#but she fell on the sidewalk. broke an arm and had a lot of injuries to her face . and probably chest? i dont know

[july-19th-club]

the last book grandma ever read was agatha christie's "murder on the orient express," which was also the first book my mother remembers getting from her as a gift and not a hand-me-down from her siblings.

one of her favorite 'isms' was 'all things in moderation,' but she also had a plaque in the kitchen when my aunts were growing up that read "you have to kiss a lot of horny toads before you find a prince" and another tchotchke that featured a cherub swinging on a length of twine that said "when you reach the end of your rope, tie a knot and HANG ON." like every nonna on earth before her, she ushered us to dinner with a "mangia" - which was also what it said on her favorite apron.

the last picture taken of her was her first picture with her great-granddaughter ellie, who's two months old and named after her. it was the first and only time they met.

[aggressivelyclueless]

mutant

in which the ghost boy starts lookin’ the part, just in time for the holiday

contains: spooky ghost horror

warnings: ectoplasm/injury/body horror

"Danny?"

The fight hadn't been pretty.  Sam didn't see much of it, at least not soon enough to be any help; when Danny went after something, he was all over the place, and the only trace she could get on him by that point was a blood trail.  That was what led her to the condemned Blockbuster on Seventh Street: smears of glowing acrid lime across the sidewalk and shattered front door told her he was hurting.

Especially lately, he’d been hurting a lot.  Distracted, he said, trying to shrug it off every time, but that was only half of it.  It would come out of the blue sometimes, he said, and he didn’t know why.  He’d told her once, months ago, that he tended to bleed more than he hurt.

Sam wondered if that was really true.

Sure enough, this time he’d landed himself behind the moldering remains of a line of cash registers (at least he was still in-it enough to find a secluded place to hide).  He shrank back when she put the beam of the flashlight on him, half-sitting amidst a splattering mess, head down, ghostly tail strewn crookedly beside him.  One hand was clamped down over the wound between his ribs.

He didn't say a word as she dropped to her knees beside him.  She set the flashlight down on the floor, its beam cutting through slices of grunge and oily stuck-down dust where the fixtures once stood, and slid the backpack off her shoulders.  "Hang in there, okay?  I know I've got those bandages in here. . . some. . . where. . . "

Her eyes were on the wound in Danny's side.  The bleeding had quit, or perhaps it hadn't; all she could tell was that the hand over it, normally gloved in white, had sunken into shadow.  It was an inkier, truer black than the body of his suit, eating up the glow of the ectoplasm staining him.

And it was slowly spreading outward.

"Danny," Sam whispered, suddenly aware that he hadn't said a thing to her, hadn't even looked up when she'd found him.  "Danny, something's wrong, come on, say something, please just talk to me - "

His free hand shot out and found the side of her arm, and Sam froze, her breath catching in her throat.  He knew he'd scared her; his touch softened, although still as cold as ice, and he ran the ball of his thumb back and forth across the fleece of her hoody in a gesture of reassurance.  He gave it a slight squeeze as the shadows crept higher, overtaking the corner of his collar and obscuring him as if through a heavy smoke.  Underneath it, his thinning frame had begun to jerk and twitch, and when he pried the hand off his side, the fingers were crooked and angular.

At last he met her eyes, not with green but a blazing, Octobery orange, and she saw why he hadn't spoken to her.

Stitches of murky shadow had sewn his mouth shut.

Sam was aghast.  "Who did this. . . ?"

Danny shook his head, both hands on her shoulders now.  He had to be hurting - he couldn’t not be, but he was good at hiding it, and the ghostly tail beside him twisted sharply as he shifted to sit a little better.  Inky darkness consumed it, bleeding across angled coils an inch at a time, and one thin line of shadow snaked up the side of his face.

There was nothing Sam could do - nothing except watch, and so she did.  She watched the shadows eat him up until he was a pool of slowly-churning smoke.  All that was left were those eyes, and even then they weren't his eyes staring back at her.  At that moment, he could have been a completely different ghost.

Part of her wanted to think that he was.

His hands were still on her but any substance to them was gone.  When he took them back, they were longer and spindlier than they had any right to be, and when he rose off the floor, the body hidden in shadow was wire-thin.

Finally, with a deliberate motion that stretched and tore whatever skin he still possessed, his mouth broke open into a glowing, jagged-toothed maw.  He looked down at her.

Sam's mind spun.  Was that still even Danny inside?  If it wasn't - something told her it was too late to run.

But Danny held out a hand for her; unable not to, she took it, and he pulled her gently to her feet.

Finding any words at all was an effort.  "What. . . what happened to you. . . ?"  An absurd question, considering she had witnessed it all.

Those auburn eyes - his eyes - fell.

"I don't know," he said, with that mutated and grinning mouth, "except that it’s right.  I can't explain it.  But please trust me.  It's okay."

He gave her hand a slight squeeze.

"It doesn't hurt anymore."

[whumpmatsus]

Hi! 👋 Two things! First, a fic request (again Ichimatsu whump because I'm sorry but I have to): Ichimatsu takes a hit meant for one of his brothers (be it accidental or on purpose) and is pretty badly injured. Cue the rest of the Matsu Bros. to the rescue!

And second, um...would you be okay with it if, let's just say hypothetically, I made fan art of some of these fics? 😺

FIRST OF ALL thank you for this because it's LITERALLY the longest thing I've written on this blog so far!! so I hope u enjoy it fully uwu

Matsu Bros plus a cameo by Mama Matsu!! <3

second... YESSSS THAT IS ALWAYS DEFINITELY OKAY!!! aaaaaaa you flatter me <3 <3 <3

-

When Ichimatsu first wakes up in the hospital, he doesn’t remember why he’s here. Hell, he barely even remembers who he is.

All he really knows initially is that he’s in a lot of pain. It hurts to breathe, his face is kind of numb in spots, and his leg feels weirdly positioned, plus heavy and uncomfortable. His shoulder feels kind of sore… as does his wrist.

There’s also some strange fog drifting around his mind that’s making it difficult to really focus on anything.

He feels a hand in his own. Not very tight… he thinks it’s someone giving just enough pressure to let him know they’re here. That he’s not alone. That’s comforting, he thinks.

Then he starts to remember things.

He was out walking with some of the others; Karamatsu and maybe Totty? What they were doing is a little fuzzy and isn’t coming to him instantly. He just recalls they were together, walking on the sidewalk. They came to a crosswalk and waited their turn. Karamatsu, as the eldest out of the three, stepped forward first to cross.

Ichimatsu thinks Karamatsu’s intention was that he would hold Totty’s hand to keep the youngest safe while they crossed, and Ichimatsu could follow after them. He doesn’t believe Totty had any objections.

They waited. They followed all the rules they were supposed to. The crosswalk light told them they were allowed to go.

It was someone else who broke the rules, tearing through a stop sign, the car headed right for his brothers. He… thinks he remembers Totty had only just come forward to grab Karamatsu’s hand, so he wasn’t quite there yet. Karamatsu was the one in the most danger.

He doesn’t remember much else. Running forward, pushing his baby brother behind him and yelling for his big brother to move.Then an impact. A lot of pain. Black and nothingness and warmth.

Now he’s awake. Putting the pieces together, he’s pretty sure he shoved Karamatsu forward and ended up getting hit by that car.

He thinks, in his haze, that the car should have hit Karamatsu, because he was the one who went first, because things happened so fast. But he’s glad it didn’t happen that way.

A couple groans catch the attention of whoever’s in the room, and he gets a squeeze to the hand. “Ichimatsu? Honey? Are you awake?”

“Mmh…” It hurts a little to move his head. He does it anyway, getting a glimpse of his mother. “… Mom…?”

It looks like she’s smiling… relieved, maybe. “Yes! Yes, my sweet boy, Mama is here.” She reaches her free hand over to gently stroke his hair. It feels nice. “Thank goodness. How do you feel?”

He closes his eyes. “I hurt.”

“Well, I should hope so! I’d be worried if you weren’t in a lot of pain right now. Do you remember what happened?”

Although he tries to move around, it’s difficult simply because it’s so painful. “Uh, yeah, kind of… I got… hit by a car, right? ― H… hey… Karamatsu and Totty… where are they? Are they okay?”

“Yes, dear, they’re both fine. Karamatsu has a couple of scrapes, but nothing serious. You, on the other hand, are lucky, young man. You’ve got a broken leg, a couple of broken ribs, and a broken wrist. You did have a dislocated shoulder, but they got that back into place. The doctor said it could have been much worse. She said you got off easy compared to some people who get hit by a car.”

She combs his bangs back in a way that mitigates any anger or frustration in her next words. “What were you thinking?”

“The car was coming for Karamatsu…” He frowns as the memory surfaces again, in slightly better detail. Damn. “… And Totty didn’t see it… he was gonna step out, too…”

Everything seemed to happen so fast. How the hell did he manage to get his older brother out of the way and keep his younger brother out of the way when everything happened so fast?

Matsuyo sighs and continues stroking his hair. “Oh, I know… they were both in tears when we all arrived. Totty was inconsolable… saying that Karamatsu would be dead if you hadn’t run forward and that he thought you were dead because you weren’t responding. I should be mad that you scared your brothers… but…”

She leans forward to kiss his forehead. “… You did a brave thing, Ichimatsu. Mama is very proud of you. I just don’t like any of you boys hurt… if you’re inclined to do this again, pull the other person back instead of taking their place. You silly boy,” she adds with an affectionate smile.

“Hah…” he laughs weakly, wincing at the pain in his chest. “Sorry, Mom. Everything hurts… I wanna go home.”

“Mhm, they’ll probably let you go pretty soon now that you’re awake. That’s the main thing they were waiting for, I think.” She moves her hand down to pat lightly at his forearm.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be home before you know it, and your family will take good care of you.”

-

Coming home is kind of weird.

Ichimatsu can’t really walk on his own. Since his leg is broken, the doctor gave him a crutch that he can use with his good hand, but it’s an awkward movement and leaves him feeling unbalanced. It’s just easier to lean on one of his brothers to walk ― in this case, Choromatsu has volunteered to help if Ichimatsu needs to walk somewhere. Though… he gets the feeling that the others would be more than happy to volunteer if the third eldest were somehow busy when he needs to get up.

Every motion, from sitting up to reaching for things to just breathing, is painful thanks to the broken ribs. There’s nothing that can really be done for those, so he’s evidently got to just suffer. He remembers the doctor saying they should feel quite a bit better in a couple of weeks. Most of this is going to take a month or more to fully heal, which is… according to Osomatsu, a ‘major boner-killer’.

Sitting around doing nothing but being in pain is going to be the end of Ichimatsu. He’s sure of that. He can’t go outside to feed the cats, and it’s difficult to cuddle with them inside with all his injuries. That alone is pretty depressing.

The pain medication they sent him home with is also a little frustrating. The first time he takes it, it makes him so tired he sleeps right through dinner.

He falls asleep on the couch in the spare room, he knows, because it’s where he has to be set up for now. There’s noway he can sleep in the futon with everyone else while he tries to heal; that runs the risk of running into someone, or having one of his brothers accidentally run into him.

His leg’s in a cast and his wrist is in a splint, to protect them as they fix themselves, but if those areas have someone roll onto them, it’ll probably result in more damage. Which means more pain and more time added to his recovery.

It’s apparently a bad idea to sleep on the couch. When he wakes up, everything is sore and screaming in pain. Justified, unfortunately, since he fell asleep in the same position he was relaxing in.

Someone else… is here? There’s something warm pressed up against his side.

He glances over to find that he’s evidently been resting on Karamatsu’s shoulder, likely for a while given that Karamatsu’s eyes are closed too. It looks dark out, and Ichimatsu’s foggy mind busies itself wondering what time it is.

There’s a soft chuckle beside him, and looking over reveals one of his big brother’s eyes is cracked open now. It’s swiftly followed by the other one, then the sudden absence of a pressure around his shoulder makes him aware that Karamatsu had an arm around him. “Awake, hm?”

“Yeah…” He tries to stretch, stopped short when a jolting pain in his chest reminds him that it’s definitely a bad idea. “Oww. I don’t even remember falling asleep.”

“That’s alright. You started to get a bit drowsy about half an hour after Osomatsu-nii-san gave you your medicine. We saved you a plate from dinner, though, if you want me to go warm it up.”

Ichimatsu blinks. “I slept through dinner?? Shit. How late is it right now?”

His brother shifts a bit more to take out his phone. “Hm… a bit after midnight.”

“Midnight?” Well, fuck. Although he can justify an hour nap or so, he’s just slept like six hours. He missed dinner, he missed going to the bathhouse, he missed maybe a game of cards before bed.

Karamatsu laughs again, his hand tousling Ichimatsu’s hair fondly. “That’s right, my brother. Don’t worry. Osomatsu-nii-san said fatigue is a side effect of your medicine, and your body needs sleep right now, anyway. So, are you hungry? Mommy made soba and yakitori for dinner, but if you’d rather have something else, just say the word. Your wish is my command!”

Honestly… he’s not really that hungry. He knows he should probably eat; his stomach is just trying to tell him not to have anything heavy. Another side effect of the medication, maybe. “Are you… sure? I kind of just feel like plain miso and rice. Other stuff doesn’t sound good.”

“Of course! I’d be delighted to go heat some up. You simply rest and I’ll…” When he goes to stand up, something catches Ichimatsu’s eye, and he grabs his brother’s hand, weakly, with his own injured one. It’s painful, but…

Karamatsu’s eyes focus on his younger brother, brows furrowing. “Ichimatsu? What’s the matter?”

It’s… that cut on Karamatsu’s face. Ichimatsu didn’t notice it before. Now that he’s a bit more alert, it’s practically all he can see. It’s not very big, maybe the length of one of their little fingers, and not deep. It looks like a scrape from falling off one’s bike or something. He thinks maybe it had a bandage on it at one point. The color has faded into something dull; the skin around is still bright pink, though, suggesting that it’s irritated despite not being cut.

His gaze shifts down to find similar wounds on Karamatsu’s hands. On the palms, where he probably got a sort of road rash when he tried to catch himself after Ichimatsu pushed him out of the way.

His own wrist protests with a violent throb as he reaches to let his fingers graze lightly over Karamatsu’s wrist. Image after image of what might have happened to him if Ichimatsu wasn’t fast enough comes unbidden into his head. Karamatsu could be the one with a broken leg or broken ribs, or it could have been worse.

“Y… you’re okay… right?” As soon as those words are out of his mouth, tears start spilling. All at once he’s pulled into a hug, loose fists resting against his back. He can’t stop himself from leaning in, pressing his face against Karamatsu’s shoulder.

He can feel the soft rumble of mirthless laughter his big brother gives. “You’re the one who was hurt, Ichimatsu. I’m only okay because of you. If you hadn’t seen… I wasn’t paying attention…”

The words, “It should have been me”, hang heavily in the air even though Karamatsu doesn’t say them.

He brushes a delicate kiss over the side of his little brother’s forehead. “Heh… you would have been a better big brother than me. You kept us all safe when I failed. You probably saved my life, you know. Thank you.”

Ichimatsu isn’t sure why it’s now that the full weight of everything has hit him. Now, when he’s home and out of danger, when everything is okay. Shouldn’t he have been falling apart when he first woke up in the hospital? It shouldn’t have taken seeing Karamatsu’s small injuries to remind him that they all could have died when he’s the one in a cast.

It’s hard to keep himself together, to keep his breathing normal so he doesn’t completely go to pieces. (Though, if he did, what better place to do so than in his older brother’s arms?) “… You’d do the same for me, right? So it’s only fair.”

“I would,” Karamatsu hums. “Without a second thought. You’re my little brother and I love you very much and if I could save you from being hurt, I would. I’m… sorry I was so careless that I couldn’t do it this time.”

Ichimatsu grunts, slipping his good arm around Karamatsu’s waist in an effort to be closer. “Don’t feel too bad. The next car’ll be yours.”

-

After eating as much as he feels like he can, Ichimatsu allows Karamatsu to help transfer him to the floor. It’s already set up with a spare futon, a blanket, and a pillow, probably because someone guessed that sleeping on the sofa wouldn’t be comfortable.

He’s still in so much pain. The shoulder that was reduced back into place aches like an old war wound, and his chest is sore even when he’s lying still. To say nothing of his wrist and his leg. His whole body feels like one giant bruise, except worse.

Although Karamatsu insists he’d be just fine to stand guard all night, after a few minutes Choromatsu comes in and sends him back to the bedroom. Ichimatsu doesn’t hear too much of the conversation ― mostly whispers that Karamatsu needs to go get some sleep, that Choromatsu is glad to take a turn.

Soon enough, though, Karamatsu relents and comes to tell Ichimatsu goodnight before he leaves the room. Ichimatsu gets one more kiss on the head and a reassuring squeeze to his good hand and exchanges another round of “I love you”s with his brother, then heads into the bedroom.

Choromatsu came prepared, setting his own pillow up on the couch and tossing a blanket at the end just in case he needs it. “So… how are you feeling, Ichimatsu?”

“Mm… like crap, kinda.” He looks over to where his brother is trying to get settled in. “I can’t believe I slept six hours and I’m still tired. What kind of shit did they put me on?”

“Hah… y-yeah, it’s the good stuff, probably. Is it at least helping the pain a little?”

“A little. Like Mom said before we left the hospital, I… guess it’d be more worrying if I wasn’t in pain right now. I did get hit by a car.”

Choromatsu leans forward and places a cautious hand on his little brother’s head. Once that earns him no punishment, he gingerly combs through Ichimatsu’s hair. It certainly feels relaxing. “You sure did. I… I can’t believe you kept both Karamatsu and Totty safe. Adrenaline’s a… a weird thing, huh? I’m glad you’re all okay. Hopefully the pain medicine will work better once you’ve had a few doses.”

“Mh. I hope so.”

“Yeah. For now, just, uh… just try to get some more sleep, okay? Your body needs a lot of rest while you’re healing.”

Yep, that’s what Karamatsu said, too. Two of his brothers saying the same thing can’t be wrong. … Well, they could be, but it would be weird. “I’ll try. Thanks for… being here. I dunno that I’d really want to sleep alone for the whole night. Guess Totty’s rubbing off on me.”

A low chuckle leaves Choromatsu as Ichimatsu closes his eyes. The sound of rustling suggests that his older brother has laid down and pulled a blanket over himself as well.

After a moment of quiet between them, Ichimatsu becomes keenly aware of a sensation that definitely isn’t going to allow him to sleep. “Uuuugh. Shit.”

“Huh?” Choromatsu is sitting up in an instant, ready to practically spring out of his skin. “What’s wrong, Ichimatsu?”

“― My leg itches.”

“O-oh. So… scratch it??”

He throws his head back in frustration. “No, the one with the Goddamn cast on it.”

“Ohhh. Okay, uh, well…” Choromatsu gets up and rummages through one of the drawers for a few seconds.

After that, a pencil is pressed into Ichimatsu’s good hand with a smile. “Here, try this. Stick the eraser end down in the little space between your leg and the cast, then keep moving it. If the itch is high enough up, it should help.”

Ichimatsu raises an eyebrow at the advice. Well. What’s he got to lose, after all? He spends a moment trying to get the itch scratched after slipping the pencil down, and finally he sighs in relief. “Fuck, that’s a lot better. How’d you know that was gonna work?”

Choromatsu grins self-consciously, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Ah, well… remember when I broke my arm? When I went for my checkup, I had this itch inside the cast that was driving me nuts. So the nurse showed me this trick. It doesn’t always work, but…”

“Huh… well… thanks.” After everything, he’s just really tired and ready to sleep now. He would cross his fingers that nothing else disturbs him if he felt like moving at all.

“Heh, no problem. All good now?”

“I think so.” When he sees his brother straighten up to head back to the couch, his brain evidently thinks it’s good to say something. “H… hey. Choromatsu?”

Choromatsu looks back down, concern etched on his features. “Ah, yeah? What’s up?”

His heart is hammering so fast it feels like it’s trying to break more of his ribs. He doesn’t really want to embarrass himself. It’s just… he feels… “Can you… can you… stay for a minute? Down here?”

“Oh… yeah, sure. I can’t stay too long… I-I can’t sleep next to you. I might accidentally hurt you.” Even so, he lowers himself back down, sitting cross-legged and reaching to stroke Ichimatsu’s hair.

He nods. That’s part of the problem. Even though he normally wouldn’t have much complaint about being left to his own devices… he’s used to sleeping next to his brothers. Right on the end beside Karamatsu. When he’s not feeling well, being absent from them is apparently not doing him any favors. “I know. It’s just…”

His eyes drift closed once more. It must be the medicine making him feel out of it and way too honest. “… I think I’m gonna get lonely sleeping like this.”

“O-oh… gosh.” He can practically hear the frown in Choromatsu’s voice. The other man’s hand combs through his hair, a rhythmic and repetitive motion that makes him sleepy again. “I can probably… sleep like this, propped up against the couch. Is that okay?”

“Mmmh… I don’t want you to have to do that… you’ll make your back sore.”

He chuckles. “Ah, I-I think I can handle it. Even if that’s true, it’d be worth it to me so you don’t have to feel lonely. It’s the least I can do for my little brother.”

“I can’t stop you,” Ichimatsu mumbles. Sleep is scrabbling its tiny, strong fingers at him, trying to pull him down. It’s getting hard to resist. “If you want…”

“Yeah… yeah, I wanna do this for you.” Choromatsu leans down to press a small kiss to the top of Ichimatsu’s head. “Hey. Love you, Ichimacchan. Try to get some rest, okay?”

He doesn’t have to tell Ichimatsu twice. Within a minute of Choromatsu’s urging, he’s fallen back into a peaceful darkness.

-

When Ichimatsu wakes up the next morning, Choromatsu’s presence has been replaced by Jyushimatsu’s.

As much as he loves his immediate older brother, he doesn’t have any complaints. He and Jyushimatsu are very close, and his younger brother being here is pretty soothing to wake up to.

He’s uncharacteristically quiet, though that’s not to say he isn’t his usual energetic self. He appears to be flipping through baseball cards, maybe organizing them in his little album, humming to himself. There’s also one hand free to play with Ichimatsu’s hair, which he supposes is why he still feels relaxed.

“Hey, Jyushi.” His body reminds him why stretching is a bad idea right now, so he settles for arching his back a little in an effort to make something pop. Everything is sore. Even that little bit of movement hurts his ribs enough that he has trouble catching his breath for a minute. “Fuck… morning.”

“Oh! Yeah, it is morning!” Jyushimatsu is chipper as always, though when he leans in for a hug, he’s surprisingly gentle. “How’d you sleep, Ichimatsu-nii-san?”

“Okay, I guess. I still hurt a bunch.”

“Yeahhhh, you were crying in your sleep! But it’s okay! Because guess what? Jyushi is here!” He grins, nuzzling his cheek against Ichimatsu’s. It’s a bit weird, but par for the course as far as Jyushimatsu is concerned. Besides, the hug is nice after the fear of being lonely last night. “Did you have nightmares, huh?”

Now that he mentions it… yep. Ichimatsu’s dreams, or what he remembers of them, were filled with horrible things. The memory of being hit by the car, or the images of either Karamatsu or Totty being hit because he wasn’t fast enough.

He recalls one piece of a dream which involved looking into his own chest and seeing the end of a fractured rib shatter his glass heart.

A shudder runs through his body, prompting Jyushimatsu to tighten his grip just slightly. “Oh, you’re cold! It’s past breakfast, ‘cause you slept for a really long time, but I’ll go get you some tea!! Sound good?”

Given that his appetite hasn’t come back from war, that sounds better than anything else. Though he did manage to choke down that rice and miso last night, he’s not sure if he wants to eat even anything bland. “Yeah, sounds good. Put just a little bit of agave syrup in it for me?”

“Yeah! Anything for Ichimatsu-nii-san! Be right back, okay?”

With Jyushimatsu, ‘be right back’ is typically how it goes. He’s only gone for a few minutes, or at least it only seems like a few minutes.

Regardless, Ichimatsu has a cup of tea in his hand relatively quickly. Almost as if his brother predicted that it would be difficult to hold something very hot with only one hand, the tea is warm, not boiling hot.

It’s easier to balance it with one hand, plus this means it’s pretty much the perfect temperature to drink. As he starts to sip it, he feels Jyushimatsu’s hand, covered entirely by his sleeve, rubbing affectionately between his shoulder blades. “It’s good, huh?”

He swallows and gives the other a nod. “Yeah, pretty good. Thanks.” Thankfully, it should wake him up, too. He’s still feeling kind of groggy.

“Good!! Osomatsu-nii-san said he’s gonna give you your medicine in a minute, since I told him you were up and hurting.” Jyushimatsu shoves his binder of cards away, shifting up to sit on the sofa. “Do you want me to move you up here after you’re done drinking?”

