#and fives LIKES to confuse them just to see them sweat. people who know him longer will see his bs at first glance tho

[rexsterss]

Success! Both of your husbands now love each other.

[inkspiredwriting]

The Diner of Destiny

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I hope it won't be long before I can post proper Five x Y/n stories again. Before the whole mess with season 4, I wanted to post a story of y/n having a girls day with Alisson, Sloane and Lila, and then five picking her up later and seeing what a mess they made. But now I'm honest, I don't want Lila and Five together in a story anymore xD I know it's stupid but I can't change it

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6, angst

Five stepped out of the shadows, his sharp eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. He had been here before, but something felt different this time. The station seemed to pulse with an energy he couldn’t quite place, pulling him toward a small, unassuming diner that he had never noticed before.

As he pushed open the door, a small bell chimed, and the dimly lit interior came into view. Its walls adorned with old photographs and clocks that tick out of sync. But what caught his attention most were the people inside.

It wasn’t just any group of people. They were him—Fives, from various timelines and realities. Each of them wore a different expression, ranging from annoyance to outright anger.

One of them, stepped forward, his eyes narrowing at Five. “You finally made it,” he said, his voice laced with bitterness.

Five frowned, his mind racing to understand what was happening. “What is this? Why are we all here?”

“You tell us,” The other Five shot back. “We’ve been waiting for you to show up and face the mess you’ve made.”

“The mess I’ve made?” Five repeated, confusion giving way to irritation. “What are you talking about?”

Another Five, one with a more disheveled appearance, chimed in, “You had one job—find y/n. She was supposed to be your anchor, the one to keep all of us stable across the Timelines. But instead, you got distracted.”

Five’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of y/n. He had never heard that name, and yet it felt like a punch to the gut. “What do you mean, ‘distracted’?”

The other Five crossed his arms, his glare intensifying. “Lila. You got involved with Lila, and that was never supposed to happen. You were supposed to fall in love with y/n in the greenhouse. She was the one meant for you, for all of us.”

Five’s breath caught in his throat. The greenhouse. He remembered it clearly—throwing strawberries, the laughter, the kisses. But it wasn’t y/n he was with. It was Lila. And suddenly, it all made sense.

The other Fives began to murmur, their voices filled with resentment. “We all felt it,” one of them said. “The moment you chose Lila over Y/n, we all felt the shift. She started to fade from our lives.”

Brisket Five added, “And without her, everything is falling apart. Our timelines are unraveling because you didn’t stick to what was meant to be.”

Five’s mind reeled. He had always prided himself on making the hard choices, on doing what needed to be done to keep the timeline intact. But now, he realized he had made a grave mistake. Y/n was supposed to be his anchor, the one constant in the chaotic sea of timelines. But by choosing Lila, he had erased her from existence, not just in his life, but in every Five’s life.

“Why isn’t she here?” Five demanded, his voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “Why can’t we find her?”

The other Five’s expression softened, though the anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface. “Because you erased her, you idiot. The moment you chose Lila, you erased y/n from all of our lives. The woman who was supposed to keep us grounded, to hold us together—gone. And now, we’re all suffering for it.”

Five felt a cold sweat break out on his skin. He had made a choice that he couldn’t take back, and now it was costing him—and every version of himself—everything. The weight of his actions pressed down on him, suffocating him with guilt.

“What do I do?” he whispered, almost to himself. “How do I fix this?”

The Five opposite from him sighed, his anger giving way to something more like pity. “That’s the problem. We don’t know if it can be fixed. Y/n was our everything, the one person who could make us feel human, no matter what timeline we were in. Without her… we’re lost.”

The room fell into a heavy silence, each Five contemplating the enormity of the situation. Five’s mind raced, trying to think of a solution, a way to bring y/n back. But every thought was met with the same bleak realization: he had broken something that might never be repaired.

Finally, Brisket Five spoke again, his voice low and resigned. “You can try to find her. But the truth is, we don’t even know where to start. You’ve changed the course of all our lives, and now… now we’re all paying the price.”

Five swallowed hard, his chest tightening with the weight of his guilt. He had always been the one to take control, to find a way out of impossible situations. But this time, he wasn’t sure if there was a way out. The woman who was supposed to be his guiding light, his North Star, was gone. And it was his fault.

The diner fell into a heavy silence, the weight of what had been lost hanging in the air like a shroud. The other Fives watched him, their anger slowly turning to resignation. They knew, as well as he did, that there was no fixing this. Y/n was gone, and with her, the stability and hope they had all desperately needed.

And as he left the diner, the weight of his actions bore down on him like a heavy burden, one that he wasn’t sure he could ever shake.

[benevolentbones]

jealous much? | spencer reid x reader

warnings: !! violent behaviour towards someone, bar fight, alcohol consumption and attempted drink spiking, swearing !! 15+ gender neutral reader

word count: 1.5k

summary: the team goes out to bar, and you bring a date with you..

to say spencer was mad was an understatement. his blood was practically boiling. his jaw tightened as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. his sights were set dead ahead, on your form.

after a long case the team had decided the best way to celebrate would be going out to the bar for a few drinks, garcia’s suggestion of course.

this wasn’t an unusual occurrence, the team would often go out together whether it was for dinner or just drinks, but what shocked everyone was when you showed up with a date.

“this is simon, hope you don’t mind that i brought him along” you had mused, when you had arrived to meet the team at the local bar they frequented.

the taller man was probably ten years older than you, his hair was blond and slicked back, and he had an arm slinked around your waist.

the team stood around the bar, some sets of eyes flickering from you to spencer, who stood glaring at the man beside you.

it wasn’t much of a secret that spencer reid had feelings for you, he’s had a thing for you ever since you joined the team over a year ago, and as profilers it wasn’t hard for the rest of the team to pick up on his crush.

what shocked everyone was the fact that they thought you also had feelings for spencer.

“yeah- no problem, im emily nice to meet you.” the dark haired woman smiled.

“i need a drink.” spencer muttered under his breath, turning to the bartender before he said something rude.

and that brings us to right now.

the team had been in the bar for an hour or so, a few rounds of shots had been given out and the majority of the team were on the dance floor. all aside from spencer and derek.

spencer could not take his eyes off of you for the life of him, and he felt physically sick at the sight.

emily, jj and penelope were dancing along side you as they usually did, and then there was your date, simon, who was glued to your form.

spencer hated the sight, every movement and touch threatened to spill up the four beers he had downed in the hour he was there.

“you good man?” derek leant against the bar, his voice laced with concern.

spencer took another swig of his beer, breaking his eye contact on you to look morgan in the face.

“i don’t know what they see in him, he’s fucking pathetic.” he mumbled out before turning back his attention on you.

the music blared over the speakers, the dance floor was covered in a crowd of people as you swayed your hips to the music, arms raised above your head. your date, in close proximity eyeing you up.

“jealous much?” morgan sipped at his glass of whiskey.

“what do you mean.” spencer’s body stiffened, he turned on his bar stool to face derek.

“man, it’s obvious you like them. why don’t you just say something.”

“i can’t just- they don’t like me like that.” spencer was growing increasingly frustrated.

“mm that’s not what they told me..” derek trailed off, downing the rest of his drink and heading off to the dance floor before spencer could get another word in.

this left the genius in a state of confusion, what had you said to derek? spencer turned back to his original position to people watch, scanning the crowd for you. but you were nowhere to be found.

“one coke please.” you shouted over the music to the bartender, now stood right next to spencer. and of course, simon was at your side.

“you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself, spence.” you turned to him.

your hair was unruly, unlike how you usually kept it. there was a small sheen of sweat covering your skin, from your forty five minutes of straight dancing, the flickering lights causing it to glow.

“i’m just tired, that’s all y/n.” he mumbled back, barely audible over justin timblerlakes ‘sexy back’ that had begun playing.

you frowned slightly, your brows creasing as the bartender handed you your drink. you took a small sip, setting it down on the bar counter.

“well i hope you feel better soon.” you gave spencer’s bicep a reassuring squeeze. i’d feel better if you left with me he thought

then you turned to simon, who was standing slightly agitated at your lack of attention.

“would you watch my drink? i’m just going to go to the bathroom.” you smiled as he nodded, running off in the direction of the toilets.

spencer avoided eye contact, staring back into the dance floor to see garcia practically grinding against morgan. what a sight.

from the corner of his vision, spencer could see simon shuffle awkwardly, before dumping a powdery substance into your drink, stirring it with your straw.

immediately he saw red, leaping out of his seat.

“what the fuck did you just do?” he yelled, his voice an octave lower than usual.

simon fidgeted, a shocked expression on his average features, not expecting the sudden outburst.

“n-nothing man- i think you’ve had too much to drink.” he tried to play it off with a nervous chuckle but spencer was having none of it.

he whipped his arm around, picking up your glass of coke in one swooping motion and smashing it against the older males head.

the glass completely shattered, shards of glass and coke spilling all over the floor and the blond man who had now fallen to the floor.

this caught people’s attention, a group of girls to the right of spencer letting out a frightened scream.

“what the fuck?!” simon barked, bringing a hand to the side of his face that was now pouring blood.

spencer had now lunged at simon, grabbing the collar of his shirt with one hand and landing punch after punch to his already bloodied face.

the commotion had caught the rest of the team’s attention, derek had run over and practically yanked the younger man off of simon, who’s face was now bloodied and swollen.

“what the fuck reid?” derek shouted, earning a glare from spencer.

“he fucking tried to spike y/n.”

you had come back from the bathroom, not expecting the sight in front of you. you gasped, covering your mouth with your hand, you eyes darting to spencer.

the brunette pulled away from derek’s hold, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his long hair hung over his face as he used a bloodied hand to push it away. his hard gaze met with yours, his hazel eyes immediately softening.

“get the fuck out.” the bartender yelled out, alerting the bouncers.

derek locked eyes with you, giving you a knowing look and you nodded. you grabbed spencer and ushered him out of the bar leaving derek to clean up the mess that was your date on the ground.

once you left the bar, the cold air hit you like a truck causing a shiver to escape your lips. spencer sat against the curb, resting his hands on his knees, avoiding your gaze.

“spence, what was that?” you questioned, a slight wobble to your voice.

“he’s a piece of shit, y/n.” he mumbled out, anger laced in his tone, his eyes locked on the ground.

you let out a frustrated sigh, noticing spencer’s busted knuckles, blood dripping from his hands. you knelt down in front of him, causing his eyes to dart up and meet yours.

“please, spence.” you reached out to cup his cheek.

“i couldn’t stand to see him with you, holding you- and on top of it all- he tried to spike you- i just couldn’t-“ he breathed out, inhaling through his nose as his face settled into your hand.

you felt both sick and relieved at the same time. you didn’t even like simon, he wasn’t who you wanted at all.

“oh spencer..”

“i couldn’t let him- i just snapped. i’m sorry.” he mumbled out, trying to avert his eyes.

“thank you.” you began, catching him off guard. “for doing all that, for me.”

“i- of course i would, i’d do anything for you.” his eyes flickered over your features, over your soft lips, back to your doe eyes.

you didn’t hesitate to press your lips against his, almost knocking him over. he immediately kissed back, wrapping his bloodied hands around your waist trying his best not to stain your shirt.

you ran your hands through his dark locks, feeling the heat from his cheeks against yours, curling your fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck.

you pulled away, a breathy gasp leaving your lips, pressing your forehead against his. he breathed out, resting his hands on your hips.

“y/n…” he spoke softly, swallowing hard.

“let me take you home, let’s clean up your hands okay?” you suggested, he nodded against your forehead before you pulled away, standing back on your feet.

you helped him up, wrapping your arm around his to avoid hurting his hands further.

“i really wanted that coke.” you pouted as you walked the taller man to your car, a chuckle escaping his lips and you shuffled side by side.

[xoxoladyaz]

Deep down, Steve knows that it's only a matter of time until he gets caught.

It feels like he's gone through the five stages of grief, like, twenty times. He can't count how many hours he's spent rationalizing it: what Eddie doesn't know won't hurt him, this is normal, people do it all the time, and besides, Eddie would feel completely betrayed if he knew and their relationship is so new that it's just not worth the risk. The absolute last thing he wants is to upset Eddie and this will just make him upset so really, Steve is doing the honorable thing by just not telling him, by pretending that he's not hiding anything, that everything is fine.

But it's not Eddie that catches him; hell, it isn't even someone in the Party; it's Jeff, Eddie's friend/Hellfire Club member/Corroded Coffin bandmate who shows up too early for D&D at Steve's one day and sees something he shouldn't have.

"This isn't what it looks like."

Jeff walks into the kitchen and frowns, like he's confused by what he's seeing and why Steve is so anxious, why he's sweating like he's just run a marathon. "It looks like you're blending a bunch of veggies together in a blender."

Shit. "Okay, it's exactly what it looks like."

Jeff still looks confused. "And this is a big deal because - "

"Because I haven't told Eddie that the 'special pasta sauce' that I've been using the last three months whenever we have spaghetti and meatballs is actually entirely made of, like, ten different kinds of vegetables," Steve rushes out, and Jeff's face smoothes in understanding.

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. The dude has a weird vendetta against veggies."

Steve groans, slumping in relief. "Tell me about it. Do you know how hard it is to hide veggies in every single meal that I make for him? Because if I don't, then he's never going to eat them, and I'm worried about his health enough as it is."

Jeff nods. "It's the smoking, right?"

"The smoking, and the drinking, and I know he's sneaking out to smoke with Jon and Argyle, but he doesn't exercise and he only eats highly processed cereal with loads of sugar and I just don't want him to have a heart attack before the age of forty!"

"Hey, hey, Steve, man, your secret's safe with me." Jeff holds his hands up in supplication. "And for the record, I'm on your side. The dude is like a feral raccoon."

"I know," Steve sighs. "But he's my feral raccoon."

That makes Jeff start laughing. "If it makes you feel any better, my mom and I have been doing the same thing for years now. If you want, we could exchange recipes sometime."

"Really?" Steve perks up and now, now he's excited. "That would be great!"

"Sick. Need some help with the meatballs?"

"Please!"

And that is how Eddie and Gareth and Phil and Dustin and Mike and Lucas and Erica and Will find them later, chatting and laughing while Steve tosses his homemade noodles into his now-simmering pasta sauce, Jeff sitting on the kitchen island and drinking a beer.

This time, it's Jeff who looks like he's seen a ghost. "This isn't what it looks like."

"Oh?" Eddie asks, and his voice is totally controlled, which means that Jeff is screwed. "So you're not hanging out with my boyfriend and making him do that cute little blushy giggle that is my cute blushy giggle?"

"Eddie!" Steve scolds, but it's too late, Jeff knows his fate is sealed.

"Okay, it's exactly what it looks like."

(Jeff's rogue is caught in the blast zone when Dustin's ranger kills a large acid toad. Still, he can't feel too mad when he sees Eddie smirk and then lick the veggie sauce out of his pasta bowl.)

[izzabela]

Can you write about the reader having feelings for Syzoth but she thinks that he has feelings for Ashra but everyone else drops hints that Syzoth has feelings for the reader but the reader doesn't get the hints until Syzoth decides to come clean with his feelings for the reader?

