#and I’d much rather he stay dead than this being how he comes back

[euthymiya]

[ ASKING PRICE — FT. KINICH ]

synopsis: kinich isn’t so happy that you spend time with ajaw. you’re more than willing to pay the price to make up for it

before you read: gender neutral reader ; established relationship ; slightly jealous kinich (of ajaw getting more attention) ; ajaw cameo! ; lots of kisses ;) (kinich not ajaw)

You laugh, and Kinich’s vein all but pops.

Normally, he’s agitated by Ajaw on most hours of most days. That much is a well known fact. But not today, though—because today, he’s absolutely infuriated. (And no, this is not on a limited, conditional, restricted, contractual, partial, temporary basis. This anger is very much here to stay and not go anywhere.)

You’re here to complete a commission with him, not spend your time giggling with a certain saurian. And your kindness is very much wasted going towards someone as pompous as Ajaw—still, there’s a part of him that admires it. Only you could manage to be kind to someone as difficult to get along with.

What he doesn’t admire, however, is that you happen to be the one person Ajaw also doesn’t mind being kind to. (Well, as kind as someone like Ajaw can get, that is.)

“—and when the Almighty Dragonlord, K'uhul Ajaw summons the howling winds, and sets the whole world ablaze, you can be the only survivor!”

It’s a grating voice, Kinich thinks distantly, rolling his eyes at the way you chuckle and give a grateful nod, entertaining the pure nonsense of a fool. Ajaw has approximately the same brain power as a dead saurian. That’s to say: none. How you manage to laugh at jokes made by such a simpleton is beyond the comprehension of someone like Kinich—but he supposes you’ve always been kind to a fault. A pity laugh certainly isn’t something you’re above, he supposes.

“Will I have the luxury of ruling by your side as your trusty sidekick?” You play along. It seems to please the dragon, earning a haughty laugh.

“I suppose you can have a small corner to call yours,” he agrees, “just make sure you push that slimy, slithering, miserly worm off a cliff and I’ll allow it.”

You glance over at Kinich as soon as the words are uttered by the obnoxious loud mouth beside you, and he can feel the last of his veins snap—that is, until you smile, giving him a playful wink.

“I’ll see what I can do,” you giggle.

“See?” Ajaw turns to look at him, making Kinich’s eye twitch ever so slightly. “You should be more like this one! The Almighty Dragonlord—h-huh? Hey!”

“Kinich!” You scold, watching as Ajaw cuts himself off with a scream, flying off into the distance from one irritated flick of Kinich’s fingers.

“What?” He huffs, crossing his arms as you throw your head back and laugh.

“You’re cute, you know. When you get like that.”

“Like what?” It comes out as a grumble. A rather petulant one, at that—he almost cringes hearing it in his own tone.

He knows what you mean, too. You know he does, so you reach over to ruffle his hair as his lips curl into a deeper frown. It’s not lost on you, however, that he almost seems to lean into your touch, almost seems to savor the feeling of your palm against his head.

“It’s cute when you’re jealous,” you tease. “Adorable, you know? Seeing you sulk is a bit rare.”

“I was not sulking,” he protests. That, of course, pulls a laugh out of you that makes him sulk even harder. “And I’m not jealous. Being jealous of Ajaw is absurd.”

“Oh but I think you were,” you nudge his shoulder, lips stretching into a knowing grin as he grunts. “Don’t worry, I’d never push you off a cliff.”

“That’s because you’d never manage to,” he shrugs. You give him a playful scowl as you huff, you don’t know that, under your breath. He fights back an amused smile, trying to keep his seriousness in tact. “Have you had enough fooling around? We have a commission to complete. You’re going to make me lose out on mora.”

“Is that so?” You say thoughtfully.

By now, Kinich knows that face. It’s not a very welcomed face, either—it means trouble for him. Some form of scheming on your end that almost always ends with you getting what you want, and almost always ends with him walking away as a loser of sorts. It’s his own fault, of course. Being powerless against your charms is a weakness he’s not entirely managed to overcome yet.

But he’s trying—and he’ll get it one day. He’s sure of it.

“I don’t like that face,” he says dryly, eyeing you cautiously.

“What face?” You gasp, mock innocence feigned even as the mischief creeps into your eyes. He can see it. Sense it. Feel it. Almost like he can tell a foe is coming even before they strike—it’s a practiced precision of sorts.

“That face you make when you’re up to something. I can tell you have something up your—”

You cut him off with a kiss to the corner of his mouth, making him go silent almost instantly. A small part of him can feel his cheeks burn, but the bigger part of him melts before he can even comprehend it.

“What if I paid you a better price,” you murmur, “and commissioned some of your time?”

A hand trails up his chest, rubbing slowly against the expanse of it over his shirt, stopping just over his heart. Evil, he wants to tell you, how evil you are to rest your palm right over his erratic heart.

Like you sense the pounding beat, you grin sweetly.

“You’ll need a better price than that,” he mumbles quietly when he finally finds his voice, clearing his throat subtly.

“Haggling over prices with me?” You pout. “Not even I can get a discount.”

“Of course not,” he says stubbornly. A strong arm wraps around you, pulling you against his sturdy chest as you bite back a grin. “I only accept offers with appropriate prices.”

“Fine,” you pretend to roll your eyes in defeat, leaning in to press a firm peck to his lips. “Will that cover it?”

“Not quite,” his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer. Impossibly closer. So close, you think his lips could knock into yours from a gentle breeze alone.

But he’s still. Patient. Painfully observant as his eyes stare into you and wait for what he wants—and, well, Kinich always gets his asking price. One way or another, he never walks away short of a single mora.

Or kiss.

So you lean in, pressing your mouth to his as your hands cup his face, tracing the skin above his cheekbone delicately as he sighs softly. His eyes flutter closed, and briefly, he thinks how nice it is when it’s just you. And him. And no Ajaw.

He should keep it like that more often.

He needs it, you think. Needs to feel you up close and personal, needs to know you’re here and staying, needs to know you’re his and only his.

He lets out a soft sound of protest when you finally break away, earning a quiet chuckle from you before you plant a sweet kiss to his jaw.

“How was that?” You whisper, kissing along his jawline, earning a small shiver of approval from him. “Was that payment enough?”

“I suppose for now,” he mumbles.

“Now you’re just being greedy,” you tease, grinning against his skin.

But you know as well as he does, you’re than happy to afford his prices. And then some, too. You’re as generous about spending as he is enthusiastic with taking.

“Or maybe you’re just being stingy,” he shoots back. With a fond shake of your head, your lips are back on his, cradling his face as he leans into you until he can’t tell where you start and where he ends.

It’s hard not to give into your charms, but he’s not so sure it’s a losing battle. It feels suspiciously close to a win, in fact—that is, if Ajaw stays far, far away. (And again, it would be nice if it was not on a limited, conditional, restricted, contractual, partial, temporary basis.)

He’s sooooo cute and his backstory literally haunts me I want to kiss him so bad you guys don’t get it. I was supposed to skip him but 173 wishes later I now have a c4 diluc and a c0r1 kinich 🥹

[sophiethewitch1]

congrats on the milestone sophie! i'm so excited to read what you have to share with us! For your 1k celbration, if it's not too much, I'd like to ask for ABXS for Jason and Dick uwu And if ur feeling particularly sharing I'd also love an L from all of them owo

Strei!!! Thank you for the kind words, here's what you asked for. I even did the L's as well for my dearest most beloved mutual <3

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gen yandere behaviour, murder, stalking, worshipping/weirdly religious undertones for Dick, um pet play sort of?? Jason would bark if you asked him to is all I'm saying.

A = Affection (Is Their Love All-consuming, Expressed Through Possessive Gestures and Overwhelming Intensity With No Bounds?):

Jason: Spreading my Jason Todd Loyal Dog Agenda here but he’s so unbelievably loyal. Way, way too loyal. It doesn’t matter if he personally agrees with whatever your decisions are, he’s listening like the loyal hound he is. Will push and prod at you, but at the end of the day, he’s devoted. While he’d always prefer to be as close to you as possible, he’s willing to stay away if that’s what you really want. Simple guy, aware of himself, and mostly in control of his more fervent tendencies. He refuses to lose control of you, to take too much, so he doesn’t take any. Just giving, giving, giving. He only hopes you’ll take him.

Dick: Dick is probably one of the most clingy yanderes out there. While others might stalk you, or protect you from afar, that’s not Dick’s methodology. He wants to be with you all the time, and make you happy all the time, and he spends his afternoons daydreaming about sitting between your thighs for hours at a time. All the time, if it was possible. While he’s trying not to overwhelm you, he’ll stay as calm and charming as possible. But eventually, he’s going to have to start confessing his love to you because he feels like he’ll explode with it. Along with acts of service, physical affection, and verbal affection, he also really likes buying you things. He’s an all-rounder. Still, he prefers buying you experiences rather than items, like holidays or trips to the fair. He decides against buying you a private island to visit for the summer, but only after staring at the property page online for three hours straight. Like I said, he really is trying!

B = Blood (How Messy Are They Willing to Get in Pursuit of Their Darling? Would They Embrace Chaos and Revel in the Crimson Tableau Painted by Their Actions?):

Dick: I’ve mentioned before that he’s pretty hesitant to kill. He’s gotten over his wild younger years, and is now more mature and in control of emotions. Now, all of that is one huge lie he tells himself that only lasts as long nobody ever tries to hurt you. Dick wears his heart on his sleeve, and then it gets even worse when you come around because his heart is just walking around outside his chest, with no aknowledgement for the dangers of the world. He does try, he really does, but when he snaps, he snaps hard. He’s not too bad of a sadist (also a lie) but when he easily catches whoever has been bothering you, he… well, he might play with them. Just a little bit. He doesn’t kill, he’s very careful of that, but honestly if I was that poor soul, I’d rather be dead. And then the next day, he goes back to being the cheerful sweetheart we all know and love!

Jason: I’ve also mentioned that Jason, unlike Dick, is very, very eager to get bloody. In canon, he enjoys punishing sinners and whatnot, and when he’s fallen for you, uh… So, basically, Jason would rather die than admit it, but he thinks of himself as your protector, your knight in shining leather armour. And along with that previously mentioned possessiveness, he totally lets it get out of hand. He’s aware you probably don’t want him slaughtering everyone who has ever harmed a single hair on your head, but unless you specifically tell him not to, he’s not going to stop. But if you do, he will. He’s loyal, he’s fervent in that loyalty. He wants to destroy anything that could ever hurt you. But he’d never go against your ruling, your will. He might complain about it, though. Loudly, very loudly. However, if you do want everyone who has ever annoyed you dead, he’s totally up for it no questions asked. Would probably consider it a date night of sorts.

S = Stigma (Can the Roots of Their Obsession Be Traced to a Dark Past, a Blend of Childhood Trauma, Twisted Curiosity, and a Skewed Perception of Love?):

Dick: Oh boy, this guy… He’s the poster child for childhood trauma affecting your perception of love. When his parents were murdered, he latched onto Bruce. And when Bruce kicked him out, he latched onto Bludhaven. And now when even Bludhaven can’t bring him any semblance of comfort, of home, you’re fucking heaven-sent. He latches onto you like a benign growth, and god help anyone who tries to tear the two of you apart.

Jason: Oh boy times two. Not the best childhood, raised on the streets. Taken in by Bruce, things are looking better and then- Well, we all know what happens then. After the trauma of literally digging himself out of his own grave, he feels a bit… disconnected from the world? He feels like a ghost, like he’s still dead, like his death never even mattered and the world kept going after he’d been gone. And that’d fuck up anybody, but someone personally trained by the Batman? Woof. We see in Under The Red Hood that Jason really does think vengeance is proof of love, at least in his case. To him, love is bloody and ruthless. It’s cannibalistic. A give and take. But since he doesn’t want to take from you, he’ll just give himself over wholly.

X = Xoanon (Does Their Reverence for Their Darling Border on Worship, Reaching Extreme Lengths to Prove Their Devotion and Ensure Unwavering Loyalty?):

Dick: He sees you like the sun. Powerful, brilliant, beautiful. And you’ll probably burn him to cinders as he loves you, but he doesn’t care. He probably enjoys the idea a little. Wouldn’t it be nice, to die in your arms? To close his eyes and disappear into you, where he’d never be apart from you again? He realises that sort of thinking is a bit creepy, but it’s one of the few things he simply can’t fight against. Not even the littlest bit. He’s self-aware to know he’s putting you on a pedestal, that you’re not some god or something, you’re just like him. Human. Maybe that makes him worship you even more. He can’t tell, it’s too blurry these days. He just knows you’re important, more so than he is. More so than anything is, really. Also, gotta mention body worship kink. Like, he’s really way too into it honestly. He’ll service you for however long you can last, and then place a hundred kisses against your exhausted body telling you how good you did, how perfect you are. When you look at him after a session like that, you can always see something a little too intense, too crazed to be called love. He knows he’s trying to hide it. He’ll do better next time, okay?

Jason: You’re his master. The hand around the leash. He’s angry at the world, so fucking angry. He wants to destroy it all. Assuming here, you probably don’t want the entire world blown to smithereens, so you’re his… conscience. Whatever you say goes. If you say Joker dies today, then he dies. If you say he can never kill another soul, then he won’t. He’s sassy about all of it, but it’s painfully obvious to literally everyone that he will follow every single order you give. And of course, he wants it that way. Maybe he really should get a collar for himself. He thinks it’d be cute, with your name on it in brilliant gold letters. He certainly thinks that the reaction his goons would give would be worth the effort, never mind your own reaction. Call him your good boy and you will get railed so hard you break the bed, lmfao

L = Love Letters (Is Courting an Intricate Dance Marked by Obsessive Letters and Gestures That Blur the Line Between Devotion and Insanity?):

Dick: I can’t see Dick ever actually sending you the letters he writes, but my god, he writes them. At first, it’s just little doodles in the corners of his very important paperwork, and then he’s scribbling on sticky notes, and eventually, he just gives in and buys a fucking notebook. They’re long winded and silly and he’d absolutely rather die than share them with you. But they make it just the slightest bit easier to choke down his devotion to you, so it doesn’t strangle him right then and there. He almost finds it as addicting as you are, almost being the keyword here. It’s genuinely pretty embarrassing, from an outsider’s standpoint. It’s like what a middle schooler would write in their diary, just lots of your name and hearts and very ridiculous poetry. He’d be good at it if it wasn’t about you, okay?

Jason: Jason, in direct contrast to Dick, writes very good poetry. Especially when it’s about you. It’s the sort of stuff they’ll put in museums, that future historians will write about. Of course they won’t know half of his more demented metaphors are just… straight up things he’s done for you. It’s flowing and beautiful and it’d make you tear up if you ever read it. You probably won’t just because Jason doesn’t really care if you read it, so he won’t share it with you on purpose. However if you find him one day in the library, and you ask to see whatever it is he’s made, you’ll be so very, very lucky. And Jason will turn tomato red, so that’s another plus.

Tim: Everybody knows that when Tim starts a list again, his mental health is on the decline. The list about you is concerningly long. And I’m really not saying that lightly, for Mr ‘I stalk literally everyone at least a little bit’. It’s something at four hundred thousand words by now, he’s not sure exactly. The little note app on his phone has had to suffer through hundreds or even thousands of hours of Tim writing down the most minute details of you and your life. How do you like to sit best? Is your posture okay, or should he worry about it? When you’re hungry, what food do you go for first? What about when you’re sick? If he’s ever around, tapping away on his phone, and you think he’s not paying you any attention, you’d be very, very wrong. Would probably share it with you just to laugh at your horrified face.

Damian: Damian was raised to perfect every form of art, from martial to dance, to even the more traditional ones. He’s always had a fondness for painting, and you’re most certainly his muse. Instead of letters, he paints you. For every memory he has of you, he has at least a sketch. He doesn’t care for almost all of them, as he doesn’t think they capture your beauty properly, so he doesn’t really care what happens with said drawings. Your first meeting has been drawn at least twenty times, and your sleeping face probably double that. Yes, he does draw you in more passionate poses as well. Your face all fucked out, drool leaking from your lips, is a personal favourite of his. He’ll probably share those ones with you, enjoying seeing you squirm. Asking if you want to help him find some extra inspiration because he’s all irritatingly smooth like that. Will laugh if you crush the lewd drawing up, agreeing it doesn’t do you justice. He’ll just have to try again.

[shadowandlightt]

Of Nightmares and Memories |Ten| Azriel X Rhysand's Sister! Reader

Series Warnings: Kidnapping. Mistreatment. Cursing. Pining. Violence. Depression. Talks of suicide. Eventual smut

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine

He kept saying your name like a prayer, chanting it over and over again. As if he couldn’t believe you were really right in front of him. You weren’t sure you could believe it either. After spending so many years thinking you’d never see him again. You clutched onto him, afraid he would disappear back into the shadows if you let him go. So afraid he would vanish, like he always did in your dreams. 

“How is this possible,” He whispers against you. Though you aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or Rhys. You aren’t even sure if he knows that he asked such a question. 

“Tamlin,” was Rhys’ only reply. 

The male in front of you growled. He actually growled and held you tighter. You could feel his hold all the way down to your bones. The force of it knocks the air out of your lungs. But you don’t mind it, you relish in it.

“I’ll kill him,” Az growled, “I’ll fucking kill him.”

His shadows were swirling around ferociously. You knew he meant it, he would kill Tamlin given the chance. But Tamlin’s life wasn’t yours to take. You never loved him, he didn’t take everything from you. He tried, but your family still exists, you still have some semblance of hope. Feyre doesn’t. She has nothing. You saw the look in her eyes the first day she was free, before Rhys swept her away to Valaris. 

“No,” You spoke, pulling away from Azriel entirely, “You won’t touch him.” 

“Y/N,” His eyes widened and then narrowed with anger. 

He was mad at you. Mad that you somehow didn’t want to see Tamlin die. You didn’t want to stoop to his level and see him dead. Or maybe you did, but he wasn’t yours to take. That belongs to Feyre, and Feyre alone now. 

“Get your things,” Azriel snapped, “I’m taking you to Valaris.” 

“No!” You yelled, taking a step back, “I don’t want to go back there.”

Rhys takes a step towards you, putting his hand out for you. You take another step back, thinking about retreating to your rooms. You could be safe there, they wouldn’t bother you there, you could ward the rooms against them. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Rhys warns, “You aren’t running from this.” 

“I’m not ready.”

Your voice breaks as tears prick your eyes. How could either of them understand that the thought of being in Valaris without your mother was enough to break you? Couldn't they tell you were close to breaking as it is? That’s why Rhys called for Az, hoping he would hold you together long enough for you to find a way to live again. 

“Y/N, please,” Rhys begged, “I can’t leave you here alone anymore.” 

“It’s worked so far,” You replied, tears falling down your cheeks. 

“No, it hasn’t,” He shakes his head, “You’re slipping, and I refuse to lose you too. Not when I just got you back.”

You want to scream and fight, but you don’t have any fight left in you. You have nothing left but the empty hole in your chest. The hole that feels slightly less vast with Azirel standing in the room with you. It’s strange really, just how much his presence seems to help you. 

“I’d rather stay here,” you beg him, beg for him to see that being back in Valaris would kill you. Kill you faster than Tamlin ever could.

Az growled again, causing you to take a step back, “You’re coming home.” The mountain around you seemed to rumble as you stepped forward, sizing up Az and Rhys. Once upon a time you could take them in a fight, they made you work for it and you’d be dripping with sweat by the end of it, but you could still take them. 

Your hands curled into fists, nails digging into the skin so hard you bled. You didn’t notice though, not when all you could think about was being forced to go back home, a place you never thought you’d ever see again. A place you weren’t sure if you belonged to anymore. 

“I don’t belong there,” You said quietly, shaking your head, “I haven’t belonged there in a long time. I’d be better suited down in the mountain now.” 

“That’s a bold lie,” Az scoffed, “You belong in the Rainbow, you always have.”

His touch was light on your arm, siphons glowing such a beautiful blue. You missed the sight of them, all seven of them. Further proving that he’s one of the strongest warriors to come out of Illiryia. He and Cassian both. 

Cassian…you missed him in a different way from how you missed Azriel. Cas might as well be another brother to you. You’d only ever seen him as such, but Az.. You never saw Azriel as a brother. You always saw him as something else, something stronger. When you were a child you would beg the Mother to make you and Az mates, beg and beg to the point where you’d be in tears. 

The first time he kissed you, you swore you saw the stars light up in his eyes. Those beautiful haunted eyes that always seemed softer around you. The smile that always seemed unbridled for the first time in centuries. You loved him. Mother above did you love him. 

“Please, don’t make me go back.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks. You wanted to go home, almost more than anything, but you knew that you would never be accepted there again. Not after your mother’s death, her blood stained your hands just as much as it stained Tamlin’s. 

Speaking of blood, Az reached for your hands as droplets fell onto the beautiful moonstone floor. Gently uncurling them, dislodging your nails from your skin. A sob fell from your lips, you didn’t deserve his tender touch. You never did. 

You didn’t deserve him as your mate either. Maybe that’s why the Mother decided not to make it so. You weren’t going to be blessed by the Cauldron when it came to Az. Maybe it was for the best, you would only destroy him too. 

“Come home,” His eyes looked deeply into yours. No hint of the legendary Spymaster of The Night Court. There was only your Az. So soft and gentle with you, like you were a wisp that would just disappear. Maybe you were just a wisp. Maybe you were destined to just fall apart and fall away. Fade into nothingness. 

“I don’t know how,” you admit quietly to him and him alone. 

You knew Rhys was still standing there, arms crossed, ghosts of tears in his eyes. But he wouldn’t step in, he wouldn’t try to breach your mind. He would give you as much space as he could, all while making sure you were only a short distance away from him. He’d given you as much space as he possibly could, and now he wanted you back under his roof again. 

