#you’d think the emotion centers in the brain or whatever should like

[himblebo]

Why is it so hard to let go of unreciprocated feelings like what is the evolutionary advantage here

[noonaishere]

Music of the Heart [J.YH] - eighty-six | hack behavior

You couldn’t pay attention to what you were doing. 

Part of you was completely distracted by the idea that Yunho was busy with a fucking sting operation, of all fucking things. If y/n got him hurt or killed, you’d never forgive her. It’d mean you’d have to get a new editor, and that’d suck because she was a really good editor, but you’d cut ties with her on principle. And then you’d help Yunho sue her.

Despite your being distracted, whenever you did try to concentrate on something, you found yourself feeling… bored? Maybe it was because the distraction was so much more exciting than work but, whatever the reason, you couldn’t help it.

You had come to work that morning hoping to get a lot done: you had maybe half a list of songs for your lessons with Yujin but you wanted it to be killer; Hongjoong wanted ideas from you for Ans:wer’s comeback album, the song they were recording was going to be a one-off single for their re-debut and they’d need a full album of songs to record soon; you knew Maddox was around somewhere and probably needed something…

Yet somehow, somehow, you couldn’t get anything done. And it was because you knew your former best friend/for a while sworn enemy/now current friend was out, helping with a homemade sting operation, of all fucking things.

You deeply questioned her judgment, his judgment, and your judgment on continuing to know both of them.

You sighed and slapped your cheeks a couple times, hoping it would wake your brain up from the thing you weren’t supposed to be thinking about so you could concentrate on the things you should be thinking about. You inhaled and exhaled purposefully, attempting to center yourself. No more distractions; you were going to get something done.

“T/n?”

You looked up. Hongjoong was in the studio doorway, face contemplative. 

“Yeah?”

“Could you maybe help me with something?”

There were papers everywhere. The tables had been flipped over and everything on it on the floor, broken instruments, soundboards, and monitors, the chairs looked like they had been thrown into the wall, and there was a thin coating of dust on everything because the room had been left like this for months.

The first thing the two of you did was right the table, and Hongjoong knelt down to inspect the computer tower, the monitor beside it with a spidery crack through the screen, the second monitor with a gouge in it. He sighed.

You turned and got to picking up papers off the floor - sheet music, lyric sheets, pages of notes - you stacked them together so they could all be organized… or thrown out.

“So… is anyone going to tell me what happened with this guy?”

You heard Hongjoong shift but he stayed quiet. You went back to cleaning. He put the computer tower and monitors on the table and righted a chair and sat down.

“It’s my fault.”

You turned.

“We were friends and we used to, you know, challenge each other musically. We’d ask questions back and forth about how we thought a song should sound, what genre we should use for a concept, that kind of thing. One day I asked if he wanted to write about more.”

“‘More’?”

He sighed. “When we write popular music, we write the most relatable things a person could feel or desire, you know? Love, lust, heartbreak. You could call them ‘the big three,’ most songs revolve around them in some way or another, most people experience them so they make the most money.”

You nodded.

“Obviously I don’t have too much of a problem with this, it’s my job and all, but I had been doing HALA - making art - since I was a teenager, and I wondered if he felt the same.”

You watched him as he searched his memories for a moment.

“One day I asked him if he wanted to branch out, write about some other emotion or want or… anything, really. And he blew up at me.”

“Wow.”

“One minute we were having a nice conversation-- about Ans:wer, actually and what direction their next album should go in, and the next thing he was screaming at me. About how I didn’t understand him, or his art, or art in general, or anything… and he’d never yelled at me before, we’d never gotten into a fight, even, but suddenly he was screaming at me. Then he left and came here and trashed the whole room - Maddox came in and tried to stop him, and he hit him - and then he left before we could call security.”

Your eyes widened. “He hit Maddox?”

He nodded.

“Holy shit. What’d you do?”

“I was… flabbergasted? I feel like I’ve never used that word before. Dumbfounded? I was at a loss for words. All I could do was sit there and wonder, like, what the fuck did I do that was so wrong? Why did he get so mad? I guess we were really only work friends, but why did he get so mad instead of calmly defending his position like he normally did every other time we talked about music? Like, why… why?”

You righted a second chair and sat next to him.

“I just couldn’t understand why he became so… enraged. And so suddenly. I tried to call him afterwards. Yeah, I was stunned and maybe a little scared of him because of what happened, but I wanted to talk it through and see what was wrong, and I wanted him to apologize to Maddox… but he had already blocked me.”

He took his phone out and pressed the number for a contact that was named ‘Z---’ to keep it at the bottom of the contacts list. The phone rang for a moment before rejecting. He stared at the contact for a few moments.

“I called him at least three times a week for a month, and then less the month after… I can take a hint, I just didn’t know why he wanted me to take a hint, you know? And we had so many things we needed to work on…”

You nodded.

“It was like… all of my work life was wrapped in this person because we worked together so well, and all of a sudden it was gone in an instant, and I still don’t know what I did wrong.”

You nodded again. He clicked on the contact and the drop down fanned out the option to call or text the person. He looked at it for a couple seconds and shut the screen off and put it away. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments and he sighed.

“There was a drama I was watching…” you started, “It was a long time ago so I don’t remember the name, but there was a husband and wife in it. And one day the husband said something to the wife, and she yelled at him, which would have seemed odd, because everything seemed fine, but then the show went through all these little moments of like… she was changing as a person and he wasn’t. So when he said whatever it was to her: he, a person who had stagnated, was saying it to a person who was growing, and so she didn’t feel like he knew her anymore.”

“So--” Hongjoong avoided saying the ex-producer’s name “...so he grew?”

“Well… it’s not a one-to-one comparison. I think that, if you asked him about music and he was suddenly opposed to questioning it at all, maybe he’s the one who stagnated.”

He thought for a moment and frowned. 

“Or maybe he had changed his mind on something and didn’t tell you. It probably wasn’t sudden - one or both of you were changing the whole time - you just didn’t know from a lack of communication. You still thought he was still the kind of person you could have honest conversations about what’s working or not working in a song and…” you shrugged, “maybe he just wasn’t that person anymore.”

Hongjoong sighed deeply. His eyes downcast, his attention was taken by a broken mixing board nearby. He picked it up, turning it over to survey the damage done to it. He stared at it for a second, expression blank, but you could tell his brain was working overtime as his grip on the mixing board tightened. He inhaled a shaky breath, seeming to force himself to breathe in until it steadied.

“...Fuck…” he breathed out.

He blinked, he shook his head, you weren’t sure if you should ask what he was thinking.

“I…” he volunteered. “I’m playing the last two years we knew each other over in my head and, like, thinking about it like that… A lot of things are starting to make sense now.”

You leaned back against the table and watched him as he worked through his thoughts.

“When we first started working together, he made sure to explain that we had to do everything in service of the music… nothing else mattered as long as we were creating art and that the art was honest.”

You watched him.

“...He got an offer from another company; way more money with way less work. He didn’t take it, he said, because he was so sure that he was creating art here…”

“Did he come to regret the decision, maybe?”

He nodded slowly. “One day we had a small argument-- more like a heated debate. I didn’t pay it too much mind at the time but he had said something like… ‘Why are we doing so much for a rookie group?’ or something like that. Then I thought he mumbled something about ‘I should have taken the money,’ but he stormed out of the room before I could ask and he didn’t come back until the next day.”

“Wow…”

He nodded again, eyes on the floor.

“Sounds like a hack.”

He burst out laughing, the surprise making him spit by accident. Fortunately it didn’t hit you.

You raised an eyebrow. “Nice job.”

He leaned back in the chair, laughing, and waved your comment away. “Why do you say that?”

You shrugged. “It sounds like he didn’t take the other job at first because he felt the art was more important, and then decided he really wanted the money later. Did he need it?”

He wiped the tears from his eyes and calmed himself. “I don’t know. We weren’t very close outside of work but I was under the impression he was fairly well off. He was older than me by about ten years and had been working here about that long.”

You nodded. “Then maybe he wanted the status that the money or the name of the other company could bring.”

“...Maybe.”

“And, if you’re willing to make things just for the money,” you shrugged, “you’re a hack.

He laughed again, quieter this time, and leaned back in the chair with a pleased sigh. “Does that make me ‘not a hack’? Since I’d never do that?”

You smiled. “Of course.”

He looked down at the broken mixing board for a moment, smiling.

“Though--” you checked the door to make sure no one was walking around outside “I don’t really think HALA could become a hack.”

“I’m glad to know you have such faith in me.”

You nodded. “Like yeah, you make pop music most of the time, but you still have your own stuff that you get to explore other options with. We live in a capitalist hellscape where art is a commodity and unless we all decide to go to the salt mines instead, this is kind of our only option to make money as creative people.”

He exhaled a laugh.

“And hey, if you start exhibiting hack behavior, I’ll let you know.”

He smiled at you. “Thanks.”

You smiled back. “I’m really glad you told me about all this. It seemed like it was weighing on you.” “Yeah. I guess it was.”

You nodded. 

He put the broken board on the table and clapped his hands on his thighs, standing. “Well, let’s get this room cleaned up so you can have your own studio.”

“I’m getting this room?” 

The size of the room was fairly large, you supposed it was because the previous owner was so important. But you weren’t sure you deserved something like this so early.

“Of course.”

“But… it’s almost the size of the recording studio.”

“My and Maddox’s private studios are the same size.”

“Really? Well, I’ve never seen your rooms. When he and I visited the other producers, a lot of them had smaller studios.”

“That’s because a lot of them have less stuff and don’t need the space, or they make music for groups at other companies as well.”

“Is--”

He turned to you.

“Are they being punished?”

“What--” he laughed loudly. “No, they’re not being punished. They also have space at the companies they produce for, so it’s like half of this size room is here and half is at the other company.”

“Oh.”

“And a lot of people like smaller rooms, you know. Sound proofing is much easier to put up in a room with less wall space.”

“Then why are these rooms so big? This one, and yours and Maddox’s?”

“We’re lead producers and we only produce for Wonderland.”

You nodded. “Oh…”

He looked at you for a second. “What?”

“I don’t have that much stuff to fill it with though.”

He chuckled. “Well, once we get rid of all this broken shit,” he kicked at the broken computer tower, “get you some new mixing boards, get you a new desktop-- you can bring your bass in here, get some other instruments--”

“I do have a few at home.”

He smiled. “See? You’ll have tons of things.”

You thought about it. A room filled with instruments and mixers and computers with various production programs. What a dream.

“What?” Hongjoong asked as he picked up another mixing board that had something sticky poured into it, from his reaction. “Ugh, is this cola?”

You chuckled. 

He smelled it, grimaced, and put it on the table. “I’m surprised there’s no ants. What were you thinking about?”

“Oh… I was imagining the room looking like a working producer’s room.”

He put his hands on his hips and looked at you.

You nodded.

He nodded.

You nodded again.

He laughed. “Why are you nodding?”

“It looks pretty cool. In my head I mean. Obviously not… at the moment. But it’s cool to think that the dream is coming together.”

“You wanted to be a producer?”

“When I was younger? Nah, I wanted to be in a band and tour and shit. But honestly… When I first got into making mashups, I was just doing it for fun. Just to play around with sounds and I thought it’d make me a little bit of Youtube income on the side-- not enough to live on but enough to have a little extra money each month while I looked for a band or a job or whatever...”

He nodded.

“I never thought it’d blow up like it did… and I never thought I’d be standing here, in a room that’s going to be mine in the near future, working with you and Maddox, and heading my own projects in the future.”

He smiled. “Sometimes luck can account for a lot.”

You nodded. “I should send Mingi a fruit basket or something for telling me about the audition.”

He laughed.

“Though, maybe helping to set him up with Dei was enough.”

He laughed again. “Yeah, that seems like a pretty big favor to me. He might owe you back instead, if they get married.”

You exhaled a laugh as you picked up some more papers to add to the pile you had accumulated and tossed them on top.

“I think-- you can throw all that out.”

“Huh?”

“Those are all his. If he wants no trace of him being here, then that’s what he’ll have. Put it in the garbage.”

You shuffled it all together and picked it up, righting the garbage bin with your foot and dropping it all in. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m not going to suggest we continue the music of someone who thought money was more important than art, and who’d lash out at everyone. Fuck him.”

Your eyes widened and your eyebrows shot up.

“What?”

“I’ve… never heard you say something like that before.”

“Well… it’s just us. And, you know, if he hated me, I have no reason to forgive him… and forget yelling at me, he hit Maddox and Maddox has never done anything wrong in his life. So… yeah. Fuck him.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

He sighed and shook his head, a sort of resetting of his feelings; the sigh was for the past and the shake was to get rid of it since you both had the future to worry about. To look forward to. Though, you did file it away in the back of your brain that - were you to ever, somehow meet that guy - you would loudly give him a piece of your mind for hurting your favorite Goldfish Boy. Such things are not to be borne. Not when you can get in his face about it instead. He better hope he never runs into you.

“Anyway, this is going to be your room, once we clean it up. I’ll help you get a new computer and I’ll help you pick out new soundboards and mixing boards and shit. You can buy some more instruments…”

You nodded as you looked at the stuff you still had to clean. You supposed that IT would go over the computers just to make sure no company secrets were on them before they were disposed of.

“T/n?”

You looked at him. “Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you auditioned. I… I’m really glad you’re here. I know we started off on the wrong foot, and that was all my fault, but… I’m glad we’re going to be working together.”

His words surprised you.

He looked at you, no expectation of your answer, just an honest confession.

You nodded. “I’m glad I’m here too.”

  previous | main cast | masterlist | next

a/n: You know what that is? *opens hand like a flower* Growth.

Send an ask or leave a comment if you want to be added to the tag list! 🎵 Any comments, reblogs, or asks are appreciated! I love talking with you guys and seeing what you’re saying about the chapters, it keeps me going 🥰

@luvvvx • @iamthehotdemon • @hrts4hanniehae • @rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @anythingrelatingtojinyoung​

[hischierdevils]

Forget Him | N.H.

note: this is part of the forget series. y/n’s point of view of the breakup

summary: after ending your toxic relationship with mat barzal, nico is there to help you pick up the pieces

warnings: mentions of toxic relationship

wc: 2.1K

“Happy birthday!” Nico smiles widely as you open your hotel door to find him with a small birthday cake in his hands. One candle is lit on top of it. A few of the other players are standing behind him and echo the sentiment. 

“Thank you guys.” You force yourself to smile at them, thankful that they even remembered even though you’re sure the other admins informed them. 

“Blow out your candle.” Dawson tells you. You lean forward and pucker your lips but Nico quickly moves the cake away from you. 

“She has to make a wish first.” He scolds Dawson, making the boys laugh as Dawson gives you a sheepish grin. 

The only thing you wanted was a simple text from your boyfriend. Something to show you that he actually cared. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d actually spoken to him. He texted you the day before, telling you he was getting on the plane to Ottawa. He hadn’t even told you that he landed. 

You close your eyes and think of your truest desire. I hope I experience true love one day. You blow out the candle and the group around you cheers. When you open your eyes, Nico is smiling at you. 

The two of you have gotten pretty close over the two years you’ve been working for the Devils. He can tell something is wrong but he waits until the two of you are alone to ask. “Do you not like cake?” 

“What? Of course I do.” You sigh as you carry the cake inside your hotel room, allowing Nico to follow you. 

“Then why do you look so sad?” He can’t help but look around your room that’s so much smaller than the one he’s sharing with Tatar on this road trip. It barely looks like you spent the night here. All of your belongings are packed up neatly by the door, ready to head to the Honda Center.

Nico’s concern for you touches your heart and you find yourself sniffling. “It’s my birthday and I can cry if I want to.” 

“Don’t cry.” The reference is lost on Nico as he steps forward to wipe a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “You can talk to me, you know.” 

You give him a watery smile as you struggle to keep your emotions in check. “I know, it’s just embarrassing.”

Nico allows you to step out of his grasp and patiently waits for you to stop fidgeting with your fingers. “Is it your boyfriend?” 

You look at him in surprise. “How do- who told you?” You had only told your closest friends and swore them to secrecy. They weren’t happy with the way Mat was treating you but they respected your wishes. 

“You’ve been withdrawn lately and you don’t go out with us anymore so I just kind of assumed…” He trails off as your words settle in his brain. “Is it supposed to be a secret?” 

“I don’t want it to be.” Tears begin falling from your eyes again and Nico pulls you into his chest, holding you as you break down. He lets you cry it out, rubbing soothing circles on your back as you fist his t-shirt in your hand. 

Once you’ve gotten it out, he leads you over to the bed where you both sit down. He listens intently as you tell him everything. Without ever saying his name or giving a clue about who he is, you tell Nico all about Mat and your relationship. 

When you’re finished, Nico takes your hand in his. “He’s an idiot. You deserve someone that’s proud to be with you. You’re an amazing person, y/n. If he doesn’t realize what he has then it’s his loss.” 

“He hasn’t even wished me a happy birthday.” You whisper. Saying everything out loud to Nico helped you realize just how toxic your relationship was. It was hurting you more than anything.”I should just forget him, huh?” 

“I can’t tell you what to do.” Nico lets go of your hand and stands up. “But I hope whatever you decide brings you happiness.” 

You leave with the team for the game and on your way to the arena, you block Mat on all socials. If he can’t be bothered to text a simple happy birthday message to his girlfriend on her birthday, you can’t be bothered to say goodbye. 

A month passes and you struggle daily to not unblock Mat. Every day it gets a little easier for you but you often find yourself missing him even though you know you shouldn’t. Your friends keep you occupied and you begin going out with the Devil’s players again. 

As time passes you find yourself leaning on Nico for comfort more and more. He’s always making sure you get home after nights out, texting you all the time just to tell you about his day, and you’ve even started a routine of getting breakfast together every sunday when you’re in jersey. 

“There’s my favorite couple.” Your usual waitress greets the two of you after you return from a long roadie. 

You blush. “Oh we’re not…” 

“Hello, Angie.” Nico ignores the comment and smiles politely. “Can we have our usual spot?” 

“Of course!” She leads you over to the corner booth and rattles off the daily specials that Nico knows by heart.  You both order your drinks and Angie walks away to get them as Nico looks over the menu. 

“What are you getting?” He asks you after a moment even though you get the same thing every time you come. You were anticipating him to be angry or at least a little upset with you but he doesn’t give you any indication that he is. 

“You’re not mad?” 

He scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion. “Mad? Mad about what?” 

Was he not listening? “She assumed we were a couple.” You explain. 

“Well you’re the only woman I come here with and you’re beautiful.” Nico says, causing your cheeks to heat from the compliment. “Why wouldn’t she?” 

“I-I just…” You struggle to get your thoughts in order. Mat would’ve freaked out. But Mat also wouldn’t be seen with you in public anyway. The two of you always ordered in when you spent time together. “I’m sorry.” 

Nico sets his menu down and frowns at you. “Y/n, you’re my friend. I’m not ashamed of that. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” 

“Okay.” You bite back another apology and pick up the menu so you don’t say something stupid. 

Nico can see how bad your ex hurt your self esteem so he does everything he can to remind you how amazing you are. He used to love listening to you talk about your passions, you’d get so animated and he’d listen to you talk for hours. After the breakup, he noticed you biting your tongue a lot and trying not to take up a lot of space in a room. 

He got you out of the house as much as he could. He took you dancing, you went to museums, he even sat through the Broadway musical SIX because you kept singing the songs over and over again. Everyone around him could see that he was falling in love with you but he was trying his best to let you heal without pressuring you into a new relationship. 

When Jack tells him that he saw you out at the bar kissing another man, Nico almost loses it. He immediately assumes it’s your ex and he’s pissed all day as the Devils get ready for the last game of the season. All the progress he’s watched you make over the last few months is going to disappear and he’s not sure if he can watch you become a shell of a human again. 

“Hey, good luck, Ni.” You smile at him as he passes you in the hallway on the way to play sewer ball with the boys. 

Nico grumbles a response and doesn’t even look your way as he keeps walking. 

You furrow your brows as you chase after him. “Nico!” Not once in your friendship has he been that dismissive of you. Even when he was busy, he made time for you. He never made you feel like a burden. 

“What?” The word comes out harsher than he intended as he turns to face you. You flinch away from him and he reaches out to you, feeling guilty for the way he spoke to you. 

You take a step back. “Have a good game.” He watches as you close yourself off to him, his worst fear coming true. 

“Y/n, wait.” He calls as you start to walk away. You don’t respond to him so he catches up to you quickly, turning you around to face him again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to speak to you like that. I just…everything you’ve been through and you’re going to go right back to him?” 

Your expression changes from hurt to confusion as you cross your arms over your chest as if to protect yourself from him. “Go back to who? What are you talking about?” 

“Your ex.” Nico sighs, trying not to let it show that his heart is breaking. Your mind reels. Your ex? You hadn’t seen him in months unless you counted the NHL highlight reels. You couldn’t even remember the last time Mat crossed your mind. “Jack saw you at the bar last night.” Nico continues when you don’t say anything.

You bite your lip as you think back to last night. Your friends had begged you to meet up for a drink and while dancing a man had come up and kissed you. “That was nothing. A random guy kissed me but I pushed him away. He wasn’t…” You. 

Your eyes widen as you realize the only man you want kissing you is Nico. The man who stood beside you and patiently helped you heal your heart. Even as your friend, Nico had been more caring and loving to you than Mat had ever been. 

“It’s not really any of my business.” Nico says, unaware of the revelation you’re having. “I just don’t want to watch the light leave your eyes again.” 

You open your mouth to respond just as someone yells to Nico. “Go. Have a good game.” You smile at him as he gives you a nod before walking away. 

Your mind is at war with your heart the entire game. No one has ever treated you as well as Nico does but will that change if you admit your feelings for him? You didn’t want to think he was capable of hurting you like that but your past made you wary. Your friendship with him was so good you weren’t sure if it was worth trying to be more. What if you broke up? Then what?

You don’t see Nico until the after-party. He had a lot of media to do and the other admin you were riding with wanted to get there early. You were already a drink in when he walked in flanked by a few teammates. 

You watched as his eyes roamed over the crowd searching for you. When he noticed you on the edge of the dance floor his lips turned into a warm smile before walking toward you. When he reached you he put an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him so you could hear him over the music. “What are you doing this summer?”

“I don’t know yet.” You admitted. You weren’t sure if you wanted to stay in the area or head to your home town for a month or two. Neither option really seemed appealing. “Why?”

“Come to Switzerland with me.” His lips brush your ear as he talks and then he pulls away to look into your eyes as you consider his invitation. 

“Okay.” You breathe.

“Okay?” He grins as a slow smile spreads across your face. 

You nod to reaffirm your decision. “I’d love to.” 

He’s kissing you before either one of you has time to think about it and all of your fears and insecurities melt away as he holds you in his arms. You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back eagerly letting him erase every thought in your head except for him.

[akaraboonline]

The different types of attraction

It takes a lot of complexity to understand how we fall in love and the psychology of attraction. Finding the one person you want to spend the rest of your life with requires a lot of work. Here are the various types of attraction, what they can do for love, and how they make you feel, in case you're wondering what it takes to find true love. 1. Aesthetic attraction Everybody has a celebrity crush on someone they finds to be absolutely stunning. Okay, so maybe you'd have sex with them if you had the chance, but more likely than not, you're just drawn to the way they look. You find their beauty appealing. This isn't always related to romantic or sexual attraction. Maybe you've been admiring the coffee server at your neighborhood café for a few months and believe him to be among the most attractive people you've ever seen. You find yourself fixated on him. That is aesthetic appeal, as you can see.

