#fell asleep for a couple hours and then woke up sweating to death

[lagtrain]

unstoppable force (my ability to get really fucking hot during the night) vs immovable object (my constant need to have Something covering me so i can sleep)

[deakyjoe]

In Sickness & In Health

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no pronouns used but Din does call Reader “cyar’ika”)

Category: sick fic, fluff

Summary: Din cares for you when you're sick.

Warnings: sickness/illness, Grogu being a menace, Din being awkward, cuddling, hurt/comfort, fluff basically

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: I am recovering from a cold.

Consider buying me a coffee :)

You'd woken up sick, quite possibly in the worst condition of your life. Your limbs ached, your head was pounding, your stomach turned at every tremor of the Crest, your throat was sore and you could barely breathe through your nose. Death felt like it was approaching you at any second.

Din insisted that you were being dramatic.

He was sure that you'd just picked up a minor illness from the last planet you'd stopped on for supplies and would recover in a couple of days. He told you to rest and to stay away from Grogu as much as possible, unsure of the strength of the child's immune system.

Which would have been easy considering all you wanted to do was curl up into a tiny ball in the dark and sleep. Unfortunately, the kid was just a little too curious in nature and wanted to see what was wrong with you. And he wouldn't take no for an answer. This caused Din to lock him away in the cockpit with a shiny ball to occupy him for the majority of the time while you recovered. 

"I feel bad." You told your travelling companion after Grogu had been shut away.

"You'll feel worse if you give him this disease and he dies." The Mandalorian replied, handing you an extra blanket after assuring you that it was fine that you used his bunk to sleep in.

Your eyes widened in fear, heart beating rapidly in your chest suddenly. "I thought you said this was a common illness!"

"Yes, but he is only a child." He sighed, gesturing for you to lie down. "You will be fine. Now go to sleep."

You mumbled to yourself lowly but did as he said anyway, drifting into a dreamless sleep once Din had closed the door.

You awoke some time later, sweat pouring out of you in floods as you burned as hot as a supernova. In your delirious fevered state you got out of the bunk, laid down on the floor of the hull and fell asleep again.

When you woke up again, a few hours later you assumed, you could feel something touching you.

As your eyes cleared, you realised that Din was sat beside you on a crate patting your head.

Your brows raised in surprise. "What are you doing?"

"Soothing you." He mumbled through the modulator.

"By doing this?" You croaked, glancing up to where his wrist hovered above your eyes.

He paused. "Do you... do you not like it?"

"Don't dislike it." You said. "It's just a little strange."

"The kid likes it."

"Do I look like a green baby with large ears to you?"

He hesitated.

"Don't answer that." You grumbled, turning to bury your face in the thin blanket you'd dragged to the floor with you.

"You were talking in your sleep. I thought it might help."

"Oh." You whispered, embarrassed about what you might have said.

"It was mostly incoherent mumbling."

"Oh." Thank the stars.

"Mostly." There was a hint of teasing amusement to his voice which you were terrified to question.

But you did anyway. "What does that mean? What did I say?"

He ignored your questions. "You should get back into bed."

"Too hot."

"Get back into bed, cyar'ika." He insisted, holding a gloved hand out to help you up.

You did as he said, too tired to argue anymore.

"I'll come back to check on you in a while." Din told you before disappearing to the cockpit again.

You faded in and out of sleep before the Mandalorian came back with a bowl of soup and a restless Grogu at his side a little later.

Worry plagued your mind momentarily as you cautiously eyed the kid. "I don't want to get him sick."

"He missed you." Din replied with a small shrug, handing you the bowl and a spoon.

You smiled down at the kid weakly, glad to see him. He was a nice presence to have around, almost always happy about something. The Mandalorian was the opposite in that regard - always unhappy about something, apart from the child, but was still a nice presence to have around. Overall, the combination of the both of them was making you feel better. A lot better. There was no one else you'd rather spend your sick days with.

The three of you ate in silence, just the occassional babble of nonsense from Grogu as he slurped down his dinner. The warm food made your throat hurt less but despite its temperature, you started to get cold.

You wrapped the blanket more tightly around yourself in the hope that it would help but had little success. So you distracted yourself by watching Din and Grogu interact instead. Maybe the warm feeling they created in your heart would extend to the rest of your body.

The dull hum of the ship combined with the quiet mumbled, very much one-sided, conversation between the two other members of the clan caused you to grow sleepy again. Which Din quickly noticed when your eyelids started drooping and your head lolled to the side a couple of times. So he swiftly put the child to bed and sent him back to the cockpit before returning to you.

"You should go back to bed." He stated, noticing your intense grip on the blanket as he sat you down on the end of his bunk. "What's wrong?"

"I'm cold." You confessed, even though it was pretty obvious by your violent shivering and chattering teeth. "Freezing actually."

Din did nothing for a moment, just stared at you and seemingly contemplated something if the way his fingers twitched at his sides was any indication, before hitting a switch and plunging the hull into darkness.

"What are you doing?" You blinked, suddenly feeling more awake as you tried to adjust to the lack of light.

"Sshh." He replied, the clang of metal on metal punctuating the word for him.

Was he... was he undressing?

"Din, stop."

"I said sshh." His voice was clear, no muffling from a modulator or helmet. His face was out in the open.

You stayed silent until you felt hands land on your shoulders, letting out a small gasp at the contact.

"Lie down on your side." Din mumbled, gently pushing you back.

The protest you had prepared died on your tongue as you felt him crawl into the bunk beside you and settle down at your back as the two of you laid down. He got as close to you as possible, arms wrapping around you and legs tangling with yours.

"What're you doing?" You whispered despite relaxing back against him and embracing the heat he was radiating.

"Warming you up." He mumbled into the back of your neck, lips grazing your skin.

"No!" You whined, wriggling a little to attempt getting out of his grasp. "I don't want you to get sick."

"Don't breathe on me then." He answered simply, arms locking around you to hold you in place. "Now go to sleep."

You would've fought more, concerned with his health, if it wasn't for the fact that this position felt good. So good. He was warm and soft and you felt so safe and secure in his hold. Maybe just cuddling for a little while wouldn't be too risky. At least, that's what you told yourself as you fell into a deep slumber.

It only took a couple of days before rattling, shaky coughs could be heard echoing around the ship from a certain bounty hunter's modulator.

[nervoushottee]

A Solemn Promise Ch.3 | Joel Miller Series

  

Summary: Outbreak Day.

Warnings: Violence, pregnancy, car crashing, death, guns, usual the last of us shit so please keep that in mind.