As Subtle As A Rock - Syzoth x fem!reader (5+1 fic)

in which there are five times someone tells you that Syzoth likes you, and one time where you believe it

a/n: finally, some good fucking food (i'm kidding i love all the requests i get, i just don't often see syzoth content)

ship[s]: syzoth x fem!reader

warning(s): tsundere reader, y/n used, post-kanon story

1 - Kenshi Takahashi

You sigh heavily as you watch Syzoth use his tail to trip the monks that were ambushing him. He's training for his exam to become an initiate for the Wu Shi, and he was doing everything he could to stay ready.

He looked so good taking down the rest of the orange-clad men. His muscles flexed when he knocked Kung Lao to the ground, and the sweat glistened on his skin as he turned to block a flying head-butt from Raiden.

You had already finished your training for the day, a one-on-one with Liu Kang to assess your skills to see if you were ready to move on.

As you watch Syzoth spar, he spots you from his place and waves, and you give a weak wave back.

For some reason, he gets more serious in his sparring. He's more precise, his hits perfectly taking monks down left and right.

He's also puffing his chest out when he gets them down, like a video game character taunting.

As you watch him, a voice surprises you.

"You know, he really likes you," Kenshi tells you as his chin rests in his palm. He's copying your stance as you look between him and Syzoth in shock.

You turn to him with a flushed face and wave your hands like a madman. Despite the red bandana that was over his eyes, you can tell he's giving you the "look".

"Ah! No! Not possible! I mean...." you stutter, unable to find the words as Syzoth keeps his appearances up as he fights.

Kenshi has his jaw agape, slapping his forehead with his hand before he drags it down and groans in frustration.

One out of five people, surely another person could prove it, right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

2 - Raiden

You and Raiden stare at the pile of insects in confusion and worry.

You see, Syzoth had dropped you loads of food in front of your bedroom because you had gotten a bit sick.

Raiden was responsible in overseeing you as you regained your strength.

He was rounding the corner because he had brought your medicine from the infirmary, but the smell that was coming from your room....

Huge, fat(?), and dead bugs laid in front of your door. And Raiden saw Syzoth splaying the deceased insects in a fashionable(???) manner.

He knocked on your door and ran away, which leads to the situation now.

"Raiden... I am not a frog..." you mumble weakly as you cough.

Raiden chuckles and shakes his head, "Actually, it was Syzoth who dropped it off."

Your face warms with love at the thought of your crush giving you such care.

"He must like you a lot, you know," Raiden points out. "I mean, I am unsure of how Zaterran's court but-"

You swipe the medicine out of Raiden's hands and go on a (strangely) energetic ramble about how he could not like you, and how he's just being nice, and blah blah blah.

As Raiden gets the door shut on his face, he can still hear you go on about it. Shaking his head, he looks down at the bugs.

"Ah, what to do..."

Kenshi was right, you did have a hard time accepting things.

Then again, third time's a charm right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

3 - Johnny Cage

There's stupid, then there's just fools.

Johnny is classified as stupid, but even he knows a fool when he sees one.

And unfortunately, you were on his radar.

Johnny watches with a slacked jaw as Syzoth gifts you a pile of pretty rocks.

He's watching dumbly as Syzoth explains each rock, geode, and stone that he got from his latest travel as emissary.

"This is a rare gem native to the mines north of Satauri," Syzoth explains.

You hold the rocks with sparkling eyes, listening to every fact intently. You guys are at it for a couple of hours, sitting on the field of the academy before more lessons.

Finally, Syzoth leaves after a monk calls after him for some other chores.

You wave goodbye, and you smile bashfully at the pile of rocks and stones Syzoth gifted you.

Johnny surprises you from behind.

"Wow, he sure does like ya," Johnny says, swishing around you to swipe a rock to take a closer look.

"Not even Syzoth gave me thanks after I shot a movie after him!" Johnny whines, rambling about how much money went into the movie (he legit broke the budget tenfold).

You shake your head vehemently, "Absolutely not! Hedoesn'tevenseemelikethat...."

Johnny mocks you with a hand puppet mimicking a mouth, "Blah blah blah, yap yap yap."

Still, as you deny the possibility that Syzoth indeed reciprocates your feelings, you hold the rocks close to your chest, all of the little things in your hand as your heart pounds in your rib cage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 - Kung Lao

You and Syzoth are basking under the warm sun that shines over the Academy- Syzoth on a rock and you on a blanket over the grass.

You guys are on a break from training and lessons today, so Syzoth decided to invite you to do his favorite past time- sunbathing.

And so here you two were, chatting quietly amongst one another about your lives, especially his. His life changed, from pure despair to one filled with hope and new opportunities.

One such opportunities being love, though the couldn't tell that to you.

Despite how well-kept his secret was, it was so obvious to Kung Lao. The way Syzoth's eyes lit up when you were around him, the way his tail wagged when he shifted halfway, the rocks (he heard from Johnny), the sparring (thanks Kenshi), and the bugs (kudos to Raiden).

Kung Lao watches from the distance, only swooping in when Syzoth leaves after he's gotten ample sunbathing.

You continue to lay there, skin practically glowing in blinding radiance. The sun was just... perfect.

Kung Lao walks from his nest of watching, surprising you with his shadow over your face.

"You know, not even Syzoth has invited me to sunbathe yet," he says, and you rub your eyes and blink to make out Kung Lao's visual.

"Oh, hey Lao!" you greet rubbing your eyes. "What are you talking about? Has he not sunbathed with you?"

Kung Lao sits beside you, shaking his head as he looks at you with waggling brows, "That must mean he really likes you, (y/n)~."

You shove his shoulder, "Don't be funny, kung Lao! He does not like me like that. And besides, he and Ashrah spend a lot of time together."

Kung Lao mentally rolls his eyes. By the elder gods, if only you knew what those two talked about.

"Just tell him how you feel!" Kung Lao ushers you. "What's the worst that could happen?"

You groan, shoving him off your blanket and rolling it up, before storming away grumbling about Syzoth.

Kung Lao scratches his head, watching you and your feelings walk away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

5 - Ashrah

Ashrah swung her kriss at the training dummy, yelling and grunting as she practiced her moves and wandered in her own mind.

She was in a bit of a pickle, you see.

For the last couple of days, she had been talking to Syzoth because he had asked her how to confess to someone. Poor girl, she was still grappling with her newfound emotions that came with freedom.

Still, with the help of the other men in the Academy: Kung Lao, Johnny, Kenshi, and Raiden, she had been providing him with good advice and ways to get you to notice him.

However, everytime he came back after doing whatever she said, he reported back his fruitless attempts.

"She did not respond after I deposited the rocks," Syzoth noted once. Or, "She and I talked, but she fell asleep as I was tlaking as we were sunbathing..." as another report.

Ashrah sighs, stabbing the wooden dummy through its torso cleanly. You heard a little gasp behind you, and she leaves the sword stuck in the dummy as her eyes meet yours.

"G-good afternoon, Ashrah," you stuttered quietly, walking to another free dummy nearb

Ashrah watches you intently, smiling as you returned a rather slim one. Confused, as you were not returning her kind gesture.

Unintentionally pushing your buttons, she just asks you straightforward.

"Are you worried about Syzoth?" she blatantly asks, her posh voice ringing in your ears as you look over your shoulder with a glare.

You roll your eyes, "Not really something you should ask someone when the other is clearly vying for the same man as you." There's vevnom in your voice, and Ashrah frowns a bit as she gracefully removes her sword form the dummy.

Sheathing it, she continues, "I must let you know, it really is not like that." She approaches you, and you instinctively step back some. "Syzoth has been having a hard time telling you that he truly reciprocates your affections."

Your mood is soured completely, and you you cram the dummy back into the corner it belonged to.

"Syzoth likes you, not me Ashrah" you spat at her. "If you want friendship so bad, perhaps lying is not the best way to obtain it."

You stomp away, and Ashrah is both confused and sad over this attempt at making another friend- especially a woman.

And as your figure disappears within the Academy, your heart and gut wrenches at the games everyone has been playing with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

+1 - Syzoth

Syzoth had given up with advice from both Ashrah and friends. He loves them, don't get it twisted, but it has gotten him nowhere.

From dropping off bugs to your door, trying to impress you as he sparred, even inviting you to sunbathe (he is very particular about his vitamin d)- it has gotten his feelings nowhere.

Manning up, he picked some flowers from a nearby field, called Ashrah and Kenshi over, and practiced what he wanted to say.

Kenshi was the coach, Ashrah pretended to be you, and Syzoth was fumbling over his words.

"No, Syzoth," Kenshi gently scolds. "You have to tell her why you like her, not just 'I like you'."

Syzoth groans, "I will bite your heads off if I must repeat this one last time."

As the trio continues their practice, you're walking in the general direction as a monk had called for you for an audience with Liu Kang.

You can hear the voices, and you turn the corner to find Kenshi, Ashrah, and Syzoth- you couldn't find your heart, though, as you're so sure it dropped from the shock of this scene.

"Um, am I interrupting?" You say rather coldly. Kenshi and Ashrah are wide-eyed, and Kenshi immediately grabs Ashrah's wrist as they run off like kids.

Is this a romance novel? A fanfic? You couldn't help but roll your eyes as you thought of their childish antics.

"Ah, um, agh... How do I..." Syzoth is nervous as he fiddles with the flowers he picked for you. You look between them and his eyes.

"Are those for someone?" you point. "If you need help confessing to Ash-"

"No!" he cries. Your shock takes him aback, but he reigns himself in as he clears his throat. "No. They're, uh... for you?"

You look at him with a quirked brow, then soften up as you look at the flowers and the general area Kenshi and Ashrah fled to.

"But I thought-." Syzoth interrupts you.

"I sought the help of Ashrah and the others," he begins to explain. "They were giving me advice, on how one can tell someone how they feel- the human way."

You look at him, and he uses this silence to continue his words.

"Ashrah provided me with advice, I was doing my best to make my efforts known..." Syzoth itches his head shyly, walking closer to you as he uses his other hand to hold on yours.

"I guess this was my final 'hurrah', something Johnny taught me," Syzoth chuckles awkwardly.

You shake your head, "I thought everyone was playing mind games with me..."

Syzoth shakes his head, rubbing your hand as the other hand that scratched his head now caresses your face.

"Your heart is not something to be toyed with..." Syzoth whispered, moving your hair out of your face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sigh, i love syzoth

see yall in the next fic!

[starlightkun]

➠ word count: 4.6k ➠ warnings: cursing, vomiting, depictions of illness, hospital settings, etc. (but he gets better! i prommy!) ➠ genre: fluff, a touch of hurt/comfort, suggestive? (i mean they’re mentioned to shower together but it’s in a very tender caretaking sort of way, it's a ‘you cannot perform this task of hygiene and i love you and will assist you in performing this vital task’ sort of thing), established relationship, former hockey captain sungchan, chronically ill reader (chronic migraines), shortfic in the buzzer beater series (after 27JSC, before garbage goal) ➠ extra info: the title is directly lifted from the title of this academic article on pubmed that came up in some googling i was doing for this fic the reader in this has chronic migraines, which i have. when the reader’s migraines, experiences as a chronically ill person, and thoughts about being chronically ill are described, that is me writing directly from my own life. i am not generalizing the lives of all people with chronic migraines/chronic illnesses, but i am sending all my love to any readers out there living with a chronic illness, and here’s a reminder to go take your meds! ➠ author’s note: i did NOT expect this to turn into a literal series but these two have rlly captured my lil heart tbh. i’m obsessed with them. they’re in love. i’m not sorry and i will not pretend to be in order to be cute on the internet. anyway enjoy 🫶 ➠ series masterlist

The utter relief that you felt having Sungchan home again was a feeling unparalleled. Having him home, in his own clothes, in your bed, holding you and laughing at something stupid he’d just said but thought was the funniest thing ever—that was the most you’d ever loved someone, you decided.

Stirring slightly in the middle of the night, you were aware of being uncomfortable, hot, and sweaty under all your sheets, blankets, and boyfriend.

“Mmh,” you groaned, pushing at Sungchan, who was of course passed out on top of you like you were the mattress. “Channie, off. ‘m too hot.”

He readjusted slightly, but just grabbed you to pull you to his front like the cuddle monster he was. You were now acutely aware of your clothes sticking to your back and chest.

“No, let go.” You grabbed at his arms. “Come on, Channie, aren’t you hot too?”

He suddenly vaulted himself out of bed, throwing the sheets and blankets off of him in a mad dash towards the bathroom. You sat up in bed, blearily watching him in confusion until he kneeled down at the toilet and you finally put the pieces together, hurrying in after him and turning on the light on your way in.

He didn’t have any hair to hold back from his face as he emptied his stomach, so you mainly rubbed his back through his damp t-shirt. With the bathroom lights on, you were able to see that the front and back of his white shirt were entirely soaked with sweat, his face pink and sweat-sheened, and his hair stuck to his forehead. His whole body radiated with an unnatural heat as you sat beside him, coaching and comforting him through it as he gripped the toilet bowl with white knuckles.

When it seemed like he had gotten to a pause in his retching, you coaxed his head up away from the opening, then flushed it. Grabbing some toilet paper from the roll hanging next to you, you bundled up enough to wipe around his mouth and nose, then tossed that into the bowl as well as the water was still draining.

“We…” He stopped to cough, then spit into the toilet. “We ate the same stuff last night… Why aren’t you…”

“Baby, I don’t think this is food poisoning,” you replied, moving his hair off his forehead to press the back of your hand there. “I think you’re sick.”

“But my immune system is so good! I haven’t even gotten a cold in like five years! I got my flu shot two weeks ago!”

“I know, I was there holding your hand.”

His whining was cut off by more puking, and you continued to soothe him through it.

“Channie, you can’t send this.” You shook your head, reading over his email to his research head again.

“But I have to… to tell him why I can’t come in,” Sungchan reached for his phone from your hands.

“Baby, this is gibberish.” You held the phone away from his grabby hands so you could delete the nonsense email and exit out of the app before setting it on his nightstand. “You go back to sleep, I’ll call the lab for you, okay?”

He sighed, laying back down in bed and closing his eyes. “Okay… don’t take too long… miss you…”

“And he’s out,” you commented to yourself fondly.

It was quick work to look up the office line on the university’s website, and you took the call in the living room as he napped in your room. Hearing the click of it being picked up first, it was answered by an older-sounding, stern man.

“Yoon Taekyung.”

“Hi, Dr. Yoon, this is Y/L/N Y/N, I’m—”

“Jung Sungchan’s girlfriend.”

“Oh, yes, Jung Sungchan’s girlfriend.” You laughed nervously, caught off-guard. You’d never met Sungchan’s research head before.

“Jung talks about you a lot. I don’t stalk my PhD candidates online, in case you were wondering.”

“No, I wasn’t, but thank you for clarifying,” you chuckled. “Anyway, I’m sorry to bother you, but unfortunately Sungchan has a stomach bug and is not going to be able to come in for a few days. He had typed up his own email to you but when I proofread it… you could tell the fever was boiling his brain.”

“I would have appreciated the laugh,” Dr. Yoon said dryly. “We certainly don’t want Jung bringing any outside germs into the microbiology lab. Keep him home.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Dr. Yoon.”

Having already finished your master’s degree, you didn’t have any professors to email about missing class today. It was a Friday, and you weren’t scheduled to work all weekend, so you were free to stay home and take care of Sungchan.

Walking back into your bedroom, you stopped next to Sungchan’s side of the bed, pressing your hand to his forehead. He really was burning up.

His eyes fluttered open, and he mumbled something that sounded like your name.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here,” you reassured him, stroking his head. “Go back to sleep, I’m going to make you something to eat, okay?”