“Probably, yeah. You got anything you wanna do today?” Another sip, and he sighs in relief feeling the warmth flow through him. Damn.He can’t believe he could take something as simple as a cup of tea in the morning for granted. “I can’t really help with baseball practice… but we could watch TV together or something.”

“Sure! We can watch whatever you want!” After only a few seconds, Jyushimatsu wiggles himself back down and leans against his big brother’s shoulder. “Hey, Ichimatsu-nii-san… I’m really glad you’re okay. Even though you’re hurt and everything, you’re home with us instead of… being not home with us!”

The least he can do is let his head rest gently against Jyushimatsu’s. “Yeah… I’m glad I’m home, too. Don’t think I’d rather be anywhere else.”

Jyushimatsu nods eagerly, making a brief, dull wave of pain wash through Ichimatsu. However, he’d rather have that pain than not have his little brother close. “We’ll take really good care of you! Just say if you need anything, okay? I’m really strong and I can get anything! … And if I can’t, Osomatsu-nii-san probably can!”

“Heh.” Ichimatsu takes another gulp of his tea. “You guys are the best.”

-

True to Jyushimatsu’s word, Osomatsu is in pretty soon to give Ichimatsu the painkillers. For whatever reason, even when he can’t be trusted with literally anything else, the eldest is pretty good at monitoring medicine when one of the others needs it.

All things being equal, Ichimatsu has a lot of faith in taking medicine when Osomatsu keeps track of it. He knows how much was dispensed, how many Ichimatsu is supposed to take and how often, how many are left, and all the related things. He’s like some kind of idiot savant who was put on Earth to be a pill counter.

After he takes it, he expects to start getting tired again, so he silently begs Osomatsu to stay on the couch with him. They’re all supposed to be hanging out anyway, based on what Jyushimatsu said, so right now he decides he wants to be close to his oldest brother for a little bit.

Osomatsu seems all too happy to oblige, snuggling Ichimatsu as close as he dares to. It’s probably not a good idea to use normal force, so the touches are… lighter than usual. It’s not so bad.

He settles in on Osomatsu’s shoulder, trying to get his eyes to focus on the show Jyushimatsu turned it to for him. It’s kind of unfortunate that he’s almost certainly going to fall asleep on it. “You guys are taking really good care of me,” he sighs, letting his eyes slip closed. “You want my allowance? Or, like… a bag of sardines?”

Osomatsu snorts. “What? You’re nuts, man. We’re taking care of you because we want to and because you need it. I mean, if I was sitting here with a broken leg, a broken wrist, broken ribs, and had to have my shoulder cherry popped back into place, wouldn’t you all be like, ‘Wow, maybe we should give the poor bastard a hand’? We’re just doing the same thing for you that we’d do for any one of us.”

Ichimatsu huffs. “Yeah, well… you’re all doing a lot. Karamatsu went in the kitchen past midnight to make me miso and rice, Choromatsu probably fucked up his back sleeping against the couch so I wouldn’t be lonely, Jyushi’s waiting on me, and you’ve got my medicine on a damn schedule or something.”

“Yeah, well,” Osomatsu grins, “I can’t leave it up to you, crackhead.”

He can’t help but chuckle at that. Even so, it’s not going to make him totally drop this. “I’m serious. You guys are…”

Osomatsu nudges him carefully. “We’re being brothers, you boner. I know we suck at showing it sometimes, but… you know we all love each other, right? I guess it’s easier to show it when one of us is sick or hurt. Just so happens you’re the hurt one right now. And also your ass is on painkillers, so everything seems weird to you.”

… Okay, so maybe he can’t fault that logic. Still, though.

They’re both quiet for a long moment while they watch the screen, then Osomatsu lets out a soft hum. “You did good, you know. I don’t like that you tried to get yourself killed, but you did good.”

“I wasn’t trying to get myself killed,” Ichimatsu retorts with the nastiest facial expression he can muster right now. “I didn’t wanna get hit, either. But Karamatsu and Totty weren’t paying attention… I didn’t want them to get hit. I was trying to get us all out of that way… I just wasn’t fast enough.”

Osomatsu scoffs before reaching his hand up to ruffle Ichimatsu’s hair. He appears to be getting a lot of pets like that lately, not that he’s complaining. It feels really good and is one of the biggest comforts he has right now. “You protected them, anyway. I can’t say too much, because you didn’t do anything I wouldn’t have done if it were me.”

Ichimatsu offers a low, mocking wail. “Oh, shit. I’m turning into you. I think I’d rather be a cat. If I were a really bratty cat, you’d still be nice enough to feed me sardines and scratch behind my ears, right?”

“Uhhhh, I guess. You’re changing the subject, you dick.” A small puff of laughter makes his bangs move. “I just… wanna say I really respect you, man. Sometimes I remember the days when you would kick Karamatsu in the leg just for breathing the wrong way. And when you used to blow Totty off to hang with your friends in high school.”

He gets a shrug in response. “People change. We’ve all changed a lot.”

“Yeah, sure. I know.” His arm shifts down and he squeezes Ichimatsu’s good hand in that reassuring, proud way only an older sibling can. “They haven’t all been good changes. But seeing you trying to keep the others safe… that’s a a good change. Just gotta give you your props, Ichimacchan.”

He’s too tired to really argue with Osomatsu. Despite the fact that he knows he’s the shittiest of them all, he has to at least silently acknowledge that what he did prevented one of his older brothers and his baby brother from being in the same pain he’s in right now.

Instead of saying anything meaningful, he just presses himself in more against Osomatsu and mutters, “That’s nice. I’m tired.”

Osomatsu snorts and Ichimatsu feels a light kiss on top of his head. “Alright, dumbass, get some sleep. The pills are probably kicking in. Let me know if you need anything.”

Ichimatsu thinks that, right now, all he needs is his big brother to be the perfect pillow, and he’s doing a pretty good job of that.

-

Although it’s not dark at all the next time Ichimatsu wakes up, it’s significantly later than he meant to sleep. 3 P.M., meaning that once again he’s slept through a meal ― lunch, this time.

Just like last night, he finds that he’s not really all that hungry. Even so, it might be a good idea to eat, so probably he ask Osomatsu to get him something small.

When he shifts and looks over, though, Osomatsu isn’t there anymore. Instead, there’s Totty…

… Oh.

He’s holding onto Ichimatsu pretty tight. Ichimatsu isn’t sure he can move too much with the way Totty is holding him.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Totty? Everything okay?”

His little brother stiffens, wide eyes suddenly turning up to look at him. Unlike what he noticed about Karamatsu, Totty doesn’t have any physical injuries, but… the skin around his eyes is red and puffy. “Y… yeah, it’s all good. Sorry, am I hurting you?”

“No… not really hurting.” He doesn’t remember having seen Totty too much after everything happened. He visited Ichimatsu in the hospital, all teary-eyed and not talking, before they were all allowed to take him home. Once he got home, though, he can’t recall Totty being around a lot even though everyone else was.

He assumed Totty was freaked out after everything and avoiding him just because he’s emotional right now. Seems Ichimatsu was right about that.

He maneuvers his good arm to put it around Totty’s shoulders, pulling him in closer. “Have you been crying? You sure you’re okay?”

Totty sniffles and dips his head down. “Yeah, sorry… I just…”

“Don’t be sorry, dumbass.” Even though it hurts a little to move so much, Ichimatsu cuddles his brother in against him. “It’s fine, you big crybaby. I just wanna make sure you’re okay.”

“I should be the one making sure you’re okay.” Regardless, Totty nestles in, tucking his head under Ichimatsu’s chin. It’s a bit of a weight on his hurt ribs, but it’s not that bad. “… H-hey. I, um. You know. I… I love you.”

Huh. It’s been a while since Totty has said that point-blank to any of his brothers, Ichimatsu thinks. It’s kind of nice to hear. He closes his eyes and offers an appreciative hum. “I love you, too. That it?”

Totty lets out a frustrated sigh, and Ichimatsu can just imagine the pout he has on his face. Kinda cute. He can’t really help himself; the youngest is always gonna be the baby, always gonna be adorable, even when he’s acting like a little bitch or if he wants to deny it. “I wanted to… say I’m sorry.”

“For…?”

“For… everything! Y-you know, for almost getting hit and… I mean, you got hurt trying to protect me and Karamatsu! If I hadn’t tried to follow him without even looking… you wouldn’t have had to worry about me. And… and I haven’t been with you too much since you got home…”

He nuzzles his head against Ichimatsu’s collarbone, kneading his hand against the top of his brother’s good leg. “I’m sorry about that. It’s just… I’ve been… really upset. It was scary, seeing the car hit you…”

The hum Ichimatsu gives this time is lower, pensive and understanding. “Yeah. Mom said you were crying a lot when she got to the hospital. ‘S okay to be kinda freaked out, you know.”

“Yeah, I know… and I was… am.I was scared the whole time… Karamatsu tried to wake you up, but you were just lying there and you wouldn’t…” Totty sniffles and his hand curls into a weak fist against Ichimatsu’s knee. “I didn’t wanna lose you, Ichimatsu-nii-san, and I was really afraid you were gone. I’m happy you’re okay… I just… I-I was pretty sure I was gonna cry the first time I tried to take care of you, so I… wanted to be alone with you. Crying in front of all you guys is…”

Ichimatsu nods to quiet his brother, ghosting a kiss over the top of Totty’s head. “I get it. It’s okay, Totty. C’mere, okay… you don’t have to be sorry for being freaked out and not wanting to cry and all that shit. I’m sure Karamatsu’s freaked out, too. And everyone else. Don’t apologize for your feelings, stupid.”

An indignant huff is the response he gets, before Totty presses in against Ichimatsu’s uninjured shoulder. “It just makes me think a lot,” he finally confesses.

Ichimatsu smirks. “Right. And you’re so out of practice with thinking, it’s hard. I know.”

“Th-that’s not it, you jerk!” Totty whines and brings his arms in, curled against his chest. His knees come up onto the couch, folded under him, as he tries to get comfortable. “It makes me think… anything could happen, at any moment, and that… might be it.And I know we’re all shitty to each other a lot of the time, but… but I love all of you.”

He sniffles, snuggling against Ichimatsu when his big brother pulls him even closer. “The thought that one of us might… die… I-I didn’t… I didn’t know how afraid I was of that… till I thought it happened. If one of us wasn’t here… it… it wouldn’t be the same anymore.”

“… Yeah.” Ichimatsu gives Totty a squeeze that’s maybe a little tighter than necessary. It’s not like he can pretend that Totty is wrong. He’s right. Even though they’re all assholes and treat each other like crap sometimes, the last thing any of them want is for their family to be… incomplete.

They sit quietly for what feels like a long time, holding each other. Breathing. Just existing in sync, in perfect understanding for a while.

Sometimes, it’s true, Ichimatsu is kind of a death seeker. Sometimes he really does want to die. Sometimes he doesn’t care about anything, and just wants it all to end so he doesn’t have to deal with the weight of life anymore.

Sometimes, though… sometimes he fights death with all he has. He thinks maybe that’s what happened after he got hit by the car.

It would have been easy to die then. To just let his injuries swallow him up and put out his life like blowing out a candle.

He’s in a lot of pain right now, but he’s not dead. There must be a reason, right?

He thinks this is the reason.

Holding his youngest brother and realizing how broken his absence would leave his family, thinking about how broken it would be if anyof them were gone, how much they love each other…

… For once, he’s happy to be alive.

[wicked-mind]

Remember Me: Chapter Two

Summary: Y/N and Bucky were the unlikely match when it came to love, but they were inseparable since they met. After a fight, Y/N left to be a trauma surgeon in the military and returns without her memories. How will Bucky remind Y/N how she is the fire in his bones? Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: PTSD

Series Masterlist

All Writings Masterlist

*gifs not mine

Chapter Two - His Gravity

Bucky sat on his couch, an old shoe box sitting in front of him on the coffee table. The contents of the box held everything from his and Y/N’s relationship he had kept besides her clothes which still sat in his dresser and closet. He lifts the lid slowly, pulling out a stack of Polaroid photos. He was always taking photos of himself with Y/N, wanting to preserve every memory of them as if he knew one day Y/N would need to be reminded. He flipped through the photos until he got to the last one. Y/N was sticking her tongue out at the camera while holding a tattoo gun in her hand. She had been tattooing little hearts on Bucky’s arm between the rest of his tattooed sleeve. He set the photos down, glancing at the other contents of the box. There was her old house key that she had painted a light blue with pink dots and a pressed red rose Bucky had given her one Valentines. Bucky’s eyes finally rested on a black velvet box at the bottom but he couldn’t pick it up. It was too painful to look at the ring he was going to use to ask Y/N to marry him but after he got the news she was accepted as a trauma surgeon in the military, that plan fell through due to his own selfishness and the horrible things he had said to her. Bucky leaned back into the couch, staring at the box. He wondered if him and Y/N could ever get back to the way they were before she left. He would make it his life mission to get back to that point. He glanced over from the couch to the kitchen, reading the time on the microwave. It was almost three in the morning but he couldn’t will himself to sleep knowing Y/N was back and not waiting in bed for him. His phone buzzing in his pocket broke his train of thought, pulling it out and seeing Steve’s name. He quickly answered, “Yeah?”

“Buck, is Y/N with you?”

“No.. She’s not at home?” Bucky stood at the question from Steve, suddenly concern washing through his body.

“No, I woke up to check on her and she’s not in bed and the front door was open… Pegs and I are driving around looking for her but we haven’t found her…”

“Keep me updated, I’m going to look for her.” Bucky hung up the phone, shoving it back into the pocket of his leather jacket. He practically sprinted out the door and hopped on his bike, quickly speeding down the roads looking for Y/N. This was not the time of hour for a woman to be out alone in the dark, let alone a woman with no memories. She was vulnerable and if anything happened to her, Bucky would blame himself for not keeping her safe. 

Y/N had been sleeping soundly, but hours ago she woke up to the spinning fan on the ceiling. As soon as she laid eyes on it, she was stuck in her head thinking she was still across seas and that the blades were from a helicopter. She had stumbled out of bed in only her pajama shorts and a tank top, walking out the front door. In her mind, she was injured with a bullet to the head and needed to find help. She walked for what seemed like hours down the sidewalk, staring blankly ahead in a trance as she tried to find help.

Bucky sped down every road he could, looking around for Y/N in the darkness. He even stopped and yelled out her name a few times before continuing to ride down the streets. He paused as he saw the back of a woman walking down the sidewalk in pajama shorts and a tank top, blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail. Bucky would recognize Y/N anywhere. He slowed down on his bike until he was right beside her instantly feeling relief when he saw it was Y/N, “Hey, Y/N, what’re you doing?” He shouted so he could be heard over the sound of his motorcycle but it didn’t seem to grasp her attention as she kept walking, staring ahead, “Shit..” He muttered out as he brought his bike to a stop, kicking the kickstand down and jumping off. He ran over to her, standing in front of her to get a look at her blank face. He’d seen that expression before from soldiers who came back from combat with PTSD, he’d seen that look on himself before. Bucky placed his hands on Y/N’s arms, bringing her to a stop, “Hey darlin’, it’s me Bucky. You okay?” He asked as he stared at the blank stare on her face.

Y/N slowly looked at him, still in a trance, “I’ve been shot and... I need help.” She said softly towards him, her expression still blank.

Bucky sighed a little in relief at being able to get her to respond. He nodded, taking off his leather jacket and draping it over Y/N’s cold shoulders, “I know, doll. I’m here to help. Let me get you somewhere safe, okay?” He asks to which Y/N slowly nodded towards him. He took her hand, pulling her towards his motorcycle. He gently helped her lean back on the seat before pulling out his phone to call Steve, “I found her, near the Rosewood Park.” He informed before hanging up, knowing it was safer to transport her back home in Steve’s car rather than on his motorcycle in the state she was in. Bucky glanced over her, watching her shiver slightly although she didn’t seem to notice she was cold. He took her hand again, gently pulling her to his chest and wrapping his arms around her, “You’re freezing..” 

It didn’t take long for Steve and Peggy to pull up behind Bucky’s bike. Steve jumped out before the car had even stopped, running over to Y/N who was still being held in Bucky’s arms for warmth, “What happened, Y/N?” He asks his sister who didn’t reply.

Bucky looked at Steve, “She’s stuck in a trance.” He told him before looking down at Y/N, “Hey, this is Steve. He’s your brother and he’s going to help you. We gotta get you home first before we can take a look at your injuries. Let’s get you into the car, okay?” He asks her to which was answered with another slow nod. Bucky walks her over to the car, opening the back door and watching her get in slowly, still staring straight ahead, “I’ll meet you back at the house, okay? I promise.” He waited for another silent nod but it didn’t come. He gently closed the door then turned to Steve, “I’ll meet you back at the house.” He said shortly before walking back to his bike, bringing it roaring to life and already starting his way back to Steve’s. Bucky couldn’t help but be a little irritated with Steve for allowing his sister to somehow get outside and walk a few miles away before noticing she was gone. That would’ve never happened if Y/N was at home with him where she belonged.

Steve got into the backseat with his sister who was still wrapped in Bucky’s leather jacket. He watched her stare straight ahead, wondering what had triggered this trance. Peggy pulled away from the curb and followed Bucky’s motorcycle back to their house, parking in the driveway next to Bucky who was immediately at Y/N’s door opening it. He helped her out of the car, walking her inside with Steve and Peggy right on his tail. Bucky walked Y/N to stand in front of a mirror on the wall, wanting her to see that she was home and no longer injured to try and snap her out of the trance, “Look, no blood… You are home and you’re safe.” He whispers to her as he stroked hair away from her ear to show the healed pink wound instead of a bullet hole. 

Y/N blinked at the mirror, watching Bucky move her hair. She observed herself for a moment before blinking a few more times, “I’m home?” She asks softly, tilting her head at her reflection as she stared.

Bucky nodded to her, watching her face in the reflection of the mirror, “Yeah, doll, you’re home and you’re safe. Don’t worry.” He said softly to her, a small smile curving on his lips as he could see her trance fading away before his eyes. 

Y/N bit her lip as she watched herself in the mirror, then turns to face Bucky, “Bucky…” She breathes out softly as she ran her eyes along his facial features. Something about the way he looked at her made her think they were more than just really good friends before and she wished she could remember what that was like, “It was the fan spinning…” She remembered, “It reminded me of a helicopter… After I was shot I just laid still for a while until I couldn’t hear them anymore, then I heard a helicopter and walked to it for help..” 

Bucky nodded at her words, lifting a hand to stroke through her hair slowly as he had done many times before, “I’ll tear that fan out of the ceiling, doll.” He told her with a small smile. He’d do anything to help her just like she had for him when he came back with his nightmares. He could hear Steve trying to come over but Peggy kept holding him back saying ‘give them a moment’ which Bucky was grateful for. He had been away from Y/N for over 18 months and he felt as that he had a lot of time to make up for.

Y/N looked at Bucky in his grey blue eyes, biting her lip softly. Why did she feel so close to him when she didn’t know really anything about him besides he rode a Harley and seemed to be protective over her? She took a deep breath, “I guess I’m sleeping on the couch tonight where there’s no fans.” She said with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Bucky nodded, “And tomorrow, I’ll replace the fan.” He promised with a small smile as he followed her back to the living room, sitting on the couch beside her. He didn’t want to leave her, he wanted to stay close in case she needed him. 

Steve and Peggy came into the living room after they heard Y/N and Bucky sit down. Steve came over and looked down at his sister with a small concerned smile, “Doing better?” He asks to which Y/N nodded, “Alright, well, try to get some rest, don’t let Bucky keep you up all night. Wake us up if you need anything.” He told her with the same smile plastered to his lips. He knew there was no way he was going to get Bucky to leave Y/N’s side so there was no point in fighting about it. He turned to Peggy, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her down the hallway towards their bedroom. 

Y/N watched Peggy and Steve disappear, a small smile on her lips, “I wonder what that’s like…” She said softly, not realizing she said it aloud.

Bucky looks down at Y/N curiously, “What?” He asks with a small smile, wondering what she saw that triggered the question.

Y/N looked at Bucky, “To be that in love with somebody, I wonder what that’s like.” She said softly to him, watching his facial expression for any hints.

Bucky sighed softly, lifting a hand to run through his dark hair as he stared at her. He thought about how he should answer for a moment before finally speaking, “It’s the best and scariest feeling in the world.” He told Y/N, “Being that in love with somebody… It brings out a side of you that you never knew you had. Makes you crazy, intoxicated with your person to where you’d do anything to see that smile and know you’re the reason for it.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “But it’s also frightening because you know you can break them without meaning too.”

Y/N nodded slowly at his words, biting her bottom lip as she listened to him, “Sounds like you’ve been that deep in love before.” She said softly, curiously as she was trying to put the puzzle known as Bucky Barnes together. 

Bucky smiled down at her, “I have… She was the most amazing girl I’ve ever met. My best girl.” He moved his gaze to stare ahead as if he was stuck in his memories, “The way she moved… it was like gravity was pulling me towards her at all times. She was smart, way too smart to mess around with me,” He chuckles, “But nothing could stop her when she had her mind set on something and I was so lucky to be the one she set her mind towards. The way she would laugh was music to my ears, my favorite song on repeat and the way she looked at me made me feel like my whole body was on fire.”

Y/N smiled as he spoke. She could tell he was completely in love with whoever he was speaking about and it even sparked feelings of jealousy that she didn’t remember what that felt like, “So what happened?” 

Bucky took another sigh, knowing the question was coming. Y/N had always been naturally curious and he could read her like a book, “I fucked up, really bad.” He said looking down at her face, “I said some things I didn’t mean because I was scared and I broke her heart.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, seeing the pain across his face as he spoke, “Well, I don’t know much about love or relationships, if anything, but maybe you should tell her that you were scared. From the way you talk about her, a love like that seems too epic to let go because of something you didn’t mean.” She said with an encouraging smile.

Bucky stared at her a little dumbfounded at her reply. Of course that was her reply, part of him knew it would be. Y/N always gave him the best advice and it was like she was here walking him through their relationship but she didn’t know he was talking about her, “I’ll have to give that a try, thank you for the advice.” That was all he could say to her even though he wanted to tell her he was sorry for what he had said the night she left.

Y/N nodded with a smile, “You’re welcome, Buck. I’m rooting for you two so don’t mess it up.” She told him before pulling one of the blankets on the couch over her lap. She leans her head on his shoulder slightly, feeling the sleep slowly taking over her body. It wasn’t long until she was comfily sleeping on Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky waited until he knew she was asleep to respond. He knew everything about her and knew when she was fast asleep, “I won’t, doll.” He whispered to himself with a small smile. Y/N hadn’t slept next to him for so long it almost felt like a dream. He gently lifted his arm as to not disturb her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and leading her head down to lap to make her more comfy. He gently brushed his finger’s along Y/N’s face, something he thought he’d never be able to do again. God, she was beautiful when she was sleeping. It was something he missed most, watching her sleep after he woke up looking like an angel wrapped in his sheets. Y/N was still his gravity, pulling him towards her at every moment.

[eiressofinspirationwrites]

Shaken

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Word Count: 2691

Description: What was supposed to be a simple trip to a crime scene goes awry.

************************************************************

"Reid and Y/n, go to the Vallas house," Hotch instructed, "See if there's anything that may have been missed that could help us with building a profile."

"You got it," you nodded as you gathered up the papers you'd scattered across the table and neatly placed them back in their folder.

"We'll call if we find anything," Spencer said as you shoved the folder into your bag. 

"Come on pretty boy," you teased him as you stood and headed for the door, "I'll drive."

"Can we please follow the rules of the road this time?" Spencer asked as he followed after you, "You nearly killed us last time you drove us somewhere."

"I did not," you shot back, "Quit being a drama queen."

"You sure it's a good idea to send those two off on their own? Together," Rossi asked Hotch as they watched the team's two youngest members head out. 

"They'll be fine," Hotch assured him, "They're good at their jobs."

"Oh I know that but you have noticed their, um, budding relationship haven’t you?" Rossi asked.

“Of course I have,” Hotch said, the faintest hint of a smile pulled at his lips, “You’d have to be blind not to.”

"It is rather amusing that they think they can hide their relationship from a team filled with profilers,” Rossi chuckled and shook his head, “Kids.”

******************************

"See, Spence, we crossed the entire city and we made it to our destination alive," you said as you parked the car in front of the Vallas home. 

"You broke 7 traffic laws on the 10.5 mile drive here," Spencer pointed out.

"You're full of it," you rolled your eyes as you let yourself out of the vehicle.

"I am not," Spencer defended himself as he waited for you to join him on the sidewalk, "I know every traffic law for this area and I'm telling you that you broke 7 of them."

"Whatever," you waved him off as you both walked up the front sidewalk. 

Spencer opened his mouth to respond but you both slowed your walk at nearly the same time, "Y/n."