The different types of attraction 2. Platonic attraction This is frequently mistaken for the "friend zone." It's in quotation marks because we don't genuinely believe it exists. Most of the time, the person is either unwilling to commit or honestly doesn't view you that way.   Anyhow, the need to be in a non-sexual connection with someone is known as platonic attraction. purely built on friendship and love. It might be challenging to experience this kind of attraction because you might like someone while they simply regard you as a friend. 3. Emotional attraction This is presumably the main kind of fascination there is. Without it, there won't be much for you to like about an individual. As we're moving into the most well-known and serious kinds of fascination, we'll zero in on these more and the overall brain research of fascination. Anyway, what does profound fascination feel like? It's profound, it's comprehensive. The fascination simply feels like 'more'. You couldn't care less about something besides them being OK. You need to be their greatest team promoter throughout everyday life and assist with supporting them to be all that they can be. It's the 'pulling at the heartstrings' sort of fascination, and with regards to profound love, it's likely the main one. Signs of emotional attraction Here are the indications of close to home fascination. a. You like the manner in which they think This is the center of close to home fascination. Assuming you like the manner in which their psyche works and the manner in which they contemplate life and circumstances, you're sincerely associated with them. You long for their consideration, and you need to take in all that they need to say. b. You care about their qualities as well At the point when you have comparable qualities, that is quickly a close to home association. You connect with them on a level that is more profound than exactly what they resemble. Having those values coordinate bonds you closer genuinely than whatever else can. c. You feel associated while talking about your inclinations Assuming the more you get to know somebody, the more you like them, it's a close to home fascination. At the point when you learn new things about them, and your sentiments simply continue to develop, you're sincerely into them. d. You care about their satisfaction The brain science of fascination expresses that when you need another person to be content, you're drawn to them inwardly. You maintain that they should feel significantly better and be in a good mentality generally. Assuming you maintain that their feelings should be high and are vexed when they're miserable, it's certainly this kind of fascination. 4. Physical attraction We as a whole understand what this kind of fascination is. You could believe it's not significant by any means, however in numerous ways, it is. It won't give you enduring affection, however frequently the underlying thing pulls you toward somebody. Generally speaking, without actual fascination, you won't ever get to know an individual and experience passionate feelings for their character. Read the full article

[minsyal]

The Fugitive (Finding Home), Pt. 1

Karl Heisenberg x Reader

Warnings: strong language, Resident Evil-esque violence and descriptions of gore, and dark/sexual themes

Summary: A once-in-a-lifetime trip turned dark. You're quickly exposed to the sinister and mysterious world of a cursed village under the control of dark leaders. How long will you last and will you ever return home in one piece?

Backpacking through Eastern Europe was not a top priority on your “to do” list. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Being one to preplan everything, you were completely caught off guard when your roommate sprung the idea of the trip out of the blue. You roommate, Jezebel Haine, was your first and only roommate from college onward. All legs, she was one of the stars of the track team but was most certainly not one of the brightest shining ones. She was considerably dim-witted, fanatical, and had a booming over-the-top personality that scared every potential boyfriend who had the disservice of meeting her. There were times, though, that she was rather endearing. Her childlike sense of self and emotional drivers consistently put her at a crossroads between what everyone else was doing and what she should be doing; she was, and always will be, a follower.

After four years of becoming “the bestest of friends,” you had a hard time imagining such a hard shift either into another roommate or living alone. Plus, her parents funded most everything she did and, in turn, funded the apartment the two of you shared.

“It’s an amazing opportunity!” She insisted, waving her hands in a simple manner as she rose from the condensed cushion of the leather-clad couch. “Think about it.” Gathering your hands in hers like a 20’s actress who had just met the man of her dreams, she pulled the bundle to her chest. “We frolic through the European countryside, it’s golden hour. My skin looks absolutely gorgeous… yours too, of course. The sun is just about to set, but alas!” She let out a dramatic gasp, removing one of her hands to cover her mouth. “It’s growing dark out!”

“That’s what happens when the sun sets.” You noted, causing her to drop the act for a moment only to immediately go back into character.

“We hear the crunching of leaves and twigs all around us as if something…” she drew close and lowered her voice to a whisper, “sinister is coming. Out of no where we’re ambushed! By what, I’m not sure. Then,” her eyes became glassy as she lay a delicate hand to her forehead, “two absolute studs… and I’m talking big bulging muscles, gorgeous trendy hair, captivating eyes… really everything a simple girl could ask for… seemingly drop from the sky! We’re saved!” She throws your hands into the air as if they’d fall like confetti. Drawing both her arms in, she sways back and forth in a waltz of one. “We’d be married by the next day! Hell, maybe we’d even end up as princesses.”

Oh, how utterly wrong she was.

“I told you this was a stupid idea.” You groaned, haughtily holding your chin up while feeling your spirits low. A few miles back, on an asphalt road that quickly turned to dirt, sat the dingy red rental truck with a blown out engine and a deflating tire. With no cell service and the last town being over 100 miles back, your only choice was to walk.

“Don’t blame me!” Jezebel stopped walking, feet falling flat to the ground as she stomped her foot in a childish manner. “I,” her lip quivered as all the anger held in her body dissipated, “I just wanted to have a fun time with you.” Big tears flowed from her eyes quickly after finishing her proclamation, leaving smearing black lines down her face from the eyeliner she insisted was necessary in the Romanian countryside. God, if her parents weren’t funding this trip, you’d throw a fit for your money back.

“Jess, just,” reaching backward, you fished a rag from your backpack, “don’t cry. That’s not going to make this better.” Sniffling, she accepted the rag and wiped her eyes, further smearing black all over her face. You couldn’t help but feel a shred of sympathy for her. “Let’s just keep going. No use in wasting daylight. I really don’t want to get caught out here in the dark.”

“Where are we supposed to go, then?”

“I’m sure the next town will have some sort of inn or hotel. At the very least, they’ll have directions to the nearest city.”

After another five miles of walking, the sun was beginning to set and no gorgeous studs were waiting to save you. The blazing yellow ball inched slowly beyond the horizon. Its warming rays that had kept the snow from freezing the two of you in the day crept down below the snow peaked mountains that were nestled in the distance. Shadows began dancing between the trees, sending the forest into a theater of silent performers. The dirt road that was once large enough for two cars was now only a walking path so slim that Jezebel had to follow on your heels. Every now and again you were reeled back by the piece of rope that she had attached to your backpack that was firmly gripped in her hand. She claimed it made her feel safer.

“You think those two hunks are going to come save us now?” You joked, attempting to make light of this dark situation.

“I wish.” She huffed, frustration evading her voice as exhaustion took center stage.

Flickering light caught your eye. Hues of yellow and red mingled together in the distance, the outlines of rooftops and smoke-filled chimneys littered the ground below. “I think that’s a village.”

Another mile of downhill travel was all it took to reach the place where the once distant flickering of torches and lanterns grew into the quiet streets of a cluttered settlement. There was no clear indication of movement once you stepped foot in the village; the only evidence of any life came in the form of fresh boot prints, livestock, and the ever-blazing lanterns. Jezebel was all to happy to release your makeshift leash from her fingers, trotting mindlessly by to examine the street corners and homes. Your eyes continued wandering up the rooftops, finally landing upon the eerie looming castle situated on the mountainside above.

From around the bend, you heard Jezebel screech.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You threw caution to the wind, quickly rounding the corner to scold her like a parent would to a misbehaving child. “You don’t know if these people are violent or not. We can’t just go parading ourselves into the town center.”

“I think they’re violent.” She mustered the shaky words. Her hands covered her eyes and the majority of her face as she backed away from whatever had caused her distress.

“What?” The unpleasant squelch of snow beneath your feet caused your attention to draw downward. Dark snow surrounded your boot, an unnatural red hue stained the pure white. Gaze moving upward, your chest restricted feeling as if it had crushed inward on itself. The putrid smell finally fell upon your nostrils as you backed away from the scene. Severed animal heads hung lazily above you, their tongues flopping from their opened mouths.

“I want to go home.” Jezebel sobbed, rasping her cries into her cupped hand. Shaking her head as if to knock this moment from her brain, her short-lived façade of curiosity gave way to her immediate feeling of impending dread.

“That’s what I’m trying to do right now, Jess. Just, calm down.”

A low grumble had you standing further on edge, if that was possible at this point. The sound was clear as day and was anything but human. You weren’t even sure a human could get to an octave so low without the help of technology. Eyes darting upward once more, a chill ran from your shoulders to your toes.

Hauntingly yellowed eyes lingered upon the two of you. The beast-like figure was silhouetted by the moonlight, outlined like a ghost. It looked to be a man, but also anything but a man in the same sense. Its mouth was parted, baring old rotted teeth that looked to have dried blood caked between its gums. Its hands were bloodied as well, small cuts were painted across its forearms only hidden by the rags that clung to its chest.

Before you could process the situation, Jezebel let out another yelp. In an instant, the beast lunged down from its perch, landing with a ground shaking thud nearly five feet before you. “No!” Jezebel’s open palm collided with the space between your shoulder blades as she pushed you toward the monster. The last thing you saw was her backpack falling to the ground as she began running toward one of the homes. You landed face-first in the snow, groaning as all the air in your lungs were forced out. The beast snarled, once again showing its teeth as it hunched down to your level. This was, most certainly, not the way you envisioned dying. Things like this weren’t supposed to exist; this is myth, this isn’t real. It all felt like bad dream gone worse that you couldn’t wake from.

“Pesky creatures, aren’t they?” A new voice called out as the horrendous sound of metal crushing bone and muscle slithered through your ears. The disgusting feeling of gore instantly trickled down your hands. “Please,” the voice continued, “feel free to thank me anytime.”

A moment later, the stranger let out a scoff with the squishy suction of whatever he had used to quiet the monster. The tap of a boot on your elbow finally prompted you to uncover your eyes. “Or don’t.”

“I,” you started, opening and closing your mouth multiple times unable to find the right words, “thank you.”

“Oh.” He tiled the stiff rim of his frayed hat back, exposing a pair of circular sunglasses perched upon his nose. “Foreigners, eh?”

“Yeah, um.” You gathered yourself, finally pushing up to stand on your feet. “We got lost.”

“And ended up here, no doubt.” A stifled chuckle left his lips as he tilted his hat back in place and swung whatever he used to kill the beast over his shoulder. “If I were you, I’d get the hell out of here.”

Without another word, the stranger sauntered off with a backward wave of his hand. “Oh, and have someone clean this mess up.”

“Y/n!” Jezebel’s shrill voice called as she returned with a rather confused villager. He held a shotgun with both of his hands, Jezebel shone a flashlight in your eyes.

“Are you okay?” The villager moved forward with extreme caution after peering around you dumbfoundedly seeing the crumpled body.

“I’m fine, no thanks to her.” You spat, anger swelling in your throat causing a particular acidity to your words.

“All of you! Inside this instant.” A matronly holler came from behind Jezebel and the villager. “You know Miranda’s protection only runs so far as we grow closer to this time.”

Who is Miranda and, more importantly, who was the man who saved you?

The home you were ushered into was on the outskirts of town. It was one of the larger estates given the fact that some people seemed to live in one-room shacks. Upon entering, you were greeted with the warm glow of yellow light trickling in from what looked to be a formal living room. The sweet aromas of honeyed tea wafted through the air, drawing further in as the woman led the three of you deeper into the home. What was worse? You pondered. Being killed by that beast or potentially being murdered by the inhabitants of this home? You couldn’t decide. Thus far, the two gave no indication of malice.

“Please, sit.” The woman pulled out two of the chairs at her table, the wood scratching against the floor. “I’ll fetch the tea.”

Jezebel was so brainless. She smiled at you as if she hadn’t just offered you up as a midnight snack. Surely there was no hamster running on that squeaky track that powered her.

“What was that thing?” You turned to the man who was now seated to your right. “The monster.”

The man ignored your question, instead grabbing a piece of rounded bread from the plate at the center of table. Slathering butter on it, he looked to you. “How’d you kill it?”

“I didn’t.” You frowned, recalling the mysterious man who saved your life without even dropping his name. The villager raised his brows and kicked his foot up on the table. He was waiting for more information. “Some man came out of nowhere. He had some hammer-like weapon.”

As soon as he processed the words, his foot fell from the table and he leaned forward, uncomfortably close. You could smell the distinguishable bite of alcohol percolate from his lips. “Did he wear glasses? A hat?”

“He did.” The words slowly drifted from your mouth. “Hair to about here.” You motioned to the halfway point of your neck.

“Adelina,” the man called, presumably to the woman who guided you inside. He got up quickly, rushing to the other room leaving you and Jezebel alone.

“What the hell is going on here?” You whispered in a harsh tone, leaning forward to get closer to her. “Is this not weird at all to you?”

“I think they’re nice people.” Jezebel responded at full volume without a second of thought.

“That’s coming from someone who tried to feed their supposed best friend to a monster.”

“I was buying us time to get help.”

“Help? I almost died!”

“But you didn’t.”

“When we get back to the U.S. I never want to speak to you again.” You seethed. How could she be this bad? You knew there were a few… a considerable amount of screws missing from Jezebel, but how in God’s green earth does she justify her actions at this point? The thought of it accompanied by her dazed and empty stare only fueled the fire of anger more.

“Dear,” the woman, who you now knew was Adelina, reentered the room accompanied by the man with a tray of cups and a kettle in her hands. She set a delicate china glass in front of you, softly filling it with a reddish colored liquid that she assured you was Celestial Seasonings, a tea imported from Africa. “I hear that you’ve met Lord Heisenberg.” Placing a hand over her heart, she gave a warm smile that only sent another wave of dread through your body. There was something so alluring about this woman, yet so sinister.

“Lord, who?”

Adelina stiffened, craning her neck to the side as she plastered a forced smile upon her lips once more. You had upset her, that much was obvious. “One of the four Lords that rule here alongside our dear Mother Miranda.” She explained, pushing the cup of tea closer to your body. Jezebel had already finished her first glass. Warily, you lifted the cup in your hand and allowed the warm water to heat your frozen body. An elongated finger pointed to the framed painting that hung to the wall. “Mother Miranda protects us here.”

Mother Miranda. You could only focus on the image of the woman silhouetted by six black wings and a halo outlining her head. Her eyes were indistinguishable behind the raven-like mask that clung to her face. Adorned in a black garb, she looked to be a holy figure in this town. But like Adelina, something just wasn’t right with Miranda.

The unsettling reverb of crickets and cicadas chirping grew louder and louder with each passing hour. You counted the seconds between waves of mass chorus; so far, it was roughly thirty seconds between each bleating scream of their nightly tune. You couldn’t sleep. Despite the somewhat comforting, but entirely unsettling welcome given by Adelina and Marion, you couldn’t help but feel like a caged animal in the tiny cupboard room they had given you. A curious thought tickled the back of your mind, willing you to remain as alert as possible after an exhausting day of hiking; where had they put Jezebel? Not that you particularly cared at this point. After the attack she had done a 180, dropping all suspicion of malice in this village. She simply flushed the pictures of hanging heads and wild beasts from her memory. You sometimes envied her lackadaisical memory accompanied by a fanatical view of the world. Living blissfully ignorant, especially in a situation like this, seemed to serve her best.

After a small dinner of fish that smelled of ammonia, of which you politely picked at, Adelina insisted the two of you stay the night. “The beasts will return!” She exclaimed, holding a firm hand over the intricately carved wood of the doorframe. “Early tomorrow we can arrange for a car to pick you up from the next town over.” Hushed murmurs climbing up from the cracked floors pulled you from your thought. The voices spoke in an incomprehensible argument.

“I’d quite like to keep...” the words faded in and out.

“No, no, no. Don’t be ridiculous...”

“What if....”

The floor spoke a soft squeak from beneath your feet as you shifted to get closer to the voices. Their conversation stopped, and you waited with bated breath for it to continue.

“We have to offer someone up tomorrow.” It was Adelina.

“I know, I know.” Marion sounded frustrated. “But you know Mother Miranda prefers only the purest. How are we supposed to know if either of them are-”?

The words faded once more as the two moved from room to room. Walking on the sides of your feet, you followed. Peeking around the corner, your eyes landed on Adelina and Marion illuminated by a flickering fire. They stood close to one another, keeping their tones low.

“Clearly, we offer the frumpy one. Take a look at her. There’s no doubt in my mind that she’s unexperienced.” Adelina snickered, taking a seat on the worn couch with her back to you. “She wouldn’t fit in here anyway.”

“The dumb one would get along nicely with our son.”

“I agree.”

A knock at the front door sent a shiver of adrenaline down your spine. Quickly scrambling to hide, you took in a deep breath as Marion passed by with his shotgun in hand. From the parted door, you could see the sun barely peeking over the horizon. Had it really been that long already?

“Are you sure she’s pure?” The new man stood in the doorway rushed past Marion, looking in the direction of the room they had put you in.

“I suppose we could check.” Adelina called, rising to join the others. “The both of them had that tea. They shouldn’t wake until the ceremony later today.”

“Is she in there?”

“Yes, the other one is upstairs.”

“Let’s check this one first.”

With heavy footsteps falling upon the rotting floorboards of the somewhat dilapidated home, you slunk further into the shadows of the room behind you. The glint of something metal caught your attention; a small handgun sat perfectly on a dresser as if set there intentionally for you to find. Holding your breath, you crept forward to it. You’d never shot a gun in your life, but you knew the basics... both hands, check for ammo, rack the slide, pull the trigger. At least, that’s what the movies told you.

“Out of bed so soon, are we?” The soft voice turned malevolent as Adelina appeared in the doorway of the room. “I wouldn’t use that if I were you.” She motioned to the gun that was aimed rather unskillfully for her chest.

“What the fuck is going on in this village?” You spoke with purpose now, tone wavering slightly as Marion stepped behind his wife.

“You don’t understand things around here, girl.” Adelina spat, moving aside as Marion began charging into the room. The loud blast of the gun echoed from the walls of the home followed by a harsh curse and the sound of a body crumpling to the floor. You had shot Marion in the leg; he’d live.

“No,” you started, re-racking the slide as Adelina’s other friend approached wielding a similar gun to your own. Adrenaline washed over your nervous system, your hands shook violently, but you attempted to remain composed. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. This isn’t normal! Tell me what’s going on now or,” your eyes trailed down to Marion who was attempting to control the flow of blood from his wound.

“You wouldn’t.” She laughed bitterly.

“Like hell, I wouldn’t.” You exclaimed, training the gun onto her. “Now tell me, what’s happening here.”

“You’ll understand soon enough.” Adelina’s friend’s words were the last thing you heard before your ears rang and the sting of a bullet burnt white hot in your shoulder. You weren’t sure if your gun ever went off again.

Despite being tied, bathed, dressed, and currently sitting on a freezing alter-of-sorts, you still hadn’t the slightest clue as to what was going on. A crowd of villagers surrounded from the south, all carrying on with a rumble of conversation. Adelina shot daggers at you, Marion as well, from a small, inclined hill at the edge of the crowd. The clothes you wore were your own, she had fished through your backpack claiming that it was of no use to waste a nice dress on “someone like her.” Jezebel was likely still fast asleep at their house.

A woman with the likeness of the framed photo you had seen appeared out of nowhere. So, this was the famous Mother Miranda that everyone regarded so deeply. She stood before you as the crowd’s voices hushed and their eyes became hazed with looks of admiration and devoted appreciation. Surely, she was a human, deities and gods didn’t exist in a physical form, you assured yourself.

Without a word, Miranda moved gracefully as if flowing across the ground to stand before Adelina. Taking her face between her hands, she whispered what you assumed to be praise as Adelina’s lips moved rapidly thanking Miranda. She then moved to Marion and grazed her hand against the wound on his thigh, speaking of how his steadfast devotion would quickly heal any injuries of cruelty spread by evil. When her attention finally fell back to you, she frowned. Stalking around you in circles, Miranda’s imposing figure made you want to shrivel to nothingness.

“Thank you.” She turned to the villagers as if to dismiss them. “When the time comes, I will return for another.”

The black wings you had seen in the photo sprouted from her back, shielding your sight of the villagers as they retreated to their homes. Hopeful cries and shouted blessings to Miranda echoed from the crowd as the village gate slammed. The only evidence of them once populating this empty square were flowers and offerings of fruit and grain left for the supposed goddess.

The world swiftly darkened once more.

Part 2 - Paths Meet

I promise there's more Heisenberg in the next part..

Feedback is always appreciated

[1-800-gaygentsofshield]

you + me = ? | n.r.

summary: after the war you and Natasha settle down, deciding to start a family in your cozy little home. The problem is though, how many times can hope be ignited before it fully burns out?

warnings: (trying to get pregnant) reader, canon/sterile Nat, swearing, Nat and you cry, post-endgame, sprinkle of angst with a very fluffy ending

word count: 4,016

im having baby fever rn im so sorry

-flashback, pre-endgame-

"I wanna have a family." Your voice is barely above a whisper as you both look up at the night sky, laying in the garden atop the Avengers compound. "What?" Nat asks softly, breaking out of her trance as she looks at you. You're laying on her chest and her arm is wrapped your back, Nat's other arm folded up behind her head.

"I wanna have a family, with you." You repeat yourself, making eye contact with your girlfriend as her brows furrow. "Y/n.." Nat's voice is hesitant and panic floods your chest, your eyes widening as you move to sit up. "Oh my god I'm so sorry, that was so quick-" You apologize quickly as you avoid Natasha's gaze, the redhead sitting up with you.

You've dated Natasha for two years but everything has been slow, knowing how the assassin will close herself off if you try and move too fast (emotion wise).

"Hey Y/n no." Nat says softly as she looks at your side profile, a soft frown forming on her face as she sees you. "That's not the reason why." She says as she gently turns your head to face her, fingertips delicately grabbing your chin. "I do want to have a family with you, moya lyubov'..it's just that I can't." Nat whispers and you finally lock eyes with her, seeing the pain and sadness on her face. "What do you mean?' You ask carefully and she sighs, waiting a beat before deciding to tell you. "In the Red Room me and all of my other group mates were sterilized..it was like a sick graduation ceremony that prevented us from having a family of our own." She tells you and hurt immediately grips at your heart, seeing Nat avert her gaze for a moment.

"Why?" You question and she purses her lips together, one of your hands rubbing her knee gently. "So we would never have any distraction from our mission..so that our only purpose in life was to kill and be used as a weapon." Disgust drips from Nat's voice at the last part, your soft hands on her wrist bringing her back to reality. "Im so sorry Nat, I shouldn't have anything I didn't know-" You start to apologize again but Nat stops you with a soft shake of her head, a bittersweet smile on her face. "Don't apologize, Y/n. I'm the one who should be sorry for not being able to give you the family that you deserve." She says and now it's your turn to shake your head, grabbing Nat's hands and caressing them gently. "Its alright baby." You smile gently before an idea pops into your head, your eyes lighting up and Nat gives you a look of curiosity.

"Besides.." You start, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "If you really..truly..wanted a family with me, there could still be other options. Like adopting or getting a surrogate..or I could get pregnant instead." You suggest and Natasha's eyes light up like the stars in the night sky, a small laugh escaping your lips as you see the excitement on her face.

"Really?! You'd do that?" She asks and you nod your head, giving your girlfriend a soft kiss before laughing. "Mmhm, but you'd have to put a ring on it first, Miss Romanoff." You giggle and Nat wraps her arms around you again, both of you laying back down on the blanket. "Im planning to, future Mrs.Romanoff."