His eyes closed again, and you gave his head one last gentle pat.

Poking your head back into the bedroom some time later, you were pleasantly surprised to see Sungchan awake again, scrolling on his phone.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” You walked over, grabbing the thermometer off his nightstand.

“Mm… great,” he groaned, setting his phone down.

“Liar.” You held the thermometer out. “Open.”

He pouted up at you with the thermometer sticking out of his mouth as the two of you waited. It beeped, and you took it back, frowning as you read the display.

“I don’t like that…” You sighed, taking a picture of it with your phone. “I’m going to text your mom. How’s your tummy?”

“Fine…”

“You think you can eat? I made some food.”

“Sure, sure, yeah.”

“Okay, be right back, Channie.” You kissed his hair.

In the kitchen, you hurriedly opened your text conversation with Sungchan’s mom. She was a family medicine doctor, and you’d been updating her on how her son was doing throughout the day.

[you: attached image]

[you: his fever keeps going up, even after the meds he took this morning. no more puking so far]

As you spooned out small portions of dishes, loaded them up on a tray, and reheated a mug of some tea you’d prepared earlier, you continued texting back and forth with Dr. Jung.

[dr. jung: Give him another dose of the acetaminophen. If it keeps going up take him to urgent care]

[you: will do, thank you. he’s about to try to eat some lunch. wish us luck!]

[dr. jung: Good luck sweetheart]

Tucking your phone away, you grabbed the tray of food to take back in to Sungchan. He had pushed himself up against the headboard, letting you set the tray down on his lap. Putting the now steaming mug on the nightstand, you started pointing to everything.

“Ginger tea, and easy tummy foods. Some rice, soup, crackers, and for dessert—” You pulled out a small package from the pocket of your hoodie.

He gasped softly. “Chocolate biscuits…”

“Chocolate biscuits,” you confirmed, setting them on the tray table then stroked his hair gently. “I’m going to go clean up the kitchen then I’ll come sit with you. Holler if you need me before then, okay?”

He grabbed your hand before you could get too far, his skin burning hot against yours. “Hey. Thank you.”

“Anything for my Sungchannie,” you smiled, gently swinging your linked hands where they hung in the air. “Small bites, and don’t force anything down, okay? You’ll only throw it back up if you do that.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And how are you on water?” You picked up the water bottle on his nightstand with your free hand, shaking it. “Eh, half. I’ll refill it for you, too. Be back in a sec.”

After putting the leftovers away and refilling his water, you shook out a couple more tablets of acetaminophen and brought both of them back with you.

“Here.” You placed them on the table next to him. “Your mom says to take another dose, and if your fever keeps going up then we’ll have to take you to urgent care.”

He nodded, thankfully opting not to talk with food in his mouth. You scooted back into bed next to him, resting your head on his shoulder as he slowly picked at his food.

“Good food, baby, thank you,” he sniffled, taking a sip of his tea. “I mean, my nose is so stuffed up I can’t taste most of it, but it’s still good.”

You chuckled, patting his chest. “Thanks, Channie.”

“Are you sure you should be sitting so close to me? I don’t want to get you sick too.”

“We live together, I’m either going to get sick or I won’t. It’s not like I’m asking you to spit in my mouth or anything,” you scoffed.

“Yeah, right now.”

Before you could even make a retort, he suddenly careened forward in a fit of violent coughs, and you surged to first steady the tray table so he didn’t knock the liquids everywhere. After moving it off his legs and onto an unoccupied area of the mattress, you rested a hand on his back as he continued coughing, wincing sympathetically at how painful they sounded. Finally, he stopped coughing, and paused to catch his breath.

“Mm… I think you should keep your loogies to yourself for now, Channie,” you tutted. “Drink some water.”

Setting his water bottle back down, he blinked slowly. “Ugh… that hurt.”

“Do you want the food back? Or are you done?”

He shook his head. “I’m done. Don’t want anything coming back up.”

“I’ll put it in the fridge in case you get hungry later.”

You had just closed the fridge when you heard retching sounds from your bathroom.

It was almost two hours later before the two of you left the cold tile floor of your bathroom. There were impressions of the grout in your knees and your joints ached from the unforgiving, hard flooring. And it was only to get Sungchan to sit on the equally hard, cold, tile floor of the shower under a lukewarm stream of water—you were afraid of making it too hot with how high his fever already was, and he whimpered like the water was hurting him if it was too cold. With how much fever-sweating he’d been doing since the wee hours of the morning, you could only imagine how uncomfortable it was for him (you yourself still hadn’t had the chance to sneak in a quick shower since being awoken in sweat that morning either). Not even to mention just all the puke that the both of you had been around.

You knelt behind him to very gently work some shampoo through his hair, then tilted his chin up with your hand to direct his head back into the spray and rinse out the suds. You used your other hand to block his eyes from any stray shampoo that may accidentally run down into them. With his hair off his forehead, you could catch a glimpse of a light scar, from taking a puck directly to the face your senior year of college, soon after you started dating. You’d taken care of him then, warned him to be careful when washing his hair, and he’d joked about having you do it for him. You couldn’t help but run a finger over it lightly.

After finishing up washing his hair, you reached behind you to blindly fumble for the handle and turn the spray off. It was a bit dicey getting the two of you to stand up in the confined space with Sungchan’s less-than-optimal coordination at the moment, and you toweled the both of you off in the bathroom quickly.

Back in new clothes, you let him fall into bed as you appraised the nightstand. “Did you take the meds before you threw up? I don’t— Oh, there they are.”

You grabbed them from behind the water bottle, nudging Sungchan’s shoulder. “Baby, you can take a nap after you take these, okay? They’re going to help your fever.”

“Uh?” He squinted one eye open, then dropped his mouth open. You placed the tablets on his tongue, then held the straw up to his lips. He swallowed with minimal difficulty, then dropped his head back down to the pillow.

You crawled into bed too, curling up behind him and throwing an arm over his middle. Sungchan groaned and shifted in place.

“Are you warm?” You asked quietly. “I’ll scooch if you’re too warm.”

“No,” he whined, grabbing at the blankets and pulling them up higher. “Cold… ‘n everything hurts, baby. My head hurts, my throat hurts, my stomach hurts, my muscles hurt from throwing up so much. Everything hurts.”

“My Sungchannie.” You scooted in closer to him, burying your face in his neck. “I’m sorry… I wish it didn’t hurt, baby. I’m so sorry. I wish I could make it stop for you.”

“I’m going to take a nap, I think…” He sniffed.

“I think that’s a good idea.” You kissed his shoulder. “I’ll be right here when you wake up, baby boy.”

“That’s it, we’re going to the urgent care,” you declared with a shake of your head, looking at the most recent temperature readout on the thermometer. Up again.

Despite all of Sungchan’s grumbling about not being that sick, you still managed to get him into the car and to the doctor, keeping a wary eye on him as you took all of your turns very carefully and accelerated and braked as smoothly as possible so that he hopefully wouldn’t vomit all over your car interior as well. After staying in the waiting room for an agonizing amount of time, you two finally went back.

The doctor took one look at Sungchan’s vitals, and you explained just how many times he’d thrown up in less than twelve hours, before deciding to admit him.

You had been asked to step out of his room for the moment, and walked up and down the long hallway, continuing to update his mom.

[you: he just got admitted. doctor says he probably just needs fluids and something stronger to bring the fever down but wants to keep him overnight for observation]

[dr. jung: Who’s his attending?]

[you: dr. chen]

[dr. jung: Oh good. He’s good, our Sungchan’s in good hands. I’ll be by after clinic closes.]

[you: thanks, i’ll let him know you’re coming]

A nurse left Sungchan’s room then, and you perked up as the older man seemed to be walking towards you.

“I’m so sorry, miss, this is going to sound weird,” he began with a sheepish smile. “But has your husband been on TV?”

“Oh, uh, boyfriend…” You corrected him distractedly, way more focused on said boyfriend. “And uhm, not exactly. Why?”

“He just looks very familiar.”

You thought for a second, then suggested, “Do you like hockey?”

“Yes, my wife and I have season passes for the local university’s team’s home games.”

“Sungchan played for the Raptors a couple years ago.”

“Oh! I was wondering why the name was so familiar too…”

“Sorry, did you need something from me?”

“Yes, I need to put his IV in, uhm, but he’s asking for you…”

You nodded. “Yeah, he has a fear of needles. Shouldn’t that be in his chart or whatever somewhere?”

“We just have the records from the urgent care doctor who sent him up here, sorry,” the nurse admitted. “But I’ll make a note of it.”

Following the nurse in, you saw that Sungchan was all by himself, and had to bite your lip at the image of him already hooked up by wires to a bunch of other machines. He still smiled when he saw you, though.

“Hey, baby…” he held his hand out towards you, and you took it, giving it a squeeze.

“Hi. Heard you were asking for me.”

“Thought you might feel left out if I got a needlestick and you weren’t here.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite hobby, watching you get pricked over and over,” you replied sarcastically.

“Which arm?” The nurse asked.

“The right. He’s a lefty,” you answered immediately.

He looked between you and Sungchan for a moment.

“What she said,” Sungchan confirmed.

As the nurse prepared his arm for the IV, you distracted him on his other side.

“So, I was texting your mom in the hallway,” you told him. “She said she’s going to come by after the clinic closes. She also knows your attending, says you’re in good hands, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Oh, that’s good.” He suddenly squeezed your hand tight.

You rushed to find another topic and keep talking, “Also, I have to tell you about this new book I was reading. Really, it was a collection of short stories, but you know how I am with those. God, it’s incredible. It’s like surrealism, and sort of psychological horror, and some of them toe in body horror, but also magical realism, but all of them sort of explore like womanhood and societal expectations of women and that kind of thing. They’re so fantastic. There��s one about a teenage girl who just starts eating birds one day. Like, live birds, the kind of birds you’d keep as a pet. Feathers and all. She’s not actually the POV character, though, you get to follow her dad as he tries to take in this change and adjust and acclimate to it as his otherwise normal teen daughter has to consume live birds while his estranged wife tries to convince him to just accept it and that it’s really not that bad. And obviously that can be a metaphor for how fathers—”

“Done.” The nurse announced. “Dinner’s in an hour, Mr. Jung. Buzz if you need anything before then.”

“I think you freaked him out with your ‘eating live birds and scaring your dad is a metaphor for being a teen girl’ story, baby,” Sungchan chuckled.

“But it is!” You defended yourself. “And it’s so good, really!”

“I’m sure it is.” He scooted over in the tiny bed to make a little bit of room, then patted the empty space he’d just created. “Want my girl to tell me all about it.”

You clambered up next to him, still with one foot hanging off the bed to let both of you fit, but just all too happy to be with him again.

Just a little while later, and the nurse was poking his head back into Sungchan’s room. Dr. Jung paused the funny story she had just been telling from her seat on the small recliner next to the bed, and all three of you looked over at the newcomer.

The nurse focused his apologetic eyes on you, “Miss, I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over.”

“Oh.” You looked around awkwardly, starting to get up from the bed. “Sorry, I thought he was allowed to have one person stay overnight.”

“Spouses and immediate family only, I’m sorry.”

“That’s fi—”

“No, we’re married,” Sungchan insisted, grabbing your hand. “It’s fine, she can stay.”

“Sir…” He trailed off, clearly debating about whether or not he wanted to just outright call Sungchan a liar.

“Channie, I told him earlier we were dating,” you informed your boyfriend quietly. “It’s fine, I don’t want to cause any trouble.”

“Baby…” He sighed.

“It’ll be okay, Channie, I’ll be back tomorrow,” you promised him, grabbing your go bag off the floor and hoisting it onto your shoulder. “You just worry about resting and getting better for me, okay?”

“I’ll walk you out, sweetheart,” his mom offered kindly, standing up as well.

“Thank you.”

“Goodnight, Channie,” you leaned down to drop a peck on his forehead. “I love you.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He continued to keep a deathly tight grasp on your hand. “I love you too.”

You gave his hand one final pat before regretfully, gently shaking him off and walking out of the room. Dr. Jung slowly meandered down the hall with you.

“I’ll be there, in case they have to inject him, or draw blood, or anything else,” she reassured you.

“Right, thank you,” you nodded, looking down at your feet. “Has he always been afraid of needles? He never really talks about it with me, it’s just one of those things. I go with him for his shots, blood draws, all that.”

“Since he was a kid. He used to run from the room crying. We at least wanted him to be able to handle it on his own by the time he was an adult, even if it wasn’t comfortable.”

“He gives me my monthly injection now, the one I take for my migraines. Did you know that?”

“Really?” She did sound surprised at this tidbit of information.

“Pretty much since we started dating, yeah. Still wants me to go with him for his shots but…”

“It’s different when you’re the one being stuck.”

“Yeah, it is,” you agreed, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You pressed the down button on the elevator. “Usually I’m the one that has something wrong with me and he’s taking care of me. It’s so… it doesn’t feel right, seeing him like that.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” She rubbed your arm. “But he’s strong, he’s healthy. I’m sure they’ll discharge him tomorrow to go back home with you.”

“Of course.”

“Now you go home and take care of that migraine that’s been coming on for the last fifteen minutes.”

You looked up at her with one eye open, shrugging. “Well, I don’t know if it’s a full migraine…”

“You’re squinting at the lights, sweetheart. Go home so you can take your meds, okay?”

The elevator dinged just then, the doors opening on your floor.

“Okay, thank you.” You gave her a tired, but genuinely grateful smile as you stepped onto the elevator. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You spent that night going through your first migraine alone in almost two years, curled up on Sungchan’s side of the bed in one of his huge hoodies, feeling like your head was exploding. But that wasn’t even the reason that you were crying.

In the morning, you were awake before visiting hours opened back up, and despite your instinct to drive to the hospital and wait in the parking lot, you pulled yourself into the shower instead. You didn’t have a lot of time nor mobility for your own shower routine yesterday, and were in desperate need of a good thorough clean and refresh now. After eating some of the leftovers you made the day before, you packed up a small to-go meal for Dr. Jung as well, unsure of how good the cafeteria food was there. She had given you an update during the night that his fever had finally broken, then another once she woke up that he slept through the rest of the night fine, and was still resting as of her text.

By the time you got to the hospital, it was open for daytime visitors, and you were let in with no issues. You’d let Dr. Jung know when you were on your on way, and she was standing outside the door to his room when you arrived.

“Morning, sweetheart,” she smiled, giving you a hug. “How’s your head?”

“Fine,” you waved off her concerns, reaching into your bag to grab the container of food you’d packed. “Brought you breakfast. Wasn’t sure what they were serving downstairs…”

She accepted it gratefully. “Thank you. Now: How’s your head?”

“Last night kind of sucked,” you admitted. “And I’ve got a rebound headache, but I’ll be fine. We don’t need to tell Channie right now, though. He’ll just worry too much and he won’t get better. How’d you sleep? That recliner looked pretty comfy.”

“Would’ve slept better, except he snores like a freight train,” she scoffed. “How you get any sleep is beyond me.”

You let out a round of genuine laughter at that. “He doesn’t usually. Must be the congestion.”

“Must be.” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’m going to take my breakfast downstairs. He’s awake, been asking when you’d be here.”

“Thank you.” You gave her one last fleeting hug before hurrying in.

Sungchan already looked better than yesterday, still tired, but not as deathly pale as before, with no sheen of fever-sweat over his skin. He really just looked… tired.