“Just hold onto me,” Az whispered to you, “I won’t let you go.”

Your head finds his chest, resting there as his wings come around you, cocooning you in them. You felt the safest you had in hundreds of years. Safe in his arms, safe in his love. Because you knew he loved you, just as he knew you loved him. 

You told him that day before Tamlin’s family stole you away. You reached into his mind, begging him to help you, begging him to get Rhys, because they were together. And once you realized he wouldn’t make it in time, you said the last few words to him. Confessing your love so at least he would know. 

Tears are once again falling down your cheeks and onto his leathers. He tightens his grip around you, holding you impossibly closer to his body. There’s very little space between the two of you. For a moment you could almost swear this is some sort of sick twisted dream. But this is better than a dream. Having him here, really here, is better than anything you could have dreamt of. 

“Come home,” He whispers to you, so quiet you know Rhys would have to strain to hear, “Come back to me, my love.” 

You broke then, sobbing. Because he’d only called you that once and it was the day everything happened. You clutched onto him, as if he was the only thing keeping you from slipping away. Maybe he was. 

“Be strong for me,” He repeated the words he said in pure panic that day. Only now his voice is strong, soft, and steady. 

“I don’t know how.” 

“Lean on me,” He replies, “Lean on me, Cas, and your brother. Lean on us, let us in. Let us help you.” 

“I’m too scared.”

“I know you are, my love, I know,” He softly coos, trying to calm you, “But you can do this. I know you can.” 

“Az-” 

“Come home with me,” He pleads, stroking your hair, “Come home.”

You could feel your resolve slipping away. The need to be near him took over. Now that you’d had a small taste of life without him, you couldn’t imagine being alone in the palace anymore. You weren’t sure if you could handle the busy streets of Valaris, but you missed it. So much that your chest ached with the thought of it. But you missed Azriel even more. 

“Come back to me,” He said, cradling your head to his chest, “Come home with me.”

You bit back any more excuses you could think of and instead just nodded. Because you didn’t want to be apart from him any longer. You still weren’t sure if you deserved to return home after everything you did. But you did know that you couldn’t be separated from Azriel any longer, it would kill you. 

“Okay,” You whimpered. 

Light came around you again as Az unwrapped his wings. Rhys was eyeing you both carefully. Not quite sure what to do or how to react. He’d never seen you and Az look so intimate before, but he knew in his soul that it was right. He would never try to keep the two of you apart as your father had. Because he knew there was no better person to love his little sister than Azriel. 

“Okay?” Rhys questioned. 

“Let’s go get your things, okay?” Az asked you carefully. 

You just nod in his arms, not wanting to let him go just yet. Shadows swirled around you, tangling into your hair, singing their sweet song gently into your ear. You felt at home in his arms, with his shadows swirling around the two of you. You felt at home with him, and everything he was. 

“Okay,” You whisper, looking up at him, “But can you kiss me again?”

His beautifully scarred hands gently cupped your cheeks, shadows twirling around his arms, kissing your cheeks with their soft, cool, touch. 

“I’ll kiss you all of the time,” He promised, “I have you back, and I don’t want to let you go.”

You could feel it then, the little thread in your chest pulling taunt. The one that you ignored for years. It was as if your whole heart started to beat again, after being still for so long. He was single handedly bringing you back to life. A job only he could do. 

He leaned down and captured your lips with his, kissing you so softly that you groaned and pulled him closer, wanting to feel all of him. You forgot about your brother being in the room, who’d now turned his back to give you privacy. 

You broke away from him first, gasping for air. He quite literally kissed away the air from your lungs. It made you laugh, a sound you hadn’t heard in a very long time. 

“Let’s go home,” You took a deep breath as you said it, squeezing Azriel’s hand, “Take me home, Az…Please.”

Tag List

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[aphroditeinthesea]

will solace x chaotic daughter of dionysus reader where he's the responsible one thats like "don't do that. you'll die" and reader's like "yeah whatever" ?

" long story short i survived "

will solace x reader ☀️

three times when y/n was crazy and three times when will loved her anyway

tw none

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆ 𖤓 ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

“Funny meeting you here,” was all Will heard as he walked past a room in the infirmary. He stopped in his tracks and peered into the room. There, lying on a bed, was his girlfriend.

“Y/N,” he spoke as he entered the room, “what happened?” Concern filled his voice, but at the same time, he couldn't be too worried. After all, her winding up in the infirmary was a common occurrence.

“Silly story actually, you're gonna laugh,” she prefaced, “so, you know how there’s like archery practice?”

He nodded along, “I pretty much know the concept.”

“Good, that's good,” she continued, “so there was this really crazy looking bug like you should've seen it, and then-”

“Please don't say what I think you're about to say.”

She aggressively nodded, “if you think I’m about to say that I accidentally walked into the middle of an archery practice and got shot in the foot, then I’ll just say quiet.”

“Y/N,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “can you go one day without almost dying?”

“Is that rhetorical? Because I don't appreciate that, Will Solace.”

He laughed, he leaned closer to her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, “I’d just like to not be worried about you 25/8.”

“Twenty-five eight, really?”

“Will!” Someone yelled from the hall.

“Coming!” He called back before turning back to the girl, “I love you, don't die,” he quickly kissed her before rushing out of the room.

It was late at night, not even two days later, that y/n ran into cabin seven, slamming the door behind her. Several of Apollo’s children gave her strange looks, except for Will, who only looked confused.

“Y/N?”

She smiled, making her way over to him, “Willy!”

“Willy?” He questioned with a laugh.

She sat on his freshly made bed, “I need to stay in your cabin tonight.”

“As fun as getting in trouble for you sounds,” he began, sitting beside her, “can you at least tell me why?”

“Funny story-”

“Is it actually though?”

She bit her lip and looked away, “for spectators, not victims,” she answered, “basically, Annabeth let me borrow this book and I forgot about it and then I accidentally spilled orange juice all over it, so I left iron the doorstep of the Athena cabin and I’m gonna wait until she notices, where then she will ultimately try to kill me dead.”

“Rather than kill you alive?” One of his siblings interjected.

“Kill you alive blah blah,” y/n muttered in a mocking voice.

Will chuckled, placing a comforting hand on her back, “you can stay. Only because I’m also scared of Annabeth.”

She pressed a kiss to his lips, "you're the best.”

Another day, during Capture the Flag, y/n had decided to climb a tree, being too tired to actually participate in the game. However, she hadn't actually put into consideration how she was going to get down.

“Y/N?” she heard the all too familiar voice from the ground.

She looked down to find Will standing with his sister, Kayla. “Hey, sweetheart. Hi, Kayla,” she waved down.

“What are you doing?” Kayla called up.

“It’s a funny story actually-”

“I really don’t think it’s gonna be,” Will mentioned.

Y/N huffed, “I’m about to come down, one second,” she stood on the branch, about to jump down.

“Y/N, Baby,” He yelled, “as a doctor, I can tell you the chances of you not breaking a bone are close to none.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve done this before.”

“That actually makes it worse, y/n.”

She prepared herself to jump down despite the yell of the two children of Apollo and several other campers who had come over to watch the spectacle. She took a deep breath and leaped off of the branch.

You could think that this was one of those things where she jumped and landed in Will’s arms and like rode into the sunset or whatever. It kinda was like that actually, except might have landed on Will’s arm instead. The left one specifically.

“I guess you could say you fell for me,” she giggled, beginning to stand up. She grabbed his hand to help him up too.

“I’m actually surprised we’re both still alive.”

“I told you it would be fine, you worry too much, love.”

[bitethedevil]

Hello, hope you're having a lovely day ♡ Very important question regarding Raphael science for a Raphael scientist: He has lived for thousands of years, which makes me wonder—does he have exes? What kind of people were they to get his attention to that extent? Or maybe he's not the settling-for-one kind of guy?

Thank youuu! You too <3 And thank you for the ask

Raphael and Love

I’ve made a post about devil’s when it comes to sex and love before. The more human-like a devil is, the more they are able to crave sex and even a selfish form of love. They might not be able to love back, but they can want to be loved and adored.

Cambions are solitary creatures. They are disliked by mortals and devils alike, so they are often lone wolves who in some cases even prefer to stay alone. Raphael is no exception. I’ve said this before and some people are like “but he sees people all the time. And what about Haarlep? What about Hope?”. It doesn’t count in my opinion. He doesn’t see mortals as equals and it’s the same concept as you seeing people at work. You don’t bond with them and there is no connection. Haarlep is essentially a sex slave, so again, they serve a purpose. Hope is more prey than anything else. They are not ‘real’ connections but rather tools. Raphael is a loner.

Since Raphael is pretty human-like for a devil, I’d say he does crave love and adoration, for sure, but specific to him I don’t think he would be caught dead admitting it. Raphael needs no one but Raphael. In my mind it ties to Haarlep’s form too. It might be just as much be due to a feeling of security as it is just pure narcissism.

Let’s do a bit of psychoanalysis here. We don’t know how Raphael has grown up but we know that his mother is likely dead and Mephistopheles is…well…Mephistopheles, so loneliness is no stranger to him. Kids who grow up like that often become self-sufficient, but they also won’t trust others to care for them. I think Raphael is no different (hence Haarlep taking his own form). Also, as a sidenote, people who has had a shitty childhood and upbringing sometimes cling to the past to gain any semblance of control and Haarlep is wearing a younger-looking version of himself. Have fun with that one.

I think that if Raphael was to have a relationship with anyone, it would take a fucked-up power dynamic. He doesn’t trust in others so he would need someone he can control completely, and he would not be caught dead being vulnerable with such a person. When it comes to romantic relationships, he is not the type, I think. When it comes to sex? Oh, for sure. He has fucked plenty and it’s all about power, not love. You see this with the deleted “thousand mistresses thing” and while that seems to refer to Haarlep, I think that’s a later addition. Raphael is not that much of a cringefail loser to make a comment like that if it refers to Haarlep in my mind.

He's a complicated dude. I’ve played around with the idea that he has loved before in fics and stuff, but I think it would take very special circumstances for him to actually do so. His love would also not be what we think of when we think of the concept. His love would be obsessive and toxic and there’s clues to this with Hope. The chase might excite him. He likes people who are puzzles and he likes defiance, but he’s like a dog chasing a car. He’d have no idea what to do with them if he actually succeeded, and if he did, they would once again revert to being tools. Tools that are just there to adore him and for him to control (like with the debtors and all those rules he has in his house). 

[softpascalito]

I To Dig a Grave I Chapter 5 I

Summary: Twenty-one years after the outbreak, you come to Wyoming looking for something and end up in Jackson after a stranger saves your life.

But he doesn't stay a stranger.

Turns out Joel Miller is looking for something too. It feels like a fresh start. But when bad luck seems to follow you, Joel is the only one to turn to, forcing both of you to confront your feelings about your pasts- and each other.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 20k+ Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Age Difference, Smut, Explicit Content, Grief/Mourning, Mental Health Issues, Canon-Typical Violence, Chose not to use Archive Warnings, Tags to be added

AO3 LINK // Series Masterlist // Playlist

notes: between writing this and the voice memo of pedro on omars new album? im in the trenches. sending all of you lots of smooches for the recent comments and feedback, please know that i do a lil jump every time i see someone has commented <3

this fic will deal with heavy topics. please note that it doesn't use archive warnings and tags will be added as we go in order to avoid spoilers. each chapter will have detailed warnings in the end notes on ao3.

Chapter 5 – The Wake

‘I don’t mind so much being haunted by a dead ghost, but I resent like hell being haunted by a half-dead one.’ — J.D.Salinger, Franny and Zooey

The typewriter is fixed by the time you get up. But before you can sit down and ponder how to begin your speech, Joel forces you downstairs for some breakfast. He has somehow gotten his hands on orange juice and refuses to let you leave the table before you’ve had two glasses and some toast.

Eventually, he clears his throat. “We could grab some of your stuff today, if you want.” He pauses for a moment, searching your face. “Or I could, if you prefer to—if you’d rather stay here.”

The thought of going back home seems unbearable. The thought of Joel leaving you alone seems almost as bad.

“Can’t we do that tomorrow? I’d rather—I want to finish the speech. And we’re leaving in a bit.”

“Okay,” Joel mumbles. “Okay, yeah, we can do it some other time.”

You both head back into his workshop upstairs afterwards. He’s laid out some paper and pulled up a more comfortable chair for you. He settles down on his own and watches as you hesitantly begin to type, occasionally glancing out of the window. It’s begun to snow again, the thick flakes drifting against the other side of the glass and beginning to pile up on the windowsill below.

“If it keeps snowing like that, they won’t be able to prepare the grave, will they?”

Joel stares at the book that's spread out in front of him, determined not to let your eyes meet.

“I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”

They're not the words he should be saying. But they are the only ones able to push past his throat and flow into the open.

***

“Watch out for the steps, they’re frozen over.” Joel closes the front door behind himself, taking his first breath of cold air. It’s still snowing and he watches as the first flakes settle on your coat. He hurriedly pushes his gloves onto his hands and follows you down the small flight of stairs that leads to the street.

You place your feet carefully, partly because you would not find slipping and landing on your butt entertaining and partly because your body feels like it belongs to someone else again. You automatically turn to your left but Joel catches your arm before you can begin to move down the street. He jerks his head to the street ahead of you instead, the one that follows along the walls of the graveyard. They seem to have gotten much taller than they were a few days ago.

“We can get to the church through here,” Joel says, his hand squeezing your arm before he lets it go. “Less people.”

“Good point,” you agree quietly and begin moving again, this time across the street and past the green house on the corner. Joel follows your lead, putting himself between you and the graveyard, his broad form shielding you from view.

Which is a stupid thought, you think after a few moments. It's not you he is trying to hide. You are the one he's hiding something from.

You slow down a little, making Joel glance back at you. As his hand nudges yours again, you notice that his gloves are the same ones he wore when you met. A little more worn down maybe, but still the same leather, the same shade of brown. And here he is, still saving you, even if in a completely different way.

“Come on. We’ll be late.” Joel pulls on your hand lightly and you begin walking again. You don’t let go of his hand though. He doesn’t mention it.

When you pass the large metal gate that opens to the cemetery, you automatically turn your head. “It’d be quicker through here.”

Joel's head swirls around at that. “No.” You almost think you feel a slight tremor in his hand as he shakes his head. “I think it's better if we stay on the street for now.”

His hand is still in yours so you don’t find it in yourselves to argue, even if you find the cemetery quite beautiful. It feels less like a cemetery and more like a small park, with high trees and benches, a small oasis from the occasionally busy life in Jackson.

You can’t really tell if you’ll still find it beautiful once Lane's name will be carved into one of the headstones.

The two of you walk in silence for the remainder of the way. As you reach the far end of the church and when your gaze moves past the library shed tucked away to the side of it, you make a mental note to check in there once you’re done. You try and distract yourself by keeping your eyes on it, thinking about which books you could take home to pass the time with, trying to make a mental list.

But as soon as you step over the holy threshold, you can’t name a single one. The scent of burned down candles and wood greets you.

“I think I may pass out.”

Joel instantly switches his hands, wrapping his free arm around you, no doubt ready to catch you if your knees do give out. “Like right now?”

“No, I—I've just—never done this before,” you choke out. You’ve seen Infected and bodies and funerals. But there’s never been a wake. People just die and rot in this world. 

You suddenly feel like you want to cry and desperately try to pull yourself together. If this is the last chance to say goodbye, you want to do it with grace and you want to do it right. For Lane’s sake.

You take a shaky step forward and Joel takes the hint, moving you further down the hallway and stopping in front of a door to the left that is slightly ajar. His arm is still around you, his hand resting in yours.

“Want me to wait here?” His voice is low.

“Is she in there?” Your voice is equally quiet, matching the somber atmosphere around you.

Joel takes in your features for a moment before giving a slow nod. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s in there.”

“Can we go in together?”

You are certain you do come near to passing out when you step into the room, pressing your body against Joel’s, unconsciously using him as a shield. There is a small table full of candles to your left, a stained glass window half covered by snow at the far end of the room and two mismatched chairs to the right.

You do not see any of it. The second the door opens, your eyes are on her.

She’s bedded in a wooden coffin with white sheets. Her skin is almost as pale. The stark contrast that draws your eyes in is her hair. Ocean blue, the tips already losing their color.

Joel looks down at you, carefully and slowly disentangling himself from you. “Would you like a moment alone?” The small nod is all he needs to see, squeezing your hand once more before heading back outside, leaving the door ajar.

It suddenly strikes you how still she is. A body, usually so full of life, decorated by countless miniscule motions. The corners of her lips turning upward, the anxious turning of the silver rings on her fingers, a strand of hair falling into her face.

You move closer. You sit next to her. You stroke her cheek. She looks like she’s sleeping very deeply.

Joel lets out an involuntary sigh as he steps back out into the hallway. They managed to get the blood out of her hair, covered the right side of her head with a pillow. It almost looked comfortable. And he feels like he can breathe again. It’s a much better sight than the one in the cabin. You shouldn't have to remember her wounds. Only her face.

But he finds that he’s glad to get a moment alone. Because unlike you, he knows exactly what her temple looks like under the dainty, white pillow.

He sits down on one of the wooden benches lining the hallway, making sure to keep his movements quiet. Not because there is an enemy around. But because the wooden structure around him takes him right back.

He hasn’t been to a service in forever, not even before the outbreak. But the high ceiling and the stagnant air still make him automatically lower his voice, making him feel like he’s all of eight years old again and dressed for Sunday service with his parents somewhere just outside of Austin.

He hasn’t had time to consider how to do this, a small voice in the back of his head says. He hasn’t considered how the hell he will get you through this in one piece, if he is the one that should be doing so. There is so much baggage in him, tucked away into the dusty corners of his house, that he’s surprised you haven’t found it yet.

He stares at the floor and wonders if it had been easier for him to move on if he’d been able to say goodbye in a pretty room, surrounded by candles and lacy pillows, with high ceilings above. And for a split moment, he allows himself to imagine the hair resting on white sheets not to be blue but dark brown and curly.

Joel is leaning against the wall of the hallway when you finally emerge from the room, managing a weak smile. He stays quiet as you step towards him, raising your arms to sneak them around his body while you bury your face in his chest.

You can feel the exhale of his lungs below you as he sighs, bringing his arms around you and pulling you into him.

It comes so naturally now. The way he rests his chin on the top of your head, your hair tickling his graying beard. The feeling of your face pressed tightly into him, clearly having found a place where you can hide from the questions you already know people are asking.

Joel's hand caresses your back in gentle motions. His voice remains as quiet as it was earlier. “Did you say goodbye, darlin’?”

“Yeah,” you mumble into his chest, giving a shaky nod. “Yeah, I did.”

“Wanna take a break and go back in? Or come back later?” he offers quietly. He knows exactly how hard it is to let go—to walk away from the last piece that they leave behind when they leave the earth. The body holds so many memories.

“No, I think—I think it’s okay.” Hot tears have gathered in your eyes and threaten to spill into Joel's shirt. “I think I said goodbye.”

Joel quietly coos at you for a few more moments before he begins leading you back outside. He’s content to leave the church behind that feels so laden with bad memories despite it holding none.

You're just leaving the small hallway and passing back through the church when he abruptly moves you to his side, putting a small amount of distance between you. His arm is still wrapped around your waist but it's less strong, merely enough support to keep you from falling back.

“Oh. Hello, you two.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you stare at the woman in front of you. She has short hair that's tied in a neat bun. The lines and wrinkles on her face seem to have increased rapidly since you have last seen her. She's wrapped in her black winter coat, one that is slightly too big for her small frame and almost reaches her knees. You realize that all her clothes are, in fact, black, even if some are slightly faded.

You feel Joel shift again beside you. “Ma’am.”

With a quick motion of your free hand, you wipe your eyes. It feels silly to be crying in front of her. You’ve lost a best friend.

She has lost a daughter.

“Mrs Moss, I’m so sorry—I meant to come by, I swear,” you blurt out, hoping that you sound as honest as you are. The tears threaten to come back.

“It’s quite alright, dear. I know it can’t have been easy for you,” she says gracefully. “And it’s Deborah, I’ve told you before. Eleanor’s friends are—” For a split moment, you can see something twinkling in her eyes before she corrects herself, carrying on as if nothing happened. “Eleanor’s friends were always welcome in my house.”

Your heart feels like it’s stopped. Eleanor. You almost forgot that Lane wasn’t her real name, despite it feeling more real than Eleanor ever has. You try and remember the story behind it and you’re certain it had something to do with her grandmother but you can’t recall the entire thing. You make a point not to ask.

The woman in front of you stays quiet. Her eyes wander between you and Joel for a moment, sending a completely different kind of discomfort through your body.

“Well, I’d like to go inside now,” Mrs Moss announces quietly and Joel and you shift to the side to let her pass. She gives you another sad smile in passing. “You’ll be there for the ceremony, won’t you? Eugene came by this morning. They are clearing the receiving vault out today.”

Joel tenses next to you, his grip getting a tiny bit tighter. You just stare blankly at the woman in front of you. “Receiving vault?”

You bite down on the inner side of your cheek.

“Oh, it’s what they call that small building. Of course, once spring comes around, we’ll bury her properly.”

Mrs Moss does not seem to realize what she has just set into motion or that all of these details were complete news to you. She gives Joel a small, polite nod and continues down the hall.

The taste of blood fills your mouth.

You don’t hold hands on the way back.

***

You brush past Joel the instant he opens the door and, while he is still stripping off his gloves, hurry into the small bathroom at the end of the hall. It’s rarely used and has become more of a makeshift storage room if you’re being honest. A few plastic containers are piled up next to the sink and you squeeze around them before letting your tired body sink onto the toilet lid.

You can hear Joel hesitate in the hall, his heavy boots on the wooden floors audible through the thin door. You can't see the way his face is scrunched up in worry—and guilt. The guilt that threatens to swallow him whole as he briefly glances at the small cupboard under the stairs, one of the few that is locked. He knows you won’t check there.