"I see it," you said as you drew your gun, keeping your eyes on the slightly open front door, "Somebody is inside."

"I'll take the front," Spencer said as he drew his revolver, "You take the back."

"We should call and wait for backup," you said, "It would only take a few minutes for them to arrive."

"Whoever left that door open could escape by then if they're still inside," Spencer argued.

"Fine," you relented after a moment’s deliberation, "I'll take the back.

You quickly made your way around the side of the house but while doing so you made the call for backup anyway. After letting yourself in the backdoor, you started to clear the rooms making your way towards the front of the house.

You'd just cleared the last room on the bottom floor when you heard a gunshot from upstairs.

You spun towards the stairs, weapon at the ready. Heart pounding and your senses going on high alert. 

Seconds later you saw someone at the top of the stairs.

"FBI! Stop!" You yelled at the man. 

He did in fact stop on the third step from the top but the man raised his gun at you and fired. 

Without hesitation you fired two rounds at him. Both bullets met their target and the man collapsed and slid down the stairs.

You kicked his gun away and checked for a pulse. When you found one you removed the handcuffs from your belt and cuffed the man to the banister. 

Once he was secure, you sprinted up the stairs yelling, "SPENCER!" 

You started to panic when you didn't get a response. Your heart stopped when you reached the top and saw Spencer on the floor several feet down the hall. 

"Spence!" You exclaimed and rushed to his side. 

You fell to your knees beside him and were relieved to find that he was still breathing and had a pulse but he was unconscious.

You quickly located the source of the blood staining his shirt and applied pressure to it. 

"You've gotta hang on, Spence," you said as you struggled to maintain your composure, "Help will be here soon. Okay? Just hang on.I’m calling for help right now."

Using one hand you pulled out your phone and called for an ambulance.

You weren't sure how long it took but when you heard sirens outside and footsteps downstairs, you called out, "I've got an agent down up here!"

"Y/n!" You heard a familiar voice call from downstairs. 

"Morgan! Up here!" You yelled back.

A few seconds later Morgan appeared at the top of the stairs and Rossi was right behind him. 

"What happened?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know," you shook your head as you maintained pressure on Reid's wound, "the door was open when we got here and then when we were clearing the house I heard a gunshot fired up here and..."

You paused as a sob finally slipped out, "I never should have left his side."

"Hey, it's not your fault," Morgan tried to reassure you. 

"Where are the damn paramedics?" You asked, ignoring his reassurances. 

"I’m sure they'll be here any minute," Morgan said gently, "Let me take over and Rossi will get you cleaned up. Okay?"

"I c-can't leave him," you hiccuped. 

"I'll come get you before the ambulance leaves and you can ride with him to the hospital, okay?"

"Okay," you nodded. 

"Okay, on three remove your hands," Derek said, "One, two, three."

You did as told and let Derek take over. 

"Come on kid," Rossi said gently, as he helped you off the floor, "Let's get you cleaned up."

You let Rossi silently lead you downstairs to the kitchen. 

As you scrubbed Spencer's blood from your hands you recounted the events that had transpired before they had arrived. 

"I never should have agreed to going in without back up," you muttered. 

"You can't beat yourself up over this," Rossi said, "There's nothing you could have done to stop it and you stopped the guy who did this from escaping."

"What if Spencer dies?" You asked as tears started to flow, "I can't lose him, Rossi."

"Hey, it'll be okay, kid" Rossi placed a comforting hand on your arm, "Reid is tougher than he looks. You know that. He will be just fine.”

You started to say something but your eyes widened when you noticed blood on the hand Rossi had just removed from your shoulder, “Did you cut your hand?”

“No, I didn’t” Rossi said as he noticed the blood as well, “Were you shot too?”

“I didn’t think so,” you blinked in shock, “The suspect shot at me but I thought it had missed.”

“Let me see,” Rossi said and helped you remove your coat and blazer, “You definitely took a round to your arm.”

“Oh,” you said as you saw the blood coming out of a hole in your bicep.

Rossi pulled a handful of paper towels off of a nearby roll and applied them to your arm.

"They're taking Reid to the ambulance now," Morgan said as he popped into the kitchen, with Hotch on his heels.

"They’re taking this one to get treated too," Rossi said, “She took a round to the arm.”

“What?!” Morgan was taken aback, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t notice,” you said, taking over applying pressure to your injury from Rossi.

“I’ll take her to the ambulance,” Hotch said, you nodded and silently exited the kitchen with him. 

"How's she holding up?" Morgan asked Rossi. 

"She's shaken," Rossi sighed, "This is the first time she's been involved in a shooting like this. Doesn't help matters that she and Reid are so close."

"They'll both be fine," Morgan said, "They're both tougher than they realize."

******************************

A few hours later the team gathered at the hospital to check in on you and Spencer.

"Hotch," Morgan said as he and the rest of the team entered the waiting room, "Anything?"

"Spencer is still in surgery," Hotch said, he'd ridden to the hospital in an ambulance with the suspect that you had shot, so he'd been there the entire time, "but the man Y/n shot died in surgery about 40 minutes ago."

"Well she did the entire city a favor," Prentiss said, "We're pretty sure that he was our unsub. We've gone through his entire life and he fits our profile perfectly."

"Where is Y/n anyway?" JJ asked.

"She's over there," Hotch turned and pointed to where you were curled up in a ball across a couple of the chairs, Hotch's jacket draped over you as a blanket, "The doctors patched her arm up. It was only a fragment of the bullet that lodged itself in her arm. The round had ricocheted and broke into several pieces. She only just fell asleep about 30 minutes ago. She just kind of shut down after we got the news about the suspect dying."

"That's the first person she's ever killed, isn't it?" Prentiss asked. 

"It is," Hotch nodded, "She's experiencing many conflicting emotions right now."

"That's to be expected," Rossi said. 

"Yes, now all we have to do is wait for an update on Reid," Hotch said. 

It took quite a while longer before a doctor came out to provide an update on Spencer but the second the doc called for them you were awake and off of the chairs faster than lightning. 

"How is he," you asked and listened carefully to the doctor as he explained Spencer’s injury and surgery. 

"He's got a long road to recovery ahead of him but I'm confident he will make it through just fine," the doctor finished and the entire team let out a sigh of relief.

"Can I see him?" You asked. 

"Once he is set up in his own room, a nurse will come find you," the doctor said. 

"I understand," you nodded, "Thank you."

Once Spencer's doctor started to leave you turned back to the rest of the team. 

"He's going to be okay," Morgan pulled you into a hug, "Just like we told you."

“I was so scared,” you whispered into Morgan’s shoulder.

“And that’s okay,” Morgan said, “You’ve been through a lot today.”

******************************

You waited with the rest of the team listening to them discuss the case, but your thoughts were wandering elsewhere. Mostly just to Spencer and what you would have done if things had gone any differently today. 

In your line of work, you saw plenty of death but this was the first time you’d been confronted with the possibility of the body in the morgue being one of your friends. You tried not to dwell on it now that you knew Spencer was going to be okay but it was hard trying to direct your thoughts other places. 

When you did pull your mind away from Spencer it drifted right into thinking about the man you’d killed. There was no doubt that it had been a justified kill but it was your first. Thankfully before you could dwell on that too much a nurse appeared to take you to Spencer.

“I’m sorry but we can only allow one person back at a time,” the nurse apologized.

“That’s okay,” Morgan said, “Y/n, go right ahead. We have to get back to wrapping up the case now that we know you both are going to be okay.”

“Thank you,” you sighed gratefully before allowing the nurse to escort you from the waiting room.

The young woman led you to Spencer’s room and you wasted no time before collapsing into the chair in the corner beside the bed. The nurse said something to you but your eyes were focused on Spencer and you didn’t really hear what you said. You just nodded and that apparently satisfied the nurse because she left you alone and went back to the nurse’s station. 

You just sat there watching Spencer’s chest rise and fall with his breathing, taking comfort in the simple action because it meant that he was still alive. 

The two of you had been dating behind the team’s back for months now and had been planning on telling them soon but judging by the looks they’d been giving you since the shooting you got the feeling they already knew. You and Spence would likely have to make it official to them at some point but that could wait until he was out of the hospital. 

Eventually, watching the steady rise and fall of Spencer’s breathing lulled you to sleep and you didn’t wake up again until many hours later. The sound of two voices speaking in hushed tones pulled you from your sleep.

Once the sleep fog cleared a bit and you opened your eyes, you realized that it was Morgan and he was talking to Spencer.

“You’re awake!” you exclaimed excitedly.

“I have been for a bit,” Spencer gave you a small smirk, “You were sound asleep when I did. The nurse had to call Morgan for me so I could get an update on the case.”

“I’m sorry, Spence,” you apologized as you reached out and wove your hands together, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“From what Morgan was telling me, you needed that rest,” Spencer said and you could see the concern in his eyes.

“It’s barely a scratch,” you shrugged.

“Scratches can hurt like hell too,” Morgan said, “but now that you’re both awake, I’m going to go. Give you two some alone time.”

“You don’t have to go,” you tried to convince him but he waved you off.

“Don’t sweat it, kid,” Morgan said as he hovered by the door, “There are still a few loose ends to tie up back at the station with reports and what not.”

“I could come back and help,” you offered.

“No, you and lover boy are going to stay right here,” Morgan ordered, “You two have been through enough with this case.”

“I really don’t-” before you could finish your sentence Morgan disappeared out into the hall, “He is absolutely frustrating sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?” Spencer raised an eyebrow.

“He has his moments,” you laughed.

“He told me that you were pretty worried about me,” Spencer said seriously.

“Of course I was worried about you,” you said, “I love you and it was my fault for not having your back. If I had lost you-”

“Nothing you could have done would have prevented this, Y/n,” Spencer cut you off, “I didn’t even have time to react before I was shot. The only thing that could have gone differently was if you had been behind me, he likely would have shot you and it would have been worse than just a fragment to the arm.”

“If that’s supposed to make me feel better, it’s not doing a very good job,” you frowned.

“I know,” Spencer gave your hand a small squeeze, “but we shouldn’t dwell on the what ifs. We’re both alive and that’s what matters.”

“You’re right,” you admitted.

“I always am,” he smiled.

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes but you were smiling, glad to still have him giving you a hard time.

“So, who do you think is going to be the first to ask how long we’ve been dating,” Spencer asked, “there’s no way they haven’t figured out that we’re a couple after all of this.”

“My money is on Penelope,” you said without hesitation.

“Really?” Spencer said skeptically, “I think it will be Morgan.”

“Wanna make a friendly bet?” you asked, “Winner gets to pick our next date night theme.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Spencer smiled.

“Seal it with a kiss?” you asked.

“Always,” Spencer grinned this time and you leaned in carefully.

Something about the warmth and familiarity of his lips on yours, helped a large portion of the weight that had been on your shoulders since the shooting disappear. By the time you both pulled apart, you were both a bit breathless but were smiling like fools and happy to still have each other.

******************************

Part 2

[vannahfanfics]

congrats vannah!!! your lists were amazing and it seems like so much effort, im so proud of you! could i please get aizawa and white please? thank you!

Hey! Thank you so much for requesting for the event, and I’m sorry it took so long! Medical school was very tough for me, so I ended up putting requests on the backburner for a very long time… But finally, it’s here! White symbolizes hospitals, death, and sadness, so… I’m sorry to inflict this upon you, but here’s Aizawa in the wake of the war with the Paranormal Liberation Front. Spoilers for the recent manga chapters!

Drinks on Me

“Hey, this weekend, let’s all go out and get drinks on me!” Nemuri smiled prettily, her long legs crossed as she swiveled back and forth in her chair across from Shota. “It’s been so long since we’ve all been out together. You never know, it could be our last chance!” she grinned while sticking out her tongue and winking playfully. She always said things like that, portents of doom and gloom hidden behind a winning smile, to rope Shota into joining her and Hizashi at clubs and bars. 

He should have regarded those for what they really were— omens. 

Shota jerked awake, snorting as his muscles spasmed. He laid there for a moment as he clumsily acclimated to the waking world, staring blearily at the ceiling fan spinning slowly above his head. When he finally realized that he was in bed, he exhaled deeply and reached up to rub his eyes with the heels of his palms. In the midst of his fitful sleep, he’d kicked the sheets off himself; the layer of nervous sweat on his skin absorbed the cold wind pushed down by the fan, coating him in a chill. Too exhausted to even bother pulling the covers back over himself, he flopped his arm back down to stare listlessly at the ceiling. 

The stump where his leg used to be throbbed painfully, almost as if it were aware he was awake now. He still hadn’t accustomed to the loss of his limb, nor the phantom pains plaguing his nervous system. Even now, he found himself groping for his calf, trying to ease the ache; but he couldn’t massage empty air, so it continued to burn dully, seeping down all the way into his sawed bone. 

Groaning, he pulled himself up into a sitting position, grasping the headboard as he hauled himself up. The rest of his body had endured a beating as well, making pain thrum through his nerves to shoot to his spine. He winced and grasped his shoulder, massaging the inflamed flesh until it quieted. He felt like an old man, much older than he ought to— tired, achy, defeated. He inhaled deeply, gathering the will to put on his prosthetic leg. His muscles tweaked in protest as he did, but as he gradually woke up his body and fastened the prosthetic to the stump below his knee, the pain faded into the background. 

He limped across his room to his closet, stumbling a little and using the dresser to catch himself. He hadn’t mastered navigating with his new leg, either. He took a moment to catch his breath, sweat already blooming on his clammy forehead, before tottering his way to the closet. He couldn’t tolerate dressing normally— not that he had impeccable fashion sense anyway— so he eased himself into a pair of black sweats and a gray tee and some sneakers. He tied his hair in a loose bun before shambling out the door. 

The dorm was alive with activity, but not the normal kind that Shota had become accustomed to. The air hummed with nervous energy as the students— and their parents, who were moving in to keep them safe— flitted about. Most of his pupils still sported injuries from the massive battle several days ago, bandages peeking out from beneath their clothes. But the worst injuries were the ones you couldn’t see, the ones on their hearts still oozing blood and bursting through the stitches at the slightest insult. They would be scars someday, an afterthought until the phantom pains struck when they least expected it. 

Theirs would, but not Shota’s. No, Shota’s inner wounds never really healed— and this newest one definitely would bleed for the rest of his life. 

A few of them greeted Shota quietly as he limped down the hall heading for the front door. Momo came up to him, asking if she could help him with anything— she had always been such a considerate girl, that one. He smiled and ruffled her poofy black hair, telling her that he was quite all right but thanks anyway. Shota could sure use some help, but there was no aid that any of his students could provide for him. He could feel Momo’s watery eyes boring into his back as he toddled out of the building. 

There were so many things that people took for granted every day. The ability to walk down steps without falling flat on your ass was one of them. Shota grimaced as he inched down the steps of the dorm, holding out one arm to seek purchase though there was nothing to grip onto. Somehow, he made it down to the sidewalk without eating shit, but the effort still left sweat beading in the crease lines of his forehead. He blew an irritated breath through his lips and raked his hand over his wavy black hair, taking a moment to let the pain pass before moving on. 

Though this region of the city had been spared the carnage of the war with the Paranormal Liberation Front, its effects reached even the city around U.A. There weren’t nearly as many people on the street; Shota was alone most of his commute to the business district, save for the occasional person rushing down the street with suspicious eyes and fearful breaths. Shota could feel eyes on him everywhere, though; nervous onlookers peering out their curtains and blinds, suspicious of everyone in sight. They were all waiting for the inevitable pin to drop, for the next piece in this godawful chess game to move and tell them their next poor fortune. Things would get worse before they got better; everyone knew it, the hapless civilians most of all. Their hope in heroes was teetering on the edge of a knife; if they strayed but a little, everything would fall into ruin. 

Many small business owners had closed up shop to skip town, but the liquor store was still open. A pleasant bell chimed as Shota opened the door. The cashier apparently still wasn’t getting much business, as he leaned back in a chair with his feet propped up on the counter, reading the newspaper. As Shota began to walk through the aisles searching for a particular brand of rum, the cashier decided that apparently the news was too dismal to read because he crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash bin. 

“Warmongers, the lot of them journalists,” he spat at Shota, who raised his eyebrows at him over the top of the rum bottles he was surveying. “All they’re doin’ is makin’ things worse.” 

“Do you have faith in heroes?” Shota asked and looked back down, fingers skimming over the glass bottles emblazoned with coconut trees and beach zines. He smirked when the old cashier snorted derisively. 

“Sonny, I been around a long time. This ain’t the first time some upstart has whipped everyone up in a frenzy. The heroes always come out on top because that’s what they do.” 

“That’s some unshakable faith you have there,” Shota remarked while plucking his chosen bottle from the rack. He rounded the rack while the cashier hopped up from his chair so he could check Shota out. 

“Eh, it comes with age. Nothing rattles ya anymore,” he shrugged, grabbing the bottle to scan it. He put it in a brown paper bag and punched a few of the keys into the cash register. “O’course, a little liquid courage always helps, eh?” he added with a wink. Shota smirked at that, sliding over his credit card. He took the bottle by the neck, crinkling the paper around it. 

“Thanks for the advice. Do I need to pay you for that too?” Shota joked. 

“Nah, it’s on me this time,” the man responded with a chortle, sliding Shota’s card back. Shota took it and slid it back into his wallet, then bid him a good night. When he walked out, the sun had risen into the sky and was blessing the earth with its warm rays. Yet they didn’t kiss Shota’s skin; a lingering chill wafted around him, blocking out all the warmth to leave him cold. Eventually, he’d feel the sun again, he knew that— but he had a while to go. 

It was a short walk to the graveyard. The iron was hot under his fingers as he pushed the unlocked gate open, and it creaked loudly as if to protest. The small gravel marking the winding, meandering path through the various headstones crunched under his feet as he made his way down, counting the rows. At row seven, he turned and walked down until he found a clean headstone above a freshly-turned patch of dirt, a rectangle the size of a person. 

Sighing, Shota eased himself down onto his knees, his prosthetic leg stretching out beside him— it was easier on his hip that way. He pulled the brown paper bag off the bottle of rum and then broke the faux gold foil seal. He stared down at it a second, just stared, and then exhaled quietly. 

“Hey, Nem,” he murmured. He reached up with his free hand to stroke the top of the stone, which was warmed by the bright spring sun. He fell silent again, throat bobbing as the emotions he’d been surprising for days welled up inside of him. The tears bubbled up and spilled over his eyes, carving through the layer of nightsweat and grime coating his unwashed face to bead in his beard. “I miss you, Nem,” he said finally, voice cracking. “So much.” 

His hand shook as it continued to run over the unblemished stone, down over the carved letters reading Kayama Nemuri. He leaned forward to press his forehead against the rock, closing his eyes and squeezing out more of the salty tears. “I never did take you up on that offer for drinks,” he said with a wan smile despite the despair tearing his heart apart. “So I brought you your favorite, on me.” He leaned back, then lifted the bottle to spill the alcohol over the gravestone. The light gray rock darkened as the clear liquid gushed over it, spilling over the smooth surface in rivers. It streamed down to soak into the grass at its base, soaking up the earth down, down, down to Nemuri’s casket six feet under. Shota didn’t drink a drop of the rum; he poured every bit of it over her gravemarker for her to enjoy. 

He sat there for a while, even after the hot sun had begun to evaporate the alcohol absorbed by the porous stone. Somehow, sitting there watching the color fade back to normal was cathartic. Like Nemuri was there, enjoying that rum. He could see the smile playing over her lips as she stirred a straw around a piña colada— and that’s when Shota felt the kiss of the sun, warming up his skin. He looked up to squint at the bubbling circle in the sky, then back down at the gravestone. Smirking, he patted the slightly damp rock before using it as leverage to push himself up. 

“Thanks, Nem. I’ll be back sometime, with drinks on me, of course,” he chuckled. He couldn’t linger here all day; he had work to do. Some upstart was out there whipping everyone up in a frenzy, and it was up to the heroes to bring him to justice. When they did, Shota would be sure to bring Nemuri a whole liquor store’s worth of rum— on him, of course. 

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[finsterhund]

Hey I fucking broke my ankle lmao

“I could really use a break right now” I say as I struggle with my dog having terminal cancer, my roommate pushing my limits, my money being nonexistent, and barely getting one meal a day.

A finger on the monkey’s paw that is me ever wanting anything in life curls again. Must have been a pretty fucked up monkey because there’s a lot of fingers on this thing by now.

So yeah, life thought I wasn’t going through enough already so it added broken fucking ankle to the list of Finsterhund suffering hours.

“I wish I wasn’t broke” is another good one. “here have a different broke then lol. go fuck yourself you rotting corpse of a victorian boy piece of shit”

here’s the goods. Got ex roommate to take photo of the screen. Doctor did not let me email the high res version to myself.

I did not go “waaaiii” on the way down, unfortunately. Life just isn’t like a video game. Probably didn’t look funny either. In reality I am a silent faller/injurer/whatever. Survival instincts of child abuse survivor I land and stay there as quiet as possible. I “grew out of” signals for help before teenage years. Which is a blessing in disguise because I don’t like people looking at me when I am hurt. it’s the “baby deer waiting for mom to come back instinct” I hide from predators.

My brain didn’t really process it when it happened. I just fell and heard a SNAP. If I had watched a video of it happening to someone else I would have found it gross but fortunately my brain just let me ignore it.

I was mostly immediately scared that I had somehow damaged the FIFTY DOLLAR dog calming aid that I got for Cazza in the pet store. I needed something like it for her and just seeing it in person and not having to pay 30 dollar shipping I was like “yeah. getting it here” fortunately the only fragile part is a little plastic capsule that imitates a heartbeat, which was packaged inside the toy inside the box. I hope. I have not opened it.

But the reason I fell is because I was also carrying giant bag of dog food. You see my vet recommended I switch out her food in light of the potential heart disease link. So I got the biggest bag of the best chicken stuff they had. My roommate might try saying that it was because the bag was too heavy. It wasn’t. I could lift that shit just fine. Bag was impossible for my impaired depth perception cringe fail line of vision to see around. The same visual impairment that prevents me from being able to drive a car made me think that I could put my foot down on the curb of the sidewalk. Dumb ass thought I was stepping OVER the curb.

Fortunately the bag of dog food broke my fall. Otherwise I’d have probably smashed my nose and teeth on the pavement. I really hope the expensive puppy calming toy is unharmed :( I say as I have a fucking broken leg.

So yeah. If you’ve seen labyrinth where David Bowie playing Jareth the Goblin King walks over all those weird ass fucked up stairs and ledges that are all a manner of odd angles? Specifically where he just takes steps that are at an angle that you cannot actually walk? Yeah I fucked up Jareth platform stairs walked over the fucking curb and snapp my legs

yes, I said legs.

Only my left is technically broken. It’s a Webber A something or other. I have a sick as hell photo if you wanna see. It’s included in this post.

But my right foot also got fucking fucked up. That one it snapped a tendon or a ligament or whatever the fuck. Get this, it snapped off a small piece of the gottamn bone. It’s not a break but it’s like it came off like a splinter. I made a joke in the hospital about how it’s like when you throw a sticky hand at the wall and when you pull it back a piece of the paint comes off with it. That was really fucking funny but nobody laughed. My friend’s group chat thought it was funny though. I did not get a photo of that foot and the tiny cringe sticky hand paint sliver bone.

I am on pain meds better than my normal pain meds. I can barely feel the legs in bed now.

So back to the parking lot. I landed on the dog food bag. I am hoping the calmeroos puppy is not broken or damaged in any way, I heard the snap but my brain is not registering the snap. This hurts “like a normal fall” I think at first. It hurts a lot of course, but I have the pain tolerance of a truck (thanks for this one Will) and a “heartwarming” story from my youth is that my mom didn’t believe my arm was broken both times it happened because I wasn’t “in pain enough” so I’ve got the firsthand experience to back that up.

Yeah then I try to fucking move my goddamn legs. Left one, broken one, there’s noises. Like cracking pop sounds. And pain. God fuck. It feels like the foot is loose and it’s only connected by fleshy flesh and muscle and skin. Aka like how my dislocated shoulder (that my mom also dismissed because I didn’t scream enough... after the lifeguard had alreayd put it back in...) had felt when I was 12.

So I’m like “oh god oh fuck oh god oh fuck I can’t get up or move” yeah my first response was “how the fuck am I going to escape?” I attempted to better myself to get up but absolutely not. Right foot feels like when I roll the damn thing which happens a lot. That *WAS* my bad ankle. sidkfjsdkfjskdf not anymore!!!!!

So an important note is that I’m technically better about my severe agoraphobia that my roommate can let me go into a store by myself provided he’s no more than a couple stores away. So while I’m waiting for a predator to pick my weak ass off outside the petstore he’s in the dollar store next door where I was supposed to meet him after putting the dog food in the car. The car I am now sitting next to. I have no way to get his attention because my phone is dead and also in my bedroom because it’s useless when not plugged into the wall.