Note: THIS IS NOT EDITED. If I edit this I will hate it more than I already do an delete the whole thing. But I need to get over the hill and get this out.

I hope you enjoy!

comments and reblogs are so appreciated <3

---- ---- ---- ----

2:16 AM.

You woke up to Sarah shaking your shoulders, calling your name repeatedly. You slowly blink the sleep away from your eyes. “Where’s dad?” she asks you. 

You had been sleeping on Joel’s side of the bed. A normal recurrence that you do whenever you miss him. His pillow still smelled like him and it was warm and comforting for both you and the baby. You rub your eyes to get a better look at the young girl turning on your side to face Sarah. “He went to go get Tommy. Said he'd be back in a couple of hours.”  

“Well it’s more than a couple hours.”

You grumble in confusion, taking a look over at the alarm clock. Every ounce of sleep gone from your body, your confusion now turned to worry once you read the time. Sarah was right, he should’ve been back by now. 

The two heard dogs barking, helicopters flying through the sky and a dull almost explosion sound in the distance. The sounds make Sarah jolt in shock and you sit up properly. 

“What’s going on out there?” You said out loud.  “I don’t know, I woke up and I heard a loud noise and came in here. I’m scared.” Sarah said to you truthfully.

Sarah looked at you with pleading eyes. It was the look that made you feel like you would do anything in the world to keep her from looking that way again. 

Upon hearing those words, you placed your legs on the edge of the bed, slipping in your gray sweats and rubbing Sarah’s shoulder.

 “It’ll be alright, let’s go downstairs and look for your dad, maybe he fell asleep on the couch or something.” You say, trying to give some ounce of hope. You were truly hoping for it also. 

 The preteen nodded eagerly, following you as you both walked out the bedroom door. 

Sarah grabs your hand to hold into hers and you welcome it without hesitation.  The hallway that was once warm and full of light was now dark and. “Dad?” Sarah called out. 

The two of you walked down the stairs. You went into the living room to see if Joel had in fact slept on the couch like you hoped him to. He wasn’t.

“Fuck.” you whispered to yourself quietly. “Joel, where are you?”

A loud noise came suddenly causing Sarah to gasp. You called her name, following the noise that the young girl made. You walked into the kitchen to see Mercy, the Adler’s dog, barking anxiously and whimpering.

Sarah opened the door, which welcomed the dog to climb into her lap with a cry as Sarah knelt down to pet the dog. “Easy…what are you doing here boy?” 

You suddenly felt a chill run down your arm. You felt it was due to the anxiety you felt rather than the cold chill of the night air. You muttered to Sarah that you’d be back and quickly went into the living room to grab the cardigan you had once hour merely hours before. You had left it there on the couch after the movie, planning to move it tomorrow like you usually do.

You slipped it on and put on the house slippers you had left also. 

You turn to head back in the direction where you left Sarah. The house was quiet. No sound of Sarah’s reassurance to the fearful dog. Nor the scared whines that the dog made before you left. 

“Sarah?” you called her name, but no answer. 

You didn’t need another second to walk back into the kitchen and see Sarah was gone. The door the young teen had went through was still open. “Shit.” You quickly walk out the door looking around the dark neighborhood in view of Sarah or the dog. You could only assume that Sarah took Mercy back to the Adler’s and you  hoped to God that this time your assumption was right. 

The neighborhood felt eerie. The houses now dark and uninviting, the street lights illumining the streets yet leaving such a grim light in its wake. “Mrs. Adler?” you heard Sarah call. Closing your eyes briefly and letting a sigh of relief wash over you, you briskly walk up to the neighbor’s house. 

The door was wide open and what once felt like a welcoming atmosphere turned cold and made you more nervous and antsy to get Sarah out of there. You walked inside the house slowly engulfing yourself into the dark atmosphere. “Sarah?” you whispered softly. Despite the urgency to find the young girl, something was keeping you from yelling her name. Something felt off and you think you speaking any louder would do more harm than good. You slowly but surely walked down the hallway into the kitchen. You hear a noise indicating movement in the process.  

You paused when you saw Sarah, sighing in relief as you picked up the pace to walk up to her. “Sarah, thank G-”

The words were taken out of  your mouth as you nearly slip and fall on the kitchen floor. You grab onto Sarah for balance and the your girl grips your arm with the same vigor but for a different reason. You look down at you shoes to see what you had slipped was a long line of blood. Your slippers and Sarah’s shoes now bloodied. 

Your heart skips a beat at the crimson color. Your eyes move to follow the trail of blood to see Mr.Adler on the floor acros from the two of you. Sarah’s eyes hadn’t moved from the old man since you arrived, his chest and neck covered in blood as he whispered desperately. “Help me.”

At his sudden plead Sarah grip tightened onto you as you  instinctively use the arm that Sarah was gripping to slowly push the girl behind you  for her safety. Trying not to make any noise or sudden movements, Sarah slowly gets behind you per your request. 

The old man’s eyes flickered down briefly, indicating for the two of you to look down. You do as he implies, your heart beating inside your throat. You could hear the sound of it thumping in your ears. The two of you take a few steps forward and see none other than Mrs. Adler’s mother hunched over Mrs. Adler. 

 The room was quiet with nothing but the sound of  munching. You could feel the bile trying to come out of your throat, your breath quickening beneath your chest. Sarah gasps which causes  Nana to slowly raise her head up at the sound. Her mouth her leaving Mrs. Adler’s neck as she looks up at the two of you. 

Tendrils spew out at her mouth as she stares, wide eyed.  She stands up with a quickness you had never once seen Nana do in your life. The woman in question breathes as she looks at you with a hunger in her eyes before she screams. 

“Run!” you yell to Sarah, pushing her back as you feel the girl dragging your arm with her as she runs. Before you leave you run you catch a glimpse of Nana running after you.  The two of you sprint out the door, gasping for air in fear as you step onto the street. You turn your  head at the sound of a car speeding and the bright headlights that were coming towards the two of you. 

You keep your arms wrapped around the girl, pushing her behind you for a second time that night. “Stay close to me.” And true to your word, you can feel the young girl nod her head at your demand, getting as close as she can to you. The truck stops a few feet in front of you and you quickly realize it's no other than Tommy’s truck.

Joel gets out of the car with a quickness as he walks briskly toward you two. “Get in the truck!” he yelled. “Right now!” he demands. But you and Sarah couldn’t move. Too frightened from what you had seen just seconds before. Joel grabs the both of you with each hand and guides you to the truck. From the corner of your eye you see Tommy leaving the driver side with a rifle in his hands. 