With a small sigh, he follows down the hall, hesitating in front of the bathroom door. He leans against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“I meant to tell you.”

No reply comes. But he can hear your breath, the small squeak of your shoes as you move your feet on the toilet seat. You’re pressing them to your chest as tightly as you can.

She won’t be buried. She will be stored in the back of some shed like something you plan to forget.

“If I’d known she’d be there—” Joel shakes his head despite knowing that you can’t see him. His hand flies to his face, pinching his nose as he closes his eyes, trying to find the right words to make you understand that he needs to do this, that this is his job. He’s supposed to protect you. And he failed miserably, letting you walk right into Lane’s mum with no clue about the arrangements.

“I would’ve told you in time. I swear.”

The hand leaves his face and instead gravitates towards the doorknob. He pauses for a moment, the metal cool under his touch. “Honey, can I please come in?”

“Fine,” you press out, keeping your gaze fixed on the plastic containers below. You don’t want to look at him. Mainly, you don’t want him to look at you.

Joel gets to his knees, unable to suppress the small groan as he does so. He hesitantly reaches out to place a hand on your knee, squeezing a little. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I thought it was—not the right moment.”

“Okay.” You nod, determined to punish him with as many one-worded sentences as you can. Today has been one bad surprise after another and it’s entirely his fault—except you know that’s not true. But you’re not ready to place the blame on the person who may deserve it—you’re not ready to think of Lane with anything but fondness and longing. And maybe, a tiny part of you pipes up, one that you’d much prefer to be quiet, maybe you know that Joel will take the blame if you place it upon him, that he would proudly carry your hate like a crown and still let you eat his food and still let you sleep in his bed.

Your eyes meet his and he looks so miserable, broad shoulders still wrapped in his winter coat, his hair slightly wet from the melted snow and his eyes. His eyes, begging, asking to be forgiven.

The thoughts of blame and hate are gone in an instant. Instead, the tears that you didn’t allow to come in the church and all the way back home, finally spring up in your eyes.

“I didn’t think—when that man died last year in the winter—” you choke out, the thoughts forcing their way into the tiny bathroom. “They buried him, he got a grave—”

Joel brings his free hand up to your face just in time to catch the first tear rolling down your cheek and wiping it away, his calloused hand smoothing over your skin.

“Darlin’, he was sick. You know that, right?” Joel keeps his voice low and soft and his motions slow. Like he is approaching a sick animal, trying not to startle it.

You didn’t know that he’d been sick, to be truthful. But you also don’t see how that made a difference.

It’s almost like Joel can read your mind. He tilts his head a bit. “They knew he was gonna pass, sooner or later. They dug his grave in the fall.”

You can’t help the sob that escapes you at that. Because it’s a horrible, horrible thing, digging a grave for someone who is still alive. And because it’s a horrible, horrible thing to not be able to.

“No one dug—'' You think you feel snot running down your face. “We didn’t know—No one dug a grave for Lane—”

“Yeah,” Joel agrees quietly, his voice filled with a heaviness. “No one dug a grave for Lane.”

No one knew she’d need one.

Joel lets you cry, even when his knees are screaming at him to get off the bathroom tiles. He pats your arm and wipes your tears. He doesn’t try to cheer you up or make you see the bright side or, worst of all, tries and tell you that Lane is a better place. You both know her place was here.

He lets you wear yourself out from crying before he asks if you want a bath and, following a shy nod, scoops you up in his arms and carries you upstairs into the bathroom, the one you actually use.

The small moment of hesitation after he’s set you down on the edge of the tub is his way of asking for permission. You give a tired nod.

He lets you undress and climb into the tub while he begins to heat the water, insisting on placing a towel below you so that the porcelain won’t be too cold on your skin.

It doesn’t take long until the air in the room is comfortably warm and steamy and the faint smell of jasmine and cotton fills the air, replacing the lingering one of old buildings and grief. You feel like you’re transported back to the first time you were curled up in Joel Miller's bathtub, the first day you’ve ever spent in Jackson.

“Lean a little to the side,” he instructs quietly, lathering the top of your head with the shampoo and working it into your hair. His fingers are scratching circles into your skin, making you feel like he’s washing off all the things you’d like to see disappear down the drain. The sorrow and the pain. You don’t touch the guilt yet.

“Do you remember the last time you did this?” you mumble and hear Joel hum behind you as you continue. “I wouldn’t let you cut my hair.”

“You also called me an asshole.” You are glad your head is slightly lowered so that Joel can’t see you smile. Then again, you have a feeling he knows.

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

His fingers work around your head, gently tilting it into whatever direction he needs to reach every part of it. He surprises himself when he speaks up.

“You know what you looked like?” Your head perks up slightly at that, attempting to turn around but Joel guides your head back with a gentle motion. Because he doesn't want shampoo to get into your eyes. Definitely not because turning around would mean seeing—

“Tell me,” you insist, despite keeping your gaze forward now.

“No, nevermind, it’s—it’s silly.” He tries to brush you off but you aren’t having it.

“Joel. Come on. Please?”

He can see you’re on the verge of turning around again and reckons it’ll be easier to just answer your question instead of having to deal with all the thoughts he is so successfully pushing away.

“You looked like a fawn. Curled up, trembling. Waiting on someone.” “I wasn’t waiting on anyone.”

“I know you weren’t.”

You sit in comfortable silence, tilting your head back as Joel pours warm water over your head. He steps back into the bedroom to grab some fresh clothes, leaving you to wash your skin and dry off by yourself.

“They’re not much but they should do until we get some of yours,” Joel mutters as he hands you one of his worn shirts. You pull it over your head, each part of it a bit too big on your body. The collar is draped slightly to one side, making your soft skin peek out from under the fabric.

Joel smiles weakly, trying so hard to avert his gaze. But not enough to miss you struggling with your hair, attempting to pull the still wet strands into a bun.

“C’mere,” he instructs, taking another step towards you and reaching around your head to take the hair tie from your hands and carefully gathering all your hair in his right fist. You’re left there without distraction, without anything to do except stare up at him, so close that you can make out the gray hairs in his beard and the small scar that decorates his nose.

“There we are,” Joel mutters, securing the hair tie before hesitating for another moment as his gaze shifts down to your face, your eyes meeting.

He’s looked at you hundreds of times. So he’s not sure why, at this moment, his lungs suddenly seem to stop working, drowning in the softness of your eyes that seem to be completely focused on him. For a split second, he thinks he sees your gaze flicker downwards.

One of his hands finds a strand that escaped his grip before and he tucks it behind your ear, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You still look like that sometimes.”

He is so close. If one of you leaned just a tiny bit forward—

The moment is over as suddenly as it appeared. Joel drops his hands a little too quickly to be casual about it, taking two steps back. Like he’s gotten too close to something dangerous.

But you're not dangerous, a small voice in the back of his head says. You’re just a fawn.

He cannot touch you. He is certain of one thing: He would find a way to ruin you.

***

A few months ago, being back in Joel’s bathroom would've been your favorite thing in the world. And it’s still good and comforting. But it’s not the same.

You give yourself to brief illusions. That this is your first day in Jackson, that you don’t know anything about the man beside you except his name and that he carries his gun in the back of his jeans. That you will be taken to your new home in a few days and meet your roommate, the one with blue hair you’ve already spotted around town.

But you know it won’t happen. You had another shot at life here, the chance to do and say all the right things this time. And you failed.

You can feel the mattress dip beside you as Joel crawls under the thick covers. It’s nice to feel the heat of his body next to yours, to feel him shelter you with what he can. He sleeps on the side that is closest to the bedroom door, leaving you tucked away to the more closed off one.

But it never makes you feel trapped. Quite the opposite. Anyone who hopes to reach you will have to pass by him. You wish that grief too could be politely turned away or chased off with a drawn gun. But it seeps through the cracks of the old wooden house, drifting through the hallways, spreading its arms and placing itself right on your chest.

The thin curtains are drawn but you can still see the faint shimmer of the snow that’s stacked up outside, reflecting the lights of the few lamp posts that line Rancher Street. You move your head just enough to be able to stare at the silhouette of the window, wondering if any of the candles next to Lane are still burning or if she’s already shut away in the receiving vault, without any light at all.

Joel sighs softly beside you, his gaze following yours and lingering there for a few moments. “Want to talk about it?”

You both know what but you still find it an odd question. You do talk to him about Lane, more than anyone else even. He’s not touching you and something tells you that it has to do with what happened in the bathroom before. Just that nothing actually happened, you tell yourself. But you don’t dare to bring that up. Defense is better.

“Talk about what?”

“About whatever is keeping you from closing your eyes,” he mumbles quietly, his eyes back on you. “I know it ain’t easy but you need a few hours of sleep at least.”

“She’s there when I close my eyes,” you whisper into the quiet room, tensing slightly at just the idea of it. Of her. You don’t understand how something you love so much can feel so unwelcome in your head.

“I didn’t know you had bad dreams,” Joel muses quietly.

“It’s not that. But she must feel so alone. And confused,” you whisper, curling up a little more into yourself, as if that will protect you from the images that keep forcing themselves to the front of your mind.

“Honey, she’s not—she doesn’t feel those things anymore, okay?” Joel sighs beside you, hesitating for a small moment before reaching out and lightly rubbing your shoulder. “I promise it’ll get better once you get the ceremony over with.”

You both stay quiet for a few moments, both thinking about graves and funerals and those you’ve lost. There are so many you’ve lost.

“Can I ask you a question?” you pipe up, your voice trembling a tiny bit. You’ve never outright asked him—only taken what information he gave willingly, which was very little.

“If you promise to try and sleep after.” Joel chuckles quietly, leaning back into the pillows. The small laughter dies on his lips as he hears your question.

“Did you have a funeral for her?”

The small intake of breath to your right tells you he didn’t expect this. You immediately feel your stomach give a lurch as you sit up slightly. “Sorry, you don’t—I shouldn’t have brought it up—”

“No.” Somehow, despite his voice being very quiet and low, it’s strong enough to make you fall silent in an instant. You bite your lip as you try and make out Joel’s face but it’s too dark to do so without moving closer and you’re afraid that one more misstep will have him either running off or throwing you out of the house.

“It all happened very fast, with Sarah.” His voice quivers a tiny bit as he says her name. “We were lucky to make it out at all. Tommy took—He got us out.”

Maybe it’s your tired mind playing tricks on you, but Joel doesn’t sound like he feels very lucky about having made it out. You can’t blame him. Some part of you, too, feels like you should have been with her, in that cabin. Should be with her in the vault. That there should be two graves waiting to be dug instead of one.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, again, because apparently you are not good at finding the right words and you feel just like you did in front of Mrs Moss earlier today, just that this is Joel and that is precisely what makes it so much more difficult and so much worse.

“It was a long time ago,” is all he says.

To your surprise, the quiet that follows is not uncomfortable. Maybe because he feels that you understand, at least partly. Or maybe you’re just two very tired people, glad to have each other to hold on to.

After a few minutes, you can feel him turn towards you in the dark, opening his body up so that you can shift a bit closer, the excuse about the night being so incredibly cold dying on your lips when you feel how readily Joel wraps his arm around you, pulling you into him. You press your face into his chest, taking a deep breath that actually makes you feel like breathing comes a little easier. Your hands sneak around him, holding on. Always holding on.

A small sigh leaves Joel’s throat, his voice so low you can barely hear it.

“Let’s get some sleep, little fawn.”

thank you very much for reading! if you like this fic, please consider supporting me by rebloggin or liking or whichever buttons you prefer to press <3 if you have any feedback, it is also very welcome!

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Two

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Thank you for all the love on the last post! Figured I'd post the next part seeing as I said on the last update I have a whole story in mind for this but not sure how well it will go down:)

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2 || Em’s daughters are renamed here because it felt weird not to and also have different ages– doesn’t affect the story much but just a warning!

Masterlist

Weeks passed, during which I had spent a lot of my time back home dealing with Lottie’s schooling and making sure that she was mostly settled. She’d had a rough go of it last year, school being something that we both seemed to have had an issue with, but watching her struggle through some of the same problems I’d once faced was difficult and so I wanted her to know that she had the support I felt I’d never had. 

I’d been dragged off to shoots and studio sessions here and there, not much coming out of the latter in truth, but had stayed mostly confined to London. Which was why I was having a fucking mare over the fact that I was set to leave for a couple weeks without her. Not that I wasn’t excited about it all, nervous too, but it was work and that didn’t seem to trump whatever it was that was going on in Lottie’s life. Thankfully, she’d caught wind of my obvious anxiety and seemed to be happier than she’d been the previous term, had even gone out of her way to assure me that nothing would happen in the time I’d be gone.

So she was staying with her mum for a short time, my brother promising to check in on her from time to time too, even whilst he was still deployed overseas, as well as a couple friends of mine. Truthfully, if I’d had to leave her without those extra reassurances in place I don’t think I would have gone.

But here I was, across the pond doing an interview for a magazine spread and shooting in New York. 

It had been a long day, a plethora of outfit changes and little food due to the constant rush of things, so I was thankful for the short break we’d been gifted before the last set was meant to start. Although saying that, I was still stuck staring down at two pairs of heels that had been pushed into my arms the second I’d stumbled away from the cameras.

Eventually I grew tired of chewing on my lower lip and pulled out my phone.

Messages  Help Which shoes?

His response wasn’t immediate but came sooner than expected.

Messages  The Martian Why

With a roll of my eyes, accompanied by a semi-amused sigh, I shot another text back. Because in truth, what had I really expected? I’d learned all too quickly the man wasn’t made for texting.

Messages  I said help?? Forget it, can you call?

The ringing was practically instantaneous, enough so that the sound made me jump at its unexpectedness. 

“You got a foot fetish I don’t know ‘bout?”

I smiled at the sound of his voice and then laughed at the absurdity of his greeting. “Hi to you, too. And no, but if that’s something you’re into I’d rather not know.”

Marshall hummed around a mouthful of swallowed words before there was a slight sound of movement that echoed down the line alongside a door clicking shut.

“Did I interrupt?” I questioned, thinking back to the conversation we’d had earlier that same morning. He hadn't mentioned any set plans but I knew that he tended to frequent the studio at odd hours whenever inspiration hit. “I was just messing before, it’s not that important.”

“You’re fine, they can wait. Wanted to grab something anyway.” He said and the reply warmed me, there weren’t many who’d go out of their way to make time for me. Although that was just me assuming again. “You good?”

I slumped back into the dressing room chair at the ask, it was a ballache to get comfy in but I wouldn’t dare complain about it now, not after having spent two hours sat dead still in the fucking thing. “Just a long day. Got these last few shots to get done and then I’ll be free.”

My voice sounded wistful enough before my face then scrunched at the sudden gurgle given by my stomach. It must have been just loud enough for the mic to have picked up because Em was quick to question, “You eaten yet?”

I shook my head, forgetting for a split second that we weren’t on one of our usual Facetime calls. “Going to, after I get this done.”

A grunt resonated, broken up by the sound of cabinets being opened and closed, “Idiot.”

Smiling at the one word response I’d garnered, I peered back over at the shoes I still had to pick between. I sighed, “Swear it, I’m gonna head straight back to the hotel and order a shit ton of food. Probably pass out beside a bowl of gravy or summat before I have to be at the airport.”

There was a brief pause.

“Paul did sort the tickets right?”

“Yeah, Mila emailed them yesterday.” I reassured him as I reached up to rub at my eye, stopping a second short of actually doing so, having forgotten about the makeup that would have to be redone if I went and followed through on the action. “Again, you didn’t have to do that.”

“What I tell you?” He reminded me and I huffed out a small chuckle.

“To shut the fuck up about it?”

Marshall hummed once more, “Exactly. A car will be outside once you land.”

My lips pursed as I fought to dampen my appreciative grin, knowing he’d somehow hear it, even from a state away. Which was a strange thing to think about, having been an entire ocean apart for the majority of time we’d spoken. That first phone call felt like a lifetime ago almost. “Car’s a bit much, I don’t mind grabbing a cab or calling for one.”

He didn’t deign that with an audible answer.

“Em, I’m serious.” I laughed, the stress I’d felt earlier about the shoot slowly falling away, enough so that I let myself relax into the chair out of hell. “You’re already doing so much for me. I mean, the flights alone but, you’re already letting me stay with you too.” 

And wasn’t that an insane concept, but he’d been adamant on it, claimed it made no sense for me to rent some pricey room in the city when he had more than enough in that big old house of his. I had pressed in return though, told him it was more than fine, me holding up in some hotel, and that I didn’t want to feel as though I’d be stepping on anyone’s toes, or become this ominous presence that he had to keep sidestepping around in his own home. But then the topic of paps had come up, safety, keeping the album underwraps. I hadn’t been able to argue with him much after that. He was a paranoid fucker, but from what I’d heard from him in small snippets, he had his reasons.

“Car will be outside.” He repeated a second time, leaving no room for much more said on the topic, so I gave in, sliding down slightly further in the crappy chair just as a rep ran by the room calling out to me. “Got to go?” He asked, having heard the shout too.

I wet my lower lip, allowing my eyes to close for a moment. “Two minutes.” But I knew that I'd blink and they’d be over too soon.

I listened to his low chuckle resonate and let go of a slow breath at the sound, a sudden tiredness overcoming me. 

“Call me when you get back.” I heard him say, more background noise filtering through his end that told me his time was more than likely up too. “And, the blue.”

My brow pinched at the last comment he gave me before my eyes flickered back over to the two pairs of heels perched on the dresser, one black, one blue. I cracked a grin, “Go Lions?”

I could almost hear the smirk in his retort, “You know it.”

The shoot went over about as well as expected after the short break concluded. It seemed that everybody was about as ready to head out as I was, but I was just so grateful to all of them for the work and effort they’d put in that I made a quick round of thanking the few that hadn’t darted straight out the door the second they could, before I eventually followed.

So by the time I made it back to my hotel it was late enough that the lobby was rowdy with the usual partygoers and a rather large bridal party. I slipped into a lift as quickly as I could and headed straight up to my floor, all too relieved to finally kick off my shoes and topple into bed after having been on my feet since four that morning.

I didn’t earn much reprieve though, seeing as soon after I’d put in an order to room service that my phone started to ring. I groaned into the pillow petulantly before I finally heaved a large sigh and made my way down the duvet to grab at the mobile I’d dropped there upon entering.

“Yeah?”

“Ouch. Haven’t spoken in weeks and that’s the only greeting I get?”

I blinked at the startling sound of a familiar voice and forced myself back up into a sitting position, smiling brightly at the surprise. “I didn’t know it was you!” I retorted quickly, shocked by the sudden call, “I thought you would phone when you got to your next base!”

“There was a switch up, got a couple days off here after–” He paused and I knew then that something must have happened out there.

“You okay?” I murmured, voice quiet but not enough to go unheard. It was always hard hearing about the things my little brother experienced when he was out deployed, but he loved it. It had been his life since the moment he’d left home at eighteen and had enlisted. I felt foolish after I’d asked it and winced at my question, “Sorry, that was stupid. I just meant–”

Danny’s laughter filtered through then, making me feel a tad bit lighter. It was always so hard talking about serious shit with him sometimes, but if there was anyone who could brighten up a room, even one full of the walking dead, then it would have to be him. Which is why I let myself laugh too when he ribbed into me for the stumble, making fun of the way I’d gone and fretted over my poor choice of words.

“Fuck off! I’m running on like four hours sleep and have yet to eat!” I shot back at him, shaking my head at the entire conversation, grateful that we could just jump back and forth between both the good and the bad. I missed him a whole lot sometimes, it was hard not knowing if he was safe. “I’m tryna be a good sister here!”

“Uhuh,” He drolled, dragging the dull sound out. Before he switched things up, “Speaking of, you spoke to Lottie since you've been gone?”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek at the ask, falling back into the mountain of pillows the hotel offered only to glance up at the stark ceiling. “Yesterday. I’ll text her in a sec though, she’ll probably just be getting out of school.” I looked over at the clock to double check that and hummed. “Why, have you?”

“No,” Danny answered me carefully, “But I phoned mum.”

My tongue worked its way between my front teeth at the mere mention of her. “Right. What did she have to say then?” But I was already regretting asking. 

“Said she ain’t seen you. That Lotts got dropped off in some car with a suitcase a couple days ago.”

I felt the skin around my eyes tighten before I took a deep breath, “That so?” 

It was almost funny how much the woman could change and flip things around to better suit her narrative. Lotts had stayed at a friend’s the night before I’d been set to fly out here, she’d been more than happy to have been dropped off at her mums and so I didn’t know why it was now being made into a bigger deal, as though I’d shoved her in some randomer’s car without so much as a goodbye. 

He must have realised I was silently stewing because I didn’t miss the light chortle Danny tried to cover up with a cough.

“I know she’s hard work, El, trust me.” He commented after, always playing the role of referee, “Just surprised me, is all, when she said she hadn’t seen you.”

Hollowing out my cheeks to keep from taking out my agitation on him, I took a second to calm back down and find the best answer to give. “I haven’t seen her because I don’t go there.”

“What, to the house?”

My eyes slipped closed at the startled disbelief in his tone. “Where else? Why would I want to go back there, Dan?”

We knew each other so well that I could practically see his lazy shrug, it made me miss him that much more. “Just figured, you know?”

No, you don’t know. I wanted to say, but wouldn’t. I couldn’t be like her, have the kids running around trying to keep track of who said and did what. I hummed quietly to myself instead, feigning disinterest when really my skin had begun to itch at the reminder. “She okay then?” I asked just for something to say, figuring that there must have been something going on for him to have mentioned it.

“Reckon so,” He replied easy enough though, probably having recognised something or other in my voice to keep from prodding much more on the previous topic, “Sounded off on our call but didn’t mention anything. Still, figured I’d let you know seeing as Lotts is there with her.”