Luckily the people parked next to us come out the store and see Mr fuck leg the fucked leg boy sitting on his bag of dog food between the cars and bless this family they help me out. By trying to get roommate out of the dollar store. Which doesn’t work. So they get the dollar store manager. Who then gets roommate out of the store. I was probably sitting there for 10 minutes or so. They had kids so I’m really trying not to let them see how fucked up the rapidly growing ankle balloon is.

But yeah. Eventually roommate come out the dollar store. And get this, he does the same shit my mom did every time anything ever fucking happened to me and is all “okay if it were really broken you’d be screaming right now” as I’m finally able to prop myself up enough to get into the car. That fucking triggered me real bad and I had a breakdown in the car while he went back into the dollar store to continue shopping.

Then we went to get food.

Then we went to costco.

He said that he would take me home and then if it was “still bad tomorrow” he’d take me to the ER.

So he tries to help me out of the car to the house.

I cannot put weight on the right leg either. It is agony. He’s trying to support the bad leg but the other leg need support too. A weaker man would have screamed but I just dropped to the parking lot ground and cried.

Made an attempt to crawl to the house but the gravel on my knees was just too much on top of everything else.

So FINALLY the ER is back on the menu. Ex roommate comes out because I need someone to support each foot. And they take me to their car and they drive me to the ER and I’m trying to eat a baconator while my foot is reminding me that we should have stayed as tiktaalik. you know, not fucking biped I want semi aquatic too please please please youre nothing

The wheelchairs in the ER are designed to offer full body support but the damn things are so hard to maneuver around and cannot be user operated. So I was sitting there having to get pushed around feeling like a dumb fuck because I hate needing assistance to move I hate it I hate it I hate it. I kept reaching down expecting to find the wheel handles but they weren’t there.

ER was... fun. There was a cool cartoon I’ve never seen before “Craig of the Creek” playing on the TV. I really want to see more of it I really liked it. But a fucking anti vax guy (YEAH REALLY) was swearing and bitching because there were kids shows on the TV This show was the only comfort I fucking had. Craig was spoonfeeding me comfort with his little freeze to death without your winter clothes adventure (RIP to him but I’m different)

But yeah. Once being treated it was all really nice. My ability to make constant jokes about fucked up injury death and suffering is a really good stress relief. Shout out to the xray tech who totally understood I use dark humor to cope and in response to my joke about how if I was a horse they'd just shoot me that I would “make wonderful glue” the other people were also very kind but I kinda felt they were intimidated by how “jovial” I was about the whole thing. Like yeah. I’m “handling it well” because that’s my whole strategy. Inside I’m screaming “please not the plates please not the plates please not the plates” (I am scared of having metal plates and screws.) Fortunately the stupid little cringe bone broke just low enough on the bone that I don’t have to get the plates and screws. I was literally begging Spot and she answered.

In my moment of weakness I decided that the true nature of the “Spot Power” is that she makes it so that when I’m going through shit I’m always “being so brave about it”

I kept thinking about how Cazza thought I had abandoned her though and while roommate did give her her evening walkies she was stressed and puked on the walk. Which fucking ruined my life and I cried more hearing that than the fucking leg.

So yeah. In canada crutches and the foot boot actually cost money. I’m out like 100 dollars. Plus like 30 because roommate wanted gas. I’m just used to it by now. I definitely need to plug Cazza’s gofundme again now though. Have no clue how I’m even going to take her to her appointments. I am hesitant to hope that roommate will give her as good walks as she needs.

There were more tears over the fact that I was going to fail Cazza than that I actually broke my fucking ankle.

This shouldn’t be a shock. I knew that eventually my visual impairment and my physical disability were going to team up on me and fuck up my body even worse somehow. Always thought it was going to be stairs though. A small comfort is apparently the x ray department has had four other people come in about the exact same curb. Yeah I kid you not. The curb between the redacted dollar store and the redacted pet store confirmed for Heart of Darkness 2: Andy Ankle Adventure

They were supposed to give me more pain meds but I guess I didn’t pick them up or they forgot or something. My brain is fried so i have no idea at all.

Crutches are a massive learning curve for someone with depth issues and balance issues. I almost fell face first on the goddamn crutches several times. If I wasn’t broke and you know, if I couldn’t fucking not leg broken walk leg I would go to hardware store and make a wheeling seat thing like those scooters in gym class and then I’d have Cazza pull me on walks. That would work.

Big issue is in and out of our place is fucking stairs. Yeah. I crawled up them on hands and knees. No way in hell with my already fucking broken mobility could I go crutches up them. I have to hold onto railing or I fall down stairs so crawling it was.

I can technically take the boot off to sleep but the tightness makes it so much better so fuck that. Wish I had the rolling elementary school gym class scooter so I could drag myself around the house.

Cazza doted on me like nothing else. She tried to brace me going up the stairs but she’s not big enough for what I’d need with this fucking leg problem. She helped me change out of my clothes though. Even though she’ll never be certified she’s still my everything.

The she cuddled close to me until I had calmed down and now she’s fast asleep in her bed. I am so glad I ended up giving her her bath before going out.

I am going to attempt to make it to my bloodwork appointment tomorrow. I have rescheduled that due to chemo appointments too many times.

I can’t remember if I’m forgetting anything else. Honestly my roommate telling me the exact same shit my mom did just fucking hurt so bad. I think I know my own body better than you do. Like I’ve told him about how she didn’t believe me and I had to beg her to take me to the hospital and he ended up doing the exact same shit. All because I didn’t outwardly exhibit being in enough pain apparently.

I just hate how being disabled you always have to fucking prove you’re disabled. Like I was expected to somehow walk back to the house and up the stairs but when I got to go to the ER yeah fucking broken lol.

I just wish I had parents. I need taking care of. I always did and I never got it.

I’m scared for the future. I don’t know how I’m going to manage or how I’m going to provide for Cazza.

I wish breaking my ankle could have made Cazza’s cancer go away

[crimsondustofficial]

A Diamond Heart

Oh god.

Who knew that he'd stoop to this level?

Well, considering that he was a former client of Valentino, and he completely bailed on him for not paying up. News certainly travels fast around Pentagram City. But the way that they found the poor guy. . .Poor bastard bled out from the various injuries delivered to him by the TV Demon Vox, while that son of a bitch Valentino stood off to the side, smoking a cigarette and let the pink smoke evaporate into the air before that god awful grin stretched onto his face, his gold tooth shining in the dim streetlight. Letting others do his dirty work and not getting any blood on him. . .

Fucking pathetic if you ask me.

From the bustling sounds of car horns beeping from annoyed workers who were just getting home and cursing up a storm at whoever's taking too long because of their exciting phone conversation, to a few gunshots sprinkled in there every once and awhile, and to finish off with the icing on this sinful cake, the disgusting and awful smell of death, gunpowder and cigarette smoke that lingered in the air of the city, this was the afterlife of the many Demons all over Hell. Sure, some were having very peaceful afterlives. Just doing what they usually do, maybe repeat something they did when they were still alive. And. . . others who haven't changed from their human shells before they broke and rotted away, leaving nothing but the soul left. Sin tendencies picking up after being on hold for God knows how long.

Of course, there was some rehabilitation.  What with the Princess of Hell going out of her way to try and cleanse the ugliness of the city's residents, her little passion project hasn't really helped her one bit because it was in a bit of a slump.Adding a little bit more smoke into the air, a soft exhale could be heard from the entrance of an alleyway. "What a Fucking mess. . .Ugh." A long pair of legs, that were certainly some eye candy for a lot of weird fellas, covered all the way up to the upper thigh with only a little bit of skin exposed before being covered by a hidden but short black mini skirt. Those thigh high, very dark yet fashionable high heeled legs crossed over meticulously while the owner of those legs rested their body against the brick wall of the alley they were standing in. Inhaling and letting out another soft exhale, a puff of rose magenta smoke escaped its way out of a mouth with small, sharp teeth and one beautiful, gold tooth sticking out. A tight pink and white striped suit clung to the body perfectly while the four arms that were out and showing, one fuchsia pink gloved arm holding a cigarette between the fingers while the other rested on the side in a sassy manner. The other two gloved arms were crossed in a bit of an angry note. Stale wind blew by through the Demon infested city, small tufts of white hair with some small, pink details danced with the air. Heavy eye shadow and eyeliner covered eyes, one white and one black, narrowed in what appeared to be frustration or complete anger, the bright pink irises shone brightly. What many residents of Pentagram City who went to the swanky studio in a part of the city would know who this person is. Or who've seen them around the block a few times, usually either smoking, joining in on the turf wars with another Demon, or going through a punishment from their Boss, there they were. Angel Dust. A good money maker and very well known adult star had unfortunately been sent out here by this corner by that motherfucker of a Boss, Valentino. Ugh, just that name made Angel wanna throw up. History with Valentino. . . it wasn't pleasant. Thankfully, his time was up and pushing his body off of the wall, the sound of high heels clicked and clacked against the concrete sidewalk before finally stopping in front of a large building. 'Hazbin Hotel' was what the sign basically screamed out for any newcomers to see. For a few weeks now, Angel Dust had been staying at this hotel in order to be cleansed of his sins with the help of the Princess of Hell herself and her girlfriend who at times looked like she wanted to rip him in half for what stupid act he pulls. Walking up to the second floor where his room was, Angel Dust then paused when he spotted a room with the door adjacent. Poking his head a little bit, his alluring pink irises took in every detail of the room. The theme had a sort of night black and blood red feeling. The night black paint covered the walls while the blood red covered the furniture surrounding the room. But lying on the small couch in the room was a little girl. She wasn't like the other Demons living in Hell. In fact, she was probably the only real Human to really be down in the city of Demons. Ruby Diamond was her name. She had the age and body of a small six year old girl, with honey blonde hair cut short and sprawled out behind her head. Her bright sky blue eyes were shut at the moment as her small chest rose and fell. Her small body rested with her head fell to the side, one arm resting on her slowly falling and rising stomach as the other arm was dangling off the side of the adjacent couch. However, the adult film star spider caught a glimpse of something very small and. . .pink. A small adorable face appeared from behind the couch as a small pig whose body was a mix of black and dark pink spots painted in various areas. The small pig headed over to Angel, only to give a happy little noise as Angel picked up the animal and hugged the pig close. "Did you miss your Daddy, Nuggs?" Angel asked in a sweet tone, looking down at his darling pig who was currently enjoying the warmth and softness of Angel's fluff. Gently taking his eyes off of his baby, the spider star's eyes locked onto the sleeping little girl on the couch. Fashionable high heels clicked and clacked quietly against the carpeted floor of the room, a dark silhouette cast over Ruby, who moaned quietly as her body jolted a second. Then, sweet dreams lulled her back into a deep slumber. Two free arms settled Nuggs down back onto the couch, giving his small head a light pat. Slowly and carefully, Ruby was swept up into Angel's arms, a content sigh of satisfaction of feeling the softness of his fluff and the warmth wrapping around her small body escaped her closed lips while her mouth stretched into a small, yet noticeable smile. Her usual hot pink and clean white dress had been folded up and off to the side by Vaggie earlier and her new outfit was a comfortable and clean baby blue nightgown that reached down to her knees. From where Angel was standing, Ruby had the position and appearance of a baby, trapped in a good dream. Quietly, high heels started up their clicking and clacking against the carpeted floor over to the black and red matching queen size bed. The cool, blood red bed sheets hugged Ruby's small body comfortably as a pair of hot pink gloved hands made sure that Ruby wasn't left feeling a chilly breeze blowing in through some sort of crack in the room or from the window if they were open, which they weren't. And the room didn't look super old enough to even have a hole. The other gloved hand brushed a few small strands of honey blonde hair out of Ruby's sleeping face. The sight was honestly something to cherish and hold in his heart for the rest of his afterlife. Lightly brushing his fingers against her soft cheek, Angel had the sheer determination of protecting that smile. That face. That. . . girl. The ugliness of what someone like Valentino could do to such a little treasure like Ruby pierced right through Angel's heart. "Sweet dreams, Precious." He whispered to her deaf ears before motioning to Nuggs to head out. Softly jumping off of the couch, Nuggs walked alongside his owner, who took one last glance over at the peacefully sleeping child. Making sure that the door didn't make any noise, Angel left the room, encasing it in total darkness and with no trace that he was ever there. "Such a sweet little girl, isn't she?" Perking his head up and looking over his shoulder, pink irises captured the permanently grinning face of Alastor. How long had that Radio Demon been standing in the hallway? It's not like Angel really cared, just as long as that grinning bastard wasn't gonna start popping up behind him. Unless he'd like to eat a whole bunch of bullets. "Just the way that she can wake up each day without a care in the world and a bright smile on her face. . . I just get scared." Angel replied, crossing over two of his arms, his eyes turned back to Ruby's door while Fat Nugget rested comfortably in the second pair of arms. "You're afraid that something might happen to her?" Alastor questioned, his head tilted to the side in a bit of confusion, his brow quirked just a tad. A quiet sigh escaped Angel's lips, his eyes half lidded but narrowed. "Valentino has broken a lot of people. Including me. I don't want her to end up in his web of abuse and manipulation if she ever meets him." Angel paused after a while before replying with certainty dripping from his voice. "She has a diamond heart, Angel. Very strong yet beautiful. As long as she feels safe here and is able to see you come back everyday, then that's all she can ask for." Alastor replied almost immediately, There was a soft pause in the hallway as Alastor's words were on repeat in Angel's mind. "Now then, I must take my leave. My radio broadcast won't start on its own. Until next time." Alastor bid Angel goodbye before taking his leave, disappearing after his body continued down the stairs to the main area, leaving Angel and Fat Nugget in the hallway. Heels clicked and clacked over to another door, a gentle push given to open it and the light from the hallway to shed some light into the room. Pink was splashed all over the room, from the walls to the furniture, even to the curtains. A brown box that had various sex toys thrown in haphazardly with the words ' sex toys' scratched out with black sharpie marker and 'work stuff' written over it. A small pink bean bag was the ultimate throne and bed for Fat Nugget. Settling his darling pet down into his bed, Angel rubbed Fat Nugget's head, however his face had a clear frown stuck onto it. Turning his head over to the tall mirror covered makeup dressing table, his heart wrenched. Gently slamming his hands onto the table, Angel's eyes darted in different directions before screwing closed tightly, his hands clenched into shaky fists. A cold sweat trickled down his forehead as an awful memory of Valentino taking advantage of him once more burned back into Angel's mind. Letting out a shaky breath and looking at himself in the mirror, Angel still had that frown and those narrowed eyes present on his face. "A diamond heart..."

[theweakestthing]

An Undone Bird

Chapter: 2/32

Pairings: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Rating: Teen

Additional Tags: Post-Episode AU: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Fix-It, Amnesia, Road Trips, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Injury Recovery, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean Winchester Is Trying, Canon-Typical Violence, Non-Graphic Violence, Literary References & Allusions, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Summary:

What now?

This might be the last chance they have, so Dean's not gonna waste it.

Read it on Ao3 here

A crackling sensation broke like static through the air around them, as though a storm was just about to break, like lightning could strike right beside them at any moment. Dean found himself sat behind the wheel of the impala outside the bunker. Moments ago, they’d been stood at the edge of a lake watching as Chuck and Jack stared each other down, and now he was a couple hundred miles away and inside a his car. At least Sam was sitting shotgun beside him.

“What happened, what the fuck just happened?” Dean asked, voice rough, as he turned to his brother.

“I don’t know,” Sam returned, hazel eyes wildly skidding over their surroundings.

“Where’s Jack?” Dean asked, looking around too, he shifted in his seat but there was nothing there. There was nothing but grass, the dirt road and the entrance to the bunker out beyond the confines of the car.

“I don’t know,” Sam replied with growing distress, his hair fell over his face as he whipped his head around.

“What the fuck?”

“I don’t know.”

Dean pushed his hands through his hair, his fingernails dragged over his scalp, as despair stared to creep in around the edges. They had lost so much. They had lost damn near everything. Jack was all they had left. Regret and guilt swelled inside him, there was so much he wanted to take back and ever more that he should have said, should have done. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe through it.

There was a whole host of things he wanted to take back and an entire Mariana trench of things he should have said to a lot of people that weren’t there to hear it. He wondered, if he prayed to Cas, would he hear it? Dean smacked his fist against the steering wheel. There was never time. It had barely been more than a week since Cas had gone, since Cas had sacrificed everything for them again. And the weight of Cas’ last words sat heavy in chest like cinder blocks weighing him down.

The reality of those words had barely sunk in. Dean couldn’t think about it, not now, not when the world might still be ending. If he let it wash over him then he was damn sure that he’d drown and then what use would he be?

What use was he now?

“Jack,” Sam yelled and clambered gangly out of the car.

Dean looked up and saw a swath of sandy hair splayed out against the dirt. That was all he needed to see before he was scrambling out of the car himself, almost eating dirt when he caught his foot between the seat and the floor, and all the while both he and Sam were calling for Jack. The boy groaned as he rose onto his hands and knees. That pristine white jacket was scuffed and smeared with dirt, his face was a little scratched up, and his hair was mussed and fell messily over his face.

Sam got there first. His long legs and head start working against Dean. He slipped his arms up under Jack’s armpit and hoisted him onto his feet. Jack’s feet dragged as Sam pulled him into a hug. The kid seemed pretty dazed. They held onto each other, fingers twisted in the fabric of their jackets, and Dean figured that none of them could afford to lose a single thing anymore.

“What happened?” Dean asked. He was sick of asking. And though he could have guessed some things, mostly there was no way that Jack would be there and in one piece if Chuck still had any power over them, but he needed to hear it.

“I – I did it,” Jack said, smiling up at Dean, still looking bewildered with Sam’s long fingers in his tussled hair.

“Did what?”

“It went just like we planned,” Jack said, and that innocent toothy childlike smile broke wide across his face, the sight of it made an odd sense of pride rise in Dean’s chest. “I absorbed his power, and now he’s just like everyone else.”

“Yeah, it’s what he deserves,” Dean spat. It was the least of it. To be just like the rest of them, powerless and insignificant, left to fight for his existence with the rest of the human race, the thought was vindictively satisfying.

“Wait, so you’ve got the power of God inside you, what about Amara?” Sam asked, alarm and concern barely restrained in the curled furrow of his brow.

“The balance of those powers now exists everywhere, I dispersed it evenly throughout the universe, and left enough in heaven to uphold it and left instruction for the remaining angels to turn it into what it was always meant to be,” Jack explained, looking between the brothers, as though he were simply talking about what he’d had for breakfast. “I also brought everyone back.”

Dean shared a look with Sam. It was over. It was finally over, the win to end all wins, and Dean wasn’t sure that he felt any kind of way about it. He was numb. Maybe the dam in his mind would break sometime soon and all those feelings he’d been holding back for all these years would finally pull him down into the undertow. He couldn’t afford that yet. Dean swallowed and turned his attention back to Jack.

“And you did all that in what, five minute?” he asked, one brow arched as he smiled in disbelief.

“I did most of it simultaneously, though I think I could have shaved several seconds off, but I’ve never done it before,” Jack said with a shrug, face slightly scrunched up, as though he were disappointed in himself.

“You’re really one of a kind kid,” Dean said through a short bark of laughter.

“So what now, you’ve got your grace back?” Sam asked, always the smarter and focused one, asking the important questions.

“No,” Jack replied, suddenly serious, “I expended nearly all my energy restoring everything and everyone,” he explained.

“You’re not dying again, are you?” Sam asked, stealing the words straight out of Dean’s mouth, his eyebrows reached toward his hairline.

“No, I’m not dying,” Jack shook his head and smiled softly, “I’m just mortal now, like you.”

“You could have been God,” Sam said, voice tinged with a strange sense of awe, as though that was something they might want to do given everything they’d been through.

“I’d rather be Jack Kline,” he said, “I’d rather be with you.”

The smile he shone at them was as bright as sunshine, blinding and warm, his eyes shimmered and Dean was pretty sure that if this went on any longer they’d all start tearing up. He felt the same. He’d rather have Jack right there with them, they didn’t need another God.

“We feel the same Jack,” Sam said, voice wavering as he held onto Jack’s shoulder.

“Yeah, we do,” Dean said.

And he finally put his hands on the boy. He hauled Jack toward him and held on tight. Dean enveloped Jack in his arms, and Jack gripped him too. Jack’s hands were caught in the back of Dean’s jacket, face buried in his shoulder, breaths harsh rapid across his collar bone. Dean pressed his face against the top of Jack head and closed his eyes. His family was back together and he was going to hold on to them this time.

As he stepped away from Jack, Dean ruffled his already unruly hair, and Jack ducked his head as he laughed. He had a lot to repair between them and that started here.

Sam went still for a moment, drawing their attention, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He stared at the screen and became still again, almost statuesque.

“It’s Eileen,” Sam said, voice quiet and brittle as his wide eyes began to shine, hands shaking. “She says she’s in Jasper, Arkansas,” he added, frowning slightly. “Dean, we have to go get her,” he looked up at Dean and Sam’s puppy soft expression so completely reminded him of the small boy he’d practically raised. That boundless hopeful smile took up his whole face, and who the hell was Dean to deny his younger brother?

“Of course we’re gonna get her Sammy,” Dean said, returning Sam’s smile. “C’mon kid, we’re going to Arkansas,” he added, herding Jack into the backseat of the car.

line break

The sun was just peaking over the horizon as they pulled around the corner. Eileen was sat on the bench at the bus stop, staring down the road, and the way her face lit up at the sight of Baby stole Dean’s breath. If Sam’s gasp was anything to go by, then he was feeling something similar, though probably more intense. It was good to see his brother so happy after everything.

Dean had barely pulled up to the curb when Sam barrelled out of the car like an overexcited Saint Bernard and wrapped his arms around Eileen. He lifted her clean off the sidewalk. And by the time Dean and Jack made their way over to the bus stop, Sam had set her back down, and they were staring at each other like a couple of lovesick teenagers. The sight of it filled Dean with such warmth that he might never feel the cold again. Yeah, it was fucking fantastic to see his brother happy again.

“Back from the dead, twice, you’re almost one of us,” Dean said, voice as clear as he could make it through his smile, hoping she could read his lips. He held his arms wide open.

Eileen punched his arm, smile taking up her pale oval face, and stepped into Dean’s embrace. Dean squeezed her tight for a few long seconds before letting her go.

“I’ve been dead three times,” Jack said and signed, like he was proud, and the sound of it twisted Dean’s gut into knots. Though, hopefully, he might have just been hungry. Eileen chuckled and hugged the kid.

“I don’t even wanna think about how many times we’ve died,” Sam muttered, brows furrowed as his eyes slid over to Dean.

“Hey, let’s not get all Eeyore suddenly,” Dean shot back, pointedly staring back at Sam as he tilted his head slightly toward Eileen. “It’s a good day, don’t wanna ruin it.”

Sam’s gaze returned to Eileen and his face broke into a smile again. And then they were back to staring at each other like there was no possible way for them to get enough, it didn’t even seem like they were aware of how they were leaning toward each other, but they were the only ones that seemed surprised when they finally kissed. Dean shook his head and looked over at Jack. The boy simply smiled back at him, pride written all over his face, and Dean couldn’t stop it from swelling inside him too.

They all owed Jack so much.

Dean was yanked from his rose-tinted thoughts by his phone vibrating against his thigh. He pulled it out of his pocket and checked the caller ID, he didn’t recognise the number but he answered anyway, you never knew who could be in trouble.

“Hey,” Dean breathed into the phone, unable to keep the smile from his face.

“Hello, sorry to bother you, but I work for the Willapa Harbor hospital in South Bend,” came the gentle voice of a woman, she sounded professional but empathetic.

“Which South Bend?” Dean asked, thoroughly confused.

“Washington,” she replied. They were about a whole twenty six to thirty hours from Washington depending on which part she was calling from. “We have a patient here by the name of James Novak, your number was in his phone.”

Dean’s heart stuttered in his chest, the force of it made him gasp, and he was blinking back tears before he knew it. It was Cas, it had to be. The woman on the phone was calling out to him.

“Yeah, yeah I know Jimmy, he’s family. What’s happened to him?” Dean’s heart was beating like a jackhammer against the back of his sternum, trying for a jail break.

“Alright sir, well he’s been in a car accident and he’s suffered a head trauma and has a concussion, and he has a broken collarbone, he also appears to have amnesia,” she explained, tone soft and clear.

“Amnesia?” Dean barked, his brows leaped up his forehead as he watched the traffic whizz by, the world really was alive again and Dean had no idea how to deal with it.

“Yes.”

“Okay, okay,” Dean muttered as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to think, “we’ll be there in a few days, we’re coming all the way from Arkansas ya see,” his vision was swimming, he sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

“That’s alright sir, we just need some information and then I can let you go,” she said, and Dean could hear the clacking of a keyboard.