A noise coming from within the neighbor’s homes stops you. The four of you see Nana running out, throwing herself out of the home falling to the floor. She lays still for a few seconds, causing Joel to creep slowly toward the elderly woman which causes you to grab onto his arm in fear and mutter his name quickly to get him to stop. 

There was a sound coming from the house and they all saw Nana throwing herself out of the door, falling on the patio. She lifted herself up and looked at them. “What are we doin' Joel?” you hear Tommy say, turning to see the younger brother aim the rifle toward the elderly woman as he quickly walks in front of you and Sarah. 

Before Joel could respond, Nana charges at them. Running with a force none of you could begin to comprehend. You gasped, unconsciously backing away as Sarah’s arms tightened around your waist as much as she possibly could. 

 The minute Nana got any closer, Joel gripped the wrench tightly and swung it as hard as he could. The metal slammed right against Nana’s skull, causing the woman to fall on the ground still. Joel dropped the bloodied wrench letting out a quick sigh. 

The sound of his daughter cry made him turn quickly. Sarah stepped out from behind you, releasing her firm grip from around your waist. Her hands fall to her sides as she stares at Nana. “You killed her.” 

Joel goes to her side within seconds after she says those words.  “Baby, I’m sorry. Are you both okay?” he pleads in question. Almost kneeling between the two of you. Placing one of his hands against Sarah’s cheek and the other against your waist. The two of you nodding quickly. You eyes were still looking at the now dead woman. 

“Joel we gotta go.” Tommy tells him, keeping and eye out for their surroundings. You knew this wasn’t going to be the end of it. 

“You two have to listen to me, It’s not just the Adlers.”Joel explains, his eyes flickering to both yours and Sarah’s. He cups his daughters cheeks to show any sort of comfort he could give in that moment.  “But we are gonna be brave and we’re gonna get out of this.” 

An explosion of fireworks interrupted them and Joel instinctively tugged you and Sarah closer to his body to protect you. “Joel we got to get out of here.” you said wearily, your voice betraying you with cracks and shakiness. 

“She’s right Joel, we gotta go come on.” Tommy says to the three of you. “Get in the truck come on.” Joel ushers you both to the truck. You all begin to get into the car. Tommy sliding back in the front seat and Joel ushering Sarah to backseat. 

You head to the other side of the truck to get in but Joel stops you quickly with his hand.  Your head turns to him quickly, looking down to grasp onto his arm for dear life.

 “Hey, hey look at me.” Your breathing came out at a rapid pace, you tried to calm yourself down to listen to what Joel had to say to you. “We’re going to be okay.” he says to you. No ounce of fear was present in his voice. Yet in his eyes could tell you all. His was serious in what he said. He meant it, and you wouldn't doubt that for a second. But you caught the short glimpse of fear in his eyes. And you honestly couldn’t blame him. You nodded your head rapidly,  “Yeah.” agreeing, but not truly believing. 

— — — —

Go pick up Tommy and go home. 

Go pick up Tommy and go home. That was the only thing on Joel’s to do list when he left his family a few hours ago. He thought it would be the usual late night drive to the county jail. The moon out, streets dark and the roads quiet. Mostly everyone sleep and tucked into their beds. Only a few stragglers and night shift workers on the road. Joel would play some music on the radio at low volume with the windows down. 

It was just supposed to be one of those nights. 

But when he drove to get Tommy, what he saw was something unimaginable. All he could think of is to get back home.

Once Tommy was safe, he had to get back home. He had to get to you and Sarah. To your baby. To protect to protect the three of you with all his might or die trying. But dying wouldn’t be an option. Not until he could get you both out of here. 

“You take 7-”Joel states. 

“71, I know.” Tommy says to his brother as he drives. The brothers going back and forth about which directions to take. “Daddy?” Joel turns to look at Sarah. He sees the two of you, Sarah’s head placed against your chest as two of you hold on to each other for dear life. 

Joel will get his family out of here. No matter what he needs to do. 

“We don’t know.” Joel says to his daughter. “They’re saying it’s a virus, some kind of parasite.” Tommy tells them. His eyes still on the road, driving them to what they hope can be an escape from it all.  “Is it from terrorists?” his daughter asks. 

“We don’t know.” Joel repeats firmly. This time turning his head to Tommy,his eyes stern indicating “don’t bring that shit up again”. He didn’t want Sarah to worry anymore than she needed to. If he could help it. 

You still hadn’t said anything, your eyes were wide as you looked lost in your head. Joel turns back around to help his brother keep an eye out on the road. 

“Are we sick?” The words Sarah says run through out Joel’s mind. Were they sick? Were the Adler’s? What the hell was going on and how is he going to get them out of here?

Joel’s train of thought is interrupted to the sound of your voice. “Of course not.” you mutter to her. A short sense of relief washes over the man in the passenger seat at finally hearing the sound of your voice.

 Joel looks in the rear view mirror to see you place your hand against Sarah’s head as you softly brush her hair with the palm of your hand as an attempt to reassure the young girl. 

He will get you both out of this. 

“No cellphones, no radio. Minute ago, the newsman wouldn't shut up.” Tommy mocks, sitting up to get a better view of the dark road. After a minute or so that dark road soon turned bright with an orange blaze. Joel turns his head to see a house in the middle of the field was now all on fire. 

“Holy shit.” you gasp quietly. Everyone's eyes on the burning building from the right of them. 

“God. That’s Jimmy’s place.” His younger brother says as he slows down to get a better view. They drive by the old farmhouse that would soon be burned down to nothing. Tommy accelerates the gas and the trucks move faster to get to where they need to go.

 Joel's eyes flicked up into the rear view mirror to see the two people he cared most about, cradled into each other's arms. Sarah sinking herself further into you. He could hear you whispering words of reassurance to Sarah who would nod after every one.

“We’re going to be okay.” you insist to her quietly. 

You lifted your head back into the your seat’s headrest. Joel watches you close your eyes for a brief second. Almost as if you were sending a prayer to anyone who was listening. He almost didn’t hear the soft “please” that left your lips if he wasn't watching you so attentively. His eyes flicker down to your stomach and the determination rushes through him with more vigor.

 You open yours and flickered it stare at Joel in the rear view mirror. Your eyes finding his already staring at you. her eyes closed for a brief second before opening them to see Joel staring at her through the mirror. The couple stared at each other for a few seconds. The two of them didn’t speak with words but Joel hoped to every God that was out there that you understood what his eyes was pleading at you for. 

 “I will get us out of this.”

“We are all going to get out of here.”

“I love you both and will do anything I need to, to get us safe.”

Every sentence that ran through his head, he hoped you could see the determination in his eyes. 

Joel’s eyes moved back to the front of him when he hears the sound of man asking for help. 