My eyes suddenly stung and I hissed out a curse, “What did she sound like? Slurred, or?”

He knew exactly what I was getting at with that and thankfully was quick to reassure me, “Nah, nothing like that I don’t think. Just sketchy, like all jumpy and shit– careful with her words almost.” 

“Right.” I dragged out in a slow exhale, thinking it over. The question of going back home now spun round in my mind.

“Don’t.” I heard Danny say not a moment later as though he knew exactly what train of thought I'd hopped on, “You’re working, things are fine. Lotts is fine. Everything's good. So just enjoy yourself, yeah? Stop worrying so much.”

“Hard not to.” I huffed and rubbed at my eye.

His next words sounded apologetic, which wasn’t heard too often with him. “Shouldn’t have mentioned it, just wanted to keep you in the know.”

Immediately I shook my head at his retort, “No, you were right to. I mean, you’re a world away and I’d want you to let me know if you thought something was up rather than keeping it quiet and something happening.” 

“You’re a world away too.” He laughed at me, and it was nice for just a moment to listen to the familiarity of it. 

Danny was only three years younger than me, but that gap in age had only ever felt so large when we’d been kids– me sheltering him from everything going on at home until he’d grown too old to not to understand– and now. What with me looking after Lottie practically fulltime and him being stationed thousands of miles away, us only seeing each other when the odds willed it. 

“Don’t mean that you should go and get all pissy over this.” He said, pulling my attention back, “Stressing will just fuck you up more so than you already are.”

I snorted at the irony of that. “Alright, pipe down Private Ryan.”

“Ha ha.” He deadpanned in a way that only your brother could, “When d’you get funny?”

Humoured, my scowl didn’t quite radiate enough scorn and neither did my reply seeing as I went and chuckled around it, “I’ve always been the funnier sibling. Just ask Lotts.”

“Nah, Lotts would say herself and then me.” Danny argued for the sake of it, “Face it, Els. You’re old.”

“Twat.” I shot back childishly, though he merely laughed.

“Yeah, but you’re the cause of it.” He quipped, grinning now, I was sure of it, before he went and changed the subject entirely, “How ‘bout them Giants, anyway?”

Rolling my eyes hard enough to feel a slight strain, I granted the idiot a small chuckle. “You actually care enough to ask?”

“Nah,” He breezed on through a heavy breath, “I’ll stick to the FC, thanks. Just figured since you mentioned you were out in New York.”

I hummed softly, peering over towards the window. The blinds were now open, not still pulled from when I’d forgotten about them in the rush I’d been in this morning, so I figured someone must’ve opened them when they’d come in to clean. Which, even after all these years, still made me feel weird. Sure, it was their job but I hated the thought of people clearing up after me. Even more so when I remembered having had the same role down at the local pub back home. 

“It’s fine, chilly, but it’s October, you know?”

Danny’s ever typical smirk was prominent in his next set of words, “Still warm over here, think I’m actually catching a tan.”

Chuckling, I kicked my legs out over the duvet. “I’m so jealous it hurts. How is it out there anyway? Never been to Cyprus, heard it’s lovely– that’s still where you’re at right?”

He acknowledged it in a soft hum, “Yeah we are, and it’s alright, not as good as Mali though. Miss it there, the food, the people.”

I smiled softly to myself at the nostalgic yearning he voiced. Vaguely remembering his few mentions of a girl during our short calls and odd texts when he’d been there, but I didn’t ask. Thing was with Danny, if he wanted to talk about something he would. Otherwise it was like squeezing water from a sodding stone. “You know where you’re headed next?”

“No, on leave for a bit after this so I’ll find out sooner or later.”

I perked up at that. “What, you headed home then?”

It had been a good few months since I’d last seen the kid in person, let alone had him back home with us.

Danny must have anticipated my excitement because he laughed brightly in turn and his voice was full of warmth, “Yeah, so you’d best get ready to see my mug in a couple weeks.”

My mind tallied up the next month or so of my schedule. I was in Detroit for the next two weeks on an odd sort of break I’d somehow managed to pull, seeing as I was still somewhat ‘working’ and had put in extra hours before flying out. Then I’d been asked to do a couple of video interviews, mostly to keep up appearances and hint at new music in the works– but I could do that anywhere. Everything after that was up in the air.

“You got a place to stay?” I was quick to query and he must have known what I was getting at by asking.

“I’ll swing by mum’s and pick up the spare set of keys I have there, make sure my room’s ready before I get to yours, yeah? Want fresh sheets and a gift basket waiting.”

The fucking cheek. “I haven’t touched it since you left the last time, so if you’ve got shitstained pants lying about or a goldfish in there, then I’ll expect you’ll be in for a right treat.”

“Ah shit! Forgot about Nemo.” He snarked, but it was followed by a snort, “Dick. Besides, I haven’t and you know it.”

I hummed dubiously and then laughed when he clucked his tongue at me, probably geering up to argue, but then the door sounded. I stopped short at the rapid taps and was instantly reminded of the call I’d put in earlier. “Sorry, it’s probably room service.” I told him, already sliding off the bed to head on over towards the knock, “Forgot about it when you rang.”

“No worries,” He said easily, “I’ll try and call you again in a couple days, yeah?”

I paused at that, “What? No, you don’t have to hang up!”

Danny just chuckled though and I could see him sat there humoured by my reaction as he shook that big old head of his. “It’s fine, if you look as tired as you fucking sound then you’ll be out like a light sooner or later. I’ve still got some time here to piss away anyway so I’ll text.”

I couldn’t find it in me to be much annoyed by his quip, he was probably right. “Okay, it was nice to hear your voice though.” I admitted as I went and opened the door to let in a guy with a silver trolley, I thanked him quietly with a smile of my own and a tip as he left.

“You’re welcome.” Danny teased snidely once the door had closed, “Always happy to shed a bit of laughter into your life. Can’t imagine you get too many people brightening up your day out there.”

I rolled my eyes. 

“They ain’t all bad.” I informed him in reply to that Yank reference of his, picking up a chip as I did so, they were still steaming and hot enough to scold my mouth. 

“That so?” Danny wondered out loud, “Got someone special out there, have ya?”

“Fuck off, Danny!” I all but sung, chuckling when he started calling out ‘I knew it’ and making stupid kissy noises into the phone, forever a fucking wind up. “You’re so far from right but whatever. Now can I go eat or you gonna bother me some more?”

“Yeah, yeah. Enjoy your food– and the mystery man!”

He hung up before I could even think to conjure up a word, leaving the room in relative silence. Baffled, I resorted to shaking my head then moved to pick up the few plates I’d ordered, taking them over towards the bed and turning on the tele more for sound than actual entertainment. 

I only glanced back down at my phone again when it buzzed against the plush white sheets beside me. I continued chewing, but felt my brow pinch slightly as I looked back on a few texts and emails I’d received whilst on my call with Danny. I reasoned that I could ignore most of them until tomorrow when I had time to waste waiting on my flight, but there was one that my eye got stuck on.

Messages  The Martian You get back ok?

Typically, it was me that texted and Em who called. But seeing as how the roles here had suddenly reversed I forgoed typing back and instead clicked on the little video camera icon in the top right corner of our chat. 

It rang for a beat, then two.

“The fuck’s this?”

I held the phone up a little higher at the voice, having gotten a bit lost in the lifetime show which had been playing on the tv as well as my food. Glancing down, I was glad to spot his surly face peering back into the camera and smiled, before I caught sight of myself in the small box at the bottom and grimaced. Danny had been right, I looked half dead.

“And what’s with the face?”

With a wrinkle of my nose, I pulled my gaze away from the box figuring that the first time this man had seen me was possibly at my worst so what difference did this make? Still, I answered him. “I look dead.”

He blew an amused breath out of his nose and I realised a second too late that he was walking around in a room I had yet to see, before he eventually fell back onto a plethora of dark sheets. I realised he must’ve been getting ready to turn in when I called. He looked a little tired too, eyes heavier under the dim lights of his bedroom. “You’ve got a black eye. Looks tough.”

The corner of my mouth tugged upwards at the odd compliment as I brought the phone in closer to get a better look at the eye I’d gone and rubbed earlier, smearing a shit ton of glitter and eyeliner all over my cheek. I droned in retort, wiping underneath my waterline in an attempt to somehow save it, but it seemed it didn’t work the way I hoped, not from the smug look Marshall was now sporting. I flipped him off and fell back further into the pillows, taking the plate of chips I’d ordered with me.

“I forgot to take it off when I got in.” I explained, huffing out a slight chuckle, “But I doubt that even I can make glitter look tough.”

Em appeared to tilt his head in a ‘whatever you say’ sort of way, before his eyes turned surveying. “You finally fillin’ up?”

My expression shifted at the way he’d phrased that but whilst he seemed humoured by the reaction he obviously wasn’t just asking for the fun of it. “Yeah, a strange assortment but I’ll take it.”

He looked a little bemused by my answer and so I shifted to better show him what I was talking about. I first pointed out the glass cup I had balancing nearby, perched beside a plate of gooey goods, “I got some weird iced tea ‘cause I forgot that you lot don’t know how to do it right, as well as this cake selection thing.” He hummed, hand coming up to rest on his chest just as I picked up another chip covered in ketchup. “And then just a bowl of chips. Don’t tell anyone but this hotel’s room service sucks ass.”

I watched on as he raised a brow at the shoddy American accent I’d equipped for the end of that sentence before he eventually replied, “Fries.”

“Yeah no.” I rolled my eyes, chewing on another chip just to spite him for the correction. It was one of the many things I couldn’t wrap my head around whenever I was visiting. 

“The hell they’re not.” Marshall was quick to shoot straight back, “You go out and ask for chips at some restaurant you’re gettin’ looked at like an odd fucker. And anyway, how's that a meal?”

“It’s food.” I enforced with a soft snort, pleased to have gotten him a little riled up, “At this point I’d eat gum off your shoe, I’m that hungry. And anyway, fries is only used here and in like, fast food chains?”

“Rolling back round to that foot fetish. This a hint?” He ragged, but his face remained stoic enough that I had to laugh, and loudly too. Marshall just continued on though, still stuck on the debate, “They’re legit french fries.”

“Fuck’s sake, only you call them that! Over there it’s just fried potato.”

“Exactly fuckin’ fries!” It was probably the most animated I’d seen him in a couple days, all because we were both so hellbent on being right. 

I groaned, mostly just to keep up the act. I didn’t much care either way at this point, far too exhausted from the early morning start and too little sleep, but it was nice to finally see him not stressing. Something which had become a recurrence over the passing weeks since the idea of the album had started to come into reality. 

“Whatever. We’ll just call up the Oxford Dictionary tomorrow or whatever, ask them.”

“Biased jury.” He remarked but then there was a barely audible creak and his attention was being redirected to something beyond the screen. “Hey, baby. You have a good time?” I heard him mumble, the phone having lowered a tad.

There was an excited retort that seemed to grow closer, but my breath was caught in the back of my throat at the sudden realisation of just who it had to have been.

Marshall sat up a little further, shoulders coming to rest against the headboard so that he could hug the girl that crept into the corners of the screen. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, murmuring in her ear, and I let my eyes flicker back down to my food, feeling like I was intruding on a tender moment.

I’d always known that he had kids, anyone who listened to his music could tell you that much, and he’d briefly mentioned them a handful of times in the time we’d spoken too. But I had yet to meet either the infamous Rosie or his eldest daughter, seeing as she was fresh out of college and his youngest wasn’t often around when we did speak. 

They spoke back and forth in a soft cadence for a while and when I chanced a glance back down at my phone I found that Em had me perched on his knee, now sat up on the mattress so that he could better talk to his daughter who sat opposite. I didn’t want to interrupt or just hang up, so I took the time to tidy away the bowl I held, as well as the iced tea I didn’t much like the look of. I was quiet with it, pushing them back onto the trolley but kept hold of the small plate of cakes I had on the bedside table, having had an eye on one of the brownies since it had first been wheeled in.

I still had a couple of makeup wipes left in the packet I’d used that morning by the bed, so I used one to swipe away the heavy black sat under my eyes, internally promising myself that I would cleanse before I ultimately fell asleep.

“Really? Show me!”

I seemed to tune back in at the sound of the small voice, face a little glowy and a touch red from the wipe I’d just used but thankfully now free of smudgy panda patches. 

“You there?”

Blinking, I realised belatedly that Marshall had been addressing me there. I was confused and a little slow in reapproaching the screen, but smiled softly at the sight of Em and his actual mini me, because it was just maddening how much of him she had been given.

“I’m here.” I said, almost a little shyly, unsure but prepared to end the call so that he could spend some time with his daughter. But he went and surprised me, completely actually, because he handed the phone over to Rosie who beamed at the sudden sight of me, gaze lighting up with some sort of recognition.

She was young, I noted, younger than Lottie by a couple of years but not by many. She wore her long hair in a ponytail with a pretty bow at the very top, as well as a smile that seemed to only emphasise her bright eyes. “I can’t believe you’re the El Dad’s been talking about.”

Out of everything I’d expected her to say, that had been pretty low on the list– if it had even been there at all. My mouth parted just as my eyes darted over to where Marshall was sat just behind the girl, still in shot but off to the side. He acted as though he hadn’t heard a word, gaze stuck on the hand he was running through the end of the girl’s hair. Ah, so it was like that, was it?

“Oh yeah?” I ended up chuckling, mostly to ease my emotions and the whirling thoughts that had erupted, immensely glad that I’d had the foresight to wipe my face clean before she’d said hello. I could only guess that she’d probably heard some of my music from that reaction, before I was hastily reminded of the fact that she had been one of the few that had shown Em that video of me. 

There was a hurried nod of her head, “Your songs are some of my favourites!”

I grinned softly at that, immensely pleased by the sweet sentiment, and only hoped that her favourites were some of my newer stuff, instead of the few songs I’d realised before I’d gotten signed, those were angry and aimed at a whole other audience.

“I’ve listened to a couple of yours too.” I shot back teasingly, smile only growing when I caught sight of Em’s slight frown as well as Rosie’s own, “My favourite songs from your dad all feature you.”

She seemed to like that answer and giggled, going on to tell me a little about the last song she could remember helping with. I listened attentively, nodding along and commenting when I could, actually surprised by the amount of knowledge she seemed to have picked on whilst growing up around her dad.

It was just after she said something about the upcoming album that her eyes went wide in shock and she gasped, spinning back around to look at her dad over her shoulder. Marshall stared, baiting the kid into thinking she’d gone and let the big secret slip, which in itself had me fighting down a chuckle, before he soon cracked. 

He cowered playfully when Rosie jumped at him, giggling at the thought that she’d gone and ruined it all for him, only growing louder when the man tickled her sides to roll her off him. The camera followed the pair, landing with a thump somewhere on the floor, before Marshall was back, obviously having picked it up and holding it up high enough so that I could see the little girl’s narrowed eyed expression behind him. Her smile did little to infuse the scowl she bore. 

I bit back my own.

Em took a deep breath and steeled his expression a tad, “Try that again, girlie. I dare you.”

“Dad.” The girl complained as the man knocked her back down when she tried to kneel her way on closer to the phone. I laughed quietly at them and shook my head, catching him watching me for a second too long when I looked back, but then he was sitting over by the headboard again, encouraging the girl to join him too.

When she poked her tongue out at him, he pulled a face in return. It was a moment I was content to be a part of but which also reminded me of the days of when Lotts had been that young, back before I’d managed to score studio time or even a meeting with a label exec.

I must've been wearing an odd look because Marshall’s mouth twitched when he glanced back at me, lifting a single eyebrow. I knew what he was asking with the action and so I dipped my chin in a slow gesture to assure him I was okay.

The night continued on like that for a little while longer, just the three of us talking, Rosie telling us about the afternoon she’d spent with her sister, before Em finally managed to rouse her into getting ready for bed. I took that to be lights out for me too, listening quietly whilst he sent the little girl on her way, promising that he’d be there to tuck her into bed in just a second.

My smile was all mushy when his door rattled shut, I knew it too but was too tired to hide it so simply settled for relaxing my head further against the headboard. His face went through a rapid relay of emotions when he caught it though, before he eventually stamped out anything recognisable. I blinked blearily in return.

“‘Til tomorrow?” I assumed, chuckling softly whilst he dragged a hand over the top of his head. I noticed then that the blond was gone.

He gave a hum, voice low in the quiet of his room, “You gotta be up to catch a plane.”

A wave of anticipation hit me at the very reminder and even as sleepy as I felt, I continued to smile. “I do.”

A quiet pause dragged between us, an odd tension building. I waited for him to say something, perhaps another reminder or–

“Get some sleep.”

Or that.

I swallowed back my grin and then nodded. “You too.”

The tiniest beginnings of a curl could be made out on his lips before he shook his head and turned, leaving me with a black screen and a tally of our time spent on call.

3 hours 17 minutes

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Hank Voight x Fem!Reader Oneshot (Part 2)

TW: Passing mentions of domestic violence

Synopsis: Reader recovers, but a year later, Hank is out of jail and he takes an interest in Reader. Reader doesn’t know how to feel.

You were discharged from the hospital after a few weeks, seeing as you were in no hurry to leave. After that, you went to District 21 with Trudy, filing multiple police reports and filling out so much paperwork that your head spun afterward. Trudy then took you out to get lunch, but you didn’t eat much. She helped you get onto your feet again, letting you stay with her for a few weeks until you could find a job and an apartment.

Truthfully, the job search was hard considering you had no experience, and you had a fifteen year gap in your resume. When you got back to Trudy’s place that night, you felt defeated. You’d been desperate and it showed, not to mention your still partially nourished, bruised body. You barely ate when left to your own devices, and didn’t eat much of whatever Trudy made you. You were grateful, but used to not eating. As you kicked off your shoes and shrugged off your coat, you let out a breath of relief. Being in Trudy’s house made you feel safe, if nothing else. You nearly took care of your coat and shoes before walking in.

“Hey, how was it today?” Trudy asked from the kitchen, stirring a pot of something.

“No luck,” you replied, sitting at the island and putting your head into your hands. “I’m sorry, I really am trying, I just-“

“Hey, that’s enough of that. Don’t worry about it.”

“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, Trudy. I’m sorry, I should’ve just stayed with him and-“

Trudy quickly turned from the stove, walking over and pulling your hands from your face with a gentle firmness. “That’s enough, (Y/N). I’d rather you be here to take advantage of me than not be living at all. Why don’t you go get a shower and clear your head? Wash it away.”

You nodded as you looked into her eyes. ‘Wash it away’ was a phrase the both of you often used to shake off the events of any given day. “Thank you…” you mumbled, then slowly pulled from her touch and moved upstairs to take a shower.

When you came back downstairs, Trudy had a soup prepared on the table for you. She’d given you just a small bowl, knowing you didn’t eat much at all. “Hey, feeling a little better?”

“Yeah,” you replied with a small nod as you sat down. “Thanks, this smells really good.”

“It’s broccoli cheddar soup with some mini sausages in it. I have some crackers here, too, so feel free to put some in if you want.” Trudy smiled softly and beside you at the table. “And, if you want more, there’s plenty left.”

“Thank you,” you repeated. “It’s so nice to have you… Voight was right to point me this way.”

“Hank knows everyone in one way or another. He was dealing with a lot the day you reached out to him. I remember him talking about how he almost didn’t show up when you asked.”

“What made him come, then?”

“Well, he thought it was some kind of trap by IAD to prove he was working with Maurice. That he was a dirty cop.” Trudy shrugged as she took a spoonful of soup and blew on it. “But, I convinced him that somebody might really be in trouble, and that’s always worth fighting for. We couldn’t risk it if your story was real. Which it was.”

You looked down at the steaming bowl of soup, wondering where you’d be if Hank hadn’t come that day. Probably dead. You looked back up at Trudy and nodded. “Thank you,” you said softly. “I owe you everything.”

“Don’t mention it.” Trudy offered a small smile, which you returned as you took a bite of the soup. “Hey, listen, there’s a spot open at the district for a civilian records keeper. It’s yours if you want it.”

You looked up. “Really…?”

“Yeah, of course. I already cleared it with the commander.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little wider. “I owe you everything, once again.”

Trudy reached across the table to hold your hand. “I only want to see you happy.”

—

10 months later

—

Finally, everything had gone through for your divorce and restraining order. You’d quickly taken to the position in records and although it was tedious work, you loved having it nevertheless. You’d gotten your own apartment close to the district and worked very hard in the meantime to pay Trudy back for every penny she spotted you while you were down. You often made her meals and brought her lunch, as well as surprised her with little things here and there when possible. Your budget was tight, but you made it work and saved up some money while paying down your credit card debt. You found out how good you really were with numbers at that point, and although you scrimped and saved, you were able to budget all of these things in and still keep money in your new bank account.

As you walked into the 21st District that morning, something seemed off. Many of the officers around had been whispering amongst themselves. You furrowed your brow as you approached the front desk, where Trudy was looking down at some paperwork. “Hey, Sergeant…” you said softly, looking up at her. “What’s going on? Did I miss something?”

She looked down at you. “You didn’t know?”

You shook your head, furrowing your brow.

“Voight’s out of prison.”

You blinked. You hadn’t visited Voight in a long time, not since just after Trudy took you in. “He’s out?”

“And he’s assigned to the Intelligence Unit as the new Sergeant in the 21st District.”

You turned around as the whispering grew silent, Voight walking in the doors behind you. “Ah, it’s good to be back in the 21st. Trudy, nice to see you.”

Trudy nodded. “You too, Hank.”

“And who is that? (Y/N)? You look much better than the last time I saw you.”

You blushed from embarrassment at being called out in front of everyone. You waved a bit and nodded. “Hey, Voight…”

“Sergeant Voight,” the commander’s voice boomed from his office. “In here, now.”

Voight smiled and walked through to the commander’s office, shutting the door. You breathed out, blinking. You weren’t sure why you’d been so tense. Voight had helped you, so he was alright in your book despite being a dirty cop. You bit your lip and looked up at Trudy once again.

