#Like it's okay not to focus over it but you gotta be conscious of the fact that the writing is sexist.

[kyouka-supremacy]

uh, i agree with lack of female characters in bsd :( so disappointing. i am angry how authors push them in the far back. at least kyouka, yosano, and lucy got their spotlight! this is why yosano's backstory is so important <3

Ye I knowwwww let's talk about it bestie 😔😔

All the female characters have so much potential and their abilities are pretty cool yet they barely get any screentime ;;;;;; Really praying we'll get to see any more of them soon, even if it's Teruko. And Yosano's story was amazing!!! It added so much depth to the character, unironically I consider it the peak of bsd. Anyways stan all of bsd women ❤️❤️❤️

[ruewrote]

𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑.

PAIRING: evan buckley x fem!reader WARNINGS: blood, reader getting injured GENRE: angst, fluff SONG INSPIRATION: departure by jaron WORD COUNT: 1.1k

navigation

you had just finished shutting the doors of the ambulance, giving it two loud bangs for them to drive before re-joining the crew.

"another great save guys, good job!" bobby says as he pats eddie on the back, walking over to ready the engine.

"god im hungry!" he blurted out and you just laugh, "what?"

"i just seriously don't understand how you're hungry after all of that," if anything you felt incredibly nauseous.

that's when you felt the sharp hot pain in your side, suddenly finding it hard to stand, it had become apparent that your adrenaline had worn off.

falling to your knees as you cried out in agony. your hands pressed to the hurt area, pulling it back to find your hand soaked in your own blood.

buck worriedly rushed to your side, his hands gently pushed your shoulders back so you laid out flat on the ground. only to find the cause of your discomfort was a large piece of glass was sticking out of your stomach through your jacket.

his first thought was to curse you as you had recklessly climbed through the windshield when you helped the young woman out of the recent car wreck, only for her to be okay and for you to get injured yourself.

he rummaged through his medical bag for something to stop the bleeding, struggling but finally found the right supplies. using his teeth to rip open the packaging before putting pressure around the glass making you groan out in pain.

"i know, i know sweetheart. you're gonna be okay." no words left you just sharp little breaths as you lightly gripped onto bucks arm, trying to give him some sort of reassurance.

he screamed out for the rest of the team, voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. the glass was deep like really deep, all evan could think about was you and if anything had been nicked internally.

bobby and eddie ran over to the two of you, you could hear one of them call for another ambulance as soon as possible. something about a firefighter down, but all you could focus on was how cold you had gotten.

"buck i don't feel s-so goo-d..." for the first time in a long time you were afraid.

"they're on their way, you gotta hold on for me, please!" he begged as he smoothed the hair that had fallen across your face with his spare shaking hand, the other still tightly pressed against your wound.

shakily you lifted your hand to brush his tears, your thumb very slowly caressing his cheek. "you'll be oka.."

the pain was all too much, it was too difficult to keep your eyes open. evan shook your face, "no. no you've got to stay awake! i can't lose you." he shouted, as eddie pulled him away from you. the paramedics put you on the gurney rushing you into the back of the vehicle immediately hooking you up to multiple medications.

bobby and buck shared a look, the captain gave him a swift nod, that's all it took for him to jump into the seat next to you. grabbing a hold of your hand, squeezing it tightly in his own as you made your way to the hospital.

beep. beep. beep.

your vision was blurred as you opened your eyes, first seeing the heart monitor and the dark sky that peaked out from behind the wonky blinds. the hospital was quiet, a little too quiet for your liking.

you turned to your other side, finding a sleeping evan in what looked like the most uncomfortable chair with a blanket wrapped around his body.

a smile tugged at your lips, he stayed with you. your smile soon fell realising the last thing he saw of you conscious was you nearly bleeding out in his arms.

readjusting yourself was harder than you thought, grunting at the pain, holding your side.

buck woke up startled, jumping up to help you lay back down.

"that was one way to get your attention," you laugh before wincing.

"you've got to be careful, that glass got you good." he says as he straightened out your blanket.

he was trying to not show his worry, you had known him far too long to see through that. "buck, buckley!" you whisper yelled, grabbing his hand, pulling him close to you the best that you could.

everything fell still. his bigger hand intertwined with yours.

"i was so worried," his voice wobbled, it was only loud enough for you to hear.

"i should've stopped you, if i did you wouldn't be here right now."

you squeezed his hand, looking up at him. "you know you couldn't have stopped this, ev."

tugging on his hand to bring him closer to you, shuffling over in your bed, patting the small amount of space next to you. "hop in?" you questioned with a smile.

"there's no way there is enough room on that thing for the both of us!" he exclaimed

"well you better squeeze in then."

and so he did, your bodies pressed up against one another. only after buck extensively checked that he wasn't hurting you or laying on any tubes.

you were now both settled face-to-face, hearing nothing but each others breaths and the beating of your machine. your heart rate elevated when he leaned in closer to run his fingers through your hair.

feeling your face heat up, closing your eyes, embarrassed how a simple action could do that to you, let alone him being able to hear it. the sound of him chuckling worried you. but the feeling of him going back to gently brushing the stray hairs out of your face comforted you.

"i know we deal with close calls every single day, but i... god. all i could think about when they took you away was all the things i hadn't told you yet."

your eyebrows furrowed and eyes reopened, "what things?"

"uh, well things like 'i love you' and also to let you know that 'you stink'," he laughed as you playfully punched him in the arm.

"hey, ow!"

"took you long enough." you exaggeratedly sighed whilst trying to keep a straight face.

"you knew?!" he exclaimed as he sat up still looking for answers.

laughing at his reaction as you held your bandage, "no, you c'mere!"

he scooped you up in his arms, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, laughter now gone. he leaned in close, his lips brushed softly against yours. smiling into the kiss you pulled him closer to you.

you stayed like that for a while, cuddling, kissing and talking. that soon came to a stop when you fell asleep listening to evan's voice, he only realised this mid ramble. pulling the covers up over you, closing his eyes, slowly wrapping his arms around you. not before giving you a kiss on the forehead of course.

© ruewrote.

[targaryenmarvel]

Fallin' All In You (Part 3) - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: You’ve known Wanda Maximoff since you were children. She was the shy and exceptionally beautiful twin sister of your best friend, Pietro. For the most part, you two never interacted, but that changes when against your better judgment, you begin to develop feelings for the girl. 

Warnings: Cursing

Note: It's a bit late, but here's part three! It was initially longer, but I didn't want to make you guys wait too long. I hope you enjoy it, and I'll post the next part as soon as I finish editing it. Also, credit to the creator of the GIF.

Word count: 4,377

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

///////////////////////////////////////////////

Voices echoed through the halls as students lounged around before classes. Some were engaged in lively conversations, while others scrolled through their phones. 

The air remained charged with energy and excitement from the previous day's win, as proved by the many praises you received from students and teachers. The elating compliments usually made you smile in glee, feeding into your ego. Yet, today, you could only muster a mediocre half-smile. Fatigue overran your body as a result of a sleepless night. Thoughts of Wanda had invaded your mind with no plan of ever leaving.

How could they when you nearly kissed the girl? You had spent the night overanalyzing the situation. Initially, you thought Wanda wanted to kiss you, but you were unsure after her speedy escape. God, you were an idiot. You had ruined any possibility of her ever liking you. She probably thought you were a creep. The fact that Wanda couldn't even look at you throughout the day attested to your thoughts. Even now, as you were seated with your friends, you could sense the uncomfortable tension that had taken over before she left your car. You just wished your friends wouldn't notice anything, especially Pietro. 

"We should do something today." It was Natasha who saved you from your agonizing thoughts.

"What do you have in mind?" Steve asked, slinging his arm over her shoulder.

"Let's go to the movie theatre," she glared at you, "and you can't find an excuse not to go this time."

"I wasn't going to third wheel you and Steve," you defend yourself with a pout, crossing your arms.

"You wouldn't have to third wheel if you accepted a date from the many guys and girls who have asked you out," Natasha refuted. Wanda, who seemed to have been tuning out the conversation, instantly looked at you, causing you to feel more self-conscious.

"Ahh, you never told me this," accused Pietro, looking at you like you had just run over his cat.

Steve leaned on his elbows and playfully whispered, "She's quite the heartbreaker."

"I am not!" You snapped, feeling the heat in your upper body increase by the second. The three are stifling laughs, amused by your embarrassment. Wanda simply looked curious. "I am not, okay. I've never gone out with anyone-" you looked pointedly at Natasha, "-and you know I wasn't interested in dating."

"Are you interested now?" She provoked. When you didn't answer, she continued tormenting you. "Common Y/N, there's gotta be someone you like."

You rested your head on your arms, trying to hide from their analyzing gaze. You wanted to deny it but couldn't find it in yourself to lie, especially in front of the girl of your affections. Moreover, if the girl felt anything akin to your feelings, such denial would probably make her feel relieved you didn't kiss. So instead of answering her, all you said was a muffled, "Shut up."

Later that day, the five, along with Pietro's date, met at the movie theater and, after a majority consensus, bought tickets to the new Conjuring movie. The two couples sat together, leaving you to sit next to Wanda. You didn't know if it was a good or bad thing. However, one thing was for sure: it would be difficult to focus on the movie when there was an apparent superior sight.

You really tried to concentrate on the movie; you swear you did, but you couldn't stop yourself from noticing Wanda's discomfort throughout the film. At first, you thought you were the problem, that your presence caused her state. Then, you noticed her ragged breathing and clenched fists, or how she would seal her eyes shut during the frightening scenes. 

Despite your qualms about your relationship with Wanda, you made a bold decision. Shielded by the darkness of the theater room, you dared to slide your hand over until your pinky touched hers. Wanda's already irregular breathing stopped at the action, and you expected her to move her hand in rejection. When she didn't, you summoned the last of your courage to entirely place your hand over hers, feeling Wanda's turn intertwining with your own. 

You struggled to contain the smile that threatened to bloom on your lips, but there was no controlling your racing heart and the swirling happiness that erupted in your stomach. You held hands for the remainder of the movie, and least to say, you paid even less attention, finding more comfort in the soft feel of her silk skin. 

You again offered to drive Wanda home, considering Pietro had to drive his date home. You reasoned that it would be awkward for Wanda to third-wheel her brother. Unlike the previous day, only the sound of the radio filled the atmosphere—neither of you daring to say a word of last night's occurrence or the hand holding. Feeling the increasing tension, Wanda finally decided to break the silence. 

"Have you started the book?" She asked, fiddling with her hands, keeping her eyes on the road. 

"No." You internally cursed yourself, having already forgotten about the reading. You had been too preoccupied with preparing for the game. "I need to check if they have it at the library."

"I figured you hadn't started." She giggled, and your heart skipped at the sound, "I can lend you my copy, don't worry."

You raised an eyebrow at her, "You're already done?"

"Mhm, besides, I've read it so many times I know it by memory." Once again, you pulled over in front of her home. "Wait here," Wanda instructed, hastily exiting the car. 

You assumed she didn't want a repeat of last night. Yet, not even two minutes later did Wanda return, walking to your side of the car. 

You lowered the window, taking the book from her outstretched hand. "Thanks."

"No problem. Though I am warning you, if I see so much as a scratch or bent page, I will kill you," she threatened, menacingly pointing her finger at you.

You scoffed and chuckled amusedly, "Wanda Maximoff threatening me over a book."

She shrugged nonchalantly and justified, "My books are my babies."

"Fair enough."

You expected her to bid you farewell, but she fidgeted in place, lips opening and closing before finally whispering, "Thank you- what you did in the theatre." Then, she quickly leaned in, kissed your cheek, and took off before you could react. 

You were left flabbergasted as your fingers brushed the burning imprint her lips had left on your skin, a sigh of delight leaving your lips. Wanda certainly had a way of spicing your nights. 

You returned home, Wanda's copy of 'Pride & Prejudice' in hand, still feeling giddy and dazed enough for your mother to notice.

"You okay, honey?" You hummed distractedly before biting your lip to contain a grin. Your mother recognized the lovesick expression you wore. "What's their name?" You furrowed your eyebrows at her question, and she clarified, "The person who has you love-struck."

You froze in place. Were you really that obvious? No matter, it wasn't a conversation you wanted to have with your mother. "I don't know what you're talking about, Mom. I'll be in my room." You could hear her laughter as you went up the stairs and into your bedroom. You stayed up until your eyes could no longer stay open reading, trying to distract yourself from Wanda. 

The next out-of-school opportunity you get to spend time with Wanda is Friday. One of your teammates was throwing a victory party while her parents were traveling. You weren't much for partying, but knowing Wanda would be there was motivation enough to assist. Knowing Pietro would probably drink, you decided to pick up the twins.

The three of you decided to find Steve and Natasha upon arriving. Once you did, Natasha offered you alcoholic beverages. You only took a sip of yours since you were the designated driver, and you had work early in the morning the next day—an easy weekend job at a flower shop. You noticed Wanda was also not keen on drinking, so you got sodas for the both of you. 

The five of you remained together until Pietro's girl arrived. Then, Natasha and Steve left, leaving you and Wanda alone. 

Finally, you took the opportunity to admire Wanda fully, from the black combat boots and ripped jeans to her signature red leather jacket covering yet another band teeshirt. Though you loved her outfit, your favorite part was her bright green eyes brought out by a sexy black eyeliner. You were a gay mess, to say the least. 

"You don't seem happy to be here," you commented, noticing her pout. Damn, she had such pretty lips.

"That's because I'm not. I'm only here because Pietro bribed me with new books. Now that I'm here, I realize it's not worth it, considering he left me alone," Wanda whined, playing with her rings.

"Alone? Am I that bad of a company?" You teased, enjoying the slight panic in her eyes before bursting out in laughter. "Don't worry, I won't leave you alone."

Wanda felt grateful for your company as she wasn't one to party, especially since her friends weren't there. Shuri, Peter, and the rest of the science club had left on a trip. Monica had planned on coming until she came down with the flu. It was funny how things changed between you two. How, years before, she would have panicked at the thought of being so close to you. Now, she could only feel her chest flutter with butterflies as you rant about your thoughts on Pride & Prejudice.

Not long after, Peggy Carter interrupted you both, wanting you to meet someone. You reluctantly agreed after Wanda said it was fine, and you promised to return quickly. Peggy led you into the kitchen, where a muscular boy your age stood with a red solo cup. She introduced him as Sam Wilson, her friend from another school, before leaving you two with a mischievous smile. 

"I think she's trying to set us up." Although you appreciated the noble gesture, now more than ever, you wished to return to Wanda. 

He nodded and said, "Look, you're beautiful, but I have my eye on someone else." His eyes looked over your shoulder, and you followed his eyesight and came upon James Barnes, Steve's best friend.

"Don't worry, I do too. You should go talk to him."

"We don't even know eachother." He lowered his head, avoiding your eyes.

"I can help with that." You took his hand and led him towards Bucky. "Hey, Bucky. I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Sam."

Bucky immediately smirked as he eyed Sam. Pleased with your work, you dismissed yourself, ready to return to Wanda's side. But, much to your dread, the brunette was gone when you arrived. Maybe she was tired of waiting for you? Perhaps she had found Pietro? No, but what if it was something terrible had happened to her? 

Not willing to take your chances, you decided to search for her. You looked throughout the entire first floor and even outside with no success. You were going up the stairs to scour the second floor, your concern threatening to detonate at any moment. Then, you heard her voice.

"Get away from me!"

In a panic, you followed the voice, leading you into one of the more isolated corridors. Your sight immediately landed on Brock Rumlow, backing up Wanda against the wall. Your blood boiled at the sight, and you clenched your fist, ready to attack. Before you could interfere, Wanda raised her knee, striking him between his legs. Rumlow tumbled down as he groaned in pain.

"You bitch!" he cursed, attempting to reach her on all fours. You were sure she could handle him herself, but you were consumed with rage as you ran forward, slamming your foot into his stomach, causing him to curl into a fetal position. You were about to deliver another blow to his face, but a gentle touch on your arm pulled you away. You are met with Wanda's pleading eyes telling you it was enough. 

You lowered yourself, yanking Rumlow by the hair and saying, "No means no, you fucking piece of shit." Before succumbing to your desire to injure him further, you intertwined your hand with Wanda's and led her to the front porch. 

You sat on the porch swing, closing your eyes and resting your head on the wood. Your lips were pulled into a tight line, fists clenched, as you tried to control your labored breathing. Your mind had a different idea as it drifted about what could have happened if you hadn't been there. Wanda handled the situation well enough, but the knowledge didn't lessen the anger. For fucks sake, all you wanted was to go back in and rip him apart. 

"Are you okay?" her honey-sweet voice broke you from your thoughts, a dry chuckle falling from your lips.

"I should be the one asking you that." You glanced at her. "You're the one who that asshole was..." You had to stop to take a deep, shaky breath, "I just want to go back in there and-"

Wanda lifted her hands to your cheeks, gently turning your head so you would look at her. "I'm okay," she whispered, thumbs caressing the skin of your cheekbones. You were instantly entranced by her intense stare, soothing voice, and the addicting feel of her skin on your own. Her lips turned upward, causing you to glance at them briefly. "You know you're always saving me. First, Trent Griffin, and now this idiot." She lowered her hands, making you immediately miss her touch. 

"I won't take credit for Rumlow. You had him handled before I interfered." You smirked at her, "Perfect kick, by the way." Your compliment evoked laughter from you both, Wanda's hand falling on your own. This time, you took the liberty of interlacing your hands. 

"So, who'd you meet?"

"Huh, oh, one of Peggy's friends, Sam. She was trying to set us up."

Wanda's head whipped around so fast, you thought it would fall off. "What?" She questioned, all playfulness was gone from her tone. 

"Yeah," you responded, unwilling to look at the girl. "Total waste, though. He looked like a nice guy and all, but definitely not my type. Besides, he had his eye on someone else." Your answer quelled the uneasiness in the brunette. 

"Really? Who?" She asked, disinterested but trying to seem unaffected by your words earlier. 

"Bucky," you answered with a grin, thinking of the cute couple the two would make. You missed the double take Wanda made. 

"Really? Bucky?" She questioned, perplexed. Although she didn't know Buck that well, she was highly intimidated by the man. The way he appeared to scowl at anyone except Steve. 

You found her incredulity hilarious, but you loved teasing her even more. "Do you have something against Bucky?" 

"What? No," she hastily replied. "It's just," she sighed, looking down, embarrassed, "he's kind of scary."

You burst into laughter as Wanda pulled her hand away to cover her face. As your giggles quieted, you uncovered her face, lacing your hands again. "Wanda, don't let the mean face fool you. He just has one of those faces. Bucky is a literal teddy bear. He would dare hurt a fly unless you mess with Steve or Alpine."

"Alpine?"

"His cat. See, totally safe," you assured.

Wanda sighed. "Sorry. I'm not actually scared of him; it's just that he appears intimidating."

"He does, doesn't he," you agreed with a smile.

"Anyways, this Sam," she dragged out, playing with your fingers. "You said he wasn't your type," Wanda took a deep breath. It was now or never. She looked straight at you and asked, " Tell me, who is your type?"