“Here! Right here!” Tommy slows the truck down and begins to turn off the side of the road toward the stranded family. “Whoa,what are you doing?”

“They got a kid Joel.” Tommy states.

“So do we. Keep driving.” Joel demands. 

You all could hear the sounds of the father pleading for them to stop. But Joel didn’t care, he couldn’t. His main priority was making sure his family was safe and out of this mess.

“Someone else’ll come along.” 

The truck filled with silence as Tommy kept driving. The sign of the highway popping into view causes the younger brother to speed up. Antsy to get everyone out of here. As they approached the highway they say a wave of cars in front of them. All of stuck in a traffic jam to try to get out of dodge. “Fuck! Everyone had the same fucking idea.” Tommy exclaimed

Joel curses to himself as he quickly shakes his head. “Take the field. We cut across and pick up on the west side.” 

Tommy nods at Joel’s idea, muttering the direction he needed to go. Tommy turns the car to head into the field. Over the hill of the field the family of four were met with bright headlights in the far distance. “Shit! Fucking Army!” Tommy curses

“Ins’t that good?” Sarah questions her uncle, leaning more to see what’s in front of them. The younger brother shook his head, “For them, that’s the highway we’re trying to get to.”

Joel didn’t know what to do. He just knew he had to just be one step ahead. Keeping thinking about new ideas, new ways, new directions to bring them to safety. “Go North.” 

Tommy starts to protest but Joel quickly interrupts him. “We can’t go south, we can’t go east, we can’t go west. Where else are we supposed to go? Tommy, move!”

Tommy pulls the truck to head north. Joel feels like this is their best option. Their only option to get out of here. And he just hoped that they were gonna be able to find somewhere out of it. 

“What if it's everywhere?” Sarah says to everyone. Joel can feel Tommy’s stare against the side of his face. He hears you give Sarah a few comforting “shhs” but never a response. Because the truth was, no one knew that answer. And none of them thought that Texas was the only place this was happening in.

“What the fuck?!?” Tommy exclaims at the sound of  loud plane that was flying way too low near a city to be legal as it passed the truck. The family headed into a town where the streets where filled with people. So many people screaming and in disarray making it hard for Tommy to drive. “Tommy you can’t stop hear.” Joel states.

Frustrated Tommy turns to his brother, “I can’t drive through them all!” 

The two brothers going back and forth about where to go. Ever so often Joel looks back between his two girls who were looking everywhere outside the vehicle. He turns back to the front to help Tommy with trying to get away out. “We gotta keep moving.” 

“Dad?!?” Sarah says loudly to get his attention. 

“Holy fuck!” You say at the same time. 

Joel turns to see what the two of you are freaked out about. There was a plane coming down, heading right towards them. And before they could do much about it, the plane crashes behind them causing an explosion to hit their truck. 

— — — —

The muffled sound of a car alarm going off brings you back into conscious. Slowly you turn your head to the sound of it. You feel something, or someone grasping your leg, tapping it a few times in attempt to wake you up. 

“Baby, Come on darlin’ you gotta get up.” Joel pleads. 

You can hear him but he feels so far away. You groan as you open your eyes, blinking a few times to see Joel hovering over you. His arm was scratched, and he was bleeding. The blood on his arm brought you back to reality. 

The plane falling down. The explosion. The car crashing.

Your eyes go wide as you turn your body to Joel and Sarah. “you okay?”. The young girl in the cuddled into Joel's arms. Before you can get a response you feel Tommy grabbing your shoulders, slowly pulling you out of the wrecked car. The side of your stomach started to cramp up.

You groan as your feet plant to the floor. Your head hurts, feels like your eye was going to fall out of your socket. “You okay sis?” Tommy says to you once you're balanced. Looking down at you to check for any major injuries. Your head felt like it was going to explode. The side of it felt wet. You went to reach it but Tommy stops your hand. “Better not touch it, it’ll hurt more.” Tommy says to you.  “Joel and Sarah.”  you mutter out

 “We gotta get off the street.” Tommy says loudy for Joel to hear. You wince at the volume. And out of nowhere a cop car comes speeding down. Slamming itself right into what once was Joel’s truck. Tommy pushes you behind him but the impact causes you both to fall a bit. 

“Tommy?!? Baby?!?” Joel calls for you and his brother. Tommy helps you get up for the second time and heads closer to the car to get a better view at Joel. His head appeared in gap between the cars on fire. “Head to the river! I’ll find a way, and we’ll see you there.” Tommy says determined. 

“Baby.” Joel says but you interrupt him. 

“Get her out of here Joel, I’ll be okay.” 

And that's the last thing you say to each other as you part ways. Tommy tugs on the bottom of your shirt to get your attention. “Let's go, stay behind me and stay close.” You nod you head quickly. Tommy grabs your hand to place it on the belt loop of his jeans for you to keep up your pace with his. You’re grateful for his attentiveness.

The two of you go down the street of  the destructed town. With Tommy’s rifle raised in defense he walks quickly as he turns to the left. You simply keep you grip tight on the belt loop and walk as best and as fast as you can with how tired and dizzy you felt. Your hand placed against your stomach in an attempt of comfort. 

With everything going on you had almost forgot about the being inside of you. Your mind elsewhere worried about what the hell was happening. But now as Tommy walks through the street and try to get you both to the river to meet up with Tommy. The worst fear that could always keep you up at night creeps into your head. 

Please let the baby be okay. 

Please let Joel and Sarah make it to the river. 

People are still screaming and wandering, which causes you to look around in fear. Your train of thought is interrupted by Tommy. He stops in front of you, causing you to walk into the back of his shoulder. He turns to you, “Hey, you’re okay. We aren’t far, just a few more blocks.” He waits to you nod your head again, not wanting to trust your voice. 

Tommy grips his hands on the rifle and keeps walking. You follow behind attentively but a piece of debris causes you to trip and your hand releases from Tommy’s jeans. 

It only took a matter of seconds. Just seconds. 

In a blink of an eye, Tommy takes a few more steps ahead of you. He quickly stops at the sudden change of weight from your hand being gone. You watch him turn around and call out your name to come to him. 

It all felt in slow motion. Watching Tommy call your name. Seeing the steps he made to get back to you. You head feeling so heavy that you could just sleep on the dirty floor. But you persisted. You took one step and were just inches way from Tommy. But the sound of a car screeching got the attention of you both. The sedan coming toward the two of you at a fast speed. So fast the two of you didn’t comprehend it quick enough. Pieces of debris get sent underneath the car and in just one second, it swerves in disarray and head straight for you. 