Trudy glanced at you, then looked at the other officers. “Get back to work, everyone. Let’s go.” When she looked at you once more, she nodded. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I… I don’t know why I’m so tense. Maybe it’s just the others in the room.”

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded and walked behind the desk and into the back rooms, starting your morning duties.

—

Weeks went by, and every time Voight came through and smiled at you, you visibly shuddered. You had no idea what was causing it, but you typically mirrored his smile and sometimes waved. It was an odd feeling, almost as if he reminded you of that time when you were under your husband’s thumb. You knew that wasn’t it, but couldn’t find any better explanation for what you had felt every time he was near you.

One day, you were working in the basement, filing some records, when someone came up behind you. You turned your head, jumping a bit when you saw a male figure, whipping your body to match your gaze. When you found it was just Voight, you let out a long breath. “Damn it, you scared me.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to. I wanted to check up on you, without anyone’s prying eyes or ears. How have you been?”

You looked him over. His hands were shoved in his pockets and his body was relaxed, looking at your face. You nodded as you met his eyes. “I’ve been alright, Sergeant.” Somehow, you were still tense around him, but that wasn’t quite it. It was a feeling you couldn’t describe. Your stomach was in knots. Your face got hot. You bit your lip. “Trudy helped me get on my feet. Thank you… for everything you did on your end. I’m sorry it was such an inopportune time.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad it worked out, (Y/N). And, call me Hank.”

You nodded. “Of course… Hank.” You crossed your arms over your chest, rubbing them. “How is intelligence? I heard you have Dawson and Willhite up there. They’re good. They helped get me out of there.”

“That’s why I chose them. My unit will be only the best, the handpicked people.” He hummed, looking around, then back at you. “In fact, I was wondering if you’d like to come work upstairs with me.”

“U-Upstairs? In Intelligence? I hardly think I’m qualified to-“

“You’d do fine. Just think about it,” he said with a small shrug. “If you want to, I’ll clear it with Trudy and the commander.” He turned around as you walked past him, back upstairs behind you. “Just give me an answer in a few days.”

“Wait,” you said softly, stopping halfway up the steps and turning to look at him. “Why me?”

He moved up so he was on the same step as you, your bodies nearly touching, making you blush deeply. “Because, (Y/N),” he whispered. “You’re smart, you’re kind, and you’re beautiful. I love seeing your face every day.” He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “Take a few days to think about it, then find me.” With that, he moved up the stairs and back into the district.

You stood, gripping the railing, left speechless. Your stomach turned now, but not in a bad way. Your knees were weak, your breath taken away by the former dirty cop. One hand moved to touch your cheek where his lips had landed, and you were frozen in time for several moments, replaying the interaction in your mind. It wasn’t until someone opened the door and found you on the steps were you pulled back to reality, clearing your throat and pardoning yourself past them. You went to the bathroom and locked yourself in a stall, regulating your breathing as you figured out what you felt for the Sergeant.

You hadn’t been able to put a word to the feelings you’d been facing the last few weeks ever since Voight came back. You’d never felt them before, or rather, not in over ten years. Not since your former husband has wooed you the first time. You were terrified of this feeling of… love? Is that even what you’d call it? You took half an hour to think, regulating your breathing as you brought yourself back down to reality.

When you exited the bathroom, Trudy caught your gaze, motioning you over. You nodded and walked to her desk just as Voight passed by with Dawson and Willhite. You caught Vought’s eyes and he nodded with a small smile, just as he usually did. You couldn’t help but smile back. He liked your smile. It made you want to smile more.

Trudy caught this interaction, then put her hand on your shoulder. “Alright. Dinner tonight. My place. You’re going to spill it.”

You looked at Trudy, blushing heavily. “I… okay.”

.

After shift that day, Trudy drove you to her place, where she started dinner. Once she had it cooking, you sitting at the island, she turned to face you. “Alright. Spill it.”

You laughed awkwardly, having not said much this entire time. “Spill what?”

“You and Voight. Didn’t he go down into records?”

“Y-Yeah? So?” You blushed simply thinking about the interaction you’d had with the Sergeant just hours before, and the offer he’d made you.

“So… spill it. What happened that made you run into the bathroom so quickly after?”

“I, uh…” You bit your lip, not meeting her eyes as you stated at the granite countertop below you. “Uh…”

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?”

You looked up quickly. “Yes, yes, I’m alright. It’s alright. Nothing… nothing and happened. At least, I didn’t think it was bad.”

“So what did happen, then?”

“He, uh, just wanted to talk to me for a minute about how I was doing and all of that. And he offered me a spot in Intelligence.”

“Uh huh?” Trudy asked, urging for more.

“And… so I asked why me, and he said because I’m… I’m beautiful… and kind and smart and… he likes seeing my face every day…” You blushed deeply, your voice growing softer with each passing word. “And then he… he kissed my cheek…”

Trudy’s mouth dropped in shock. She had no idea Hank Voight would ever make a move like that. “He kissed your cheek??”

“Y-Yeah… is… is that bad? Should I, uhm, say something or…?”

“Well, were you okay with it?”

You nodded a little. “I think so, yeah… It caught me by surprise. I’ve been so tense around him but… I don’t think it was fear. I think I was just nervous. He’s… he’s attractive.” You shrugged. “Am I… trauma bonding to him? Because of Jeff? Should I… tell him to stop?”

“Hey, (Y/N), I won’t tell you who you can and can’t date. Hank is… he’s a good man, despite the dirty cop run he had. He was grieving. He lost his wife to cancer, what, three years ago now? I’m just glad he’s moving on and focusing on other things.”

“He… lost his wife to cancer?” You frowned. “That’s so sad… I could never replace his wife.”

Trudy hummed and nodded, turning to the stove to stir the pan. “You won’t replace Camille. Nobody can. But maybe you can help him find happiness again and get back on the right path. The only reason he ever went off the deep end was because she wasn’t there to hold him back anymore. He had to pay for her cancer treatments somehow, and he just never stopped taking the bribes.”

You frowned and looked down. “Maybe this is a bad idea… Maybe he’s not over her and he’s going to use me to grieve more…”

“Hey, Hank wouldn’t do that,” Trudy said, coming over to the island and holding one of your hands. “He’s a good guy. If you tell him to back off, he will. Maybe you should talk to him and tell him what you’re thinking. If it’s a no, then he’ll respect your choice.”

You sighed. “I just… I think I… have butterflies around him but I haven’t felt like this in over ten years. I mean, I don’t even know how to date anymore.”

Trudy laughed softly, shaking her head. “Tomorrow, why don’t you grab lunch for the two of you and just eat in his office. Very informal, and you can talk to him, alright?”

You nodded slowly, looking at Trudy. She seemed to be harboring some excitement for you, or maybe for Hank. You knew Trudy knew Hank for a long time and personally. “Why not you?”

She seemed taken aback by the question, stopping and staring at you. “What?”

“Why not you and Hank? You guys know one another. Seems like you know a lot about him, at least.”

She scoffed. “It’s my job to know a lot about everybody.” She stood and went back to the stove. “Hank and I just aren’t like that with each other. Never have been, even before he met Camille.”

“You’re saying you never had a crush on him?”

Trudy rolled her eyes and looked at you over her shoulder. “I never said that, but it wasn’t anything. When a male is kind to you in a hostile world, you tend to latch on to those things. I was young, and nothing ever came of it. We settled into a friendship role, maybe even a family role.” She hiked her shoulders and turned off the stove. “I could never see myself with him, even then. I just convinced myself I could.”

You hummed, then moved off the stool to set the table as Trudy finished putting dinner together. The two of you ate together and had some wine before you went home, lying awake in bed and contemplating what to say to Hank Voight the next day.

—

When he walked by you the next morning, you smiled, a more genuine smile than forced one. It made him look twice, seeing you smile genuinely. His lips pulled up in a smile just the same, barely watching here he was walking as he nearly ran into a beat officer. You laughed a little, both of you blushing as you shared a small moment that nobody else seemed to notice, not even Trudy, seeing as she was in the back at the time.

You thought about Hank’s offer once again. You’d be able to see him every day. But, he would be your boss. How would that even work? You hummed as you went to work, a small grin still on your face.

—

When lunch rolled around, you checked your watch, then moved upstairs and tapped Trudy’s arm softly. “Buzz me up?” You grabbed your lunch cooler from under the counter and slung it over your shoulder.

“Sure,” she replied, nodding to you.

You walked over to the cage, opening the door when Trudy buzzed you in. Then, you climbed the steps and looked around. You’d only been up to Intelligence a few times, only to bring files up. You typically never got further than Antonio’s desk before someone took them from you and sent you packing. That day, most of the Intelligence unit was gone. Only detectives Olinsky and Halstead were left, both sitting at their desks, chatting to one another. Hank was in his office, working on some paperwork.

Mustering all the confidence you had, you walked straight through the bullpen and into the doorway of Hank’s office. You knocked on the doorframe softly as he looked up, smiling at him. “Hey. Have you eaten yet?”

Hank hummed and sat up in his seat, having been leaning over before. “No, I haven’t,” he said softly, motioning you inside.

You shut the door behind you, sitting down across from him and pulling things from the cooler you’d since set down. “I figured we could talk and eat,” you replied. “Turkey or ham?”

Hank looked you over. “You didn’t have to do this, (Y/N).”

You blushed, but pulled out a chilled water bottle and set it in front of him. “Turkey or Ham?” You insisted.

Hank was silent for a moment, meeting your eyes. Your previously mustered confidence was the only thing holding you together, and it was quickly fading as Hank challenged your kindness. He didn’t mean to, it was simply his demeanor. “Ham,” he finally said.

You held out the chilled ham sandwich you’d prepared that morning, allowing him to take it as you cleared your throat, taking a moment to breathe before speaking again. “I just wanted to talk to you, ya know?”

“Okay,” Hank said, nodding and taking a bite from the sandwich. “About what?”

“About yesterday.” You took a bite of your sandwich as well to buy yourself some time. Everything you’d thought of went out the window as the butterflies set in. Hank’s presence was enough to make your head spin, let alone being in a room alone with him. “I, uh, thought about your offer a lot.”

“Mmhm?” Hank hummed as he chewed another bite, looking at you.

You blushed when you met his eyes, looking at your feet, using your free hand to wipe something off of your pants. “Yeah, I… I think… I think what happened was you offered me two things.”

Hank nodded, still looking at you. “I guess maybe I did.”

You looked up to meet his eyes. “Then you know… that those two offers conflict.”

His chocolate eyes ran their way over your figure, then back to your face as Hank nodded. “I suppose they do.”

“So you understand… I can only accept one of those offers. Not because I don’t want both, but because I can’t have both.”

“Which one, then?” Hank asked bluntly, his voice quieter as the tension became thicker between the two of you. He leaned forward in his seat again as he set down his sandwich.

You bit your lip, your chest growing tighter as you swallowed hard. “I… can’t join Intelligence.”

Hank stared at you, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “I understand,” he said softly. “I think that’s a wise choice, though maybe I’m just partial to that option.”

You blushed, nodding slowly, looking down again and picking a hair off your sleeve, then looking back up. “You… really want someone as broken as me?”

Hank let out a small laugh. “(Y/N), you’re not broken. I mean, you’re one of the strongest people I know. What you overcame and what you did to overcome it, that’s ballsy, to say the least. I mean, making Maurice Owens find you a dirty cop to help solve your issues?”

“Yeah,” you muttered, remembering you still hadn’t paid him back for that.

When your eyes moved to the floor once again, Hank noticed the troubled look on your face. “What’s the matter?”

“I forgot that I owe Maurice for a few favors. I don’t even know what he wants.” You sighed. “Shit… probably sex or money.”

Hank shook his head, getting up from his seat and walking over, then crouching in front of you, taking your chin gently in his fingers. You met his eyes again. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay Maurice off.”

“But… Are you still out there? Dirty?” You suddenly had second thoughts. If Hank was a dirty cop, he would take you down with him. On the other hand, you couldn’t go much lower than you’d already gone with Jeff.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said softly. “When the time comes, I’ll explain, okay?”

“I just… if we get serious, and you’re dirty, it could-“

“I would never let that happen. Do you trust me?”

You scoffed a little, a small smile pulling at your lips. “I trusted you with my life. It would be silly to stop now.”

“Then know that when I say I would never let anything happen to you because of me, I mean it. I’ll protect you.” His opposite hand was placed on your knee, his eyes looking intently into yours. “I’ll pay Maurice off on your behalf, alright?”

“You really don’t have to do that, Hank, I… I owe him a lot. He said it was doubled at one point… I-“

Hank gently shushed you, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip as he cupped your face. “I’ve got it. Trust me.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay,” you whispered, leaning into his hand. His touches were so gentle, more so than any man you’d experienced before. For having a bad reputation, Voight didn’t seem all that bad. He was certainly better than Jeff. You understood why Trudy was close with him despite his dirty dealings.

“Okay,” he affirmed, smiling at you. You couldn’t help but smile back, and for just a moment, the world went away. Your horrible past, Voight’s horrible past, the debts you owed to Maurice, it all went away. You gazed into his chocolate brown eyes, his hands now gently holding yours, his smile wrapping you up and making you feel safer than ever. You knew you were making the right choice at that point. “Thank you, Hank.”

[ficmashup]

Learning

Summary: You join TF141 after something happened on your last deployment. They take you in and while it takes some time, you find yourself warming up to them, and them to you. Perhaps especially to the Captain.

A/N: Hello, my sweet darlings. This one is pretty indulgent and I'm sorry it's so short! It just had to be this way and I couldn't fit it anywhere else, so I decided to just go with it. I have a vague idea of where I'm going, but no promises. ;) Hey, a summary! Will probably go back and do specific summaries, but for now this is good enough. Thanks for reading! <3

Warnings: As always with this fic, vague references of SA, crass language, talk of injuries, honestly a sickening amount of fluff.

Word Count: 2.4k (Short, I know! Sorry!)

Feral Masterlist

I don’t leave Soap’s side as he recovers. Thankfully, the infection isn’t a bad one and the fever breaks in a couple days. I keep him in the infirmary for one more day and threaten Soap with more if he so much as puts a foot on the floor. “And what about you, lass? You look dead on your feet.” He looks at me pointedly while I resist sticking my tongue out at him like a child.

“’M not on my feet.” I object as I settle back into my chair with a yawn, Ghost’s jacket dwarfing me as I tug it on. He’d visited and hadn’t reclaimed it yet, so it’s my personal blanket for now. I’d like to wash it before I give it back anyway. The boys had each tried to convince me to head back to my room, but I hadn’t given in yet. Price hadn’t ordered me away, so I figured I had a little more time. “Said I’d stay until you’re well. I keep my word.”

“I’m well enough, G. You’re discharging me tomorrow. Come on, go get some real sleep in your own bed.” Soap pushes and I shake my head, resting it back against the chair as my eyes close.

“About to get some sleep right here, right now.” I open an eye to peak at him and point an accusatory finger at him. “Remember that the other nurses will tell me if you move.” They were the ones who had to treat the soldiers I fought when I first got here. They wouldn’t lie for him. Not to me, anyway. Soap rolls his eyes with a huff before my eyes shut again. I’m nearly asleep when I hear the familiar scuff of boots stopping next to me and I look up a bit blearily.

“I’m relieving you tonight, soldier.” Price’s voice wakes me up a bit more and I wipe a hand over my eyes as my brows furrow.

“That’s not necessary, sir. It’s my job.” I sit up a bit more, pulling the sleeves of Ghost’s jacket up so my hands are free.

“And it’s my job to see to the welfare of my team.” He points out as his fingers curl in a gesture for me to get up. I rise with a small huff and keep a hand on the arm of the chair to keep myself steady. My lips part to object again, but Price steps a bit closer and bends down a bit so only I can hear his words. “You’ve done a hell of a job looking after Johnny. Time you looked after yourself.” He holds my gaze for a moment, his hand reaching out to lightly squeeze my shoulder in his usual method of encouragement. A little smile creeps onto my face at the feeling, at knowing him well enough to see that.

I heave a breath. I’m being overprotective, possessive, as Soap would put it. Certain memories stick in my mind despite the fact that Soap isn’t me and I didn’t have a team like this the last place I was in. “You’ll send for me if something happens?” I allow at last and ignore Soap’s slack-jawed look. A few words from Price can get me to leave, but an hour-long argument with him and the others didn’t so much as get me to budge. Well. Price knows why I’m reticent.

Price nods without hesitation. “You’ll be the first to know. I won’t leave until you discharge him tomorrow.” My jaw locks as I consider it for a few moments before nodding my agreement. Price squeezes my shoulder again in acknowledgement of how difficult this is for me even though we both know I’m using my background as a basis, rather than logic. He turns towards the chair and this time I’m the one who reaches out, my fingers sliding over his hand on my shoulder. He turns back towards me and I soak in his pretty blue eyes.

“Thank you.” The words are quiet, but firm and full of sincerity. His gaze softens in that sweet way they sometimes do and his hand turns, his fingers brushing mine before both our hands drop.

“You’re welcome.” He responds just as quietly before I turn to Soap who is blinking as if worried he’s hallucinating.

“Remember the nurses know my orders and won’t hesitate to snitch on you to Price.” I pin him to the bed with my gaze before he holds up his hands in surrender. My feet carry me out of the infirmary before I can change my mind and I sigh entering my room. I barely have the energy to kick off my boots before I collapse onto my bed and instantly fall asleep.

*     *     *

I’ve no clue what time it is when I wake up. It’s still dark out, that’s clear to see, and I’m groggy as hell. A quick glance at my phone reveals that it’s two a.m. and my stomach gurgles loudly. Sighing, I slide out of bed and rustle around my bags before finding a granola bar that I immediately shove in my mouth. It’ll tide me over until I somehow find some more food. Half-asleep, I shrug Ghost’s jacket on and drape a blanket around me as I head out towards the mess hall. I pass by the infirmary and slow down a little, then decide to duck in for just a second. They usually have some good rations hidden away anyway.

A soft smile comes to my face as I see the boys exactly where I left them. Soap is asleep with some drool coming out of his mouth and Price is sleeping in the chair next to him, his hat pulled low over his face and his feet propped up next to Soap’s on the bed. I creep in and ignore the scolding look the on-duty nurse gives me as I walk over to them. Something in my chest eases seeing everything is alright without me.

Carefully, I drape my body warmed blanket over Price and he doesn’t move a muscle except for the steady up and down of his chest as he breathes. There are a few cups of pudding next to Soap’s bed and I happily scoop one up and open it with a little crinkling sound from the packaging. “Couldn’t resist?” I freeze at the gruff voice and see the corner of Price’s mouth lift as he reaches up to set his hat properly on his head so he can look at me. I smile sheepishly at him.

“Got a bit hungry. The infirmary always has the good snacks.” I tell him honestly and he quirks a skeptical eyebrow at me. “And I may have wanted to check in while I was out. Didn’t mean to wake you, Price.”

He shakes his head, that near smile still on his face. “I’m impressed you made it this long, actually.” He sits up and moves his feet onto the floor, cracking his neck with a heavy sigh. I smirk a little as he moves. That chair isn’t that comfortable and no one knows that more than me. I grab another pudding cup and spoon before offering both to him. He glances at them, then to me, then takes them while I grin.

“I swear I would’ve made it until tomorrow if I hadn’t gotten hungry.” I say softly while we both eat the pudding. Chocolate. It’s not too bad for military rations.

Price hums in amusement. “Should’ve made you eat something before I sent you off. Should’ve also gotten you a better chair to sleep in while you looked after Johnny. This thing is a fuckin’ nightmare.” He kicks the leg of the chair he’s in with his heel and I giggle, short and sweet. His eyes crinkle slightly as he smiles at me and I feel something in me soften. He really cares about his team. Which includes me now, I suppose. That’s why he stayed here tonight, not to watch Soap, but to put my mind at ease.

“You don’t have to stay here the rest of the night, Captain. Soap seems well looked after.” I say quietly and he raises his brows.

“You sure about that?” He asks and I nod.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” I spare Soap a look and take a breath as I feel doubt creeping up into my throat. Soap isn’t me and the situations are completely different. Time to move forward. “I’ll walk you out.” I turn back to Price and I’m struck dumb with the pride in his gaze.

He nods slowly, considering me a moment longer before he agrees and lays the blanket I put over him onto Soap’s bed. “Alright.” He stands and I put a hand over my mouth as he groans softly while stretching. Those lovely eyes shoot daggers at the chair behind him. “Remind me to burn that chair.”

“Yes, sir.” There’s amusement in my voice and he gives me a look that tells me he knows I’m laughing at him. He doesn’t call me out on it though and merely smirks as I take another pudding cup to eat as we quietly leave the infirmary.

“Lucky you got the soft introduction to treating the team when we’re injured.” Price says as we walk slowly through the halls. Our pace is a tad slower, but I don’t mind spending a little extra time talking with Price. He goes on, “Soap and Gaz aren’t too bad. Johnny gets a bit restless, but he’s not too bad. Gaz is a smartass and tends to hide how bad things are with humor. You have to push a bit or he has to trust you enough to be straight with you. And Ghost…” He trails off and reaches up to wipe a hand over his facial hair, shaking his head.

“Difficult one, hm?” It’s not a surprise to me. Ghost seems as likely to trust others as I am and that’s not much.

Price sighs as we come to a stop outside my room and turn to face one another. “He’s a stubborn bastard. Won’t tell you something’s wrong unless he’s bleeding out.”

I grimace, but make a mental note of the fact. “Okay. I’ll keep an eye out.” Because I know he’s not telling me this simply to talk. Price isn’t the time of man to do things idly. He’s giving me a lot of trust by letting me into his team, trusting me to take care of them to the best of my ability. The relationship between a medic and a captain can make or break a team. It’s up to both of us, him giving the orders and me patching everyone up, to keep everyone whole and safe.