He nodded, despite himself, and reeled off some info both real and fake before eventually hanging up. The blank phone screen stared back at him. Dean continued to stand there, frozen to the spot. It was Cas.

“What’s up Dean?” Sam called. He was only a few feet away, but to Dean it sounded like he was at the other end of a long dark tunnel.

“It’s Cas,” Dean said, voice thick, he blinked at his phone screen. “He’s in a hospital in South Bend, Washington,” he added, brows pinched as he tried not to let the relief overwhelm him.

“He’s in a hospital,” Sam repeated, face scrunched in confusion, “how’s he in a hospital?”

They both turned to Jack.

“I brought him back graceless, mortal, I figured that way the Empty can’t get him again and really it was the only way I was able to pull it off. And I placed him in North Cove, not for any particular reason, I guess it was just the first place that came to mind and I was resurrecting nearly eight billion other people at the time too,” Jack explained, blinking in that lost and innocent way of his, like a concerned puppy. “Though it is concerning that he’s in a hospital,” he added, frowning.

“They said he’s got amnesia,” Dean muttered, turning back to Sam.

“Amnesia?” Jack asked, head tilted in that way that made Dean’s chest ache, like father like adopted son Dean supposed.

“He’s lost his memory?” Sam said, his brows raised in alarm.

“Yeah,” Dean swallowed hard before continuing, “he was probably disorientated and confused or something. They said he got hit by a car.” He suddenly remembered that his phone was still in his hand and set his mind to sliding it back into his pocket, better that than to think about Cas, dazed and confused, being hit by car. “Why didn’t you say anything about Cas?” he rounded on Jack.

“I did,” Jack said, almost defensive, hands sliding into his jacket pockets as he turned to face Dean.

“When?” Dean bit back, brow furrowed and anger rising. If he’d have known then he could have called Cas and maybe they wouldn’t be about to spend a few days driving, maybe they could have met in the middle and Cas would be okay. Sam shot him a look, but Dean didn’t care, it was a pretty damn big thing to miss out.

“I told you I brought everyone back,” Jack said, expression twisted with confusion and frustration, “everyone I could anyway.”

Dean sighed, closing his eyes. He’d been so close to chewing the kid out, but he smothered the urge, and forced that anger all the way down into his gut. That wasn’t him anymore, he was trying to be better. He knew now and that was all that mattered.

Instead of saying anything, he just nodded.

“What’s going on?” Eileen asked, signing as she spoke, she looked between the three of them huddled on the sidewalk.

“Uh, Dean got a call, and Cas, he’s alive and he’s in a hospital in Washington, he was hit by a car,” Sam said, words stilted as he did his best to sign along.

“Then what are we doing, waiting for the bus? Let’s go already,” Eileen said and started to push them toward the car, Dean stumbled as Jack fell against his side, she was surprisingly strong.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Back Again

Request: #143 + #144 for anon – “You make me feel the happiest I’ve ever been.” & “I am so lucky to have you.”

Anonymous said:

Can I get a Mark Tuan Drabble with #143 and #144 from the prompt list? Thank you!! You’re one of my favorite writers btw!! I love your recent Air Force series it’s soooo good! Have a lovely day!

Pairing: Mark Tuan x reader

Genre: friends to lovers / angst / romance / fluff

Warnings: none

Word count: 4396

Applause filled the garden as the two standing under the archway shared their first kiss as husband and wife. You grinned, wiping away the tears that fell watching one of your closest friends finally secure her Mr Right.

Weddings always made you mushy and hope for your fairytale ending someday soon.

They also brought a lot of people all into one venue, some in which you wouldn’t normally see in day to day life. Especially when you bumped into a man you would have expected to be the last person to receive an invite to this wedding. Blinking rapidly as a warm smile crossed his face; you grabbed onto his lower arm and stepped closer. “Please tell me you didn’t come to crash this, Mark.”

“Now why would I want to do that? Besides, aren’t I a little too late to do such a thing?” he mused, lifting the champagne flute to his lips and you watched the action in a haze for a moment, your eyes soon narrowing on him in confusion.

“You were invited?”

Mark nodded. “The groom’s my cousin, remember?”

“And the bride is your ex,” you muttered, not intending for the man before you to hear but he must have since he chuckled at your concern.

“Ease up, Y/N. It’s a celebration and Lucy and I are well and truly old history.”

It wasn’t as simple as that. Not for you, anyway. It never had been when it came to Mark Tuan. Still, you attempted a smile. He was right, the vows had been exchanged and rings firmly upon their fingers. Lucy and Henry were a match made in heaven, nothing would rock their boat, you were certain of it.

Reaching out for a champagne glass as a waiter walked by, you took a gulp before you relaxed properly. Mark stood there grinning, watching you as if your little panic had given him more enjoyment than the entire day had. Perhaps, it did. All you knew was that someone who you had grieved losing from your world was standing before you.

And you were conflicted as an individual and as a loyal friend of what you should do. Deciding for you, Mark slung an arm over your bare shoulders, pulling you closer to him. “I think we have a lot to catch up on, don’t you?”

“Three years sure went by fast enough,” you agreed, allowing him to lead you over to a vacated table where you spent the rest of the reception catching up. You hadn’t laughed this much in ages, and Mark was just as you remembered him to be.

You sighed, resting your head on your hands. “I have to admit, I’m glad you’re here tonight.”

“Really? I thought you were going to march me out the back door as soon as you could,” he teased and you grinned, nodding softly at his sentence. Mark feigned being offended. “And here I thought we were the best of friends, Y/N. I’m hurt.”

Once, you both had been far closer than tonight. You had grown up in the same suburb, gone to the same schools and even the same university. It was there that you met Lucy and become incredibly close over the first semester with her. She soon joined your gatherings with other friends and set her eyes on Mark.

Their relationship was intense, and although you hadn’t openly shown it, you were jealous of them both. You missed the times where the three of you would just hang out and unwind from the stress of endless studies. Your loneliness was made obvious the deeper they got, and although you had a brief stint dating a friend of Lucy’s, it didn’t last long.

Because you wanted to be with Mark.

“Friends,” you mentioned as you broke out of your memories, nodding in his direction, squashing away the ghost of your feelings. “It’s been odd not seeing you around, Mark.”

He stared at you then, expression unreadable as his smile faded. His umber eyes grew hesitant, blinking a few times as he reached under the table for something. Pulling out his phone, he handed it over to you. “Let’s change that, shall we? Give me your number. Friends should have a way to contact one another, right?”

You took the device and typed in your details, inwardly struggling through the turmoil of your thoughts. You smiled all the same as you handed it back to him, now connected by some digits to see if fate would pull you both back together.

Or if you would remain as fond memories, your lives having drifted too far apart.

Staring up at the man you had opened the café door into abruptly, you began to smile, a chuckle soon leaving your lips. You had literally just smacked him with it and yet he was laughing as well, which would have seemed a little off to anyone who had watched the incident.

But you were just too happy to bang into him like this.

“The door?” Mark mused and you let go of it suddenly, stepping outside and grinning at him. “It’s been a while, Y/N.”

“I could say the same about you,” you greeted and then he looked into the coffee shop you exited. Finally, you started to connect things together. “Oh! You were going inside there, right?”

He nodded. “Morning fuel is needed.”

“I should buy you a coffee. I did just hit you with a door and all. Are you okay?” you offered, searching him over for obvious signs of injury. Mark laughed at your sudden concern, waving you off immediately.

“I’m stronger than I look.”

“That much I know,” you retorted, a communal smile shared as you thought back to the night you had taken on everyone willing to arm wrestle you at a house party. Only Mark had been fair in the game with you, and although at the time you weren’t completely lucid, given the alcohol in your system, you had been frustrated that the others went easy on you. Then again, you had tumbled around as kids, it made sense there was no hesitation in Mark to do it as an adult either.

“So, this coffee?”

“Right!” you exclaimed, turning back around for the door, only to end up with a similar fate waiting for you when you went to reach for it. Mark pulled you back just in time, your body now within his firm grasp, the other person sending a hasty apology on their way out to the sidewalk. You were certain you had forgotten to breathe, given how close you still were to the man behind you, and you could tell he was stronger than you remembered as well. Mark had always been slender growing up, but despite the clothing between you, it was apparent over the last few years he had been hitting up a gym with how toned his torso and arms were around you.

Springing away from him in heated embarrassment, you dashed up into the coffee shop, ordering him a coffee in the way he used to have it. Mark leaned over your shoulder and you visibly jumped. “Actually, can you change that to an Americano?”

“You don’t like it sweet anymore?” you wondered and he gave you a long hard look before shrugging it off with a smile.

“Tastes can change,” Mark stated, moving away as you paid for his drink. You waited in semi-comfortable silence until the takeout cup was placed in his hand, heading back out into the morning bustle.

“So, I didn’t know you worked over this way,” you said after a couple of minutes of walking still in silence, glancing at Mark and finding him staring at you. It threw you off and you lost your footing, his hand shooting out to save you for the second time today.

Mark smirked. “Since when were you such a damsel in distress?”

“Well, we keep bumping into each other every time we met, it must be the effect you have on me.”

“I make you clumsy?” he concluded with a snort, shaking his head gently. “That’s a new one.”

“You also know how to hold onto a phone number and not contact it once. It’s been, what, six months since Lucy got married?”

“I distinctly remember my number being saved into your contacts list too,” Mark mentioned with a grin, waving his coffee cup around a little as he talked. You smiled; it had always been a quirk of his to talk with his hands when animated.

God, you had missed it.

You missed him.

Still, your brain was all too wily and reminded you instantly as to why Mark hadn’t been around. You sighed. “Perhaps there’s no need for our lives to step so closely back together after all the years. Like you said, taste’s change.”

“You’re the same as I remember you,” Mark murmured and you looked up at him as he had his moment, a playful grin spreading on his lips. “Clumsiness included.”

“I’m not that clumsy!” you complained and Mark laughed, his giggles brightening your mood yet again. You felt as if you were on a wild rollercoaster ride, the ups and downs throwing you off your game.

You were surprised to be relieved when you saw your office up ahead, just so you could get off this ride and be back on stable footing. “Well, this is me.”

“I know.”

“You knew I worked for Archer and Sons?” you questioned suddenly and Mark nodded.

“I know a whole lot of useless information,” he joked, though it didn’t hold the same effect as before. Rocking on his heels, Mark chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “Are you free tonight?”

“Well, I’m finishing at seven but yeah, why?”

“Should we do dinner?” he offered and your smile faded, his anxious gaze darting between yours and the tree behind you on the sidewalk. He attempted to remain carefree. “You gotta eat, Y/N and so do I.”

“Mark,” you started and it pained you to see his shoulders slump with dreaded anticipation at your denial. You wondered for a split second if you truly were as you had been back then.

He hadn’t known about your crush on him, however.

“Too busy, after all?” he offered and you shook your head. “Right, because of Lucy. Got it.”

“It’d just be weird, you know? What do I tell her when she finds out?”

“Two people shared some food and good times, just like we did at her wedding? Did she pull you up for it then?”

You smiled, reaching out for Mark’s upper arm apologetically. “Maybe another time?”

“Sure, a rain check.” He was ready to escape now, moving away from you and walking backwards, holding up his coffee cup. “Thanks for this.”

“It was nice seeing you!” you called after his departure, your heart thudding heavily in your chest until he rounded the corner out of sight.

It was too good seeing him again.

You couldn’t believe the odds.

It had been so long since you were actively seeing your childhood friend in your world. Right after breaking up with Lucy, he disappeared, shutting off all contact with you. At least, that was how it felt, and you had assumed you wouldn’t cross paths with Mark again in this lifetime. When you had at the wedding, well, it was a moment in life where it wasn’t a normal setting and so it worked. Since the coffee shop incident, however, you had seen Mark a total of four times in three weeks.

And now, your fifth was in the grocery store.

As a creature of routine, you would do your grocery shopping every Saturday morning. Saturday had always been your day set aside to catch up around your apartment and run any errands you needed to before you spent the entirety of Sunday relaxing and preparing for your return to the working week.

And yet, in all your years of having this engrained schedule, you had never seen Mark enter a grocery store at the same time as you. In fact, you were sure he didn’t even see the morning sun until it was high in the sky and classed as the afternoon sun if he didn’t have to.

So why was he in your grocery store at 10 am of all times?

Mark was genuinely surprised to see you there as well, blinking a few times and hesitating on whether to push his cart your way or not. It came with the awkwardness that had seeped between you, your friendship battling through not knowing what level it was on with every encounter. Still, it was all too easy to talk with one another. Just as you had your whole lives, there was always something to talk about.

And today it seemed it would start with zucchini.

“Do I get a bag of them or just a couple?” he wondered and you smiled at his dilemma, posing your index finger to your lips in thought.

“Well, are you going to use them in a big dish or not?”

“Any recipe ideas? I was told to add them into my morning smoothies since there isn’t a distinctive taste,” Mark explained and you recoiled at how grown up the statement sounded. He laughed at your reaction. “Apparently, I eat too much meat and need to have more of a balanced diet due to high cholesterol.”

“You?” Eying him carefully, you then smiled. “You could make mini pizza bites with them. Or zucchini lasagne. There’s a lot you can do with them, actually.”

“Big bag it is,” Mark confirmed, picking up what he required and placed it in his cart. You reached around him to grab yourself a bag and he arched a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Well, now that I’ve mentioned those ideas, I want to make them.”

“We could do it together if you want? I wouldn’t know the first thing about making them and could use the help.”

“Are you asking me on another dinner date?”

Mark nodded. “This time at my place too. Can you even handle the idea of that?”

You didn’t want to admit the nervous flutters in your stomach that had just erupted felt as if they couldn’t handle that at all. But the way Mark was smiling at you, well, you were nodding before you realised it. “Fine, I’ll come to yours. When do you want me?”

“Uh–” Mark’s happiness was broken as he had a flash of thought, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tonight? Do you have plans?”

“No. But you seem like you do,” you mused, pushing off with your cart to the stack of bananas. Mark followed you hastily, reaching for a bunch himself. You glanced at him bemusedly. “I can come another time if you–”

“No, I’m free tonight. I just need to make sure my housemate Jackson isn’t.”

“He’s welcome to join us,” you offered and Mark shook his head, sending another round of those flutters through your stomach.

With your hope now building, you were certain he was making this a date.

“Just us, and the zucchini,” he confirmed with a laugh and you grinned, nodding in agreement.

“Send me your address and I’ll make sure you’ll be convinced that they’re a staple vegetable for your diet.”

“Deal,” Mark replied, already pulling out his phone to text you the information you required.

And after several panicked hours, many potential excuse messages written and then deleted before pressing send, and finally getting ready, you stood in front of his door and pressed the doorbell gingerly.

Mark appeared shortly after, face flushed as he took your appearance in before inviting you inside. You gasped when you were greeted by an unexpected housemate. Crouching down to pet the dog, you fussed over it whilst Mark watched on with a smile. “His name is Milo.”

“Hey! That was my name. I said I was going to call my pet that if I ever got one.”

“Do you have a dog, Y/N?” he bartered and you huffed at Mark’s thieving ways before smiling back down at the canine nuzzling your hand.

“You’re lucky you’re adorable and suit the name perfectly,” you humoured, petting the dog before standing back up. “Lead the way to your kitchen then.”

You had decided to do mini pizza bites tonight. It was a simple recipe and since the zucchini pack Mark had chosen were all rather large, it made for perfect little pizza bases. You cut several slices before loading them up with pizza sauce and your preferred toppings, and then popped them into the oven you had preheated.

“Wow, that’s really simple to make,” Mark enthused when you pulled them out of the oven shortly after, arranging them all onto the plate he had out for them. You then reached for your bag, retrieving a large container.

“Since the pizza bites on their own are more of an appetiser, I also prepared a salad. I didn’t know what you would have on hand here so I thought to make it ahead of time.”

“Were you always this adept in the kitchen, Y/N?”

“You used to scoff all the cookies I would bake for our classes, remember?”

Mark grinned. “How has nobody wifed you yet?”

It was meant to be a joke, that much you could tell. But when you both glanced at each other, the mood faltered, Mark clearing his throat as your cheeks flushed with colour. Soon recovered, you shrugged. “Maybe Mr Right isn’t ready for me yet.”

You avoided his gaze, not letting on that you had always imagined moments like this in the past. Today hadn’t helped either. Meeting in the grocery store had morphed into a day of imagining Mark doing everything domestic with you. From shopping to cleaning, you had envisioned it all, and now that you had just cooked dinner together, you were feeling a little on edge.

You were grateful when Mark pulled out a bottle of wine. “To say thanks for your cooking skills and to complement our good food choices.”

“One glass shouldn’t hurt,” you agreed, gulping half of it down in one go.

The night was wearing on and the bottle of wine had been emptied. You conversed over a range of topics, from future goals to funny anecdotes, the laughter and wine flowing effortlessly.

Finally, you had enough liquid courage to ask him why everything happened back then. Mark looked at you, surprised. “What did you just say?”

“Why did you cheat on Lucy?”

“Is that what she told you happened?” Mark asked and you clutched your glass to your chest, brows furrowing together. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “I guess I can see why she would.”

“You didn’t cheat on her?”

“Do I seem like the type to do that?”

You hummed an unanswerable tone. “I never thought once I’d lose you from my world, but it happened. So anything’s possible, right?”

“I didn’t cheat on her, Y/N. I broke up with her because I didn’t want to hurt her anymore.”

“But...” you started, scooting closer to Mark with your confusion. “You hurt her when you broke up with her. She was a mess! Do you know how many weeks she cried on my bedroom floor saying she would never find love again? She was broken.”

“It was true that I liked someone else. Which is why I ended things with Lucy,” he admitted, gaze now guarded. “It wasn’t fair to either of us.”

“So you left her for another woman.” Nodding slowly, you lifted the glass to your lips. Still, it felt just as cruel as cheating had, though you were relieved your initial belief that Mark would never cheat on anyone had been right. His parents had raised him up too well to do something that dishonest. Guilt flared in your stomach at your eventual acceptance that he had and you tried to slosh it away with more wine.

Mark took the drink from your hand and you whined.

“I never got the woman either.”

“What?” Sitting up, you pointed in his direction. “Why not?”

“Because she was out of my reach, she always had been.”

“Then she clearly didn’t deserve you.”

“No, I suppose she deserved far better. Though when I saw her dating someone, it made me realise I was in the wrong relationship.” Mark was staring intently at you now and you stopped moving, signs pointing inwardly. Your hand slipped from the table you had rested it on in realisation and thudded onto the floor.

“You know, I really did try. But you’re right, I hurt Lucy. And she made it clear that if she had to lose me, then there was no way she’d let me have you too.”

Even though you had concluded it was you, it still shocked you for the pronoun to change from she to you. “Mark-”

“I figured, I’d never see you again too when all the walls built up around you by Lucy. Then I received the wedding invitation. I don’t know, I held some hope that maybe I’d see you again, that you would be happy to see me too. And then finding out you were still single, well I–”

Perhaps it was the alcohol. Or it was the fact that Mark just told you he got jealous seeing you with someone else like you had him. Maybe you just plain old didn’t need to hear anything more since your heart was beating fast enough. Whatever it was that led you to lean over and kiss him felt worth it when your lips met his. He didn’t hesitate, mouth now moving against yours with a passion you had never experienced before. Soon entangled, both lips and limbs, you were moaning with the heady pleasure of kissing Mark.

This had been a part of your fantasies earlier on too. But you hadn’t expected it to feel this good.

When you finally separated, now breathless and dishevelled, you felt vulnerable and as if you needed to explain yourself. “It’s just that I, well I always… and um–”

“You know, I half-wondered if Lucy kept us apart for more than just her own healing. I don’t hold it against her but I was sure you liked me too.”

“I did,” you announced, nodding softly. “I mean, I do.”

“Even now?”

You nodded again. “I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t.”

“Mind if I kiss you again?” Mark asked and you swooned, smiling as you nodded for the third time.

When his lips found yours, you decided that this time around, you would tell Mark about everything you felt for him. There would be no regrets, no feeble acceptance. You wouldn’t let anyone stop you from being with him.

“You make me feel the happiest I’ve ever been.”

Rolling over so you could face the man uttering such words, you pressed your hand to Mark’s bare chest, marvelling at the sparkle on your finger before smiling up at him. Mark’s arms encircled you, bringing you closer so he could kiss the tip of your nose. He then moved to your lips whilst mumbling, “I am so lucky to have you.”

You hummed with appreciation, kissing him several times over before stilling again, entrapped with his loving gaze.

Three years had passed again, yet this time, it was spent together. You had dated, fallen deeply in love, moved in together and last night he had finally popped the question.

You would marry next year.

“How lucky?” you asked with a sigh, chewing on your lip giddily. “How happy?”

“Didn’t you just hear me?”

You shook your head innocently. “Hear what?”

“Trust you,” he answered with a chuckle, hugging you tenderly. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you even more.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Oh, you’re going to argue this out with me?”

“You didn’t ask me to marry you first,” Mark pointed out and you gaped at your fiancé, poking him firmly in the chest. “Therefore I win.”

“I should’ve said no,” you grumbled and Mark brushed his lips over your forehead, knowing you would melt immediately. Your protests simmered.

“It’s a good thing you said yes.”

“Do you think had you not dated Lucy, we might have been married already?” you wondered, and Mark smiled at your question.

“If I didn���t, do you think you would have spoken up about your crush?”

You glanced away, knowing back then you had been too shy to think of such a thing. And then you pouted. “I should have dated someone first. Then you would have gotten jealous earlier and–”

Mark kissed away your alternate pathways, shaking his head as he did so. “No, this is how we were meant to be. It wouldn’t be as good as it is now had we not had a reason to step toward each other like this. Besides, Lucy is really happy for us. Why do we need to change a thing?”

“Well, we do need to change some things,” you murmured, sitting up, much to Mark’s chagrin. “It’s Saturday morning, after all.”

“Babe, we just got engaged last night. Can’t we spend more of the morning in this bed together?”

You shook your head, slipping out from under the covers. “I can’t wait any longer.”

“Your need for that schedule is really pressing, huh?”

“No, it’s not that,” you corrected, backing up towards the ensuite where you would shower to start your day. Mark eyed you curiously. “I just need to start doing things with my fiancé. The shopping, the house chores, I want to feel what it’s like to do them now I’m engaged.”

“You’re so incredibly adorable,” he told you, getting up from the bed and coming over to you in the threshold. Wrapping his arms around you again, Mark leaned down to kiss you. “Okay, let’s experience it all.”

“Even our first shower together as an engaged couple?” you questioned and his mouth twitched, a giggle leaving you at his sudden eagerness.

“Why didn’t you say so earlier, we have a lot to get through today!”

You had finally found your Mr Right. After losing sight of Mark years ago, you were certain there would be no need to do anything apart from each other now.

_________________

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[prettyinlimegreenboots]

“never do that again”

A note before you start reading - there’s mentions of hospital, blood, stitches - nothing too gory but I know some people are squeamish. You’ve been warned!!

She had gotten a call from an unfamiliar number telling her she needed to come to the hospital, that her husband and brother-in-law were brought in. Heart pounding, blood rushing to her head, she quickly grabbed her items, only stopping to tell her boss what was going on and that she’d have her cell if he needed her. She denied his offers to take her, needing to get there as quickly as possible.

Walking into the emergency department of the local hospital, she scanned the area looking for someone who at least knew what was going on. Walking up to the nurse’s desk, she tapped her foot, waiting for the couple in front of her to finish. She was thinking of all the ways she could kill Jack and Race for putting her through the worry and stress.

“Next?” She was knocked out of her thoughts by the nurse. She walked up to the desk, hands shaking with nerves before smiling. “I got a call that Jack Kelly and Antonio Higgins-Conlon were brought in?”

“Relationship to them?” The nurse typed something into the computer.

She cleared her throat, trying to get her emotions under control. “Jack is my husband and Antonio is my brother.”

“They’re just being seen by a doctor. She should be out shortly to update you.” The nurse stood, pointing to an area over her shoulder. “You can wait over there and I’ll let the doctor know you’re here. What was your name?”

“Katherine Kelly.” She tried to smile but it was faint. “Thank you.”

Kat walked over to the area the nurse indicated before taking a seat. She texted Spot to let him know she was at the hospital. Her feet tapped, impatient and eager to learn the condition and injuries of the two men. She checked her phone but there were no messages.

Scanning the room, she ignored all of the commotion and narrowed her eyes on a little girl and her mother. Both were giggling about something. Kat felt herself smiling at them, despite still being worried about Jack and Race.

She sighed, looking at the clock on the wall, leaning her head against the wall behind her. It had only been 45 minutes since she got the call. “Kat?”