The last thing you hear is Tommy calling your name. 

And the last thing you see, is the bright white headlights before it hits you. 

— — — — —

Author’s note: Holy shit this chapter was a bitch to write. I was so nervous to write this because of how close to canon this is. I’m not very good at action writing so I hope this is okay! Its not edited at all take that for what you will. I honestly hate most of it so if I do try to edit it I might scrap the whole thing. 

Chapters 1-3 were already “pre-written” or just had some substance of words since March so it was “easy” to get these out. BUT I have nothing pre-written after that so updates might be more sporadic. And honestly, Outbreak Day took a lot out of me so I might not write in this fic for a while but who knows?

Very long note but THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! IT MEANS THE WORLD TO SEE YOUR REBLOGS AND COMMENTS AND LIKES. SO DON’T HESITATE TO

Taglist: @givemeth @lost-inside-my-mind23 @marantha @lunxramour @silas-222 @drewharrisonwriter

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[applejuicefruit]

heyy i love your works! can i ask for richarlison comforting reader after she had a nightmare? <3

FINALLY MY BOYYY 🔥🐦❤️

I loved writing this ⭐️ I hope you like it ⭐️

Nightmares

Every night it was always the same routine.

You fell asleep first. Your boyfriend Richarlison following you a couple of minutes after. He knew about your insomnia so he always made sure that you fell asleep first, it didn’t matter who tired he was, he always prioritised you.

This night was one of the nights you couldn’t fall asleep. He made you some tea and told you about his day, you love his voice.

40 minutes later you managed to fall asleep so Richarlison turned the lights off and wrapped his arms around you falling asleep.

It was a couple of hours later that you started being agitated. You started moving and in doing so you woke Richarlison up.

He didn’t know what was going on so he simply closed his eyes again until he heard your soft whimpers.

He turned the lights on and saw that you were crying but didn’t know the reason why.

“Meu amor?” he said almost in a whisper trying to wake you up “babe?” he shakes you a bit but you wouldn’t wake up “honey wake up” he whispered a bit louder trying not to scare you.

You were crying and you wouldn’t wake up, truth was you were scaring him.

“Sweetheart please wake up…” he took your face in his hand but you wouldn’t wake up.

“Babe?” he shouted knowing that this might have scared you.

In that moment you woke up with a loud scream.

“Hey hey shhh…” he tried to calm you down but you were so scared that you wouldn’t even let him touch you.

Your eyes full of tears and sweat was covering your face.

It took you a couple of minutes to realise you were in your bedroom and that you weren’t in any danger situation.

“Richi?” you whispered

“Hey babe…can I touch you?” he asked looking into your eyes and you nodded “i need words baby…”

“yes” you said in a low voice

“okay…” he moved carefully on the bed and put his hands around your body letting you sit on his lap “meu amor what happened?” he then asked you softly

“I had a nightmare…”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I-I…no” you said putting your face into the crook of his neck

Whatever you dreamt of had scared you to death you wouldn’t even telling him about it.

“Okay, it’s fine don’t worry…” he started to massage your shoulders a bit trying to release all of your stress

“I’m sorry I woke you up” you said now looking at his face

“No sense” he simply said

“But you have a match tomorrow…you should be resting…”

“You’re my priority love…your safety comes first”

You simply nodded to tired and drained to even reply back.

He continued massaging your shoulders and you fell asleep again.

He covered the both of you with a fluffy blanket and kept you close to his body.

He sang a brazilian song hoping it would help you to calm down a bit since you were scared.

He fell asleep a few moments after, knowing that in the morning you would have talked about what happened that night.

[finelinevogue]

Can you do something where Y/N is sick and Harry has to take care of her please?

i actually had written something similar to this before so i present you a lengthy blurb;

You were pretty sure if you got invited in to hell it would feel something like this.

Hot. Sticky. But chilled.

You had come down with a concerningly high temperature. Along with the added luxuries of a deafening headache, cold sweats and an upset tummy. Your body was burning all over, as if it had just been freshly cooked in the oven but you felt colder than ice. It was a confusing juxtaposition, but there it was.

You'd called Harry, since he was in the studio recording his new music and asked him to come home early. You didn't even get to the reasoning of why he should come home before he hung up, telling you he was already vacating the premises. You hated to be that needy girlfriend who had to call about nearly everything, but Harry loved it more than anything. He loved the fact that you needed him. It gave him purpose, apparently .

You couldn't work out whether you regretted asking him to come home, or whether it was a blessing. It was a very fine line.

It was a blessing because, he looked after you like a mother would her child and made sure he stood by your side any time you found yourself lurched over a toilet. He made you chicken soup from scratch and even tested it to make sure it wasn't too hot, or salty - despite being a vegetarian himself. He even made you honey and lemon tea, which he had to run to the store for the honey. When you say run, you mean run. He didn't want to leave you alone at all, so he put on his running shoes and sprinted to the shop and back. However, it was a slight regret because of how fussy he was over you. He loved it to bits - nursing to your every need.

You truly believed you didn't deserve Harry. He was just too kind and pure for his own good. You were unarguably lucky. Laying on what felt like your death bed, didn't feel so lucky though.

It was now 10 pm and you could hear Harry turning on the alarm for downstairs, the loud beeping noise preventing you from sleep. That's all you'd done all day. Sleep. You thought it'd be more magical than it was. It was just uncomfortable though, because of how cold and hot you were.

Your much better looking other half trudged through the bedroom door within a minute of the alarm going off. He was only wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt and yet he made it look like Gucci Runway 2021.

The jingling of keys signalled Charlie was also present. Charlie was your 2 year old Golden Retriever. He was beautiful. When you and Harry has moved in together 2 years ago you'd managed to persuade him to get a dog. Within a few weeks of moving in you had a 5 month old puppy running around your house. He was your best friend, no doubt about it. He was also ridiculously photogenic.

"Hey Chaz!" You cooed as Charlie walked over to your side of the bed, where you were snuggling down under the sheets. You reached out your hand to give him some loving and attention. You could tell by the small smile and sparkling eyes that he was one happy boy.

"Alright, buddy. Let's leave mum alone." Harry came behind Charlie to manoeuvre him into his bed, which was in the corner of the room. It was more like a big cushion. He started to whine after being forced to leave you - having not seeing you all day. Harry was strict in keeping him downstairs so not to disturb you whilst you were sleeping.

"H it's alright, let him on the bed. He can curl up on my feet." You sympathised with Charlie, as you always did, hating to hear or see him upset. Harry was like the 'bad-cop' when it came to parenting Charlie, because you were too sweet to say no to him.