He nods and there isn’t any doubt in his eyes. “I know you will. You’re a hell of a medic.” He glances down to Ghost’s jacket still wrapped around me and I tug a bit on the sleeves while he smiles. “You’ve made real strides with this team in a short amount of time. That’s nothing to scoff at.”

“You all welcomed me too.” I point out, holding out my hands that are half hidden in Ghost’s jacket to prove a point. “Despite my…less than warm attitude.”

Price hums in amusement. “You did better than you think. Ghost didn’t answer anyone but me with anything other than grunts the first two months he was here.”

I laugh softly. “Really?”

“Told you he was a stubborn bastard.” Price confirms with a warm smile on his face. “Soap was the one to eventually break him down. Took a while though.” I lean back against the door frame of my room as I hear the thinly veiled comfort in his words. He’s saying it’s okay that it’s taking me a while too.

I hesitate a moment, then decide to go for it. “Ghost told me that you kept my file to yourself. I appreciate that.” My eyes hold his as I speak so he can see the genuine gratefulness in my gaze.

He nods, not having to think about it for a second. “No thanks needed. I figured you would tell who you wanted when you wanted.”

“Well, my preferred answer to that would be no one and never, but apparently that’s bad for my mental health.” We both chuckle before his stance softens a touch and he shifts towards me despite not taking a step closer.

“You’re a tough soldier, I know you know that. I’m glad to have been able to give you a place here. Give you a team that actually deserves you.” I’m caught in his eyes for a moment, in the absolute certainty in his voice that I’m a good fit for the team that he holds in such high esteem. His team.

I smile, glancing down at the floor a moment while my head shakes. “You’re a really fucking good captain, you know that?” My compliment isn’t as smooth or deft as his, but it’s sincere. Our gazes meet again and he looks a bit taken aback, then a surprised smile takes over his face. He chuckles softly and the sound is warm like a glass of whiskey.

“Don’t know about that. I try.” He says, reaching up and lifting his hat to rub a hand over his head, then putting the hat back on. I smile a tiny bit. Is he…flustered?

“No, I’m telling you. As a member of your team. You’re a good captain.” I don’t give him time to brush it off as I reach out and squeeze his bicep with a little smirk on my face at turning his habit back around on him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I open the door to my room and take in that sweet, soft look in his eyes.

“Tomorrow.” He tips his hat and I can’t stop my wide grin as he pauses, second guessing the movement before he shakes his head. I watch him walk away before one more thing pops into my head.

“You never said how you are when you’re injured.” I call out and he turns back to me with a half-shrug and mischevious smile.

“Insufferable.” He responds and leaves me with a smile on my face. I hold his cigar box as I sleep, but it’s for a little more than chasing away nightmares…

Taglist (hi! it's so nice having so many people wanting to be tagged! Thanks for being interested! If anyone else wants to be tagged, lmk);

@under-the-dirt @jj-ara33 @sorchateas @cherry-blosom-tree

@thriving-n-jiving @jinxxangel13

[twst-drabbles]

For the sanctuary AU,

One of my characters reincarnates back and forth through time and dimension, so I got a thought while reading that one Drabble you wrote about the Caretaker being killed by the kidnappers.

So for the pet or sanctuary au,

What if after we die we kind of just. Show up one day out of the blue, kind of like

*wakes up*

‘Huh, wait.’ “OH SHIT! I LEFT MY BOYS!”

And just books it knowing it’s been a while since they died, I’m thinking like two decades so this mini version of their caretaker shows up ready to beat someone for hurting their boys.

‘Oh fuck oh shit oh damn it where the fuck do I-‘

“SUP MOTHAFU-“

*bashes head in with a chair*

“Hey sweetheart how are you? So sorry I’m late let’s go home- oh shit I have parents”

And goes back with these massive guys attached to them and not letting go ever.

(The bad end boys need a happy ending)

Hahaha that's a real comedic take. Anger is still fresh in their hearts since I would imagine that being dead doesn't exactly allow one to feel the full extent of time passing.

Though, me being me, I naturally have to think of the very, veeeeery angsty route that comes with the Caretaker being dead for this long. It's mostly going to be a ramble, and Crowley will take center stage for a bit because of course that be the first person I’d latch onto when thinking about how the death of the Caretaker would affect people, and how their sudden coming back would play out.

Let's see let's see...

So, obviously there would be many changes regarding everyone that's involved with the Caretaker in some form or fashion. They are a pretty beloved person within this neighborhood all things considered.

Before I turn my attention to the pets/familiars in question, I actually want to focus on Crowley of all people. He's a strange man, that's for sure. This weird unaging figure that's been in this neighbor for longer than anyone can remember. Back then, before you entered his life, he was just this strange and rather reclusive man in a hat that mutters to himself while collecting all sorts of odd magical items and other things that may as well be cursed. He didn't used to have a garden, actually, or any of the fancy sprinklers and

So, that being said, the death of the Caretaker would hit Crowley the hardest out of everyone involved. I cannot emphasize enough how much this affected this man. I know I don’t really write much about him in regards to the housepet and sanctuary au, but he’s a pretty integral part of the Caretaker’s life, and vice-versa.

That being said, Crowley is focused on one thing, and one thing only: righting wrongs. It’s a real quiet vengeance quest honestly. Hell, I hesitate to call it a vengeance quest because Crowley isn’t murdering out of any anger in him, he’s basically doing it out of obligation. Like this was the next natural step, when all Crowley wants to do is go back home and wallow in his misery and never come out.

There is this dangerous, single minded focus to him either way. He knows doing this won’t make him feel better, but it causes him misery to think that the people that hurt the Caretaker could still be alive. That they must be rolling in their grave, unable to find peace because he chose to stay inside and let time rot him from the inside.

It’s kind of hilarious to think about. Where, in the event of the Caretaker’s unfair and early death, Crowley ends up becoming the main character. At least, for a time.

So, that being said, the pets do end up being rescued by Crowley, but it’s pretty much clear that the thought of carefully taking care of them is not in his head. He gets them out of their various situations, and then pretty much leaves them to their own devices to complete this hunting quest he’s on. And once he’s got everyone and got rid of those that hurt the Caretaker, he’ll retreat back into his home and become the hermit he used to be.

So yeah, the pets and Crowley will have an interesting situation going on between them. They appreciate the fact that he rescued them, certainly, but they’re not close. Crowley’s priority has always been the Caretaker, and it feels like dangerous territory to tread when attempting to help him move on.

And when the Caretaker just comes back two decades later, Crowley is going to be… weird honestly. Years of being despondent to the world and completing his revenge and getting all the pets back and still without the Caretaker, only to have them back as though death never touched them in the first place would mess him up in a different way.

We’re pretty much used to Crowley being this flight of fancy, air-headed bird of man, doing whatever the hell he wants in that bumbling–and sometimes selfish–way of his. For all his flaws, his heart is usually in the right place. The annoying crow man we all know and love.

Now we get to deal with a version of Crowley that’s let himself unhealthily stew in his grief for far longer than even the pets lets themselves grieve.

Have you ever been dotted on by someone who relies so heavily on your safety and happiness that they react like they’re dying whenever you get so much as a paper cut? Like their own safety is second fiddle compared to yours, and will probably make themselves sick with worry if you go missing for too long?

Yeah, Crowley’s kinda like that. He tries to act normal, tries to go back to that jolly self but every time the Caretaker so much as gets a cut, everything about him goes silent and Crowley’s eyes grow real intense.

Dude’s plagued by some intense and horribly unchecked paranoia. And has an unhealthy dependence on the Caretaker.

So anyways, onto the pets! In no particular order and obviously not going to talk about all of them because there’s just too many.

So anyways, I really can’t imagine the familiars would be stuck in their horrible situation. And by the time the Caretaker reappears, back from the dead, they’ve all gone their separate ways.

While all of them are pretty much functioning as familiars and pets should, they haven’t really healed and are simply sweeping everything under the rug for the sake of those in their group. Forcing themselves into a “normal” routine while refusing to address all the things wrong with themselves. Resentment, naturally, is bound to pop up.

I’d say stuff in this au reflects what goes on in the actual canon material, though with everything being tied back to the Caretaker and the fact that none of the pets have forgiven themselves for letting them die, even though there was literally nothing they could’ve done. They all have done their best.

Riddle’s tyrannical behavior? Hasn’t forgiven himself for not being stricter with his rules, for being so lax that people came in and killed the Caretaker. A tighter grip on his garden means he can better protect the people in it. And when they even break one rule, no matter how benign, they must be punished so such a thing never happens again. Because one slip up can lead to more uninvited danger, and another life lost.

Leona’s nihilistic attitude and resentment towards Malleus? Leona has tried his best and still couldn’t have saved the Caretaker, and Malleus, being gifted with more power than anyone else, should’ve been able to save them but he didn’t. They were all useless. So, what’s the point in trying when, no matter how hard you search and improve oneself, you can’t reverse the mistakes made? All Leona has is his resentment, and so he will bring it forth.

Azul’s taking advantage of people and hoarding of wealth? The world runs on money, and without it, you’re less than nothing. And when you’re less than nothing, you can easily be hurt and killed without a second thought. Hoard enough wealth, put enough value on one’s self, and you’ll basically be nigh untouchable. And surely, when you’re finally untouchable, you’ll be able to protect everything.

Jamil’s resentment towards Kalim and his plans to turn everyone against him? The people that have killed the Caretaker originally wanted to target Kalim and his family for his own pets. Unfortunately, Caretaker was friends with Kalim and, they’re the easier target. It shouldn’t have been them.

Vil’s obsession with perfecting other, himself and breakdown at his own perceived ugliness? It’s his emotional crutch, his physical evidence that he can do well for himself, that he’s not falling apart at the seams with the death of the Caretaker. Neige is doing well for himself after all, So well. So so so well. So Vil must also do well, must be better, in fact.

Idia’s resentment of the happier world around him and overindulgence in various hobbies to the point of being horribly socially stunted? Trying to retreat back into happier times before the death of the Caretaker. It was easier, back then. Everything was so much easier that this current world is just… not worth it.

Malleus’s frustrations at being left behind as time continues to move while he remains stuck in place? He’s still adjusting to a routine without the Caretaker there to keep him company. He still has habits that he developed in response to being around the Caretaker, he still sets up his diner table with an extra plate, and always wakes up in the sunlight expecting to hear their voice somewhere in the distance. It’s unfair, really.

The Caretaker is dead and gone, has been for a while, so none of them register that all of their problems stem from the fact that they feel heavy guilt for watching them get killed. They all think they’re ‘better’ now. They’re not. They still got problems.

So yeah, when the Caretaker comes back, all their coping mechanisms are going to go out of wack. There will be a happy ending, but boy is it going to be hard to get to.

Fun stuff, fun stuff.

[adayladoorwalt]

This is a bit of a rant. Something that feels so wrong to me on twitter is the fact that people genuinely think that the end of the dsmp meant the end of anything related to the series, when the dsmp ended people left because of their own personal issues and feelings. The fans moved on and then the stories that could have happened were lost. Think about the stories that because of the fandom’s response to even seeing dsmp, were lost. I think back to how when Ponk expressed interest in doing projects on the dsmp, her fans fucking freaked, thusly they stopped any mention of a new dsmp project.

The DSMP isn’t lost media because of lost streams or lack of content, it’s lost media because the streamers never came back to something that they enjoyed doing.

I think of the creators who actually credit their time in the dsmp as a way to grow their audience and now don’t mention it because it’s not a project that is still happening. I think of Eret just occasionally talking about the fun they had on the server, what their plans for their story and them actually acknowledge the existence of their time on the dsmp. Fundy had an interview a few months back and he fully acknowledged that he used clickbait to make it in the mcyt bubble. There are former dsmp creators who acknowledge, express admiration for being on the project and then leave it be. They are few and far between.

More and more I see creators who were in the space are stupidly trying to get the high of 2020-2022. Trying to get to those extreme heights and now they figure that dissing the dsmp as it’s no longer ‘cool’ and ‘popular’ to have any positive thoughts on it. Philza in particular is the one that comes to mind with the ‘i’d rather gauge my eyes out then ever go back the dsmp’ comment which he later went back on like ‘oh I actually had a good time’. I never have appreciated any of the comments considering my favorite person from the dsmp often talked about how much he enjoyed playing on it. How he died not thinking he wouldn’t be able to finish his storyline but he did. The storyline he started became buried in the sands of the dsmp.

Techno’s legacy as a member of the dsmp is one that had a great impact on so many people who now don’t even have that. The creators who decided clout was worth more than being able to be able to communicate with each other.

Complain all you want about Dream’s ‘lack of communication’ but it seems now knowing about the fuck show that has been about any fucking drama that has happened in the past year, everyone of these fuckers can’t fucking communicate.

Now creator want come back pretending to have enjoyed the project and now their fans are being annoying about how much they thought it ‘could have been so much better if x,y,z’ and really it’s their creator’s fault. It’s their own fault for not just realizing that they may have not actually enjoyed the dsmp. The fans are the reason the dsmp was dead. Because to dteam+munchymc fans we desperately miss the dsmp. Techno fans do too. The fans of the dsmp are not the ones that are coming back, it’s the ones that stayed.

I just am having so many issues with the current ‘dsmp discourse’ and it stems from idiots being idiots.

[crow-aeris]

Part 2 of my take on Batfam x Pokemon

In this part, I’m including Steph and Cass. I know I said i was also gonna do Damian and duke, but i haven't had inspiration yet 😭😭

Part 1 is here

=====

Stephanie: She’s always overlooked for the guys when it comes to Robin. I know she wasn’t Robin for long, but I’d still like to reference it at least somewhat

Taillow/Swellow | “Tolson” - Steph finds Taillow when she was a few years old. She brought him inside and insisted that they keep him. Despite Arthur saying no, no matter how hard they try, the taillow kept coming back, and so they literally had zero choice but to keep him!

Ralts/Gardevior | “Misty” - She finds a little ralts wandering around Gotham toward her first few years as Spoiler. She played with her for a little while, and the ralts continued to follow Steph around Gotham before saving her from an attacking an attacking houndoom and then leading her to a shiny Umbreon, who just so happened to belong to the third robin

Feebass/Milotic | “Little Guy” - toward the latter of her time as spoiler, she finds a little guy (feebass) just swimming around in the muck of gotham. she felt bad for the “little guy” and took him in. turns out, little guy eventually becomes big guy- a Milotic!

Fennekin/Delphox | “Katniss” - the first pokemon she finds as Robin (which matches her with the other robins, and she would be lying if she said it didn’t feel like fate)

Jolteon | “Sparky” - She’s given Jolteon by Bruce when she comes back from the “dead” (Note that the others have all started as eevees before evolving into the pokemon they are now, whereas Steph’s jolteon never grew up with her. this can either be read as her being accepted into the batfam without truly NEEDING to be Robin, her never really being part of the batfam in the first place, or bruce wanting to erase her time as “Robin” and acknowledgethat she was so much more than his sidekick. it’s all up to the reader to decide how much angst they want to indulge in :3)

Cass: Being raised as a weapon, she probably relates more to pokemon than she does humans, seeing as they don’t rely solely on words to communicate, but with body language and such too. this probably lends to her having a closer bond with her pokemon, and the bats/citizens of gotham coming up to her and asking why their pokemon are acting up/if their pokemon love them and whatnot. she’ll work closely with Damian to bust pokemon trafficking rings and others of the such :3 I'm also unsure what exactly she'd name her pokemon, but she'd probably have help from tim and steph later on

Riolu/Lucario | “Reed” - her first pokemon was a riolu given to her to use. they are completely and wholly dedicated to each other in the beginning, since both were hesitant to take another creature's life. Riolu evolves into Lucario to help Cass escape, and helped bring Cass onto Bruce's radar

Trapinch/Flygon | "Falen" - Cass finds a trapich buried in the sand while in the middle east, and decides to keep it. It stays, and eventually evolves into flygon, who sticks loyally by her side

Eevee/Vaporeon | “Eve” - Tim gives Cass an eevee as a gift within her first years with the Batfam while the others were still wary of her. Cass loves the eevee SO much, but she accidentally runs into a water stone that dick had left out, and evolved into a vaporeon rather than a sylveon

Rockruff/Lycanroc | “Sedis” - Jason is the one who gives her a rockruff as a peace offering, or maybe a bride to look past his killing of vile criminals? Either way, she keeps the little guy, and she lets tim name the pokemon, and he chooses Sedis to match with Iggy (Sedimentary and Igneous rocks)

Cosmog/Solgaleo | “Lumens” - I think Cass deserves to be the only one with a box legendary :3 she probably picks up a cosmog after settling in with the batfam, and when she shows him off, everyone is like 😃 Tim is really intrigued, and damian is jealous that HE didn't get to have a sparkly space cloud, and he'd be even MORE jealous when he finds out that Cass gets to have a sparkly space LION (Lord knows he 100% wants a lion)

[skkfujoshi]

Until the night falls we’re aligned

“I thought you were dead.” “My death was greatly exaggerated.”Chuuya replied,seating himself across from Fukuzawa 

It was a tad strange,Chuuya had to admit.In a lot of ways it felt like being in his father’s office as a child.The same judgmental look solely focused on him,the door closed if not locked making him feel like he could scream and nobody would hear.

But he was an adult now.An equal.He had nothing to worry about,nothing at all.Worst Fukuzawa could really do is refuse to help him.

Fukuzawa offered him some tea and Chuuya accepted it though he didn’t drink any of it.

“I’ll be blunt,Fukuzawa.You can drop the niceties.I know you still resent me for what I did back at the tunnels.I don’t expect forgiveness for that.”

The older man regarded him shrewdly for a moment,putting the teapot down.

“You’re a guest.Tea is the bare minimum for those as far as I’m concerned.Though,I’ll give you this,you’re more direct than your late father.In that spirit,allow me to be honest as well,Nakahara.I didn’t propose this alliance. I wouldn’t have even so much as considered it after your actions towards my staff.But…Atsushi suggested it.And we both know just how unkind your organization has been to him.”

Chuuya was honestly gobsmacked.Either Atsushi was the dumbest or the smartest person alive.Or,considering his mentor,just crazy.

“Surprised?” “Certainly.After everything we did,you’d think he’d want our destruction more than anything.” “He’s a good man,perhaps in his hope and optimism,wiser than us both.And it is his experience that convinced me to offer this olive branch.Those are my reasons,but what are yours?”

Chuuya took a deep breath.

“I suppose it’s rather simple at the end of the day,Fukuzawa.I care about this city and my subordinates.Just like you.Sure,I can free Yumeno on my own but taking care of the Guild by myself is…Risky with my ability.I can’t afford to endanger him like that.He’s already been trough hell,I can’t risk putting him trough another lifetime of it.”he confessed 

Fukuzawa’s expression could only be described as immovable as he let Chuuya go on.

“And I’m sure you’ve become acquainted with Kōyo’s affection for Kyouka.If we’re allied,I can avoid breaking her heart by…” “Killing the girl.” “Punishing her treason.”Chuuya amended “She wasn’t in the dark about what would happen to her if she left and refused to come back.If I hadn’t altered the rules,she would’ve been killed by Akutagawa that day.”

Fukuzawa nodded though more in acknowledgement than approval.

“Pretty words are all well and good,boss,but they prove nothing.You can plead with me all you want,but you’ve put nothing on the line and you’ve offered me nothing in turn.” “I’d disagree.I have put quite a bit on the line here…Tell me,president,why do you suppose I stayed dead all this time?”

At that,the door swung open.

“Ooh,ooh I know the answer to that one!To spite me!”Dazai exclaimed excitedly 

Chuuya and Fukuzawa both blinked at him,disbelieving the audacity they were seeing.At least,Chuuya assumed they were on the same page about that.

“President,Mr Nakahara, I’m so sorry,I tried to stop him,but…You know how he is…”Kunikida muttered from a few paces behind

Sighing,Fukuzawa gestured for them to come in,much to Chuuya’s chagrin.

“It’s fine and…Kunikida what is that?”he asked,pointing at the small object pinched between Kunikida’s fingers

Before he could explain,Chuuya plucked it,sliding it across Fukuzawa’s desk.

“A flash drive with info on the Guild.I wrote some down when we made our initial deal with them.It’s not a lot,I admit but…I think you can take all you can get.” “And you just conveniently forgot to bring it with?”Dazai asked “Things happen.”

Chuuya shrugged,turning back to Fukuzawa

“Bring the world’s best detective to see if it all tracks and if it doesn’t you can have Kunikida here shoot me on the spot.”Chuuya said quickly before Dazai could get Fukuzawa’s ear again

A bit of a desperate play,it seemed,but he could hardly be blamed.Between him and Dazai the answer to who they were gonna believe was a no brainer,even though Chuuya was telling the truth about the drive’s contents.

The three exchanged looks,before Fukuzawa gave Kunikida a quick nod,after which he left and closed the door.

“Is Ranpo stuck on a train again?”Dazai asked “No.But he wanted to pick out some new candy so I sent Kunikida to escort him.”

Chuuya tried not to focus on the way their hands were tapping the desk,though he supposed it didn’t matter since they obviously knew he could hear them.And Dazai knew he could understand Morse code.

The message was clear.They weren’t gonna send Ranpo in to check the info.Fukuzawa believed him.

Chuuya 1

Dazai 0

Get shat on,waste of bandages!

“Anyway,Nakahara,as you were saying?” “Right.So,once I ‘died’,rival gangs got a lot more daring.Go figure,a nobody as the boss of the Port Mafia is a lot more of a tempting target than the previous boss’s son.”

Fukuzawa nodded,stroking his jaw .As a former assassin the appeal was probably quite clear to him.

“Inexperienced,statistically unlikely to have an ability,probably cocky…Weak link.” “Exactly.It gave me an element of surprise,but now…Since I let the info out in front of most of your employees,I’m technically at your mercy aren’t I?”