-present day, post-endgame-

You nervously pace around the bathroom as you wait for the three minutes to be up, Natasha sitting on the edge of the bathtub and observing you walk back and forth. The pregnancy test is laying by the sink and you can’t help but glance at it every few seconds, not having felt this nervous since battling Thanos and his army. You’ve faced gods, powerful Titans, super soldiers, but you’re sure this the most nerve wracking thing you’ve ever had to do. Once the timer on Natasha’s phone goes off, you practically jump towards the sink, Natasha leaning forward a bit more on the bathtub. Picking up the white and pink pregnancy test, you nervously turn it over in your hands, eyes scanning the small window for the results.

Natasha doesn’t even have to ask for the results when she sees your shoulders slump and your face drop, quickly getting up from the bathtub to wrap you up in her arms. Hugging you from behind, she can see the negative test in your hands, gently kissing your cheek when you don’t say anything. “It’s okay baby, we can try again.” She says softly and you shake your head, slowly placing the test down and closing your eyes.

“Nat, what if somethings wrong with me?” You whisper and her arms hug you closer, tears pooling under your eyelids in frustration. “Nothing is wrong with you malysh.” Natasha reassures you and you turn in her arms, releasing a shaky breath as you press your face into her neck. “Three times Nat..three fucking times..” You sigh and she only holds you closer, knowing how much hope the both of you had for this one. “I know, I know.” Nat hums softly as she rocks the two of you back and forth gently, feeling the hope starting to dwindle from you. “What if we just weren’t meant to have a biological children? What if we weren’t meant to have lives after the war?” You question out loud and Natasha pulls back, gently tilting your chin up so you can look her in the eyes. “Hey no, don’t say that. We were meant to have a family Y/n, biological or not.” Nat takes a pause to brush some hair out of your face.

“Let’s try one more time, okay? And if that doesn’t work then we can look into other options.” She continues and you think for a moment, not knowing if you could go through the hope and pain again. “Okay.” You whisper softly and Nat nods her head. “Okay.” She echos you before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead, pulling you back in for a hug.

————

Nat’s leg is bouncing up and down as she watches the timer tick down, only ten more seconds before you can check. This is the last try, all or nothing. You’re too anxious to pace this time, instead opting to sit next to Natasha and leaning into her as you watch her leg bounce. “You know..whatever happens, I love you.” Nat says softly when she sees you blankly stare at her knee, lost in thought about what’s going to happen. “I love you too.” You reply equally as soft as you look up at your wife, grabbing her hand and intertwining them slowly.

Leaning into each other, you both share a soft kiss, love shining through the small interaction. You both only pull away when the timer dings, Natasha rubbing your back as you sigh and get up. It feels like time slows down as you walk towards the sink, heart pounding in your chest as you reach out to grab the test. The bathroom is silent as you pick it up and flip it over, looking at the little window for the results. You’re silent as you look at the results, body frozen in place as you stare at the test. Natasha’s brows furrow and she gets up, sighing as she rubs her temples.

“Baby I’m so sorry-” “It’s positive.” You interrupt Nat midway through her sentence, your voice in disbelief as you see those two pink lines. “What?” Natasha asks, unsure if she heard you right. “It’s positive.” You repeat as you turn to face her, pregnancy test in hand as you smile from ear to ear. “You’re pregnant?” Natasha asks, almost in disbelief as she stares at you. “I’m pregnant.” You nod your head and Natasha immediately sweeps you up in her arms, hugging you right and picking you up from the ground. “Holy shit! We’re gonna have a baby!” Nat laughs as she spins you around, joyful giggles falling from your lips as you cling onto your wife.

“Oh my god we’re gonna have a baby.” Nat breathes out as she comes to a stop, quickly putting you down once the realization hits her brain. “Shit, you’re pregnant we need to be careful.” She says and you only laugh, pulling her down a bit to kiss her. “You don’t need to be that a careful dummy, but yes..I’m pregnant.”

————

“Tony gave us an iron man onesie.” You laugh as you hold up the tiny piece of clothing, Natasha grinning as she watches you. Even though the announcement was made a week ago, the gifts have been steadily pouring in, Tony insisting that he pays for the majority of the things that are needed for the new arrival.

He paid for the crib, the high chair, the car seat, most of the nursery, and all the bottles and toys a newborn could ask for. Pepper had a huge part in it too, having experience since bringing Morgan into the world. “That man is self centered.” Natasha laughs as she walks over to where you’re sitting, her heart full of love as she kneels down next to you.

“Mmhm.” You hum in agreement as you fold the article of clothing away, Natasha handing you the next gift. You’re about sixteen weeks along and you’re already showing, a small baby bump forming from your midsection. You both decided to wait until the second trimester to tell the rest of the team, wanting to enjoy the first few months in peace.

Natasha watches you wordlessly as you open a gift from Steve, a smile tugging on her lips as she sees the captain america pacifier. “I love you so much.” She blurts out randomly and your head turns to face her, a smile on your face as you gently kiss her.

“You’ve gone soft Romanoff.” You tease and she only laughs, gently kissing you again. “I blame you, you’ve made me domestic.” She grins and you roll your eyes, placing the gift to the side.

————

As the pregnancy goes along, you start to notice Natasha’s lack of touch, the redhead only going as far as running her hands through your hair or holding your shoulders. You have no idea what has gotten into her and you're determined to investigate, missing the way Natasha used to spoon and cuddle you all day.

Your questions were finally answered when one day you and Natasha were watching TV in bed, the redhead's arm slung around your shoulder as you lean into her. When the commercial break finally came on, you turned your head to look at your wife, curiosity written all over your face. "Why don't you cuddle me anymore, Nat?" You ask softly and she looks at you with confusion, lowering down the volume on the TV. "What do you mean? I cuddle you all the time baby." She says and you shake your head, reaching up and gently toying with her hair.

"Ever since I've gotten pregnant you've treated me like I could break at any moment, what are you so afraid of?" You question and Natasha sighs, glancing at her lap for a moment before answering. "With these hands I've done some awful things Y/n..things too horrific to say out loud. I feel like if I touch you or the baby I'll just ruin it, or hurt you..like everything else in my life." Nat confesses softly and your heart melts at how scared your wife is, knowing how much she's struggled with her past and with the red in her ledger. "Natasha Romanoff." You whisper, gently grabbing her hands to put them in between the two of you. "You are the kindest," You start, gently kissing her knuckle. "Most caring." another kiss, "Most selfless" another kiss, "Person I've ever met" another kiss. "And I know, with my whole heart and soul, you would never do anything to hurt me or the baby." You look up at her and gently rub your knuckles over the back of her hands. "So please stop acting like you will. These are the hands that I love, the hands that will raise our child, they're strong and secure, so stop thinking otherwise." You finish as you wordlessly move both your hands towards your belly, gently placing Natasha's hands over the bump.

The redhead is stunned as your hands rest over hers, the baby suddenly kicking. A wide smile spreads across your face as you both look down at your belly, the baby never having kicked before. "That was the first time they've ever kicked." You inform Natasha and you could see her still processing that fact. "That's our baby?" She asks softly and you laugh, nodding your head. "Mmhm, that's our baby. They recognized their mama." You say fondly as the baby kicks again, Natasha's heart bursting with warmth as she looks at you.

Slowly, Natasha moves to lay down on the bed, resting her head right beside your bump and holding it gently. "Hi malen'kiy golub'." She whispers softly, your hand coming down to gently play with her hair. You smile as you watch Natasha gently cuddle with your bump, knowing without a doubt that she's going to be a great mother.

-----

Placing the stuffed animals down on the table, you turn to look at Natasha, a giggle coming from your lips as you walk over to her. "What?" Nat grins as she turns to face you, putting the paintbrush down to the side.

"You're a mess." You laugh as you rub some pastel green paint from her cheek, both of you deciding that the nursery would be painted a light grey with a pastel green accent wall. "I'm still hot though." She teases and you only roll your eyes, cupping her face as you gently kiss her.

"Yeah yeah you're always hot." You laugh and Natasha looks around the room, grinning at the stack of Avenger's themed stuffed animals your team gave you. "They're all trying to be known as the cool uncle aren't they?" She asks softly and you nod your head, knowing that whatever Avenger your child takes after will forever have that bragging right.

"Let them have their fun, they're happy for us." You smile and Nat only sighs, shaking her head with a small smile on her face.

-----

You feel like Natasha was more anxious than you when you went into labour, your water breaking in the middle of the night. There wasn't any dramatic screaming or freaking out, you just calmly pushed the sheet back and let out a soft "huh" as you saw the damp bedsheets.

"Oh, okay we're doing this." You say before turning on the light, acting like it was any other day as you gently shake Natasha awake. "Nat, baby wake up." You whisper softly as Natasha stirs, squinting at the light once her eyes opened. "Y/n? What's wrong?" Nat mumbles sleepily as she rubs the sleep from her eyes, seeing you in a sitting up position.

"My water broke." You say and it takes a second for the words to process in Natasha's brain, the redhead suddenly sitting up and fully awake. "What? Okay okay it's happening. It's happening." Nat says as she pushes the sheets off herself, her mind immediately going to all the books she's read over the past nine months. You've already packed your hospital bags a few weeks in advance so you aren't too stressed about it, only needing to change and grab a few extra things. Natasha, on the other hand, is working on full overdrive, pulling on sweatpants and making sure everything is in order.

"Natasha, baby." You say as you gently grab her arm, needing your wife to slow down if you're going to survive the next few days. "You need to calm down my love." You say softly as you hold onto her shoulders, making the redhead look at you and take a few deep breaths. "Okay..okay. I'm sorry. I'm just nervous." Natasha admits and you nod your head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's okay to be nervous Nat, you just need so slow down. We haven't even gotten to the hospital yet." You laugh softly and she nods her head, waiting a few more moments before stepping back slowly. "Okay, let's have a baby."

---

Your head is resting back against Natasha's shoulder as she acts like a backrest to you, allowing you to grip onto her hand when your contractions hit. Nat has been nothing but supportive the entire time, humming reassuring words into your ear as the pain washes over your body.

"Fuck." You whimper once another round of contractions end, Natasha's hand coming up to gently push back the sweaty hairs sticking to your forehead. "You're doing amazing baby, I'm so proud of you." She hums and you sigh, closing your eyes as you feel your wife rub your back. It's quiet as you feel Natasha's hands move down to your bump, rubbing your stomach softly as she sighs.

"Come on malen'kiy golub, your mommies are so excited to meet you." Nat coos and you smile into her neck, warmth flooding your chest as you listen to her. "And I know all of your aunties and uncles are excited to meet you too. We're so excited to hug you, and kiss you, and watch you grow." She hums as she rubs small circles on your belly.

"So please come out before your mommy kills me." Both of you laugh and you snuggle more into Natasha's embrace. "You're going to be an amazing mom." You whisper and Nat grins, looking at you with a quirked eyebrow. "Yeah?" She asks and you nod your head. "Yeah..I couldn't have asked for a more amazing wife, best friend, and now..a mother to our daughter." You hum and Nat blushes, kissing you gently.

----

Your eyebrows furrow as you grip onto Natasha’s hand, pain coursing through your body as you deliver the baby. “You’re doing amazing y/n, almost there.” Nat says as you practically crush her hand, hiding the pain in her face as she watches you. "Congratulations, it's a healthy baby girl." The doctor announces as the baby's cries fill the room, your chest heaving as you lay back. Nat cuts the umbilical cord ("I've seen worst in Budapest") and they place the baby on your chest, draping a blanket over the two of you to keep you warm.

"Hi baby." You coo as you hold your child close to your chest, Natasha standing next to you with unshed tears in her eyes. You look up at her and sniffle (you're crying so hard at this point) as you see the look of awe on her face, smiling as you gently reach out to grab her hand. Softly placing her hand atop of the baby's blanketed back, she slowly moves her thumb, the child's cries quieting at both of her mother's touch. Nat is speechless as she watches the tiny newborn cling onto your chest, loving the warmth radiating off of your body.

"She's a boob man, just like her mama." Nat whispers and you laugh, that being the first thing that comes to her mind. Your child's hand slowly comes up and wraps her fingers around Natasha's thumb, that being the breaking point for the tears as they finally fall down her cheek.

----

"Are you gonna hold her or are you just going to stare at me?" You ask as Natasha watches you and Mila sit on the bed, the two of you now alone with your child. Natasha looks hesitant as she walks over to you, never feeling so nervous as you look up at her.

"You aren't going to break her Nat." You say and Nat's eyebrows furrow, seeing the tiny infant look up at her with Y/c/e. The baby took from both you and Natasha, having scarlet red hair from her and beautiful y/c/e from you. "I just don't know..I mean what if I drop her? What if I do something wrong?" Nat worries her bottom lip between her teeth and you only beckon her to come closer, scooting over so she can sit on the hospital bed.

"You won't Nat, I promise." You reassure her and she slowly sits down on the bed, following your instructions as she places her hands out. Gently transferring the baby into her arms, you smile as Mila looks up at her mama, letting out a soft "gah". "See? She loves you already." You hum as you rub Mila's hair gently, seeing the love on Natasha's face. "Hi Mila." Nat breathes out as you rest your head on her shoulder, watching your wife interact with the baby. The tears return to Natasha's eyes as the newborn looks up at her, her emotions going everywhere as she processes that this is her child, her little bundle of joy that she gets the privilege of sharing with you. "Thank you." Nat whispers out as she looks at you, a smile on her face as she sniffles.

"For what?" You question and she only kisses you softly, smile still on her face as she pulls away. "For giving me another reason to live for." She whispers and her statement covers a wide range, thank you for being her wife, thank you for giving her a chance, thank you for her daughter, thank you for giving her the family she's always wanted, just thank you.

----

Mila's cries ring out through your room and pierce your eardrums, rousing you and Nat from your slumber.

"Mm, I've got it." You sleepily mumble out of instinct as you start to get up, now used to getting woken up in the dead of night.

Mila still doesn't have a sleep schedule since she's a newborn so sometime's she'll sleep for a few hours and other times only for ten minutes.

This time around though, you get gently pushed back onto the bed by Natasha, feeling a comforting kiss placed on your temple as your wife gets up. "I've got it, moya lyubov'." She whispers and you don't have enough energy to resist, watching as Nat walks over to the bassinet. "Hi malen'kiy golub, you have a healthy set of lungs don't you?" Nat mumbles sleepily as she pulls the newborn from the crib, cradling the baby to her chest and gently rocking her back and forth. "Yeah I know, it's okay baby. It's okay, mama's got you." She hums as the baby's cries slowly die down, you still sitting on the bed as you watch your wife in awe. "Your mommies need their sleep huh little one, that sounds nice doesn't it." Nat yawns and you cant help but smile.

"But don't worry, every time you wake up we'll be here okay? We'll love you and hug you each time you cry. And I'm gonna protect you, malen'kiy golub. I won't let anything happen to you or your mommy, I promise." Natasha coos as she continues to rock Mila, not noticing how you're wide awake now. It's a soft, quiet vow, spoken in the dead of night, that Natasha will protect her family with everything she has in her..and it makes you fall more in love with her, if that's even possible.

Getting up, you make your way over to your wife, gently placing your hands on her shoulders to notify her of your presence. She knew you were coming as soon as she heard the bedsheets rustle, even in her tired state she was looking out for the two of you. "Hi." Nat greets you softly and you only hum, a tired smile on your face as you rest your head on her shoulder. Your hand comes up and is gently placed on Mila's back, rubbing soft circles on her onesie. Natasha's heart swells as she looks at her small family, smiling when you kiss her cheek. "I love you." You whisper before looking down at your daughter. "And I love you too." You hum, gently kissing her fiery red hair. Nat kisses your temple gently and closes her eyes, finally at peace with her daughter in her arms and you at her side.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

nobody wants to hear you sing about tragedy

read on ao3

Eddie’s fine. Really. He’s got a fresh scar on his right shoulder, a twin to his other one, and a couple more medical bills to pay off, but other than that, everything is good.

Why shouldn’t it be? Things could be worse — he could’ve lost his arm, could’ve been shot in the spine instead, could’ve not survived the trip to the hospital. But he did — he’s healed, he’s still breathing, and he’s ready to get back to work on Monday, to stop staring at the inside of his house and get back to the life he’d finally started to feel settled in. There’s a twinge in his chest every time he thinks about actually being back out in the field, but it’s just nerves, a small worry at getting back into the swing of things. He knows the team and how well they work together, so he’s sure one rope rescue with Buck is all it’ll take to feel normal again.

He’s fine. Or almost fine. Really, he is. He doesn’t let the tremble in his hands or the ice in his gut tell him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t really register, the first time it happens. There’s a glint of light in his periphery, and for a second, his arms go numb. It’s just a second, though — he sees the flash again, sunlight shining off an axe Ravi is packing onto the truck, and he moves on, doesn’t think about it again.

The next time, the wind whips by his ear a little too fast after a call at the pier, and he turns around so quickly he cracks his neck, the thought of bulletbulletbullet ricocheting in his head. It gets him a concerned look from Bobby and reminds him that he never called that therapist his doctor mentioned at his last visit, but he elects to deal with it later and moves on.

Things keep happening, but they’re all small, insignificant — someone laughing too loudly at dinner, the feel of hot asphalt under his hands as he reaches under the ambulance for a runaway bandage roll, a phantom jolt of pain in his shoulder when someone accidentally jostles him running to the truck.

Tiny things, meaningless, not even worth remembering.

He’ll get used to them, eventually. He’s been healing, isolated from the real world for months now, it’s going to be a bit of a shock to his system and his senses.

He doesn’t call the therapist.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s happy. Genuinely happy, in an open, honest way that Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen. His laughs are still loud but they’re freer, unrestrained, and his smile is bright enough to light whatever room he’s in. It makes something sing in Eddie’s chest, especially when all that wattage gets directed at him. If he’s honest, the music’s been there for a while, it just took lying in his own blood, reaching toward the only thing that felt like safety, for him to finally put a name on the song that’s been playing.

Talk about shitty timing.

Because Buck’s with Taylor now, and as much as he still doesn’t care for her, she’s helping with Buck’s new attitude too. He sees the soft smiles that linger after a text from her, and he only gives himself a minute to wish it were for him instead before reminding himself how much of a miracle those smiles are at all.

If he had watched Buck get shot, been splattered with his blood, been soaked with it as he tried to stop it from leaking out of his chest, he’s not sure he would’ve had any kind of happiness to spare.

So he adds this feeling, this particularly green beast twisting in his chest, to the list of things that he’s just going to have to get used to, and moves on. Buck is still in his and Chris’ life, still at their house more than his own, still the center of both of their worlds, and that’s enough. 

It has to be.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, Eddie, you look like shit.”

He glares at Chimney as best he can, but he’s too tired for it to hold any heat. “Good morning to you too, Chim.”

Hen sits next to him at the table where he’s nursing his second mug of coffee of the day, downing the first one before driving Chris to school. She presses the back of her hand to his forehead, and he tries not to melt into the touch too much.

“You don’t feel warm,” she says, “but you look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”

He shrugs, staring down at his coffee. “Just haven’t been sleeping well.”

That may be an understatement. Not sleeping well implies sleeping at all, which Eddie’s not sure he’s been able to do in the past few days. It was easy enough when he first got home, still on pain meds that made his eyelids constantly heavy. And when Chris crawled into his bed the night after his sling came off, quiet but sniffling and burrowing into his side, it was a relief to gather him up close, a hand stroking through his hair as they both drifted off, clinging to each other. It was good for both of them, necessary to remind them both that Eddie is still here, but Chris went to his own room on Monday night instead of Eddie’s, and Eddie refused to take that choice away from him. 

So he’s been alone, in a too dark room with a too big bed and a too loud brain that only shows him flashes of light and blood and fear whenever he does try to close his eyes.

Just another thing he has to get used to.

He sees Chim and Hen exchange a look and hopes to God they don’t press it. He’s beyond frayed, his state of exhaustion warring with his almost constant state of hypervigilance, and he’s not sure if he’d snap or cry or both if they try to ask him any more questions. Either way, that’s not how he wants them or anyone else to see him, especially not at work. At work, he’s Mr. Cool, always level headed, always in the game, always on top of it. Despite the jumpiness, despite the sense of dread that seems to be a permanent fixture under his skin, he’s been able to keep that attitude going, even getting lost in it sometimes, feeling like the Eddie of four months ago again. If that starts to unravel, who knows what other parts of him will fall apart with it?

Luckily, they seem to get the hint, a pat on the back and a squeeze on the shoulder as they leave the loft to restock the ambulance. But even once they’re gone and he’s alone in the quiet of the loft again, Eddie feels exposed. Fragile. Vulnerable. Teetering on the edge of an abyss he can’t afford to fall into. And he hates it, because this isn’t him. He’s the protector, the provider, the guy who’s survived getting shot twice now, and as much as he encourages Chris to be open and emotional, it still feels wrong to him, like something too close to failure. He knows, rationally, that talking about the mess in his head would probably help, but it would also feel like a loss. Like this one-sided war he’s been fighting was all for nothing.

He hears Buck before he sees him, his unmistakable bounding up the stairs echoing through the whole loft. Just that sound, just the knowledge that Buck is about to be in his vicinity, is enough to yank Eddie back from the edge. He’s not settled or calm or better, but he’s not worse. These days, that’s all he can really ask for.

Buck takes Hen’s vacant seat, stealing a sip of coffee and chattering about a traveling art exhibit he thinks they should take Chris to. Eddie feels the vice on his ribs loosen, letting Buck’s voice and enthusiasm wash over him, pushing him back to center. He doesn’t quite make it, not when Buck stops talking mid-sentence, brow furrowed and looking so intensely at Eddie he can probably see right through him

“You look tired,” Buck says. 

Tired isn’t a strong enough word. But he smirks half heartedly instead, willing a little bit of his confidence back to get the subject changed sooner. “And here I thought I looked good today.”

“No, you always—“ Buck clears his throat and shakes his head, “You just look like you could use a nap. Are you okay?”

And for the first time since he woke up in the hospital with a new hole in his body and extra demons in his head, Eddie doesn’t want to say he’s fine. In the face of earnest blue eyes and worry lines, he doesn’t want to lie, and that’s exactly what an I’m fine would be, no matter how much he’s been trying to ignore it. He doesn’t want to downplay and pretend that it’s nothing, because it’s Buck. Buck who has seen him lower than he’s ever let anyone see, who slept on his couch so he was never too far away from him or Chris, who knows when Eddie needs to be pulled or pushed or pressed or none of the above. 

He doesn’t want to just say he’s fine, because he’s not.

The courage to say so finally fills him, just in time for Buck’s phone to light up, Taylor’s name flashing across the screen on two messages. Buck doesn’t even glance at his phone before flipping it face down and pushing it to the side, but it’s too late — Eddie feels his walls going back up, any bravery leaving to make room for the reminder that Buck is in a good place and Eddie will do anything to keep him there. He’ll take another bullet, he’ll keep every emotion under lock and key, he’ll carve his own damn heart out of his chest if he has to. He cannot — will not — be the reason that smile that’s become so natural on Buck’s face dims by even a watt. 

The crease in between Buck’s brow has only gotten deeper the longer Eddie hasn’t answered, so he musters up the most genuine smile he can. “I’m okay, Buck. I promise.” The lie cuts through his throat like broken glass.