You felt the wind knocked out of your lungs as you gasped for an answer. What were you supposed to say? That she was your type? That all you could think about day and night was her? Or how anyone paled in comparison to her? You didn't dare to say any of those things yet. 

Instead, you nervously laughed as you rubbed your neck. "I don't know.'

"Not, Natasha?" Wanda pressed.

Your eyes shot to her, looking at her as if she'd grown a second head. "No, no, no. That's not- No," you vehemently denied. "Nat, she's amazing, but no."

You took a deep breath, furrowing your eyebrows in thought. "Pietro, he's my best friend, and while you and I didn't speak much, I always appreciated your presence." Wanda listened quietly, yet still confused about what that had to do with the conversation. "So when the two constants in my life left, I felt lost. I didn't know what to do with my best friend. Then, Natasha came along. She's kind of been to me what you are to Pietro. Someone who grounds me and pushes me to do better. It's because of her I got into soccer, you know? She basically dragged me to tryouts."

Wanda nodded understandingly. The quiet remained for a moment.

"What about you, Maximoff?"

She shrugged, "I haven't dated either."

"Really?" You asked, surprised that the goddess before you had not dated either. However, it was cut short by her following words.

"Actually, I did go on a date with this guy in California. It didn't work out."

You weren't jealous, no. You were curious about who was the idiot who let her go. "Really? Why"

"Jarvis came from an affluent family. All that money made him quite pretentious. To tell you that on the date, he took me to his mansion to show off all his money."

"Jarvis? His parents were definitely setting him up for failure with that name." Wanda laughed and playfully bumped your shoulder. 

When your laughter died down, you were left in silence, facing forward with a hint of a smile remaining on your lips. It wasn't uncomfortable like in your car, but peaceful and reassuring. You stayed in that position until you realized how late it was.

"Let's find Pietro so I can take you home." 

It didn't take long to find Pietro and his date, Crystal. The two were engaged in a competitive game of beer pong. Only two cups were left closest to them, while four remained on the opposing side. From his intoxicated state, you deduced they would soon lose. Pietro's uncoordinated throw needed more momentum, and the ping pong ball landed inches from the red solo cup. It wasn't long before the game ended.

You and Wanda walked in hand towards her brother, only separating as you threw your arm around his shoulder. The other took the alcohol-filled cup from his hands and set it down on the counter. "Okay, buddy, that's enough. Let's go home."

"Oh, come on, guys. It's still early."

"Seriously, Pietro. It's eleven," Wanda scolded with crossed arms. 

Pietro wrapped his arm around Wanda, so you were both on either side of him. "Sistra, aren't you enjoying yourself?"

Wanda shot daggers at Pietro, and you had to stop yourself from laughing. "No," she gravely responded.

"Okay, okay, okay." Pietro squeezed you both. "We can go... after you dance with Y/N." He looked down at you with a grin. "It's a party, and you two haven't done anything fun. Come on." He released you and took Crystal's hand, leading her to dance. 

You and Wanda watched, taken aback. Wanda scoffed, but you felt humored at Pietro's suggestion. Despite the loud music filling the atmosphere the entire night, it was the first time you cared to listen. Suddenly, all you wanted was a dance with Wanda. 

 You turned to Wanda, outstretching your hand. "He's right, you know? Let's have a little fun. Dance with me?"

She glanced at your hand, hesitation clear in her viridescent eyes. Wanda was not much of a dancer; back in California, when Pietro forced her to go to parties, she spent her time in secluded corners with her friends. She regretted not accepting the countless invitations to dance; maybe she wouldn't be destined to embarrass herself in front of everyone. With that thought in mind, she picked up Pietro's discarded drink and gulped it down in one go. A little liquid courage is all she needed, Wanda thought as she dropped her hand into your own and followed you to the dancing group.

You saw the nervousness in her eyes; you won't lie, you felt in yourself. Your coordination only functioned in the field, not on the dance floor, but you didn't care. You wouldn't mind making a fool of yourself for Wanda. You had half a mind to follow her lead with a drink but held back.

You stood still among the dancing teens sticking out like a sore thumb. You were unsure of what to do with your hand. Should you hold Wanda by her hips? Would that be too audacious? Wanda felt the same, uncertain of how to proceed. Wanda found it comical that you continued to be a nervous mess despite your newfound friendship. Although she didn't mind, she enjoyed seeing the all-mighty Y/N and confident Y/N from her childhood shy because of her definite ego boost. It made up for the millions of times she had to hide away in fear of embarrassing herself when you were near. 

Wanda bit her lip, looking up at you from under her lashes, and she swears she could hear how you take a sharp breath. With foreign confidence, Wanda wrapped an arm around your neck and, with the other, took your hand, placing it on her hip.

"Is this okay?" 

You nod stupidly, flushed by the action. Frankly, Wanda's boldness turned you on. It took a few mental reprimands to let loose and get into the rhythm. The music took over your body as you moved in sync, each beat resonating in your chest. Your body came alive with the music and the electrifying touch of the woman holding on to you. Nothing else mattered as you gazed into her hypnotizing eyes.

Your body tingled as she brought you closer, locking her hands around your neck. You could feel the silk-smooth skin of her hips as your hands reached under her shirt or her fresh mint breath on your lips. You felt drunk on the feeling of Wanda. 

Similarly, Wanda felt euphoric like never before, and despite her earlier concerns about dancing, her body moved so naturally. Every cell in her body is reinvigorated by your touch and the way you slightly scratched at her swaying hips. Suddenly, she couldn't remember why she hated parties. Was it because you weren't there? It didn't matter, not when she could feel the tension building and building to a place of no return. She licked at her lips, alternating her gaze from your lips to your half-lidded eyes.

You couldn't hold back any longer as you raised a hand to cup Wanda's cheek, like water slipping through a broken dam, your restraint torn down by need. Wanda leaned into your touch with a sigh, relishing the softness of the action. At any other moment, the brunette would find it unimaginable to act in such a way, but she figured it was the alcohol feeding into her boldness.

The two of you had stopped dancing long ago as you engaged in a battle of who would make the next move. It wasn't that you weren't dying to taste her lips. In truth, the need became nearly paralyzing. Maybe if you had acted sooner, you could have saved the moment. 

As you leaned in to kiss her, a drunken stranger crashed into you, and you staggered back with Wanda in your arms. It seemed as if the universe had a vendetta against you by how it intervened. For a second time, you were deprived of her lips by the consequence of outer forces. 

The blow knocked you out of your daze, and with regained senses, you took in the frantic, inebriated man thrashing around. Wanda turned around in your arms, confused by the commotion. You protectively pulled her closer to your body and stepped back to prevent getting struck by the man as his friends tried to pull him away. The situation only got worse as the drunk man noticed a laughing group.

"That's our cue to leave," you said, ignoring the near kiss, more apprehensive about the unfolding scene.

After collecting Pietro and Crystal, you bid farewells to your other friends and made your way to your car. You and Wanda lead the way in silence, yet not uncomfortable. Though the near kiss rested heavily on your mind, unlike last time, there were no doubts. Of course, you felt disappointed in the interruption, yet some of you acknowledged it wasn't the place or time. You were sure the moment would come soon enough.

Your hand itched to reach for her, but you held back, unsure what Pietro would think. When you got your car, you rushed to open the door for Wanda, sharing a smile as you did so. Behind you, Crystal complained to Pietro about his lack of chivalry and how she needed to be more like you. 

The ride to Crystal's place was short, but the couple in the backseat made the ride feel eternal as they made out. You and Wanda looked at each other disgusted while playfully gagging. You chuckled, poking fun at the couple. After dropping Crystal off, you made your way to the Maximoff residence. The collective exhaustion became visible in the lack of conversation. Pietro's usual talkative self hummed to a song on the radio while Wanda closed her eyes and rested her head on the window.

On the other hand, you used the time pondering on your next move. Should you talk to Pietro first before asking her out?

The twins thanked you for the ride as you stopped outside their place. Wanda kissed your cheek goodbye when Pietro was distracted like the other night and left without another word. Pietro followed, but not before making plans for him to come over the next day. As they walked away, you could only stare, entranced by the brunette. She would be the death of you.

[girlwiththeobsessions]

love sick c.f.

this book has also been published on wattpad. same username as the one on here. i update faster on there.

you and conrad had a secret relationship two summers ago, when you were 15 and he was 16. you broke up with him because your younger sister, belly had liked him, and you were afraid of hurting her. now, flash forward, you were 17, and you thought you had gotten over him, but maybe you haven’t

iv. deb shopping

part 1 part 2 part 3

i had no clue what was going on with conrad, why he was acting so different this summer, making me wonder what happened to the same conrad who would go on and on about infinity.

i slept in that morning, because of the fact that i stayed up way too late at that bonfire, but i eventually got up since i had work today.

when i went downstairs, dressed in a white lifeguard tank top, and red shorts, laurel, steven, and jeremiah were downstairs.

conrad was on the couch, and jere was making a 'hangover smoothie' for him, while steven was standing behind him, looking over his shoulder.

"do we really have to physically sit for our portraits?" jeremiah complained to laurel. "can't she just- look at a picture on her phone or something?"

"right?" i agreed with him.

jeremiah backed up a little from steven, having enough of him hovering over him. "okay, get out." jeremiah pointed at the door.

steven laughed. "what. why?"

"she needs to see you in the flash to capture you essence." laurel said, fixated on her laptop. "while you're still young, and full of hope."

"so poetic, mom." i joked, while steven and jeremiah laughed.

"her words." laurel rolled her eyes at us with a smile.

"well, conrad does not have hope, actually. he's hopeless." jeremiah insulted, causing me to laugh a little. "but! my hangover smoothie, it cures all."

"can you please just hurry up." conrad rushed him from the couch.

"just go back to bed. alright?" jeremiah shot back to him, and steven started looking over his shoulder again.

jeremiah put a hand on steven's chest. "alright, seriously, steven. get out. this is a delicate science."

"she hasn't painted you since you were little. i think it would be nice to have these portraits for when you're older." laurel added in.

"oh, no." steven joked. "when i'm older, they'd have like, holograms i can watch of myself, you know."

"or, this is why we have technology." i say. "where we have pictures? on our phones?"

jeremiah started the blender, causing conrad to jolt awake.

"just sit for your portraits." laurel told me and steven. "you don't see conrad complaining.

"he'll complain when he's actually conscious." i shot back at laurel.

jeremiah went to the couch and tapped conrad. "hey. here."

"come on, man. hurry your ass up, i can't be late to my first day of work." steven rushed jeremiah. "those little country club boomers are gonna tip me so hard they won't know what hit 'em!"

i made a disgusted look at steven. "ew. steven, i swear."

"come on, y/n." jeremiah laughed. "my boys gotta get that bread."

"stop." i shook my head at him.

i look over to see belly walking in the kitchen, and i give her a small smile.

"good morning." jeremiah says to her in an enthusiastic tone.

"belly, where have you been?" laurel asks her in a serious tone. "is that a bruise."

belly stands next to me and i run my fingers over the bruise. "mom, relax, she tripped when we were at the bonfire and landed on her face." i lied, i knew belly wouldn't wanna tell the actual story

"doesn't look that bad." conrad said from the couch, i look over at him, and made eye contact with him for a few seconds before returning my focus back to belly.

"uh, cereal?" jeremiah asked belly.

"yeah, hit me." belly softly responded.

"oh, my god!" susannah ran into the kitchen. "belly and y/n are going to be debutantes!" she hugged both of us.

belly laughed. "it's really not that big of a deal."

i'd forgotten all about the whole deb thing. it'd be hard trying to balance a summer job and being a deb, on top of that, i'd have to find a date.

"i'm sorry, like those two? my sisters, right there?" steven teased us.

"shut up, cretin!" i shot back.

"okay, this is going to be so much fun!" susannah fantasized. "just you wait. there's the tea, the auction, the- ball, of course.. i gotta write this down. we need to go shopping!"

"this sounds expensive." laurel said.

"oh, don't worry, laur, it's on me." susannah smiled. "it was my idea after all."

"y/n, are you sure you wanna do this?" laurel asked me. "it doesn't seem very you."

in truth, not really. but if it made susannah happy, it made me happy. i had to do it for her.

"it's not." conrad, once again, added his two cents from the couch.

i don't know how he went from how he used to act towards me to.. this.

"conrad, could you please be a little more supportive?" susannah told him. "now, which one of you are gonna be belly or y/n's escort to the ball."

"not me." conrad immediately responded.

"shocker." i say, in a sarcastic tone.

"i went last year." conrad finished his sentence.

"me neither. i swore off balls." jeremiah told us, causing steven to laugh. "the dances dude!" jeremiah said, laughing.

"wow, guys!" i say, sarcastically. "stop fighting over us."

"i'm not going with either of you." belly finally spoke up. "i am going to find my own date.

"it says debutantes require instruction, morals, and social etiquette." laurel read off her laptop.

"i'm going for a swim." conrad leaves through the back door, as i watched him go.

"yeah, y/n could use some etiquette." steven laughed.

"and you wonder why you don't have a girlfriend." i rolled my eyes.

all the sound drowned out as i watched conrad from the window, in his shorts, and no shirt on. i missed how things used to be.

i felt a hand on my shoulder. "you alright, y/n?" jeremiah asked me.

"yeah." i tried push aside anything feelings. "we should probably go soon."

"wait." susannah spoke up. "before you go, we have shopping to do!"

"seriously?" i asked. "i have work. i'm not going shopping."

but that wasn't true. susannah is a really convincing person, so before i knew it, i was shopping around stores with susannah, laurel, and belly, for the debutante thing.

i tried on different dresses, all colors, and different accessory's, hats, sunglasses, and bow, bags over my hands and arms.

then, i had to try on a debutante dress, i found a beautiful white long dress, i loved it, but maybe conrad and laurel were right. this whole thing was not my scene.

what have i done?

ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚ ੈ✩‧₊˚

END OF CHAPTER

[penvisions]

the melting point {chapter 16}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: In the aftermath of a rather eventful and terrifying last summer farmer's market, you try to find a semblance of normalcy as best you can. Meanwhile, Frankie is up to something that is beginning to cause you to worry about the burden you've become in your recovery.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: medical jargon, mild language, emotional monologues, internal monologue, negative feelings, negative thoughts, ptsd symptoms, pining, emotional pining, depressive thoughts, description of pain and injuries, blood, descriptions of post shooting chaos, panic attacks, notions of death, hospital setting, mentions of needles and iv's, mentions of narcotics, use of prescription narcotics, feelings of inadequacy, angst

A/N: um, so it's been four months since i've touched this fic, then i woke up yesterday morning and just began writing like nothing. takes breaks when you need to, don't force things and it'll all work out. please let me know what y'all think!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“C’mon, hang on for me baby, please, don’t-don’t close your eyes.”

“Mantequilla, everything is gonna be okay, I promise, we’re all here for you, please know that everything is going to be okay.”

“We’ve got you, you did so good, you saved my little girl, you did, you saved her.”

“Honey, we all love you so much, please stay strong, I’ll hold your hand the entire way there.”

“Let’s get you turned over, ma’am, c’mon. There we go, you’re doing amazing.”

“Santi, she-she-“

“Papa!! Papa, please help her, I love her! Tio Santi, do something!!”

“Merde, that’s so much blood, Frankie you’ve gotta focus, you’ve gotta calm her down. Get her home safe, to your mother’s, somewhere safe.”

“Will!! They got her, call Morgan! She went missing the second things got crazy.”

“Has anyone seen Benny?”

“They’re transporting her now, rushing her to surgery the second the get there.”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, any donations with the same blood type would be appreciated. Who here is a positive?”

“Sweet girl, please, you’ve got to pull through, I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

“No response, it’s been how many days now?”

“She’s being rushed into another surgery, she keeps clotting. They can’t figure out why.”

“Fransico Morales? You’re next of kin?”

“No, no, but we’re all she has. Her family is flying out, they’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Taylor, take a moment, it’s…it’s a lot to take in.”

“Daddy, why is tia all tangled in those machines, she’s going to be okay, right?”

“This is my son, he wanted to come and cheer her up because she always did the same for him when he was sick.”

“Please, mi amor, please, you have to make it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Fractered memories played over each other, words echoing and bouncing off of each other through the fog that was all you knew. You couldn’t feel anything, all of your senses stripped away, and you were nothing more than a half-conscious mind tunneling in and out of suspended darkness.

Beeping, an even beeping was the only steady thing you could make out. Sense of environment completely gone and sense of awareness slowly trickling in. Your eyes hurt as you slowly blinked them open, the faint lights around you too bright and you clenched them shut with a huff that pulled at your lungs. The stillness of where you were was shattered as the clattering of a chair sounded, followed by a pair of hands tightening around yours that were settled over your middle. A hushed order to go fetch someone and then a deep voice was rumbling close. You turned your head toward the presence hovering close to your left side, drawn to whoever it was.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, sweet girl.”

A grunt sounded from deep in your chest as you tried to open your mouth and respond. Then a gasp when pain reverberated from the same spot. You tried to shift your legs, hips feeling oddly numb but you couldn’t quite feel them. It was as if they were asleep, but… you cracked your eyes open a second time, squinting down the length of the bed you were in. Your legs were there, obvious underneath the thin, knit, scratchy blankets that only a hospital possessed. You tried to shift again, but even your hips didn’t feel like a part of your body. Your eyes flew open completely, tearing up at the brightness of the room.

Shuddering breaths pulled deep hurt, but you tried to shift again and again but there was no movement underneath the blanket. None.

“Okay, alright, querida, please. Take a deep breath, it’s-it’s gonna be okay.” Frankie. It had been Frankie speaking to you, close to you. His hands reached out for your own, where you had pried them from him to try and prop yourself up, wires and tubes pulling, clattering against each other and making your head swim. “The doctors-“

“I know this must be quite a shock, but it’s good that you’re awake!” A white coat, thrown over a modest skirt and blouse, blonde hair. A kind face, pinched. A furrowed brow. Bad news on the tip of her tongue.

You tried to speak, demand why you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. But you could only croak out the faintest notions of words. Everything was a blur, the hospital room you were in a mess of blue and white, the beeping of machines hurting your ears. Nothing made any sense, confusion coloring every thought as to how you got here and why.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, your body is pretty weak right now. Can I get a level two meal delivered to room thirteen eighty-nine, please?” She turned to address someone who had been hidden behind her, a nurse in teal scrubs.

“Tell me.” You managed to croak out, eyes fixated on her pinched ones.

“I would really prefer to get you a little acclimated.”

“No.”

Her eyes flickered toward Frankie, as if in a silent plea to get him to calm you down and put you at ease however little he could manage. But you ignored the warm weight of his hand on your shoulder, eyes trained on the doctor in front of you as you tried to find more strength to speak around the dry cotton feel of your mouth, the panging hunger that was present in your stomach, the lack of control over your body.

She sighed, arms holding the clipboard in front her in an imitation of a fig leave over her hips.

“We had you in a medically induced coma for the last two weeks. I’m not sure all of what you remember, the brain is fickle that way, pushing things and events out in response to trauma.” She didn’t look from you as the sound of fast steps approached the door, nor when a large figure moved passed her and came straight to your right side. It was Taylor. Both of the most important men in your life on your sides. He was quiet, but you could see the evidence of tears in the puffiness of his eyes, the lack of a smile on his face as he hovered close.