"You're one spoilt boy, aren’t you?" Harry messed around with Charlie, before telling him he could get up on the bed to see you. Charlie leapt on the bed and wandered over to give you all the kisses he could, before Harry came to calm him down - as you really didn't have the strength.

"I missed you too, Chaz." You quietly laughed, not wanting to set your headache off even more.

"You gonna let me kiss mum now?" Harry rhetorically asked, but as he came over to you Charlie laid down on you so your face was buried underneath his body. You could feel him panting with his adorable tongue out above you, as he hid you from Harry.

"Someone's jealous."

"Feeling like a bloody third wheel over here." Harry tutted and you laughed until you got hot with the movement.

"Harry? Can you move him please?" You whined as you tried to shuffle around.

"Okay Chaz. Let's let mum get some sleep, alright?" Charlie is slowly removed from you and ends up curled on top of your feet, keeping them warm for you.

Harry slipped into the covers and shuffled his way over to you, putting the back of his hand over your forehead and hissing quietly at the simple touch.

"Baby you're so hot." Harry complained.

"I know." You teased with a wink at him, taking his worry out of context and turning it into a flirting compliment.

"Oh piss off!" He chuckled and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you closer. "What am I going to do with you, baby?" Harry then planted only a few delicate kisses to your lips - not wanting to overwork you and your tired body.

••••

You woke up with drowsy eyes to find you're in bed alone.

Your throat was incredibly dry and your whole body was sticky from sweat. Your pyjamas were damp and your face looked like it'd just been drowned in a rainstorm. It was disgusting. Still, you brought the duvet up to cover yourself more, as you let out a dramatic shiver. Why was it so cold?

Mixed into the background noise you could hear the cheering of crowds and it really confused you, until you looked at the wall and noticed the football was playing on re-run on the TV. Manchester United Vs Manchester City. You hated that you knew that just from their football uniforms, but that's what you get for living with a football-crazed boyfriend.

You noticed Harry emerge from the bathroom, a washing up bowl in his arms. He came and sat down in bed, the bucket of water to his side. "What are you doing?" You quietly asked, peering up at him through tired eyes.

"Oi, you're meant to be sleep y’minx." Harry told you off.

"I can't. I'm too uncomfortable. I'm hot, but i'm cold. I also find it hard to sleep without you next to me." You huffed out in annoyance.

"My poorly baby." He leant down to kiss your forehead, "c’mere, baby." He urged.

He helped you move, seeing as your body was really weak, so you could lay down against Harry’s body. He was sat up against the headboard as you nestled down between his legs, your back to his front. It was a lot more comfortable than before - probably because Harry was closer to you. Charlie noticed the disturbance and waited for you to stop moving around, before maintaining the job of guarding your feet.

Once he was happy in his position he fell asleep again, making you jealous of his ability to do that. Especially now.

"Why's the football on?" You asked, motioning towards the TV.

"Had to keep myself awake somehow." He explained, but it only made you more confused.

"Why?"

"So I can take care of you, y’muppet." His words actually melted your heart - more than chocolate could melt on your forehead right now.

After you'd settled, Harry reached into the bucket and drained out a cloth. He made sure all the excess water was cleared before moving it away from the bucket. You hummed in appreciation when he placed it against your forehead, rotating it to the back of your neck also in order to relax and cool you. It made you realise just how hot you were.

"I think i'm dying, Harry." You groaned as the nausea came over you again. Harry kept a firm hold of the cloth on your forehead, dabbing gently and careful to not let any water drip down into your eyes.

"No you're not, baby." Harry gave you a light-hearted laugh.

"Well, living shouldn't feel as shitty as this H." You grumbled, not appreciating his lack of understanding.

“Then just let me take you to the chuffing hospital!" He exclaimed, making Charlie stir slightly.

Harry had been demanding you go to the hospital all day and all evening, but you were too stubborn to go. That, and you were terrified of hospitals - more terrified of needles and blood than anything else. However, you were starting to reach the point where you were giving in to his request, though. It was becoming unbearable to sleep and harder to breathe. You were worried for yourself.

"I don't like it." You pouted like a child, as Harry wrung the cloth through the fresh water again.

"I don't care whether you like it or not, Y/N, I really think we should go. More like need." Harry insisted and you could tell he wasn’t giving up without a fight. You didn’t want that either.

You hated how he was right.

It was only going to get worse from here, and you didn't really want to be alive when that was going you happen, so going to the hospital to get checked over and drugged up seemed like the best option to go for. The more sensible option.

"Fine." You finally accepted, Harry slinking his arms tight around your waist after discarding the cloth in to the bucket. He nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and planted an abundance of kisses there, your skin burning just to the touch.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." He repeated in-between kisses.

•••••

It took 20 minutes to get in to the car. 20 minutes.

All because Charlie was reluctant to letting you get up and go. So Harry had to dress you into a more appropriate attire, with a dog sat on your lower body. It was then half an hour later that you were in the hospital.

The hospital was quiet at this time of night and for that you were grateful. It was obviously a night where little numbers of people were doing silly things to get themselves hurt. There was the odd patient for a minor cut injury and there were a couple of people in for burns. There was even a woman in because she accidentally superglued her hand to a bottle of superglue - ironic, but painful.

You sat patiently on Harrys lap, waiting for someone to escort you to a cubicle. You were freezing cold, to the point where your teeth were chattering - your outside body was giving off the opposite temperature. You tried to get as close to Harry's warmth as possible, pushing your body against his.

"You're alright baby." Harry shushed you, as you let out a small tremble.

"If I do die—"

"Which you won't." Harry chuckled.

"I know, but if I did I want you to know that I love you." You told him. Even though he's heard you say it a million times before, it still made his heart flutter as you spoke each word.

"I love you, baby." He kissed the side of your head. "But you're going to be just fine, so no more talking about you dying okay?"

"Why? It's only a natural thing." You pointed out.

"Sure, but I don't want to think of a world without my girl living in it. So zip it before I make you."

You never thought of dying as a world without Harry before now and it wasn't the time to start thinking about it either. It was a horrible thought and you understood why Harry didn't want you speak about it. That world would be so dark and empty and you hated thinking about it.

Harry was called to the front desk to fill in some forms for you, since your hands were too cold and shaky to do it for yourself. He accidentally wrote 'Styles' as your second name, before realising his mistake and scribbling it out.

“Shit.” Harry went red in the face and chuckled over his silly mistake. His hand was shaky and you smiled at how he got so flustered over something so simple. You rested your hand on top of his, bringing his attention to you.

“One day.” You told him and he leaned to give you a kiss on the lips. You couldn’t help but feel like his lips were a future promise to make sure he wouldn’t have to scribble out his second name the next time it was written next to yours.