Looking up, she sighed before throwing herself at Spot, letting herself relax just enough for the tears she had been holding onto to finally falling. “Hey, hey you’re okay. They're both fine, dumbasses but fine.”

He held her for a few minutes until she pulled away. “Sorry” She pulled back, wiping at her eyes, taking a seat beside her brother-in-law. “What happened?”

“Don’t apologize! According to Race, he convinced Jack to let him teach him how to skateboard. Race said it was going pretty good, until Jack hit a crack in the sidewalk, and he fell forward, splitting open his forehead.” Spot shook his head.

Kat’s eyes went wide. “Is Race hurt too?”

“Yea, somehow the dumbass name my husband broke his arm in the commotion of things.” Spot said lovingly. “I’m about to hurt the two of them.”

Squeezing his hand, Kat sighed. “I’m glad you got the scoop. All I got was a call from an unknown number telling me that Jack and Race were brought in.”

“Oh Shit, Kat I’m sorry, I didn’t call you. Race said he would do it.” Spot shook his head, sighing.

Silence descended over them until a doctor came out and the nurse pointed in their direction. “Katherine Kelly?”

“Yes.” She stood, Spot following her. “This is Sean Higgins-Conlon, Antonio’s husband.”

The doctor smiled at both of them. “I apologize for the delay. I’m Dr. Thomas, and I just finished checking over both of your husbands. Jack had to get 15 stitches in the front of his head, right above his eyebrow. We are giving him a blood transfusion due to the amount of blood he lost. He also has a concussion that we need to monitor for a bit. He also has a fair amount of bruising, but none are serious.”

Kat nodded, taking all the information in. “And Antonio?”

“Antonio broke the radius, the shorter of the two arm bones. The nurse is putting a cast on his arm now that will need to be in place for at least 6 weeks. He also has some bruises but none are serious.” The doctor reviewed her notes. “Do either of you have any questions?”

Spot shook his head while Kat bit her lip. “Will they be discharged today or will they need to stay overnight?”

“Antonio will be discharged in a few hours. However, we will need to monitor Jack due to his concussion. If anything, we’ll discharge him around 6pm if all is well. If not, he’ll have to stay the night and he’ll be discharged tomorrow morning. We’ll play it by ear.” She smiled. “He’s quite lucky that it wasn’t anything more serious.”

Kat smiled. “Thank you. Can we see them?”

She nodded, motioning them to follow her, stopping at a closed door. “We put them in a private room, since they’re family. They’re right in here.”

“Thank you Dr Thomas.” Kat leaned her body against the wall to catch her breath. She took several deep breaths, to both calm her racing heart rate and her anger at the stupidity of the two.

“You okay?” Spot mimicked her stance against the wall, giving her a look of concern. “I can kick both of their asses for you if you want.”

Nodding, she looked over at him with a giggle. “I may take you up on kicking their asses. I’m debating between being worried sick and wanting to kill them both myself. And I’m trying to calm down.”

Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, she faced the door before knocking softly. The voices inside had stilled before one of them called to come in.

Pushing open the door slowly, she watched as a lazy smile stretched across her husband’s face. She narrowed her eyes on him as Spot went to Race’s side. “Hi honey.”

Shaking her head, she stayed quiet, eyes sweeping over him. He had two IVs in his arm - one delivering blood, the other saline, a big white bandage over his eyebrow, and a smile on his face. “Don’t hi honey me. If you weren’t in this bed, Jack Kelly.”

“Hey, hey, I’m okay.” He grabbed her hand, hoping to reassure her before the tears started. “My head is thicker than it looks.”

She held back the urge to hit him but all she wanted to do is cause him as much pain as he caused her. “You’re an idiot, Jack. And not as young as you once were. Spot offered me to kick your ass for me.”

“Yea, remind me never to let Race convince me to let him teach me something new.” Jack grimaced.

“Never do that again.” She amended. “You scared me. I never want to get a phone call like that again.”

Jack bit his lip, feeling awful. “I’m sorry.”

“Just know that you scared me and I don’t want to feel that way again.” She smiled, turning to look at Race. “Are you doing okay?”

He waved his bright neon yellow cast. “As well as I can be. Sorry about the drama, Kat. I thought I picked a smooth section.”

“As Spot said in the waiting room, you’re both dumbasses. But we love you.” She squeezed Jack’s hand and smiled at Race. “Spot offered to kick your asses for me. I’m still debating on whether I’m taking him up on that offer.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed beside Jack, she looked up at the bag of blood. She listened to Race, Spot, and Jack talk, all while Jack occasionally squeezed her hand.

“I’m okay. I love you.” Jack leaned up and kissed her. “I was kinda scared of what version of Kat I was going to get - calm and collected or a pissed off one.”

Kat raised an eyebrow at him. “And which one were you hoping for?”

“Whichever one didn’t cuff me over the head.” Jack admitted with a shrug.

Spot snorted. “She was really close to killing you both over the head. She took several deep breaths outside the door before we walked in.”

“Never again, Jack Kelly.” She gave him a look. “You’re confined to the couch when we get home.”

Jack looked at her. “When can we leave?”

“Race is probably going to leave sooner than you are. You have a concussion.” Kat shook her head. “Earliest the doctor said was before 6pm but you might have to spend the night.”

Jack threw his head back before groaning at the pain it caused.

“Betcha that felt great. Don’t do that.” Kat rolled her eyes at her husband, swatting at his arm. “Did they give you anything?”

Jack pouted. “No, they said I couldn’t until after the concussion protocol was over.”

“Sorry babe.” Kat squeezed his hand. “But what have you learned?”

Glaring at his brother, Jack sighed. “Race is a dumbass, never listen to him, and a busted foreheads hurts a hell of a lot.”

“Hey now!” Race piped up. “I didn’t hold a gun to your head and demand that you go skateboarding. I asked if you wanted to tag along and possibly learn.”

Spot and Kat traded looks. “You’re both dumbasses and you’re going to remember this for a really long time.”

“Good.” Kat kissed his forehead, relaxing against him, thanking her blessings, that two of the most important men in her life were okay.

Thank you @wide-eyed--wonderer for sending this in. It kinda got away from me ☺️

[7official7moose7]

Part four.

Sorry if this is sloppily written, It was really late when I wrote this and I was just all over the place at that time lol.

TW: Angst, nightmares, big fluff, the usual. LOTS of Sastiel content this time.

Sam had finally fallen asleep.

It was 3:11 a.m.

He had finally fallen asleep after staring at the clock on the wall as it ticked slowly, reminding him that he’s wasting all these seconds in life just to exist.

But as he did fall asleep, he also fell back into the sea of worries just waiting to drown him in his sorrows.

…

It was like fire coursing through his veins.

Sam finally made it to the surface, but now it was an ocean, and he was in the middle of it. There was a horrible storm overhead, and the waves tossed him and pushed him under and he choked, struggling to keep breathing.

There was no land for miles. Rain poured down hard and cold, and the clouds rumbled and flashed above him. Sam was pushed back under, the water filling his lungs but he wasn’t dying. He was in immense pain, and the water did nothing to help it.

He screamed for Dean, and then Cas. Then Jack. and then someone, anyone who could hear. He yelled until his voice went raw and hoarse, and he could yell no longer. He was enraged, he was terrified and he was exhausted. 

Sam scrabbled at the waves desperately, clawing and flailing furiously. He tried so hard, but all it did was drag him down deeper. 

He began to lose strength, and he began to freeze. He coughed and sputtered and cried out, but it was no use. He was in the middle of the ocean, stranded, freezing and dying.

He was dying.

Either it was hypothermia or his body began to shut down altogether, because he could feel his arms and legs going completely numb, and soon, he could not move his feet. Then his legs gave out.

He was staying above water only by his arms, which were losing the ability to function as well. Thunder rumbled above Sam like a freight train, and he knew it would be the last sound he heard before his final breath took over.

But not yet.

Sam was still fighting. His fingers were completely paralyzed, along with his legs and feet. 

Soon, it reached all the way to his elbows, and he could not move at all.

But not yet!

Even as he was sinking, Sam held his breath and shut his eyes tight. He would make it until he could not possibly make it any longer.

Sam tried so hard, but he simply couldn’t hold it for as long as he’d liked.

But.. Now it was time.

Sam let himself breathe in, he let himself drown in the deep, dark water.

And as he slipped away into darkness, he watched the fish scatter away as he sunk. He heard nothing but the sound of thunder rumbling overhead. He felt his heart stop beating in his frozen chest, for one final time. 

…

Sam jolted awake, his eyes streaming and burning. He breathed heavily and his throat was raw and dry, as if he’d been screaming all night.

He sat up, feeling dizzy and hot. He looked beside him, as if someone would be there, waiting for him. He sighed, closing his eyes.

It was just a dream, of course.

He ran a hand through his hair and rubbed his face with his sleeve. He sat on the bed for a second longer before getting up for some water.

And as he poured it, he looked to the motel door.

A short walk wouldn’t hurt, right?

Sam took a sip of his water (hoping it wouldn’t go to his lungs instead, which it didn’t) and poured the rest out. He grabbed his coat, slipping it on over his black tee. He considered changing out of his long gray pajama pants, but then decided against it. He’d just be out for a little bit, who would be awake at this hour anyway?

He slid into his tennis shoes and grabbed the keycard, unlocking the door and creeping out. He shut it quietly behind him and wandered down the sidewalk.

Sam took a deep breath, no water included, and jammed his hands into his pockets. He sniffed; the air was cold when he breathed in. It was cold season, but Sam was sure he would be fine. His teeth chattered just a bit, but he didn’t mind, as long as he wasn’t drenched in ocean water. Or any kind of water, for that matter.

He looked up at the stars, and how they twinkled effortlessly.

I wish it were that easy. Lucky stars.

And as he watched the stars, he thought of Castiel. He smiled softly as he began to feel warm and fuzzy inside. His face grew red just thinking about him. Or maybe it was just the cold. Am I getting sick?

His mind began to wander as he wandered in reality, traveling endlessly through the maze of thoughts coming and going. But, even now, Sam’s mind was like a traffic jam. Sometimes he thought all at once, sometimes he didn’t think at all. And when he didn’t think at all, he made bad decisions.

In one lane, his thoughts and emotions were racing past. In the other, his other thoughts and emotions stayed stuck, because there had been an accident up ahead.

The accidents were his conflicts. Like when he was seeing Lucifer, all he could think about was Lucifer and when he would get out of this mess. Like you do in a traffic jam. All you think about is what’s happening up the road and if you’ll ever get out of it.

Sam kept walking, kept thinking. The world was quiet, listening. He felt weak and achy, and his hands were clammy and trembling. But he overlooked it. I’m not sick.

And once Sam reached a dead end, he turned around and began walking back.

He wondered what he’d do if Cas ever found out. About his feelings, that is. Dean knew, Jack sort of knew, hell, even Jody knew. And Sam knew he was being obvious. He just didn’t want to say anything.

Because the night Jess died, Sam promised her and himself that he would never fall in love again, for her sake.

As he rounded the corner back to the parking lot, Sam thought back to the night she died. The scene of her on the ceiling replayed in his mind, and he felt his breath hitch. He shivered.

Sam didn’t care if he looked like shit right now. He didn’t care that he sounded pathetic, and he didn’t care that he heard the sound of angel wings flapping behind him.

Wait, angel wings?

Sam turned around, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve.

“Sam? What are you doing up this late?” Cas asked as he walked towards the Winchester. Sam stuttered a bit.

“I-I just.. Had another weird dream. Decided to take a walk, get some air.” he said, now caring a lot that he looked like shit. He fixed his hair behind his ear and blushed. “Sorry,” he laughed a little. Cas smiled softly.

“It’s alright, don’t apologize,” he said. Cas thought about telling Sam he was cute, but decided against it, because he knew it would make it awkward. But then he made a face.

Suddenly, Cas’ hands were on Sam’s cheeks, and he blushed.

“C-Cas, what are you-”

“You’re very hot, Sam.”

Sam flushed redder. “Uh, w-what?” he sputtered.

Cas blinked as he put his hands down. “Is that not the term?” he asked, but then realized what he had just said sounded like something else. Now, Castiel was blushing too. “Oh. I-I meant it as in temperature. My bad.” 

Way to not make it awkward, Castiel. Great job.

Sam was still processing, but nodded. The angel thought for a second before speaking again. “We should go inside. You need some water, and you need to cool down,” he said, and grabbed Sam’s hand. They appeared in the kitchen area, and when they landed, Sam stumbled like earlier, feeling dizzy. He gripped Cas’ shoulder to steady himself.

The angel looked to the lamp on the table and switched it on, its light illuminating the room enough to where he could see, but was dim enough not to wake Dean and Jack.

“Can’t you just heal me?” Sam asked, sitting down as Cas poured him another cup of water and set it down in front of him. “No, I can only heal physical injuries, not fevers. Now drink your water,” he said, grabbing and dampening three paper towels. 

I’m not sick, dammit!

Sam reluctantly did as told, and rolled his eyes as Castiel placed two on his wrists and one on his forehead. “That should reduce your temperature,” he said, taking a seat beside him. There was a long pause. Neither of them said a word, until Cas finally broke. 

“Sam, you’re not alright,” he said. “Even Jack knows that.”

Sam looked at him, agitated. “Yes, I am, Cas. If this is about last night, I was drunk. I had no idea what I was saying,” he lied. “Just stop worrying about me. I’m fine, really-”

“No, you are not. You’re so stressed that you’re running a fever, Sam.” 

“I’m not running a fever, you’re just overreacting,” Sam said, but immediately felt sorry. Castiel blinked. “Sorry,” the Winchester muttered.

There was silence, but then the angel said quietly, “You can’t lie to me, Sam.”

And Sam stared at the angel for a moment, a mix of emotions crossing his face. He wanted to tell Castiel everything, not just that he was stressed. He wanted to spill all of his thoughts and emotions right here, right now. But he couldn't. It would be too weird, and he didn’t want Cas to think he was a whiny sissy.

But as he thought this, Cas seemed to hear. He placed a hand softly onto Sam’s, as he did the other night, and looked him in the eye. Holy Chuck, Sam hated when he looked at him like that.

“Sammy, listen to me. You don’t have to be afraid to tell me how you feel. You need to vent at some point, it’s unhealthy for humans to keep to themselves too much.”

And at that point, Sammy broke down.

It started out as small tears, but then Castiel embraced him, and he began to sob quietly. He clung to the angel for dear life, apologizing and sniffling repeatedly. Castiel only shushed him, as if he was a child, petting his hair and whispering soft, reassuring words to him.

“I feel awful, Cas,” Sam breathed out. The angel only hugged him harder, feeling tears prick at the corners of his own eyes. “I know, I know. You’re okay, though. It will all be okay.”

“I-It’s so.. H-hard to keep this up,” he cried. Castiel nodded. “I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered.

This was not like Sam at all. This was a side of him that he never let show, only once to Dean, and that was when Jess died. He didn’t expect Sam to break so quickly around him, but Castiel sort of felt relieved knowing that. He hadn’t opened up properly in years, but he felt like he could trust Cas. 

He knew he could trust Cas. 

Once Sam had calmed down a bit, Castiel pulled away and looked into his red, puffy eyes again. They were glossy and sad, but there was a spark of relief somewhere in the hazel ocean.

Castiel wiped Sam’s tears away with his thumb, and Sam hiccuped. His hair was a mess, his face was red and his throat was scratchy. But Castiel didn’t care one bit.

“I’m s-so sorry, Cas, I-”

“It’s fine, Sam. It will dry,” he said, referring to his tear-soaked shoulder. The Winchester closed his eyes and leaned against Castiel, still sniffling and shaking. Cas held him, running his hand through Sam’s hair while he breathed.

“C-Cas?” Sam said hoarsely.

“Yes, Sam?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Castiel nodded.

“D-do you ever feel like.. Like you can’t breathe?” he asked, “L-like you’re drowning, but.. In your own fears?”

Castiel felt a pang in his grace. He was silent for a second.

“..Yes,” he started, “When I was in heaven, before I met all of you. I had so many responsibilities up there, and I felt stressed. It was very unlike an angel to be stressed about their duties, but I wasn’t created like the others.

“I was afraid of the other angels. I was afraid of how they would react when I told them that I felt that way,” he paused, taking a breath, “And so, I began to cause trouble.”

Sam looked down. “You were.. trying to get out of doing your job. Because you felt like you weren’t cut out for it,” he whispered. The angel nodded slowly.

There was silence for a while, and then Cas proceeded.

“Is that what you dreamt about on the way here? The drowning?”

Sam nodded reluctantly. “And before I went for a walk. The weird dream I said I had? It was worse. I went out so I could breathe.”

“You were drowning in water?”

“Yeah, the first dream was a lake. This one was an ocean, and the waves kept pushing me under. I-It was storming.”

“Oh,” Castiel said, but then Sam’s breath hitched again. He looked down, and there were tears forming in the Winchester’s eyes again. They were tired.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t mean to worry you-”

“Sam,” Cas said, pulling him closer, “It’s alright. Yes, I am worried, but it’s because I care about you. I love you, all of you. I’m supposed to worry.” he grabbed Sam’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Sam tried to squeeze back, but he was just too tired. He managed a small smile, though. A ‘thank you’.

Castiel felt the Winchester’s warm breath slow. He was still and quiet, but he sniffed from time to time.

The angel smiled, knowing Sam had fallen asleep on his shoulder. He fixed his hair, tucking it behind his ear, revealing his peaceful yet blotchy red face. He looked so weak at that moment, and it made Castiel’s grace shatter into pieces.

So, as carefully as he could, the angel took the paper towels off and disposed of them. His temperature had gone down a lot. He took Sam in his arms and carried him to the bed. He placed him down and fixed his hair one more time before leaning down and giving Sam a small peck on the temple. 

He turned to go, but Sam still had a grip on his trench coat sleeve, and it didn’t look like he was letting go.

Cas smiled softly. Alright, then. 

He climbed into the bed next to Sam, and he immediately felt warm and fuzzy inside. 

Sam seemed to as well, for he smiled in his sleep and his grip loosened. He sighed in content as the angel held him close again. He felt safe, he felt loved.

He felt at home.

[beau-x]

SELF PARA: “The Outlaw Josey Wales”

          LOCATION: The Back Nine //  Las Vegas Strip

          TIME STAMP: May 6, 2020 // May 6, 2016

TRIGGER WARNINGS: blood, violence, gun violence, shooting, robbery, armed robbery, serious injury, overdose, drugs, opioids, near-death, death, PTSD, financial abuse, financial manipulation, emotional manipulation, school shootings

Beau was born in 1991, but he spent his childhood obsessed with old Clint Eastwood films from the 70′s. His favorite of them all, The Outlaw Josey Wales. A history nerd from the very beginning, he and his older brother Joseph would reenact the scenes of the classic Western, taking turns as the confederate outlaws and the “evil” union soldiers. 

          “BANG BANG”

Finger guns and homemade sound effects rang through the house as and Joe and Timmy, as Beau was known by his first name ‘Timothy’ at the time, would run up and down the halls of the Heck family mansion, terrorizing their two sisters and their mother as well. 

           “BANG BANG”          

Beau was working a deal, but realistically, when wasn’t he? Being outside the Back Nine in broad daylight was not ideal for anyone, as your sober mind really focuses on the absolute soup of STI’s surrounding the place. It was not where he wanted to be on his fourth anniversary with his girlfriend, but he needed the cash. He’d put off getting her a gift, since she adamantly insisted no gifts were to be exchanged, but he was hoping to swing by Dennys and surprise her with a to-go order of blueberry pancakes, a reference to the first night they met. 

Beau was on edge. Not because he was nervous about the holiday, or about the gift. May 6, 2016, Beau and Stella finally confessed their love for each other, after many grueling months of living as roommates, secretly pining for each other and drunkenly making out every chance they got, hiding their feelings behind the excuse of ‘alcohol made me do it’. May 6, 2016 Beau came the closest to death he’d ever wished to be. 

He had been playing it off well, pretending like every time he looked in the mirror and saw the gnarly scar on his torso that it didn’t spark the slightest fear in the back of his mind. Beau had yet to enter a quick stop in the past four years, sending Stella in his place to pick up blunt wraps and slushies. She’d never asked, but surely she knew why and didn’t press him.

There were many reasons Beau and Stella moved out of the city to nearby Primm. Money, obviously, but the blood-stained grout of their bathroom floor and the walk between the ATM and the counter store that Beau dragged himself down were also contributors. 

          “BANG BANG”

What was just a boring deal with a trashy local turned energizing very quick. Without thinking Beau started to sprint. He had no plan where he was going, but that didn’t matter anyway, as he quickly hit the concrete sidewalk, struggling to breathe. He must’ve been shot in the lung, surely.. and there was blood around where he fell. It was happening again. This time he wouldn’t be as lucky, would he? Where was his neighbor with her emergency medicine skills and Stella to hold his hand?

          “BANG BANG”

He needed money. Without his parents support, he was left for broke. In fact, actually, left worse than broke. He was in debt to the boss, to the big guy that provided product for hundreds of tiny dealers like him. What little cash he had on his person and shoved under the mattress wouldn’t be enough. 

Beau hated gun violence. He hated the idea of self-righteous assholes like his father thinking they needed guns for anything. He hated the amount of kids being slaughtered in schools for the sake of someones “right” to weaponry. 

But he kept one, just in case, in a safe in his room. A gift on his 18th birthday with “TBH” engraved on the grip. He swore he’d never become like them. But he kept it just in case.

Just in case, he owed a lot of money to some very bad people. 

          “Put the money in the fucking bag!” 

The poor cashier was white as a ghost. Beau knew her, a nice lady he bought swishers off of regularly. He never planned on shooting her, but she couldn’t know that. She handed the bag of cash over and Beau, shaking, grabbed it and turned to run. It was the manager, from the back, who shot him. Grazing the space between the pleural cavity and his skin, knocking the breath from his lungs, but he didn’t stop running, didn’t stop breathing, until he hit the tile of his bathroom floor. 

The rest was all Stella. That was her story. The trauma was shared, but that part, the almost dying part, he didn’t have to witness. She did. 

          “Hey man, you okay?”

Beau turned his head from where he laid on the ground in the alley, looking up to see a familiar bartender. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask if he’d been shot, to ask him to call his girlfriend, but no words came out. Shaking, he still couldn’t breath, and he couldn’t produce a single sound. 

         “I was taking out the garbage, I guess I slammed the dumpster lid kinda loud, but you took off running and you tripped. It looks like you hit your face. Your nose looks broken.”

He wasn’t shot, it was just a loud noise, but why the hell couldn’t he breathe?

Stealing money from the town Storm's coming, and you've been running from the dark clouds No one can catch you now Josey Wales, you’re like Josey Wales

[thebeethathums]

Observers - 1

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: No real warnings for this chapter but I will warn you that later on there are some very dark themes and lots of blood and injury as well as smut.

A/N: This is a VERY long series. Like.... Could be a book at this point. I’m going to ease into posting it here bit by bit but just be aware. Also SLOW BURN. This series has a Watson sibling reader and the reader has long hair for a specific reason. Please read at your own discretion if either of those bother you.

John bounced on the balls of his feet impatiently. What was taking you so long? The scheduling board said you had arrived over 15 minutes ago and you were usually efficient and quick with moving to your next destination, so where were you?   Spying your older brother across the station, you crept up behind him with a mischievous grin and pounced on to his back. “You really need to be more observant, Johnny.” He laughed and yanked you over his shoulder so he could sweep you up into a warm hug. “(F/n), you little brat! I was starting to worry. What took you so long?” You giggled, pulling him to you tightly. “You always worry, you old worry wart. I was just delayed a bit. Ah! It’s so good to see you!” “It’s good to see you too, Squeak.”

He swept you off your feet again and you squealed, “John, put me down this second!” When he wouldn’t, you poked his side lightly, causing him to drop you as he let out an involuntary laugh and batted your hand away. You grinned at him. Growing up with him, you knew exactly where he was ticklish, but he returned you a frown. “What happened to your face?”