“You were hit in the sacrum and coccyx region, paralyzing you from the waist down. We performed three surgeries to remove the bullet shards and repair as much of the damage as possible. Your blood flow and reflex reactions have improved but we had no way of knowing if anything truly worked until you woke. A week has passed since we stopped inducing you, we were beginning to think you might not wake up.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, medical terms floating heavy in the air of the room. Daunting, terrifying, life altering. You didn’t think you could handle another life altering event of this caliber. But it didn’t look like you had to traverse it alone. You teared up once the doctor left the room, offering to come back and talk to you once visiting hours were over, though she had mildly glared at both men as she said it. But knowing them both, they had been alternating staying the night to watch over you past the set hours that allowed for them to be present.

You had two wonderful men who were willing to do anything for you, one with a friend group who would follow his lead and the other who had given you so much already. You hoped it wouldn’t be too much, taking what they were willing to give.

“It’s a lot,” Taylor’s voice broke, his words spoken through eyes glittering with tears. His hands tight around yours as he leaned his forehead against yours, completely in your personal space. “But we’ve done somethin’ like this before and we can do it again. We can do it again.”

You could only nod, throat and voice still weak from weeks of disuse.

He walked closer to the side of the bed, the man’s large build shadowing over you in the dimmer setting of the lights you had requested. The full effect of them too bright for you eyes after being unconscious for so long. You reached out to him, urging him to sit atop it as best he could as you all but threw yourself at him. He let you, aware of Frankie standing close to the other side, eyes watering as he heard the cries that began to bubble up from you.

“I-I-“

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re both here.” Taylor murmured, as he wrapped his own arms around you to pull you close. He smelled like your apartment, a mix of faint buttercream and the rose perfume you favored all rolled into one comforting scent. His own masked by the time he had been in town. “Alfred was here too, but he had to be taken back for school. He sat with you every day for that first week and read to you. He was so worried about you, mami. He kept talking with you like he always does, hoping you would wake up and respond.”

Frankie excused himself, his phone beeping in his pocket and the sound of you crying too much for him to handle all at once. You watched him leave the room, his shadow visible through the blinds in the window looking into the room as he paced up and down the hallway just outside. His voice a low murmur as he spoke with whoever had been trying to contact him.

“I didn’t mean to scare him…or you. I’m so sorry, that call – it must’ve been so terrifying.” You hiccupped into his chest, unable to stop the tears and emotions from flowing all at once, overwhelmed and completely at a loss of how to respond to anything at the moment.

Hushed words eradicated any ill thoughts you were having of yourself, comforting in their genuine indication. He assured you he had been able to handle it, that he was able to handle the hard things that came along with being bonded with someone for life, for knowing someone for so long. For having already done something similar before. But yeah, that it had been scary but Frankie had been as detailed and direct as he needed to be, levelheaded in his description of what had happened and what immediately happened afterwards.

Frankie came up to you both as he entered back into the room, a hand on both your shoulders to get your equal attention. You looked up at him with watery eyes, feeling so proud of how everyone was trying to keep it together for you but guilty at the same time since it had been something they had been dealing with for weeks now.

“That was the airline, they need someone to come in and take over a few tours for double pay. I wouldn’t normally turn them down and I will if you need me here. You’re awake now and I want to be here with you.”

“Y-you should go, if you want to, if you need to.” Scratchy words spoken with what little conviction you could muster. He was conflicted, worried about making the wrong decision.

“You need me here.” He didn’t argue so much as read the thoughts in your mind as clearly as if you had displayed for him to see. “You want me here.”

“Yes, but….money is money, Frankie. For your house, for your daughter, for everything. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’m gonna run and get a coffee before you head out, I’ll stay the night, okay?” Taylor announced before he pressed a kiss to your temple and stood. Leaving you and Frankie truly alone for the first time since you woke up. You reached out to the man, gripping his open flannel shirt and lightly pulling him toward you. But he didn’t budge, his feet stable on the ground and his back not leaning to meet you. He wasn’t looking quite at you, but just beyond you. His eyes a little distant.

“I’m sorry.” Pulling your hands back to rest in your lap, you began to twiddle your fingers, unsure of what to do, unsure of why he was acting so weird and distant. Maybe he was just exhausted, mentally wiped out from waiting and waiting for you to wake up. Maybe…he was rethinking everything he’s once promised you…

“Hey, no, you don’t have to be sorry.” His eyes caught your own, his hands reaching out to hold your own as he kneeled down to be at your eye level. Emotions you couldn’t read swirling behind them. “I just- It’s just… you’re awake. And I’m so scared I’m going to open my eyes or wake up and you’ll still be unconscious…or passed.”

“I am awake.” You insisted, worried about this being an elaborate dream all the same. Some made up fantasy your brain concocted in its last moments and none of it was real, that you weren’t real anymore.

“I want to stay,” He pleaded with you, desperate for you to understand how hard it is for him to make the decision to leave, to heed the call of an entire week’s worth of pay in just a few days. But he had a plan and he had to stick with it, it would be for the best in the long run.

“C-can you stay tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweet girl. I promise. I just- this is important. For the both of us. I swear.”

“I believe you, Frankie. I love you.” You lifted your intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles. He repeated the words before he shrugged his jacket on and bid you goodnight. He didn’t kiss you back, instead squeezing your hands twice in farewell.

“Hermosa, I-I just-“ Frankie hung his head, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees the next evening.

He had gone home to change and get a little sleep after a hectic two days of back to back tours. A touch restful now that he knew you were awake, but still fleeting. His thoughts had been a jumble as his mind flashed your unconscious form across the backs of his eyelids. Bleeding, hyperventilating, being rushed into emergency surgery not once but three times. Of you completely still save for the slight rise and fall of your chest laid out in the hospital bed. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing or diminish anything but- just thank you.”

“You saved her, at such a great risk to yourself. But you did, you saved my little girl when I couldn’t. I have endless love and admiration for you, querida. Please, I am here for you. I will help you with whatever you need or want. And not just because of this, but…but until you don’t want that anymore. You’ve got me, sweet girl. I promise.”

The conviction in his tone was strong despite the way his words were pushed out with deep breaths, trying to keep his composure. His shoulders were quaking with the effort he was holding back another wave of tears. Too many emotions for him to handle since the second you had rushed in front of that gun aimed at his daughter.

“Come here,” You softly compelled him, trying to shuffle atop the bed. Feeling still numb below the tops of your thighs, only some control over your legs that you were trying not to dissect. Going over your charts and test results had helped a little, compartmentalizing that it was happening to you and mind working to help solve and reason the things you read as if it was a patient of your own. Work. And a lot of it was ahead of you.

Frankie shuffled up and out of his shoes, choosing to urge you forward softly so he could be the one resting against the back of the angled bed. He helped to situate you against his chest, his arms coming around you in a warm embrace, the smell of his cologne and body wash puffing up and surrounding you in a comforting way. He pressed kisses to the crown of your head, nose shuffling in your hair and making you sigh out at the human contact.

“I would do it again, in a heartbeat. Even knowing what would happen.”

“Te amo. Te tango mucho amor ti, querida.” He whispered hoarsely in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. All you could do was repeat the words to him, meaning them with everything in your very being. Bringing his hands up to rest over your heart, palms flat over your chest, you both just laid there soaking up each other’s company.

His thoughts took over as you felt your breathing even, reaching over to silence the television that had been playing quietly in the corner where it was installed high on the wall.

‘Everything was so loud, a cacophony of too sharp frequencies grating on his ears as he watched the way your body fell to the ground. The man with the gun fleeing from the scene as soon as the gun had fired, steps heavy as he ran as fast as he could. Pope taking off immediately after him, his own gun pulled from the holster attached to his belt. Permission to carry it around off the clock from one of the local military bases where he worked as a freelance advisor.

Frankie was rushing too, toward you. Toward his daughter. Toward you both. There was a pool of blood forming beneath you, having twisted yourself to prevent from falling on top of Alexia’s smaller frame. She was kneeling beside you, tears running down her cheeks as you reached up to cup her face. A pinched expression on your features and blood blooming dark low on your front. His little girl turned to him as he crashed to his knees behind her and brought her in a crushing embrace to his chest, hearing the hum of the crowd that had begun to form all around.

Shouts to call 911 and responses that more than one person was already speaking with officers, telling them of what had just happened.

She begged him to help you.

She begged him to save you.

Shouting at him in her small voice that she loved you and she knew he loved you too.

She buried her face in his chest as he leaned forward to try and get your eyes to focus on him, but you were barely able to keep them open. Lashes fluttering as your breath became labored. He was speaking, words falling from him as he fell back on years of training. Pinging questions off one after the other, getting no response from you for even one. Unresponsive in the worst way, body completely laid out before him and eyes now completely closed. You could’ve been sleeping, as you were still for a fleeting moment.

But then you started to convulse, body fighting against the bullets that had landed deep in your body. He tried to tilt your head toward him, to avoid you biting on your tongue or choking on your own breath.

A new set of hands was taking over, gently ushering him away as paramedics appeared on the scene.

He could only hold tight to his sobbing daughter as he watched the two technicians tend to you. Your chest ceasing heaving at an alarming rate, your breath almost rattling as your lungs desperately tried to keep working.

Blinking rapidly, Frankie focused his eyes on his hands curled over the controls in front of him. He was flying, the landscape of the city and surrounding greenery, the ocean all laid out before him. He was okay, you were okay. Alexia was okay.

He was at work. He was okay.

His fingers twitched at the clueless ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ of the tourists clamoring for views outside the windows. Their voices coming in clear through the headsets they wore to match his own. Completely in their own world and no problems plaguing them. Carefree.

He was at work. He wasn’t okay.

He should’ve stayed with you.

He should’ve turned down the offer.

But he had run at the first opportunity. Unable to stop the events from replaying in his mind on a loop.

Preventing him from sleeping, preventing him from being able to look at you half the time. Seeing you as you had looked right after the attack, seeing you as they rushed you onto the ambulance, seeing you as your chest went completely still once loaded up. The way your body didn’t respond to the attempts of resuscitation.

Mind torturing him by projecting you laid out in an open coffin. Copper hair resting around your lifeless frame, beautiful face covered in the wrong shade of makeup, hiding the freckles that dotted your face from him. Forever closed eyelids hiding your bright eyes from him. Black dress hiding your soft skin from his twitching fingers, itching to trace the delicate ink that decorated your skin. A masterpiece taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

Shaking his head minutely, he shoved the fake notions out of his head and pivoted the helicopter toward the coast. Following and announcing the route for the tour that the people sat behind him had requested.

He was at work and he didn’t think he’d ever be okay again. But he would try for you, because you were awake and waiting for him to return to you.

He pulled his sunglasses from where the frames were hanging from his collar and covered his reddening eyes.’

“Come on, two more steps and we’re home free.” The physical therapist was encouraging in the most grating of ways. Your normally polite and civil personality being shattered by the turn of events your life had taken. It was a lot of work now, but it had been a lot of work to initially discover that you had only minimal feeling and control over your lower half. Hips sore no matter how much medicine was added to your IV, legs numb and unresponsive more often than not.

But that didn’t stop the doctor from putting you on a physical therapy track of two appointments per week. Something you had thought was a lot right off the bat but not wanting to argue. Just as angered by the quick pace as you were determined to stick to it. It was the second week since waking up, discharge looming like a storm over the horizon, visible but not yet tangible.

There had been talk about Taylor renting a home to move into for the duration of your recovery. His son being taken care of by his co-parent back home with school having started. But Frankie had offered up his own home, a flush to his caramel skin as he did so. Not having wanted to ask you to move in under such dire circumstances. But he would be lying if he said the thought of offering you a space in his home hadn’t been on his mind lately.

Taylor had offered to split his time between Frankie’s and the apartment above the shop. An outpouring of love from the community delivered to the shop and hospital in overwhelmingly equal parts. Baskets of treats, flowers, cards, vouchers for services from all around the city and local vendors. Everything was being toted back between the two spaces that were now yours.

Lex indulging in the treats as she sat with you in the afternoons after school. Homework laid out before her atop the bed as you helped her with her math and writing. Different people picking her up while Frankie returned to work, determined to put in as many hours before he took two whole weeks off to help you transition to being home once you were discharged.

But right now, you were stood on shaking legs, arms braced heavily on the bars on either side of you as you stood between the set up of the parallel bars. Sweat dripping from your hair thrown up in a haphazard bun, skin sallow from the medication you were on a strict rotation of. You had forgone shoes, insistent that you wanted to be able to feel anything should it come back to you while practicing.

Your arms were shaking, holding up the entirety of your body weight on them, muscles straining and tattoos looking distorted with the flex of them. With a huff, you shifted your hips, right leg lifting slightly and managed to shuffle it about a foot before placing your foot down flat and tipping forward to even your weight with the new stance.

“Alright, you did it!” The nurse was a kindly young man, his arms hovering behind you as he waited for you to tap out. But you sucked in a deep breath and concentrated. Shifting your left foot ahead in the same manner before a spike of pain shot up from the arch of it as you settled it flat on the mat.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, I’m out. That’s all I got.” You wavered, arms shaking and legs beginning to tingle where you could feel them.

“That’s okay, you did good today. Four steps is progress.” The nurse helped you, gathering your form in his arms and lifting to get the pressure off your aching shoulders.

Santi was in the room when you were wheeled back, no sign of Taylor or Frankie. He informed you that they were both taking care of something for you which made you feel a little uneasy that they hadn’t told you themselves the night before that they wouldn’t be in to see you today. The nurse let the man take over with helping you get back into the bed, knowing you’d rather it be someone who you knew handling you for something a little more intimate of a move.

The man’s broad shoulders tensed as he supported your nearly dead weight, completely at a loss of energy from the days activities.

“Did they say where they were going?” You inquired, voice soft as you nuzzled your face into the man’s neck. He smelled so good and you were just in a very physically affectionate mood in wake of not getting any direct attention from Frankie in the way you were too hesitant to ask for.

“Mante, you know I would tell you if I knew, but they were like school boys, shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact. I’m sure it’s just a surprise for you, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, allowing the man to situate your aching legs as best he could and covering you up with the blankets that had been brought from your apartment. He busied himself with getting a take out bag unpacked and placing containers over the collapsable table attached to the bed for you. A cup of coffee that smelled of caramel and foamed milk pressed gently into your reaching hands. He was so diligent, the soft curls of his graying hair falling over his forehead as he focused. When everything was set up, he settled into the chair beside the bed with his own container and began to dig in.

But you were still, only a sip taken from the hot coffee handed to you.

“Santi…”

“What is it, hermosa?” He looked up from his food, utensils loaded up and a bite halfway to his lips. “I get the wrong thing?”

“No,” A small smile offered to him as your heart fluttered in your chest, unsure of how to even broach the concerns that were crashing over you in overwhelming waves. “No, this is great. Thank you.”

The man watched you, eyes scanning your face as you averted your eyes. He let out a quiet sigh and set down his utensils completely, asking you to tell him what was really on your mind.

“Frankie…he, um, he-“ You felt like a complete idiot as your face heated up, tears welling in your eyes unbidden. Foolish question, it was such a foolish thing to be worried about when the man’s words were nothing but reassuring and loving. “Why won’t he kiss me, Santi?”

“Is that what you need right now?”

You warbled out an affirmative. Feeling for all the world like a pathetic lovesick fool even surrounded by everyone who you could possibly need in your life right now, everyone working together to help you in any way possible.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

A shake of your head was all the answer you could muster up.

“He’s probably just trying to respect you, not wanting to put pressure on you to be that way with him if you’re too overwhelmed.” Santi went on to explain that his best friend had trouble with stuff like this, showing his affection and feelings in wake of traumatic events.

That you should try not to worry too much, though he knew that was easier said than done. To not take it personally, but he admitted to knowing that might be hard to do as well, everything so much at the moment. He reminded you that you could reach out to you with anything at any time. He would try his best to be there for you in any way that he could. Even jokingly offering to pepper kisses over your face and approaching you with overly pursed lips until you erupted into a laughing fit at how ridiculous he looked as he loomed closer. He sealed the conversation with a genuine press of his lips to the corner of your mouth, his hands cradling your face in their warmth before he moved back to his seat and ordered you to eat.

Across town, Taylor and Frankie had a similar conversation as a bell dinged above them where it was nestled in the doorway to a shop front. The two men determined to surprise you with something that Frankie had quietly brought up one night following your first rush into emergency surgery. An approval of sorts he had been seeking after was granted instantaneously with a smile and words of encouragement from the only other man he felt like he could share the conversation with at the moment.  

“Discharge papers should be processed by end of day, looks like you’ll be spending the night in your own bed.” The doctor offered you a small smile. She had been worried about having you under her care when she found out you were a once trained medical technician, knowing how bad of a patient she was when sick herself. But you had surprised her, not talking over her or voicing opinions on what needed to be done. It had been another week, progress made in physical therapy.

You were able to walk the length of the parallel bars, slowly and with a lot of huffing and puffing. But it cleared you for outpatient treatment. The feeling in your legs was spotty, coming to you mostly in the mornings when you first woke up and at the end of the day after resting for a few hours. Something she was only mildly worried about, muscle atrophy from being unconscious for so long lingering even now.

But she had been confident that the feeling would come back completely, though she was honest when she said she was worried about numbness flaring up.

That’s how you found yourself seated in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck as he pulled into the drive of his house. He was waiting for the garage to open, in order to make it easier for you to walk straight into the laundry room instead of having to attempt to tackle the stairs to the front door. Everyone would be over tomorrow, to celebrate your release. Giving you a free night to settle in and mentally deal with the shift in environments. Lex would be at her grandparents so Frankie could focus on getting you settled.

“One moment, just…want to get something set up before I help you out, okay?” His earnest gaze widened his beautiful eyes, watching you and making sure you were alright to be left alone for a moment. He was through the door and back in the garage in a matter of minutes, a shy smile aimed at you as he helped you down and got a walked ready for you. It had a cushioned seat in the middle, in case you needed to take any breaks when trying to move about. Something you wanted to argue but didn’t have a good one against.

You felt…weird. Having to rely on him so much, but extremely grateful that he was willing to. You’d seen friendships and relationships fall apart with this much stress and similar situations. Both as a professional and a civilian, as a friend. You only hoped this wouldn’t be one of the last things he did for you before telling you it was too much, that you were too much. Love could only encompass so much before it wasn’t enough to hold two individuals together.

Melancholic and depressive thoughts abundant as you tried to come to terms with what the near future would hold for an unknowable amount of time. There was no timeline with things like this and that’s what worried you the most. What if you had flares of numbness for the rest of your life, what if he began to see you as a burden, as work he had to come back to after doing his shifts at the mechanics and his flying tours. What if all your progress was meaningless and you woke up one day with no feeling at all?

He had hushed you on more than one occasion with soft words, promises he wouldn’t do that. Promises that he was yours, that you were his, that you were in this together. But doubt crept in regardless. Even more so in the realization that he hadn’t wanted to kiss you. He was quick to dodge your advances, placing placating touches of his lips to your hair instead; of pulling you tighter to his body instead. Almost as if he was hesitant to show you affection in that way and it was hard to handle when all you wanted was that type of comfort from the man you loved so completely.