The doctor saw you shortly afterwards and you thanked your lucky stars that there was no injections or removal of any blood involved, Harry sticking with you the whole time. Turns out you were suffering from a moderate fever, but the doctor said with good rest it should pass. The doctor had given Harry permission to make a big fuss over you - explaining how he was going to love it and you were going to hate it - and to make sure to come back with even the slightest worsen of the fever. You got given a prescription list of various medications that you'd need to take over the next week or so. After collecting the drugs, you were back in the car on the way home.

"Told you you weren't going to die." Harry smiled, happy to have you still by his side, whilst holding your hand over the gear console.

"Unfortunate for you, I guess."

"Will you shut you, y’bloody nuisance. You know I can't do life without you, Y/N." He spoke softly, squeezing your hand tighter to assure you that he's going nowhere.

"Same here." You smile at him and he smirks back at you with his dimple-loving smile.

"You’ll always be it for me, baby." Harry speaks, before you drift back off to sleep.

Happily.

[maddiwrites]

The Hybrid (I)

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: The Pogues rekindle their friendship with their old childhood best friend and JJ’s first crush, Y/N. Old feelings resurface for JJ and Y/N, possibly leading to a summer neither one of them could ever forget. Due to past trauma, Y/N is reluctant to let anyone into her heart, but JJ never backs down from a challenge, even if he knows it will come back to haunt him in the end.

Note: Thank you for being patient with me as I slowly write this series. I had this idea a long time ago and I’m not finding motivation to write it but the inspiration comes and go. I smile with every comment that is left on my fics and I’m so grateful for this community. Thank you for letting me pursue my creative writing without judgement. Love you guys! (Also, yes. If you didn’t see my last note, I based YN’s family off of the Gilmore Girls characters. That’s who I picture as them.)

Word Count: 8k

 Masterlist   Prologue 

You wake up to someone falling on your bed next to you with a dramatic sigh. Knowing exactly who it is, you choose to ignore her and try getting back to the dreamless sleep you were peacefully having before you woke up.

That is, until she sighs again. 

You flip onto your back and stare up at your ceiling fan that’s quickly spinning above you. “What, Rory?”

“How did it go with Andre and that boy?”

You look at her with one brow raised. “You woke me up to hear about Andre’s love life? That hardly sounds like you. You don’t care about high school drama or hookups.”

“You’re right,” Rory says. “But I thought I would ease you into what I actually need to tell you.”

You turn on right side and look at your sister confused. “What?”

She sighs. “The cafe’s basement flooded last night. Mom needs us there to help her clean up and take inventory on what’s salvageable.”

You turn back on you backside and close your eyes, exhaling a deep sigh. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Unfortunately not,” Rory says and pats you twice on your covered thigh as she sits up. “Come on. I made you pre-cafe coffee. It’s sitting in the kitchen.”

You throw your sheets off of you and trudge to the bathroom to brush your teeth and clean your face. It’s about 8 a.m. At least you were able to get about six hours of sleep. 

Last night, it was hard to let your brain rest to fall asleep. You kept tossing and turning, thinking about the blonde Pogue who walked you home. You missed how easy it was to talk to someone who you felt truly knew you. Your banter rolled off your tongue easily and you never had to worry about offending him because you knew him like the back of your hand. You knew what he could take and what he couldn't. 

Talking to him brought back childhood memories you had hidden deep in your mind. How JJ would constantly poke you until you ripped into a smile on days that were grey. How you used to steal John B’s bandanas until he was chasing you around his house to get them back. How you would draw a mustache and a unibrow on Pope’s face when he fell asleep by the water. 

Those days felt like they were decades ago. So far away, you didn’t know if you’d be able to reach for them again. If it was even possible to get back. 

You thought about texting him. Thanks for walking me back. We should all get together soon! You had written out. But then you deleted the whole message, telling yourself it was because you didn’t know if he even had the same number. But deep down, you were just afraid of the rejection. 

Its been about three years since the four of you had been together in one place. You don’t know what they’ve been through or if they’ve changed. They for sure as hell don’t know what you’ve been through. You don’t know if they're dynamic has changed. Clearly you and JJ can still joke with each other but what about John B and Pope? You heard about John B’s father disappearing at sea, most people believing he’s dead, but John B holding onto hope that’s he’s alive. You always thought about calling him to reach out and offer your condolences. But for the same reason you didn’t text JJ, you never called. It didn’t feel like your place. They had Kie for that now. A little part of you felt jealous of her, like she had replaced you and any memory of you. She seemed nice, but she wasn’t you.

“Ready?” Rory pops her head in to your room as you slip on a cropped plain white zip up jacket over your cropped black tank. 

“As I’ll ever be,” You say and snag the car keys out of her hands. “Don’t even think about it. I’m driving.”

Rory rolls her eyes. “I want to get there safely.”

“And I want to get there quickly.”

“Fine. But we’re taking my car. It actually has doors.”

For your sixteenth birthday, your grandparents gifted both you and Rory your own individual cars and even let you pick them out. Rory chose a black 2020 Honda Civic for it’s safety features and reputation for longevity as if she was planning on handing it down to her future kids. And you picked out a white 2020 Jeep Wrangler with a hard top that pops off along with the doors for a very open and thrilling ride. Everyone but you called it a death trap, but you found it to be the perfect summer car. 

You park Rory’s boring Honda Civic in the back of the cafe in a lot used specifically for employees. The cafe is already booming with teens and families, waiting for their morning coffees and fresh pastries. Kids your age are running around behind the counter with sweat dripping down their brow bone to get everyone’s orders out in a timely manner. 

In the back of the store, your mom walks up the steps from the basement with two large trash bags and immediately notices the two of you. “Oh good. You’re here. Rory, help the girls behind the counter. The dishwasher’s broken and poor Hailey is hand washing everything. Y/N, come with me downstairs.”

“Why does Rory get the fun job?” You grumble and follow your mom back downstairs after she tosses the two trash bags. 

“Because she’s actually nice to the customers.”

“Treat others how you would like to be treated. Isn’t that what everyone always says?” You smirk. You never agreed with the phrase ‘the customer is always right.’ It’s complete bullshit and being the employee shouldn’t mean letting yourself getting verbally abused by a ‘Karen’ on the other side of the counter. 

The basement is used for the cafe’s storage, lined with wooden shelves Steve put together that hold to go cups, back up espresso machines, boxes of coffee and food and ingredients, etc. Now all the boxes are dark and sopping, creating puddles on the concrete floor. 

“Oh my god. Mom. How did this happen?”