You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, knowing he was referring to the bruise that was surely spreading across your cheek and jaw by now. “Like I said… I was, umm… delayed.” “(F/n),” he said warningly, stepping forward to get a better look as he leveled you with a demanding older brother glare. You sighed and rushed, “I maaaayyyy… havegottenintoarowwithaguyonthetrain.” John frowned at you, how did you always manage to get into trouble like this? You were like a trouble magnet. You gave him a little grin and tried to reassure him, saying, “It’s not that bad; he only got in one good shot. Besides, he looks a million times worse than I do.” John did not find this as amusing or comforting as you did, giving you a look that said you-are-in-so-much-trouble-you-don’t-even-know. Your eyes went wide all the sudden as your hearing picked up a conversation behind you and you pulled him in front of you so you could hide behind him. A couple of coppers were pulling a badly beaten man from the train. He was yelling something about a quick bitch from hell as he nursed a broken arm and then demanded that they find the whore who broke his nose and put her in jail. The police officers shook their heads, one saying, “If the witnesses on the train are to be believed, which I know they are, she did the public a service. Did you really think you’d get away with kidnapping a child in such a public place?”   John spun to look at you, careful to keep you concealed from the man’s wild eyes, and hissed, “You did that? I can’t say I blame you but still... can’t you stay out of trouble?” You grinned as you noticed the pride that was now creeping into his face and gave a slight shrug. “What can I say? Trouble always seems to find me. It’s not like I go looking for it.” He sighed, knowing what you said wasn’t exactly true. “Come on; let’s go put some ice on that.” He took your bag and linked your arm with his, leading the way. -- 221 Baker St. It looked nice enough from your position at the bottom of the front steps; well-located, quaint, quiet, but not too quiet… It could work. You glanced down the street. It wasn’t Montmartre or Paris, but London would do. John rolled his eyes at you when he realized you were still down on the very edge of the sidewalk and not following him through the door. “Well? Are you just going to stare at it or are you going to come inside? I don’t have all day.” You snapped out of it, pouting as you bounded up the front walk to catch up, “Not even for me?” He chuckled, taking your hand and pulling you inside and up the stairs after him, all the way to apartment B. Seeing the door, you tugged at his arm. “Shouldn’t I at least see where I’ll be living before you drag me all over your apartment, Johnny?” He waved a dismissive hand at you, opening the door. “Later. I don’t want you meeting Mrs. Hudson before we take care of that bruise. She’ll think you're some sort of hoodlum – though I’m not entirely convinced you aren’t.” You let out a smooth, melodious laugh as he pulled you into the flat, shoving you down into a chair before he went to get something for your face. You took everything in with a little grin. It was just as John had described to you – the skull on the mantle, the bullet-ridden smiley face on the wall, the mess in the kitchen. You bounced up to look at the collection of books on one of the walls near the window, running your fingers lovingly over spines old and new until you came to one you knew well. You pulled it out, yelling over your shoulder, “John, you twat, I’ve been looking for this everywhere! You might have told me you took it.” There was a deep chuckle from behind you that most definitely was not John’s. You froze, thoughts racing. Roommate. Right. High-functioning sociopath. Often sleeps late. More likely than not is dressed in night clothes. Woken by the noise. Younger than John, from the timber of his laugh. Tall. Standing in the doorway that leads to the bedrooms and bathroom. You remembered the blanket on the couch and smirked. Wrong. Not asleep at all. Thinking. Got up to use the restroom. John came back in carrying a bag of ice and some Advil. “What is it that I took? Oh… Hello Sherlock. I’m sorry. Did we wake you?” Before the man could answer, you turned, saying, “Stop fretting, John. He wasn’t asleep. By the look of it, he was on the couch, probably thinking, and got up to use the loo just before we came in. Also, he’s wondering why I’m here as he’s figured I’m a relative of some sort, but more likely than not wasn’t listening when you told him I’d be moving in downstairs, when you told him I’d be arriving today, or even when you were leaving to pick me up. I’m taking this book.” You walked over and took the ice from John casually before returning to the armchair you knew was his to look over the familiar book. John floundered a little, looking over at Sherlock, unsure of how he’d react. To his surprise, there was a slight smile on the consulting detective’s face. Realizing you’d only taken the ice, he began to scold you. “(F/n), you need to take these. They’ll help bring down the swelling.” You waved a hand. “The swelling will go down on its own. You know I don’t take pills.” Sherlock decided to observe this little interaction for a while longer before saying anything and went to sit on the couch. John sighed. It would do him no good to try and get you to listen and you were right about the swelling going down on its own. He shook his head and went to make tea. Pulling your legs up to sit cross-legged, you smiled as you ran your hands over the smooth, worn leather cover of your prize. You’d bound it yourself when you were young and going through a bookbinding phase. You opened it to flip through its pages, stopping when you came to a particularly interesting drawing you’d done, or to read something that John had written. It had started out blank but was now entirely full of John’s and your own youthful adventures and thoughts, like a shared journal or sketchbook of sorts. Sherlock watched you carefully as you chuckled quietly at some pages and frowned at others before John re-entered, bearing tea. “Oh, that one… sure, take it. It belongs more to you than it does to me anyways.” You took the tea without looking up at him. “Lies. It is just as much yours as it is mine, but I shall take it all the same, as you’ve been hoarding it all this time.” He knelt in front of you, pulling the arm holding the ice away from your face and frowned. “Does your jaw hurt or click? It looks pretty bad. It must have been a good hit for a bruise to appear so quickly.” You pushed him away with your foot, still flipping through the book. “I’m fine. He got in one good swing, but it’s not anything I can’t handle. It’ll heal up in a couple of days.” John gave up, going back to the kitchen while grumbling, “The fact you even know that at all is worrisome.” You rolled your eyes and turned your attention to Sherlock. He expected you to say something – comment on his staring, introduce yourself, or something of the sort – but you didn’t. You simply stared back at him, doing some observing of your own. He was as you thought; tall, slightly younger than John, wearing nightclothes. You took in some new facts as well – the icy blue of his eyes, the dark curls that fell in his face, and his blank expression. He was watching you, trying to read you and deduce as much as he could. Arrogant. Cocky. But underneath was something else… Caring, possibly. You were wondering what he might be deducing from you when he spoke. “I’ve been informed it’s rude to stare.” You kept your gaze on him. “As have I, though I believe that, as you started it, I have every right to reciprocate.” He seemed surprised by your answer and you gave a small smirk before he continued, testing you, “It is also rude to enter the living space of another and not introduce yourself.” You didn’t even flinch, replying, “A host who does not greet or offer an introduction to a guest cannot rightfully expect to receive either in kind.” Silence enveloped the room again as you both went back to staring. It wasn’t as though Sherlock was having trouble reading you, it was simply the fact that he was curious enough for him to stay quiet. He was about to break the silence when you suddenly giggled, “I like you. You’re interesting.” He tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing, and then went to the kitchen to make sure John wasn’t messing with his current experiment. As soon as he left, you rummaged through your bag, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen, and began scribbling. It didn’t take you long to finish your task and you tore the page out, slid everything else back in your bag, and laid the paper on the coffee table. You stood, slung your messenger pack over your shoulder, and called, “I’ll be back later, Johnny!” as you darted out the door. Before John could even register what you’d said, you were gone. He sighed and ran a hand over his face, trying to remind himself that you were an adult and could take care of yourself. Sherlock’s eyes locked on the paper you had left and he went to pick it up. It was him – a drawing of him, rather. You’d captured the bullet holes and smiley face on the wall behind him and the wrinkles of the couch, but more importantly, was the way you’d perfectly rendered his face and position as he stared at you. His eyes expressing a slight curiosity within the overwhelming sense of superiority, the corner of his lip turning up ever so slightly, the way his hands were clasped together confidently - you’d put it all down on paper. Underneath it, in loopy handwriting, it said, “A pleasure meeting you, Sherlock Holmes,” and in the corner, in a flurry of elegant swirls, “(F/n) Watson.

[katsens-writing]

See You Again, Part 4

Summary: The past catches up with Peter and Tony.

Content: Implied bad language, injury, past trauma/loss, lots of feels. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Word Count: About 4k (Does not include recap.)

A/N: This story was inspired by a post I saw and a following conversation that I had. Ok, this part is sad and emotional but I promise it ends well! Seriously though, loads of feels in here ok. You may need tissues. No joke. When I was first writing this part my dad saw me and said I looked like I was writing someone’s obituary. So yeah. My asks and messages are open if you want to yell at me. Just let it all out darlings. Thanks to @itsallavengers and @wisemanwhodoesntknow for the inspiration!

---

     “It’s ok sissy, I’m here, I’m here.” Tony smiled at the little girl, comforting her sister. She reminded him so much of Morgan. The smile vanished from Tony’s face as he turned to the chief. “How did this thing get started?” he asked with a frown.

     “We aren’t sure yet. The guys did say something felt off though.” The chief scratched his chin thoughtfully.

     “Thanks,” Tony’s brow furrowed. “FRIDAY, check for reports—” Tony’s words were cut off as the intense blaze flared up, sending glass raining down upon the gathered crowd.

---

     Peter was thrown to the ground by a blast of heat as the fire flared up, shattering the window he was about to climb in. He cried out as he dove for cover, the glass shards shredding his suit. Pain shot through him as his injured shoulder hit the ground.

     “Ow, sonofa--” Peter sat up once the blast died down, his mask retracting. Thankfully it kept most of the glass from reaching through. He touched his arm tenderly and winced in pain and hissed before biting his lip. “It’s a good thing Cap’s not here,” he muttered tersely. He slowly got to his feet after giving himself a once over. Every muscle in his body ached but other than his shoulder, he didn’t have anything more serious than a few cuts and bruises.

     “Ok, Karen, how’s my shoulder looking?” Peter asked sheepishly.

     “Your shoulder is dislocated and fractured in at least two places,” Karen reported.

     “Great. Maybe Fury will let me go home early--”

     “Hey!” A shout from the sidewalk cut Peter off. He jumped at the voice, quickly engaging his mask before running down the narrow alley. He tried activating his hoverboard. It materialized briefly but the power indicator just flashed twice before it retracted back into the suit. He quickly looked back over his shoulder and saw he was being pursued.

     Peter swore under his breath as he drew near the end of the alley. He leapt up on top of the dumpster and sprung off the lid to grab onto the railing of a balcony above it, letting out a gasp of pain as he caught on to it. He scrambled up it and jumped from the balcony to a windowsill before zig-zagging up the corner where the two buildings met and to the roof. He glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened when he saw his pursuer was still right behind him.

     He swore again as he ran, leaping from building to building, dodging any obstacle in his way. He began to slow when he was several blocks away from the fire and paused to retract his mask and catch his breath. Almost immediately a tingling chill ran through him and he straightened and turned quickly. His pursuer was right behind him. Without hesitating he flipped over the edge of the building and clung to the side of it before swiftly climbing down it. He turned to the right and sprinted off- right into a dead end.

     “Don’t move,” a low voice growled. “Hands up and turn around, slowly.

     Peter’s eyes grew and his heart skipped a beat at the voice as he recognized it. Mr. Stark.

     His heart raced and his breathing quickened. He had wanted to see Mr. Stark again so desperately, he wouldn’t have even minded it being like this but... he couldn’t be seen, even by him. He’d already been seen once and that was bad enough.

    “Turn around!” Tony called louder.

     I can’t climb or swing out, not with my arm, Peter thought. And I won’t fight him, I just won’t. I can’t.

     Peter knew what he had to do. He took a deep, shaky breath and slowly raised his hands.

     “Now turn. Slowly.” Tony demanded.

     Peter slowly turned around, his hands still raised as he came face to face with the man he had been mourning for the past year.

- -

     Tony quickly yanked the sisters beside him to the ground, shielding them from the glass raining down upon them.

     “Are you alright?” he asked as he straightened.

     Shaken, the older sister nodded, holding her little sister tightly to her chest.

     Tony waved a paramedic over as he helped the woman to her feet. “Ok, that’s good. This lady here is going to look you guys over just to make sure, ok?” The older sister nodded gratefully as the paramedic smiled warmly and gently guided her and her sister to an ambulance.

     Tony scanned around for anyone else who needed help when a movement in the alley caught his eye. “Hey!” He shouted.

     A shadowy figure jumped and tore off further down the alley. Tony gritted his teeth and blasted off after them. By the time he got to the end of the alley, the figure was already up on the roof.

     “What the hell?” he asked, astonished. He engaged his thrusters and flew up to the roof just in time to see the figure leap over to the next building. He followed them, keeping right on their heels. The chase went on, building after building, street after street. The longer it went, the more Tony became bewildered as he watched the figure swiftly dodge loose bricks, chimneys, clotheslines, debris and anything else that came his way.

     “FRIDAY, are you seeing this?” he asked incredulously as the figure jumped across another, wider alley and landing on a building.

     “I’m seeing it, boss,” she replied as he analyzed the figure’s patterns. “You know, it kind of looks--”

     “Holy shit!” Tony swore, his heart leaping as the figure flipped backward off the seven-story building. He flew over the building and landed on the edge of the roof. He watched the figure turn and run to the right toward a dead end. Gotcha.

     “Don’t move,” Tony called out as he landed. He raised his blasters and aimed them at the figure. “Hands up and turn around slowly.” He could see the figure a bit better now from a light mounted on the side of the building. The figure was slim and wore an almost completely black suit with minor, red accents. Curiously enough, the figure seemed to not have a mask.

     The figure visibly stiffened but didn’t move an inch. Tony growled. He was not in the mood and he really didn’t have the patience for this, especially not tonight. He was exhausted, emotionally, mentally, and physically and was more than done with this whole night.

     “Turn around!” He called again, almost shouting. Slowly the figure raised their hands, holding them up by their head.

     “Now turn. Slowly,” Tony demanded, keeping his blasters level with the figure’s chest.

     The figure complied, turning around painfully slow. After what felt like an eternity, the figure was finally facing Tony. When his eyes fell on the face before him, Tony’s heart stalled completely. It can’t be. It- it’s not...

     “Boss?” FRIDAY gasped. “Is that--”

     “Peter?” Tony asked, wide-eyed.

     “M-Mr. Stark,” Peter stammered softly. He took a few small, tentative steps toward Tony, into the light in the alley. He swallowed hard against a lump forming in his throat. He opened his mouth to continue but no sound came out.

     Tony mumbled something incoherently, his voice cracking. His voice was so soft Peter didn’t even hear it.

     “What?” Peter frowned.

     “It- it’s not possible. It can’t be,” Tony lowered his eyes in panic.

     Peter’s eyes widened, starting to get scared. “Mr. Stark?”

     Tony’s eyes jerked up at Peter’s voice because it was Peter’s voice. He’d know it anywhere. It made absolutely no sense, but here he was!

     Tony’s gaze flickered to his blasters and then back to Peter. His eyes widened in horror as he realized what he was doing. He’d cornered a kid- not just any kid, Peter- in a dark alley... and he almost shot him. He almost shot his kid with his blasters. It was just too much for him. Tony collapsed to his knees, placing a hand over his rapidly beating heart, his breaths coming too quickly and far too short.

     “Mr. Stark! Mr. Stark!” Peter shouted. He was at Tony’s side in an instant, the life nearly scared out of him. No, no, no, not again, please! I can’t lose him again!

     “Mr. Stark? Can you hear me? Please, say something!” Peter cried. He caught Tony in his arms and slowly eased him to the ground, laying him on his back. He cupped Tony’s face and turned his head to look at him.

     Tony’s eyes fell on Peter’s face. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart in his ears but he could see every inch, every line, every crease of panic and utter fear on Peter’s face. Peter’s face. It was Peter and he was scared. He didn’t know why Peter was scared or what scared him, but he knew it was Peter and he had to do something.

    Tony’s eyes fluttered. “Peter?” he struggled to sit up.

     “Yes! Yes, Mr. Stark, it’s me. It’s Peter,” Peter replied pleadingly with tears in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s torso, lifting his head with his hand, and ducked under one of his arms, placing it around his shoulders. “Please be ok. I- I need you to be ok,” Peter begged desperately. He realized how selfish it sounded but he was too terrified at the thought of losing Tony again that he couldn’t care.

     Tony’s eyes began to water. “Pete.” He wrapped his arms around Peter tightly. Peter’s breath caught in his chest. He slowly wrapped his other arm around Tony before burying his face in the man’s shoulder. All the tears and heartache and pain he’d been holding onto were finally unleashed, flowing freely, escaping his body in every shaking sob. The two knelt there in the dim alley, each holding the other and neither one wanting to let go.

     “I can’t believe it’s you,” Tony whispered hoarsely. “It’s been so long.”

     Tears spilled over Peter’s cheeks and his heart broke even more when he thought it wasn’t possible. He pulled away a little and sniffed. “Mr- Mr. Stark, I- I’m so sorry but...”

     Tony pulled back and looked at Peter with so much love in his eyes that Peter just couldn’t bring himself to finish his sentence. Thankfully he didn’t need to.

     “You’re not Peter,” Tony finished, wiping his eyes.

     Peter’s eyes widened in surprise. “No, I’m not,” Peter replied hesitantly before swallowing. “I mean, I- I am but... I’m not- I’m not your Peter.”

     “I know,” Tony smiled softly at Peter.

     “You do?” Peter asked surprised.

     Tony nodded sadly. Peter felt a pang in his chest at the look on Tony’s face. He looked so broken, so tired and worn. Tony took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know you’re not my Peter because my Peter died 5 years ago.”

     Peter’s eyes widened. “What?” he looked at Tony in complete shock. “I- I’m dead?”

     Tony lowered his eyes and nodded. He’d been through this before. It was the same nightmare that haunted his dreams every second of every night for the past five years. Now it stood, living, breathing right before him. He took a deep, shaky breath and let it out slowly. He slowly lifted his eyes to meet Peter’s eyes, filled with confusion and fear. He swallowed hard and started to explain to Peter why it was his fault that he was dead.

     “There was a fire. I heard about it on FRIDAY’s scanner. He said he was going to help. I told him to wait, that we would go in together, but he said there was no time.”

     “Kid, the blaze is too hot. They’re calling all the firefighters out, you can’t go in. You don’t even have your suit!” Tony spoke frantically to Peter, begging him to listen to reason. “I’ll be there in two minutes, ok? I’ve got your suit, we’ll go in together!”

     Tony heard a crack in the background and Peter jumped as part of the warehouse behind him gave way. Tony could see the desperation, panic, and fear in Peter’s eyes as he watched, but it vanished when Peter looked back at his phone to Tony. The blood in Tony’s veins turned to ice as Peter set his jaw, the fear and desperation in his eyes replaced with stoic determination.

     “There’s no time, Mr. Stark. I’ll see you when you get here,” Peter replied as he pulled the hood of his MIT sweater up over his head, ending the call before Tony could answer.

     “Peter- Peter!” Tony swore. He ordered FRIDAY to max out the thrusters and went straight to the warehouse. When he got there is heart stopped. The whole thing was in flames, hardly any of it was still standing. As he landed the rest of the building collapsed. “PETER!”

     Tony lowered his gaze. “I found him trapped under a wall. I held him, talked to him and comforted him but...” Tony huffed bitterly in self-disgust. “He just kept asking if I was ok and if everyone made it out. He died because of me and his last words were ‘I’m sorry.’” Tony’s voice cracked as a sob escaped him.

     Peter watched the broken man in front of him and he shut his eyes tight. He never thought about it before, never wondered how Tony had reacted when he was turned to dust in the snap. He never wanted to because in his heart he knew and he never wanted to see or to even think of Mr. Stark like that. Now he was seeing it with his own eyes, a reality he was in that he never wanted. “No,” he whispered fiercely, his voice breaking with tears in his eyes.

     “What?” Tony whispered, lifting his head slowly.

     “No,” Peter opened his eyes and repeated louder. “Don't think that. Don’t you EVER think that.” Peter spoke, his eyes blazing. “It was not your fault. You can’t blame yourself, don’t you dare ever blame yourself.”

     Tony looked at Peter incredulously, like he had just told him Thanos was a saint. He shook his head. “Don’t blame myself? Don’t you get it, kid? You- he died because I wasn’t there. You should blame me!”

     “No!” Peter repeated adamantly. “He died because he was a hero. There were people in danger and they needed help. He knew it was dangerous, he knew what could happen but he did it anyway. That’s what heroes do. Becoming a hero, that was his choice. He-” Peter stopped as clarity came to him. “He- he did what he had to.” Peter’s voice quieted, tears filling his eyes again.

     Tony watched the shift on Peter’s face and his lips parted in an epiphany. He put his arms around Peter in an instant just before the dam burst. “Hey, hey, easy there, easy,” he soothed as he pulled Peter into a hug. “It’s ok Pete, it’s ok.” He swallowed a lump in his own throat. “Everything’s going to be ok.”

     Peter buried his face in Tony’s shoulder again, his own shoulders shaking. “I- I’m sorry,” he sobbed. “I just- I-”

     “Shh, I know, Pete. I know,” Tony replied, his heart breaking for the kid. He saw the anguish in Peter’s eyes. He knew what Peter wasn’t saying, what for whatever reason he couldn’t say. “I miss you too,” Tony whispered softly, his eyes still moist.

     Immediately Peter jerked back. “What? No, I- I didn’t say--”      “You didn’t have to Peter,” Tony chuckled in spite of himself. For a second, he looked like the Tony that Peter remembered.

     “Yeah, I- I’m not the most subtle,” Peter sniffed miserably as he rubbed the back of his neck.

     “Some things never change,” Tony laughed. Peter couldn’t help but chuckle himself. “So,” Tony continued wiping away the lingering tear on his cheek. “What are you doing here, kid?”

     “I’m not really sure I can say but... the multiverse is in danger and I- I’m helping to protect it,” Peter replied.

     “Hm. Not just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man any more, huh?” Tony smirked. “You’re in the big leagues now.”

     “Yeah, but... I don’t want to be. Fury couldn’t reach anyone else and Quentin said it was urgent. There--”

     “There was no time?” Tony arched an eyebrow at Peter.

     “Yeah,” Peter lowered his head, his cheeks a little flushed.

     Tony huffed in amusement. “Well, I’m glad to hear Nick is still the same. So, who’s Quentin? Fury’s second in command?”

     “No, he’s a scientist from a different universe than I am,” Peter answered. “He made me a hoverboard in the old lab but the power’s drained.”

     “So that’s what you were trying to do earlier,” Tony smirked smugly. “I thought the nanotech looked familiar.”

     “Yeah,” Peter bit his lip. “None of us can really figure nanotech out. Banner tried once but he’s always busy. Shuri can, but she’s busy too most of the time and she keeps wanting to change it...”

     “Well maybe I can show you some time,” Tony suggested. He immediately regretted his words when he saw the broken look on Peter’s face. It hit him like a stab in the heart. “Oh God, I’m so sorry Peter, I didn’t mean like--” he quickly hugged Peter.

     “I know,” Peter sniffed. “I- I just miss you. So much.”

     “I know, Peter. I know.” Tony rubbed Peter’s back comfortingly. He held Peter tightly and waited until Peter was ready to pull away. When he did, Tony looked at him with his brow furrowed.

     “So how- how did--” he started before shaking his head, thinking better of it. “Never mind. You probably can’t tell me anyway.”

     Peter bit his lip in hesitation. He knew he probably shouldn’t tell Tony, but something in his gut told him he should. He couldn’t explain it, but he’d learn to trust those feelings. Throwing caution to the wind, Peter sighed. “Thanos.”

     “I see,” Tony replied quietly, averting his eyes before furrowing his brows. “What... what about Thor?”

     “Thor is ok,” Peter replied. “He’s missing an eye but that happened before Thanos came.”

     Tony’s brow furrowed. “An eye? Not an arm?” Peter shook his head and Tony frowned. “He never used the stones?”

     “I don’t know. I- I wasn’t there,” Peter lowered his eyes.

     “Oh,” Tony whispered softly, his lips forming a straight line. He closed his eyes. When Thanos snapped his fingers, Peter was the only thing that kept him sane after losing Pepper and Morgan. He’d pushed everyone away, distancing himself from everybody who tried to get through to him, but Peter wasn’t having it. Peter showed up on his doorstep three days after the snap and asked what he could do to help. Tony had just stared at him blankly as the kid walked past him into the tower like he owned the place. He literally pulled Tony out of his depression. He walked into the office one night and found him sitting behind his desk, staring at a glass of whiskey he had just poured. He grabbed Tony by the shoulders and hauled him out of the office and down to the lab. He’d saved him from going down a path that he’d never be able to leave again. Eventually, Peter convinced him to gather the remaining Avengers. He didn’t know what he would've done, what would’ve happened to him, if it hadn’t been for Peter.

     “It’s been a crazy couple of years,” Peter smiled weakly.

     “That’s an understatement,” Tony chuckled dryly. “Morgan’s away at college, Pepper just closed a deal opening a new international division in London, Harley took over R&D a few years ago and he wants to expand...” his voice trailed off.

     Peter noticed Tony’s hesitation when he mentioned Harley taking over R&D. He thought he knew why but he didn’t know what to say. “Wait... Morgan’s in college?! How old is she?!” He gasped.

     “Yeah, she is. She’ll be thirteen next month and let me tell you, she’s already got all of that teenage attitude,” Tony chuckled. “Wait... how old is she in your universe?”

     “Four, almost five,” Peter smiled. “She’s got the whole team wrapped around her finger, not to mention Happy. He hasn’t shown up once without cheeseburgers since...” Peter’ voice trailed off.