His hands were warm as he supported your weight, but he didn’t shift you down to the ground completely, instead he pulled you flush against him. Your own arms tightened around his neck, feet barely touching the ground as he ducked his head to kiss you fully for the first time since you woke up in that hospital bed. You melted into him even more, welcoming his lips against yours reverently, desperately.

The plush give of them against your own feeling like a true welcome home.

Shifting your hands up into his soft hair, you knocked the cap clear of his head as you parted your lips for him. He held you tight, not risking you putting too much weight on your own feet for even a second as he kissed you again and again, lips meeting yours in a dizzying display of his unfettered affection. Pulling at his curls, you pivoted his head to deepen another kiss, desperate for his touch and his taste. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back slightly to rest his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes slowly, watching the way his face was completely relaxed. The lines of his age smoothed out slightly as he moved to peck one last kiss to your slick lips.

He had set the table up before picking you up, at home during the day as he had received your hopeful text about the paperwork this morning. But he had run inside to pull everything from where it was keeping warm in the oven, lighting twin tapers set in the middle of the dining table. You tried to hide the squeal of surprise as he lifted you up completely, choosing to carry you bridal style over the threshold of the house and through the laundry room and into the kitchen.

“Frankie, you didn’t have to do all this.” You placed a kiss to his cheek as he carefully set you down into a chair, making sure your legs were situated how you wanted them. “I woulda been happy with a fast-food drive thru, you know that.”

“I know, but I wanted to do something special for you.” He moved over to the closest chair, settling down into it with a sigh. He looked nervous, you realized as you took in the dinner had had made before picking you up. One of your favorite dishes filling the kitchen with its tantalizing scent. The boys had snuck in food from time to time, but it had mostly been bland hospital food for a majority of the last three weeks.

Frankie cleared his throat, your eyes lifting from the items on the table and toward him.

In his hands was an emerald velvet box, open to reveal a simple gold band with a sparkling rhombus diamond in the middle.

Your lips parted, a gasp falling from them as your heart stuttered hard in your chest. Hands dropping the utensils you had just picked up clattered to the table and you stared across the table at him. At a complete loss for words as he nervously shifted in his seat and leaned closer toward you to take your hands in his own, the small box set down gently beside your plate. His hands were shaking slightly, his nerves obvious as he bared his soul to you with his next words.

“Sweet girl, I know things are going to be touch and go for a long while,” He took a deep breath, chest pulling the fabric of his shirt taut with the action. His tongue peaked between his lips, a habit you noticed when he had a lot on his mind, and he was trying to sort through everything. “But I don’t want you to worry about anything to do with us, with you and me. You have me, you have me until the moment you decide you don’t anymore. I hope you don’t ever change your mind because I’ve been gone on you since the second you aimed that glare in my direction all those months ago. Will- will you do the honor of marrying me?”

Tears welled up the longer you looked at him, his eyes so wide and open, his voice cradling you with his earnest words. All you could do was nod, voice caught in your throat.

He let out a deep exhale, pulling a giggle from you when he broke out into the widest, goofy smile you had seen on him yet. You mirrored him, lips pulling as you squeezed his hands and leaned forward to rest your forehead against them clasped together.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Fransisco. Of course.” You kissed the tops of his hands, one and then the other before you were pushing yourself up slightly, tentatively placing weight on your legs and surging forward to kiss him.

He only let you get away with one before he was standing from his seat and kneeling in front of you with the box in his hands. He carefully removed the ring from its spot nestled safely inside the velvet cushion and you held out your left hand for him. It took a second for him to place it securely on your ring finger, snug and perfect against your skin. It glittered in the candlelight and you felt a tear run down your cheek.

Frankie’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips connecting with yours as he chuckled breathlessly at having managed to pull out the surprise proposal. At your resounding yes. At the prospect of a concrete future with you.

“I love you so much, thank you for...for everything.”

“I love you too, you dork,” Your laugh sparkled against his parted lips. “I can’t believe you just thanked me for agreeing to marry you.”

“Well, you could’ve said no.”

“Not in a million years.”

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

[xtrafluffyteddy]

Secret weapon

Platonic!141 x avatar kaiju!reader

Okay okay so I got inspired by watching Godzilla and avatar so imagine the reader is an avatar driver but their avatar is a kaiju that 141 only uses when their big threats like monsters

Callsign: Spiritfarer

The last thing the 141 expected was another word ending threat to resurface especially not in the form of giant mutant bug like creatures. It had been years decades even since something of that magnitude had made itself known again, but the radiation spikes don’t lie neither does the seismic activities that are spiking on every military radar

“Boys you know what we have to do” price said urgently during their briefing as he pushed classified files towards each of his men “wake them up? Are you sure that’s safe captain” gaz asked concern in evident in his voice as he read over the files “we’ve kept them asleep for so long what if they don’t wanna work on our side” Ghost warns as he tries to find the logic in waking you up again after you just barely won the battle last time “are yae sure tae can handle it captain” soap wonders as he stares at a Polaroid of your face taken moments after you defeated Cerberus

At the end of the day it didn’t matter what they thought, they had to wake you up so you could save the world again being the only successful kaiju avatar driver you were their only shot. “Wake em’” Price commands gruffly as they all stand around your metal box only the rhythmic beeping of your heart monitor filling the room.

With a gasp you wake up staring around in shock wondering why you’ve been awoken from your cryosleep “wha- what happened?” You question raspily throat dry and itchy from lack of use “we need ya Spiritfarer” soap sighs not knowing how you’ll react to the current situation “for what? What’s happening” you press as you stand up stretching out your aching muscles “Two unknown bug like kaiju have been spotted in Asia, type unknown but they are capable of knocking out the power they’ve already made land fall we’ve tried every other measure but your our only hope left” Ghost sighs as he hands you your uniform.

As they get the pod ready the boys catch you up on what you’ve missed, who’s with them and who’s not and recent missions they’ve been on “it’s time” Price grunts as he and ghost help you stand up escorting you to your pod soap and gaz following close behind “remember spiritfarer minimal damage minimal casualties fight as hard as you can and we will try our best to help you” all you can do is nod as you focus on the task at hand “copy captain”

With a hug from soap and a pat on the back from Ghost and Price they hook you into your machine making sure everything is online and ready to go “patch me in boys” with that your eyes slip closed as you slip under your conscious slipping into your kaiju.

Price and ghost watched the cams as your kaiju emerged from the mountains forgetting just how big you actually were “fucking Christ” soap murmurs as he watches “they are huge” gaz mumbles staring in awe at your giant form that almost seemed to pulse with an electrical energy “go get ‘em spirit” price commands as your kaiju takes off running towards the threats

They were worthy advisories as you continued tirelessly to fight against them taking hit after hit and ignoring the pain of their sharp beaks tearing at your skin. “COME ON SPIRIT” Price yells as he watches you fight valiantly against the creatures “KICK SOME ASS” soap shouts as you swing hard sending the other kaiju flying into the side of a building with a roar you grasp the monsters jaws ripping them open and tearing it in half only leaving one enemy left “keep fighting Spiritfarer” ghost grunts as he watches your body twitch in its machine.

People watched on in horror as the two titans clashed and ripped at each other destroying buildings and homes “come on come on come on” gaz whispers as he watches you get knocked down your body running out of energy to keep fighting “we gotta help em” soap gasps as he rushes to get into a helo “I’m gonna drop some bombs distract the thing give spirit enough time to recoop and finish this once and for all

With the help of soaps bombs and gunshots the bug creature turned towards him ready to take him down until it was caught off guard by you latching onto its neck sinking your sharp teeth in as deep as they could go ripping it out as your claws sunk into its soft underbelly. “LETS FOCKIN GO” Soap cheers as he flies back to base leaving you to finish it off. With a deep breath you start lighting up purple prying open the monsters mouth spitting pure energy into its throat causing it disintegrate in your claws. You had won the threats were eliminated and you could finally rest again.

Once your kaiju was safely back in its containment you were woken up by price and soap lifting you from your pod hugging you tightly and congratulating you on your victory. “You did well kid” Ghost smirks under his mask patting your back. “I’m ready to go back to sleep now boys” you mumble tiredly as they helped lay you back in your cryochamber “wake me up when y’all wanna have a drink or somethin yeah?” With that the boys put you back to sleep proud of you for saving the world once again and deciding they’d wake up again but next time just to hang out and show you the world again.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

The growls outside seemed to fade into a roar of white noise. Your vision blurred and you’d try to blink it clear, but it never seemed to sharpen again.

“Hey. Y/N, listen to me,” Daryl said urgently, leaning down over you. “Stay awake. I need ya to stay awake, okay?” You had a serious concussion and Daryl was worried that if you went to sleep you might not wake up...

You were struggling to stay conscious. Your head felt like there was a knife stuck into it. “I’m just so—so tired,” you murmured. Your eyes closed. “Hey! No, no, no! C’mon! Ya gotta fight it! I need ya to stay awake!” Daryl’s rough hands clasped your face and brushed your hair back. His voice was desperate. Your eyes open again. “Good. Good, just look at me alrigh’?”

A vague smile tugged on your lips despite the seriousness of the situation. “At least my view is good,” you said, fixing your fuzzy eyes to his blue ones.

Daryl shook his head at you, anxiety nearly overwhelming him. “Ya musta hit your head even harder than I thought,” he joked wryly. “Just keep your eyes on me, okay?” He still had your face clasped gently in his hands. It gave you something to focus on besides the pain in your pounding skull. “I’m gonna get us both outta here. Yer gonna be fine. I promise.”

“I know you’d never lie to me, Daryl Dixon,” you breathed. 

“Never.”

Prompt: “Stay awake.”

[bettysupremacy]

The Cheerleader Curse pt. 2

summary When the party gets too much, somehow you end up face to face with a familiar metal head

w/c 1.2k

a/n I only tagged people who specifically asked for pt 2 <3 could be read as a stand-alone! also idk how I feel about this writing of mine

In the end, you had gone to Tina’s party.

The kids plans tangled, they messily read We want Steve to take us.

So currently, sitting firmly on the cold marble island, you watch Carol pour you punch. Warm and stingy, it splashes over the sides messily, drawing a trail of liquid down the cup, onto the counter, where it puddles into a stain.

“You’re making a mess.” You nudge Carol with your foot. She turns, hair wild, cheeks tinged pink.

“It’s a party!” She grins, sloshing the drink towards you. “They’ll have more to clean than some punch.”

Your nose scrunches defiantly at the pungent smell wafting from the red cup. “This is rancid.”

“It’s good!” She coaxes. “Y’just gotta get used to it!”

“Used to what?” Tina pops into the kitchen, wearily frowning at the messy countertops.

“The punch.”

“Oh,” Her eyes roam away from the mess, and back to yours. Giggles start to peel at the sight of your face. “You’ll never get used to that.”

“Thanks,” You frown. “But no thanks.” Your fingers gently slide the full cup away from you.

Carol glares, shiftng Tina into something of a reprimanded little sister. What? She mouths, shrugging and looking away.

Regretfully, she slinks out of the kitchen.

Carols eyes make their way back to you, laughing softly when you push her face away, palm smooshing into the fat of her cheek. “What’s up?”

“Huh?”

“What’s up?” Carol repeats, teasing smile playing. Her eyes scrunch. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

You cringe at her bluntness. “I’m having fun!”

A shriek of a laugh slips from her lips. “You lying bitch!”

“Am not!”

“You’re totally miserable!”

You laugh at her exaggeration. “I’m totally fine!”

She shrugs seemingly fine with your fraudulent answer. Dropping the interrogation, she picks at your jeans in the contentedness of the silence.

“Y/N?” Carol gently frowns, fingers kneading into your knees.

“What?” You look up at her attention.

“Are you okay?”

“What?” You repeat, startled at the bluntness that edges her voice.

“Are you waiting for someone?” She pushes, “You’re shifty.”

“Shifty?”

“You keep looking over there.” She shakes her head in the direction of the front door. “You can’t already be plotting your escape.” She lightens with an easy smile.

You stop, guilty and caught. “I’m just tired.” You heave a sigh, warm minty air hitting Carol. “Can I get some air? Outside? I’ll come back in. Play beer pong with you.”

She smiles, satisfied with your honesty, concerned with the look in your eye. “Yeah, babe,” She breathes. “Don’t go far.”

You nod, smiling at the way she pats your knee before you drop off the counter.

Tommy strides to Carol, arm dropping over her shoulders heavily. The couple watches you head out. “What was that about?”

Carol sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, and shaking her head.

Outside is cool, but humid. The chill seeps into your skin, then warms it with the warm air seeping through the open windows of the house.

You walk further, further than you know Carol would like you going, but not far enough to leave the yard. It’s as quiet as it can be with a party alive 30 feet away. The bass still tingles your toes out here.

You walk to the side of the house, desperate for more of the chill that slowly works into your fingers, but you’re not alone. You back up, conscious of Carols warning, scared of the figure in front of you. Tall and long limbed, it doesn’t face you as you slowly back away, scared to grab its focus.

But you’re foot catches in the tiny rocks, and a rough inhale catches his attention. Ragged and sharp, it startles him over the thrum of music.

The boy flicks ash away from you, then, ultimately drops the cig to the ground, smashing it meanly with his boot.

“You okay?” He can’t decide wether to help or not. You hadn’t much liked him the last time you’d met.

“Yeah,” You choke back, the gravel sticks into your palms that crush down. “M’great.”

He drops down to his knees decidedly, helping you ease the weight of your hands off the pavement. With great heaviness, he takes your hands into his own to inspect. Gravel sticks where blood licks your skin. He hisses through his teeth.

The first good look at his face shows the worst. It’s Eddie.

“That hurts.”

“Yeah,” You frown.

“Should we go in?” He murmurs, thumbing at it curiously. “Find a first aid?”

You look up at him, lips parting softly as you take him in. He’s much more pretty in this lighting. Pretty features softened by the haze of party lights shining in from a window.

His thumb snags as he brushes rubble from your palms, snagging again when you pull back in shock. Sucking through your teeth, the haze of his pretty lips breaks, and the expression on your face reels him back.

“I can clean my own hands and drive my own kids around, you know.”

Vaguely, he registers he’s embarrassed you. “I know.”

“So I don’t need you to be doing that for me.”

His mouth opens to answer, but you don’t let him.

“So next time Dustin needs a ride I’m fully capable of doing it myself.”

Wait.

“Wasn’t that tonight?”

You pause, stumped by his memory. Selective, you think. “Yes,” You allow. “It was, but-“

“So what are you doing here?”

You huff at his interruption. “I’ve got it covered.”

“Sure you do.” He scoffs, standing. His knees ache fully from the crouch.

You scoff back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” He starts, brushing his hands against his rough jeans. “I gotta go pick them up since you’re occupied.”

“I said I had it covered.”

“Who’s covering it for you?” His sarcastic tone irks you. “The cab driver? You drop them off with a $20?”

Wow, you think, he’s a dick.

“Steve has it handled, thanks.” You stand, dully aware of the throb in your hands.

“Harrington?” He laughs meanly. It cracks at you. “Oh, yeah, they’re in safe hands.”

Your arms cross coldly. “Don’t talk about him like that.”

“Whatever,” He snarks, turning towards the backyard. “I have shit to be selling.”

“Whatever,” You snark back. “It’s not like I wanted your help anyways.”

You turn on your heel, straight to the front door. The closer you get, the closer you feel the bass thrumming in your skin.

“Fine!” You hear him yell, it’s lost and muddled from the loudness of the party.

“Fine!” You shout back, hoping he heard it over the ruckus that’s sure to file a noise complaint.

Dully, you feel tears bubble up, angry and embarrassed. Maybe you wanted his help. You swipe at your dry cheeks roughly with your knuckles, pushing into the party. It’s amazing you hold it together so long, though by the time you reach the downstairs bathroom, Carol is standing there waiting. Word travels fast and crying girl towards bathroom spreads quicker.

She doesn’t have to ask, pulling you in tightly.

“Stupid boys,” She murmurs, hand in your hair. “Stupid, stupid, boys. Don’t let them get you you.”

You think, startled at her knowing-

“What happened to your hands?”

@astermath @armydrcamers @eggo-segual @strangerstilinski @avitute @munson-enthusiast @agirlsguidetolove

[flowering-thought]

Omg omg omg your Daisuke nsfw headcanons were everything I wanted and MORE!!! THANK YOU!!! If it's okay to submit another ask so soon after the last one, but could we get some HC of Daisuke with a girl with some extra padding? Aka plus sized

ALSO IM STEALING THE NAME SWEET ANON ITS MINE NOW

Aww I'd love to! We chubby babes gotta have that literature to include our pretty figures <3 Anyway sweet Anon if you want an emoji or a name feel free to take them and I'll start a list of my lovely anons with you there as the first one <3

I keep forgetting to link the picrew </3

Not edited

WARNING - MINORS DNI

Reader is AFAB and described with feminine words and also is chubby/plus sized

Yandere themes, implied murder,

⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚. ੈ ⋆｡˚.

Daisuke Kawahara

Headcannons w/ Chubby Reader

• Honestly? Daisuke doesn't care much about looks. All he worries about is your physical and mental health. And if you're happy then he's happy!

• But something about the clothes you wear that show just that right amount of curve makes him shiver at the thought of holding you.

• And cuddling with this man has honestly got to be the best thing-

• He loved holding you and cuddling with you. He understands that you may or may not be self conscious so he's careful on where he squeezes you with his hands. But boy does he love squeezing your hips.

• And he loves going shopping! He gives an honest opinion and always says something positive! And he doesn't mind if you like to dress masculine or feminine since he just loves to see you try things on ♡

• Sadly Japanese society can be pretty harsh on certain things. Same with some other Asian cultures who's focus is similar. But he doesn't let any of that bother him and glares at people to keep their mouths shut.

• And if someone does say something straight to you? Their going on a list to give to his little brother. Daisuke has his ways of getting rid of others that bother him.

• But one day, when you were having a rough day and ended up coming to his place crying, and he found out that some guys from your college class were making rude comments? I don't think you'll ever see him that angry often.

• Let's just say those boys moved away hm?

• After all its not like you know about the basement under his bar. And you won't ever need to because he's careful about what he let's you see.

• As for if you're ever just having a rough day where you don't love yourself as much as other days Daisuke will drop what he's doing to just come wrap you up in a blanket and watch some ghibli movies.

• Even if it's not self love issues and just plain mental health bringing you down he'll still drop everything to make sure you're okay.

• And no matter what, he supports you! Just so long as you're not breaking up with him or leaving him in any way.

• Also Daisuke will always try to make a good impression on your parents and friends. He needs them to approve of you staying in Japan with him after all!

• But if your family and friends are toxic let's just say digging up some blackmail on them with the help of his family is enough to fix those problems-

• And Daisuke will always make sure that you're eating good! While he can't cook for shit he does make sure you're able to buy food and stuff you need on a college student schedule.