“Good morning, Channie,” you said breathlessly, setting your bag down. “Heard your fever broke last night. How are you feeling?”

“Morning, baby.” He reached out for your hand. “I’m feeling a lot better. I wish I could’ve made my girl breakfast this morning…”

“You can make me double breakfast after you come home.”

“And what’s double breakfast?”

“Guess you’ll have to figure that out.”

“Breakfast and breakfast for dinner.”

“Sounds pretty good to me.”

He looked up at you with a thoughtful frown on his face, reaching out to gently touch his fingertips to your cheek. “Are you okay, baby? You’re not feeling sick now too, are you?”

“I’m fine, baby. Just a bit tired. I’ll sleep like a baby once I have my Sungchannie back home with me.” You mustered as big of a smile as you could, squeezing his hand.

“I’ve got to get better quick then, can’t have—” he was cut off by loud, violent coughs, throwing his arm up to cover his mouth with his elbow. You rubbed his back as he continued coughing, and he reached for the bedside table. Handing him a couple of tissues from the box sat there, he spat out some of the mucus that had come up, and you used a few more fresh tissues to grab it and throw it away without complaint.

Returning to his side, you continued rubbing his back as he caught his breath. When he started slowly easing back into his bed, you took your hand away and grabbed his cup of water to give him.

“Here.”

He took a few sips before handing it back, and you took his hand again.

“As I was saying,” he cleared his throat. “Before I was so rudely interrupted by my own phlegm: I can’t have my girl all alone in a cold bed at night…”

You laughed, feeling the smitten smile on your face as you looked down at him. “There is some horndog switch in you that gets flipped when you’re unwell, I swear. Scientists need to study you.”

“I’m a scientist, remember?”

“You study a disease in one kind of fish,” you pointed out. “I mean like… sexologists or something. If those exist.”

“They do.”

“Well they’re missing out on… something here.” You gestured to him.

He half-laughed and half-coughed, which devolved into another full coughing fit. After recovering, he said, “Anyway, once my doctor rounds again and checks me out, he’ll be able to say if I can be discharged today or if he wants to keep me another night.”

“Fingers crossed.”

The utter relief that you felt having Sungchan home again was a feeling unparalleled. Having him home, in his own clothes, in your bed, holding you and laughing at something stupid he’d just said but thought was the funniest thing ever—that was the most you’d ever loved someone, you decided.

You suddenly rolled over to lay on top of him, pressing your face to his chest, wrapping your arms around him, and throwing your leg over him. He let out a slightly punched-out noise at the unexpected force of your affections, but nevertheless readjusted to wrap his arms around you.

“Hey, baby… Everything okay?” His throat was still hoarse, and he let out a half-cough half-throat clearing noise between his sentences. He added jokingly, “I’m not going to float away, you know?”

“I never want you to leave again,” you mumbled into his clothes. “Never. Never ever.”

“Okay, yeah,” his voice softened, one of his hands cradling the back of your head and stroking your hair. “I’ll never leave, ever again.”

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[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 12

PREVIOUS

If there was one thing no one would ever guess about FF it is that he unapologetically LOVES Black Friday.

You may be thinking. Ugh Black Friday. Everyone is so rude and tired. The deals aren’t even that good. It can turn into a blood sport at the drop of a hat over a toaster that is 15% off.

You are correct.

That is why FF loves it.

It is the one shopping day of the year where every single one of his instincts are correct, valid, and useful. He has pulled his gran out of the way of elbow drops, he has avoided the gaze of a woman in PINK sweat pants who was looking for someone to steal a blender from, and he knows without a doubt that the cashier hates him already so there’s no need to worry about whether or not they hate him.

It’s like a breath of fresh air!

Everyone is just as antagonistic and awful as he thinks they are!

Shopping is actually the blood sport he always feels like it is!

So there he is standing in a line at the nearest store (Target) waiting to be let in with the masses who all look ready to stab one another for better positioning for a TV. The jokes on them though because his only goal is the grocery section and he deals with the threat of repeated stabbings for BREAKFAST.

He spots an IHOP in the distance and hopes his gran doesn’t feel too lonely. They’ve gotten buttermilk stacks together at the IHOP by the mall for years after the two of them finished Christmas Shopping.

Someone elbows him in the side to get his spot in line but FF does not really care. Again, he doubts any of these people are going to be racing him to the all purpose flour.

It’s 4 AM and the barricades come down.

There’s a rush of people pushing and shoving but FF just steps to the side and watches as they all rush in. He’d mostly stayed in the line because the throng of people made it easier to stay warm. He had left his jacket back at the house because the five hour energy might be making his skin feel super sensitive but he is pretty sure that if he wore his nylon jacket he would die.

The five hour energy also may be upping his anxiety just a little bit.

He walks into the store at a leisurely pace and while the crowd fights over the carts he grabs one of the baskets. He can feel the eyes of other shoppers all wondering if he has some insider knowledge on a good deal that would only require the basket or if it’s a matter of who gets to the back to receive the ‘redeem’ coupon.

He sees a few shoppers get lured in by his siren call and much like a siren following anything that FF is about to do will undoubtedly lead to their downfall.

But FF doesn’t care about that.

He cares about HIS downfall.

So he makes his way to the grocery section and ignores the six different shopping assistants who try and guide him to where he ‘should’ be shopping and each of them only give him increasingly confused looks when he states his intention to go to the grocery section every single time.

Is it easier to ignore their stares when the five hour energy have set his baseline heart rate to something that might be too fast to register as a heartbeat? Maybe.

It is easier to ignore the confusion on their faces when he can see both the past (he asked for TWO favors from Andrew in one day how is he still alive???) and the future (still malleable at the moment apparently. There’s even a future where Andrew actually just is trying to make overtures of friendship but he dismisses that one as INCREDIBLY unlikely and looks at the far more viable one where Andrew at least makes his death quick while he enjoys his great gran’s brownies.)

It’s good to set reasonable goals for yourself.

So he arrives at the grocery section which is deserted aside from one employee who may or may not be asleep against a shelf. FF looks and….not a shelf he needs so he is not about to wake that poor man up.

So he gets everything he needs for his great gran’s brownies (he’s trying to buy his life here so he is not about to assume he can use ANYTHING in the house), the ingredients for a good breakfast (because he really needs to eat something that is not a five hour energy or sugar for the sake of his poor stomach and he may as well get enough for everyone), and (since Captain Neil mentioned it & he is trying to buy his life here) the ingredients to bake another pie.

While he grabs cinnamon he checks to see if they have grandma’s love in stock but, alas, it continues to be unavailable commercially.

He stares at the whipped cream for so long that the employee asleep in the other aisle woke up and asked if he needed help and, startled, he dropped it in his basket. “No I’m good.” He says before power walking out of the grocery department and deciding to brave the Home Goods section to buy some incense so that he can hopefully channel the spirit of his great gran to assist him in this, the darkest of his baking hours.

He arrives at the check out stations and finds the shortest line .

He can feel eyes on him, inspecting his purchases, judging them, judging him, who the fuck goes grocery shopping during the Black Friday rush?

FF.

FF goes grocery shopping during the Black Friday rush.

The cashier looks for hidden cameras but FF has no such thing accompanying him today or ever (as far as he knows.)

After a moment the cashier must look at the ever growing line and decide that whatever scheme they think FF is up to isn’t worth trying to figure out. They offer a membership card, FF valiantly declines to get one despite the two attempts.

He is out the door with four bags of groceries that all have a target on them that feels a little too correct. It’s 6 AM now (he really did lose a lot of time at the whipped cream section) and he’s walking back to the house in Columbia.

He actually feels a little bit better since he at least got to experience his actual favorite blood sport (sorry Exy) and he even got another 2 five hour energies while he was in the check out line so he could replace some of the ones that he had gone through.

“Smith?”

He would like to thank the combined weight of the groceries for keeping his feet on the ground when he heard Captain Neil’s voice.

He turns and Captain Neil is looking at him wide-eyed in his running gear that Smith has seen him in. “You were shopping??” He asks.

FF nods and lifts up the four bags as evidence. “Why didn’t you pick up your phone?” He asks.

FF almost scoffs but he doesn’t, “You can’t be distracted when you’re in a Target on Black Friday. That’s how you take an elbow to the eye.” He responds because it’s like Captain Neil has never experienced the WWE-like environment of Black Friday shopping.

Captain Neil blinks at him.

“Text Andrew or me next time you’re going to go off into the night or just let us know beforehand. Andrew would have driven you.” Captain Neil says and grabs two of the bags out of FF’s hand. “C’mon let’s get back and maybe you can get some sleep.” Captain Neil sighs.

“I’m fine.” FF adjusts the bags so he has one in each hand.

Captain Neil does not say anything so FF assumes that he has accepted that.

***

FF had not been asleep on the couch when Neil had walked through the living room. Neil, in a move that had Andrew fully waking up, went back to the room to check his phone to see if FF had texted him an update on going out. All that greets Neil is the impersonal series of texts that mostly confirmed when practice times had been changed, when the bus was leaving, and spelling on various Spanish words.

FF isn’t a big text person.

He’s more of an in-person kind of friend.

Neil likes that about him most of the time.

“What.” Andrew asks face still half buried in Neil’s pillow.

“Smith isn’t on the couch.”

That has Andrew getting up despite the early hour and their activities the night before. Neil watches as Andrew grabs his own phone to scroll through but seems to come up with the same lack of communication that Neil does.

Andrew does do the extra step and hit the call button.

But all he gets is the confirmation that the VM has not been configured that has greeted them every time FF misses their calls. (Voicemails make FF anxious so when he got his new phone he just…never configured it.)

Neil knew that FF was not pleased with them and somehow the calm request to either stop fooling around or let him out had hit him and Andrew harder than any of the screaming demands that the two of them were usually met with from Nicky, Kevin, Aaron, or any of the other Foxes.

“You said he wasn’t mad.” Neil says.

“He nodded.” Andrew confirms.

“Maybe he went on a walk?” Neil tries as they come out to the living room. They look at the front door and find that it’s locked but it looks like Aaron’s keys are gone. “He probably is going to come back if he took Aaron’s keys since Aaron wouldn’t be the one he’d be irritated with.” Neil rationalizes.

“He didn’t bring his jacket.” Andrew says looking at the black jacket still on the hook by the door.

“We can go and see if we spot him.” Neil offers.

Andrew nods and Neil heads out first since Andrew is still in his sleeping clothes and will need some time.

Neil had not expected to find FF walking back to the house with groceries for breakfast and the pie that Neil had mentioned hoping they could bake at the house.

“Is this for the pie?” He asks looking down at what was in the bags he was carrying as the walked back to the house. Neil managed to shoot off a quick text letting Andrew know that it was fine, FF just went grocery shopping.

FF just nods, “Got everything but Grandma’s love.” He says.

FF is a nice guy to brave the stores on a morning like this but FF also looks like he hasn’t slept a wink.

“Did you sleep at all last night?” Neil asks.

“I’m fine.” FF repeats.

Neil really is starting to understand his friends’ hatred for the phrase.

They get back to the house and Andrew is sat out in the living room. FF stops and blinks at the sight of him sitting there.

It is a well-known fact that Andrew does not willingly wake up early most days unless he has to. Neil is glad that Andrew has a friend that he’s coming to care about the way Andrew cares about FF.

Andrew gets up and yanks the bags out of FF’s hands. “Go to sleep. Today will be irritating if you’re half-asleep.” He says with a scowl and walks to the kitchen to put away the groceries FF had bought.

FF just looks at where Andrew had gone uncomprehendingly for a few moments and Neil figures he’s just tired. Neil feels guilty that him and Andrew messing around in the car like that had rendered FF unable to sleep and the two of them had agreed last night that from now on when FF is in the car they can talk all they want but hands stay on the wheel and eyes stay on the road.

FF is plopped down on the couch when Andrew and Neil come out of the kitchen after putting away the groceries (“These are the ingredients for brownies.” Andrew had noted as he put away melting chocolate.) and he’s looking through his flashcards again and not sleeping. He hears Andrew make a disgusted noise next to him and the next thing he knows Andrew is smacking the cards out of FF’s hands.

“Go. To. Sleep.” Andrew enunciates.

FF stares at him, then down at the flashcards. “I don’t think I can.” He says which is better than him lying and saying he wasn’t tired even if the truth had Andrew’s mouth stretch into a thin line that meant he was beating himself up for something.

“Try.” Andrew orders. “Just lay down and close your eyes. Nothing will happen to you while you’re sleeping.” He says.

FF blinks but nods turning on the couch and laying down. The blanket is still over on the lazy boy that Neil had set it on the night before and Andrew rolls his eyes before grabbing it and tossing it over FF.

“Thanks.” FF says before closing his eyes.

Neil looks to Andrew who nods and Neil accepts that there’s nothing else to be done for now and heads out on his run.

***

FF can admit that he’s a bit adrift in what Andrew and Captain Neil are doing right now.

He really should go grab another five hour energy because falling asleep IN FRONT of an irritated Andrew Minyard feels like a death sentence but “Nothing will happen to you while you’re sleeping.” And having a blanket thrown over him did not feel like a threat even if he can feel Andrew’s eyes watching him.

FF is tired and when he’s tired he tends to make stupid decisions. So FF lets himself drift off to sleep while the man who was likely going to move him to a secondary location sat and watched.

His dreams are not peaceful.

He’s running, can’t escape, an echo of words he should have considered before letting himself drift off and he knows he’s going to DIE.

He wakes up with a start to the smell of bacon, eggs, and hashed browns with Nicky standing over him. “Hey there sleeping beauty! I made you a plate!” He says and hands FF a plate of breakfast that smiles up at him with a bacon mouth, egg eyes, and hashed brown hair.

FF takes the plate and digs in immediately. He needs his strength.

“Today will be irritating if you’re half-asleep.”

Andrew Minyard was going to hunt him for SPORT.

NEXT

Do your civic duty and: CAST YOUR VOTE TODAY ABOUT MEMES (closed)

Per Your Requests:

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As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly? (Cheesecookie whatever you did let me actually select you this time)

[chuthulhu-reads]

[ID: Five panels from Trigun Maximum. The background and borders are solid black instead of solid white. Before the first panel are speech bubbles saying, "Mama. Mama, look!" The second panel shows a small child pointing as his mother, a pretty woman with a kind smile, crouches next to him. In the second panel, the mother looks down at the child and says, "She's pretty, isn't she?" The little boy, still staring up, asks, "Why..." In the third panel, he looks up at his mother and continues, "...Is she in there?" In the fourth panel, the mother puts her hands on the kid's shoulders and looks up as she says, "She's... working." In the fifth panel, the mother smiles back down at her son as she says, "It's thanks to her that you, mama and papa can live here safely." The little boy looks confused. End ID.]

I WEEP over this flashback. They're introducing the plant to their child not as something weird or alien, but pretty. Not as a thing, but a person who's working, who's not just property of the community but a crucial member of it. In the next panels, the mother prompts her child to thank the plant in a way that looks both like a hyper-respectful Japanese bow and Christian prayer.

[ID: Three panels from Trigun Maximum. The first shows the little boy pointing up with a big smile. Behind him, his mother is looking back over her shoulder at her husband, a smiling man in glasses. The little boy is saying, "Mama, look! She smiled!" The second panel shows the little boy still looking up and smiling as, behind him, his parents talk and laugh together. In the third panel, the boy is turning away and looking at his parents, saying, "See?" as the father smiles and waves and the mother looks surprised. After the last panel, there's black space, and a last speech bubble saying, "She smiled..." End ID.]