Buck squints at him, scooting forward until his knees are digging into Eddie’s thigh. “You’d tell me if you weren’t, right?”

“Of course,” he says, another lie, more salt in the wounds he’s already given himself. Buck’s quiet for a few long moments, studying Eddie’s face, and Eddie prays that he doesn’t crack, that Buck doesn’t keep pressing. By some miracle, he doesn’t, just rests a hand on Eddie’s knee and squeezes before heading to the pantry for a snack.

The vice is back as soon as he’s out of sight, and Eddie’s list of things he has to learn to live with is starting to feel a little too long.

~~~~~~~~~~

Healing isn’t linear. It’s something he’s heard from every doctor he’s seen, every therapist he’s been assigned to, something he’s experienced first hand, physically and emotionally. So when he wakes up one morning feeling rested, energetic, and normal, he’s wary. He doesn’t want to focus on it, afraid he’ll scare this fragile feeling away, but he also wants to soak in it as much as he can. Wants to remember the easy laughs with the team and the night of board games with Chris and Buck when he’s inevitably surrounded by darkness again tomorrow.

He falls asleep and he doesn’t dream and he wakes up and feels...normal. Again. Same thing the morning after, and the morning after that. For a whole week, he doesn’t wake up with the taste of blood in his mouth or a soreness in his shoulder. He hears birds and sees the sun peaking in and feels something dangerously close to good. The wariness is still there, but every day it gets pushed a little farther back in his mind, making it a little easier to believe that while this feeling might not last, maybe it won’t be as dark when the clouds roll back in.

He’s wrong. 

The restlessness comes back with a vengeance — a thrumming in his blood that won’t let him sleep, that amplifies every sound to sharp snaps that remind him too much of the gunfire he’s been trying to forget, putting him constantly on edge again. There’s a heaviness too, making it hard to breathe, hard to move, even though staying in one place for too long feels like putting a target on his back for the monsters that have made a home in his head.

He tries to keep his cool, tries to keep the facade up, but it’s hard to keep your balance on a frayed tightrope.

Bobby notices the shift right away.

It doesn’t help that even the quiet thump of the oven closing makes Eddie flinch where he’s sitting at the kitchen counter. He had hoped that watching Bobby make breakfast would calm him, remind him of the countless hours he’s spent in Abuela’s kitchen doing the very same thing, but it doesn’t. He’s still jittery, worse than he can remember being, and everything just feels like too much. 

Bobby sets a to-go container down in front of him, and Eddie flinches (and curses himself) again. He looks up, confused, and is met with Bobby’s I’m about to tell you to do something and you are not allowed to say no look. Usually it’s Buck on the receiving end of that one.

He tries for a deflection. “Are we going somewhere, Cap?”

The look stays in place. “We are not. You are. There’s enough in there for you and Chris, take it home and don’t let me see you here for the next 48 hours.”

“There’s still three hours left of shift.”

Bobby pushes the container closer. “Go home, Diaz. Be with your kid. We’ll talk when you get back. And if you won’t talk to me, we’ll find someone you will talk to.”

Normally, he’d fight back. Raise his hackles, insist he doesn’t need any special treatment or intervention. But he feels like his insides have been scooped out and replaced with lead and cement and he’s tired. He barely has enough left in him to keep himself upright.

He slowly picks up the container and gets up to leave. Bobby calls his name as he gets to the top of the stairs.

“We’re here for you,” he says. “You’ve been through too much to be handling this on your own. Just let us know how we can help.”

I would if I could, but I don’t even know where to start. 

He just nods, hopes his face looks some degree of reassuring, and heads to the locker room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The way Chris’ face lights up when he sees Eddie waiting for him in the front office is enough to thaw the ice in his chest for a minute. He can hear the exact octave his mother’s voice would reach if she heard about him pulling Chris out of school for “no good reason”, but he also could not give less of a shit.

He feels a little bit more like a person with Chris in the backseat. That’s a good enough reason for him.

They set up camp in the park near their house, Bobby’s food and extra snacks Eddie picked up spread out between them, and Chris fills Eddie in on all the things he missed while he was working. He tries to focus on everything — Chris’ excitement about his upcoming science fair, the Sour Patch Watermelon sugar stuck to the tip of his nose, the way his hands move with his words. Eddie feels better, more settled, just getting to bask in the sun and in Chris like this, but he still feels heavy, like every move he makes has him fighting against gravity, threatening to pull him into the dirt. 

There’s a crack from the playground in front of them, and Eddie’s blood turns to ice. He’s halfway to standing before he sees it’s just some kids snapping sticks in half to build some kind of log cabin. He lets out a slow breath as he sits back down and wills his heartbeat back to normal.

Chris is staring at him, eyes intense and brow furrowed, very similar to someone else they know.

Shit.

As soon as he’s settled, Chris moves to sit in the criss-cross of his legs. He’s a little too on the lanky side for this anymore, but Eddie’s absolutely not going to complain. Chris twists until he’s looking Eddie in the eye. Eddie does his best not to look away.

Chris rests a hand on his cheek. “It’s okay if you’re feeling bad,” he says. “You can talk to me about it, if you want.”

The crack comes from Eddie’s own heart this time. His kid has been through so much in 10 short years, and it’s only made him wiser than he should be, compassionate and understanding and open, ready to be there for anyone without a second thought. He’s good in every sense of the word, and Eddie’s in awe of the fact that he, somehow, has something to do with that. And the last thing he wants to do is lie to his son, but he just...can’t. Talk about it. Not now. Not yet. Not in a way that will keep Chris this good.

He has no way of articulating all that, so he just wraps his arms around Chris’ middle and squeezes him close.

“I know, buddy. Thank you. I’ll be okay, and we’ll talk soon.”

It’s not a lie, but it’s not everything.

It seems to be enough for Chris, though. He nods and pats Eddie’s face before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a library book. “Well, I’m gonna read to you until you feel better, just like you do for me.”

It’s the first real smile Eddie’s cracked in months. He kisses the top of Chris’ head, settling his chin there as Chris leans back into his chest.

“Sounds like a good plan to me.”

They sit there for a while longer, Chris reads to him about Percy and Annabeth and Grover, and Eddie, inexplicably, feels a little bit lighter.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck’s Jeep is parked outside when they get home, and Chris practically breaks down the door to greet him. It looks like he’s gone all out, too — Chinese food on the table, the promise of cookies and cream ice cream in the fridge, and a list of movies that Chris ecstatically agrees with as Buck lists them off. Chris hurries off to change and clean up for dinner, and Eddie moves to start opening plastic lids and cardboard containers. 

“You didn’t have to go to all this trouble,” he says. He leaves out just having you with us is enough.

Buck waves him off. “Anything for you two.”

He could leave it at that, keep up the comfortable silence as they move around the kitchen in tandem, but there’s a nagging memory that he has to ask about or he’ll never stop thinking about it.

“Didn’t you have a date with Taylor tonight?”

Buck tenses ever so slightly, a container of dumplings shifting in his hand. “Cancelled,” he says with a shrug.

Eddie knows there’s more, but Chris comes back before he can ask, and it doesn’t feel like a conversation they can have in front of a 10 year old. So they eat, and fall into the familiar banter between the three of them, and for half an hour, Eddie can be present. He can forget the last six months and the weight still hanging off of him and live in this moment, with the two most important people in his life, and pretend that this is all there is. Just these two and their joy and warmth that wraps around him tight enough to make him feel alive again, if only for a little while.

Two bowls of ice cream and one and a half movies later, Chris is dead to the world. Buck carries him to bed and Eddie tries to ignore the new ache that’s sprung up of the course of the evening, the one that wants and pulls towards Buck like a magnet. The one that almost purrs when Buck settles back on the couch so close they’re touching from ankle to (good) shoulder, contentedness washing over the living room as they find a rerun of The Shawshank Redemption playing on cable. It’s not perfect, there’s still a roiling in his blood that won’t seem to leave him alone, but he feels better than he has in God knows when.

Buck shifts closer to Eddie, eyes glowing in the light of the TV, and Eddie never wants him to leave. “Thanks for coming tonight. I— Chris and I both really needed this, I think.”

“I told you, anything for you two. Always.”

He ignores the way his stomach flips and tries to focus on the movie. He gets about five minutes of peace before another thought comes back, still nagging him, mixing with his anxiety enough to actually force him to say something.

He aims for cool and casual. “So, you and Taylor...everything okay?”

Buck gives him a very long, almost challenging look before turning off the TV. Seems he missed that casual mark. “I should be asking you the same thing.” “Very funny.”

“I’m not trying to be. I’m really worried about you, Eds.”

“This isn’t my first time getting shot, I know how to handle it.” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it does, but he can’t bring himself to care, either. He doesn’t have the energy to keep a filter up anymore.

“Eddie, I’m serious.”

“I’m fine, Buck,” he says sharply, and he’s surprised his teeth haven’t fallen out of his head yet with how hard he’s lying through them. He hates that he’s lying to Buck at all, but those smiles he’s gotten used to have been fewer and farther between recently, and he knows it’s his fault. He might feel like his own seams are coming apart, but he’ll be damned if he rips Buck open too, even if it means pushing him away from his mess. “You’ve got a life and a girlfriend to worry about, I’ll figure everything out on my own.” 

“I don’t.”

“What?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend. We broke up.”

Eddie pauses, curses the faint hope that sparks in his chest. “Why?”

“Because I’ve been a little distracted by someone else for the past few months. It didn’t feel fair to her to keep it going.”

He gives him another long look, and Eddie might be a little dense when it comes to things like this, but that look breaks through loud and clear. This is it. This is real. This is everything he’s wanted for the past six months — and probably longer than that — but now that it’s happening, it doesn’t feel right. Buck was happy, free, finally settled into his own skin, and it’s all gone now because of Eddie and his stupid, broken everything. He knows he won’t be able to give Buck everything he needs, at least right now, but Buck needs to know that too. “Buck—”

“Nope,” he says with a firm shake of his head. “I know you’re gonna try and blame yourself for this somehow, but…don’t. It was bound to happen anyway. Because you’re right, I do have a life, but it’s you two. You and Chris. That’s all I need it to be. That’s all I want it to be. And I hate that it took so long for me to figure out, that it took you getting shot, but we’re here now.” His eyes shutter a bit as he looks down at his hands. “At least, I hope we are.”

And there it is. So simple, so easy, for Buck to admit this huge thing that Eddie thought he was dancing around on his own. The ease reminds Eddie, through his fog of sadness and anger and every other bleak feeling that’s been controlling him, that that’s what makes them work so well together. Honesty. Being able to show all their ugly, mismatched inside parts to each other and still find the beauty, the ways to help, the ways to hold each other together when they need it the most.

And Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever needed to be held together more than he does right now.

“Ask me,” he whispers, the sound seeming to echo around the room.

“Ask you what?”

“Ask me if I’m okay.”

Buck shuffles on the couch until they’re facing each other, takes both of Eddie’s hands in his. 

“Eddie,” he says softly, “are you okay?”

The world blurs as the tears he’s been fighting finally break free, but he feels strong. Brave. Like he can do anything now that Buck’s holding his hand.

“No,” he says, a crack in his voice but the conviction behind it still firm. “No, I’m not okay.”

The floodgates open, and he lets everything wash over him, all the things he’s been holding back, forcing away in the hopes that they’d just disappear one day. He’s floating and sinking and lost in the waves of it all, but strong arms wrap around him and pull him close, and there’s relief. Not a lot, not enough, but it’s there, for the first time since he woke up in the hospital. He feels safe here, with Buck wiping away his tears and pressing kisses along his hairline. He honestly forgot what safety felt like, was sure he’d never feel anything like it again. But he knew it that day he was bleeding out on the street, and he knows it now — it feels like Buck’s sweatshirt and smells like his aftershave and sounds like whispers of it’s okay and I’ve got you.

It all subsides, eventually, but Buck still holds him close, presses their foreheads together so there’s nothing else Eddie can focus on. His eyes are piercing, bright like Eddie only usually sees when Buck has a plan that refuses to be derailed.

“Let me help, Eddie,” he says, punctuated with a kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “I know you think you can do this yourself, but you don’t have to. I don’t want you to. Let me help you carry it.”

His voice left with the rush of everything, so all Eddie can do is nod before sinking back into Buck, into relief. Even that simple motion, the silent acknowledgement that he’s not alone anymore, is enough to let small seeds of hope sink into him and take root. They’re still weak, still unfamiliar, but they’re here, waiting to grow. 

And Eddie knows, with a certainty that he forgot he was capable of, that Buck will be here to help tend to them, no matter how long it takes for them to blossom.

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eddie wakes up the next morning, he still feels weighed down. There’s still an edge, an unease low in his gut, anxiety still crawling through his veins.

He’s not okay. But he looks over and sees Buck — breathing even, arm thrown over Eddie’s stomach, keeping him close — and the ever-present darkness fades from an angry black to melancholy grey. Not perfect, not even close, but better.

He’s not okay. He hasn’t been for a while. But now, finally, he feels like he will be.

[obeymeluv]

QUICK! KISS ME! [Bros x Reader]

A lead-up blurb before I go to bed.

School is killing me. This has been in the drafts far longer than I wanted.

No offense if your name is Bethany. It’s a name I picked at random.

The follow-up piece will have the kiss scenarios.

△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽

Some of Asmo’s friends may have used you to get into a special makeup event, but it’s okay! They bought you a lip gloss as a thank you! The shade ‘Sealed with a Kiss’ was not what you thought it’d be

△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽△▽

Being one of the first humans in the Devildom could be uncomfortable and sometimes down-right dangerous! It also had its perks. To you, that meant being close with the Seven Lords of Hell (and Diavolo). To other lesser demons and classmates, you were kind of a ‘get out of jail’ free card.

Were they late to class? Oh, just helping the human out!

Caught sneaking in food or drink when they weren’t supposed to? It’s to split with the human, of course! They thought you’d love to try it!

Everyone was keen not to overuse it and you’d actually made good friends this way. It was starting to feel less like an excuse and more of a way to be included. You were the friendly, reliable human that had won hearts and saved some asses. As a thank you, one of your closer friends (a repeat offender for lateness), invited you out to an exclusive makeup release. She was a VIP member and had early access an hour before the store opened to the Devildom public. 

The fact that she chose you, a human, over some LITERAL century-old friends caused a bit of tension but she could care less. “I’ve seen them every day for over a hundred years. You get one year, and we’re going to make it awesome!” Bethany breezed through the store at a dizzying pace, picking through concealers and opening a box of mascara to look at the packaging. She moved at a pace only demons could manage; you thought you saw her by the nail polish display but when you looked again she was throwing sheet masks in her basket. Hooking her arm with yours, she picked up some foundation on the way back to the coveted display of lip glosses and lipsticks.

You weren’t totally versed in the differences between Devildom makeup and human world makeup. In all honesty, there didn’t seem to be a difference. Bethany swatched powdery cream lipsticks on her wrist and followed with ribbons of liquid lipstick. Every now and then she dotted them on your arm; she was adamant about finding a shade the both of you could wear as your thing.  

“This one,” she decided, waving the tube at you and booping your nose with it carefully. “This is our color!” she took you by the hand and joined the checkout line. She had two in her hand but refused to let you so much as hold one, wanting to pay for it first. It wasn’t technically breaking the purchase limit rule; if they tried to nag her she’d just say she was holding onto it so another demon didn’t bully you out of it. You didn’t know if it was her VIP status or the fact that her defense made sense, but you were able to check out without a problem.

A few sour faces and mean glares met you outside but Bethany ignored it all, eager to have a Devilgram-worthy celebratory snack break (snack victory? You know, since you got the makeup?) The plan was to eat, hold down a table at the nearby cafe while her other friends shopped, and have group makeovers (or try-ons) before calling it a day. That plan was interrupted three bites into a croissant sandwich when Lucifer summoned you back to the House of Lamentation. He’d gotten wind of all the girls you’d be with and didn’t feel totally comfortable letting you hang out with them,

Had Barbatos seen something? Did Lucifer feel spurned that you weren’t hanging out with the Seven Lords of the Devildom? He gave no answer, simply asking you to stay put while someone came to escort you back to the house. Bethany was put off by the turn of events but few people dared to complain about the Seven Lords due to their connections with Diavolo (she was no exception). “If we can’t get the full makeover, we’re getting the selfie!” she declared, deftly breaking the seal to her Sealed with a Kiss gloss and swiping it on with help from the front-facing camera on her D.D.D

You busied yourself with opening your tube. Before you could ask for her phone (since the camera was already open), she took the tube from you and tilted your chin up. She dabbed the center of your lips playfully before carefully tracing your lips with the color. The heat rose in your cheeks and she smirked. Being part succubus, she could draw energy from emotions like embarrassment and the feeling of being flattered. Her fingertips pulsed under your chin as she drew on that energy. 

Getting energy sucked could feel like a lot of things -- being light-headed, getting a rush of excitement, all prickly and tingly like your whole body was pins and needles. Whatever it was, it usually faded into drowsiness and kittenish contentment. She probably only touched your chin for seconds but the wash of coziness had you melting against your chair, your cheek cradled in her palm. 

Did she take the pic? What was happening? It felt like Asmodeus had materialized out of thin air, helping you stand and making small-talk with Bethany before pulling you away, out of her aura that was trying to suckle the vestiges of happy energy you offered.

“And what shade did you get on those pretty lips, hm?” the cotton fell out of your head and ears, allowing you to really hear Asmo now that the aura effects had worn off.

“Uh,” you fished around in your bag and looked at the packaging. “Sealed with a Kiss.”

Asmodeus stopped so abruptly it’d almost yanked you back to him. The two of you were barely tangled at the pinkies and now he’d completely laced your hands together. He held your hands captive, drawing them up in surprise and basically dragging you into his torso. You were forced to look up into glittering pink eyes and if you didn’t know any better, they looked a little panicked.

“How long ago did you apply it?”

“I don’t know.” you blinked helplessly at him. That energy suck thing had a way of making your brain tune out and turn to pudding. That aside, who knows how long Asmo stood there and talked to Bethany while you were being siphoned?! “Bethany applied it, not me.”

Asmo clicked his tongue, huffed, resigned himself to only holding one hand. and started scrolling on his D.D.D to find that selfie Bethany posted. You were being dragged along like a child as Asmo’s shoes clicked towards the House of Lamentation. It amazed you how well he could navigate his D.D.D with his long, painted nails. 

Whatever he was looking for, he found it.

Asmodeus tucked his D.D.D into his pants pocket, scooped you up in a way that terrified and amazed you (two people being supported by one set of heels?), and flew to the House of Lamentation. He didn’t always use his wings, as he preferred to decorate them and maintain them with oils, but the fact that he was flying made you nervous.

What had he found? What was the deal?

“Asmo--” you started nervously, the flapping of his wings nearly drowning you out as he pushed himself. Flying against the wind didn’t help. Your hair was a mess and the wind was in your face; the Devildom was always a little chilly but now it was enough to make your face tingly.

“She gave you enchanted makeup. There is a reason humans don’t use enchanted makeup.” Asmo’s pretty brows furrowed as he cut a hard angle and glided over a portion of the square. The tell-tale thicket of trees that lined the winding path back to the House of Lamentation were on the edge of the horizon.

“What’s going to happen?” should you ask that? Did you really want to know?

“You’ll feel something in your lips--some people felt tingling, some people felt pulsing, it can be anything, I think--and then they’ll seal shut.”

“SHUT?!” you yelped. It was enough to make Asmo wince. The startle carried over to his wings; they shuddered and locked; the two of you dropped for a heartbeat or two before he corrected himself.

“If I can’t get some makeup remover on it first.” Asmo panted, tucking his wings in and preparing for a quick descent. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought to teleport first--the panic? Trying to one-up Bethany by walking home and being extra cute with hand-holding?--but a quick touch down could roll into a simple skip teleportation and everything should work out!

“But my lips are already tingly!”

“Ugh, Bethany! I can’t believe you! I mean, I can because it’s you, but really, Bethany?”

“Asmo, focus!” you’d already skipped several feet ahead, clearing the front yard in two teleports. The third put you in the foyer. “I don’t want my lips to seal shut!”

The House of Lamentation was huge but when the occupants had supernatural hearing, that exclamation turned heads. 

“What’s this about your lips sealing shut?” Lucifer appeared at the top of his stairs, his head already shaking.

“DID YOU MAKE A PACT WITH A WITCH?!” Mammon screamed down the hall, clearly not far behind.

Asmo scoffed, lowering his D.D.D with a pout. He was halfway up the main stairs, fingers working at lightning speed. “It’s the lip color!” he explained, stomping his foot. Noisy people were just so annoying! If everyone was talking he couldn’t explain! How rude! 

“All this over some makeup?” skeptical Satan peered over the banister, book and arm casually propped up on it.

“If two people apply the color and kiss, they’re locked in a makeout session until it dries down. When one person applies the lip color, they can use it like a cheat sheet to see who secretly wants to kiss them,” his words tapered out from authoritatively informed to quiet and shy. “It’s from their ‘Liquid Love’ collection.” he muttered into the stunned silence of the room.

You were trying to open your lips and ask why. The magic had already taken hold. Asmodeus could see you trying to move your lips and strain your chin. Luckily, demons could read minds. “It’s because Bethany is stupid.” Asmodeus rolled his eyes. “Ambitious, but stupid.”

“Please explain, Asmo.” even when using the dear nickname Lucifer couldn’t hide the demand. His demon aura was creeping up his body and slowly becoming jagged and suffocating.

“Bethany has had a HUGE crush on our little human here, and wanted to seal it with a kiss, so to speak.” Asmo’s cheeks got pinker and pinker as he explained. Mostly because he was mad he didn’t think about it. His heart did something funny at the thought of you kissing someone else. Lucifer also looked like he wanted to murder someone about now, and Asmo had to remind himself that he was being looked through, not looked at.   

“Just grab a napkin and wipe it off.” Mammon shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Asmodeus shook his head angrily. “It’s too late now. We need to find someone for them to kiss! Someone’s lips will break the seal on theirs...that’s kind of the point of the enchantment.”

“So they just pick someone to kiss?” Levi’s face was turning tomato red. Would it be him?! It would at least be one of them, right? What if your person wasn’t in the House of Lamentation and you NEVER SPOKE AGAIN?!

“Sort of.” Asmo patted your shoulders with his gentle, smooth hands. He started to rub them like he was trying to warm you up. Partly in encouragement and partly to get your attention because he could feel your brain spiraling down into panic. “They basically follow their mouth.”

“So that lip color is like a crush detector?” Satan abandoned his book at the top of the stairs and was now perusing articles on his D.D.D as he sauntered down the steps. It sounded like he’d found the one that sent Asmo flying to the House of Lamentation.

“Basically.” Asmo sighed. It was the stupidest way to confess to someone, he thought. Demon to demon, it was fine. Demon to human?! NO! The whole thing gave him a headache. The fact that Bethany thought she could just steal your little lips and be greedy with them was the biggest annoyance of it all.

“So,” Satan’s green eyes cut sharply from his phone to you. The corner of his lips curled up in a smart little smirk. He knew it was wrong to find your predicament so funny, but this was a very human thing to get mixed up in. “Who do your lips want? Who do you feel yourself being drawn to?”

[sagendipity]

reminder i'm sage i used to be notplanningshit until i accidentally deleted my blog so now im reposting my works!

info: quackity x reader, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, no warnings

on frizzy hair and the pursuit of perfection

Intellectually, in the rational side of your brain, you know that what you’re feeling is stupid.

You see the Instagram posts talking about the importance of self-affirmation and mental health. You see the tweets saying that people are more than their family’s perception of them. You realize that having a condescending and judgmental family is almost a right of passage for your generation.