That earned him a tilt of the head from Fukuzawa and a couple bewildered blinks from Dazai.

“Well,Dazai still has my death certificate.From what I’ve been told ten minutes is not nearly enough time to give out one of those.” “Certainly suspect.”Fukuzawa agreed

Unfortunately the comment about Dazai having the certificate seemed to slide off with not as much as a glance at the man in question.

Well…Undermining Dazai was a bust…Still,the brunette was a creature of habit and if Chuuya knew Dazai’s interrogation techniques and know them he did…

“Not to mention he has Kōyo’s interrogation most likely taped somewhere and you still have the tunnel footage where I was clearly using ‘Upon the Tainted Sorrow’.Throw that into the wild and my enemies will know exactly what to do so they can play me like a fiddle.”

-

“And from what history would they draw your weaknesses,boss?Surely such a smart man would never be so transparent .”Dazai said,voice drowning in sarcasm

Even though his nails were right at his mouth,teeth ready to bite down any moment.

A part of him was genuinely impressed,proud in a strange way.Turning what was by all means a blunder every which way into a genuinely good bargaining chip was nothing short of genius.

But the other,more rational and smarter part of him felt a curling dread at the bottom of his stomach.

“How very Mori-esque of our hatrack…”it remarked with a nervous laugh

Chuuya scoffed at Dazai’s ‘compliment’.

“Wouldn’t you know Dazai-san?You were there,after all.And you know full well younger me wasn’t nearly as good at hiding those.”he said turning to him

The expression could barely be called that.It betrayed nothing,at least as far Chuuya’s mouth went.His eyes though…His left was twitching,just a little,just a tad.Cold ,hard hatred to be more direct.Chuuya might as well have said”Bet you know all about why I started though,right,’Zai?”with how clearly it was written across his face.

“Dazai,Chuuya,do you consider yourselves clever?”Fukuzawa asked

The two turned to him.

Chuuya blinked at him dumbly,sheeplike in how blank and confused his face went in the moment.

Even more dumbly somehow,Dazai could only say “Huh?!”in response 

“Did you not hear me?” “No,we did.I mean,I did at least.But…What does that have to do with anything?” “What the mutt said.” “Why you-“ “Do you or do you not?”Fukuzawa asked again

It wasn’t a demand in the guise of a question and there was no sharpness to it,like Mori’s probings had been.Which made it that much more impressive that the question got Chuuya’s attention.Dazai was a little in awe,truth be told.

He nodded firmly and quickly .Chuuya tossed him a glare but Dazai chose to ignore it.At the end of the day,they both knew it wasn’t out of ego.He was the youngest executive for a reason and it sure as hell wasn’t his looks.

Chuuya nodded too,though it took him a bit of a moment to do so.Dazai hummed in acknowledgement.Seems he wasn’t completely up his own ass yet,despite all appearances to the contrary.

“I see.Do you think yourselves cleverer than me?”

Dazai was taken aback for a moment.Then he quickly fell in step with Chuuya,assuring Fukuzawa that no,of course not.

“Then I advise you to stop trying to bite of more than you can chew,Double Black.”

-

If Dazai looked like he had swallowed a fly at that,Chuuya felt like he was swallowing an entire swarm of them.

How the hell?!Dazai’s documents were good as gone!Chuuya knew,he fucking checked himself!

Which meant…Fukuzawa knew everything.And Chuuya had tried to dig Dazai’s past up right in front of the man’s nose.He probably looked underhanded and suspicious as hell now…

Shit,shit,shit…

He fucked up.He fucked up and now he’ll have to use corruption on his own and hope to God that whatever Lovecraft was couldn’t withstand it.

And if it did,Yumeno was as good as dead.Sure…Chuuya could try a second time but his body could only handle so much.

He ran his hand over his face,completely defeated.

“Where did I fuck up?”he asked weakly,hoping Fukuzawa actually didn’t hear the question  “You have a terrible poker face for starters.Not that I think you were lying,but you came off as a little desperate.Trying to air out Dazai’s secrets certainly wasn’t helping your case.All I can really say about that is that you should do better research.”Fukuzawa said

Why did Chuuya even  try?This men could read Mori like a damn book.Who did he think he was fooling?

“Not to mention I kept a close eye on your father’s escapades since we seperated.Even if most of that info scattered to the wind now,likelihood is I heard of it when it first sprung up.”

So he was doomed from the start…Great.

“However…” “However?”him and Dazai asked “Despite the clumsiness of your execution,I can recognize a genuine cry for help when I see it.Consider us at your disposal,boss.”

Chuuya blinked at him for a couple of moments,shocked.He squinted at Fukuzawa,looking hard for any sign of a trick or deception,but found none.

It wasn’t often that Chuuya felt blessed by the universe.Hell,it was rare that he felt anything but despised by it.

But if this was a blessing,Chuuya would spend every damn day thanking whatever deity or force brought it to him on his hands and knees.

-

“Thank you,Fukuzawa.Thank you so much.”Chuuya said

Dazai could only stand there,disbelieving.Chuuya was beaming and it was genuine.

Was he hallucinating?Had he finally cracked after 22 years? “Dazai?Are you listening?” “Sorry,president,think I missed that.Could you say it again?” “You’ll be helping Nakahara retrieve his subordinate from the Guild.Tonight.”

Previous fic part <—- Next fic part —->

First overall AU info post

[jomiddlemarch]

A letter always seemed to me like immortality

Everyone Diana wanted to write to was dead.

Walter, what seemed like a dozen lifetimes ago, at Courcelette if his last letter to Rilla was to be believed; Diana had often wondered whether he had already considered himself a dead man walking before the day of the last battle, the boy he’d been destroyed beyond repair or rebirth.

Aunt Leslie, whom she’d found it easier to talk to than her own mother, perhaps because she’d also had a brother she adored. Perhaps because she’d left Glen St. Mary and never missed it. 

Perhaps because Leslie liked whiskey better than tea, newspapers better than poetry. 

Una, who’d been too pale since she barely survived nursing her father and stepmother through the Spanish flu, who’d been someone everyone underestimated or decided to treat as a martyr, who would not have judged Di the way her own sisters would. 

Rosalind Foyle, whom she’d had to ask about as discreetly as she could, counting on her general reception as a cheerful and polite Canadian, not much like a bossy Yank, to yield her the few details she’d squirreled away. An artist, a mother. A beauty. Better-bred than her husband, well-liked, she’d had elegant hands and never forgot to wear gloves.

Diana only wore gloves to operate and if an actual gale was blowing in a blizzard.

Who had thought all she wanted was to go to France, to make something of her life that would last her the rest of it. That might make the rest of it of a duration she could bear, an end her family could cope with or justify why she’d never return to PEI.

Dear Una, You’re the best one to write to, I think. The one who’d mind the least, like it the most. The least awkward for me to imagine reading this, the least likely to tell me something I don’t want to know. I leave for France in a few weeks and now I don’t want to go. Or rather, I do and then I don’t. There’s something holding me in England now, something to do with Walter, a mystery. Men, who’ve died. A man who’s alive, very much so.

A man I want to know. His name is Foyle. Christopher. He knew Walter, said Walter knew him as Kit. Everyone calls him Foyle or sir or Superintendent. Christopher. Oh Una, I thought this was behind me. That it was something I’d never have to deal with, some sort of consolation of being a woman in a world missing a generation of men. I thought I wouldn’t know this and that was a relief, watching you and Rilla and Nan. Faith. Mary. I thought it was fair, that I’d never know heartbreak like this. And now there’s Christopher. A half-dozen dead men. Walter’s poem. And France, waiting for me. I have to go, I know that, but how do I go wanting to stay here, a place I can’t call home. Wanting to come back.

Christopher. I like writing his name because I oughtn’t say it often. That’s what a young girl does, lovesick, dull, embarrassing herself, making everyone around her smile behind their hands unless it’s Miss Cornelia, scolding you for making a fool of yourself and for what, a man? What’s a man worth, I ask you—can’t you hear her say it, tart, ready to wash her hands of us— I don’t care what a man’s worth, Una. Just Christopher. And I can’t answer the question, not to satisfy Miss Cornelia or you or myself.

You’d write me back something comforting, if you could. If you hadn’t died before your time, twice over, after the telegram, after the epidemic. I should have insisted you leave before me or with me. I should have told your father you were worth more than all the rest of them put together or made Dad send you away to convalesce, somewhere warm, where you might have lolled about, turning brown in the sun. I’ve said I’ll go to France and sew up the men who need sewing up. Cut off the parts that need cutting off. I’ve said that’s my life, my vocation, as important as Mother’s poetry, as Walter’s, as the babies Jem delivers and the columns Ken Ford writes, and it must be but now there’s murder and Christopher to contend with, a dozen mysteries at the heart of me. For it seems I’ve a heart after all, Una. It beats and beats and leaps when it oughtn’t. It will break, I know it shall.

Christopher. I’ll take a dream in lieu of a letter. A flower, out of place, in lieu of a word. Answer me if you can, Una. You can’t and I know that, but I’ll still hope, silly Di Blythe.

She put the letter in an envelope but left it unsealed and unaddressed.

Left the envelope in an otherwise empty drawer of the desk in her flat. If she didn’t return from France, well, that didn’t bear thinking about too closely. If her papers were sent back to Canada, her father would likely burn the letter rather than let her mother see it unless if gave it to Nan, thinking her twin would derive some comfort and, happily married to Jerry, the bonny wife and mother Di had not made of herself, could weather any pang it gave her.

If somehow it ended up with Christopher, he’d know how she’d once felt.

She could make that happen, writing his name across the white field of the envelope, but that was too much like a dare, and for all she was her father’s daughter, she still had her mother’s wise fear of the fey.

She’d written his name enough. She’d hope she’d come back to say it.

[amberskyyking]

Great news Tech fam, its Bad Batch Day and I am still on my bullshit with no end in sight, so welcome to another installment of This Isn’t Over Till I Fucking Say So, our man is alive and loved and coming home and canon cannot stop meeee!!!!!!! 😈

Implications Of Being Alive

Chapter 6: Is This The Real Life (Is This Just Fantasy)?

***CW: Talk of decom/death, dehumanization, and past medical trauma***

CX-2 activated… or… or perhaps Tech awoke.

Because Echo was still here, still holding its hand, even. It distinctly remembered asking Echo to stay with him, and Echo had responded Of course, vod. Right now there’s nowhere else I’d rather be, exactly.

He had kept his word.

Omega was here again, too, just like Echo had said she would be. He could barely make out the bright yellow of her jacket and tuft of blonde hair without corrective eye lenses of some sort, but the soft snoring sounds from nearby alerted him to her presence, and when he squinted, he could tell it was her, slouched over in a chair with her mouth hanging open.

Tech must have woken up, which meant it was dreaming again. Not that it particularly minded. That meant it hadn’t been decommissioned yet. Besides, it had never been able to stop the dreams before, but they had usually been pleasant. It was still registering some residual pain, but it suspected that if it woke, that particular issue would become significantly more apparent.

For now, it would accept the glitches. They were allowing it him to see his family one last time, which was more than he deserved.

“Well, look who’s up,” Echo muttered softly. “How are you feeling, Tech?”

Tech considered the question a moment before responding.

“Improved,” he settled on. What lingering pain he was still experiencing paled in comparison to anything he had been subjected to earlier, though he couldn’t say that it was completely gone.

“That’s good to hear,” Echo replied with a warm grin. “You should be in a lot better shape now. Not every medic knows how to work with biomechanics, but I happen to know of a few good ones myself. We got you a few upgrades. Couple of your servos were fried and your prosthetic arm was practically slag after that explosion. Omega got some good hits in on you too, but they weren’t lethal. Thank the maker she was holding back,” He muttered the last part under his breath.

“I would have to agree,” Tech said, glancing back over to her sleeping form in the chair. Omega had shown significant improvement in form and strategy in their fight since he had seen her last. It was obvious that his brothers had continued her training, and with his own degrading body and mechanics, it seemed unlikely now that he could truly match her. “I would rather not be dead.”

Echo grinned a little at that, though something sad flickered behind his eyes as he did. “Yeah… We prefer you not dead too, vod.”

Tech wasn’t sure what to make of Echo’s expression, but he nodded, moving an arm to prop himself up a bit better but quickly became aware of something strange. The arm felt different. Despite Echo’s claims of his arm being practically slag, it was fully functional, but not at all familiar.

“Ah… We had to completely replaced that,” Echo said softly, noticing his apparent confusion. “Even if the old one wasn’t destroyed, it was pretty outdated. Then again, I’m one to talk.” He spun his scomp a couple times, making a small whirring sound with it, and chuckled softly. “It’s a good model though, I made sure of it. Comfortable interfacing. Customizable, too. I… Figure you’ll want to make some adjustments of your own, once we have you out of here.”

“That would be ideal,” Tech replied, lifting the new prosthetic close to his eyes to examine it. There were modifications he had made to his old one that would likely be missed, however, many of those had been due to necessity in order to prolong function. If this arm worked as intended already, duplicating what extra features he was missing wouldn’t take much effort. Perhaps there would even be room to install some experimental ones.

A sharp inhale from the corner chair pulled his attention from the arm and he twisted eagerly in the bed to face Omega.

“Mmm awake,” Omega yawned, blinking rapidly as she jerked upright in the chair. “Wha’d I miss, I… Tech!”

Tech gave her a small smile and a nod. “Hello, Omega.”

“How are you now?” She asked in a voice full of concern, practically tripping over herself to cross the room to his bedside. “Are you still hurting or is it better?”

“My pain levels have decreased significantly.”

“How’s the arm?”

“It will suffice. It merely needs some modifications to achieve maximum functionality. Nothing I cannot handle.”

“How’s your head?”

“I-”

“Slow down there, Omega,” Echo said soothingly. “Let’s not overwhelm him just yet.”

Omega nodded curtly and met Tech’s eyes. “Sorry.”

“No apology is needed,” Tech said wryly. “It is natural to be curious…”

But he trailed off as he spoke the words. Even for a dream, that was certainly not an approved sentiment. Then again, neither was cohorting with rebel insurgents, or wishing to postpone its own decommissioning. Tech’s brow furrowed in thought.

“I’m glad you still feel that way,” Echo said with just a hint of suspicion. “I… We… Do need to ask you a few, uh… Sensitive questions. We can take it slow, as long as you answer honestly.”

Tech hesitated a moment, but nodded.

“Alright,” Echo said uncomfortably. “We’re really glad to have you back, vod, but… You were clearly sent by the Empire to stop us. Probably to kill us. Including Omega,” Echo gestured to the girl with his scomp. “We need to know why.”

“And you can tell us, Tech,” Omega said earnestly. “It’s okay. We won’t judge you, and we aren’t going to let them hurt you anymore.”

Tech nodded cooperatively. There wasn’t any harm in telling them, considering none of this was even real, though he knew better to believe Omega’s promise that somehow these figments of his imagination could save him. “My orders were to locate and eliminate the rebels completing a munitions transfer on Terova led by Hera Syndulla or be terminated in the attempt,” He recited. “I… Failed. On both counts, apparently.”

“Good,” Echo said, his eyes flashing before he visibly attempted to calm himself.

Shock flickered on Omega’s face. “Yeah… They should never have asked that of you Tech, that’s… That’s wrong. But we weren’t even transferring munitions,” She said crossly. “It was relief aid. Just rations, and most of it was for refugees…”

“That… is not what my intel reported,” Tech mused.

“Well. That’s not surprising,” Echo said. “So they ordered you to kill a bunch of relief workers or die trying?”

“That is what I said,” Tech stated. Although, he had to admit, at least to himself, that when Echo put it that way, it did sound… Disturbing. Calling it as such may be considered treason, but at the least, the mission had been an ineffective use of available resources. Not that it was CX-2’s place to decide that or have an opinion on the matter. Colonel Bragg had to have her reasons.

“Then what is stopping you from trying to finish the job now?” Echo asked darkly.

Tech blinked up at him a couple of times, then at Omega, who seemed to be holding her breath. He shook head. There was nothing for them to worry about, not here.

“The mission is a failure,” Tech repeated himself. “I will be decommissioned shortly.”

“You won’t,” Echo said firmly, but Tech shook his head.

“It is, sadly, standard procedure. My tracker cannot be removed. When they locate my body, if it is still… Functioning,” He chose the word carefully, it was important to be accurate when articulating these sorts of things to avoid unnecessary confusion, “I will be-”

“They won’t find you,” Echo snarled, his face contorting into something dark and vicious, giving Tech pause. “Hemlock may have designed it so removing that thing would kill you, but I made damn sure that the Empire can’t use it to find you anymore. You’re safe, Tech.” He let out a short breathy sigh and ran a hand over his bald head. When he spoke next his voice sounded softer and a little bit choked. “I told you, we’re not letting them take you back. Ever. And I’m sorry we ever let them get to you in the first place…”

Omega put a gentle hand on Echo’s back as he took a moment, covering his eyes with his hand. “Is… Is that all?” She asked hopefully. “The orders are gone so you’re just… you… again?”

Tech looked between the pair of them in confusion and concern. “I… Do not believe it is that simple… Or particularly relevant, here.”

“He’s not the only one they’ve turned against us, ‘Mega,” Echo muttered. “He’s right… It’s never that simple.”

“We’ll figure it out together then,” Omega said firmly. “You’re not alone anymore, Tech.”

That… would be nice.

But it wasn’t really true, was it?

“Tech?” Omega said his name again quietly.

Tech raised his eyes to meet hers. They were golden and sparkling and lifelike, just like in his malfunctions memories, but… That’s all this was. It was all just memories, fragments of his past manifesting themselves with whatever synapses were still firing in its brain and sending it these strange signals, creating the comfortable medical room and the advanced new prosthetic arm and dulling its pain. Omega and Echo acted so much like themselves because that’s how it knew them, that’s how he recognized them, but it wasn’t them.

They weren’t here. He was still alone. And he it shouldn’t care about such things anyways, it wasn’t allowed to, it wasn’t really alive and it would be dead soon anyways so what did any of this matter?!

The realization shouldn’t make a lump form in its throat or the heart monitor go off either. It squinted its eyes shut and shrank back into the bed as the noise pulsed maddeningly overhead, willing it all to just go away.

“Easy there Tech,” It heard Echo’s voice from overhead, and the same as last time it felt a hand slip into its own as if to draw it back, but a sharp jolt cut through his insides as he did. Whatever they were looking for in him, their effort was wasted. There was nothing of him for them to fight for. Everything it used to be back when it had a family and a purpose had been scooped out and shredded, there was just a hole in its psyche where the malfunctions that remained could reverberate off empty walls, taunting it, like they were now. Its actions proved as much. If that family even still lived after years of opposing the Empire, if they ever saw what their brother had truly become, they would want nothing to do with it. Those people had been good and kind. They had fought for each other, taken difficult stances against impossible odds, been loyal to one another, held up situations to a set of morals rather than simply to orders and taken action to protect the innocent and vulnerable from exploiters throughout the galaxy, even when they themselves had struggled to survive.

And CX-2… CX-2 hadn’t been that way for ten years.

It had been helping to build the very Empire that imprisoned and tested on the Clone Troopers who won it the war. It had hunted down insurgents of all kinds without question, using its ruthless efficiency, tactical cunning and fighting prowess to kill countless people. Whether or not they were innocent never mattered. It knew several had been civilians and that never made a difference. If Omega was to be believed, even its latest mission had resulted in destruction and possibly even death solely to stop people from delivering food and medical supplies to compromised populations. Such a thing couldn’t even be justified as a threat to the Empire, if it was true, and CX-2 hadn’t bothered to determine whether or not it was.

It killed all those clones on Teth.

It cut off Crosshair’s hand and taunted him as it did.

It even tried on its final mission to execute Omega!

“Talk to us, Tech,” Omega’s voice spoke soothingly overhead, making its stomach twist into knots. “Can you tell us what you need? We just need to know, we can help.”

“You can’t,” CX-2 choked out bitterly.

“We can, and we will. Whatever you need, we love you-”

“You’re not real!”

The words left its mouth and the tension in its chest crumbled like wet flimsi. It hurt to acknowledge as much, but pretending this was anything other than what it was would only hurt worse when reality came crashing back.

“You’re not real… None of this is real,” It repeated. “You can’t help me or save me so stop - Stop saying that you can…”

Whichever one of them was holding its hand tightened their grip and it opened its eyes. Both of them wore matching expressions of horror and shock, but… But of course they did… The people in its memories would be upset to hear it talk like that…

Echo nodded demurely, and Omega’s eyes shone with unshed tears, but she gulped hard and steeled her expression first. “So… what do you think is happening?” She asked, her voice wavering just a touch.

“All of this… It only exists in my mind. It’s a… A malfunction…”

“Uh huh,” She said, looking him fiercely in the eyes, though her voice somehow grew calmer. “So like a… A vision? A fantasy? dream?”

“It… It is more likely a dream…” It replied, wondering where this was going. A dream did sound more probable, given the circumstances. Its body ought to be unconscious back on Terova, whatever state it was in. Echo was giving Omega a miserable, quizzical look, but she didn’t break CX-2 Tech’s gaze.

“Okay. If it’s a dream, then… What happens when you wake up?”

Tech’s eyes went wide with fear. “I-”

“I don’t mean where are you going to wake up,” Omega said steadily. “Or what will happen to you. You don’t know if the Empire has found you yet. I mean what will you do? What choices will you make if you have the chance to make them?”

Tech opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. He… Wasn’t sure. It really depended on his circumstance, didn’t it? The question would be entirely useless if he woke up in the Empire’s clutches again, or if they decommissioned him before he woke up at all. He hadn’t considered the possibility that the Empire would delay looking for him, though, that he might have to choose how to proceed.

“I… Would return to Colonel Bragg,” It said slowly.