• And if you feel uncomfortable qith him buying you stuff he does it in a roundabout way. He'll mention that he has too much or bought bulk of something by accident. Or he'll ask to come over to your dorm and come with groceries cause he wanted you to cook something for him since you know about his inability to cook. And if there's extra groceries he'll chop it up to being an accident-

• He also hates if you skip meals. How are you supossed to maintain your beautiful figure if you aren't eating right?

• Also can and will help you find stores that carry your sizes. He's good at looking for the right places and even goes beforehand to a shop without you just to make sure it's a good shop with an atmosphere you'll like.

• He's a big stalker so he works very hard to figure out your likes and dislikes. He wants to make sure you're always happy ♡

• He knows it's probably difficult being in a different country and getting used to the culture there, but he'll just make sure that you have the best time!

You need to like it there so you can stay with him forever after all.

[imtryingmybeskar]

Come Home Chapter Seventeen

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Word count: 4736

The aftermath of the trip out with Ellie. Obligatory disclaimers: I am not a medical professional and I have never experienced the ailments mentioned here. I just did my best with Google and imagination!

Warnings for medical stuff, blood and swearing.

Come Home

Chapter Seventeen - Like Breathing Methane

“…up…”

Pain.

“…on…"

Pressure.

“…please…”

A stinging sensation across your face shocks you. The world rushes back in a whirl of noise and unpleasant sensation and you groan.

“That’s it. Wake up. C’mon. You can do it.”

A young voice, childlike. Panicked. Ellie. Why was she-

“Nononono don’t fall asleep again!”

Another stinging blow at your cheek and this time your eyes fly open to see her worried, blood spattered face above you.

“Come on, dude. We have to go. You have to get up.”

Your breath comes heavy and sharp. Every inhale and exhale runs cold rivulets of agony from your shoulder across your back and neck.

“Fuck…” you groan.

“I know. But come on. Get up. I’m gonna pull you. And you have to get up. It’s gonna hurt like a fucker. But you gotta. And then we are going back to Jackson and you are definitely not dying.”

Was dying a possibility? Sure felt like it right now and you’re not sure if that sounds more like a reward than a threat. Your shoulder is freezing fire, your right arm completely without sensation and you don’t know which one you should be more concerned about. Ellie makes a grab for it and there’s the pain.

“Fuck. No,” you wheeze. “Other. Arm.”

“Can’t. Gotta be both. Come on. You can do this. And you gotta do it all the way. Get straight up. If you fall back….”

She’s being annoyingly insistent when all you want to do is sink back into blissful unconsciousness, but you don’t have the strength to argue. Or be slapped again.

“Alright. Brace yourself. On three,” she commands. "One...two..."

And on three you endure the worst physical pain you have ever experienced. Your body has no idea how to respond, merely blaring alarm signals through your frayed nerves at every opportunity and into every sense. You sweat, you want to vomit, the guttural sound that comes from your mouth doesn’t sound at all like you, you can’t breathe in, tears stream unbidden down your face, you’re afraid your bladder has let go, and crowning it all the utter wrongness of the sensation of something unyielding and curved moving through the meat of your body. Ellie tugs and pulls you up, up, ever up until finally you feel lighter, freer and suddenly the world is the right way up again. A slow, steady stream of sticky warmth begins to slide down your back and arm and you sway, dropping to one knee as your legs give out.

“On the horse. Get up. On the horse,” she is saying, but her voice is sounding far away again and you struggle to hear it over the pounding in your ears. She lifts you and much as you try not to lean on her tiny, thin body you have to as you are completely unable to sustain your own weight.

“It’s okay. You’ll be okay. Get on this side. No, not that side. You can’t move that arm you dumbass. Leg in the stirrup. And up!” She half pushes you into the saddle and you manage to swing your leg clumsily over the horse.

“I’m gonna lead us back. No more infected yet, but they might be coming. We gotta go as fast as we can, okay?”

She won’t receive an answer but you don’t think she expects one. She’s babbling at you, and some dim part of your brain recognises that she’s trying to keep you with her, keep you conscious and moving until you can reach safety.

You take the reins and hold them for a moment blinking stupidly until you recall what you have to do to make the horse move. Too slow. Your brain is too slow. And your body is leaking. This is bad. This is really bad. You try to focus on Ellie ahead of you, focus on her reddish hair flying with the horse’s movement. Just concentrate on her and everything else will be ok. You can feel your body slumping forward over the saddle and weakly shove yourself upright. The pain rocks through you again and this time you do vomit, leaning to the side over the horse and throwing up what was left of your lunch.

“Just a little more,” Ellie’s voice comes from beside you. You blink slowly and wearily at her, uncomprehending how she can have moved position so quickly. She takes the reins out of your hand and begins to lead both horses, glancing around as she does, her movements birdlike and anxious. “Just a little further.”

The swaying of the horse and Ellie’s incessant, indecipherable chatter are the only things that break through the constant scream of agony. The concept of time is alien, your surroundings a dull grey haze of overlapping, meaningless, blurry images that swim before your eyes. Your body slumps again, and this time you are powerless to stop it, clinging to the horse’s mane with every ounce of strength left to you in your one good arm.

Ellie’s hoarse cry of “Help.”

The shriek of metal.

A babbling hubbub of raised voices.

Strong, safe arms around you and soft flannel at your cheek.

Blessed darkness once more.

White.

The whole sky is white.

Was this it? Was this death? If so it was very underwhelming. And…painful. It shouldn’t be painful, should it? Not afterwards anyway. And there was a noise. A weird, gentle, intrusive noise. There definitely shouldn’t be noise after you were dead. Unless…fuck. Were you infected now? Were those noises that you were making? Okay, stay calm. Try to move. If you could tell yourself to move and you did, it meant the fungus wasn’t in charge, right? Just…move.

You raise your hand slowly and just catch a glimpse of plastic tubes sticking out of the back of it before sharp pain lances through you making you whimper and choke. The noise immediately ceases and new ones take its place. Rustling. A deep voice. A voice you knew. A voice that meant you were safe, now tinged with urgency and worry. It’s saying something, but you can’t make out the words properly. And finally, a face you very much want to see swims into focus in the white sky above. But wait…weren’t you angry with him? Wasn’t he angry with you? Not right now it seemed. You’re too exhausted to devote your energy to anything other than lying here, and his face is filled with nothing but relief.

A slight tickling sensation as you feel his fingers gently slide over your own, his warmth sinking into your skin and you blink rapidly as you try to resist the unconsciousness trying to drag you down again. Just a few more moments. Just to see him a while longer.

“You’re okay now,” you hear him say as your eyes flutter shut again. “You’re gonna be okay.”

When you awake a second time its to low, furtive voices surrounding you.

“-knew I shouldn’t have let you go out alone.”

“She fuckin’ saved me Joel!”

A deep sigh. “I know, kiddo. But she wouldn’ta had to if I’d been there.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I know you woulda stood a better chance. If I’d just-shit, is she awake?!”

A rush of hurried footsteps and Joel and Ellie’s worried faces swim into the space above you.

“Yup, she is,” you try to say, but the words come out croaky and mangled and you’re not sure if they can understand you.

“Go get the doc,” Joel urges Ellie, and you can see her pout for just a second, clearly wondering why he couldn’t be the one to get the doc. She seems to decide against arguing and rushes away.

You blink up at Joel warily, wondering if he’s going to berate you for getting yourself into this state, but instead his eyes betray nothing but concern as they dart over your face.

“Wanna sit up,” you mumble.

“Let’s just wait for the doctor,” he says patiently.

“Fuck tha’,” you reply and are rewarded with a small noise of amusement.

“I know you wanna get back to kicking ass, Bubbles, but you gotta rest for now.”

In all honestly, you weren’t sure you could sit up. You just didn’t want to be at the mercy of Joel’s pitying gaze. You’re saved from further conversation by the reappearance of Ellie with a woman you had only seen a few times around Jackson – in the barn the first night you had arrived, at the dance, once when you had been picking up groceries. She has a businesslike air about her, but her dark eyes are kindly, her long braids swept up and out of the way into an elegant bun.

“Welcome back,” she says. “You gave us a bit of a scare.”

“What happened?” you murmur, your voice growing stronger now you were using it again.

“Deer antler to the shoulder. It was pretty nasty, but it didn’t puncture your lung thank goodness. You lost a lot of blood though, and you may have some lasting nerve damage in your right arm. We’ll have to wait until it heals up a bit before we can tell. You also suffered a concussion, so you might have some unpleasant headaches to contend with for a while. But I think you’ll be fine. You just need to rest up.”

She turns her attention to Joel and Ellie who are standing together at one side of your bed.

“That goes for you two as well,” she adds. “She’ll be okay. I’m keeping a close eye on her. Go home.”

Joel looks at Ellie and then at you, reluctance warring with clear exhaustion on his face. Then he nods.

“Okay. C’mon kiddo. Let’s leave her in peace.”

“But-“

“We can come back tomorrow. I promise.”

Ellie also looks reluctant, but you can see how tired she is too, and you wonder just how long they had been here before you had regained consciousness.

“Go,” you croak. “I’m just gonna sleep anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You try to raise a smile and wave to accompany the words, but it emerges as more of a pained grimace as a bolt of pain and a wave of nausea hit you almost simultaneously.

“Okay,” she nods before squeezing your arm gently in farewell. The doctor stays with you, preparing a stethoscope and thermometer in preparation to take your readings. You wait until you’re sure Joel and Ellie have gone before you speak again.

“How long was I out?”

“Well, you were in and out really, but I don’t know how much you remember. You’ve been here for just over a day. We had to sedate you to stitch you up and check you over. It was risky with the concussion, but you were losing blood so we didn’t have much choice.” Her voice softens as she puts the stethoscope against your chest. “They’ve been here almost the entire time. He carried you in, practically had to be shoved back out of the room so I could do what I needed to.” She raises her eyebrow, gives you a knowing glance and you wonder just how fast your heart rate has increased at her words.

At the top of the list of places you never wanted to find yourself ever again was a hospital. Luckily, this one was tiny. Little more than a clinic comprising of a few rooms, you were informed. Still, the pain coupled with the tension at being in such an environment was distinctly uncomfortable and more than once you selfishly wished Joel and Ellie were still at your bedside. Doctor Graham was good company though, and she popped in and out frequently to give you food, help you to the bathroom, to check your dressings, the sounds of your lungs, your pupils. She even helped you into a sitting position, though that came with dizziness and nausea that took a while to pass. Eventually, however, came the inevitable.

“I think I’m going to turn in,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I’m going to be in the room next door. Luckily, you’re my only overnight patient at the moment so there’s space. Do you need anything else?”

You press your lips together in embarrassed hesitation. “I uh…I don’t know how to ask this. I realise that you probably don’t have the supplies to do this but…can you sedate me again?”

Her eyes widen in shock. “Bad idea,” she says, firmly. “It was a desperation move the first time around. Why?”

“I have a thing…about hospitals. I don’t do well in them.”

Her face relaxes again and she gives a small smile. “Oh, you’re nervous about them? It’s okay, perfectly normal-“

“No.” You cut her off abruptly. “It’s not like that. I had an incident. A few years back. Bad. Really bad. I can’t…I don’t…” You can feel your chest constricting and your head beginning to pound, the air you’re trying to suck down not circulating as it should. Dr. Graham must see the effects because she is suddenly beside you, her hand gentle on your uninjured shoulder, telling you to breathe.

“It’s okay,” she’s saying. “You don’t have to say any more. I can’t spare the drugs, you’re right. But would it help if I stayed in this room?”

You nod, focusing on evening out your breathing and staring fixedly at the lumpen shape of your feet under the covers.

“Sometimes I have nightmares. Panic attacks,” you tell her bluntly. “It helps if someone is around. I haven’t been in a hospital since then and I-I don’t know how I’m going to react.”

“You don’t have to explain,” she says kindly. “I get it. Personally I can’t look at an armoured truck without-“ She stops abruptly and swallows hard. “We’ve all got something,” she finishes softly, and moves off to prepare the other bed in the room.

The night is difficult, but less than you expect and no more than some others you had experienced. It helps to have Dr. Graham in the room. It also helps that this looked less like a hospital ward and more like an extremely clean repurposed office. Not to mention that your body is exhausted, the blood loss and after-effects of the drugs still making themselves known. Still, you get less sleep than you would like and you are awake both after the doctor falls asleep, and before she wakes up.

Only once in the night does she have to come to you. You awake with a gasp, dragging air into your lungs as she soothes you with soft words and reassurances, the vision of the storage room, the blood, the bloated corpse at your feet slow to fade in front of your eyes. When you come back to your senses and realise that you are still safe in Jackson your body relaxes into a weepy weariness.

“I’m so sick of this,” you croak to her in the dark. “I’m so tired of doing this night after fucking night.”

“I know,” she murmurs softly, stroking your hair back from your sweat-slicked brow. “Believe me. I know.”

The next morning you insist that you are ready to get out of bed, despite not actually being sure that you are. Dr. Graham helps you initially, but you manage to go to the bathroom, wash, and dress yourself. You’re a little wobbly, a little lightheaded the whole time, and when you brush your stitches as you put on your t shirt you think you’re going to be sick from the pain and the alien sensations within you. But you simply sit on the edge of the bed, drink some water and keep it together, and are frankly proud of yourself for doing so.

By the time Joel and Ellie come to visit you’ve eaten a breakfast of porridge and fruit and are sitting on a chair beside your bed reading a battered paperback crime novel that the good doctor has managed to procure. Ellie bursts into the room carrying more fruit and a small bunch of colourful wildflowers, Joel and Dr Graham trailing in her whirlwind wake.

“Hi! Joel said that people used to bring this kind of stuff to people in hospital,” she says as she deposits your gifts on the table at your bedside and drags a chair up to sit next to you. Joel stands behind her, his arms folded in a distinctly defensive gesture, and you find yourself exhausted at the mere thought of trying to crack through his layers at this time. So you speak only to Ellie instead.

“They did,” you smile. “Thank you.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Pretty terrible,” you confess. “But I’m not dead or infected so that’s a bonus.”

“I thought you were,” she divulges in a small, shaky voice. “Both. Either. The runner fell on to you and I couldn’t get there in time. I didn’t realise that you’d shot it already, so I stabbed it. Do you remember?”

“Not really,” you admit. “It’s all a bit hazy.”

“How long till you can get out of here?”

“That remains to be seen,” interjects Doctor Graham. “The blood transfusion went well, the stitches look clean and the fact that you’re sitting up and talking means that the concussion probably hasn’t led to any long term problems. I’m keeping you in for observation tonight and we’ll see how you are tomorrow. No arguments,” she adds in a stern tone as you open your mouth to protest. “I know you don’t like being here, but I can’t let you go too soon. I’ll be doing regular house calls once you’re back home as well, so get used to my face!”

You sigh in defeat and sullen disappointment. Two nights here was two too many.

“Hey, I’ll water your plants if it helps,” Ellie offers, a sweet smile on her face. “And when you do get out you’re gonna get the best cut of the deer we brought back.”

“Wait, you managed to get it here?!” you ask in amazement. “I thought we had to leave it behind.”

“Nope,” she says proudly. “It made it!”

“Well then, you should get the best cut,” you say admiringly. “I didn’t do much on the journey back except puke.”

Ellie giggles and it makes you smile but when you risk a look at Joel his face is like thunder, eyes flashing and jaw twitching with anger. Your smile fades and you suddenly want nothing more than for him to go away from you.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I know you just got here and I’m so grateful you came, but I’m kinda tired. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Oh!” she says, jumping up. “No problem. We just wanted to see if you were doing okay.”

You very much doubted Joel had wanted to come here at all, but you smile wanly at her.

“I appreciate it. Thank you for dropping by.”

Ellie begins to move toward the door, but Joel stubbornly stays in the same spot.

“You go on,” he says to her, not taking his eyes off you.

“But-“

“I said go,” he interrupts, in a voice that brooks precisely zero arguments. “And doc, if you wouldn’t mind…”

He trails off and Dr. Graham looks between you and he for a moment. You nod at her and she slowly nods back.

“I’ll be right next door,” she says, her bright tone underlaid with a distinct warning directed at Joel. Do NOT stress my patient.

He waits until everyone has departed. And then waits some more. You are determinedly not looking up at him, wanting to match him in this bizarre battle of wills where you don’t know the stakes or rules. Finally, he breathes a huff of exasperation.

“Guess I’m comin’ out with you next time.” There is no gentleness in his voice, no touch of humour. Just flat accusation in his tone.

“We survived,” you shrug, staring pointedly at the blank wall ahead.

“You barely did. Ellie told me everything. God knows what would have happened if there had been more infected. Just how goddamn stupid are you? As soon as you heard those screams you shoulda turned and run.”

You set your jaw forward and bite the inside of your cheek to stop your immediate defensive reply. It was a thought you had entertained yourself during the midnight hours. You had taken a risk, calculated though it was, and that was unlike you. Was it a desire to prove to Joel once and for all that you were capable? If so, it had backfired spectacularly. And there was no way you would ever admit that you wanted to prove anything to him anyway.

“That much meat was too valuable to leave,” you assert quietly. “Winter was hard and we went through the supplies quicker than any of us thought we would. I couldn’t just leave it there-“

“Yes. You could,” he interrupts, coldly. “And you should. It wasn’t worth riskin’-“ He breaks off abruptly and you prickle at the guilt he is layering upon your own, as well as him scolding you like a child.

“I told her to run.”

“You’ve known her long enough to know that she would never have left you,” he snorts disbelievingly.

“Fine. I can’t be trusted with your daughter. You’ve now made that perfectly clear. Whatever ‘next time’ you were talking about will presumably not involve me. Anything else you wanna say?”

You’re still determinedly looking at the wall, trying to steer the immensely shitty emotions that are swirling within you into cold anger and away from upset and tears. Joel is silent for a few more moments and you can see him shift from one foot to the other in your peripheral vision.

“If you had come back without her, I would have run you outta Jackson.” The words are flat, emotionless, and you don’t doubt that they are one hundred percent truthful. They successfully hone your anger, and the hot spike of it in your chest feels good. Feels like being alive.

“If she hadn’t come back, I wouldn’t have either,” you reply, trying and failing to keep your voice as emotionless as his.

“You woulda run away?” he asks in a bitterly derisive tone.

“No!" you assert in an aghast voice. "I would have died to protect her." His belief that you could ever do otherwise cuts deep and you hope he can hear the truth of your words as much as you had his.

“Well I think it’s very clear that you can’t protect her,” he hisses, his ire suddenly bleeding through. Its enough to make you stand and finally face him, and you can feel your answering rage burning through your eyes.

“I literally just did. You fucking asshole.”

“If you can’t protect her without hurtin’ yourself then what is the fucking goddamn point?!”

“The point is that she’s okay.”

“And you’re not! You…you fucking stubborn…I knew…” His words trail off, seemingly swallowed up by his anger. He pauses for a moment and visibly collects himself. “You’re a real piece o’ work, you know that?” he says, bitterly.

“Ohhh, fuck you, Joel,” you flare. “You don’t have to fucking pretend you know.”

“Pretend what?” he growls dangerously.

“Pretend that you give a shit.”