These are all things you know, intellectually. But knowing something intellectually does jack shit for actually convincing your heart of whatever you know. You can yell at yourself all you want, but it’s clearly not your rational brain making you tear up at yet another text from your dad that was along the lines of “cool, could be better, though.”

You just want someone, just once, to celebrate an achievement with you. You want to be excited to share something with someone, without fear of them scoffing in the face of your pride and excitement. In your family- hell, in the world, certainly- someone has always done better, and you’re damn sure to be reminded of such.

It’s been years of this same behavior, ever since you can remember. It’s not just your dad, either, it’s your whole family- aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins. The whole town you grew up in had this haughty, arrogant air about it, where everyone was constantly competing, even if there was no reason for it. Take the hardest classes, get the least sleep, get the biggest scholarship. Even your friends would flex their better test scores at you, and refuse to help you with the homework, in case you somehow got a better score on a test than them. You know it’s how they were raised, they’re just a product of their environment and don’t know how bad it hurts, but it still stung then, and probably always will. You’re still in contact with a few of them, and it’s just more of the same whenever you exchange a handful of quick texts every couple months.

You know you should stop giving information about your achievements to them, but when your dad texts and asks how you are, there’s not much you can reply with other than “good, got a promotion at work!” From there, it’s a slippery slope of him asking what new benefits you got, and then the judgmental few moments where the gray dots disappear and reappear while he tries to compose his thoughts about your inadequacy in the least-abrasive way a middle-aged man can. That is to say, not un-abrasively at all. In fact, his words are often delivered with the finesse of low-grit sandpaper on soft wood.

Well, could be more. Work harder and maybe you’ll get an increase next month. I got a lot of bonuses at work when I was your age. All you have to do is take the bad shifts and get some good customer reviews. You’ll get there.

You stare at the fresh new message on your phone screen before clicking it off with a bone-deep sigh, your eyes betraying your rational side by, again, tearing up. You shove the heels of your hands into your eyes and rub until the tears are forced away and you see spots.

That’s how Alex finds you, sat on the foot of your shared bed with your hands rubbing fiercely at your eyes. He’s probably just come to grab a hoodie- the setting sun brings with it a cool breeze that washes through your open windows and cools the house from the warmth it’d gathered from the day’s sun.

“You good?” He asks, opening his closet door and pulling out a hoodie. He wrestles it on over his head as he waits for your response- when he pushes his head out the other end, hair mussed and static-y, you still haven’t answered. “Baby?”

He comes and sits down next to you. Your eyes, red-rimmed but still dry, track his movements before flicking to catalog every tuft of disheveled hair protruding from his head. With a superficial smile, you reach up to smooth his long, black locks back and down into place. It doesn’t matter; he’s going to slip on a beanie sooner or later, but for now, you distract yourself by combing gentle fingers through the soft strands.

“Not that I don’t appreciate this,” Alex murmurs, brown eyes searching your face for an answer to what has you upset. “But what’s wrong?”

“Just my dad,” you whisper, not trusting your voice not to crack. You avoid his gaze, keeping your eyes fixed stubbornly on his hair as you finish your work. “There. You looked like a hedgehog.”

He huffs a little laugh, but scoots closer to you and grabs a hand out of your lap- you’d curled your hands into tight fists, your nails digging little red crescents into your palm. He uncurls the hand he’s holding and reaches for the other, but you save him the work by instead grabbing onto your own thigh tightly, redirecting the frustration. He rubs small circles into the aching skin of your other palm while he waits for you to gather yourself and explain, now that the ice has been broken on the topic.

“He always acts like whatever I do is just not quite good enough for him. They all do- him, my mom, even my fucking friends.” You rub your free hand down your face, trying to alleviate some tension. It does not work. “I don’t know why I’m still upset. They’ve been doing it forever.”

“That’s probably why you’re still upset. You hope they’d grown up enough to stop doing that.” Alex presses his thumb into the center of your palm. It grounds you, and you swallow around the lump in your throat.

“It’s not even a matter of immaturity- it’s not as simple as a pissing contest. It’s just who they are. They don’t think perfection exists, but they want me to achieve it anyways.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. That sounds exhausting.”

He sounds so sincere, so genuine, like the idea of you being treated this way is deeply upsetting to him. You’d never really… experienced that. Someone recognizing your struggle, and admitting that it must fucking suck is something you’d never been graced with.

His brow is furrowed in a display of concern, eyes gentle and searching. He’s not lying, he means what he said, and he’s not going to follow it up with a “but-,”.

Eyes beginning to sting again, you lean forward until you’re resting your forehead on his shoulder. The soft fabric of his hoodie immediately calms you, along with the warmth you can feel emanating from him. It makes sense, after all, that the personification of pure sunshine would have such warmth about them.

Alex scoots forward, gathering you more closely in his arms, his legs awkwardly folded so that you can sit right in front of him. His hands come up to hold you, one fisting in the fabric of your sweatshirt, and the other resting on the back of your neck, gentle, but firm. You let out a shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. Not going to cry.

“I got a promotion at work,” you mutter, taking a long, deep breath. You brace yourself, waiting for a dismissive response. “That’s what set my dad off- I got- he-.”

Your voice cracks, and you trail off with a small sigh, clutching at Alex’s hoodie even tighter. It’s thick and soft under your fingers, and you knead at it like a cat.

“A promotion?! Baby, that’s amazing!” Alex pulls back just enough to take a glance at you, his own expression steeling from excitement back to sadness as he sees that you are still fighting back tears. “Sweetheart, I think you’re the only person to ever cry after getting a promotion.”

A little laugh escapes your chest, huffy and wet, but still a laugh. Alex’s lips curl into a smile as he reaches up to smooth back some of your stray hairs, like you’d done for him a moment or two ago. You smile, reaching up to intercept his hand, and lace the two of you’s fingers together.

He squeezes your hand where it’s resting in his grip, looking at your linked fingers briefly. “Also, your family is wrong.”

“About what specifically?” You huff, wiping at your eyes for hopefully the final time.

“About perfection not existing. It does, and I know exactly what it looks like.” Despite the serious words, Alex is fighting back a smile. You narrow your eyes at him, already anticipating the next thing he’s going to say. “It looks like you, dumbass.”

You groan, feeling a hot blush rise to your cheeks immediately. You tip forward to bury yourself in Alex’s neck, this time hiding your flustered face and stupidly happy grin.

“I can feel your smile against my neck, you know.”

“Oh, fuck off-.”

With the hand that’s on the back of your neck, Alex coaxes you out of hiding just to press a kiss to your forehead. “Really. I am proud of you. I don’t want you to be afraid to tell me about your achievements because of what your family has done to you.”

“Okay,” you whisper again, voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

He hums in response, tilting his head and looking at you with what can only be described as pure fondness in his eyes. Then, he leans down to meet you for a delicate kiss, and your eyes finally stop stinging.

[kstewdeux]

@inukagfluffweek

August 14, 2021 - Family

Sure

Summary: Inuyasha & Kagome discuss starting a family

“Knee,” Kagome whined softly as her foot prodded her husband’s leg so it would go where she wanted, “Knee Inuyasha.”

With a tired sigh, Inuyasha slid his foot up until it rested comfortably against his thigh and adjusted his hips so falling asleep in that position wouldn’t make him lock up. It was a tried and true ritual. One that he didn’t mean to perpetuate but Kagome was always the last one to go to bed. Always. So by the time she changed and brushed her hair and washed her face and did whatever else she felt inclined to do, he was typically asleep in a position he found comfortable. Kagome told him he slept like a vampire but having met and fought vampires Inuyasha had no idea what she was talking about. Besides, he didn’t know why it had always seemed to matter how he slept. Sitting up had just been how he’d done it for over a hundred years and even though three years had gone by, he still wasn’t used to those while laying down business. Having a body trained not to move wasn’t ideal for laying down and he usually woke up stiff. His muscles locking up for absolutely no reason out of habit. Sitting up, having muscles that locked was useful. Not so for how the rest of the world went down for the night.

Still, Kagome slept laying down. Always had. Always would. And he planned on sleeping next to her for the rest of her hopefully long life. Which killed the monk. Even occasional overnight exorcisms were out of the question. Sunup to sundown only.

“That better?” he yawned and Kagome nodded against the arm she was using as a pillow while Inuyasha’s hand absently played with tendrils of her hair.

One of the things he liked best was that in this position he could feel her ribs expand with each breath and the steady rhythm was soothing. Every couple found a sleeping position that worked for them it would seem and with his primary issue being hardwired survival anxiety, a cuddling position where no backs were being exposed worked best.

Problem with this position was that it’d make co-sleeping with an infant dangerous. Not that…that they were trying or even planning on having brats. Hell, they’d never spoken about it but by some unspoken understanding, they’d been careful. Kinda. Sometimes. Okay, fine, mainly they’d been whinging it and been lucky as hell.

But…you know…maybe one day…

Lips twitching upward, Inuyasha allowed himself to imagine what their own puffy blob of flesh would look like. Newborn babies…well they weren’t exactly the cutest things in the planet. More they looked like boiled prunes - both in color and looks. And the screams. But once they hit a few months old they definitely started looking more like tiny people and you could start seeing the parents. From a strangers perspective anyway. Miroku’s twins had always looked identical but they went through phases and who they favored depended on which parent was standing closest….

God he hoped whatever they had one day - not that he was even sure they’d have babies - was a girl. He’d make a decent looking boy or girl. After all, minus the coloring, he looked just like his mother who had been very pretty. Kagome…Kagome would only make a pretty girl. Sota sure as hell didn’t look like her though so maybe there were some okay looking boy genes in there but Inuyasha for the life of him could not imagine what a Kagome-looking boy would even be.

Nah. If they did one day have a…

“Why you purring?” Kagome hummed bemusedly in such a way that left him powerless to stop said noise. A noise that he’d only discovered he made since she fell back into his life. At first it bothered him that she called the chest growl thing a ‘purr’ but seeing as how he didn’t have a better name, he just rolled with it.

“Dunno,” he laughed softly.

“What were you thinking about?” Kagome hummed as she slowly and awkwardly began trying to roll towards him - something which had the purring noise stop immediately. It didn’t matter that his brain knew they were safe and there was no need to worry about being exposed. His body though….was hard wired to worry.

She froze.

“I didn’t…”

“S’not the question. It’s the stupid back thing,” Inuyasha reassured her wearily before running one hand over his face, “Look, I was thinking about us having kids, alright?”

The slow smile that bloomed on her lips as she sat up brought the soft purring sound back.

“And what were your initial thoughts?” Kagome asked curiously and the purring sound intensified.

“How newborns look like meat sacks,” he offered as he stretched his legs out and yawned, “And how they’re loud. And obnoxious. And how they shit everywhere…”

“Ah but said things made you happy,” Kagome observed and shrugging, Inuyasha didn’t deny it. Couldn’t anyway given the vibrations rumbling from his chest. Well, that was what they assumed it meant anyway. Could be he was dying or something. Wouldn’t that be the final kick in the balls.

“Thinking about it and living it are two different things. Reality is I’d fuck them up,” Inuyasha countered with an ill-checked half-grin, “You’d have to go around fixing them all the time.”

“You’d be a good daddy,” Kagome soothed as she lay back down and stared up at the ceiling - allowing Inuyasha to fully relax by covering her back. She never really thought of Inuyasha as the anxious type but apparently that was his secret to surviving so long and once they’d figured it out and pinned down his triggers to better avoid them, he’d actually been significantly less…grumpy. In fact, he could be downright pleasant most of the time.

Miroku and Sango had told her on more than one occasion that Inuyasha seemed, at times, like a completely new person. In public, he was still by and large snippy and obstinate but among friends and in private, his natural state of being sans anxiety was much more Kagome-like than any of them previously believed. Looking back, he had always seemed to find comfort in being around others but he was never what anyone would call sensitive or attune to emotional needs of others. In recent months, however, he’d been surprisingly observant, kind and gentle.

Well, actually it wasn’t all that surprising. The gentleness yes but the rest of it? No. Every time one of them lost it during the quest, Inuyasha was always the one who stepped up and did exactly the right thing to bring his friends’ minds back to center. In fact, his brand of abrasive encouragement was what saved their souls from being devoured by the moth demon’s trap. Whenever any of them felt like giving up, Inuyasha had been the one to encourage them to keep going. In some ways Inuyasha was so forgiving it was beyond understanding. For all his insults and for all his aggression, Inuyasha could be…damningly gracious. Kikyo being, well, Kikyo. Sango stealing his sword. Miroku trying to kill him. Shippo pulling trick after trick. None of those things ever drove him away.

That wasn’t to say Inuyasha didn’t get irritable or react poorly when said things happened but he did tend to let things go eventually and truly act like nothing happened. And his brand of love was protection and providing so there was that too.

So maybe it wasn’t all that surprising that being kind and gentle was his calm state of being. Now that he was more comfortable and no one was in imminent danger of dying a horrible, painful death; now that Kagome had been returned to him and everything worked out, how his natural being manifested was different was all.

But his anxiety still did rear it’s ugly head on occasion. New things. Unexpected things. Any slightly uncomfortable thing and he’d instantly snap his abrasive behavior back into place. There were also his triggers of course but those could be negated.

For example, he never slept with his back exposed and now that Kagome was, sorta, an extension of himself, his body decided to make him skittish at night if she too was left ‘open to attack.’ Not fun for anyone involved - the amount of twitching alone had kept them both awake until they figured out the issue.

“Don’t know how to be a father,” he sighed sadly - the purring sound grounding to halt, “So maybe…maybe kids isn’t something we should do. What…what if I hurt them? They won’t be like me. They’ll be mostly human. I’ll be too rough.”

“No because of that fear, I imagine you’d treat them like they might shatter,” Kagome pointed out and with that, Inuyasha reached over to intertwine their fingers.

“I could turn one day. You…or they might get hurt and I’ll make it worse,” he offered in a small voice, “I’m dangerous. I shouldn’t…and what if they can’t control what I give them? What if they’re born and…and they’re just like that all the time?”

Turning her head to look at his defeated face, Kagome sighed and waited for him to look at her. When he did, the worry mixed with longing made her heart ache. He wanted kids. That much was clear from his expression as was the fact that he didn’t trust himself.

“Inuyasha, I always bring you back, don’t I?” she pointed out and with a faint nod of acknowledgment, her statement seemed to soothe some of the anxiety that needed checking, “And our baby will be part me too. So it’ll have both….”

“It could purify itself. Hurt itself,” he countered shakily, “And we’re happy just the two of us. What if I’m a bad father and you end up hating me? What if it ends up being a mistake? Ruins everything?”

“I will never abandon you,” Kagome promised as she brought his hand up to her lips and gave his thumb a quick kiss, “Never.”

A nod and a relieved sigh. Like he knew that to be the case but wanted to hear it anyway. There was still some tension though which meant his fears hadn’t been addressed completely and so Kagome waited for him to continue. It had taken a few months but anymore he discussed everything with her. From feelings to fears to his past. The only thing off the table was Kikyo but that was more her hang up than his.

From his perspective, he found himself much lighter when he heard her opinion rather than just imaging what she was thinking. His inner monologue was usually depressing and rather cruel. Always assuming everyone hated him or was upset with him in some way. That everyone thought the worst. How he needed to receive love was verbal affirmations. Kagome would’ve thought it was touch but she discovered words were much more effective. What would’ve happened if she just told him back then how deeply he was loved? But, alas, she didn’t and it didn’t matter. In fact, that would’ve been worse. What if he achieved this and then had her taken away?

“I mean, do you want kids? You’ve never really said…” Inuyasha asked wearily and Kagome knew if she said yes, he’d do whatever she wanted. Even if it terrified him.

No. This needed to be his choice. His decision.

“What do you want?”

For a long moment, he was quiet before he swallowed and closed his eyes.

“I think you want them,” he answered evasively before pulling up one knee and fidgeting slightly, “And I don’t know. I want…I want, you know, the type of things Sango and Miroku have with their brats. And what I had with my mother before she got sick. I want someone to…to…you know, there’s just some type of connection. I…I wouldn’t mind being a brat’s person.”

“Their person?” Kagome asked curiously and Inuyasha let out a long sigh as he swayed his knee.

“Like…like you know they’ll take care of you. You scrape your knee. They fix it. You get hungry, they give you snacks. You get sad and just…just they….,” Inuyasha floundered before seemingly choosing a word to describe what he meant, “A helper. I wouldn’t mind being their helper.”

“You’d be the best helper,” Kagome sighed affectionately and Inuyasha eyes fluttered open.

“You really think so? I don’t have the…the warm thing going…”

Nodding, Kagome gently rolled onto her side and scooted her back against his torso. Like clockwork, he assumed their former position and sighed contentedly.

“You…” she belatedly started to address his comment but he was already off to the races.

“I could work on that though. You know, with the twins,” Inuyasha opined hopefully - like he was trying to convince her that he could be a good father and encourage her to say yes, “See…see if I could get better at the whole…whole warm thing. I bet I could get the hang of it in a month or two. I mean look at how fast I mastered Tessaiga. You wouldn’t have to worry about…about me scarring the kid.”

“That has never been a concern,” Kagome chided affectionately earning a frustrated grunt. Oh yeah, he was trying to get her to just make the decision or convince her to just agree with his decision. A decision he’d clearly already made.

“Inuyasha, I know you’d be a great daddy,” Kagome finally yawned - earning a faint blush, “But don’t push yourself just because you think I want this. I only want babies if you do too. I’m honestly okay either way.”

She felt him inhale deeply.

“I think…I think I’ll see if…if I can do the warm thing then we can decide,” Inuyasha hummed before adding hesistantly, “I think I can do it but I wanna be sure.”

“I…”

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I could do it,” Inuyasha continued to think out loud, “But I just want to be sure, ya know? And I want you to be sure I’m good for it.”

At this, Kagome laughed softly despite herself - the hand by her head sliding up to cup his. Curling her fingers between his fingers, she pressed her fingertips against his palm.

“I know you can do…”

“J-just think about it,” Inuyasha interrupted shakily as he gave her hand a light squeeze “A-and I’ll think about it. And we can…talk about it when we’re sure.”

The miko grinned and replied with a soft laugh, “Sure.”

“Will you be mad if I…I think about it and say no?” he asked hesitantly and Kagome shook her head - making some of the tension seep out of him. For a long time, he was quiet and Kagome was just about to pass out when she heard his voice - small and timid - whisper those three little words he didn’t say that often.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. You show me all the time,” she affirmed and with a timid half-smile, Inuyasha flexed his hand ever so.

“Just want to make sure you know…”

“I do.”

“And you still love me, right?”

“Always.”

“Okay. Just want to make sure…”

[greatwyrmgold]

Boku no Komyoshou Academia

(Roughly, “My academia communication disorder”. Japanese is not my strong suit.)

I saw this Tumblr post from 2019, assigning extremely detailed Quirks to several Komi-san characters. I dislike most of the Quirks, but I think that comes down to philosophical differences about what Quirks should be, in relation to the characters that hold them. So try not to view this as a correction so much as an alternate take.

Also, I’m not going to go into nearly as much detail as general-thinks did. I’m not planning a fic, I’m having fun imagining how one series’s characters could mesh with another series’s mechanics. (And I’m going to fit all of this into one post.)

I really, really like GT’s Quirk for Komi. Her Quirk should be as flashily powerful as Bakugo’s, putting her as firmly at the center of attention as she is in canon (just for a different combination of reasons). Telekinesis works pretty well for that (and also I really like that power). Worrying about it going out of control feels like a pretty natural extension of Komi’s anxieties about interacting with people into the superhero genre.

Not all Quirks have backlash, and the risk of going out of control seems like a sufficient Achilles heel to me. I’d probably frame losing control as a matter of focus rather than emotions, but that has pretty similar effects from a narrative perspective.

Telepath Tadano? Good start. But GT takes that in a weird direction. Tadano’s thing is that he can read the room well, and also that he’s a boringly nice kind of guy. I could just say “he reads minds” and leave it at that, but that would be boring!

Instead, let’s refocus around the “awareness” thing. On one hand, Tadano’s Quirk makes him aware of things other than thoughts (like locked doors, traps, or broken machines). On the other hand, it only helps with things in his immediate situation; it can tell him if opening the door will trigger a bomb, but not what’s on the other side.

Also, this means that Tadano can only read certain kinds of thoughts—specifically, the ones that might get put into action. This is more than enough for dealing with supervillains, and he backs his power up with his mundane cold-reading, but this drawback allows Tadano to remain oblivious to girls with crushes on them, as long as they are too anxious to act on them.

Overuse of his Quirk makes it harder and harder for Tadano to think about anything outside his current situation. For instance, this makes it hard for him to create, remember, or follow long-term plans. (Think Denki’s brain-frying, except more specific, more gradual, and also he starts with higher base stats.)

I have no idea why the hell GT decided to focus on Najimi’s genderfuck expression over their everyone’s-childhood-friendliness, or why they decided that a hormone-based Quirk was the best way to do that, but they did all of that and I won’t do any of it. Najimi can just be genderfluid or whatever without it needing to be a superpower, dammit.

Anyways, the first thing that comes to mind is that canon!Najimi already demonstrates several low-level superpowers in canon, such as the ability to maintain several conversations at once and somehow having made roughly a thousand friends per day.

But there’s a relatively simple superpower that would make this logistically less ridiculous: Duplication. This Najimi can make more Najimis; pretty simple. Also, they can duplicate just part of their body—for instance, having three upper bodies on the same hips to let them look and talk in three directions. To state the obvious, these duplicates obviously also duplicate their clothes and such.

This has two downsides. First, Najimi has to control all of their bodies with just one mind. They can coordinate ~5 bodies better than you’d expect, especially if they’re all in one place, but by the time they have a dozen running around they’re visibly clumsier, and around 25 they stop being able to really do anything except swarm in a general direction.

The second downside is energy. All of Najimi’s copies draw on the same “pool” of energy. If they spend all day split across four bodies, they need to eat four times as much food. This affects devices that Najimi duplicates, too—if all four of them are texting, their phones run out of charge four times faster (though they would also charge four times faster if all four were plugged in).

I’m not sure how this would apply to fatigue. Mental exhaustion is easy—Najimi only has one mind—but what about physical? If all four Najimis run a mile and then recombine, does Najimi need to rest four times as long? Probably not, given how energetic Najimi is...unless they leave a couple bodies at home napping and that’s where their energy comes from?

This could have some impact on combat—like, maybe Najimi’s energy limits how long they can fight with a whole bunch of bodies at some critical juncture—but it’s mostly comedic in purpose. You know, Najimi swiping Tadano’s food and claiming they need it to power their Quirk, or spending a ridiculous sum on take-out, or just justifying how they can eat lunch five times with five different people.

Weirdly omitted by GT is Manbagi, the series tritagonist starting some time in its second school year. Why GT included Sasaki Ayami and Katou Mikuni but left out Manbagi Rumiko is beyond me.

Anyways. Manbagi is pretty genki, though obviously not to Najimi’s chaotic levels. She’s also insecure, and specifically sees herself as inferior to Komi once the love triangle rears its less-ugly-than-expected head. So I’m imagining a literally flashy, light-based power, one that’s comparable to Komi’s and seems significantly worse.

Manbagi’s Quirk creates glowing hands that can pick things up. Obviously, this is comparable to Komi’s ability to pick things up with her telekinesis, but it seems inferior because the hands are weaker than Komi’s telekinesis. They’re only as strong as Manbagi’s own arms, after all.