“Is that what you want to do?” Omega asked gently.

“No,” Tech responded without hesitation. “I want to stay here.”

His answer surprised him a bit, but then again, it was true. That was what he wanted, even if he wasn’t supposed to, even if it was impossible. Echo seemed slightly surprised as well, jerking his head up with wet cheeks and a hopeful glint in his eyes.

Omega gave him a small grin, but she alone seemed unfazed by the admission, and when she spoke her voice was still strong. “Do you want to see your brothers again, too?”

“I-” Tech started, but his voice caught in his throat as several questions tore through his mind like razors. He did, of course he did, that should be obvious, but - but were they still alive? Were they safe? Would his tracker attract the Empire to them if they were or had Echo really disabled it? After ten years would there even be room for an unexpected guest in their domicile, nonetheless after he blew up the ship that served as their last one? And did… Did they even want him back, after everything he had done?

“Tech,” Echo said, giving his hand another trembling squeeze. “They want to see you… They’ve missed you so badly. You… You have no idea.”

Tech took several breaths, parsing out everything he knew and turning those words over in his mind as if to analyze them. No matter which way he looked at them, though, it didn’t change his answer to Omega’s question. The heart monitor beeped a couple of times just before he opened his mouth to give his answer.

“I do want to see them,” He conceded, his eyes flickering between Omega and Echo in anticipation. “If that is true. That they… Want me back.”

There was something fragile in his voice when he said it, but Echo nodded warmly at him and lifted Tech’s hand in his own, touching both their knuckles to his cheek with a small sniffle. Omega’s face broke into a blinding smile, even as she finally blinked the tears from her eyes and hastily wiped them away with the edge of her sleeve.

“They do. I promise,” She said brightly. “I think the medics want to run just a couple more tests on you to make sure you’re healing well enough to travel, but as soon as that’s done, I can bring you home.”

---

Tech hadn’t been sure what to make of their conversation from before. Even as the medics returned to test his mobility, check his vitals, and attend to his surgical sites, the idea of going home seemed strangely surreal. If this were a dream it would make more sense to simply skip to that part rather than be subjected to these tests. For one awful moment, he had realized the possibility of his body being tested on in real life, all the cold pricks and sharp prods a mental manifestation of whatever final experiment Colonel Bragg was subjecting him to prior to his decommissioning. If that were the case he might not make it to his brothers again after all, he may run out of time, the world could go black and he may never see their faces!

The heart monitor went off again and Echo talked him through those particular fears, shooting impatient glares at the medics as Tech did his best to focus on Echo rather than his thoughts or all the unpleasant sensations, and suddenly it was over. Tech was vaguely aware of someone declaring him fit to be released, but Omega let out a cheer and helped him down from the bed, and then they were walking, Echo on one side and Omega on the other. The pair of them led him through ship halls that were far from imperial, passing people who Tech could too easily imagine having on the other end of his blaster. They reached the hangar and boarded a ship Tech knew he had just shot down, one that bore an uncanny resemblance to the Marauder in places, and yet it wasn’t. It couldn’t be… He had destroyed that ship ages ago, after dedicating so much of his own time and care into its maintenance and customization…

“Welcome back to the Havoc Zillo!” Omega said enthusiastically, gesturing around the inside of the ship with pride. “She’s fully functional again so don’t worry about a thing. The trip is a shorter one. Hope you still like varos flavored rations.”

Tech nodded, looking around the ship in a bit of a daze. A droid waddled towards him with frantic, familiar sounding gonk gonk’s.

“I know, Gonky!” Omega grinned. “He’s starting to do better, I’m excited too.”

The GNK droid stopped just short of colliding with Tech and leaned itself forward towards his hand. Tech obliged with a small, warm smile of his own, resting the mechanical arm on it’s oversized top, and it let out a series of soft gngngngngngnk’s.

“Aww. He remembers you,” Echo crooned.

“Droids memory banks are not like sentients. Their data recall is significantly-”

“Oh I know, Tech,” Echo chuckled. “It’s still sweet.”

Omega had skipped her way to the cockpit already and the outer door hissed shut behind them. For a moment Tech grasped at the nearest console to steady himself as she prepared for takeoff, but he barely felt the lurch as they left the ground and the ship left the hangar behind.

She had learned well, after all.

For a second, Tech gazed at the blur that was the back of her head down the hall, considering it. This was a dream, it had to be, but… This Omega was older than in his memories, no longer the naive adolescent female who chose to sit with them in the cafeteria and picked a food fight in their defense. Granted, she had grown beyond that well before his time with the Empire, but this was something else entirely. Even if what he was seeing now wasn’t real… He hoped that the young girl he knew back then had gotten the chance to grow into someone like this. His brothers deserved the chance to raise her this way, even if he never got to see it.

Then, his eyes slid just past her, to a place on the console where a blurry object sat, glinting against the black expanse of space in the viewport behind it.

“Those are yours,” Echo said softly at his side. “Do you want to see them?”

Tech wasn’t quite sure what to say, he couldn't even see what the object was with his poor quality eyesight, but the statement made curiosity flare up inside him, and he nodded. Echo got up and crossed over to the cockpit, whispering a couple of things to Omega before taking the little item in his one hand and returning.

Echo held them out, and Tech recognized them at once.

“My goggles,” Tech said in astoundment, taking them gingerly in his hands. He had seen them before in the memories but they really did feel familiar in his hands now, too. Both the lenses were shattered and one was missing several chunks, they wouldn’t function without significant repairs but… But they were his.

Nothing had been his in years. It shouldn’t matter, he knew it in his head, but somehow it did. This should be a dream but the familiarity of something that was his own in his hands just felt so real, and if this was real…

Through the gap in the hall Tech saw as the color outside the cockpit changed from pitch black to fuzzy streaks of blue as Omega put the ship into hyperspace, and his breath caught in his throat.

“You should know,” Echo said under his breath, “Even if you weren’t there… She never flew without you.”

He nodded at Echo’s words, unable to speak, and held the goggles close to his chest, just in case they were real.

Link to the full story written in full fledged domicile angst here: Implications Of Being Alive

Please scream in my comments or something, I live for validation I guess, it’s fine 🫠❤️

Oh and I guess I should do a tag list for this, maybe? If that’s wanted? Lemme know if I should and if you wanna be on it!!!

[losfacedevil]

Because You Loved Me // J.T.K

a/n~ I started this last month after coming off of a 6 day long migraine attack and somehow forgot it existed until this months 6 day migraine attack hit.  It’s just a bunch of fluff, and migraine pain related babble, idk.  Word Count ~ 3.4k

A stripe of marmalade orange danced across his face as the sun peaked through the blackout curtains; morning surfacing quicker than they would have liked. A deep sigh slipped past his lips as he arched his back, stretching the entirety of his body as she rolled over; hand reaching out to find him. 

“Morning, Sweet Girl.” His voice was soft; the rasp of sleep causing the corner of her lips to quirk up in a smirk. 

“Just five more minutes.” She whined, scooting over and resting her face in the crook of his neck welcoming the warmth of his arm as his hand found her side. He nodded, nuzzling his nose into the crown of her hair. She pulled her body almost fully on top of his, leg tangling between his as she pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. 

“Do you have to go to work today? Can’t you just stay home with me?” He couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped past his lips knowing full well what her answer would be. 

“My boss is coming, I can’t. Though I’d much rather stay right here warm and cozy with you.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she fought the wave of sleep that was trying to overcome her. 

“My boss is coming.” He mimicked her, hand finding purchase on her thigh. 

“Tell your boss where to stick it. Stay in bed with me, lovely.” A giggle slipped past her lips, the fluttering of her eyelashes tickling his neck sending a shiver down his spine. 

“I wish I could, but I have to get ready.” He groaned, rolling so her body was pinned beneath his, peppering her face with soft kisses. 

“Just five more minutes, right? That’s all we need.” His voice held a sultry tone as his lips connected with the soft spot beneath her ear. A whine escaped her, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his shoulder length hair. 

“Jake,please. Later, I promise.” He sighed as he let her guide his head backwards, using his hair for leverage before crashing his lips down onto hers. She whimpered into the kiss, body betraying her as her back arched into him. 

“Later, Jake, later.” She spoke between kisses, reaching out both hands to cup his cheeks. He pulled back, ceasing his attack as his bottom lip jutted out. 

“Lovey,” he whined, rolling his hips down into hers. She giggled, knew full well she was being a brat; but also knew she couldn’t be late for work. 

“Later, sweetness, scouts honor!” She giggled, placing one last kiss to his lips before he rolled off her, allowing her to get up. 

________________

It had felt like the longest day in the history of her career. Everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong, her boss was breathing down her neck for the silliest reasons and her stress level was sky high. Stepping out of the store into the cool winter air was like transporting into a different dimension, the cool air dancing around her body seemingly lowering her stress level as a familiar pang tugged at her right temple. A sigh slipped past her lips as she flipped the hood of her sweatshirt up on her head, covering her ears to hopefully ward off the headache she knew was going to take hold. 

~*~*~

Her fingers were pressed firmly to her temple, rubbing soothing circles into it as she jiggled her keys into the dead bolt to their shared apartment. She could hear the music before she even opened the door, knew he was sitting on the couch with his beloved guitar resting on his thigh strumming away. She couldn’t help the grimace that she knew her face displayed, screwing her eyes shut as she tossed her keys on the table beside the door. 

His strumming ceased as the door shut, scrambling to pull her sweatshirt over her head before he saw the look on her face. She heard him shift, placing his guitar down on the couch next to him as he turned to face her. 

“Hey sweet girl, how was your day?” Jake asked, rising to stand as he stretched his back. She kept her back to him as she hung her sweatshirt up, taking a deep breath as she fixed her face and willed the migraine away. He slunk up behind her, wrapping his arms around her midsection as he nuzzled his face in the junction where her neck met her shoulder. She let her head fall back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut at the welcome warmth of his body against hers. 

“It sucked, I feel like shit.” She mumbled, pulling a deep breath in through her nose as he placed a gentle kiss to the hollow below her ear. He reached down, intertwining his fingers with her and tugging gently. She let him turn her around, wrapping her arms around his waist as she buried her face in his chest. His arms came to rest around her shoulders, his nimble fingers tangling in the hair at the back of her head as he rubbed soothing circles into her scalp. He felt her shoulders fall, the stress of the day melting away as he unknowingly soothed a pain he didn’t know existed. 

“I’m sorry today was bad, is there anything I can do to help?” His voice was soft, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head as he pulled his fingers gently through her long locks; sending a shiver down her spine. She shrugged, arms tightening around him as he smoothed down the hair he had been playing with. 

“Maybe start dinner so I can rest my eyes?” Her voice cracked as her reserve broke, she hated asking for help even when she needed it the most. He nodded slightly, running his fingers through the hair by her temple, sending soothing tingles through the side of her head as he tucked her hair behind her ear. 

“Of course baby, do you have anything in mind?” She nodded, wincing as the movement shot pain through her head. 

“There’s a recipe card on the counter I wanted to try.” She mumbled, rubbing her nose against the exposed skin of his chest.

Jake broke away from the hug first, bringing his hands up to cup her cheeks, noting the slight pout on her lips. Leaning forward slightly he rested his forehead against hers, their eyes both fluttering shut. They stood that way for what seemed like an eternity, his fingers slowly putting pressure on her temples as he rubbed soothing circles into them. He took note of her reaction, the sigh of relief slipping past her lips confirming his suspicions as her arms fell a little further, more tension from the day escaping her. A smile pulled at the corner of his lips as he tilted his head slightly, slotting his nose perfectly next to hers and capturing her lips in a gentle kiss. Another sigh escaped her as her fingers slipped under the hem of the back of his shirt. 

“How about this, you go lay on the couch and I’ll take care of dinner? You won’t even have to lift a finger.” His voice was soft, not wanting to cause her anymore pain. She nodded slightly, lost in the feeling of his hands pulling back through her hair, scratching her scalp in a soothing manner. 

“Are you sure?” Her voice sounded strained, like she was fighting herself. Jake nodded, taking a step back to break her embrace and took her hand in his, leading her to the couch. Pulling the throw pillow off of the arm chair he turned at the waist, tossing the pillow onto the couch and scooping up his guitar in one swift move. 

“Of course I’m sure, now sit.”

She let herself fall onto the couch, kicking off the crocs that still hugged her feet as she pulled her legs up underneath her. He placed his guitar down gently, leaning it up against the arm chair holding his hands out in front of is as if telling it to stay put and not fall over. A sigh slipped past Jakes lips as he turned back to her, her arm thrown over her eyes to block the light from seeping past her eyelids. He took a few steps towards the kitchen, turning back to ruffle her hair and scratch at her scalp once more before making his way into the kitchen. 

~*~*~

“Ah, fuck.” 

He jumped backwards as the plate he had teetered precariously on the edge of the sink slipped, crashing to the ground and shattering into a hundred pieces. He sighed, feet glued to the spot he was standing in as he assessed the damaged, shards of glass scattered all across the kitchen floor. Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth he reached up, scratching the back of his neck as he eyed the broom and dust pan halfway across the room. He ran a hand down his face, silently cursing himself for being so clumsy as his eyes snapped to the break in the wall leading to the living room. A sheepish smile played on his lips as he saw her leaning up against the door frame, arms crossed over her chest. 

“I’m so sorry, babe. Can you hand me the broom and dust pan please?” He asked, pointing in the direction of what he needed. She shook her head, snatching up the broom and dust pan, leaning the free standing dust pan up against the kitchen table before she started sweeping. 

“I got it, just finish what you were doing.” She mumbled, shooting him a meaningful smile before he turned back to the counter to continue putting their left overs away. 

She sighed as she grabbed for the stand up dust pan that sat behind her, the broom resting in her left hand. She turned her body and in one swift movement her grip on the broom faltered causing the handle of the broom to whack into her lip. A soft gasp escaped her as his eyes snapped to her having seen the broom snap in her direction in his peripheral vision.

“Oww.” She whined, reaching up to cup her jaw in her palm. A soft chuckle escaped him, picking the broom up off of the floor, sweeping the remnants of the broken plate into the dustpan. 

“How do you manage to do these things?” Another chuckle escaped him as his gaze met hers, the smile slipping off his face almost instantly. 

Her eyes were wide, tears threatening to spill over her lids as she placed her finger inside her bottom lip, checking for broken skin and blood. She pushed her bottom lip out in a pout as she brought her right hand up, resting it over her right eye as her head throbbed. His expression matched hers, stepping forward he wrapped her in his arms, bringing his hand up to rub the side of her head soothingly. 

“I’m sorry, sweet girl. I didn’t mean to laugh.”  She shrugged her shoulders, wrapping her arms around his midsection as she buried her face as far as she could into his chest. 

“It’s okay, you can laugh at my misfortune.” He chuckled, shaking his head before pressing a kiss into the crown of her head. 

“Stop it, you know if you didn’t have a headache you’d be giggling at that too.” 

For the first time that night a smile spread across her face as a soft giggle escaped her, nodding in agreement to his statement. She pulled her head back, wincing as the fluorescent kitchen light shot a lightening bolt of pain through her temple. 

“Yeah, I’d probably be laughing my ass off if my head didn’t feel like it was going to split.” She lifted up on her toes, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. He smiled down at her, peppering kisses over her cheeks and nose as his hand continued to rub soothing circles into her scalp. 

“Go get comfy and lay down, I’ll be there in a second.” He cooed, capturing her lips in a soft kiss before pulling back. 

With a slight nod of her head she turned on her heel, slowly making her way to their shared bedroom. She welcomed the darkness of the room, opting to change into her pajamas and climb into bed in the dark; knowing full well he would be flipping on the bedside lap as soon as he came in. 

The soft pad of his bare feet caused her to stir, her eyes fluttering open and adjusting to the darkness, making out his silhouette as he stepped over the threshold. He instinctively reached for the light switch, going to flip on the overhead light as a soft whine slipped past her lips. 

“Not the big light, please.” She whispered, throwing the pillow over her eyes in case he didn’t hear her. A mumbled ‘sorry’ slipped past his lips as he pulled out his phone, using the soft illumination of the screen to see where he was going. He made quick work of getting ready for bed,

ridding himself of his pants as he plugged his phone in; tripping over his own feet as he tried to kick his jeans to the side and landing on the bed causing her head to jolt against the pillow. 

“That’s what I get for trying to keep you comfortable.” He grumbled, reaching down to tug the jeans off of his foot and toss them to the side. A sigh slipped past her lips as she sat up, fixing her mountain of pillows while he swung his legs up into the bed, laying back against the headboard and getting comfortable. 

“It’s okay.” 

Jake held his arm out to her, jerking his head to the side in a silent question. She leaned into him, nuzzling her face into his neck, breathing in a scent that was unmistakably him. He sighed as he let his hand tangle in her hair once more, knowing the only thing she’d be searching for was his fingers dancing across her scalp as she let sleep overtake her. A sigh slipped past her lips as she tossed her arm over his midsection and wiggled her ankle underneath his as her leg lay across his. 

“Yknow I appreciate everything you do for me right?” She mumbled, her tone becoming deeper as sleep threatened to overtake her. He nodded, turning his head slightly and pressing soft kisses against her forehead. 

“I know, sweet girl. Now get some sleep so your head feels better.” He chuckled, never ceasing the soft circles he was rubbing against the side of her head. Her fingers danced lazily over his side, sending shivers up his spine. 

“I love you.” She mumbled, tipping her head slightly and pressing a soft kiss into his jawline. 

“I love you too. Now, shhh.” He reached over with his free hand, pressing his index finger against her lips to silence her. She couldn’t help but giggle, knew he meant well. 

She nuzzled her face farther into the junction of his neck, breathing a sigh of relief to finally be in bed wrapped in his arms. Jakes nimble fingers continued to dance over her scalp, alternating between rubbing circles into her skin and gently threading her hair through his fingers until her breathing became shallow and even, indicating to him that she had finally fallen asleep. He pressed one more kiss to her forehead as he shifted downwards, resting his chin against the crown of her head and willing sleep to envelope him. 

~*~*

She woke with a start, bolting upright in bed as a lightening bolt of pain shot through her head. Her stomach lurched, a wave of nausea crashing over her as she tossed back the covers and bolted from the bed. Her sudden movement startling Jake awake as the bathroom door slammed shut. A groan slipped past his lips as he cracked his eyes open, glancing at the clock on the bedside table. 

3:25 a.m

“Babe? What’s going on?” He croaked, sitting up in bed as he heard the shower turn on. He stood from the bed, a sigh slipping past his lips as realization hit him. Bare feet padding down the hall was for only noise that could be heard over the shower running. A few gentle knocks delivered to the bathroom door before he turned the knob and gently pushed the door open. 

She sat on the floor in front of the toilet, knees pulled up to her chest as she held her fist against her mouth; silently willing the nausea away. Her eyes were screwed shut, anxiety etched in the lines around her eyes as he turned off the shower, sinking to his knees behind her. 

Gentle hands pulled her hair backwards over her shoulders, gathering it all in one of his hands as he ran his other through it, gently detangling it. A shiver danced up her spine causing her stomach to lurch once more. She shook her head lightly, swallowing thickly past the lump that was forming in her throat, her mouth beginning to water incessantly. 

“Are you okay?” His voice a gentle rasp against the otherwise silence of the night. She shook her head, trying to get her mind to shift its focus to his fingers trailing through her hair. 

“Your head still?” She nodded slightly, the movement being just enough to trigger her stomach to turn once more. A cough bubbled up her throat as she lunged forward, hands slamming down on each side of the toilet as her stomach emptied its contents into the bowl. A soft sigh slipped past Jakes lips as he scooted forward, rubbing his free hand up and down her back. 

“It’s alright, sweet girl.” He cooed, hand slipping under the hem of her sleep shirt as she sat back, reaching for something to wipe her mouth with. Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks as she leaned back into him, head resting against his shoulder. He pressed soft kisses into her temple, reaching the hand placed on her back around her, resting it on her stomach. 

“I’m sorry.” She croaked out, pulling a deep breath through her nose as her eyes fluttered shut; willing her heart to stop pounding in her chest. His brows furrowed, shooting her a confused glance out of his peripheral vision. 

“For getting sick?” He asked, fingers dancing lightly over her stomach, the skin sticky with perspiration. She nodded, the tense muscles of her stomach finally relaxing as the nausea subsided. 

“It’s so gross, I hate when you have to witness it.” She mumbled, finally relaxing every tense muscle in her body. He chuckled, nuzzling his nose against her cheek. 

“I mean, you’re not wrong it is gross. But love makes you do things you typically wouldn’t.” He shrugged, slipping his hand out from under her shirt to brush back the hairs that fell in her face. 

“Aww you love me? Even with vomit breath?” A genuine laugh slipped past her lips as she pulled away from him, moving to pull herself into a standing position. 

“Even with vomit breath.” He chuckled, cupping her elbows in his hands and pulling her up with him as he stood. 

She spun where she stood, wrapping her arms around his midsection as she rested her head on his chest. He was stunned for a second, arms held out at his sides as he glanced down at her before slowing snaking his arms around her shoulders. Her grip on him tightened, burying her face further into the soft material of his shirt. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss into the crown of her head.

“You really needed a hug, huh?” He cooed, reaching up to cradle the back of her head in his hand. She shook her head lightly, a soft sigh slipping past her lips as his nails scratched gently at her scalp. 

“No, I really needed you. It’s just, you make everything bearable and I don’t think I could do this without you anymore. No one’s ever loved on me enough to help me through an intense migraine before. You don’t just tell me it’s all in my head.” She mumbled, tilting her head back so her chin was resting on his chest. 

“Well it is all in your head, no?” A soft smile spread across his lips as her jaw dropped open, feigning shock. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Brush your teeth and come back to bed, vomit breath.” She shook her head, pressing her hands to her chest as she pushed him backwards towards their room. 

_________ Taglist: @jordierama​