Apparently, this was not the reply he had been expecting and you see genuine surprise flash across his face as his eyes widen. Before he can answer you continue, allowing the heat of your acrimony to boil past your lips.

“You’ve been supremely shitty to me for weeks. Now I can’t think of a single reason why except for the fucking obvious. You changed your mind about me, or fuck, I don’t know, you realised you made a huge fucking mistake and instead of talking to me like an adult you’ve chosen to make it my problem. And you’re doing the same thing now. Fine. I fucked up. And I paid the price. Not her. And that is exactly what protection is about. I did what I said I’d do and I don’t need you here listing the reasons that I’m an awful person. If you really didn’t think either of us could handle it then you should have fucking-“

You break off, a sharp wave of pain turning your angry words into a gasp. You had stepped forward and prodded him in the chest to punctuate your accusations, completely forgetting in the moment that your right shoulder was horribly damaged. You feel the blood draining from your face as your stitches pull with the movement of your muscles and you shakily sit back down on the bed and close your eyes, praying that you don’t pass out or vomit.

“Fuck, are you okay?” Joel’s voice is still tight with a repressed anger, but it is also soft and concerned and suddenly right in front of you, his hand warm on your knee. You open your eyes to see him crouching down, worry written all over his face.

“No, Joel, I’m not okay. I got stabbed by a fucking antler!” you exclaim, an edge of disbelieving agitation to your words.

An unexpected wave of amusement at the absurdity of the whole thing swiftly follows your proclamation. With all the weapons you dealt with day to day, with all the farming equipment you had been learning to use, with all the times you had been faced with infected…this was the thing that had brought you low. A fucking deer. And not even one that had been alive at the time. You press your lips together, attempting to tamp down the mirth that was threatening to derail your righteous anger, but it was too late. You snort. You chuckle. And then you outright laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Joel is staring at you like you’ve lost your mind and that only serves to make you laugh harder until your shoulder twinges with the movements of your body and the smile on your face turns into a wince of pain.

“Christ,” you whimper in a weak voice. “I got stabbed by a fucking antler. Of all the fucking things-“ The hilarity sweeps you up again, the relief of laughing after weeks of being miserable supremely intoxicating, and this time a slow grin spreads across Joel’s face too, and you simultaneously love and hate how relieved you are to see it.

“You really did,” he agrees, a gentle amused huff now escaping his own lips.

“And it was fucking dead!” you howl, Joel’s deep rumbling laugh joining yours in synchronicity.

The laughter gently fades into mirroring slightly embarrassed grins. Part of you wants to seize this opportunity to try to make things right. To tell Joel you're sorry for worrying him, that you're grateful he brought you to the clinic so quickly, that you miss his friendship and want to forget everything that has happened if it would help you to get back to the place you had been before. Another part is stubbornly telling you that you did nothing wrong, that you protected Ellie, that you will heal up fine without his help and that he owes you both an apology and an explanation for his recent behaviour. You search his face, trying to gauge what he is feeling, but he looks tired more than anything, with dark circles under his eyes and the lines on his skin seeming even deeper than usual. He presses his lips together, looks like he is gearing himself up to say something, but before he can -

“Well, well, the fogeys have made up have they?”

Ellie is leaning casually against the doorframe a wide grin on her face. You had been laughing so much and so deep in thought that you hadn’t even heard her come in. Joel and you exchange a glance, the smiles slowly fading from your faces as you remember that you had been deep in argument only a few minutes prior. Still, his eyes remain soft upon you, the distain you had come to recognise in their depths recently no longer present. You don’t know how to answer her, don’t even know if her question is rhetorical, but Joel saves you by standing up with a pained grunt, his knees giving an audible clicking sound.

“C’mon kiddo,” he says softly. “Let’s give her some space.”

Taglist - @thisshipwillsail316 @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @elegantduckturtle @dihra-vesa @midwesternwitchery @just-here-for-the-moment @eri16 @readsalot73 @littlemisspascal @princessxkenobi @harriedandharassed @pagannightwitch @tentacruels @kirsteng42 @shirks-all-responsibilities @deadhumourist @pedrostories @abbyhaslongshorts @celebrtyskinz @majahu @sanscas @myloveistoolittle @ohthemisssery @harperdoodle @hummelmi

Next chapter

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

Wayne Munson thoughts because I was thinking about him so much last night that I made myself sad.

Encouraged by @sparks363 @niceboyeds @pleasantlycrazyworld aaaand @stevesmunsons😭🙏🫂💕

This is MOSTLY Eddie & Wayne interactions, some Eddie x Reader, mentions of canon events (Eddie's death very very vaguely referenced because we all know I haven't seen episode nine), Hawkins gang talked about, there is me gushing over Uncle Wayne, Eddie thoughts, Uncle Wayne thoughts.... I just have a lot of words about Uncle Wayne right now and I'm letting everything spill out in a conscious stream; no editing or planning, just me going ham on my keyboard while wearing my Munson Motivation Outfit during a prolonged study break because I gotta get all this out before it drives me insane!!!!! Used every tag I could think of because I spoke of lots of different things here and wanted to cover all my bases.

Word count: 2, 911

Eddie tags: @eddiebunson @hersweetrevenge @sweetpeapod @sabbathsworld @hawkinsroyaloutcast @seidenbros @bakerstreethound @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @gemstone-roses @hellfire1986baby @jslittlebirdie @comfortcharactercraze @heydreamchild @mywinterivy @corrodedcoffeen @m00nlight101 @3ddi3-daydreamer @pleasantlycrazyworld @samlealea @indouloureux @basicallybats @niceboyeds @manyfandomsfanvergent @becca-alexa @singularattitudeofasafetypin @knifeskiss @loving-and-dreaming @hiscrimsonangel @esme-viridian

Eddie & Wayne @hellfirebabe @eddiemunsonshoney @potatos-library @bakerstreethound @gemstone-roses @sweetpeapod @authorlovers @jslittlebirdie @heydreamchild @comfortcharactercraze @mywinterivy @corrodedcoffeen @ourstaturestouchtheskies  @m00nlight101 @3ddi3-daydreamer @pleasantlycrazyworld @samlealea @manyfandomsfanvergent @indouloureux @basicallybats @niceboyeds @becca-alexa  @singularattitudeofasafetypin @knifeskiss @loving-and-dreaming  @hiscrimsonangel @esme-viridian

Wayne Munson.

I'm gonna get into my actual thoughts on him in a minute but first, I gotta gush because this man is the bestest, sweetest, most wonderful dad in all of Hawkins, nay, in all of Indiana. He raised Eddie so beautifully and he instantly knew Eddie didn't do it and he didn't even question it and just defended Eddie time and time again. I just love Wayne Munson so much hhhhhh I wanna approach him all slow and careful and sort of awkwardly stand there because I'm not very good at verbalising my wants, and then edge a bit closer. Maybe he'd raise an arm, already knowing what I want, and I would let myself step in to the hug I would've been thinking about for hours before asking for it in my own way, or maybe I'd get swept up into a great big bear hug which would have me in tears in seconds or maybe he'd pat me on the top of the head and let his hand rest there on my crown for a few seconds and then hug me hhhhh I wouldn't care. I am very awkward in real life and i find it hard to verbalise or even admit when I want something, but I feel like Uncle Wayne would know me and give me the hugs when I try to ask for them.

Or maybe I wouldn't have to ask for them because he would just know. My Munson Motivation Outfit came out in the wash yesterday and I nearly cried hhhhh I gotta smash out that assignment today - and it's a big one - and I'm wearing it and still thinking of Uncle Wayne and Eddie and my heart is aching for the Munsons hhhhh I love Uncle Wayne and he's the bestest dad and he and his boy deserved so, so much better. Wearing 'their' clothes makes me feel so soft and warm and safe and cosy and genuinely helps me focus when I gotta study because it's like they're with me.🥺

Okay so, gushing isn't done but you get the gist and now, thoughts!!!!

I have no doubt that in time, Uncle Wayne would have adopted the rest of the Hawkins gang; he warmed up to Nancy relatively quickly once he realised that she was there to talk to him and offer him some comfort and he was the one who told her about Victor Creel (the way he instantly knew his boy didn't do it😭) so that she and Robin got the ball rolling on solving the issue at hand. They wouldn't have been able to do anything if Uncle Wayne hadn't been the one to mention Victor Creel. He's literally the reason they found the Upside Down like they did (without El to guide them, of course; if they had had El and her powers when they needed her, then season four likely would have gone very differently as far as Hawkins' events are concerned).

Based on the way he let his walls down just a little with Nancy within just five minutes, (don't ask me about That Scene with Dustin because I still haven't watched episode nine so while I'm aware of it. it's not gonna be discussed here but yeah, Dustin would be adopted too after Nancy) and it'd snowball into the whole gang being adopted by Uncle Wayne, whether they have family or not.

Everyone needs and deserves an Uncle Wayne; if you can't find one, be one. That's what he taught Eddie; he is to Eddie what Eddie became to Hellfire Club and Corroded Coffin. All those lost little sheepies out there need a sheperd to tend to the flock, and no two people understand that better than the Munsons do. Honouring them by taking inspiration from the lessons they taught us is something which they would truly appreciate and adore, and you'd score yourself a bear hug from the both of them.

If you're kind to people, if you're genuine and you're you, then Wayne Munson would have respect turned fondness turned love for you and you would be someone he'd be happy to have around, especially if you love Eddie. They're a package deal; you can't get one Munson without the other (and why would you want just one of them?) and if one loves you, then the other does, too. (I also feel like if Uncle Wayne doesn't like you - you'd have to be a Grade A Asshole for that, though, then it would make Eddie question everything about his friendship or relationship with you. Uncle Wayne's gut instinct is never wrong.)

They mean so much to each other that Uncle Wayne wants to love you almost immediately when he finds out that Eddie loves you (and the same concept with Eddie's friends, too) because you must be a good one if his boy loves you! He would watch you carefully at first but then the first time he sees you laughing with Eddie (not at him - Uncle Wayne knows the difference, he sees it every day), the first time he catches you smiling at Eddie with your feelings for him written all over your face when Eddie's not even looking at you, he's up to his elbows in soapy dish water as he does the chores he promised he would do, the first time Uncle Wayne sees you cry because you miss Eddie but he's literally just in the bedroom and you're outside on the benches with Uncle Wayne, he realises what's going on and Uncle Wayne melts to realise that now, Eddie has people who love him for him - he has you, the Hawkins gang, he has his dad... Uncle Wayne melts when he finds out people love his boy.

His melting shows itself in quiet ways - he'll make extra coffee because he knows you tend to want one when he does, he'll leave the heater on when he leaves for work because you'll be cold when you come in and he wants you to have a warm place to come back to, he'll leave his flannel around for you and Eddie to wear - he knows the both of you take turns wearing it or even sleeping with it when he's working long and lonely nights at the plant. He'll be there for you at three AM when there's no one left to call but your sorrow is trying to murder you, he'll be there for you at ten AM when your dishwasher doesn't work and you can't figure out why, he'll be there for you when you go grocery shopping together and you haven't quite figured out how to meal plan on a budget yet... Uncle Wayne will be there for you, through it all. You cannot disappoint or anger him, even if you try, and if you do try, then he'll just raise his shoulders in that weary way he has and ask you what you're trying to achieve here. The fact that he doesn't shout or raise his voice makes you feel worse somehow.

So, yeah, if you manage to crack through Wayne Munson's gruff exterior, which is doable but it'll take patience and persistence. He's seen too much of the bad things in the world, he's Eddie's shield, his guardian and protector, and he's more cynical than even Eddie claims to be, full of anger is he at all that he and Eddie have endured thus far in your lives, but keep going, keep persisting and be honest in yourself. You'll find that Uncle Wayne is just as gooey as Eddie is. He melts often, but for no one more so than Eddie. His boy. His son.

Uncle Wayne gave Eddie a home. He gave him the only bedroom in the trailer. I think Uncle Wayne has had Eddie since Eddie was maybe six or seven years old; he's raised his boy. I think his 'dad' is in prison and his mum is dead (based off things Joe has said in interviews), and because Joel (Wayne Munson's actor) said that Uncle Wayne saw what Eddie went through with his 'parents' and wanted to protect him, I took all that to mean that he's had Eddie since he was younger than ten. Which means, Uncle Wayne has voluntarily slept on a fold-out bed in his own living room for at least a decade. He immediately defended Eddie, he spent all those six days Eddie was missing looking for him, replacing vandalised missing posters tirelessly and undoubtedly, defending him against what people were saying, too. The amount of love Uncle Wayne has for Eddie is incredible, and the way Eddie says "my Uncle, he, uh, he works at the plant. Bringing home the big bucks" was casual, and maybe I'm projecting or looking for things which aren't there, but he sounded so proud, too. I hope that, if anything, the Munsons at least knew how loved they were by each other. Canon gave them nothing but I hope that they had the knowledge that they loved each other, at least. At least.

Eddie and Uncle Wayne are like ships in the night. When Eddie is at school, Uncle Wayne is asleep. When Eddie comes home from school or all the extracurriculars he does - drama club, Hellfire Club, spending time in the library looking for the latest fantasy releases, maybe even spending time in the music rooms so he can get tips from the teacher on how to more effectively teach himself by heart and ear Metallica's latest album, Uncle Wayne is out his way to go to work. They exchange smiles, nods, a clap on the shoulder each instead of a hug because there's no real time for that. Or maybe Eddie will go inside and then dart back outside, black curls flying everywhere as a blur of denim and black throws itself at Uncle Wayne just as he's opening his truck door, and gets caught in a hug because damn it, boy, stop throwin' yourself like that, and then Eddie lets him go with a tight smile and Uncle Wayne sighs wearily because I miss you too, son.

Before Eddie goes to school every morning, he gets the trailer ready for his dad to come home. He pulls out the fold-out bed or if he knows Uncle Wayne's back has been especially troubling, he'll haphazardly strip the sheets on his bed and remake them so that Uncle Wayne can sleep there instead of on the fold-out, he gets towels warmed up on the radiators so that his dad has towels there after his shower, he puts the products in the shower itself and gets out the dinner he cooked in advance last night so that all Uncle Wayne has to do when he comes home is kick his shoes off, shower, reheat dinner, and sleep. And any spare cash he has left over after buying the stuff he needs to make D&D props (or begging the art department for any leftovers or things the Head won't noticed missing - Eddie is well liked by the teachers in the Arts and Humanities departments of Hawkins High) or filling up his van or buying school supplies, is given to his Uncle. Not formally, it's just left laying around with a note which says, "in case you need", but it helps. It really helps. And that's why Eddie does what he does. He does the best with what he has and wants to do everything possible to thank his dad for taking him in and always looking after him.

Eddie feels like he owes Uncle Wayne his literal life, but Uncle Wayne feels like Eddie made his life.

They never really say it, but they both know.

Uncle Wayne always thanks him by having a cup of coffee brewing for Eddie, waiting for when he comes home. Sometimes the timing is off so that the coffee is almost cold by the time Eddie gets it, but he nukes it in the microwave or just drinks it as it is. He loves it because his dad made it.

Likewise, Uncle Wayne always makes sure that he doesn't notice where the drugs are stashed around the trailer (he doesn't approve, necessarily, but as long as Eddie doesn't get caught, he'll let his son do what he's gotta do to get by), he makes sure that Eddie always has food and water and a roof over his head, he makes sure that Eddie's room is liveable and helps Eddie to keep it tidy, sometimes he'll rent something from Family Video for Eddie to come home to, fill up the van with gas if he can afford it...

The Munsons are ships in the night but they love each other as loud as they can.

There are times, rare though they are, when the Munsons get to be home together. Maybe Eddie is sick or it's one of Uncle Wayne's days off, or maybe it just worked out that way and Eddie's practically vibrating where he stands because he's just so excited to get to be home uninterrupted with his dad! They spend the day together watching television or spending time together separately. Eddie on the floor of the living room, playing guitar, writing down notes for his next campaign or doing some homework (he really wants to graduate, why else would he put himself through senior year three times? Eddie isn't the problem, it's the school!), maybe he'll ask Uncle Wayne for an answer to one of the questions every now and then and just like always, Uncle Wayne will encourage Eddie to try on his own and if he can't do it after the third time, then he'll help Eddie, getting down on the floor beside him until the two of then are puzzling it out together and before they know it, it's been three hours and Eddie still hasn't finished his physics homework but he's made his dad laugh so much he's pretty sure they've each busting a lung, and that's more important!

In any case, day bleeds into night and they go to bed, Eddie to his room and Uncle Wayne on the sofa, and maybe Eddie has a nightmare or he wakes up and can't go back to sleep, but whatever the reason, he sneaks past a sleeping Uncle Wayne and goes to have a smoke outside, and when he comes back in, Uncle Wayne is sat with his elbows on his knees, his flannel on but open, rubbing at his hand with a tired hand.

"You okay, son?"

"Yeah, I just - " Eddie sighs, ruffles his own hair, "Can't sleep, man."

"Why?" That upward lilt in his dad's voice always makes Eddie smile and right now is no different.

"Nightmare, I guess."

Just like with always, Uncle Wayne melts and he lays back, getting comfortable in his bed again. Eddie is twenty years old, but he's always crawled into his dad's bed after a nightmare, and he will always do that, because that's who the Munsons are. Whatever Eddie wants in terms of affection or love, Uncle Wayne will give it to him because everything is tight in their household except love, and so Eddie receives it in abundance.

"C'mere, Eddie,"

Eddie is twenty years old but he feels no shame in shuffling across the trailer and climbing into his Uncle's bed. There's no awkwardness, they've known each other too damn long, and Eddie brings his knees to his chest and rolls so that his face is buried in the soace just above his dad's heart, so that he can hear and feel that his dad is alive and that he, Eddie, is totally safe.

"S'okay, son," Uncle Wayne roughly pets Eddie's hair, his other arm around Eddie's shoulders, and he manages to lull Eddie's heartbeat to a more relaxed pace, "you know you're safe here."

Eddie makes a sleepily noise and Uncle Wayne chuckles. "Never been any different, Eddie, have you?" Stroking Eddie's hair always puts him out like a light and it never fails to turn Uncle Wayne to mush.

"Love you, dad." It's a sleepy mumble, barely audible, but whether he's painfully silent or shouting at the very top of his lungs, Uncle Wayne will always hear his Eddie, his boy.

"Love you too, son."

And Eddie sleeps.

Uncle Wayne stays awake, like all those nights before, watching his son sleeping, watching over him like the guardian and protector he swore he would always be from the moment he found out that Eddie was to be his boy. He doesn't even want to think about what their lives would be like if he hadn't received that phone call offering him legal parental rights over Edward Munson. So, yes, Uncle Wayne melts for Eddie, but Eddie melts for Uncle Wayne, too, the man who gave him a home and more love than he's ever gonna know what to do with. Everything Eddie does is his attempt to say thank you, though Uncle Wayne would do it all over again and again and again for his boy.

Calling each other 'dad' and 'son' was never something either really thought about, it was a natural progression over months and years of living together, and neither Munson would have it or each other any other way.

The Munsons were the best thing that ever happened to each other.