But she can create a lot more than two, and coordinate them pretty well—not as well as Worm’s Skitter, but far better than Najimi controls their duplicates. It also doesn’t risk going out of control if she loses focus, which is obviously an asset in combat situations. Finally, they can do other things hands do, like sign language or punching, which Komi would struggle to emulate due to her control issues.

Anyways, while Manbagi can create more than two hands, they’re still connected to her arms in a sense. Lifting heavy weights with the hands strains her arms, doing overly complicated maneuvers causes cramps, crushing several of the hands at once might break bones, etc. These drawbacks can be alleviated through training, both by increasing Manbagi’s arms’ strength and endurance and by practice that weakens the harmful sympathetic link. (Somehow. Lots of Quirks get better with overuse with no explanation except a metaphor.)

I could go farther, but this post is already too long. I'll return later for some of the supporting cast. Until then, have some quick Quirk and hero names.

Komi:

Quirk: Psychokinesis

Codename: (none). There’d probably be a comedy beat where Komi either can’t think of a hero name or is too embarrassed to share it, which everyone else (except Tadano) takes as some profound statement about the nature of superhero identities.

Tadano:

Quirk: Room-Reader

Codename: Cognizant, a word meaning “aware,” which emphasizes his cognition. Sure, it’s just an English word, but it sounds better in English than “Cellophane” or “Grape Juice”. (I’d also put it above names like “Rule,” “Vine,” “Mines,” “Spiral,” and “Emily”.)

Najimi:

Quirk: Duplicate

Codename: Tomodachiiro (Tomodachi [“friend”] + “hero”). Najimi is…not subtle.

Manbagi:

Quirk: Helping Hand

Codename: Kanzeon, the Japanese name for a compassionate bodhisattva often depicted with many arms.

[kaistarus]

Crush At First Sight

Pairing: Nishinoya X Reader

Words: 2K

Summary: Attending the boy's volleyball finals was a no brainer-you'd take any opportunity to ditch school. You didn't think you'd find yourself getting so attached to one of the players...

Notes: I don't believe that someone could watch Noya play and not instantly fall in love, so I did him right

Masterlist

The only time you’d heard about the boy’s volleyball team was when someone called them ‘flightless crows’ in the hallway, which you assumed was a bad thing. However, when your friends mentioned they were skipping class to apparently watch them play in the Spring finals you were all for attending.

You’d take any opportunity to ditch school-even if it was to watch some guys lose a volleyball game.

The stadium was more filled than you were expecting. As you slid through the crowd to find three open seats you realized perhaps this was a bigger deal than you’d anticipated. Once seated, Michimiya passed everyone noise makers she’d picked up from some guys near the stadium’s entrance. You tested the bright orange cone-shaped objects by lightly tapping them together.

“So, they must have really improved this year, huh?” You said as your eyes wandered around the packed stands, apparently you weren’t the only ones skipping school today.

“They got a new coach,” Michimiya said, bouncing lightly from nerves and anticipation, “and a lot of talented first years.”

“Not hard on the eyes either,” Aihara nudged your shoulder and gestured towards the team congregated on the sidelines around their coaches. You nodded slowly as you scanned the group, lingering on the unfortunate boy who got stuck with the orange jersey.

At least he could pull it off.

The teams took the court, their anticipation radiating into the audience and extending even to you as you clutched your noise makers tightly. After the whistle was blown, and the first serve made, the game of Karasuno vs Shiratorizawa officially began.

A few minutes into the match you found your gaze latching onto the guy in the orange jersey. Shiratorizawa was terrifying, especially the big guy with his powerful spikes. You winced the first time you saw it because you couldn’t imagine receiving something like that without breaking your arms, but the libero guy was doing it like it was nothing. He had adapted to the playstyle and for every ball that made your stomach drop he would appear from seemingly nowhere and make a save.

There was something about the way he could go from intensely focused on the court to relaxed on the sidelines within moments that had you mesmerized, as well. You couldn’t help the weird fullness in your chest as he guzzled down water and smiled goofily to some of his teammates after their first set as if the pressure wasn’t weighing on him.

“What are you so focused on?” Michimiya asked while bopping you on the head with her cone.

“Nothing,” you said as the boys began to take the court again, preparing for the next serve. “Hey, what was number four’s name?”

Aihara’s brow quirked. “Nishinoya, why?”

“I’m just wondering...” You said, subconsciously smiling when he slid and barely saved the ball with one hand. “He’s just pretty good is all.”

“Daichi said he’s their ‘Guardian Deity’,” Michimiya wiggled her eyebrows at you.

“Boys are so dramatic.” Aihara scoffed.

You couldn’t argue that one.

As the sets continued you found yourself growing increasingly attached to Nishinoya: heart dropping if he missed a ball, swelling with pride anytime he made a play, and you’d even find your cheeks warming whenever you caught sight of him smiling to himself or a teammate. It was becoming embarrassing, truthfully, considering you’d never even talked to him.

“Alright, at least pretend you’re not obsessively staring at him.” Aihara nudged you playfully as the fourth set wrapped up and the boys were switching sides on the court.

“I’m not.”

Michimiya giggled, bopping you on the nose. “You geek out every time he touches the ball. It’s not hard to notice.”

“You’re one to talk. As if you haven’t been fangirling over Daichi.” Aihara leaned back, sighing dramatically. “I’m trapped between a pair of lovesick fools.”

“I don’t even know the guy,” you felt your cheeks warming. “Even if I did he probably wouldn’t be interested in--”

“Have you ever met Nishinoya before?” Aihara interrupted you. “Like, at school or in any context? Heard about him or talked to him… anything?”

You shook your head and they both started laughing lightly before Michimiya put a hand on your shoulder. “Trust me, you’ll be fine.”

You tilted your head in confusion, but before you could form a retort the ref’s whistle signaled the start of the final set. Your grip on the noise makers were tight as both sides fought strongly, neither willing to lose a single point and give up their chance for nationals. It felt surreal when Karasuno pulled that final point. Everyone erupted into cheers as the three of you held onto each other, jumping and shouting, unable to contain your excitement while celebrating the boy’s well earned victory. Boys who were currently dogpiled in the center of the court while the third years had tears streaming down their faces in disbelief.

It was an honor to be a part of and you couldn’t have been prouder to have them representing your school. When they lined up in front of you and bowed to thank you all for your attendance you clutched your hands against your chests. They really earned the win.

You were pulled out of your randomly emotional train of thought by Aihara’s grip tugging you behind her as they shuffled out of the stands.

“Where are we going?” You asked when they left the gym opposite the stadium’s exit.

“We’re going to congratulate the guys!” Michimiya sent a smile over her shoulder and your heart accelerated to an unhealthy pace.

“I don’t know if I’m mentally prepared for that scenario,” you pointed toward the opposite end of the hall. “Maybe I should just meet you guys outside and-”

“Oh no you don’t,” Aihara began pushing you forward by your shoulders and you started to whine in protest. “You are strong and fearless and no boy shall knock you down.”

Michimiya giggled ahead of you where she remained completely useless in your time of need. You let Aihara guide you through groups of people finding their way toward the exit until you all spotted the boy’s team in their telling Karasuno volleyball club jackets.

You did a quick scan of everyone, but didn’t see the spiked hair you’d been observing for so long. You weren’t sure if it was relief or disappointment you felt.

“There he is,” Aihara gave you a squeeze, pointing near the far wall where Nishinoya was digging through his duffel bag on the ground, eyebrows furrowed and tongue stuck out adorably in concentration. Your heart started pounding at the sight of him so close. The bizarre realization that he was in fact a real person finally hit which made your palms sweaty.

“As it turns out. I have decided to denounce myself from boys and am going to live a life of celibacy.” You nodded confidently, trying to make a u-turn, but Aihara annoyingly spun you around.

“Shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “Just talk to him. I promise it will work out.” She patted your shoulder. “Trust me.”

You glared at her, mumbling insults under your breath as you slowly walked over to where Nishinoya continued to dig through his mess of a bag. You took a deep breath and decided your best move was to just deep dive straight into your doom. What could possibly go wrong?

“Uh, Nishinoya, right?”

He glanced at you briefly, looking you up and down before continuing to dig through his bag.“Yep, do need you help finding someone?” He triumphantly pulled out some IcyHot before pointing toward where the rest of his team lounged. “Most of the guys are over there.”

“I was actually hoping to talk to you.” You winced as you noticed the bruises that decorated his arms when he started to peel off his jacket.

“Why? Is something wrong? Do you have a message for me or something?”

“No… I just wanted to tell you how amazing I thought you were today.” You quickly glanced away in embarrassment when he finally looked up at you with wide-eyes. You dug your toe into the ground as you urged yourself to continue, “I was watching you and just thought you were really cool and--”

“Sorry,” he chuckled and put a hand up to stop you. “I was actually wearing the orange jersey. Number four.” He pointed to the others in the center of the hall again. “The guy you're looking for is probably over there.”

You blinked. “Nishinoya. Orange jersey. Number four. Libero. Guardian Deity or whatever.” Your embarrassment was dissolving into frustration. “Is that you?”

“Yeah?”

“Then I’m looking for you.”

He stared at his bag as his brain tried to process the situation you’d presented to him. Suddenly, his gaze whipped up at you. “Holy shit,” he pointed his finger at himself. “You’re talking to me.”

“Have been.”

He tensed and locked his eyes on the IcyHot he was currently trying to rub on his back. He quickly threw it near his bag and you felt another fond smile growing on your face. “I’m Nishinoya,” he said, extending his hand toward you before shoving it down to his side. “Wait, you know that. Shit, were you complimenting me? Did you just call me cool?”

“I did do that, yeah.”

His face turned a bright shade of red, “but you can’t do that it goes against all the rules.”

“What are you-”

“Look,” He pointed his finger between the two of you causing you to raise a brow. “I’m supposed to flirt with and compliment you, then you say something mean that hurts my feelings.” He smacked his shoes for finality. “It’s a strict formula.”

“What’s the formula for when I flirt with you then?” You asked, a sly smirk spreading across your lips. His shoulders went up to his ears and he stared at his hands longer than you felt necessary for such a simple question.

He looked up at you defeated. “I don’t know I’m bad at math.”

You covered your mouth to hold back the laugh trying to force its way out. He was just so cute though. “Well, so am I, but mutual flirting seems like a good solution. If you were an interested party that is.”

“I’m a very interested party…” He murmured under his breath while narrowing his eyes at you. “Did Tanaka put you up to this?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

He furrowed his brow in thought before pulling a flip phone out from his duffel and holding it out to you, “can I have your number?”

Your cheeks dusted pink as you created your contact under Nishinoya’s intense gaze. He hurriedly checked it’s existence when you returned the phone to him, staring at it skeptically while he cradled the phone in his hands.

“I promise it’s mine.” You reassured him and he embarrassingly snapped the phone closed.

“Okay,” he mumbled.

“(Y/N)!” Aihara yelled from where the rest of Karasuno’s team was grouped and not so subtly staring at you both. Your face slowly blossomed red and in your peripheral you saw Nishinoya flip off the ones waving at him. “We’re heading out. Are you done or do you need more time with your-”

“I’ll be right there.” You interrupted, glancing back to Nishinoya. “I’ll, uh, talk to you soon?”

He shot you a double thumbs up and you couldn’t stop from snorting at how adorable that was, especially when he started at them in shame. You waved a good-bye and narrowly dodged the small group already sprinting to Nishinoya while you weren’t even a few steps away.

Aihara wrapped an arm around your shoulder as your eyes lingered on boys rubbing Nishinoya’s head, bouncing around excitedly, or giving him suggestive looks. You felt your stomach rolling from embarrassment at all the attention he was receiving from such a small interaction.

“Ignore them. They’re just stupid boys.”

“I guess…”

“But one of them’s your stupid boy.” Michimiya said, poking you in the stomach. You swatted her hands away, and chewed your lip to keep down a smile when your phone vibrated. The ‘hello :)’ from an unknown number made your heart flutter.

Yeah, one of them was your stupid boy.

[subbing-for-clones]

The Alpha and The Omega Part 1

Alpha!Maul x Omega!Reader     

Word Count: 4.5k

Summary: A Jedi Padawan prepares for her trials to become a knight but learns something new about herself that leads to her having to leave the order. With a fear of the large galaxy and a new, unexpected companion she has to learn to live with herself and how to survive an unforgiving environment.

WARNINGS: fear, going into heat (no sex), nudity. A/B/O dynamics

A/N: Maul is not actually in this chapter. He shows up in the next just so everyone is aware. This chapter establishes what my version of an alpha and omega are. No y/n

NEXT         MASTERLIST

       You had never been so hungry in your life. Master Plo Koon, Master Qui Gon Jinn and your fellow padawan Obi Wan all watched you in various levels of amazement and bewilderment as you worked on your third helping of whatever kind of stew the cafeteria had prepared. Your master however, was chuckling under his de-oxygenator.

“Are you alright little one?” Qui Gon asked with a brow quirked. If you paid attention, you’d have guessed he was more impressed than his horrified padawan at the immense amount of food you were consuming. You couldn’t pause between each spoonful long enough to answer him so your master spoke.

“For the last few days, she’s been utterly insatiable.”

“Are you quite sure you don’t have a parasite or something?” Obi Wan asked with a concerned frown. Your only response was shooting him a glaring look before continuing to eat ravenously. Clearing your bowl, you stood and went to drop off your empty dish with the rest of the dirty dishes followed by your friend.

“I am starting to become concerned for my padawan. At first I assumed that the rise in her nerves were caused by her upcoming trials for her knighthood but I’m not so sure.”

“What else is going on with her?” Qui Gon eyed you as you left the cafeteria followed by Obi Wan, no doubt to continue your studies.

“She’s always struggled with controlling some of her stronger emotions but she has made immense improvements over the years under my tutelage. However, the last few days it almost seems like she’s reverted back. She’s not outward with them in the least but I can sense them through our bond. She’s incredibly quick to anger and sadness specifically.”

Qui Gon furrowed his brows and sat pensively for a moment before asking, “you don’t think she could be pregnant, do you?”

“No, that’s not an option. She hasn’t left the temple in months except for her training mission on Hoth and it was just the two of us. Over the last few months, she has been fervently preparing for her trials bouncing back and forth between the archives, the meditation gardens and sparing with various willing masters. Even if she did find the time, with how emotional she’s been I would’ve sensed something but I don’t think she even has any idea what’s going on.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I’ve always liked her and appreciated her friendship with my padawan. Have the healers take a look at her if you can convince her to let them.”

“Yes, that might be a good idea.”

      You had in fact spent the remainder of the evening in the archives with your long-time friend Obi Wan attempting to study while dodging his various inquiries to your condition. At the end of the night, you fought the urge to slam the doors behind you while you urged him for the hundredth time that you were fine. Walking back to your sparse room in the living quarters you realized that you were in fact not fine. You had never felt anything but safe living here at the temple, surrounded by your peers and masters. Now though, a sense of dread formed in the pit of your stomach. You hadn’t the slightest clue as to why. Yes, your trials were approaching in the following months but you felt completely prepared for them.

    Your skin felt hot under your robes and the second you entered your private quarters you stripped out of them, hopping through a quick cold shower. It only granted you a temporary relief and by the time you left the ‘fresher you were burning up and feeling way too exposed, even within the confines of your small room. You watched your hands pull the mattress off of its rails and onto the floor. Gathering up all of your spare blankets and robes you had, you bunched up a makeshift perimeter along the edges before climbing into the center and curling up, not bothering to dress before-hand.

    Rest did not come to you that night. You woke frequently in cold shakes and waves of fear despite your best efforts to push them away, panic always on the edges of your mind and intense cramping in your abdomen.

      The following morning when you had not come down for your first meal Master Plo reached out to you through the force, when he sensed your terror, he practically ran back to the living quarters, banging on your door. When you only answered with chocked whimpers, he unlocked the door with the force and drew his lightsaber. His initial worry was sated momentarily finding that you were alone but was quickly replaced when he saw the state you were it.

    You lay in the center of your clumsily made ‘nest’ naked and covered in a thin sheet of sweat shivering violently. The only sounds that left you were terrified, incoherent mumbles, eyes widened in alarm.

“M- master… help me. I -… I don’t know what.. what’s happening,” you sobbed.

Plo removed his large brown cloak and quickly covered you with it. When you were properly concealed, he lifted you in his arms and rushed to the healers. Utterly confused by your state.

       Hours of examinations and blood tests did nothing to sate your unease but did well to expand it. You had begged your master to stay by your side, clutching onto the one person you felt remotely safe around. He only left when one of the healers came to your bedside and beckoned him away with a worried look in her eye. It took several attempts to assure you that he would be right back, utter panic setting in once again once he left but you could feel the waves of tranquility he sent you through the force.

“What do her blood reports show?” he asked with his arms crossed.

“Well master that’s where it gets kind of tricky. She seems to be exhibiting symptoms of a heat cycle.”

“But, humans don’t go through heat cycles. Wait, do they?” Plo asked.

“No, they don’t. I tested her for exposure to various strains of the sex pollen but they all came up negative. To ease her pain, I gave her a dose of a common suppressant that some of our resident Jedi use to help their own cycles but it didn’t take. That led me to perform a genome test.”

“And did you find anything?”

“Yes, she has the Omega gene.”

“Oh… Oh. Well, that is, unfortunate...”

“She’s terrified and feeling exposed. I wanted to tell you first so you could decide if she should hear it from you or me. She seems to feel safest with you.”

Plo thought for a moment, “I think I should tell her.”

 “What the fuck is an Omega gene?!” you were still shaking, trying to fight off the arousal that had taken root in your belly that swirled with your fright.

“It is an uncommon genome; its sole purpose is to ensure survival of a species. Most commonly men develop the Alpha and women the Omega although there are records of it being the other way around. Almost every species in the galaxy has at least a few Alphas and Omegas.”

“And the suppressants didn’t work because..?”

“Because it is stronger than a common heat cycle. It is a mutation that developed not just to ensure frequent breeding but survival of a species on a grand scale.”

You broke out into uncontrollable sobs; when your master tried to soothe you with a touch to your shoulder you jumped and growled at him, surprising you both before falling back into your distress.

      Over the following weeks you could feel the change in your peers’ attitude towards you. They would snicker if you passed by and taunt you silently behind your back. You could feel the unease the masters felt when you came into close proximity. Even Master Qui Gon was hesitant around you. You did however still have Obi Wan. Still the loyal friend he had always been.

    It took more searching than you thought but with his help you were able to find information cataloged by only one author.

“Did you really build a nest?” he asked, void of any judgement, looking over your shoulder at the writings.

“Yes, I did,” you said without taking your eyes off of the tome. “It says here that its genetic and pops up every few generations…”

“Your birth mother probably had no idea.”

“No, I don’t suppose she did. It says here I have scent glands? On my neck, my wrists, between my breasts and on my hips..” Obi wan leaned in and gave you an undignified sniff, you smacked him away.

“I can’t smell anything, just that minty shampoo you like so much.”

“That’s because you’re not an Alpha bantha brains,” you flustered.

“You don’t need to be rude about it,” he chuckled, “I’m just trying to lighten the mood here. You’ve been so sad since you found out. What, your heat will come once every few months right? It can’t be that bad.”

“It really is terrible; you have no idea. It’s not even the heat that I’m worried about.”

“Well, what has you so worked up then?”

“It says here that being an Omega is dangerous, the Alphas are often times violent and that they can smell me long before they see me… I’m safe here at the temple but what if they kick me out of the Order?”

“You’re not going to be kicked out.”

“I very well could be!” you pushed yourself out from behind the desk and huffed, “being a Jedi means no attachments, be one with the force, calm and collected, rational and compassionate. I am none of those things when the heat comes and no suppressants can stop it. What if it’s enough to pull me to the dark side? What if the council decides I am too big of a risk to everyone here to keep me around? Needs of the many always outweigh the needs of the few.”

      Sure enough, it was less than a week before the council called you to stand before them. The room was silent, the faces that painted the members was grave. You could tell that whatever decision they came to was a long argued one. It was the look on your Master’s face that made a sadness ring through your heart.

“Do you know why we called you here?” Master Windu asked.

You inhaled deeply and sighed, “I think I have an idea..”

“Please understand padawan that if we had known you were an Omega, we wouldn’t have recruited you to the Order. We simply can’t have an Omega or an Alpha within our ranks.”

“I…I think I understand Master.”

“Understand how you feel, we do.” The Grandmaster said with a grave tone and a nod.

“Forgive me Master but, no, you don’t. With reason or not, I have had my birth family cast me out into your care because I was force sensitive and now, my second family does the same because of a gene I carry.” Your eyes flashed angrily. Abandoned again because of what you were. “I will gather my things and be gone before nightfall,” you turned on your heel and strode out of the council chambers, leaving the heavy sighs behind you as you fought tears.

    When you finally reached your quarters the dam broke. Fat tears and wailing sobs poured out of you while your heart bled. Fear, pain, self-disgust all swirling in your mind. You had no idea what you were going to do, where you were going to go. You barely heard the knock against your door while you tried to wipe the salty wetness from your eyes. When you composed yourself as much as you could you opened the door to your Master and Obi Wan, both looking solemn.

“May we come it?” your master asked. Standing aside you allowed them entrance. “I voted no. I don’t think the council is making the right choice in this matter.”

“Thank you Master but the result is the same, with all due respect,” you pushed past him and starting shoving your sparse belongings into a travel bag pausing only when your friend stood in your way.

“I-I’m going to miss you..” he looked down at his feet.

“Oh Obi,” fresh tears wet your lashes. “I’m going to miss you to,” you pulled him into a tight hug. “I know you still have a few more years before your trials but; you’re going to make a wonderful knight.” His only response was to hug you tighter.

“The council has allocated a small fund for you young one. Because of the nature of your departure and the fact that you never broke the code or did anything wrong…” Master Plo held out a large purse filled with credits, “I hope it’s enough to get you settled somewhere until you can find something to do..” you took the purse and wrapped your arms around your Master’s waist.

    Thanking him silently for everything. For raising you, teaching you everything you knew and again for advocating for you. You gathered your one personal item aside from your clothes, a holo-pic Obi Wan had taken of you and your Master standing on a cliff overlooking the water on Naboo. At the time he said he took it because you looked like a knight with your straight back and hands clasped behind your back, mirroring Plo perfectly. You thought him silly at the time but now; you felt grateful.

      Months later you found yourself waitressing in a dirty little cantina on one of the lower levels of the city. The credits given to you were enough to pay for a dingy little studio apartment and the owner of the cantina owed Qui Gon a favor for some reason. Giving you a job made them even. You were drifting through your new life. Every night you would show up in your too tight, too short uniform and serve various drunkards and bounty hunters. Every morning you would stumble your way back to your new home utterly exhausted. When your heat hit your boss was understanding enough to give you time off so you could cry and feel the terrible pain and loneliness in peace.

    A few days after your last heat, the third one you had ever experienced; you were back to work. It was a pretty slow night. The atmosphere was surprisingly calm in the run-down little bar. You heard the door creak open while you were in the kitchen grabbing an order for a young starry eyed Rodian obviously new to the city. You looked around the kitchen smelling something strange, something incredibly strong, smokey and musky. It only got stronger when you dropped off the plate. Your eyes met the new customer’s, a lone Duro looked up at you from under the lip of a worn wide brimmed hat. A smile grew across his face as you approached cautiously.

“Hey there little lady. Where’s your Alpha?”