She smiled. She smiled at a child smiling at her. She smiled at a child who was alive because of her. She smiled at the people who loved her and prayed to her and thanked her. She treasured them enough to remember their smiles even after being fused into the horrendous amalgamation in the Ark.

[ID: Two panels from Trigun Maximum. The first shows Knives looking startled, wide-eyed and sweating, the left side of his face flaking somewhat. The second panel shows him standing on a walkway over a huge mass of fused plants, an uncomfortably fleshy mess of wings, veins, and random limbs. Knives is saying, "Was that..."]

LOOK at that. Knives himself knows he's at risk of losing his sense of self inside that mass, and Chronica later says that plants don't innately have an individual sense of self to begin with. Yet one of those plants remembered some of the humans she once supported fondly enough to cling to that memory, no matter what; or, perhaps, that memory was so beloved by every other plant that saw it that they all kept it, all shared it and held it close to their hearts, all that love battering against Knives' shaky mental walls of rage and hatred and fear.

[ID: A chaotic double-page spread from Trigun Maximum. The first four panels show a quick sequence of Knives falling to his knees and gasping as he clutches at his face, his eyes widening desperately. The next three panels are thin slices, each showing a larger and larger number of random people, like you're pulling out from a crowd that just keeps getting bigger. Despite how many people are crammed into each panel, artistic effort has been put into making each face unique and distinct from each other. The next face shows Knives' face literally cracking and splitting into a number of panels showing the Project Seeds ships, stars in space, the shooting-star image of the ships falling, a sun rising over ruined ships, and the elongated arms of a plant reaching out from among folded wings. A panel at the bottom of the page shows Knives screaming as it looks like the flesh is actually melting off of his face. The last panel shows Elendira running towards him, crying out, "Knives!" End ID.]

I really think, at the end of the day, the plants don't necessarily mind being relied on as producers, because I think they love life and creation. They've held onto all of these faces, all these people who were alive because of them. Short of the horror of the Last Runs, maybe they take pride in what they do. Maybe seeing other lives flourish from theirs makes them happy. We don't know for sure, but for all the body horror in their imagery, they are still, ultimately, evocative of angels. And they're reaching out to Knives with enough love for humanity to fracture the walls in his mind that he's put up against the reality of what the Big Fall was, against remembering that he did once love humans, and then he killed tens of millions of them. Being forced to see humans as Vash and the other plants do--as individuals, as living things, as people--is literally tearing him apart. God this page is a real artistic flex from Nightow, both in terms of panel composition and just thumbing his nose at mangaka that draw the same three faces forever

[lady-ashfade]

Like moths to a flame- The deal.

Yandere crows x fem!reader. Characters: Kaz Brekker, Inej Ghafa, Nina zenik, Jesper Fahey, Wylan Van Eck, Matthias Helvar.

Notes: not much yandere tendency in this one but it’s a set up for the future. I have not read the books. Honestly I hope this okay! (No Matthias in this, because I am trying to learn how to do him-Some way good)

Taglist: @cleverzonkwombatsludge @babyblue-chaos @2234world @missbeeentertainment @multifandomconfusion

Warning: cringy writing, mistakes, but nothing to worry about!

The sound of cards, coins clinking and hitting the table, the smell of alcohol and sweat mixed with hint perfume of the woman in the place. Voices from each part of the place was overwhelming, you couldn’t hear yourself think. It was a good tactic for the place, makes the stress higher.

You could’ve gone anywhere else because surely there were more people willing to help you, but strangely you felt at easy with the place. Maybe it was because it was new to you from your kept any life style. Everyone here was different then you, most bastards and lowlife but you felt envy of them. You felt guilty for wanting the chance to be like them because even you wished for freedom. In their shoes it wasn’t easy and most of them wouldn’t even life to see tomorrow but that’s the similarity between the two. You both had obstacles to over come.

Scanning your eyes you head over to the bar and took notice off all the eyes shifting to you. Well dressed, jewelry that cost probably more then they had seen in their life. The cleanness of your skin and the most noticeable thing about you, the moth pin on the back of your head. “What’s someone like you doing here?” The man behind the counter asked. You smiled at him and held your hands together, “I need to take to your boss- Or the man who runs this place.” It was unusual how kind your voice was, like it had all its innocents intact.

“Hmm, are you sure you have the right place?” He looked you up and down. You nodded your head then reacted into the pocket on your belt and pulled out two coins. “I have plenty of money, if you could be so kind as to maybe tell your boss about me I would appreciate it.” You slipped a note on the table with the money, “And tell your boss what I need done is worth a lot, king of the barrel worth.” Shooting him one last smile and bowing your head.

Walking away from him and toward the door you kept the smile on your face as you look at the the place. “Leaving so soon?” And voice came up behind you. The voice was raspy and deep, like the sound of the night sky or the clouds on a rainy day. Then there was the sound of a few clicks on the floor of what sounded like a cane. Turing around to face the man who you recognized immediately even if you had never seen him before. His pale skin and dark circles, the black outfit and the hat on top of his head, then there was the gloves that gripped the cane. The gold crow on the tip.

“Kaz brekker, a pleasure.” Giving him a slight bow you bent your knee, he watched you with a scowl on his face and what looked like confusion at your actions. “Your business here?” He asked straight away sounding harsh but you had no offense. “I have a job for you if you’re willing to take it.” You whipped your hands on your dress as they started to sweat.

He arched a brow, “What does one of The Five need help here?” You blushed at the recognition because you knew it was strange. Of course you knew you were going to be recognized by everyone, you were one of the houses considered “royal” here. “What you should focus on is that you know I have money,” you smirked at him, “there is a note for you with the bartender.”

He looks at you and tries to read your attitude, it was too sweet, something had to be wrong. “Just think about it?” There was the sweet voice again that for some reason made his mind twist but he convinced himself it was the thought of money. He watched you walk out the bar with grace and almost pure light and he didn’t believe in saints or fate…But there was something about you.

His mind began to wonder about the offer and what he could do for you, surely you wouldn’t need anything stolen. And it couldn’t be killing or then again, you might think this was where to get it done. “Interesting.” He said loudly to himself and looked at the door you walked out almost picturing you.

“Who you talking to boss?” He turned around to see Jesper looking at him with a smirk and he could tell he was being teased. Rolling his eyes at his friend and walked passed him, “Might have a job.” The other man follows him to the bar and watched as a note was given to him.

“What kind of job?” He spoke curiously and intrigued. Kaz took a moment to read the note and the slight change in his face, however small, Jesper could tell it was something off. “What’s it say?” He pressed on and lend on the table for the other to respond. Kaz took a moment to think, “Well?” He looked at Jesper as the man annoyed him. 

“Meeting tonight, tell the others.” And without anything else he limped away with his cane. The shooter threw his hands up and leaned back onto the bar, left with no answers. “Oh, well Jesper since you’re apart of the group I will give you the information.” He signaled the bartender to get him some shots as he talked to himself. “Because you have risked your life time and time again I consider you a friend, and i would never walk away from you.” As soon as the small glasses was placed in front of him he took them quickly.

“Do you this is actually a good idea?” He threw his arms on his hips and pushed his coat out of the way. Kaz kept his eyes ahead and not paying any attention to the talking man beside him. Jesper groaned and looked back at nina and wylan for help. “I mean, it could be a real job.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “Or it could be a trap.” Wylan commented. “See, I told you.” Jesper shouted and made kaz stop in his tracks.

Raising his cane to stop Jesper from walking and then turned around to face his crew. “I am aware this could be a trap, every possibility you have in your heads I have already ran out in mine. We have back up plans. But I will not have you guys whine like dogs because of this, so maybe pictures your pockets being weighed down with money. Just shut it because I don’t want this to be ruined.” He leaned closer to them and the sound of his glove getting tighter on the cane was heard, and his glare getting harder.

“Do I make myself clear?” They all pushed aside their worries and nodded along to agree. Kaz looked up and Inej stood on the roof above, he signaled her and she went away to find a away into the house. The four continued walking and got to the gate where two men stood behind the gate, big and buff. “What’s your business?” The man with the beard asked.

“We have a meeting with the lady of the house, deals to be made.” Kaz spoke with ease, the two guys looked at each other then unlocked the gate. “No funny business, if you make one wrong move we’ll kill you.” The groups looked at him and to each other, wondering if they should laugh or not. The group heading inside the lovely mansion, so shiny and everything thing in it mush be worth more then what they had on them. The colors light and it looked almost like paradise. 

A woman step out of a door in a maiden outfit and looked at them, the woman was older and didn’t looked to pleased to see them. “Follow me please.” And with that they followed her up the huge stairs with golden railings. On each wall, Or carving or almost anywhere they looked they saw some type of moth. Given that was the house crest it was fitting but this was almost over the top, almost. They came to a stopping point and two big hallways were on both side with so many doors and two big door at the end of each.

“She has requested to have a conversation alone and as must as I advised against it, she is headstrong against it.” The woman grumbled. She opened the door and they walked it, “If I hear anything- Dead.” The guard said before the door closed. A giggle distracted them from the comment and looked around the room for the person. She sat in a chair with a light tan color of a dress and a jewelry matching with it, a cup of tea in her hands.

The room big and full of chairs and tables, marble floor and food all around, the smell of fruity perfume was in the air. Huge windows with light curtains draped down but the biggest one was left open and wind blew the curtains. “Sorry about them, they can be quite protective.” They looked at her, this was strange. She look so pure and innocent, the sweet sound of her voice and the smile on her face made them think she was a gift from that saints themselves.

“We’re here, let’s discuss business.” Kaz spoke trying not to waist any time. “Sit, please I have tea and sweets.” She moved her arms to make them sit down and the first one was nina and she blooped down on the chair and took a small cookie. “Hmm, this is delicious.” She praised and took the whole thing into her mouth, “where did you get theses?”

Y/n smiled and became glad she had them made and it filled her with pride, “I have the baker make them, you’re welcome to as many as you want.” Nina looked at the girl and felt her heart softened before grabbing some more from the tray. Kaz watched her with a glare and the group lost all there suspicion and joined the two girls around the table.

“I hope your wraith is okay, I left the widow open so she would have a place to come in- But this is a large place.” Kaz became tense because it sounds like a threat of some sort. But the girl caught onto his body and his face, she knew what he was thinking. “She is in no harm here. I’ve already alerted my staff to not harm her and if they see her they will point her this way.”

Kaz looks at her with no trust but this mind said otherwise, “Get on with it.” The girl smiled at his demand. “We both have something for the other. I on one hand have wealth and a high title, you have a title yourself for being…uh,” she glanced at each other them trying not to sound rude and find a word that doesn’t insult them.

“Devilishly attractive?” Jesper raised a brow with a tone, the girls cheeks began to heat up a bit. But she brushed it off with a laugh, “Talented at what you do.” Their hearts couldn’t understand why they craved to hear those words again, or any praise she had. They all turned their heads at someone coming through the window, “You must be the wraith.”

Inej stood up at took everything in then to the girl in the center who looked like actually royalty. She was beautiful and her voice was sweet, Inej couldn’t handle the gaze from her eyes. “What is it you need done. You have yet to tell us.” Kaz glared at the girl making her look apologetic, the groups looked at him for making her look a bit sad.

“Well I need protection and don’t get me wrong my guards are lovely but I need more. If people heard I have kaz brekker and his crows watching over me then it would lessen the threat. But the same could be said for you,” the girl sat up and went over to a small table and picked up a chest underneath it. She had a problem picking it up but she got ahold of it and brought it over to kaz and placed it down at his feet.

Kaz took a step back like the box was a threat, “If people heard you have a alliance with the L/n’s then your loud would be lessened. People are scared of one of the fives, think about it. You could go to each shop and just say who you are and get things. But, here’s what I think you want to see.” She bend down and opened the chest. Kaz’s eyes trailed down and his eyes glazed over at the sight, it filled to the brim with kroge. His lips pulled up into a very light smirk.

The rest got up from their sets and came over to see, “I could get so many hats.” They heard Jesper say. “This is only a pre-pay.” The girl backed up and played with her hands. She looked anxious and kaz could see that and it made him question why. “What do you need protection from? If you’re house is so feared?” Her face dropped.

“Just something to scared people even more, and then there’s something else want.” Kaz eyed her up and down as did the rest listen to her every word. “I want a taste of your life, I know it sounds strange and maybe it is but I care little of it. I have been kept this house raised to be perfect, I didn’t get to choose. But with you guys it freedom and you get to make your own choices, everything you have is worked for- I was given and taught.” She shrugged her shoulders and looked down like she was ashamed of her words.

“You want to this as what? A vacation?” His word’s harsher then before. Y/n looked down and sighed, “I want something new.” Kaz looked down at the money in front of him then up at his crew, each of them with pleading eyes and he couldn’t deny his body craved to have her in his sights.

“Then little moth, you have yourself a deal.”



[chrisbitchtree]

Billy’s going to faint. He’s going to faint and he’s going to fall backwards down the hill he and Harrington just climbed, hitting his head on every single root and rock on the way to the bottom, and he’ll have no one to blame but himself, because it’s his fault that Steve’s wearing bright red short shorts.

The problem was Billy’s big mouth, and the fact that the only way he knew how to flirt was by teasing the object of his affections. Harrington dressed like an old stiff in his polos and khakis, always so buttoned up, and by doing so, he was just handing Billy something to bug him about, so it was his favourite thing to pick on.

Steve usually took it all in stride, his only tell being the slight pinkening of his cheeks when Billy ribbed him. If it wasn’t for that, Billy would never know that he was getting to Steve at all.

The tipping point had been the week before, when Billy and Steve had gone to the movies with Heather and Robin. Steve had shown up in a long sleeve polo, collar buttoned to the top, and jeans that actually looked like creases had been ironed into them. It left little for Billy to ogle, so he couldn’t let Harrington get away with it.

“Really going for that Victorian romance vibe there, aren’t ya, pretty boy?”

Steve gave him a look of pure confusion. Oh right, Billy had forgotten who he was dealing with here. “It looks like you’re worried that if we see even a sliver of your ankle or wrist, we’ll cream our jeans. Who ya hiding from?”

“Not hiding from anyone,” Harrington muttered, glaring at Billy over their cup of soda. They’d decided to share because a large was cheaper than two smalls, and Billy couldn’t wait to get his lips around the same straw that Steve’s had just touched. “I can show skin if i want to. I just choose not to. Not everyone has to have their tits on display all the time, Hargrove.” Steve practically shouted, gesturing wildly at Billy’s almost completely open shirt. People were starting to stare, but Billy couldn’t care less.

Steve’s cheeks were bright red and his hands were crossed over his chest. He was pouting, and Billy couldn’t have found it any cuter if he tried. He dropped the subject and largely forgot about it.

That was until that very morning, when Steve had called Billy and asked him if he wanted to go for a hike. Billy asked if the girls would be joining them, and Steve said no. Billy and Steve were what most would consider pretty good friends now, so it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary for them to do stuff just the two of them, but they didn’t exactly make it a habit either. Things were just easier with the buffer of Robin and Heather. Billy agreed to go on the hike, and Steve offered to pick him up at 11.