     Tony shook his head with a light chuckle, gently pulling Peter away from the darkness. “I would expect nothing less from my little girl. Careful or she’ll go power crazy. Don’t want her going mob boss on you guys.” Peter chuckled at that. Tony’s smile faded and his eyes grew wistful, remembering his Morgan at that age. “I always wanted a kid.” He looked at Peter and cleared his throat, coming back to the shocking but rather pleasant situation he’d found himself in. “So, how long are you going to be visiting? Where are you staying? You know, we have plenty of room at the tower...”

     Peter smiled sadly. “I’m actually heading back in the morning...” Peter glanced at his watch and his heart sank. “Um, in a few minutes.... The portal to take me how will open and... I still have a few more universes to check out, but I think I’m going to tell Fury and Quentin I need to take a break for awhile. I miss my own bed.”

     “You miss your own New York,” Tony smiled understandingly.

     Peter smiled sadly again. “Yeah, sort of.”

     Tony nodded. “Good. Don’t let Fury push you around, you’ve got to stand your ground with him sometimes.”

     “I tried. I sent him to voicemail when he called,” Peter bit his lip.

     Tony chortled with a proud glint in his eye. That’s my kid. He could imagine how well that worked out. His smile grew smaller and the gleam in his eye reduced to a sad glint as he looked at Peter. The kid looked so tired and worn with the eyes of a man a decade older than him.

     “There’s nothing wrong with just being the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, Peter. You still can be. Your neighborhood’s just... a little bigger, that’s all. Just trust your instincts and think with your heart as much as your head.” Peter looked up at Tony, hanging onto his every word and Tony felt a pang in his heart. Immediately Peter’s face changed. Even though he was a bit older now, he looked so much like his Peter had when he first met him. It was almost like having his son back again.

     “The choice is yours, Peter, but don’t forget why you started being Spider-Man,” Tony smiled weakly with tears in his eyes.

     Peter looked up at Tony knowingly with a small, sad smile. “For the same reason your Peter went into that fire... and the same reason you used to make things.” Tony’s lips parted slightly in surprise.

     “He wouldn’t have wanted you to stop, Mr. Stark. I think you know that.” Peter continued. “He would never blame you and he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

     That’s my kid, Tony thought again. Tony smirked and a little huff escaped. “I should’ve known you’d pick up on that.” Peter shrugged, smiling softly. A beeing on his wrist caught his attention and his brow furrowed.

     “It’s time, isn’t it?” Tony asked quietly.

     Peter looked up at him miserably. “Yeah, it is.”

     Tony placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “Pete, I just want you to know that I--” his voice cracked. “I’m so proud of you. More than you could ever know.” As he finished his sentence a portal opened up beside them.

     Peter turned back to Tony, his voice desperate and pleading. “Please, please, Mr. Stark, promise me you’ll start inventing again.”

     Tony smiled through his teary eyes. “I promise, Peter. Somebody’s got to keep Harley in line.

     Peter threw his arms around Tony. “And I promise I’ll never stop being Spider-Man.”

     Tony’s eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest, hesitating. He’d never told Peter how he felt when he was alive and it was one of the regrets he had. Now he had a second chance and he wasn’t going to pass it up.

     Tony smiled tenderly. He slowly raised his arms around Peter and hugged him tight. He rested his chin on the top of Peter’s head. “That’s my son,” he whispered fondly, his eyes brimming with tears. “I love you, Peter.”

     Tears spilled down Peter’s cheeks as he gave Tony one last hug, burying his face in the man’s chest, but this time they weren’t sorrowful. “I love you too, dad.”

--- A/N: Hi! I hope you liked the story! If you’re wondering what happens next or have some questions, don’t worry! I wrote an epilogue for this that ended up being too long so I made it a connected one-shot/ mini-sequel of sorts. It will be posted next week. If you would like to be tagged in it, let me know!

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Taglist: (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, let me know, its no trouble!) @xmarveled @parkerspicedlatte @myworstdays @bla-369 ---

[yeontanismypresident]

Please ... | jhs

A/N: This is longer than anything I’ve ever written and oh my gosh I actually really like it? I recommend listening to Hug Me sung by V and Jhope. It really got me in the mood to write this. Please excuse any mistakes and enjoy (: 

Word Count: 4.5K+

Genre: Angst & Fluff

Warnings: Car accidents, near death experience, slight suicidal thoughts, 

Prompts: “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” + “You can’t die. Please don’t die.” 

Six boys walked into the practice laughing and joking around, as was usual for the members of BTS. When they saw Hoseok sitting in the middle of the room, head in his hands and shoulders slumped, looking defeated and tense they became quiet. Everyone looked at each other trying to figure out who would ask him what was wrong. It was no secret that when Hoseok was angry he needed to be left alone, but they had an important concert tomorrow and they needed to practice. 

Namjoon turned out to be the bravest among them all, “Hobi Hyung? Are you okay?”  He tentatively walked up to him and crouched in front of him.

“We had an argument,” Hoseok’s voice was tense and held some anger. Yoongi, being the one Hoseok usually went to during these situations, walked over and sat down next to him. The rest of the boys followed suit and sat around him, but still giving him the space if he needed it.

Hoseok looked up and stared past Namjoon, staring at himself through the mirror, “She came in here to see me and to talk about how I never help around the apartment. I guess I said something wrong because next thing I knew we were yelling at each other,” he looked at Yoongi with tired eyes and continued, “I was already mad and I took it out on her.”

Yoongi sighed, “Do you know where she is? You should apologize to her.” He really didn’t know how to help his friend, but he knew they needed to know where you were before coming up with an elaborate plan.

“I dunno she stormed off in anger and she’s not answering my calls or messages.” Hoseok looked at his phone in his hands with an uneasy expression on his face. He looked around at everyone surrounding him, “But I have a bad feeling, like something’s gonna happen.” Taehyung opened his mouth, as if he was going to speak, but Hoseok’s ringing phone cut him off.

They all looked at it to see your contact and picture pop up. Hoseok was quick to answer, putting it on speaker, and started talking, “Y/n baby! I’m so sorry please come back so I can apologize to you in person. I promi-” he was cut off by someone clearing their throat on the other end.

“Is this Jung Hoseok?” a man’s voice could be heard and it confused Hoseok as well as making the bad feeling come back stronger.

He looked at the guys before he remembered he didn’t answer, “Uh yes, who is this? Where’s Y/n?”

“This is Doctor Lee at Severance Hospital. Y/n has been in a car accident and you were listed as her emergency contact,” the words from the man made Hoseok freeze. It seemed as though the words went right through him.

His friends stared at him in shock and concern as he didn’t move. He couldn’t even breathe. The only thing he could do was stare at the mirror as tears started flowing down his face. He could vaguely hear the others yelling his name and he could feel them slightly shaking him. It wasn’t until he heard the doctor tell him to get there fast, that the accident was severe and they couldn’t tell if you were going to make it, that he finally made a sound. Hoseok started sobbing with his body shaking at the force of his crying. 

Yoongi pulled him into a tight embrace trying to calm him down, “Hobi, come on. You needa calm down, let’s get to the hospital. Let’s go see Y/n.” Jungkook helped Yoongi pull Hoseok up and led him out to the car that Namjoon had called for.

 “It’s gonna be okay Hyung,” Taehyung softly said as the driver started towards the hospital. 

Hoseok just stared at him, his eyes void of any emotions, “But what if it’s not? What if she’s dead by the time we get there?” Everyone’s breath hitched as he had just voiced what they all feared. Not only would Hoseok lose the one person he loved with all his heart, but the boys would all lose someone who was their best friend and like a sister.

 Jin looked around at everyone as tears fell down their faces, “She’ll be okay. She’s a strong girl.” He put his hand on Hoseok’s knee for some form of comfort.

--0--0--0--0--

Before the car could come to a complete and safe stop, Hoseok had the door flinging open and running into the hospital. The rest of the group quickly ran after him and saw him frantically looking for someone to take him to you. They walked up and Jin asked a nurse where they could find you. The nurse explained to them that you were in surgery, but they could wait in your assigned room. Heading towards the room, Hoseok couldn’t help but let your fight flash in his mind. Why didn’t he just let you win? Why did he have to let his anger get the best of him? The nurse that led them walked away as soon as they were in the room. They waited around for an hour: Jungkook, Taehyung, and Jimin playing a game on their phones. Jin and Namjoon quietly discussing on the phone with Bang PD about them missing their practice and not knowing when they were going to be back. Hoseok was just staring blankly at the wall across from him. And last was Yoongi, who was keeping a close eye on Hoseok. By the time an hour and half has passed, the members of BTS stood up quickly and watched as a few doctors and nurses wheeled you in on a bed.

 “Which one of you is Jung Hoseok?” a doctor asked the pale faced boys. Hoseok raised his shaking hand. The doctor put a hand out for him to shake, “My name is Doctor Lee, I’m the one who talked to you on the phone. Would you like to know her condition?” Hoseok could only stare at you with tears slowly filling his eyes once again. You looked so pale and dead. 

Yoongi walked up and shook the doctor’s hand for him, “Yes, we would like to know everything if that is allowed.”

“Right,” Doctor Lee cleared his throat and looked at your chart, “L/n Y/n, hit by a drunk driver at a speed of 95mph. She was immediately rushed into surgery. She had lost a lot of blood and has multiple injuries, some more severe than others.”

 Doctor Lee looked up to make sure they were following along. Everyone looked sad and worried, but Hoseok was the worst of them all. He was trying to keep in his sobs so he didn’t miss anything important being said. Yet, it was easier said than done as cries could be heard from him loud and clear. 

Doctor Lee gave him a sad glance and continued, “Injuries include a broken arm, two broken ribs, multiple gashes on her arms and legs,” he gave them all a sympathetic look as he finished, “possible memory loss and is in a coma with no sign of waking u-” 

Doctor Lee was cut off as Hoseok finally let his sobs out and ran out of the room as fast as he could.

 “Hoseok Hyung!” Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook all ran after him to make sure he didn’t do anything he would regret. 

--0--0--0--0--

Hoseok kept running, trying to stop his cries but it was of no use. The tears kept rolling down his cheeks and his breathing kept picking up. His heart beat faster and faster as all the possible outcomes of your condition came to the front of his mind: Would you wake up? Are you mad at him? Are you in any pain? Would you remember him if you woke up? Oh god, what if you died?

As he thought that he looked out at the busy street, taking a hesitant step forwards to the dangerous traffic. He couldn’t live without you. You always helped him through everything. He would miss you way too much. And if him dying meant seeing you again then he would gladly die. He was slow, as if in some sort of trance as he walked off the curb. He was almo-

“Hyung!!” Jimin cried out as he grabbed Hoseok’s arm and tugged him back away from the rushing cars. Hoseok started screaming and trying to get out of his arms. Escaping from Jimin’s arms, he tried to run back to the speeding cars. This time it was Jungkook who took a hold of their brother. Hoseok broke down in the middle of the sidewalk and Jungkook slowly lowered them into a sitting position. The people walking looked on at the strange scene, but they didn’t pay any attention to it. All they cared about was making sure their friend was okay.

Jimin sat behind Hoseok and wrapped his arms tightly around him, “Why would you try and do that Hoseok?” He couldn’t be bothered to use honorifics. Not when his brother just tried to kill himself.

Hoseok just continued to cry, not wanting to say the truth. The younger men wouldn’t like his reasoning. They all sat there for a few minutes all of them crying. Taehyung was the one to break the silence surrounding them, “Are you okay Hyung?”

“It was over how I never do anything. How I don’t take care of our apartment like I should. S-she said it felt like I didn’t care enough. I was stupid. If I had just let her win i-if I had just kept her in the building for another ten minutes she wouldn’t be laying in that bed with the possibility of not waking up,” Hoseok’s voice was shaking and so quiet they had to lean in close to hear him.

Taehyung tried to reassure him, “Hoseok Hyung it wasn’t your fault you couldn’t ha-”

He was cut off by Hoseok’s screaming, his voice filled with immense pain, “Yes it is! It’s my fault she was angry! It’s my fault she got in that accident! It’s my fault she’s almost dead!” He trailed off at the end, not wanting to say it too loud. He chuckled humorlessly, “Wanna know what the worst thing is? If she dies...if she dies the last words I had spoken to her..” He couldn’t finish as he started crying harder and choking, trying to breathe.

“What was it Hyung?” Jimin was timid as he asked.

Hoseok looked him straight in the eyes, no emotions visible in his eyes as he said, “...That I wish I had never met her..that I wouldn’t care if she had died as long as she left me alone.” He took a deep breath in, “I told her I wouldn’t care if she died, and now she might actually die. I’ll have to live with the guilt. I killed her. I was the one who told her I didn’t care. What kind of boyfriend says that!?” He became angrier by the second. How could he have been so stupid as to let his anger make him say those things to you? 

“Come on Hyung, let’s go back to the hospital. We don’t know for sure that she won’t wake up,” Jungkook pulled him up and kept a strong grip on him to make sure he doesn’t run out to the street again.

Jimin walked behind them with Taehyung and quietly said, “I personally think she’s going to make it. She would never leave you Hyung. She loves you too much.” This caused a small smile to grace Hoseok’s face and it made them all feel a little bit better. You were going to push through this and wake up. You’d wake up and Hoseok would apologize and everything would go back to the way it was before. Right?

--0--0--0--0--

Arriving back at your room they saw the doctor had left and only the members remained. They were sat around your bed, Yoongi holding your left hand and Namjoon holding your right. As soon as Namjoon saw them come back he let go of your hand so Hoseok could take his place. Hoseok slowly made his way to you, looking your figure over taking in all of your features. You had black, blue, and purple bruises littering your face and arms, along with small and some large cuts. Just the thought of what the bottom half of you looked like made him feel sick. He delicately held your hand, afraid you would break if he held on any tighter. Everyone watched on as he leaned over and put his head by your joined hands.

“Come on guys, let’s give him some alone time with her,” Jin’s voice was quiet as he led them out of the room so Hoseok could talk to you.

As they sat in the chairs outside of your room Jimin spoke up, “Hyungs, we have to tell you what happened.” He spoke softly, almost afraid of Hoseok hearing and feeling even more guilty than he already does.

“He tried to run out into traffic. He said he didn’t want to live without her. That it was all his fault she was in here,” Jungkook took over as Jimin couldn’t get any words out through his sniffling and soft hiccups. The three eldest froze as the words escaped through Jungkook’s lips. Had they heard right? Hoseok was willing to leave everything behind?

Namjoon broke the small silence that had started to form, “What?” The words were whispered as he couldn’t wrap his mind around it. Why would he do that?

“We obviously stopped him, but if she does die, which she won’t, we need to keep a close eye on him,” Taehyung had corrected himself when he received heated glares from his friends.

Yoongi nodded his, “Someone needs to be with him at all times. He can’t get out of anyone’s sight.” They all agreed without any hesitance. They would do anything for Hoseok.

Inside your hospital room, Hoseok looked at you with tears obscuring his vision. His voice was cracking with every other word he spoke, “Y/n, baby, if you can hear me I’m so sorry. Please wake up. I need to see that beautiful smile. I need you to know that I love you.” He sniffled as he waited for a reaction from you. His shoulders fell and he leaned his head on your bed as your body laid limp, your chest moving up and down slowly as you breathed.

The boys walked in and sat in the chairs making Hoseok look up at them with a broken stare. Yoongi walked over to him and put his hand on his shoulder, “We have to leave Hobi. We have to practice for the concert tomorrow.”

Hoseok looked shocked and stuttered, “W-what? Can’t we stay a little longer? Can’t I stay a little longer? I can’t leave her! I need to stay by her side until she wakes up!” He couldn’t leave you. Not now. He had caused you to be here motionless and looking dead. He was not leaving your side. Even if they tried to force him to move, he’d stay rooted to the seat by your side.

“I’m sorry Hyung, but we have to. You can come back after tomorrow. We can’t let the fans down and we can’t perform without you,” Namjoon’s words held sympathy and understanding.

Hoseok looked at them with frantic eyes, “They’d understand! Please let me stay I-I can’t leave.” He begged and begged them, but rules were the rules. The band always came first. It wasn’t fair. How could they expect him to leave you like this? With no one to be by your side? What if you woke up and no one was here? What if you thought he didn’t care?

“I’m sorry Hobi, but we need to leave,” Jin spoke softly not wanting to make the situation worse. Hoseok looked at your face with defeat written clear across his face as he let go of your hand and stood up.

He kissed your lips lightly, “I love you so much princess.”

He followed the boys out with a blank face.

--00--00--00--00--

“Hi baby. It’s been three weeks and you’re still in a coma. The doctors say you’re slowly getting better. They think you’ll wake up soon. I-I hope you do. I miss you so much. Please wake up for me baby. I miss seeing your smile and hearing your laugh. I miss seeing your shining eyes when you talk,” he inhaled and continued with a shaking voice, “The boys miss you too and so do the fans. They say they miss seeing you post pictures of me when I’m doing something embarrassing. They can’t wait for you to wake up to post more.” Tears poured down his cheeks, leaving a glistening trail that he didn’t even bother to wipe off.

Sniffling he kissed your lips and then your forehead, looking at you in anguish and with love, “I have to go now. We have a concert tonight, but I’ll come back tomorrow I promise. I love you princess.”

--00--00--00--00--

“Today marks a month that you’ve been in a come baby. The boys are here with me for this visit. Do you guys want to say anything?” Hoseok ignored the stares of pity they sent him as he looked up from your face. He was past the point of caring what everyone thought of him talking to your unresponsive body. The doctors had told him that it might help you wake up and he’d be an idiot to not take their advice. He’d do anything for you to wake up. Hell, he’d sell his soul to the Devil if it meant he got to see you wake up and smile at him.

Yoongi saw Hoseok’s face fall as no one spoke and he couldn’t have that. He took your left hand that was unoccupied, “Hey Y/n, it’s Yoongi. We all miss you a lot. You need to wake up real soon okay? I’ll even let you come in my studio and you know I hate people coming in there.” He tried to laugh, but it got caught in his throat. He was really close to you and it hurt to see you like this. He abruptly got up and walked over to lean on the wall. He hid his tears well, but everyone could hear his quiet sniffling.  

“Hey Y/n-ah, I hope you’re not in too much pain. When you wake up we can play that game you’ve been wanting to play. It just came out and I bought it for you. I haven’t played it or even opened it. I want you to be there when I do, ” Jungkook took Yoongi’s place and lightly kissed your hand as he got up so someone else could speak.

Taehyung was next, “Hey loser I miss having you as my model for my photography. I found a really cool place we can take pictures at when you get better. I think you’ll like it. It has so many flowers and I know you love flowers.” He gave your cheek a light kiss, “Get better soon Y/n.”

By now everyone had tears falling wanting nothing more than for you to wake up. No one told or spoke of it when Hoseok was near, but they were slowly losing hope that you would awaken. The doctor said it was normal for most coma patients to wake up after four weeks. They were afraid you wouldn’t be like the others. No one knew what Hoseok would do if you didn’t recover.

“Hey Y/n-ah, you’re looking better. All of your bruises have gone away and your cuts have healed. I came up with a new dance for us to learn if, I mean when you wake up. Hoseok Hyung I-” Jimin stuttered at the end when they all glared at him for his slip up. They then looked to Hoseok and saw his shoulders sink with a look of hopelessness on his features.

Jin pushed Jimin away and tried to reassure everyone, especially Hoseok, “You will wake up and when you do we can do an episode of EatJin!” He brushed some hair away from your forehead and gave it a kiss.

“We’ll work on some songs if you want when you recover Y/n,” Namjoon smiled and gave your knuckles a kiss.

Yoongi looked at the time and put arm around Hoseok’s shoulders, “I’m sorry Hobi but we have to leave now. We got that meeting.”

Hoseok sighed as he looked at you with longing causing the members hearts to clench. He looked so sad and broken. Jimin regrets basically saying you weren’t going to wake up. He probably broke Hoseok even more and made him lose hope.

“You wake up soon, okay Y/n? You need to wake up before we go on tour. Army misses you so much and they need you to wake up. If you don’t want to wake up for any of us then at least wake up for Hobi Hyung. He misses you the most. He loves you so much and he needs you to wake up. Okay Y/n? Wake up for us please,” Jimin’s voice shook as his cries slowly became louder. Taehyung pulled him into a hug and whispered soothing things in his ear trying to calm him down.

Hoseok had started crying halfway through Jimin’s little speech and couldn’t stop even if he tried, “Please wake up soon Y/n, I miss you so much. I’ll see you soon I love you baby girl.” He gave you one last kiss and let go of your hand.

As a group they stared at you one last time and left the room, their hope slowly decreasing the longer they had to wait for you to wake.

--00--00--00--00--

“It’s been two months since I’ve last seen your beautiful eyes and your breathtaking smile. We leave for tour in two weeks. I know that even if you still aren’t awake you’ll be cheering us on. If you can hear me, squeeze my hand. Move your fingers just please do something so I know you can hear me. Please baby…” Hoseok was once again crying. Everyone in the room held their breath as they waited to see any sign of you moving. Collectively they let out a sad sigh as you remained unresponsive.

Namjoon cleared his throat, “Why don’t we let Hoseok have some time with her?” Six of the seven members nodded their agreement and followed him out so Hoseok could speak in private.

“Baby please...please wake up. I don’t know how much longer I can go on without hearing your voice. You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you. Y/n baby please, please, please wake up.” Hoseok’s hold on your hand tightened as your heart monitor starting slowing down, “No, no baby please. You can’t die. Please don’t die. Y/n please.” He leaned over your body, grabbing onto you with a tight grip and he started screaming and weeping. Your heart monitor had flat-lined.

The boys heard all of the noise from the hallway and ran in, followed by doctors and nurses. What they saw was going to be engraved in their memories: You were looking paler than you had when they left the room. The monitor was flat. Hoseok was clinging your body to him while doctors and nurses tried to get him to let you go.

All six of the BTS members ran and clutched Hoseok pulling him off of you after a few tries. As they pulled him out of the room, the hospital staff started giving you CPR trying their hardest to revive you. Outside your room Hoseok was still yelling out and trying desperately to get to you. He couldn’t leave you. You couldn’t be gone. He wouldn’t believe it. You would never leave him. He gave up on his plan to get to you and instead switched to trying to run away. The only thing he could think about was being with you. In the afterlife. Realizing this the guys held onto him while forming a circle around him. They wouldn’t let their brother end his life. No, they knew you wouldn’t want that.

Fifteen minutes later and the staff inside your room came out with grave faces. This causes Hoseok to break down even more. Yelling how it wasn’t fair. You were too young to leave the world. You had nothing wrong. How it was all his fault. That’s what kept running through his head: It’s his fault. He killed you. He’s the reason you were dead. You died thinking he wouldn't care. That he hated you. What they didn’t know was that while a nurse was turning off the heart monitor and putting everything away you were slowly waking up. You groaned as the nurse was writing on your chart.

Her head snapped up to look at you with wide eyes. Regaining her focus she rushed to you, “Y/n sweetie? Can you hear me?” You groaned once again as your eyes fluttered open slowly. You winced at the bright light before you got used to it.

The nurse ran out of the room, “She’s awake!!” Everyone’s head turned towards her fast and rushed into the room to see you sitting there looking around in slight confusion. Doctor Lee came over and took your vitals while the nurse hooked you back up to the heart monitor. In the meantime the BTS boys were all staring at you in disbelief as tears flowed down their cheeks. They couldn’t believe it. You were alive.  

“Would you guys like to come over here and see her?” Doctor Lee smiled at them and proceeded out of the room with the nurse following.

Six out of seven of them rushed over as Hoseok stayed rooted to the place he was standing at. He felt as if his legs wouldn’t allow him to move. He desperately wanted to come and hold you but he was afraid. What if you didn’t remember him? What if you hated him? They all looked at him as his eyes watered.

“Hi Hobi,” your voice was soft as you gave a small smile. Seeing you smile and hearing your voice caused him to rush towards you, crushing you in his arms.

He sobbed into your hair, “I missed you so much. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby. Please don’t hate me.” His sobs grew in volume as you filled him with great relief, “I could never hate you Hobi.”

You pulled away from him after a while and looked at the boys with a big grin, “So about all those promises you made me.”

“You heard us?” Yoongi asked you in disbelief. They didn’t think you could actually hear them.

You chuckled, “Oh yeah I did and I can’t wait to see your sacred studio Yoongi-ah!” This caused him to groan and throw his head back in annoyance. Although anyone could tell he wasn’t really annoyed seeing as he had a huge smile gracing his face.

“You’re coming on tour with us and I don’t care what Bang PD says. You’re not leaving my sight. Ever.” Hoseok spoke in such a serious tone that everyone knew he wasn’t going to be taking a no as an answer .

You looked at him lovingly, “I love you so much Hoseok.”

“I love you so much more Y/n,” love was heard in his words and he gave you a soft and passionate kiss.