    A serious trepidation squeezed your insides as you realized exactly what it was you were smelling. The man in front of you was an Alpha. There was no doubt about it, if he could smell you, it was true. Your feet moved faster than your brain and carried you out of the bar, ignoring your boss’s bellowing. You pounded into the duracrete until you reached your little room. Opening the door as quickly as you could with trembling fingers you slunk into a shadowy corner. Tears pricked in the corners of your eyes as the cool night breeze drifted through the window.

    Window. As soon as you thought the thought his scent flowed through it, he followed right behind, slinging his lithe body through the opening. Standing silhouetted in the flickering streetlights, you backed up until you hit the door. His long leather trench coat fluttered around his calves. You could hardly process how he lifted his palms up to you and tried to calm you down.

“What in the seven hells’ the matter with you ‘mega?” you lifted your hand and force pulled your light saber into your grasp and ignited the blue blade.

“Whoa whoa whoa there little lady. Calm down I’m not gonna hurt you.. been a while since I seen another one a us. Outside Corellia at least.” His voice was smooth with a rasp to it, his eyes glowed bright red in the low lighting, your saber casting a blue glow over the room.

“Never seen a Jedi ‘mega before,” he started.

“I’m no longer a Jedi,” you spat. It was the first thing you could say to the Alpha before you.

“You gotta calm down girl. I told you I’m not gonna hurt you,” he was inching closer to you.

“What do you want with me?” you tightened your grip and clenched your teeth, causing him to halt again on the stained floor.

“Where’s your Alpha? I can’t smell him.”

“You’re the first one I’ve met.”

“Listen I wanna help. Obviously if you’re here the Jedi gave you the boot. I’m gonna go out on a limb here, they found out when the suppressors didn work on ya.”

You sheathed your blade and lowered your head in sorrow.

“How long you been on your own?”

“A few months,” you looked up and wished you were back in the temple. You missed the gardens, you missed the archives, you missed your friend.. The Duro eyed you carefully like he could read your history just from your face before he scrunched his eyes up in confusion.

“Diddn they even tell you shit or did they just give you a pat and ‘good luck’?”

Your lack of a response was response enough; he sighed and muttered curses under his breath.

“Listen, most of us Alphas aren’t dangerous. We’re leaders, protectors. Omegas aren’t weak, you’re our second in command so to speak.” Your eyes widened at him. “I wanna help you.. I kinda feel like I have to. My mate would’ve if she was still around…” his eyes dimmed, “some of the Alphas can be shitty but it’s the others you gotta worry about. Slavers like buying your kind up and sellin em to the highest bidder. Sometimes they got a paid Alpha to sniff you out, some of em got hounds that can pick out your scent. If you stay here, you’re sittin pretty an ripe for their pickin.”

“What happened to your Omega?” your voice was quiet and cautious. You didn’t know if you could trust him or not but if he found you, others would be able to soon too.

“Trandoshans… I was off on a hunt; left her at home. Thought it was too dangerous for her to come with… I tried to find her, looked everywhere, called in every favor, went broke on bribes… never found her.”

Some primal, instinctual part of your heart broke for him. You had no idea what it was like to have a mate but you thought you’d rather die than lose yours and the look on his face confirmed that, he would too.

“Look, take it or not but this is me reaching my hand out. Tryin to make sure that what happened to her, doesn’t happen to you. Bounty huntings lucrative if you nab the right contracts. I can get you set up… the moving around ‘s safer than sitting still.”

    You thought for a few minutes, pondering the information this man dumped on you all at once. Your Jedi brain told you not to trust him; that this guy was bad news, but you weren’t a Jedi anymore. They were the reason you were sitting here trying to decide if you could trust him or not. So, you listened to your Omega gut and it told you to go with him; and that’s what you did.

      You spent a year with Cad Bane and if you were being honest, it was the best year of your life. He introduced you to the Bounty Hunters Guild by the name ‘Mega. Told you if they found out you were a former Jedi you wouldn’t get contracts so you went with it. There was even a whole house of the guild that was dedicated to Alphas and Omegas a secret little society that you had been welcomed into. He taught you how to use a blaster, damn well too. Your light saber was a hidden last resort to use only if you were about to be killed and you left no survivors. The two of you galivanted across the galaxy bringing in dangerous, high paying bounties.

    He taught you about the sub culture of the Alphas and the Omegas and helped explain some of the odd tendencies you showed but didn’t understand. He was respectful during your heat and let you wait it out locked in the cabin while he slept in the cockpit. Occasionally you’d ask him to put a hand on the back of your neck to cool you down. His cold-blooded hands were the perfect ice pack for your fevered skin.

    Not once did he ever try to scent you. To say he was friendly though would’ve been a lie. You had a companionable silence most of the time. You could count the times you made him smile on one hand. Most of which were when you got extra rough with a difficult quarry. The only other time was when some guy tried to hit on you in a cantina while you and Bane celebrated the largest reward you had ever gotten. You pressed the barrel of your blaster into his balls so hard, without even looking at him, he cried. Life was… good. Life was actually good. After the costs of resupply and fuel he gave you half of whatever was left over.

    That’s how you got to where you were now. On Corellia in a ship yard looking to buy your own transport. Bane had introduced you to the Guild Master on this planet, long having gained membership with him as a sponsor and you got yourself a few of your own pucks. He stood beside you now as you tossed the credits to the seller and loaded up your new; well new to you, ship.

“Better than my first ship that’s for damn sure,” Bane said as he walked around it. It wasn’t large, it wasn’t small either, but it had a kitchenette, a cabin and a carbon-freezing chamber in the small cargo bay below deck. “That freezers gonna let you pick up a few bounties at a time,” he noted, leaning against the doorframe of the cabin, watching you put away your clothes and setting up the holo-pic of you and Plo by the large bed.    

“That’s the plan. Move around as much as possible. Get rich on these dumbasses,” you moved to toss the pucks into your bag.

“Listen ‘Meg,” he straightened up, clenched his jaw and looked at the floor, “it was shitty goin for me for a long time. It’s gonna get shitty again and stay that way for the rest of my life but; well, you made it less shitty,” he was visibly uncomfortable.

“Don’t go getting all warm blooded on me now Bane,” you shot him a sad smile. You had to move on. He wasn’t your Alpha and you weren’t his Omega. You didn’t really think you would find a mate of your own but you could feel it through the force; as much as you relieved some of his stress, you made him miss his mate.

“Don’t get your hopes up sweetheart, I like you but not that much,” he smirked, “you got my commlink channel set up in there right?” his thumb pointed to the cockpit.

“Yeah I got it.”

“Don’t hesitate if you get in over your head kid. I mean it ‘Meg, don’t be so proud you go and get yourself killed.”

“I won’t, I promise Bane.”

“Good,” he walked over to you and for a second you thought he was actually going to hug you; what he did was a bigger shock. He took his hat off and placed it on your head. Your eyes widened to saucers and you looked at him almost confused. A grin cracked your lips when he pulled a new, bigger one out of no where and shrugged his shoulders.

“I like this one better anyway,” he turned to leave the hull but not before rasping out a “see you around ‘Meg, give em all seven hells out there,” over his shoulder.

You made your way to the cockpit, pulling Bane’s hat down tighter on your head and running your finger across the brim; watching him leave the shipyard through the view port with one last swish of his coat. You were sad to watch that gun slinging bastard go but thanked the maker he found you, thanked the maker that you followed him that night.

    You ran through your preflight checklist and started her up ‘The Wolf.’ You liked the way it sounded. Pulling up into the atmosphere and punching in the coordinates for Lothal, the highest priced bounty in your current collection. You pulled back the lever, shooting you into hyperspace. You made your way back to your cabin and picked up the holo-pic of you and your master. You wondered what he was doing right now. If he had taken in a new padawan. You hoped he had; he was a wonderful master; the best you could’ve asked for. You wondered if he thought about you as much as you thought about him. You smiled, probably. He always had trouble not forming attachments. You set the picture back down and pulled another one out of your bag. You had tried to keep it a secret from Bane but you were sure he knew about it.

    It was from the night you almost took off the nuts of the guy who tried flirting with you. You had bought a round for everyone in the small cantina out of your own pocket, you were so excited about taking down the biggest quarry the two of you had seen to date. Several beings of different species all raised a glass of various liquors in your honor while Bane faced the bar not looking at you, the smallest smirk on his face below the rim of the hat you were wearing now. The smile you had on in this picture might be the biggest you’ve ever made. You set it down next to the one of you and Plo and compared the two, hardly believing you were the same person. You weren’t, but they were both you.

    You kicked your boots off and plopped down on the bed, arms crossed behind your head and the hat tilted over your eyes. This was it; this was living.

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 12

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 12

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2369

Summary: Finally starting to talk about the dreams encourages Sam to start trusting himself. 

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n

           In an ideal world, you would’ve been patient enough to let Sam bring it up next. But adding the layer of possibility of seeing Dean, really Dean, again, opening some channel to talk to him in your dreams, was sending you into a spiral that ironically was preventing you from sleeping.

           You lasted a few weeks before waking up on a morning of early spring melt and waiting for Sam at the breakfast bar with your now-prized notebook. He came out of the bedroom as you were cutting a grapefruit for him and you passed over a cup of coffee.

           “You seem, uh, chipper.” He was still blinking slowly like he always did for the first few minutes after waking up, fingers wrapping nearly all the way around the ceramic and bypassing the handle.

           Waiting until he sat down on one of the stools and smiling at how short it looked compared to his legs, you put a bowl of yogurt and granola in front of him next to the fruit. Cheap bribery, but you were willing to try anything you had. “I’m hoping maybe we can, um, try to figure this out. I thought if we could make kind of a timeline then maybe we could—” you stammered, having run through this script in your head and still feeling your heart ram against your ribs as you watched for Sam’s reaction. He set the mug down and rubbed his face before resting his head in his hands.

           “Okay.”

           “Okay?”

           “I mean, yeah. I’ve been—I don’t know, I’ve just—”

           “Sam, you don’t have to explain anything.”

           His mouth tightened into a firm line and you could see his jaw flex before he picked up a spoon and started stirring the granola into his yogurt. “Where do you want to start?”

           You’d had a small variety of dreams where Dean narrowly avoided death, but you and Sam decided the best place to start would be the dreams that were explicitly good. That left:

           Sam hadn’t immediately offered what his dreams with Dean were about, and when you sensed that moment of hesitation you didn’t push. That privacy was the least you could give him, already feeling guilty at prying into his thoughts as much as you were.

           “Well, what about those days? Did anything different happen on the days you had those dreams?” you asked, trying to change tack.

           He raised his eyebrows and considered it for a minute. “The first time was obviously the, uh, the cupcakes.”

           Remembering it made you smile a little to yourself and you wrote it down in the notebook. “And the next?”

           “Uh, that Thursday.”

           “Right, but what happened that day?”

           Sam bit the inside of his lip. “Nothing, really.”

           “Okay, well work sucked, that’s for sure. Maybe that was it, that you were more tired? Remember I fell asleep on the couch while you were in the shower?”

           “If you weren’t covered in grenadine I would’ve left you there.”

           “Can you imagine how sticky and gross I would’ve been in the morning? So work was shitty, I fell asleep on the couch, what else—”

           “You folded my laundry for me.”

           “What?”

           He cleared his throat and sat up straighter. “You, uh, you folded my laundry for me.”

           “I always fold laundry.”

           “No—not the laundry, my laundry.  I forgot a bunch of my stuff in the dryer and you folded it while I was in the shower.”

           “I really doubt me folding th—”

           “We talked about it in the dream, it was the laundry.” Before you could pry, he took a big gulp of coffee. “So where does that put us?”

           “Wait, I’m still on the laundry.”

           “It was…I don’t know, it was just really nice. It felt like a really nice, normal thing. And it’s not—I mean, who cares, it was just laundry, about the lowest stakes favor there’s ever been in our lives, but it kind of hit me how far we’d come and it made me realize I’d fold your laundry too, you know? The big stuff we’ve already proven, right? But it’s little stuff like folding the laundry, that day-in, day-out, I’m-thinking-about-you—”

           “Gummy worms,” you murmured.

           “What?”

           “I feel like that when you buy me gummy worms. Maybe you’re just doing that because Dean did or whatever, but there’s something about those extra things that add up. I get it.”

           “I—yeah.” Sam gulped.

           You started writing.

           Spinning the notebook back toward him, you let Sam read and didn’t say anything for a long minute past when he was sure to have finished, even getting up to refill your coffee cups while he thought. You came back to the counter and wrapped your fingers around the warm mug, unwilling to be the first one to speak.

           Sam’s jaw tightened around nothing and he nodded slightly without looking up, vision trained on a blank spot of counter next to his bowl. When he finally tilted and met your eyes, his were so big and shiny, so Precious Moments that you almost would’ve laughed, almost would’ve smacked his shoulder and told him to stop manipulating you with those Victim’s Family Puppy Dog Eyes. But they were genuine and unmoving, electric with emotion in the morning light. You traced the angle of his jaw and slipped a fallen piece of hair behind his ear before steadying your palm on the back of his neck, hair warming your fingertips as you met his eyes, leaning an inch or two closer to Sam’s face and then he glanced down at your lips. He didn’t move at all as you slowly, carefully closed the distance between you until at the last second Sam wrapped his fingers around your wrist where it grazed his throat and turned into it, pressing his lips to the now-thrumming pulse there for an extended beat.

           He opened and closed his mouth to try to explain, but you kissed his forehead in apology before he could say anything.

           “I, um—thank you for going over these with me,” you whispered into his hairline, feeling his nod against you.  You broke away from him, taking his empty bowl to the sink for an excuse to do something with your hands. “I need new scrapers to take off the popcorn ceiling, is there anything else I should get at the hardware store?” You knew it would be hard to hear you over the running water to wash the dish, but you couldn’t risk your voice cracking if you spoke louder.

           Mercifully, he didn’t push. “Nothing I can think of, no.”

           You left a few minutes later while Sam was in the shower, careening way too fast around the curves in the rural highways just to feel the weight of the Impala strain to stay on track. There were so many things coming together, so many sweet and comfortable aspects to your life, but it was so frustrating to have the two you wanted most to be just barely out of reach; the ability to be truly happy with Sam or to see Dean in your dreams both obfuscated by the self-flagellating remnants of Sam’s unimaginable torture.

           And yet, impossible for you to be angry with Sam at all; it was yet another in a long stream of ways his life had been torn to shreds by external forces, yet another reminder of how unimaginably resilient he was to be standing at all. Screaming at the complete unfairness of it like a moody teenager in the privacy afforded by the car and the trees, you only had to wipe a few tears away in the parking lot before going into the hardware store.

           Diane was working and had some helpful tips for dealing with the ceilings, as well as a picture of her new grandchild to show you before you headed back to the cabin. You had to bump the front door open with your hip because of the heavy paper bag of supplies, and when Sam heard you he walked over from the couch with a few long strides, taking it out of your hands. His hair was still wet, dripping an uneven collar around his shirt.

           “Is this—uh, did you—do you only want this so we can see Dean again?”

           You weren’t expecting to get into it again, at least not right away, and had to take a deep breath to soothe your surprise at Sam’s nervous energy. He set the bag down a little roughly on the kitchen counter as you followed him inside.

            “Sam, of course not, Jesus. I mean, but I—but yeah, I want to see him again, don’t you?”

            “Of course I do.” He winced, pained even at the suggestion otherwise.

           “I’m sorry I misread the moment earlier. I’m—I, I love you Sam; those days were the only real happy ones I’ve had since Dean died, and if being together means we get to—” and you were cut off by Sam’s hands cupping your face as he kissed you, firm and urgent with tight closed lips like he was trying to seal himself to your skin.

           It was over as soon as it started, Sam holding your head as he pulled his own away and searching your eyes. “If it isn’t rea—” he stopped short, screwed his face together before continuing, consciously unclenched his jaw and smoothed the furrows of his eyebrows. “If we’re doing this, it has to be about us. I can’t—I just can’t build everything on some dreams.”

           You nodded, stunned.

           Sam kept looking between your eyes furiously like he was trying to communicate something you weren’t getting. You tried desperately to race through what it could be and came up short, your brain melting and swirling together inside your skull. It was impossible for you to tell whether he’d found what he wanted or not, but after a few brief seconds of shifting his center of gravity like he was getting ready to either be socked or start a sprint, his face tightened in frustration and he touched his forehead to yours. “Fuck, I’m—I’m not ready,” he growled, more to himself than anything as he shut his eyes hard. You waited for an explanation, your breath gone shallow and your cheeks fiery-hot under Sam’s hands.

           He brushed along your cheekbone with a callused thumb and lifted your chin with featherweight pressure, your lips not a half inch apart from each other. You inhaled the citrus off his breath and held perfectly still until Sam finally kissed you again. It was softer than moments before but just as serious, the emotional weight of his lips so much more than the tender movement of them against yours. As kisses went, it was one of the most innocent you’d had—even more than your first kiss ever, middle school boy you’d thought was cute at the roller rink whose braces had caught on your lips—but if this was what Sam could handle it was enough for you, would have to be enough for you. You kissed back only as his mirror and broke away when he did feeling dizzy with complicated restraint.

           “I’m almost there, I’m so sorry, I’m almost there,” he murmured, straight into the inches between you so you could let them soak in. “Please, I’m so sorry, I just—if it’s not real I can’t—”

           You wrapped your hands around his where they held your head. “I know. I know, Sam, I know.”

           Later you wouldn’t remember how you’d moved on to the rest of the day, rhythmically scraping popcorn texture off of drywall while listening to Bikini Kill. But it was a hug and a few tears in a chain of thousands between you, and that was part of it. Like Sam had said, those moments that meant so little on their own and added up over time. You both worked on different chunks of the ceiling and got through a good amount of it. The difference was remarkable, making the cabin look so much cleaner and more modern. After your shoulders got too sore to keep going, Sam threw together a bastardized puttanesca and you both tried really hard to lighten the mood over dinner, ending the evening feeling pretty close to normal.

           When you climbed into bed, Sam leaned over so that his hair fell in a curtain around your face. The closeness took your breath away, and you cursed your body for betraying you like this, unable to focus for the scent of familiar warmth coming off of him and hypnotic color shift of his eyes. For a fleeting second of panic you wondered if he would ever feel protective and safe again or if these shocks of heat—spurred on by what, two chaste kisses?—were all you’d ever feel around Sam again, if you’d be able to sleep knowing how close to tipping over that boundary you were.

           You could tell from the look in his eyes that he was going to apologize and stopped him by resting a finger on his mouth as he opened it to speak. He smiled against your hand, gentle and a little sad, before touching his lips to yours for the third time that day. It felt like some kind of healing burn; a cauterizing iron splitting you in half and reassuring you that scattered into pieces was the way you were supposed to be; giving you permission to crumble into dust, let yourself be swept away trusting that there was a plan for the place that every grain of yourself would land. There was no way to know precisely Sam’s intention, but if it was to send your mind unspooling like a cheap yo-yo about what that fourth, fifth, sixth kiss might feel like, he had succeeded.

           “Thank you,” he whispered, holding your gaze for a moment before turning off the light and fitting himself like a puzzle piece along the curve of your back.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 13

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[rudysrings]

TEACH ME

The lifeguard at the beach yesterday inspired me to write this...y’all tell me that’s 👆👆👆not JJ!!!!

Summary: The reader has to train a new lifeguard, a certain blonde who can’t seem to stop hitting on her.

Word count: 4.1k (Holy shit what did I do)

Warnings: Uh mentions of drowning, weed, fluff? Not much this is really just a sweet oneshot

Credit to @alexa-playafricabytoto for the killer idea...I don’t think I did it justice but here we go anyways 😂

DISCLAIMER: I don’t know shit about lifeguards and was too lazy to do research so this it’s extremely likely that this is HIGHLY inaccurate and I’m sorry about that but just go with it for fanfic purposes, eh?

“Hey, Y/N!” Mr. Rodriguez, your manager called out for you from his office in the beach’s visitor center. You had just clocked in, still in your jean shorts and tank. 

You quickly walked over, popping your head in the doorway of his office. Seated in front of him, you noticed, was a blond in a red snapback, a Kildare County Marina T-shirt on. “Yeah, boss?” You asked.

He gave you a rare, sweet smile, gesturing for you to sit down. 

Confused, you cautiously walked over, sliding into the empty chair beside the blonde boy. You felt him glance at you but you looked straight at your manager.

“So Kyle’s out on some family emergency this week…” Your manager started.

You scoffed inwardly but didn’t say anything out loud for the sake of being professional. Kyle’s family emergency was most likely him passed out and hungover after a night of drinking, smoking and a shit ton of coke or molly or acid or whatever he was taking these days. 

“And seeing as he was your partner and was supposed to train the newbie,” Mr. Rodriguez continued, gesturing towards the boy beside you, “So meet JJ Maybank, your new partner until I decide he’s learned enough from you.”

Your beach’s lifeguards worked on a partner system, due to its size. There were always two lifeguards in every tower to maintain maximum security.

You tried not to groan. JJ Maybank? Of all the people in the world, you had to get stuck with the one notorious for recklessness, theft, and starting fights? Of fucking course, you did.

“Right,” You nodded, giving your manager a tight-lipped smile, maintaining your politeness while subtly letting him know you were not happy with the cards you had just been dealt.

Again, without looking at JJ, you stood up, your hands on your hips. “When do we start?” You asked.

“Right now.”

You nodded, turning on your heel and calling over your shoulder. “You coming, Maybank?”

You heard shuffling as he followed after your long strides. You grabbed a rescue buoy for yourself and tossed one to JJ, who caught it with ease. You walked toward the front desk, smiling at Cheri, one of the receptionists your own age who was always nice to you, letting you get away with things she probably shouldn’t have. Picking up two whistles, you walked out the door and finally greeted the boy.

“So you lifeguard now?” 

He shrugged. “I do whatever to pay for my pot.” 

You rolled your eyes, walking down the beach towards your assigned tower for the day. “I can respect that.”

“So there are a few things you should know,” You began, to which JJ listened intently.

“I figure Rodriguez has already been through the list of your duties?” You raised an eyebrow in question.

JJ nodded. “Thoroughly. He doesn’t think I’ve a single brain cell, that man. He tried to draw me a picture of the lifeguard tower.”

You held in a smile. “If you ask me, he’s right to think that,” you quipped, making JJ pout.

“Anyways, apart from that, you need to know a few other things that are kind of unwritten. For example, don’t bother telling people to get off the rocks, just be ready to save them if they fall.”

JJ wrinkled his brows. “The fuck kind of rule is that? Not even going to warn people?”

You shrugged. “Unless you want to make a scene with a bunch of Karens shouting at you for dictating rules on a public beach, then you’ll do as I say.”

JJ grumbled. ‘Yes, ma’am.”

“Bob your head every once in a while so you don’t miss the people right below you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Keep the buoy on you wherever you go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And lastly, don’t ever think someone is faking anything. Doesn’t matter if your friend is pranking you, we gotta do what we gotta do. We have to save every last imbecile on this beach.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Frustrated, You turned towards him, stopping in the sand, one hand on your hip. “Oh, shut your trap with that ma’am nonsense, Maybank. Trust me, you lucked out with getting me as a partner over Kyle—”