Billy had pulled his sturdiest boots out of the hall closet, pairing them with some cut off jean shorts and a t-shirt with the arms and sides cut out, to show off his body to maximum effect. He had no clue what Harrington was going to show up in, but he was not expecting it to be the aforementioned red short shorts, stamped with Property of Hawkins Middle, and a grey cropped t-shirt that Billy actually recognized as his own, from a pizza place back in Cali. He must have left it at Steve’s once when he went swimming that summer.

Billy said into the passenger seat and buckled up, at a loss for words. Steve eyed him over the top of his Ray-Bans, as if waiting for Billy to make a comment.

When Billy remained silent, Steve placed his hand on his own bare leg, running it up the length, until his thumb slid under the hem of the shorts. “Like the new look, Hargrove? Is this enough skin for you?”

Billy nodded stiffly, unable to meet Steve’s gaze. His palms were sweating and his heart was hammering in his chest. He gulped. “I think that’s enough skin for about five guys, Harrington. When you go in, you really go all in, don’t you?”

The look Steve gave him was almost flirty, if Billy was reading things correctly. “Isn’t this what you wanted? For me to give you a show?” With that, he put the car into gear and zipped down Billy’s quiet street.

Now, they’re halfway through their hike, and they’re on an uphill, which means Harrington’s ass has been right in Billy’s face for the past ten minutes. Thank god the shorts aren’t any shorter, because Billy doesn’t see any panty lines, so if they were shorter, Harrington’s cock and balls would be greeting him as well. It’s taking everything Billy has to not reach out and touch.

And then there’s also the little issue of trying not to faint from the excitement of it all, a battle Billy’s pretty sure he’s going to lose. He’s feeling dizzy, and everything in front of him is becoming a blur. He hasn’t felt this was around a boy since he was about twelve, and it’s beyond embarrassing, but he needs to say something before he falls and breaks a leg.

“Harrington, I need to stop,” he says abruptly, looking for something to sit on.

Steve starts to tease him, Billy can tell it’s teasing from the tone of his voice, but he can’t really hear what he’s saying over the roar of his heartbeat in his ears.

Suddenly, he feels a hand grasp his arm and lead him off the path. In a second, he’s sitting on a rock, and water is being splashed on his face.

“You ok, man?” Steve asks, a look of concern on his face.

“Yeah, I think it was just the heat getting to me,” Billy mutters lamely, trying to cover the truth. It’s a nice fall day, but not hit by any stretch of the imagination.

“Sure,” Steve says, nodding. “The heat. Or maybe those Victorians were onto something, wearing all those clothes so no one got too excited?”

It’s Billy’s turn for his face to turn flaming red, and he groans, splashing more water from the bottle onto his face to try to cut the heat in his cheeks.

“Awww, poor little Billy’s burning up. Would a kiss make it better?”

Billy nods. He’s not sure, but it can’t hurt to try.

[enkays-den]

Skizz Week 2, Day 1!

@skizzlemanweek has organized an event to celebrate Skizz going full time! Here's the link to the prompts and here's today's prompt: Calm/Chaos! The cleaning part is very much inspired by this piece @fence-time did a while back.

1.8k, no warnings, Impulse, Skizz

---

It was after the first ZITS stream of the season, and Impulse could see Skizz was still hanging around. He’d flown back to the cyberpunk city to say goodbye to chat, but now that he has shut down stream and gotten settled down, he didn’t feel like going to bed. 

He pulled out his comm and texted Skizz.

yo dude, where are you?

Hot tubbies!

omw :) 

Impulse hopped on Tyler Swift and made the quick trip to Tango’s base. Sure enough, Skizz was lounging in one of the giant cauldrons they’d sunk into the ground to serve as makeshift hot tubs. They’d dug a pit into the earth, sunk the cauldrons and their heating elements into the ground, and flooded the area around, so the river water didn’t get into the baths. Unlike before, when he was sitting fully clothed in the basin, he had removed his shirt and the camera harness that let them stream what they were doing without losing utility of their hands. Impulse really hoped he was wearing swim trunks or frankly, anything.

“Hey, bro!” Skizz said, waving. “Just taking a hot bath!

“We just came back from the Nether, dude, and you’re taking a hot bath? You’re gonna cook!”

“It’s good for my bad back! Plus, we were hella dirty from all the sweat and dust anyways. Might as well. Wanna join?”

“No thank you, I will bathe in the privacy of my own base, thank you very much.”

“Spoil sport,” Skizz teased.

Impulse sat on the grass by the water and pulled out a sketchbook. He began working on some supply lists for the city. 

“My chat was having a great time, by the way,” Impulse said. They all seemed really happy you’re here with us.”

Skizz grinned, his brown wings rustling with happiness. “That’s sweet of them. A lot of people joined my chat and were like” – he pulled his ‘cross-eyed and confused’ face - “‘uhhhhhhh who is this old fart’, which is a ridiculous question because first off, uh what are these people talking about? I’m twenty-five. Second of all, how could these people not know me? I’m awesome,” he bragged.

Impulse rolled his eyes at his friend’s false bravado.

They passed the time talking about their base builds, Impulse lounging on the edge of the water and Skizz washing away the grime of the day. Unfortunately, the cauldron was much too small for Skizz to wash his massive wings, which were left to dangle in the river water. Gross.

Skizz ended up crossing his arms on the edge of the cauldron and resting his head o n top, watching Impulse make rough sketches of some of the structures he wanted for the city. Occasionally he’d make a comment or ask a question, but he mostly stayed silent, content to watch this best friend work.

Impulse eventually looked up to see Skizz dozing off. His head was fully rested on his arms, a thin trail of droll running from the corner of his mouth and his wings fully sagging down into the water.

“Hey man, you good?”

The other man didn’t even stir. Odd, since it was usually Impulse that was drained after a stream and Skizz bouncing off the walls.

He pushed himself to his feet, groaning. He really was getting old.

He took off his socks and shoes and stepped into the river to get closer to the cluster of cauldrons.

He gently shook his friend’s shoulders. “Skizzly. Don’t drown on me, bro.”

Still no response, other than a slight turn away from Impulse.

“You are really out of it,” he huffed to himself.

The reckless voice in his head, the one that sounded a lot like Skizz, said to pour water over his head, but he didn’t want to actually drown him. He settled for taking a handful of cool water from one of the other cauldrons and pouring it at the top of his shoulders where his traps met his wings. 

He instantly jumped back and good thing too, the shock of the cold water made Skizz instantly flare out his wings to their full span before he’d even truly woken up. Impulse would have gotten hit by a car covered in brown feathers if he’d stayed where he was.

Skizz yelled incoherently, reaching behind his back, probably thinking someone had put an ice cube down his back.

Impulse started giggling like mad as Skizz continued to get his bearings.

Skizz rounded on him, pointing at him accusingly. “Dipple Dop! Jerkface!”

“Morning, sleepyhead!” He called out. “You weren’t waking up, so I did what I needed to do!”

“Well maybe I wanted to sleep in a cauldron all night!” Skizz countered defensively.

“Sure you did.”

Skizz examined his wings, wiping the grime off one feather between two pinched fingers and grimacing. “Ugh. I didn’t even get the nether dust out of these things. I’m gonna have to kick up a desert trying to get this stuff off.” 

Washing wings was a long and arduous task to do by oneself. Using water was out of the question, because it was impossible to thoroughly clean the backside because even the smallest pair of wings on the server (Grian’s) had a nine foot span. The winged hermits tended to find unorthodox methods to clean, like flapping wildly in a completely bare room to shake off the dust, or resorting to building weird contraptions. No one would forget Zed’s attempt to make a ‘car wash, but for hermits’.

Skizz’s habit was from over a decade ago, back before they’d known even Tango. He would go to a desert and take a massive dust bath, opening the spaces between his feathers as much as he could and lying down, making a sand angel. He’d then go to someplace with more solid ground and shake all the sand out. You could usually see the dust devil from miles away.

It was effective, but it was still a lot of work, and Skizz definitely didn’t have the energy for it. And then he’d be dirty and moody for a few days at least.

“I can help you, if you want.”

Skizz looked at him, blue eyes wide. “You’d do that for me, bro?”

“Course. Otherwise, you’d be leaving red dust all over my city.”

Skizz punched his arm. “You’re such a jerk. Get the brushes and my soap, it’s in a giant green bottle. I’ll start soaking the flight feathers.”

Impulse quickly fetched the bottle Skizz described and then changed into clothes he didn’t mind getting wet. When he returned, Skizz had filled the other cauldrons with water to heat up as he carefully dipped the stiffest feathers into the hottest cauldron to make them less delicate. If any flight feathers snapped, he’d either have to wear the prosthetics or be grounded for weeks. 

Impulse worked on soaking the other wing, taking care to not touch any sensitive spots. Any muscle spasms would have the twelve foot wing knocking him on his butt. They couldn’t even risk Skizz’s laughter triggering a spasm, so they had to work silently.

Soaping up the feathers was a lot easier than soaking them. Years ago, they’d found these giant brushes usually used to clean windows that worked great for scrubbing wings. Skizz would lie on his back, get the front of his wings scrubbed, and repeat on his front. Impulse liked to joke that he was playing curling, armed with the giant broom-brush combo. This step was the main reason why Skizz couldn’t do this by himself.

Rinsing was a step he could participate in, slowly pouring water over the front-facing side of his wings while Impulse did the same on the back. They’d also comb the feathers straight with their fingers to make sure nothing dried crooked. Impulse was very experienced with preening Skizz’s wings after so many years, and had the larger man a trilling mess by the time they were done.

Skizz pulled on his shirt and tucked his wings into giant satin wraps that Cleo had made for him. The two of them hopped on Tyler Swift and made their way back to Magical Mountain. 

Once back at Skizz’s base, Skizz jumped into a hole he’d mined that led into the hollow section of the mountain that he was using to dry his wings. It wasn’t dusty, no one had any builds nearby. Impulse helped get the wraps off Skizz’s wings before standing with him on the little cliff on the cave wall.

Skizz stood facing Impulse with his back to the open cavern. The two men placed their hands on each others shoulders and bent their knees, bracing.

“On three?” At Impulse’s nod, Skizz counted down, and started to flap his wings. They'd developed this technique to dry off Skizz’s wings with Tango’s help. That day had started with Skizz flicking water at their friend with a twitch of his wing and devolved into a lot of experiments to figure out the best way for him to fling water in a spray or with precision.

With every beat of Skizz’s wings, there was a slight hiss as droplets of water hit the cave walls. The hiss was quickly drowned out by the roar of air rushing past their ears. Skizz’s face was screwed up in concentration, fighting every instinct to take off into the cave ceiling. Impulse’s presence also kept him on the ground.

After Impulse saw that barely any water was coming off the wings, he squeezed Skizz’s shoulder, signaling for him to stop.

Skizz slowed his wings, panting and leaning heavily against Impulse. 

“Feeling clean?” Impulse asked, leading the other man by the arm back into the base proper.

“Yeah, I feel loads better. Thanks, Dipple Dop.” He yawned. “Time for beddie-bye.”

Impulse yawned, suddenly feeling bone tired from the nether run and helping Skizz clean up. “Night, bud. I feel like I’m about to pass out, too.”

“Ooh, sleepover!” Skizz exclaimed, clapping his hands. “That is, if you wanna?” He gave Impulse his best puppy-dog eyes. Not that those worked on Impulse, he’d known the other man for much too long.

“Sure.”

Skizz whooped and went to his storage room to fetch one of his many spare mattresses (he tended leave beds everywhere). He returned lugging a twin mattress and a yellow blanket draped over his shoulders. Impulse helped him set it down near Skizz’s own bed and curling up in the large blanket, closing his eyes. Skizz threw a pillow down to him and he took it without opening his eyes and setting it under his neck.

“Goodnight, buddy,” Impulse muttered.

The copper lamp beside Skizz’s bed was extinguished, leaving the two men in a cozy darkness. “Night, bro.”

[wehaveimagineshere]

Hello there, Ren! I absolutely fell in love with your Carlos fic, so I'm here to ask for another one! The prompt I was thinking of is Carlos' s/o (gn preferably) comforting him through PTSD symptoms like a recurring nightmare or a flashback (cuz his backstory is insanely traumatic + the whole RC incident is bound to mess someone up). He's such a sweet guy who deserves more love, and I love the way you write him. I'll definitely be back for more from time to time. You both have a nice day!

Hi Anon! Thank you so much! <3 Carlos deserves so much love and I got so excited seeing another request for him! Yes, please, come back as often as those ideas hit! I can't wait to see you again (:

I hope you have a good day too! And a good week, cause you definitely made mine!

~*~*~

People never quite understand how suddenly things can change.

Movies have a build up, an obvious path from "here" to "there." The little easter eggs, the little foreshadowing, the description on the back of the case. But real life is never so simple.

A five year old could never understand why his mother pulls him from his bed in the middle of the night, tears streaming down her face. Her hushed but frantic whispering that everything would be alright as the door smashes open and hands drag both of them out into the living room.

The men, unfamiliar and smelling of sweat and blood, are just hazy silhouettes in his memories now, in his dreams. Silver moonlight glinting off their guns, mechanisms he'd glimpsed once in his older brother's hands but not knowing the name for at the time, pierce through the dark as more figures drag out the rest of his family.

As they drag out his older brother, who won't go down without a fight.

His dreams can never decide exactly how long that fight lasts. Seconds or minutes, all he knows is the blur of fists, the laughing and tauntings of the strange men, the screaming and pleading of his mother, and that one gunshot.

The gunshot that silences his mother as she wraps her body around his, as if she can hide him from the present, from the pain and confusion it'll bring. She can't cover his ears, though, as the wet thud of his lifeless brother hits the floor.

As the man with the gun aims it at his mother, quiet, dark words spitting from his mouth before he leaves, taking his gang with him.

His mother rocks, his small frame rocking with her, as she sobs into his torn and dirty shirt. As she mutters that signature "It's okay, we'll be okay," her fingers threading through his hair in an attempt to soothe.

A five year old child cannot comprehend death, killing, so he doesn't know to not look. To not peek through the curtain of his mother's hair to the heap on the floor. He doesn't understand why his brother doesn't move, why he--

But he does. It starts with a twitch of the fingers, then a spasm in the arms. Bracing his arms underneath him, his brother jerkily lifts himself up, saliva and blood dripping from his lips. And when he looks up...

It's the eyes of the dead. Milky white, skin ashen and sickly. He knows, then. Some deep, primal part of him knows that he's staring at his reaper, that his mother has no idea their deaths will come in the form of her own son, brought back by the devil himself.

His brother lunges, and he can do nothing as his mother screams, ripped away from him as blood spurts and bodies writhe as she tries to get away, as his brother clamps on with inhuman strength, teeth deep in her throat--

Carlos jerks away, air sawing into his lungs as his eyes dart about. Muscles tight, unsure if he should move or stay, he swings his head--

"Hey," comes a soft whisper. "You're alright, Carlos. You're okay."

"It'll be alright, little Carlos, we'll be okay."

Moving to stand but finding them bound, his shaking hands start yanking at the bindings.

"Carlos. Sweetie. You're in bed. You got tangled up in the blankets. You're okay. You're safe."

"Sweet little Carlos, mommy will protect you, it'll be okay."

The ripping of fabric finally makes him pause, heart slamming against his ribcage.

"Carlos. It was a dream. Just a dream. We're in bed, the doors are locked, it's just you and me."

Curling in on himself, he tries to focus on his breathing, to try not to hyperventilate.

You help walk him through it.

"Deep inhale through your nose, honey. Count to five. One. Two. Three. Four. Release. There you go. One more time. One. Two."