(I probably have more thoughts in my head somewhere but it's been two hours and I gotta get back to this assignment hhhh I love and miss the Munsons so, so much. They both deserved better and every day I try to honour them and what they taught me by being the best me I can in all things. Shit's exhausting but they get me through.🙏💗)

[kkyujikoo]

Gotta love how the whole jikook tag is full of "since jikook hugged that way, they've been separated a long time" and variations of it, meanwhile my first and second and subsequent reactions all were "jikook are annoying as fuck". Which. Babes. Let's all be real rn: jikook are Annoying as fuck and I say this affectionately but also I feel like it bears repeating and understanding deeply. If they have their little ~dramatic main characters moment ~ is because they have been, and will always be, the ~ dramatic main characters of a love story ~ in their friend group.

Just to have a small previously on: Jungkook had seen jimin two days prior (that we KNOW of) and he went on a full jimin lockdown for the whole ass world to see at FOUR in the fucking morning.

One of the last vlives they did all 7 of them together Tae had to clap his hands to remind the dudes they were basically squeezing him into the couch so they could have the space to do their weird little rituals.

Need I remind you of jk bridal carrying jimin in the background and the both of them being so confused over why they'd just done that that jungkook let him go five seconds later? Sometimes even they don't realise why they're doing whatever weird ritual they're doing.

They choreographed an exchange which was "what is your favourite song?" "It's serendipity" into a whole ass seduction process where they were basically about to make out.

They have tunnel vision when it comes to each other, we should have grasped that in the last ten years. And sometimes that means being that annoying couple (of besties, maybe? I doubt that but it could be, I guess?) that even in the middle of an important reunion, can't help but focus on each other. It's okay to admit and it's not trying to smear their name. I just feel like we'd all be more chill if we understood that fundamentally jikook can't help but focus on each other when they're within a mile radius of each other. It doesn't have any deeper meaning, it doesn't mean they ~havent seen each other for months~ and personally, I don't even think it's about teasing: they just... Do That. They're like that. Not even when they're saying goodbye to their beloved hyung they manage to stop being Like That because I don't think it's a conscious choice.

[triforce-of-mischief]

Try and Fail

Febuwhump Day 4: Experiment [Alt prompt 4]

Whump count: injury, blood, concussion, broken bones, mention of dead monsters

Word count: 800

Summary: The Colors never merge while they're injured. They don't know what it will do to them... but they're about to find out.

AO3

Reblogs > Likes!

After a tough battle, the Colors always made sure to heal themselves before reforming Four. They didn’t know what would happen if four wounded bodies merged into one, but it would surely be bad.

Healing before merging had always been an option… until now.

Green looked over the battlefield, not liking what he saw. The monsters were all dead, and his exhausted brothers were scattered throughout the corpses.

Blue was scowling as clutched a clearly broken ankle. Red’s fire rod lay forgotten on the ground as he stared, gaze unfocused, at the horizon. He didn’t seem to be aware of the blood trickling down the back of his head. Vio was still and prone, surrounded by too much blood to just be the monsters’. Green was almost lucky in comparison, he thought as he wiped away blood from his broken nose.

Okay, focus and regroup. Maybe we can wait for the others to find us, or work together to carry whoever’s hurt most.

He went to Red first, who took a few seconds to realize that he was there. Green didn’t need a light to tell that Red’s pupils were uneven, one extremely dilated while the other was a pinprick drowning in amber. A concussion, and a really bad one.

“Red,” Green said slowly, patiently. “I need you to bring your fire rod to Blue. He needs it to splint his leg. Can you do that for me?”

“Mhm.” Red stood, wobbling a bit but steady enough to walk over to Blue.

With Red and Blue handled for now, Green hurried to check on Vio. The fourth Color was bleeding profusely from a gash in his side, and Green dove to apply pressure to the wound. “Vio, can you hear me?”

Vio gave him a tiny nod, but his eyes stayed closed.

“I need you to look at me, Vio. You have to stay awake.”

Tired amethyst met urgent emerald, and Green attempted an encouraging smile. “That’s good, Vio. Just don’t fall asleep.”

Hylia, that’s a lot of blood…

Green glanced over his shoulder and saw Blue and Red hobbling over, Blue guiding a dazed Red while Red supported Blue in turn.

“I don’t think we can wait for the others to come find us,” Blue said, leaning on his concussed crutch.

“No… we have to go to them,” Green said slowly. “And we can’t all make it like this. We’ll have to merge.”

Blue paled. “But we never merge when we’re hurt. What will that do to Four?”

“I don’t know, and I wish we never had to find out. But Vio is bleeding out, Red’s head is bashed, and you and I are busted up ourselves.” Green gingerly rubbed his bloody nose on his shoulder, not willing to take pressure off of Vio’s wound. “Draw your sword, and have Red draw his too. We should do this as fast as possible.”

Those who were able drew their copies of the Four Sword, and Blue placed Vio’s in the other’s limp hand. “Everybody ready?” Green asked.

Blue nodded, Red mumbled nonsense, and Vio groaned.

“Great. Here we go.”

Three swords lowered to Vio’s since he couldn’t move his arm, and a bright flash of magic merged the four into one.

The pain was instant and overwhelming, too much and everywhere. The body had a concussion, a shattered ankle, a broken nose, and a slash wound that was bleeding more than they could handle.

Green did a quick headcount of everyone in the headspace. Red had started to cry from the confusion and pain, and Blue was trying to calm him down through gritted teeth. Vio was… nowhere to be found.

“Ugh, ow… wait, what did you do?”

That was Vio’s voice, and it was coming from outside.

Green called back, making sure Vio could hear him. “Oh gods… Vio, are we…?”

“Y-yeah. When you forced the reform, you merged into my body instead of Four.”

“This is bad,” Blue muttered.

“I don’t know how we- you- are still conscious, but we need to move before you pass out,” Green said. “You gotta get up, and keep pressure on that wound.”

“Working on it,” Vio hissed, struggling to stand. All four Colors felt the pain that spiked through his ankle, and only their stubborn, collective will prevented him from blacking out as the concussion made itself known.

“Great job. First step forward, now,” Green said, and the three internal Colors urged their temporary host to keep walking.

They didn’t get very far before not even the others’ urgency could convince Vio to continue onward. They shouted in alarm when Vio fell to his knees, and begged him to keep moving. Vio mumbled an apology as his consciousness faded, and the other three faded with him. 

As they slipped into the abyss, Green almost thought he could hear somebody yelling their name.

[centuriantalevevo]

Eyo so-

Since I have ADHD and Mysta has ADHD it's self projecting time!!!

Mysta Rias and Reader with ADHD

Mysta wasn't surprised when you told him- actually the entirety of Luxiem- Shoto already knew.

Mysta just had a feeling... Something was definitely off about you unlike the others- like him!

Everyone got an answer one way while you got the same answer doing it a whole different way- like how did you even get that?! Only Mysta can truly understand that feeling-

He wasn't too good at catching himself when he went of track but he was good at catching you straying away from the original subject.

It's why he felt so comfortable just talking around you. With a lot of people, I always tried to stay overly conscious about what he was saying, he didn't wanna stray away into 5 subjects at once and throw everyone off... that happened a lot. No one was able to keep up- but with you, he could go through 5 subjects in 1 minute and you could keep up the ENTIRE time, even going ahead of him.

It mostly was brought up when Luca asked.

"Oh, ya! I have ADHD!"

"Oh shit, really? Mysta does too I think," Vox comments, "For some reason I had a hunch you were neurodivergent in some way..." Mysta said

But with that came the struggles. But struggles both of you could relate to, so it didn't feel as lonely.

Both of you had a tendency to talk over others on accident. The impulsivity that comes with ADHD causes this. Yeah, yeah, neurotypical people do this too, but not nearly as much. For ADHD, it can affect personal relationships, just like any other symptom of ADHD.

Both of you have a small ass attention span, and you commend Mysta for people able to play the whole game of The Quarry, or Minecraft for even 5 minutes on his own. You loved games with puzzles and stuff, like Madison since it was horror... but you had a small amount of patience and even less for focus so for finding the damn green safe passcode, you opted for looking it up on Google over actually finding it-

You and Mysta help each other with getting work done- usually it seems like Mysta's the one doing the reminding. Hell sometimes he'll stream while you're in VC with him since you were doing something like homework. If he heard what sounded like you going off track, he was instantly nudging you back to your work until you got it done. You did the same for him. If he had some shit to do but was procrastinating, you'd push him back on track.

Hyperactive episodes are wild when you got 2 people with ADHD in the room-

You two will rage at the faking disorder cringe compilations for HOURS... you two will MALD over people who fake ADHD so much Jesus christ-

"NO- IF YOUR GIRLFRIEND HAS ADHD I'M MORE THAN 110% SURE SHE WON'T GET HYPER ON COFFEE!!" "Yeah!!"

"THAT'S WHY SHIT LIKE ADDERALL AND VYVANSE CALM US DOWN BUT MAKES ANYONE WHO DOESNT HAVE ADHD HYper- I physically can not get a sugar rush- I've never had a sugar rush in my life!!" "Exactly! Caffeine doesn't do shit to us... like if she were to have something similar to ADHD then you mean ADD... because people with ADD get hyper from shit like Adderall. It has the opposite affect on people without ADHD!" "That's why it's so addicting too!"

Mysta would gladly listen to you ramble about your hyperfixations, obviously jumping in with a comment here or there.

You'd do the same, and if you both shared the same hyperfixation at that moment? Oh boy... silence doesn't exist-

You're both patient with each other.

You know you have to get work done but Mysta won't shut the fuck up about something, you get his attention and gently remind him you need to get something done before the hyperfocus wears off- he understands and fucks off to do something else for a little bit until you're done. If you're rambling off about whatever the fuck, the does the same.

"I'm sorry but I gotta get this done! I'll talk to you and listen in a little okay? I love you!~"

But oh jesus christ what is a clean room honestly-

Organization? What??

Organizer? I hardly even know 'er-

Both of your rooms are a death trap.

Who's is worse? We don't know. We can't tell. We're too afraid to get close to either person's room door.

But sometimes you band together with that hyperfocus mentality currently affecting you and get y'all's rooms cleaned one by one...

But it ain't staying like that for long...

It's fucked up in a week max

Usually in 2 days it's back to the way it was. Honestly what was the point? We don't know- but "Hey! I found my Miku pop figure I was looking for!!"

With impulsivity comes great spending habits lmao-

Between the two you MIGHT be better-

If you exclude thr 100 dollars you spent using Christmas to get Xiao when you lost his 50/50 to Diluc

But you are bad about spending small amounts of money on the stupidest shut you find online or in somewhere like Walmart or Target-

Only like 4 dollars but still-

You when to Walmart with the intent on getting groceries but came back with toys that you for distracted by, 2 gallons of Milo's Sweet Tea (or unsweetened if you're uncultured- fuck unsweet tea, this post was made by the sweet tea gang-), candy, some random ass kids art supplies, the kids gummy vitamins, and more random candy you got at the check out counter... as well as McDonald's.

"(Y/n) that's... that's not groceries.." "technically it IS groceries!-" "not the ones we needed though! You can nOT be trusted!" "YoU CAN'T EITHER-"

Y'all spent the next like 3 hours playing with Legos and shit bro-

Mysta on his way to try and clean his room but ended up finding some old pictures and stuff he forgot about.. you walked in and ended up joining him.

Please anything but the actual task I have to do-

When you have conversations and go from topic A to topic 10 in 5 minutes people ask how and then proceed to be amazed at how you do mental gymnastics all the way from how the conversation began to how it finished flawlessly and Mysta's just there like "yep... sounds about right"

How do you even remember what our conversation what about?!-

.... ssshhhh... don't question the ways of the neurodivergents...

ADHD isn't fun, but it can be more bearable when someone who can relate is around to talk about it and you help each other through it.

[lordkingsmith]

Okay, I saw the blurb reference for ask, and now I GOTTA, just because: Matt Cook + All of his OC babies~ (we all know WHY)

lol yes we know why. I was debating whether or not I cover Matt dear, so thanks for deciding for me XD

canon children:

none that we know of

OC Children:

Kimberly Hart:

Kelson Hart. Aged 21. Older Twin brother to Kira Hart. Kim’s a single parent, raised her kids mostly on the run after Matthew died when they were four, but she and Matt never got married. More of a friends with benefits thing, off and on until she got pregnant with twins. Kelson has nothing to do with his family. Intergalactic diplomat at 21. Does not live on earth, but shows up every Christmas. He is not associated with any color. He blames power rangers for a lot of his family and planet problems actually. He loves his mom and sister and family, but he can’t bypass their glaringly massive differences in opinions.

Kira, aged 21, younger twin sister to Kelson, green ranger on SPD B Team. She’s often her brothers body guard when he’s on earth for official business, but they bicker constantly when they actually speak to each other outside of work. He blames the power rangers for everything, she thinks he’s an idiot. The reason Kim was on the run in the first place was an unreformed Zedd heard about the kids and as Matt used to work for him, decided those kids were his, actually. As payment. Matt died killing Zedd. That wasn’t power rangers fault, that was Zedd’s fault.

Billy Cranston;

When Billy loses his ranger status and goes to work for Grace, Matt is also there as the green ranger. Billy keeps his distance for a while; the guy is more or less a massive dick. Especially over something that wasn’t Billy’s fault. Billy’s also not taking pot shots at his friends or Zordon over it with Matt. They start dating after the War, and Matt’s final betrayal. More because he finally wore Billy down, but Billy had a good time hanging out with him again. And then both of them had the rude realization at the same time of “I am attracted to this man-fuck he noticed-oh he’s into it” which snowballed. They adopted one kid, and had another via help from alien technology mixed with a little magic. Nora, aged 26, is a professional hockey player. Matt decided he was going to support her sport even if it wasn’t his sport. Billy quickly developed a love of hockey at one of her events when she was little. Mostly because this game is ridiculous. Though he does worry about her on the ice. A lot. They adopted her when she was five, and she’s loud and enthusiastic and very rarely is she ever sad or genuinely upset. Her opinion on things is mostly “be friendly at it or challenge it to a fight” and generally speaking the options work enough she’s never needed to figure out other plans of action. She met her wife during a game. She’s from an opposing team. Nora gave her a concussion; she knocked Nora’s front teeth out. This was par for the course and they bonded in hospital. Billy’s still trying to figure out HOW. Matt thinks it’s hilarious. Is the green dragon ranger. She is legitimately feared by most and can solve most problems without suiting up. The threat is enough.

Their other child is Abner. He’s socially transitioning, he’s 18. He wants to be a writer. He and his sister have a very loving if slightly antagonistic relationship. When Abner came out to her, Nora’s response was “well now you don’t need to steal my clothes. Give them back” which lead to an argument but not the one Abner was expecting. They negotiated the clothing situation. Abner’s not giving back a pair of boots; they look way too good on him. Matt and Billy both support him. Matt sometimes slips up with name, however he’s quick to correct himself. Billy helped Abner choose his name, and was the first person he came out to. Abner is a little self conscious about his looks, and about his public image. More in regards to if he’s going to make his family look bad. Like Matt he tends to brood and focus on negative details way too much. Like Billy he tends to strive for perfection and his vocabulary makes it hard for people to understand him.

Eugene Skullovitch;

Matt dives head first into the villain persona, and is happily doing so. He's thriving. Until he's forced into an ultimatum; save Bulk and Skull from certain death by the hands of Goldar, or vanquish the Solar Rangers. Against his better judgment, he saves Bulk and Skull. Skull, unfortunately for timing wise, had said he'd kiss whoever saved their lives minutes before Matt saved them. He's a man of his word, but he also punched him in the mouth immediately after. Matt's confused as hell. So instead of chasing after Kim, begins chasing after Skull because what was THAT. This leads to a very weird redemption arc because Matt has realized 2 things; he likes being kissed by Skull and he does not want Skull mad at him anymore. Cut to fifteen years later; they've got a kid of their own and no actual idea how they got there really. But, they're happy, don't hate each other's guts, their kid's thriving, it's all good. The entire empire of evil absolutely hates them though and Matt somehow managed to get himself on the shit list of Thor. As long as he doesn't go out while it's thunderstorming he should be fine.

Their son is ten, his name is Jude Cook. Jude is one of the weirdly luckiest kids alive. He's survived an insane amount of attempts on his life, falls, kidnappings, and things he should otherwise not survive. His parents have stopped asking how. Loki helped give them a son, which is partly why Thor's pissed, so they've at this point accepted demigod baby is just gonna do what a demigod baby do. It's probably for the best. Spike's his older brother, and is training with Loki to be some sort of spirit of shapeshifting mischief. They both love causing mild trouble. Like Skull, Jude's got a fear of flying which makes things a little interesting. Skull's got his sons and his partner on a very very strict promise; if the shenanigans could cause an enemy of something power, walk away. Walk far away. Neptune exists. We don't want to get on the bad side of Neptune.

in a tangential version, Billy coparents with the two, and studies demigod ten year old, and deals with the Norse gods being in his business. At the very least nobody's been sucked into Ares' prison jar, so that's good.

*Bonus Poly of Billy Cranston, Matt Cook, and Eugene Skullovitch has all above children mentioned. They live in a large house, Eugene's a famous rockstar and restaurant chain owner, and they actually use every room in said house. In this version they met via Matt asking the only person he knew with experience in bdsm for some help with his newly realized kinks; Skull's payment was pizza nights and then Billy got dragged in because he was certain Matt was abusing Skull, but realized it was fine, actually. And fun.

Tommy Oliver;

Tommy and Matt did not really like each other at the beginning. Matt blames Tommy for so so much, but can't do anything about it, and Tommy's missing Dragon Green something terrible and dealing with massive amounts of PTSD for related but different reasons than Matt. Rita trapped them together in a gladitorial area of the Dark Dimension, and Tommy and Matt managed to talk to each other and get into an understanding. When they started dating, it was actually Grace who saw an opportunity, not Rita. But it’d be three more years before she could enact the plan. She didn’t tell Terona, and she was intending to eventually get every coin as well, for a full set.

Verdun Cook is 24, he’s the green dragon ranger, and he’s never met his dads. He’s a top agent for protection of earth. He thinks his parents gave him up to Grace. They think he died in infancy, an unfortunate complication in how he was made. They also think the dragon dagger was destroyed as well, around the same time. When parents and son finally meet, Tommy and Matt are furious. Billy’s furious. Terona's furious. He got Verdun to Tommy and Matt when he found out, even. Everyone’s furious. Matt and Tommy have Verdun live with them to acclimate to civilian life, and get used to being a person. His entire life has been as a weapon; he’s trying to very rapidly learn how to be human. It’s not like he was a success in the program either; the plan was a whole team of legacy rangers in their parents Colors, and he was the only one they could get.

Currently the only people allowed to mess with Tommy and Matt’s DNA is Billy and the Aquitarans and, hilariously, Zedd. He only made a clone. He was very transparent about what he was intending for the clone. Tommy knows where the clone is. He DIDN’T know where his son was, that he was alive, what Grace was intending or what he was doing. He and Matt are in agreement; If they had to chose they’d choose Zedd with their DNA.