JJ nodded. “I sure did, guy’s a total tool. Besides, hot girl over junkie guy,” he whistled low, “no debate there.”

You tried not to blush at JJ calling you hot, but you felt the tips of your ears turn pink.

“Right, well, you can’t be hitting on me while we’re working together, Maybank.”

“Why not?”

You stepped forward, poking him in the chest. “Because you’ve known me since we were kids, yet we’ve never spoken. So don’t go pretending that I’m not invisible anymore.”

JJ frowned. 

You turned, “Come on, there’s work to do.”

One the two of you climbed up the tower, you put on your whistle and gestured for JJ to lean forward, so that you could toss it over his neck. He did so, accidentally knocking his forehead on yours. “Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping away. 

As he settled in, you stripped your shorts and tank, now left in your ruby red lifeguard one piece.

Today was slow, being a Wednesday off-season, and JJ tried to start a conversation. He pulled out a joint and offered it to you. 

You gave him an “Are you kidding me,” look and he shrugged, unbothered, lighting it up and taking a long hit. “So what’s Keith really doing if he’s not having a family emergency?”

“Kieth? You mean Kyle?”

JJ nodded. “Right, him.”

You laughed dryly, “Probably wrecked after popping ten too many pills and sleeping with a few too many girls. Guy doesn’t know when to stop.”

JJ didn’t look at you, looking out at the sea. “So when did you two break it off?”

“What—We—” You spluttered.

JJ took another long inhale from the joint. “It’s easy to see, babe.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you snapped, pulling down your sunglasses from atop your head, hoping to hide the emotions that were most definitely swimming in your eyes. 

“S’not, I know,”

“Then why ask?”

“Just curious as to how a girl like you ended up with a douche like him.”

You were quiet for a moment, before you said, “He wasn’t always like this.”

“Only doing coke, not into molly yet?” JJ joked.

You chuckled. “No, not like that. He was incredibly kind, he had the biggest heart.” You fingered the wood on the arm of your chair.

“Then what happened?”

“Then his mom died, and I wasn’t enough.” Your hand retreated into your lap. 

“He dump you?”

Your eyes narrowed. “No, I dumped him. I’m smart enough to know when I’m getting less than I deserve.”

JJ hummed. “I think I have a chance then.”

You laughed. “You’ve got nothing more than wishful thinking, Maybank.”

“Come to the kegger tonight. I’ll show you wishful thinking.”

You almost gasped at his forwardness. “No, you idiot.”

He turned towards you, meeting your eyes, pleading. You didn’t relent. 

“Fine, miss, I’ll just let you keep that stick up your ass then.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

When lunch came around, you let him go first, and when he returned, smelling of way too much weed, you asked, “You mind if I catch some waves? Think you can hold your own for a half hour?”

JJ gave a toothy grin. “Hell yeah, and watch you ride those waves? It’s going to be hard for me to watch anything but you.”

You smacked him over the head. “Do your job or we’ll both be in trouble, Maybank.”

You grabbed your board and climbed down, racing across the sand towards the water. Finally, you let yourself relax, sinking into the waves as they came. You even caught yourself doing a couple tricks, unconsciously trying to impress the blonde boy who was watching you from the tower. You felt high as a kite when you even managed to successfully execute several cutbacks in a row. You thought you heard a celebratory whistle from the direction of the tower and you jokingly gave a salute towards the beach.

As you climbed back up, JJ cheered. “Holy shit! I knew you were good, but god damn, Y/N! You gotta teach me how to do that Rodeo Flip! I’ve been trying to get it down for years!”

You laughed. “We’ll see, Maybank.”

His hands tugging at his hair in excitement, he asked, “How are you not going pro?!”

You shrugged. “I don’t do it for sport. It’s just something I do for me.”

JJ nodded, a renewed look of respect in his eyes. “Word.”

You spent the rest of your shift laughing at the ridiculous tourists on the beach, especially the ones that forgot sunblock.

You told JJ to go on ahead of towards the visiting center as you had a couple of things left to tidy up. 

When you returned, he was chatting up Cheri, a thousand watt smile on her face as she enjoyed the attention from the pretty blonde.

You rolled your eyes, shoving past them to dump your equipment and clock out. You didn’t know what that bubbling feeling in your abdomen was, or why your stomach lurched at the thought of Cheri and JJ, or maybe you did, but you chose not to think about it too hard, afraid of the conclusion you’d come to.

As you walked out of the visitor center, turning towards home, you heard JJ call your name. You stopped, closing your eyes and muttering a silent prayer for the patience to deal with this boy.

He jogged out, making his way to you. “Hey!” He greeted, out of breath.

“Here to give me another half-assed invite to some kegger?” You asked.

JJ frowned, shaking his head. “No, I just wanted to clarify something you said this morning. You-You said that I thought you were invisible, because we’ve never spoken.”

“And?” you didn’t see where he was going with this other than to insult you.

“We’ve never spoken because I had the biggest crush on you Y/N. I’ve avoided you everywhere. You were hardly invisible to me. If anything, I didn’t think you saw me.”

You laughed. “Sure, Maybank.”

JJ shuffled his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s true,” he mumbled.

You smiled, “Have fun at the kegger, JJ.” You gave him a peck on the cheek before walking off into the night, the darkness hiding your flaming cheeks. 

You heard a celebratory whoop from behind you and bit your lip as you smiled. 

Your heart felt light all week as you got closer to your partner. He was actually great at his job, especially with the children patrons on the beach, which greatly surprised you. 

You remembered one day in the middle of the week, when you were dropping your equipment off, JJ didn’t have his whistle. 

When you asked about it, he simply laughed. “This kid near the docks kept pestering me for it. Little guy wanted to be a junior lifeguard. Couldn’t say no…”

It was at the end of the week when you met his friends, the infamous, self-proclaimed pogues.

The trio had shown up near the end of your shift, claiming to be curious of the job that JJ actually managed to keep for longer than a day. JJ saw them approaching and immediately swore, turning towards you to say, “I’m going to apologize now for what you’re about to experience.”

Before you could ask what that meant, he had left, climbing down the towers to stop his friends from reaching you. 

Confused, you made your way down, too, watching as a boy with shaggy brown hair clapped JJ over the back, ruffling his hair aggressively. “So this is what you’ve been missing out on pogue days for?”

A dark haired boy, who looked nervous about simply existing, added, “Not what, who,” nodding at you, standing with your arms crossed over your chest and an eyebrow cocked. 

JJ had a permanent blush on his face, but you couldn’t puzzle out why. Meanwhile, you received a slightly reserved smile from the girl holding hands with the nervous boy. She waved politely. 

The boy with shaggy hair marched forward, arms wide open to give you a hug. You thrust your hand out on instinct, which he looked at like a difficult algebra equation, before brushing it away gently and pulling you into his tight embrace. The boy gave great hugs, you had to admit. The kind of tight bear hugs you expect from your mom. 

You laughed nervously, patting him on the back and looking over his shoulder at the other three, who all laughed. JJ mouthed I’m sorry at you and you responded with I’m going to kill you.

When he finally let you go, he tussled your hair and said, “Nice to meet the girl who’s got my boy tripping over his own feet to get to work. I’m John B.”

You flicked your eyes over to JJ, who was as red as a tomato. He buried his face in Pope’s shoulder, muttering something. You snorted. “Hardly. I’m Y/N.”

The dark haired boy grinned, “Trust me, we know. I’m Pope and this is Kie,” he introduced himself and what you assumed was his girlfriend.

In the next hour, you learned that JJ’s friends were loud, blunt and lacked basic manners in some ways, but they were youthful and thick as thieves, clearly a family. 

There was something warm about Pope, something that allowed you to trust him immediately, completely. So when the other three were surfing, and he joined you on the sand, asking you, “So are you feelin’ my boy or what?”, you weren’t afraid to be completely honest.

Giving a short laugh at his bluntness, you admitted, “I don’t really know. There could be something there. There is something there, I think.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

You would feel pathetic to confess this to anybody else, but Pope seemed like he wouldn’t judge you if you admitted to having three children. “I don’t know if we want the same things. I don’t see a guy like that in a serious relationship. Doesn’t seem like the type to settle.”

Pope grinned. “You know him well, then.”

Your heart fell as you thought that Pope was confirming your fears.

“But not well enough, I think. You’d be surprised. He’s kind of...obsessed with you. But not in the “Pokemon gotta catch ‘em all!” kind of way. He doesn’t see you as some sort of spiky eared Pichu…”

He trailed off and you looked at him, absolutely baffled. “I’m sorry...I don’t follow?”

Pope cleared his throat. “He likes you, Y/N, like really respects you and wants to make you happy. Any fool can see that.”

You were sure your entire body was on fire with how hard you flushed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Well, you keep him on his toes so we don’t mind. And it’s made him a little softer, a little more careful, which we definitely don’t mind. He needs to be checked, that one.”

Pope stood up, reaching his hand out and pulling you up. “Now, JJ tells me you have a killer cutback. Wanna show me?” He asks.

You give him a big smile, grateful for his kind words and ability to seamlessly bring you back to reality from that heavy conversation. “I’d love to. If you can keep up!” 

Laughing, Pope followed you into the ocean, JJ giving you an excited smile as you joined him in the water, content to see you getting along with his family.

Later that night, when his friends left, and JJ was helping you towel off your hair while shaking his own like a wet dog, making you giggle and shriek at the sensation, he asked, “You wanna actually catch some waves outside of this beach sometime?” 

It was your conversation with Pope earlier that gave you the confidence to say, “How about tomorrow? It’s our day off…”

“I’ll pick you up before dawn then?”

You nodded, “Sounds perfect.”

He tossed you your towel, casually throwing an arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked back to the visitor’s center.

The next morning, you were a mess. JJ had never seen you in anything aside from your lifeguard uniform and you nearly lost your mind trying to figure out what to wear. You felt like a middle schooler deciding what to wear on the first day of school to impress their crush. 

Eventually, you thought to hell with it, and just went with a blue romper over your swimsuit, letting your hair down for once.

You didn’t bother with makeup since you were planning to get soaked anyways. 

When you heard the distinct sound of a large engine approaching, you walked out of your house, curious.

When the image of JJ on a dirt bike came into focus, you couldn’t help the cackle that tittered out of your mouth. 

He slowed down to a complete stop in front of your driveway, swinging his leg over and walking up to you, spinning the key ‘round his finger.

“Hey, dude!” He greeted, sweeping you up in an unexpected hug. Still, you melted into his frame, letting your usually rigid spine relax, feeling JJ nuzzle into your shoulder slightly and sighing.

You pulled away after a moment and JJ rubbed the back of his neck shyly, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Sorry, I-uh, I really needed that today.” This boy was touch-starved. 

You patted his chest as you walked towards the dirt bike. “S’alright, it happens to the best of us.”

JJ followed you. “You ever ridden one of these before?”

You cocked your head at him. “Oh yeah, all the time.”

He looked surprised, before handing you the keys and raising his eyebrows in challenge. “Prove it.”

You simply smirked and mounted the bike, pretending you didn’t hear JJ mumble “That’s hot,” under his breath. Instead, you started the engine and nodded at him to get on behind you.

JJ smiled before climbing on behind you, scooching forward until every inch of your back was flush against his front. 

“Let’s go, babe!” You said, before taking off down the street. 

JJ gave you directions, steering you into areas of the Cut you had never been, which was saying something since you knew this town like the back of your hand.

Finally, he pulled up to a small cove, where you saw a small patch of sand. It was the farthest land towards the sea, meaning you would probably find the biggest waves.

“Holy shit, how did I not know this place existed?”

JJ grinned, bringing you to a small shack where a couple of boards were hidden from view in the foliage. 

He handed you a board. “I’m full of surprises. Your hair smells nice, by the way.”

“Stop that!” You laughed.

“Stop what?”

You slapped him over the head. “Making me blush.”

“Don’t think I will.”

You rolled your eyes and simply unzipped your romper, ignoring the whistle from JJ as you stepped out in only your swimsuit. You laid the fabric over the handle of his dirt bike and turned towards him. He was still in his T-shirt and swim trunks.

“Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?”

JJ gave a shit-eating grin, “My, my, Y/L/N, at least take a guy to dinner first.”

You shoved at his chest. “No, you dumbass, I meant you can’t surf in that.”

JJ opened his mouth as if to say something before pausing and wrinkling his nose. “It’s just not a good idea for me today.”

“What did you eat a little too much? I can promise I’m not afraid of a food baby, Maybank, I can deal.”

JJ tried explaining before just giving up and pulling his shirt off, leaving you shocked and incredibly confused, not to mention concerned.

Bruises littered his body, beginning at his shoulder and ending far below his ribs. Involuntarily, your hand brushed his skin. “What the fuck happened, JJ?”

He shrugged. “S’my Dad, you know. Gets angry sometimes is all.”

You shook your head sadly. “You don’t deserve that.”

JJ laughed darkly. “That’s up for debate.”

You stomped your foot. “No, it’s absolutely not! No one deserves that, especially not you.”

JJ softened. “You really think so?”

“Of course I do.”

He gave a small smile. “So you won’t make fun of me for not being able to keep up with you today? It’s only because I got my ass kicked, otherwise I’d surf circles around you all day.”

His words made you frown, but you recognized the coping mechanism and simply said, “Oh sure, Maybank. You know as well as I do that there’s not a world where you can surf better than me.”

He shrugged, walking towards the water. “I can sure as hell try, babe!”

Surfing with JJ was an experience on some whole other level. Sharing a wave was something even the most experienced surfers didn’t attempt, but something in you trusted JJ and the two of you tried it out. It was absolutely surreal, until JJ didn’t resurface.

Your euphoric smile quickly turned into a panicked cry. “JJ? JJ?!” You looked around and caught sight of him hanging on to his board, eyes closed. You swiftly untied your board from your ankle and swam over to him, pulling him towards you. He was like dead weight. You dragged him over to the shore and dumped him there, immediately leaning down to check his pulse. 

You felt it clear as day, but tears filled your eyes. “JJ! Wake up!”

You began chest compressions immediately. Before you even got to ten, however, you heard a giggle. 

Bewildered, you looked at his smiling face, his amused blue eyes laughing at you.

You instantly flinched away, retreating from him. “You were faking?”

JJ nearly choked on his laughter. “You-you should have—” He tried to breathe through the guffaws “—seen your face! Priceless!”

You slapped at his chest with your fists as he sat up, ignoring his slight winces given his prior injuries. “Ay, ay what’s up with that! Stop it, Y/N!”

“You bastard! I thought you were dying!”

JJ softened, before holding the back of your neck and pulling you towards him, leaning in to capture your lips with his. It was sweet and short and he pulled away quickly, asking. “Was that alright?”

You shook your head, pouting. “No, another!” 

He smiled, but gave in to your pleas gleefully, his other hand coming over the front of your neck, pulling you closer to him by your throat. You bit his lip harshly, still angry from the stunt he had just pulled and his whined quietly, moving his hand down your spine, hands brushing the bare skin that your swimsuit exposed. 

He lay back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You didn’t realize how much you had wanted this until you were doing it. You were kissing JJ Maybank. And it felt right. It felt as right as surfing did, maybe even better, you dared to think. 

Maybe it was the fact that he kissed you like he had all the time in the world and didn’t care, because he was hungry right now. Maybe it was how he held you like he was afraid you would let go. Maybe it was how he managed to wordlessly beg for your skin on his, clearly touch-starved. Whatever it was, it solidified the growing feelings you had for the blonde, blossoming into something new, something stronger, something better, until you couldn’t hear any of your own thoughts other than his name--over, and over and over again. 

When you finally broke that time, you smiled into his neck, trying to catch your breath. “Wow,” sighed JJ, “That was some kiss, babe. If you kiss me like that forever, I’ll die a happy man.”

You giggled, but sat up slightly, flicking his nose. You knew you had to get this awful, insecure doubt of yours out of your mouth right now before you let it fester into something that could ruin this beautiful thing you were creating with JJ. “If you ever break my heart, JJ, I swear to God, you better not cheat on me.”

He frowned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve wanted this forever. Can’t fuck it up now.”

You smiled, bending down for another kiss. JJ stopped you. “Wait. While we’re making promises, let me just say, if you ever get back with Kyle, I will sue.”

You thought the whole town probably heard your laugh then.

K so not my best work but hope y’all liked it!

Tagging @rretrophilee @jjsbxtch @drewsephsmiles @uwubonebabie bc we talked about it! You don’t have to read if you don’t want to lol 💛

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

The bedroom down the hall

Warning: Super angsty, like next level angst, it made @sirkekselord​ cry Word count: ~1.6k Summary: After Jason’s death you know it’s time to pack up the things in his room, but will you be able to cope with all the memories and the fact that your son is really dead? (Inspired by “In the bedroom down the hall” from ‘dear Evan Hansen’)

Requested by the lovely @hubblill: Hey!Love you fics! I wonderd if I could request a super angsty batfam (batmom) story, inspirerad by the song "In the beadroom down the hall" (dear evan hansen) where batmom is packning up Jasons things after he dies and remember all the good and bad times they had. Ending with some fluff please.

The manor was cold with the absence of the little boy you'd grown to love in the last five years. You had grown to see as your son, your youngest after Dick. You weren't able to really blame Bruce, he was your husband after all, but at the same time, you weren't able to look into his eyes, let alone sleep in the same bed with him. It just hurt too much. It had been two months now and you still expected Jay to come through the door and fall into your arms after school. But he never did. He would never again. "Mistress Wayne," Alfred's voice made you look up from the book you had thoughtlessly picked up, not realizing what it was, only to recognize the cover of the book you had always read to Jason when he couldn't sleep when he was younger when you tried to put it back on the shelf, "I think it's time, I've already placed the boxes in front of the door." He didn't need to say explicitly what he meant, you already knew, you already dreaded it. Jason's room had been closed, left the way it was, ever since the night you found out he died. Back then you had spent the whole night kneeling at his bed, crying for all the days he'd never have, all the experiences he would never make. Bruce tried to get you out, but you couldn't even bear to be in the same room as him and, even though he was hurting too, he loved you too much to intervene, instead deciding to give you space and time to grieve. The next morning you locked the door and put the key around your neck, you couldn't stand the thought of changing it, even though you knew, deep inside, that it wouldn't be used again. You had played with the thought of letting it just stay closed, gather dust until you were ready to face the fact that you had lost your son, but Alfred made you try to understand that you'd never get to that point if you'd literally lock your feelings away. So you just nodded, eyes void of emotions after days and nights that you spent crying, and turned around to go to the place that became the center of everything you had hoped would never happen. You stood in front of his bedroom quicker than you had expected. It was the very last room in the hallway that had been dedicated to your children, Dick's room that was also long left empty only a few doors away. A pained smile made its way onto your face when your eyes landed on the lettering that Jason had carved into it when he finally felt home 'Jason's room! Keep out!' and a bit smaller under it stood 'Except mom!' that he had added when your mother-son bond got as strong as it had been for the rest of the five years you had together. Only five years... You swallowed the lump in your throat and closed your eyes for a second, trying to keep the tears from streaming just a little bit longer, before picking up one of the boxes and opening the door, before you could change your mind. 

You tried to ignore your surrounding as best as you could, knowing that if you'd focus too much on anything you'd break down again, and made your way over to the closet that stood beside his bed and slowly opened it. The beginning was easy. It was shirts that he wore every day that laid perfectly folded in their place, they made you smile a bit, thinking about how they all seemed to be the same shirt in different colours and with sometimes a pattern on it. But then your hands landed on a deep grey crocheted sweater. You remembered like yesterday how you started to try your hand at crocheting when the stress of Dick leaving and the new cute kid going out fighting with your husband got a bit too much. The sweater was the first thing you made that you dared to show anyone and when it turned out to somewhat be the size of Jason you couldn't help but give it to him. He always complained about it, saying that the fabric was just a horrible choice and that the arms got tighter at the end. You just shrugged and laughed that maybe crocheting wasn't your strong suit after all and that he could feel free to throw it away whenever he wanted. You were sure that he'd thrown it into the trash the same day, but here it was. In your hands. He had kept it. The first tears started welling up in your eyes and you couldn't help but pressing it to your body as if Jason was still in it... but it was just a thought, the ghost of a hope that you started to lose. You finally looked around the room. Your eyes were drawn to the superman nightlight that was plugged into the wall beside the door, you had bought it for him as a joke, but somehow he never wanted to take it off again. You only found out that he wasn't too fond of being alone in the dark when the lightbulb inside it broke and he made his way to your and Bruce's bedroom, asking you if you could fix it. You had promised he would never see it break again, but you had never known that it would be because of such a gruesome circumstance. Then your gaze landed on his bedside table and you were like in a trance when you sat down on the bad and opened its drawer, your breath hitching when you saw the broken picture frame laying inside it. It was a picture of you, him and Bruce on his birthday. You looked so happy, but it seemed like a distant memory now, something from a place that was destroyed by a blizzard of change. You traced the cracks in the frame and of the fragments of glass and you couldn't stop your brain from wandering to the evening when it was broken like that. You couldn't quite remember why, but you had forbidden him from joining patrol that night and he was enraged by that. He screamed at you, shouted that he heated you and that you weren't his real mother, but instead of sitting him down and explaining that you were just worried for him and that you knew he didn't mean it, you screamed back... You'll regret saying that... One day I might not be here to care about you anymore, what's then?... Stop acting so childish... Then he threw the picture at the wall and you left the room, telling him that if he thought he knew everything so much better than you that he should make is own decisions... You weren't sure when you started crying and sobbing, you hadn't even noticed your finger getting pierced by the shards of glass and blood dripping onto the picture beside your tears. The hairs on your neck began raising and your hearts started beating when you thought that it was Jason who stood in the doorway, but when you looked up it was Bruce who looked at you worried, with tears of his own welling up in his eyes.   You started to break down and, you didn't know how, but soon you were clutching onto Bruce, crying into his chest. "I-I can't do this," you sobbed, "I'm sorry, I just can-can't." Your voice was broken and cracked and you felt like there was just a heavy brick of ice where your heart had been. "It's okay," Bruce whispered into your hair, but you could hear that he was crying too, "We don't have to.."

Your head was arching at the screaming match that was happening in your living room between Bruce and Tim, a useless fight that both would have forgotten by tomorrow, and you decided that it wasn't worth your evening. You were walking towards your room when something caught your eye in the corridor that you hadn't entered for years. You couldn't believe your eyes. Jason's door was wide open, even though the key was still hanging around your neck, never having left its place. Whatever took over you at that moment was something that you couldn't explain, but instead of calling for your husband to investigate, your blood rushed through your ears as you warily walked over to the room. When you stood in the door your gaze landed on the figure that was standing in front of the commode that was decorated with pictures of your late son and the rest of your family (mainly you, Alfred and Bruce). The person, seemingly a man, was towering at around the same height as Bruce. "Who are you?" you breathed out in a whisper, something about the man was off. He turned to you in surprise, but even though he was taller, more muscular, older and now had a white streak in his black hair, you'd recognize these blue eyes everywhere. "Jason?" you whispered with tears in your eyes as you walked closer to him, while he just stood there like a statue. "Is it really you?" You raised your hand to his cheek and stroked over it. You weren't quite sure if the look in his eyes was one of anger or one of sadness, but you didn't know if you cared. As soon as your heart was sure that it was really your little Jason, you embraced him as tight as you could, feeling like he could disappear any second again. Sobs were shaking your body, but soon you felt his arms around you, hugging you just as tight. "It's me mommy, I'm back. It's really me..."