He follows your instructions the best he's able, clinging to the soothing sound of your voice, clinging to each count and exhale, and slowly, oh so slowly, the death grip on the ripped comforter relaxes.

"There you go. I have some water. Do you want some?"

It takes him a few seconds to nod.

"Alright. It's a glass. It's a little cool to the touch."

Shifting so he's facing you, the glass in your hand outstretched, he takes it and swallows deeply, not realizing how hot he is until the cold water slides down his chest, shocking his senses.

He puts the cool glass up against his sweat slicked forehead.

"It should be about three in the morning right now," you continue, feet tucked underneath you. "I turned on the light in the hallway and drew the right side of our curtains. I also got some towels."

Setting down the glass on his bedside table, he turns back to a hand towel laid neatly in front of your knees. Absently he reaches for it, dragging it across his brow.

"I can wet one or two if you need. Just let me know."

Exhaling, he finally attempts his voice. "I'm alright."

Deep, gravelly, haunted. He barely even recognizes it.

"I know, it's okay."

Lowering the towel, he holds out a hand, one you gingerly take. Tugging you close, he rests his forehead against the crook of your neck and inhales, the familiar, soothing scent of you wrapping around his heart.

"May I run my fingers through your hair?"

He nods. "I'm alright," he says again against your skin, the words a little more stable.

"Okay." You start at the base of his neck and run up, catching the small knots in his hair and gently working them out, nails softly scratching his scalp.

He practically melts, an arm snaking around your waist to draw you onto his lap. Wrapping your free hand around him, you rest your head against his as you keep threading your fingers through his hair, not caring how drenched in sweat he is.

Sweat can be washed off.

"When I say I'm the reason you never get any sleep," you hear him say, "I don't mean like this."

You huff a chuckle. "Nobody needs to know that. It'll remain our little secret."

There's an uncertain pause. "Thank you."

"Carlos. I told you I'd always be here for you, and I meant it." You kiss his temple. "I always mean it."

"I know. I just..." He squeezes you tight for just a moment.

You squeeze back. "We've all got our monsters under the bed. Some are just bigger than others. And thankfully, we share a bed now."

His lips brush your shoulder as he smiles. Lifting his head to place a kiss on your forehead, he moves down to your cheek, then captures your mouth.

It's soft and sweet, the kiss, the thank you that Carlos could never fully put into words. He pulls away for just a moment, to look into the eyes that have saved him time and time again, before drawing you in once more.

You place a hand against his cheek as he pulls away again, a palm he nuzzles into. The smile that blooms across your lips squeezes his heart, once again reminded of how lucky he is to hold you, kiss you, call you his.

"Think you'll be able to sleep?" you ask, the movement of your lips distracting.

"Not for a while," he replies.

"Well, we have more of that show we were watching."

He dips to your lips again and murmurs against them, "We're already in bed."

Your mouth quirk and you pull back to give him a look. "At the very least, you need to wipe all this sweat off."

The sly smirk that finds its way onto his lips feels right, a little more himself. "Just so you can get me all sweaty again?"

"So I know you're sweaty because of me," you respond without a beat, a playful grin brightening your face as you reach for a towel and smoosh his face in it.

"A cruel Majesty you are," comes the faux hurt muffled reply.

You kiss what you can only guess is his nose through the towel. "You love me though."

"I do."

Releasing the towel, your smile softens as you see the look on his face. The openness only you're allowed to witness. "Love you too, big guy."

[notquiteascrazy]

Maybe this is it?

(Read on AO3)

It starts with standing just a little bit closer on calls. Their arms bump as they walk. Then the touches start to linger. A hand on an arm for a moment longer than necessary. A brush of fingers that becomes a bit more than that. Soon it’s their knees pressing against each other on a definitely big enough couch as they drink beer and watch a movie. All of it is a perfectly natural escalation of their friendship. They’re just that close. They’re partners.

The first time Buck brushes Eddie’s hair back it’s because his hands are busy coiling the hoses after a particularly gruelling job. He can hear the little huffs of breath as Eddie tries to blow the strands tickling at his eyes out of the way but it’s clearly futile. They’ve talked a lot about how they’re both long overdue haircuts but B shift is running a skeleton crew right now after an incident at a five-alarm fire and so everyone’s been pulling double shifts for weeks. There’s just no time.

So Buck does the only natural thing a friend would do in those circumstances and reaches out to brush Eddie’s hair back, out of his face. The contented sigh that Eddie releases creates a burst of warmth in Buck that sits with him all day. After that, it becomes natural to reach out and tuck the longer locks back for Eddie and see that warm smile that fills him with joy.

Even after they finally get their hair cuts, the gentle touches remain. Buck realises that after tough calls – particularly those involving kids – Eddie likes his hair being stroked. It soothes him. All it takes is a couple of seconds before the tension practically bleeds out of Eddie. His shoulders melt from hunched-up knots to gentle slopes as Buck rakes his fingers through his best friend’s hair.

No one ever questions it or really comments. The 118 is good like that. They’re progressive. They understand that male friendship doesn’t have to be toxic bullshit, it can be gentle and affirming. Buck feels his own personal growth deep in his soul. He knows how far he’s come from his 1.0 days and if he wasn’t proud enough of himself, the looks he sometimes catches Bobby giving, when he thinks Buck can’t see, would reassure him that he’s found his place in this world.

The memories of the lightning strike eventually fade. Doctor Copeland helps a lot. Buck works through the trauma and the confusion of the alternate reality he experienced while in his coma. And over time, those memories fade. He still occasionally wakes up in a cold sweat and has to text Bobby just to reassure himself that his Captain is still there, and is still alive. But those occasions become more and more infrequent.

What he’s not been able to shake is the empty memory of knowing Eddie didn’t exist in that universe. Sure, Buck barely existed ��� not in the life they’ve built together, at least – but Eddie? Pure and good Eddie. A man who tried his damned hardest, who loved unconditionally? He was nowhere to be seen. There’d been Hen and Chim, Maddie (ignoring the horrifying presence of Doug)... So many people Buck loved. But no Eddie.

Buck has come close to facing that reality on more occasions than he cares to count. Their jobs are dangerous and he knows every day there is a chance that one of them might not make it back from some of the worst calls. But that’s a hypothetical here. In this reality, Eddie will always make it back because Buck will always have his back. Buck will always put Eddie’s life before his own. No matter what Eddie says to the contrary. No amount of ‘Because, Evan’s will change that.

And so maybe they get even closer. Sitting in each other’s personal space is no longer enough, no matter how much of Eddie’s warmth Buck can feel as they press side by side. Instead, movie nights become Buck curled into Eddie’s side. His head against Eddie’s chest and the reassuring thump of Eddie’s heart beating in his ear. This way he knows Eddie is real. This way he knows he’s alive.

He thinks Eddie feels it too. The way Eddie’s hand curls protectively against his neck. His fingers pressed just delicately against Buck’s pulse point. It would not be noticeable if it was anyone but Buck. But Buck knows Eddie intrinsically. He’s familiar with every plane of his body. With every micro-expression. With every press of his fingers. He knows that gentle touch against his carotid is Eddie’s way of reassuring himself that Buck came back to him.

It’s that feeling of being so overly protected that makes Buck twist his head slightly and press his lips over Eddie’s heart where it beats steadily under his ribcage. A silent thanks and an almost prayer that it never-ever stops beating. That it’s reassuring thump continues to keep rhythm. To keep Eddie. Eddie’s hand at his neck presses firmer, just for a moment. It’s imperceptible really but Buck senses it – he knows Eddie understands. They don’t ever talk about ‘it’... About the trauma. They both process in their own ways. But they both move ever closer.

Buck’s shaking. His entire body is coiled tight with anxiety and every muscle spasming involuntarily. He hates calls going wrong. But particularly the ones where he’s right there. Where he could have done something. Ran a little bit quicker. Reached a little bit further. Been standing slightly to the left. Anything. Anything that would have saved that mom’s life. As it was, her two kids were going to grow up never knowing her. And it was Buck’s fault. He knew it was. If he’d just been enough. If he’d just been better.

He goes home on autopilot. He stands under the shower until the scalding water turns icy; until his flesh feels like it might peel away from his bones. It’s not enough. It can’t wash away the feeling of smoke cloying at his skin. Or the knowledge that he just wasn’t good enough. That he hadn’t tried hard enough.

He makes himself a sandwich because he knows he should eat, even if the food tastes like ash in his mouth. He knows he needs his strength if he’s to try again tomorrow. To seek atonement, or redemption or whatever. To make it right and resettle the balance by saving the next person. By being enough next time. 

There’s a scrape of a key in the lock but Buck doesn’t look up. He can’t lift his head or turn to the door. It doesn’t matter. Only one person has a key anyway. And he’ll understand. There won’t be any expectations from his partner. Because Eddie will know how empty and cold Buck feels. He was there to see every moment of Buck’s failure. To watch as the woman, as Carol, slipped right through Buck’s grasp. And Eddie won’t judge him. He won’t love him any less. But he’ll understand that Buck wasn’t enough for Carol. But he’s there to tell Buck that he is still worthy.

A warm hand presses against his neck, fingers fluttering over his pulse point and thumb rubbing gently at the ridges of Buck’s vertebra. Buck knows he doesn’t deserve to be cared for like this, not when he’s let so many people down, but he feels himself relax into the touch. He feels his blood pump that little bit stronger through his veins. His extremities warming by just a few degrees but enough to make him feel a little bit less like a ghost.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t move closer but he doesn’t move away. He just stands with his hand a grounding weight against Buck’s neck until Buck is ready to lean back into the touch to press his back against Eddie’s torso and to feel the support of his partner holding him up.

And if Eddie presses a soft kiss to Buck’s hairline? And if Buck’s heart leaps into his throat at the press of lips to his still too-cold skin? And if he feels the blood rush to his face, chasing the high of Eddie’s lips? What of it? It’s just another evolution in their ever-shifting friendship. Another redefining of their boundaries.

Buck’s stopped dating. So has Eddie. Neither of them really have the time. Between work, and Christopher, and each other. They never really talk about it. It’s barely a conscious choice. They just choose to be content with each other. With that being enough. And on days when Buck feels so touch starved he’s not even sure if he’s actually a real, living human, there’s always Eddie there to hold him until he comes back to his body again with whispered reassurances and the delicate press of fingers to pulse points and lips to cheeks.

No one else will ever get it, is the problem. No one understands the need to do good in the world, the drive to help people and the adrenaline that comes with putting your life on the line for another human being. And the feeling of abject devastation when it all goes wrong. No one except another first responder. So Buck learns to rely solely on Eddie, and Eddie on Buck.

The rest of the 118 have families to go home to. Chim has Jee and Maddie to remind him of all the good in the world. Hen has Karen and an ever-growing brood of found family that they’re growing together. Bobby has Athena. And Buck? Buck has Christopher and Eddie. They’re an almost inseparable trio at this point. Buck can’t remember the last meal he ate alone. The last evening that wasn’t punctuated by some form of ‘But, Daaaaad’ pleas – be it about homework or bedtime… And so his life feels complete in a way no relationship has ever made him feel. Even on the bleakest days, he knows he’ll find at least a small sliver of sunshine. Be it in Eddie’s touch or Christopher’s wide grins.

Maybe this is it? Maybe this is all he needs. His partner and his partner’s kid fill that hole in his heart and make everything feel real again. That bone-deep sense of contentment and peace that he finds nowhere else. That ability to finally switch his brain off and slow down. This is what he’s been unknowingly searching for his whole life. This is what it’s supposed to feel like. To feel unconditionally loved, and needed, and wanted, and protected, and necessary. To feel like there’s always somewhere there, no matter what. The highs. The lows. The everythings in between.

This is it, right?!

[malarkgirlypop]

BoB dance moves while drunk

inspired by that one post of how they would act when drunk from @contrabandhothead

Dick Winters:

Is a sucker for a slow dance, tries to wrangle anyone onto the dance floor with him but mostly Nix who doesn't like slow dancing. Is very huggy and will whisper unintelligible things in your ear while dancing. Will give you that very drunk I love you smile when he pulls away.

Lewis Nixon:

Does not dance, will not dance. But can sometimes be convinced by Dick if he is drunk enough. Rather would sing loudly while sitting down.

Ronald Speirs:

When very intoxicated will boogie, he is the one who will just stand in the middle of the dance floor and jump up and down. While trying to sing the song but he doesn't know the lyrics so he drunkenly sings nonsense at you. Goes from one group to the next. If dancing in a circle he will jump in the middle and bust a move before disappearing. Lip will sometimes have to wrangle him away from people cause he is interfering with their night.

Carwood Lipton:

Is a shy dancer will tap his foot and bob his head to the beat, but spends most of the night trying to contain the very excitable Ron, who is a loose unit on the floor if not supervised. Is always excusing himself to go and get Ron.

Harry Welsh:

Is too drunk to stand, but he can party lying down! Wants to dance with Kitty but can't find her. Would probably pull out moves such as the sprinkler and pushing the trolley.

George Luz:

Does the most bizarre moves you have ever seen. Has his own style called the George. Will spin you round and then need to sit down immediately cause he is going to throw up. Back out onto the floor once he has recovered, him and Ron together are a fucking nightmare, as they harasses innocent bystanders to dance with them. Will high-five you if you get too close, but does the fakeout of "High-five, dolphin dive."

Joe Toye:

Is the best dancer when drunk, like professionally good, but will only dance if very inebriated. Likes to people watch and laugh at the chaos that is George. Will lean and drink and shoo Luz away when he asks him to go and dance. Saying "I will when I finish this drink." But then orders another one so that he can use the same line.

Bill Guarnere:

Dance fights! "you want a piece of me?" then does very complicated footwork. Light on his feet. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Aggressive dance moves when drunk, will shake you with force if he gets a hold of you. Sings loudly as he dances. Always has the best night.

Joe Liebgott:

Crumps aggressively, somehow is very good a twerking. Knows how to pop that puss. Does that dance move when you hold your leg up and then have the other hand on your head and jump around (idk how to explain this move, but I see it in my head). Will try and incite a dance battle. Always the centre of attention. Likes it that way.

David Webster:

Dances like a basic white girl. Feeling himself up. Is a very weirdly sensual dancer. Kinda gets him going. Will say this is my favourite song to every basic pop song that comes on. Still doesn't know the words though.

Buck Compton:

Will aggressively do the hoe down throw down and somehow has whole choreographed dances to the songs. You will never see him do the same move twice. By the end of the night he has taken off all of his clothes and is drenched in sweat.

Eugene Roe:

Is a modest dancer. Will just nod along while lip-sinking. Will have a confused face on but when people ask him if he is ok just grins at them nodding. Is always looking for Babe.

Babe Heffron:

Manages to integrate himself into a group of people he isn't with for the night, teaches them his signature move that is the dougie. Will pester the person playing the music for the song that goes with the dance so that he can do it all for them. Normally gets his way and does the whole dougie in the middle of the dance circle while people cheer him on. He eats it up every time and brags about it later.

Skip Muck:

Does classic dance moves with Alex. Likes to dance with another person so he has a buddy to shimmey into and then shimmey back. Will do spins with Alex and always does it way too aggressively and sends Alex flying across the floor to crash into people like a bowling ball.

Alex Penkala:

The most clumsy dancer when drunk. Will fall over nothing, Skip does not help either, somehow always managing to push over his friend by accident. Alex is like a fucking bouncy ball and is up on his feet in seconds. Will wake up the next day covered in bruises and is unsure of how he got them.