When they thought their biological son had died; they adopted. Ricky is fifteen, not associated with a color, and is trying to get used to this with along with their dads. Ricky really is trying to be nice as well, but his overenthusiasm and attempts at bonding are often coming off too strong and borderline antagonistic. He doesn't mean to be. But the bright side is Ricky’s got someone to hang out with. And better yet, Verdun knows nothing about video games, pop culture, or really anything. So. Who wants to watch Star Wars? Ricky's got mixed feelings about his brother, but they're ranging from sad to excited, there's nothing jealousy related. Their dads are awesome, and he's sad Verdun never got to grow up with their dads. And he's excited to be able to have fun with his brother. Ricky is very excitable, and works on the school newspaper. He does volleyball, and has goals to be valedictorian when he graduates. Friendly, upbeat, can sometimes take things too far, but he tries to make those moments right.

They’re all making up for lost time with Verdun. It’s long overdue. At least both kids get along.

Trini Kwan;

Trini smacked sense into him after the upteenth pity party. She also forced him to come along for a mission in space with the Solar Rangers. He wanted to be let in on the whole thing? Fine! They could do that! Welcome to space Matt, everyone you meet is going to die or kill you! Have fun!

After, he put the dagger up, and he and Trini actually talked about what happened on the moon. She also retired from being a ranger, and they focused on taking a page from Bulk and Skull; being helpful as civilians. Matt asked Trini to marry him, and Trini said no. They made a game of it for a few years before she finally did say yes, when they were both financially stable.

They have Minh, and do foster parenting. Currently fostering JJ Oliver, due to unforeseen events leading to both Tommy and Kat unable to care for their kid for the time being. It’s hard being s foster family, but it’s nice being able to see the kids go back to their parents or move on to hopefully better situations. Matt’s at peace, and Trini is too. Trini is a plane mechanic; Matt is a fireman.

Zack Taylor;

During everything Zack and Matt were friends with benefits, though Matt tended to use Zack as an emotional scapegoat as well. Zack finally had enough after a bit, and told Matt either he got his head out of his ass or they weren’t continuing. He was serious, too, and Matt got left in the lurch for a little while before actually looking at himself long and hard and deciding whether or not his grudge was worth losing Zack again. It wasn’t. His parents loved Zack, Kira loved Zack, and most importantly he loved Zack. He came out to his parents and family, and then put in the effort to get over himself to get Zack back. One daughter by surrogate parent, and Matt owes Kim big time. She’s made it clear though. This was for Zack. He gets this, and accepts he and Kim are probably never even going to be friends. His and Zack’s daughter is Layla Cook-Taylor. Layla is sixteen, tiny firecracker of positivity. She has her low moments, but she’s never down for long. She likes swimming and playing guitar. She dances with Zack in dance classes and Matt adores her so so much. She’s frank and earnest and tries her best. She doesn’t give up easily if ever. White ranger. Saba loves her, too. Yes Matt has gotten in arguments with the uppity dagger why do you ask?

Jason Lee Scott;

Getting with Jason felt a little like leaning how to breathe again. Jason came home and Matt quickly got into sparring with him every weekend, like old times. It devolved into a lot of pent up rage related sex. And then all of that was gone…and there were two angry hurt teenagers who didn’t know how to be healthy about love or sex. Cut to fifteen years later, Jason’s a mechanic, Matt’s an accountant. And nothings changed. In between then and now, Jason had a kid. He doesn’t remember who the mother was, and anyway Diego Scott was left on his porch basically. He’s four. Matt likes the way Diego likes piggy backs. And dinosaurs and zombies. Matt likes how whole he feels with Jason and Diego. It’s pretty late in life, but he’s willing to make a go of this, if Jason is willing. And so far, he is. Diego keeps the two on their toes, being ready to get into the thick of everything and anything. But he's four, that's typical, and he's Jason's. And Matt thinks the kid's the best.

Sharkie;

Surprisingly the two manage to click and gel together really well. Three kids, two boys and a girl. Lexie Cook aged 24, Gavin Cook aged 19, and Quincy Cook, aged 17. Sharkie and Matt bonded over being left behind by their friends, though Sharkie doesn’t have any ill will to Bulk or Skull. Stuff happens. The first time he morphed he did it to impress Sharkie and she laughed in his face. He then spent the rest of his life trying to impress her, and stumbled into becoming a better person in the process.

Lexie Cook works as a radio host for a popular music station. She has a popular segment where she runs down the monster of that week and ranks it’s strengths and weaknesses and how to avoid it while putting out a prediction for the next week’s. She does this in between her music playlist, and she’s been right in her predictions a few times. Starts and ends her show saying hi or goodbye to her parents. She has a huge sweet tooth and will do anything for sweets. Lately her brother Gavin's been Off, so she's been adding him in the hi and goodbye, and a 'hang in there bud' as well. not associated with a color

Quincy “Flea” Cook is one of the punks at school, and one of the comedy duo. He's antagonistic to the 'goody twerps' Matt just knows is the power rangers, and neither he nor Sharkie really know if they should step in or just let this play out. Currently letting it play out. Quincy’s grown a lot since the current team's shown up, and he's gotten braver, less self serving, and a lot more noble. Matt's just made sure he's well aware he needs to get out of a situation if buildings are falling. No exceptions. He can grab the person closest to him but he is staying out of the area. Sharkie is making sure he also knows when to stop antagonizing, and know who and what all monsters are. Quincy is in love with art but he's got a Reputation. He's gotten a reputation for being spraypainting sides of buildings. His murals are always well done, but with a sense of humor, and often calling out the villains. Something's up with his older brother though, so he's been trying to figure out what. not associated with a color

Gavin Cook's currently working for the villains. Mind controlled, he's not really even interested in power rangers, normally. Evil ranger sixth ranger, he's been living with a roommate since he was eighteen in an apartment near his parents house and sister's apartment (the reasoning being this is his first try at being properly independent, and if he needs help they're near him to assist if need be). They don't spend enough time with him to know anything other than he's not acting right. Quincy's actively trying to figure out what's wrong though, and Gavin's dreading the day he's going to be told to attack his own family members. He's the villainous Maximum Ranger, and he's waiting for the good rangers to free him and his roommate so he can get back to not caring about power rangers. and hug his family. and go get therapy because yea...he needs to Unpack This. When not a mindcontrolled villain, Gavin's pretty chill. He lets Quincy hang out to get away from their parents, and usually is playing music while watching his brother. He really doesn't give a damn about power rangers, could care less. Matt was one, and that's fine, he's not anymore and Gavin doesn't care about the legacy. He works at the local coffeeshop, which is where the good rangers love hanging out. He hates spying on them, he used to love the atmosphere, and he knows his dad and his job is why he's currently here. All his parents know is he went missing for a week and came back, well, off. They're there when he asks for help, the kicker being, right now Gavin literally cannot.

(maximum is a shade of green)

Marleau Eskin;

He got with her in high school to get back at his former friends and ex girlfriend. It was a joke, turns out he’s the joke. But he and Marcel don’t talk to Marleau anymore. Matt’s a sports reporter, and Marcel’s a professional esport gamer in his late 20’s. Matt sees his kid on the weekends for weekly lunches and check ins. Had to take a second when Marcel said he’d started dating Minh Kwan. Had to decide if the anger was worth it. It wasn’t. He’s not talking to the group still, but Marcel’s got his blessing, and he's fine with Marcel seeing Minh. That has to count for something. Matt was able to prove without a shadow of a doubt that Marleau was a negligent parent, and had left their kid in frankly dangerous situations when he was young. Marcel broke his arm left alone at a park, and Matt was never more happy or enraged. But, it lead to Marcel being genuinely happy as the son of a single parent, so Matt's happy to let him live his life. Also somewhat relieved Minh or her family heard the last name 'Cook' and is still letting this happen. Marcel is not associated with a color.

Stan Skullovitch;

They were kidnapped together and replaced with putties. They were tortured together, and formed a trauma bond. Stan had enough sense to say 'no' to a relationship with someone who 1) hated his brother and 2) was still in highschool. However they kept running into each other over the years. When they did get together, it was when Matt had his head out of his ass a little, and was in a stable job. Stan was a singer at a lounge, and the trauma attraction had settled into a healthier flavor. Everyone's got their opinions on the two getting together but it seems okay right now? Rita as Mystic Mother used magic to give them a child because as Matt pointed out in a confrontation with her; she kind of owed them big time. Ulysses "Bones" Skullovitch is twelve, and kind of a natural wanderer. It's not unusual for him to leave the house at dawn and come back around dinner time with all sorts of things in his pockets. He's not loud, but he's not shy. Prefers watching than acting, though will step up if need be. Stan finds it hard to not worry about him, but Spike and Spike's friends keep an eye on Bones while keeping their distance. He's alright, he's just the kind of person that likes being by himself playing. However he might be getting some friends, and Matt's starting to wonder if power rangers is a genetic thing. Bones will be a red ranger when old enough.

Violet Arias;

she slapped him. Then yelled at him, then apologized because his cheek was swelling and her nail had accidentally caused a cut on his eyelid. He had to wear an eye bandage for two weeks and she gave him flowers. Then he apologized for, well. everything. After that they started dating, balancing his ranger status with school and her trying to be okay with it. They've been in hiding with their kids since Zedd put a price on Matt's head. Myrtle and Tyrian are fifteen and ten, respectively. They don't know their dad was a green ranger and still is when called to be so, Matt's not going to put them in danger over this. As much as he can help, anyway.

Myrtle Arias plays the trumpet in the school marching band. She's extremely good at coded cyphers, and wants to be the president of the united states one day. She's also on the chess team. She has no opinions on the power rangers or the monsters that seem to constantly show up. She's just trying to get through school without being shoved in a locker. Hard to connect to her dad, who was a popular kid, so it's easier to talk to and connect to her mom. is not associated with a color.

Tyrian Arias learned his name's the actual name for the color royal purple (named after the snails whose shells are used for the pigments) and decided he was going to make this his entire personality. He is a ten year old sixth ranger, he is not hiding this. His only saving grace is that he is constantly telling so many tall tales his parents aren't entirely sure if he's telling the truth (and if he is there will be WORDS with whoever gave him Purple), and everyone else thinks he's just an exceptionally imaginitve kid. Matt is...hoping the extra excitable new ranger is not, in fact, his son. However, deep down he knows it's Tyrian and he's freaking out.

-

if there's others I'm not thinking of or missed, please let me know :)

[bornforastorm]

nice guys? or pm 4B 👀👀?

you got it, babe:

nice guys: Holland’s old lunk of a Mercedes is crumpled completely. It’s beyond totalled. There’s steam coming out from under the hood like in a goddamn cartoon. If only Holland had bought that new car he’d been eyeing four months ago. Healy had talked him out of it, but maybe that flashy Mustang had some new safety features that would have helped him. As it is, his old junker didn’t even have seatbelts, let alone an airbag. A part of Healy’s mind says that when they buy Holly a car, hers will have an airbag. 

Emergency workers are standing around, ten feet back from the wreckage, clucking their tongues. The back of Holland’s head is visible over the seat of the convertible, sitting up perfectly straight. A cop hooks Jackson’s arm before he can make it over.

“You Healy?” He nods. The cop, a young guy with a pencil mustache straight out of 1940, frowns. “I’m Officer Flight. We spoke on the phone.”

“Oh, sure,” Healy says. He can’t quite pull his eyes from the back of March’s head. 

“Glad you made it so fast. He wouldn’t let us do anything until you got here. Just kept saying your name. We had to look you up in the book. He’s been conscious through all of it, pretty miraculously, but he’s in real bad shape. You’ve gotta convince him to let us get him out of that car.” 

Jackson nods. Another deep breath. 

The cop pulls him back. “But, look, prepare yourself okay? It’s pretty ugly.” 

And Jackson goes over to the car.

Both of Holland’s hands are on the steering wheel, white knuckled. He’s staring straight ahead with a terrible focus and he’s wearing that horrible purple suit that he’d bought on their first case together. It’s so out of fashion now, and Healy can’t remember him wearing it once in the past year, but here he is wearing it. God, Healy thinks darkly, ain’t that a bookend? 

“Holland?” Jackson puts a hand on Holland’s shoulder, very lightly. “Hey, pal, how ya doing?” 

Holland blinks slowly, his eyelids fluttering. His attention moves just barely from staring at his own knuckles over towards the shape at his shoulder. When he speaks, his voice is bleary like he’s just woken up from a nap. “Hey, aren’t you that diner guy?” 

“Yeah, yeah Holland, it’s me. It’s Jackson. I’m here.” Jackson brushes his fingertips over Holland’s fine, soft hair. He’s in shock, clearly. He’s trembling. This is bad. 

“Fuck, I don’t feel so hot. Where’s Holly?” 

“She’s here. She’s nearby. I wanted to see you first.” 

Holland blinks. Apparently totalling his car hasn’t sobered him up. Or maybe it’s the shock. Or maybe it’s something else. He looks bad. Very, very pale. Wavering like he’s under water. A streak of hair is stuck to his forehead, which is coated in a thin sheen of sweat. 

“You know when I first met you?”

“Yeah?” Healy lifts the lock of hair and lets it hang loose, where it falls over one furrowed eyebrow.

“Some chick had written you will never be happy on my hand.” 

“Okay.” Shock. This has to be the blur of shock. 

“And then a fucking smiley face. Never be happy. That’s fucked up, huh? I thought she was right.”

“What happened here, Holland?” 

His focus is wandering. “Crashed, I guess... But then, you know, I met you and we got going. And things with Holly were better and… I uh, I, I guess I just…. I don’t remember. Fuck, Jack, I don’t know...” 

Jackson looks down and finally sees why everyone was being so morbid. First of all, Holland’s legs-- those long, wonderful legs-- are caught under the mangled wreckage of the engine of his car. That’s ugly enough. Worse is that a sheet of metal from somewhere under the hood has come through the dashboard and didn’t stop until it hit the front seat. It’s sitting now somewhere between Holland’s hip and his ribs, bisecting his right side nearly entirely. There’s a lot of blood and a thick pad of bandages where the EMT’s were able to stop up the bleeding. Jackson’s stomach turns. That’s a mortal wound, he thinks. It’s gotta be. There’s no coming back from this. That Holland is still conscious-- hell, that he’s still alive at all-- is really a miracle. It’s a miracle that the metal came through at such an angle that his spine is still intact. It’s a miracle he wasn’t cut right in half and died immediately. His guts are being held in by that hunk of metal and certainly, when they remove it, he’ll die. That seems to be the only thing that could happen. It’s terrible. Fuck, it’s a goddamn tragedy.

“I mean, I’m dying,” Holland says, with that stubborn certainty of his that inflects down to hell at the end. It would almost be more comforting if he were shrieking, like he usually does in bad situations. Instead, his small, sad voice pulls Jackson’s attention back to his face. “I’m dead. It’s over.”

“Don’t say that.” Healy puts a hip against the car and continues his gentle petting of Holland’s hair. A little smile flickers under Holland’s mustache, which itself is spotted with blood from a bloodied nose. He must have smashed his face against the wheel when he hit the tree. Airbags, man. Holly needs to have airbags.

PM 4B: Terry was sitting in one of the armchairs, stiff backed and jaw clenched, in one of his nice gray suits. He had a bruise blossoming on his cheekbone and his legs crossed at the knee, as if that made him look casual. 

In the other armchair was our old pal Mendy Menendez with a gun in his hand, pointed loosely at Terry. It looked like the past eight years had been hard on him. 

I stayed still in the doorframe. 

Terry gave me a piano wire smile. "We have a guest," he said. 

"Hello, Cheapie," Menendez said. I felt my mouth twist into a grimace. "Funny seeing you here."

"Not particularly," I said. "Seeing as this is where I live."

"Oh yes, Terry was telling me all about that." 

"Was he?"

Menendez stood up and went to stand behind Terry. He put the nose of the gun in the crook of Terry's shoulder. Terry jumped and Mendy clapped a hard hand on the other shoulder, holding him in place.

"What do you want?" I said. I was trying to be cool about it, but there was a risk Menendez would do something rash. He looked like a more desperate figure than I remembered him being. I knew that if he shot Terry like that, there wouldn't be much I could do to save him, unless he was very lucky. 

"I came to visit my friend here, borrow a little capital for a venture I'm working on, and here I find him shacked up with the same cheap nothing who tossed him over years ago."

My teeth scraped against each other. "I'll tell you now what I told you back then: Don't call me cheap." 

He jammed the gun harder into Terry's neck. Terry looked to me a little frantically. 

"You can't play tough with me, Marlowe. I know what's going on down here."

"So you show up and decide to toss threats around? What good do you think this'll do you? If you needed help we won’t give it now." 

“I see what you are,” he growled. I wondered if I ought to give him credit for not outright calling us queers. I expected that from him, and I’d been called worse. It wouldn’t bother me much. 

“So you’re going to blackmail us? I’d like to see you try.” I was bluffing, mostly, but it was true I couldn’t imagine what real threat he thought he could pose. There was no one in our lives to impress anymore. No one who didn’t already at least half know what we were up to and accept it. We were two middle aged men who were living together. It seemed pretty obvious. Any visitor could see we only used the one bedroom. No one had kicked up a fuss yet.

He gave me a nasty look and in one abrupt movement cracked Terry across the back of the head with his pistol. Terry gave a little cry, hardly that, more a grunt, barely a groan, and slumped in his seat. I took a sharp step forwards. 

"If you've hurt him--" Menendez turned the gun on me.

"Now here's the truth of it, Marlowe," he growled at me. I glowered right back. "You're digging into something that's none of your business."

"I thought your business was in Acapulco."

"My business is all over." 

Ignoring the gun, I stepped across the room and kneeled in front of Terry's slumped figure. I checked his pulse-- a little quick but steady-- and checked the back of his head-- pulpy but not seriously injured. Some blood stained his white hair and the back of the armchair. 

"I don't care about your business. I care about my life here, and I care about Terry. Now leave us alone."

His lip curled. “I hate how you say that. Us. We. Like anything has anything to do with you.” I didn’t respond. He changed tactics. "You're working a case, I hear," he said slowly. "Looking into a missing husband?"

"That's right. What's it to you?"

"Let's say I need that husband to stay missing for a while."

"And worry an aggrieved wife? I'd rather not."

"I'd rather you did." Gun still aimed firmly in my direction, he walked in a wide circle over towards the doorway. "I'm sticking around in town, Marlowe. You're not tough. You're old and soft. You’re a pansy. I won't let you ruin another business venture for me. The only reason I don’t kill you now is out of kindness to my old friend there, who apparently cares about you. I owe him a favor, maybe. Just one. I won’t be so kind again."

"Yeah, because you’re such a kind guy. I don't give a shit what you do, Mendy, but if you get in my way, or threaten me or Terry again, one of us will end up dead. And it won’t be me. Don't doubt it."

"We'll see, Marlowe." And then he stepped out of the room and was out of the house. I waited to hear the door slam before lowering my hackles. What a mess. And what a threat I’d put out into the world. I’d killed one person in my entire life, and when I thought about it I still felt sick over it. I’d just promised to kill Menendez in cold blood if he bothered me again. Christ, did I even think I was capable of that? Could I do it even if my life depended on it? If Terry’s life depended on it?