Donald Malarkey:

Gains the confidence of a professional dancer and believes it, but is totally not. Will totally do that thing where you move your chest up and down and get people to move their hands over him to make it look cool. Likes the song get low, as he likes the part where it goes low, low, low, low so he can do his matrix back bend. Get's worse the more he gets drunk.

Frank Perconte:

Is a fucking B-boy and will break it down, somehow can do head stands and that thing where you spin around on your head, and that one move where you are lying on the ground and push yourself to your feet.

Johnny Martin:

Is a fucking wild card. Some nights he will chill and then others he is breaking it down on the dance floor. It mostly depends on the liquor he is drinking, if it's spirits you're in for a crazy night.

Bull Randleman:

Will line dance to any song, you can't tell him other wise. Does that lasso move to Perconte and lasso's him onto the dance floor, Frank loves it. Will do Gangnam style if drunk enough and will tell you every time his favourite part is the move where you look like you are riding a horse.

[melminli]

Lost And Never Found

pairing - avengers x female reader

summery - from time to time, things in the avengers tower disappear out of nowhere

"Okay folks, this is getting ridiculous. Who's stealing my toothbrushes?" Steve asked, annoyed as he entered the living room. "This is the third time in two weeks, and I know it was one of you."

Sam looked at him a little confused. "Those are some serious accusations you're throwing out there." He joked before turning sincere. "What are we even supposed to do with your used toothbrushes, though? You sure that you didn't just misplaced them?"

Before he could respond, Steve took a deep breath and massaged his forehead. "No. It's not like I'm doing a marathon around the tower with my toothbrush that I could put it anywhere but in the bathroom." He pointed a finger at the people in the room. "One of you took it." He pronounced, his tone showed that he was not to be convinced.

Tony rolled his eyes after taking a sip of his coffee. "What advantage should we get from your used toothbrushes, Cap? We're not perverts."

In response, the super soldier raised an eyebrow challengingly. "I don't know. Are you?"

A series of sighs rang out from the people present in the room. "It's just a toothbrush, Steve." Bucky said, shrugging his shoulders. "It's not a big deal."

"No." He replied. "It's the principle. You shouldn't take other people's property."

Of course. It's always some principle.

Wait a second. A certain billionaire suddenly remembered something at the current topic. "You know, while we're on the subject of mysterious disappearing toothbrushes, I'm missing two pairs of sunglasses." Tony threw the information into the room to see if a motive could be discerned.

"Hmm. Come to think of it, I'm missing a couple of shirts, but I always thought they got lost in the wash somehow." Bucky answered.

Sam nodded. "I haven't found my cologne once or twice, but I thought it would show up on its own. Don't think that's going to happen anymore."

Now, that was a little unexpected. When the others talked about it like that, it felt less like a coincidence and more like all these things were connected with each other. "So what? We have a thief among us who steals useless stuff?" asked Sam. It sounded a little absurd when spoken out loud.

You entered the room somewhat abruptly in the middle of the conversation. It was too much of a coincidence seeing you walk in after that statement so the others might or might not think that it was a bit suspicious.

"What's up, guys?" You asked as you looked at your phone and plopped down on the couch. You didn't notice the tense mood until you didn't hear a response and looked up to see all eyes on you. "Is something wrong?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow as he asked you. "Are you missing anything lately? Like toothbrushes or sunglasses...or anthing like that?"

You wouldn't lie. Your heart stopped beating for a second. This was kind of a sticky situation you got yourself in since you didn't work well under pressure. "Oh yeah, totally! Uhm...I miss -" your eyes subtly peeked around, stopping in the open kitchen on the other side of the room. "- my microwave."

You said worse things in the past.

"Your microwave?" Tony repeated with a certain undertone that said - at this point, you can just admit it.

"...yeah."

Tony spoke your name warningly, which made you sweat a little. You instinctively searched for escape exits, but the only one you could see was the door where Steve stood, looking at you with his Captain America eyes. Yeah, you didn't think you were going to survive that. Your eyes then looked at the windows, but even then, your succes rate of escaping wasn't exactly high if you considered that you wanted to get out alive. "So no one wants to ask me how school was?" You finally asked.

"Don't change the subject. Also, what are you? Five?" Tony responded without any mercy.

You rolled your eyes. "Alright, I may have taken some of your stuff...you happy now?" You admitted.

A grin graced Tony's face. "I'm always happy when it turns out that I was right. So yeah I feel pretty good right now."

"Well, technically Steve was right. Besides, you too were first against the idea that it was one of us." said Sam.

Now, on any other day, Tony would let this one slide with a sarcastic laugh, but this was about Steve. On top of that, he felt a bit petty today. "The we was referring to as in we the Avengers. The good people." Defended Tony. "You know because...heroes don't steal and stuff or whatever."

"Oh, come on." Groaned Sam. "Don't throw her under the bus like that. How far are you gonna go just to prove that you're right?"

"You don't want to know how far I'll go, bird man."

Steve clapped loudly once to draw attention to himself. "Can we please focus on the situation at hand?" He asked, looking to you.

You shook your head slightly. "I'm fine. You two can keep talking."

Steve ignored that statement and got straight to the point. "Why are you taking our personal stuff? What are you even doing with it?" He finally asked the question that was secretly on everyone's mind.

"Well..." You began laughing a little nervously while avoiding eye contact. "...I kinda sell it online on eBay?"

It took him a second to process that.

"You're selling my used toothbrushes to random people?!"

You pointed your index finger in the air to correct him. "No. I sell Captain America's used toothbrushes to random people. It's hard to believe, but there are some guys out there who pay an insane amount of money for these things." You told him and then remembered how that man wasn't from this century, so he must be a bit weirded out by that information. More than the normal amount.

Tony challenged you in a sarcastic tone. "Maybe as much as I paid for those expensive sunglasses?"

You looked at him judgmentally. "I think you will be fine, Mr. Capitalist."

You had explained it, but Bucky still didn't understand what was going on. "I guess i can understand some shirts and stuff, but the used toothbrushes kinda freak me out if I am being honest. Like, what are they gonna do with them?"

You shrugged. You thought about it yourself every now and then, but not too much so that your morals couldn't keep you from making money. "I don't know. Maybe a new super soldier from the DNA of the left saliva on it? Oh! Or maybe it's some fangirl hoping for an indirect kiss or even better -"

"Okay, that's enough." Steve stopped you before you could elaborate further, trying to keep you from saying something he'd be mulling over for the next few days. He knew that some people could do disturbing things, but he could block it out as long as you didn't say it out loud. "Why am I hoping that it's the first?" He muttered, slightly disappointed in himself.

After that question was answered, a new question opened up in Sam's mind. "What do you need all that damn money for anyway that you're willing to reach for such extreme measures?" He asked, still slightly in shock from the revelation.

You shrugged your shoulders. "Lady Gaga is going on tour and concert tickets are fucking expensive these days." You answered casually. "Might as well get the best view while I am at it."

Teenagers really are relentless these days. None of them said it out loud because they didn't really have to at this point.

Tony asked, a little confused. "You know you could have just asked me if you wanted some money, right?" And stated the obvious.

"Not to be dramatic or anything." You began with a serious tone. "But I'd rather die than do that. Asking others for help...is so embarrassing."

"And stealing is not?"

"Well, it wouldn't be." You stated and then added. "If you guys hadn't figured it out."

There was no need to go further into this aspect, which is why Steve stopped you. "We are not having this conversation again."

"Well, how about you all stop acting like you seriously cared about these little things because I'm gonna cry if you keep going! Four men against a defenseless little girl. Is that what the Avengers are doing these days? Make little girls cry?" You asked in a serious voice and could see their strong demeanor crumble at your words. You didn't feel bad about making them feel guilty since you did feel like crying at the moment.

Steve tried to argue against it. "You gave the exact same speech the last time you were in trouble."

You crossed your arms challengingly. "So what?"

His argument was invalidated. Silence followed for a few seconds until the men finally sighed simultaneously.

They shouldn't let you get away with these things so easily. They really shouldn't, but somehow they still always did.

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS ZERO Animate Tokuten Drama CD “A Vampire’s Late Night Snack Terror” [Ayato ver.]

Original title: 夜更かしヴァンパイアの食テロ飯 [アヤト編]

Source: Diabolik Lovers ZERO Vol. 1 Animate Tokuten CD

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Midorikawa Hikaru

Translator’s note: I’m pretty sure that all of us already knew beforehand that Ayato’s late-night snack would be takoyaki. I’m starting to think that he could probably go longer without drinking blood, than go without eating takoyaki. Which makes me wonder which person at Rejet came up with his favorite food because it is a little random. While takoyaki is definitely eaten in Japan, I feel like it’s mostly a festival food and not something people actually eat all that often or cook at home most of the time. Then again, all of the boys have really random favorite foods...The only one ‘fitting’ ones being Azusa (likes the pain of the heat) and Carla (fancy food for a fancy boy). 

Ayato stumbles into the kitchen.

“Ugh...Uu...Uhn...”

*Rustle rustle*

You rush over to Ayato’s side to support him.

“Ah...Chichinashi, is that you? So you were awake...? I’m afraid it might be over for me...I’ll go absolutely insane at this point!”

You ask him what is wrong.

“Two weeks...I haven’t eaten any takoyaki for a whole two weeks...!!”

You blink in confusion.

“You know...! I’m sure you remember how our takoyaki grill got wrecked two weeks ago as well, right!? I will never forgive Subaru for being responsible for it...But you know, that’s not all! Laito is partially to blame as well for provokin’ him, as well as Kanato for throwing a tantrum. Even Reiji can be held responsible for not stoppin’ him in time...! And Shuu too...Ah, well, he was asleep at the time but I’m just so pissed off, all of them are at fault! ...Right!?”

You frown.

“Say...You agree with me, don’t you? ...As a result, I can’t enjoy my late-night takoyaki! Of course the store selling them just happens to be on vacation right now...But what am I supposed to do!?”

You offer to make him some.

“Haah...!? You can make them? Even without a takoyaki grill?”

You nod.

*Rustle*

“Really!? Way to go, Chichinashi! In that case, let’s get straight to it!”

*TIMESKIP*

*Clatter clatter*

“You’ve got a bunch of things laid out but...Can you make takoyaki with this?”

*Thud*

You ask for his help.

“Che...Guess I have no other choice. I’ll lend you a hand for once. So...What do we have to do?”

*Thud*

“Flour? Let me see...Oh well, whatever. They’re all the same, right?”

Ayato pours in what he believes to be flour as you try to stop him.

“Ah? What’s wrong?”

You explain. 

“Potato starch? They’re both powders, so don’t sweat the details.”

He continues to pour in different ingredients.

“I poured in a whole bunch of everything! This should be enough, right?”

You tell him off.

“Oh shut up. ‘You’re using the wrong powder’ ‘The measurements are wrong��, stop telling me what to do!” 

You sigh and tell him that you won’t be able to make takoyaki like this.

“...Fine! I’ll follow your intructions...Come on, give me a different bowl. And the flour as well.”

Ayato tries again.

*Rustle rustle* 

“Five tablespoons of flour you said, right? One...two...”

He puts in five tablespoons.

“I guess this should do.”

You give him the next instructions.

“The eggs go in next? One egg then thin it out to the right consistency with some water...”

*Crack*

*Pshh*

“Like this? Anyway...How are things going over on your end?”

*Chop chop chop*

“Heeh...Judging from the ingredients, you’ve made pretty smooth progress. Chopped up green onions and pickled ginger and...Oi...Didn’t you go a little overboard with the amount of boiled octopus?”

You tell him that having a little extra won’t hurt.

“I mean, having some extra never hurts...That’s obvious but...You’re the one who said that the exact measurements are important, right? Don’t you think the tentacles will stick out of the takoyaki if you try to put too much inside?”

You try to defend your case.

“I don’t understand which measurements are important and which ones aren’t...You really like to push your opinion about the strangest things, huh? ...Oh well, whatever. What do I have to do with this?”

You explain.

“Oh, I see! I gotta dump everything except the octopus inside the bowl, right? Leave the mixing up to me! I’m good at this sorta thing!”

Ayato starts whisking the batter aggressively.

*Cling cling cling*

“Hm, hm, hm...!”

*Cling cling*

“Heh! How’s that?”

*Sparkle*

You seem impressed. 

“It’s been mixed to perfection, no? I don’t think you’ll find anyone else who’d do as good of a job as me!”

You tell him that he did great.

“That’s it? Praise me some more! I did an amazing job after all!”

*Clap clap clap*

“Right? As to be expected of me! I’m starting to really get into the groove now! What should I do next?”

*Cling cling*

“...Hah? Hey...That’s the rectangular frying pan we use to make tamagoyaki (1) Why did you get it out?”

You explain while turning on the stove.

“Haah!? You’re going to make them in there? Even though it’s rectangular? It isn’t real takoyaki unless it’s round! You deceived me, didn’t you!?”

You promise that it will turn out fine.

“It’s not ‘fine’ at all! ...Ah! I can’t believe you dumped all of the batter in there! You’re putting on way too much octopus as well! ...You’ll start folding it from underneath? ...No matter how you look at it, that’s just a stuffed omelette. I’m seriously going to have to eat this?”

*TIMESKIP*

*Dun dun*

“...The non-round takoyaki is done. Even though you put takoyaki sauce and mayonaise on top, it doesn’t look like the real deal at all.”

You cut it up into pieces.

“Wait, oi! If you cut it up like that, it’ll only look even more square! ...Honestly, you might as well call it okonomiyaki (2) at this point.”

You urge him to give it a try. 

“Haah...Fine, fine. I just have to give it a try, right? Geez...”

Ayato takes a chance.

*Nom nom*

“...!! ...It’s delicious! It actually tastes like proper takoyaki! Also...even though the exterior is cripy, the inside is soft and fluffy! There’s several thin layers of batter stacked on top because you rolled it up like an omelette. It really hits you with that punch of savoriness! Also, when you bite into it...”

*Chomp*

“The texture is out of this world because of all the octopus stuffed inside! ...Mmh! Coming from you, this is pretty impressive! Come on, I’ll let you have some as well. ...Say ‘ahn’ー”

You tell him it’s fine.

“What? Who cares if you already ate something before going to bed. Besides, don’t think I haven’t realized...You’ve been dying to try some this whole time, haven’t you? You won’t sound very convincing if you try to deny it when you’ve got that yearning look in your eyes. Just give in to your own desires. Come on... ‘Aahn’ー”

*Chomp*

“Hehe! So you did want some after all! You look hella ugly while stuffing your face like that.”

You freak out.

“I’m joking. Come on, hurry up and swallow it. I’m in a good mood tonight, so I wouldn’t mind sharing some more with you.”

You raise a brow.

“Yeah! I finally got to enjoy some takoyaki after a long time! So this is your reward! Besides...cooking together was kinda fun.”

You smile.

“Why do you seem so happy? Come on...Let’s hurry up and finish this before somebody finds us. What happened here tonight will stay between us.”

ーー THE END ーー

Translation notes

(1) Tamagoyaki is a Japanese rolled omelette. It’s traditinoally made into a rectangular pan. 

(2) Okonomiyaki is a savory pancake made on the spot on a hot grill. You get the raw batter and several ingredients (meats/vegetables/etc.) to put inside and you can customize it to your own liking.