“Jenky water pipe busted in the middle of the night,” Steve walks down the stairs and passes your mom a knowing look. It didn’t surprise you that he was here. He’s the jack of all trades. Owns his own automotive shop, builds a lot of his own furniture, actually cooks a decent meal, and has the same outlook on customer service as you do. He was probably your mom’s first call. “Talked to the plumber. They can’t get here until at least noon.”

“Noon? We’ll be underwater by noon. I might as well turn all my employees into a swim team,” Your mom says.

Steve shakes his head. “I was able to hold the leak until he gets here. You should be fine.”

Steve was the first person that actually helped your mother out when's she moved to the Cut. Six months pregnant, she pushed her car into his automotive shop after it broke down on the side of the road. Their banter was similar to the one you and JJ have. He helped save your mom money by building yours and Rory’s cribs, changing table, and dressers. And ever since, the two of them had been connected by the hip, although they both refuse to admit it. You think the pair are just trying to deny the love they clearly share for each other. And you think the main reason for that is because of the incident four years ago with your mom’s ex boyfriend. No thanks to you.

 “Look at you constantly building your resume,” You smirk at him. 

Steve scoffs. “It’s more than what you’re doing.”

You roll your eyes. Steve is the closest thing you have to a father. He practically helped raise you with your mom. He’s the one you turn to whenever a fight with your mom goes too far, which isn't too often but it happens. He usually lets you stay at his house for the night to let you cool off. But he’ll never sugar coat his advice when it comes time for him to give it. Even if you don’t ask for it. He knows growing up with Rory has been challenging. She was clearly your mom’s favorite, or at least that’s what you thought. She has a 4.0 GPA with a realistic dream to get into Brown University and study journalism. She played by every rule, never got into trouble, and spent most of her free nights getting ahead of her school work or staying late at the cafe with an open book from the library across the street. She was an absolute angel to everyone else, making you look like her evil twin. 

You glare at him before turning to your mom with crossed arms. “What do you want me to do, Mom?”

“Actually honey. Can you go to Heywards and grab more coffee filters and napkins. The water soaked right through the plastic wrapping on our last box.”

You nod, leaving your mom and Steve to clean up the basement themselves. Before heading out, you sneak behind the counter and make yourself a quick coffee to go.

“Where you going?” Rory asks as she reaches behind you to grab a banana for her customer at the register.

“Heywards to grab a couple things for Mom.”

“Oh. Make sure to grab toilet paper while you’re out. I think we’re almost out of it.”

“Got it.” 

Heywards is only a short drive from your mom’s cafe. It’s the closest convenient store that isn’t crazy pricey. It’s where your mom gets all her supplies whenever she runs out of things before shipment gets there. 

You use to always come here when you were younger with the boys, each of you, even Pope, stealing a small bag of chips or a candy bar here and there. Little did any of you know, Mr. Heyward caught your thieving hands every time but never said anything. 

The bell above the door chimes when you walk into the store. You know this place as well as you know the cafe, finding the toilet paper and coffee filter immediately. 

When Mr. Heyward looks up from the counter, his smile grows. He can pick you out of a crowd anywhere, but he hasn’t seen you in a long time. Last time he saw you, you had braces and overgrown bushy brows. Now you had bushed hair and shaved legs. 

“Hi. Mr. Heyward,” You grin shyly at him. You don’t know how he’s going to react to see you, unsure of what Pope might have told him about you. 

“Little Miss Y/L/N? Is that you?” Heyward smiles widely, pulling your own lips into a wider smile. “I haven’t seen you for a long time.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy with school and my mom’s cafe...” Both of those things were a lie. You just avoid the Cut to avoid the Pogues. 

“How’s the fam?” 

“They’re good,” You say as Heyward hands you your bags. “Mom says hello by the way. I’m actually taking these to her store now.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger. We miss your smiling face around her. Anette, too.” Heyward says, mentioning his wife. 

“Tell her I said hi.”

“Of course, darling.” 

Heyward and Anette always had a special place in their heart for you and Rory. They’re not one for gossip, but they knew a little bit about what your mom’s been through and have heard plenty of stories about your grandparents. They always thought, despite your mom’s background, that you and your sister were raised impressively. Anette always hoped that one day Pope and Rory would get together. Everyone always wanted their child to be with Rory. 

As your about to leave the store, the bell chimes again with another customer. Only it’s not another customer. It’s Pope and John B. They don’t see you at first, and you wonder if maybe you can sneak out without them seeing you. But something about that felt wrong. Especially because Heyward would more than likely mention to them that you were here. 

Pope sees you first and stops in his tracks. “Y/N?” 

“Hey, guys. Long time no see,” You smile at both of them. You bite down on your lip awkwardly when you meet John B’s stare. You don’t know if you should mention anything about his dad’s disappearance. But what would you say? Sorry? What good would that do?

“How’ve you been?” Pope gives you a small side hug, then John B. 

You shrug. “You know, living the dream.”

“How’s life as a Hybrid?” John B smirks. 

You roll your eyes playfully and groan. “Oh god. Never call me that again.”

You may be considered a Hybrid by everyone else, but you would never put yourself into that category. You grew up a Pogue, the same way everyone else did around you. The only thing tying you to the Kooks are your grandparents. 

“Why?” John B smirks. “I wish I was a Hybrid.”

You smirk back. “Maybe you will be one day. I hear you have a Kook of your own for arm candy.”

You saw a faint hint of blush on John B’s cheek at the mention of his girlfriend but you don’t mention it. “Sarah, yeah. She’s not like the other Kooks.”

“I would hope not. Her brother’s a dick.”

“Yeah,” They laugh. 

“We miss you, you know.” John B says. Pope looks at you, trying to read your expression. John B’s not wrong. They do all miss you, especially Pope. He felt like you were the only one who really understood him. Of course his other friends are great, but you actually took the time to try and understand his passions. Like forensic science. 

“I miss you guys too. It’s been a while.”

“Well, hey. We’re actually all getting together tonight at my place. Nothing big. Just a bonfire and a couple beers. You should stop by,” John B says.

“Yeah,” Pope says, immediately getting hopeful that you’ll show up. 

Your smile falters. The invite makes your heart swell and your lungs contract. It’s an invite you’ve been wanting for three years. And now that you have it, you don’t know what to say. It’d be different if it was just the four of you like old times. But now there’s Kie and Sarah and although you have nothing against them, you’re afraid they won’t accept you. The thought of your boys picking them over you terrifies you. 

“Okay. Yeah, sure. I’ll try to swing by later.” 

Pope smiles wide and looks at his friend to see his reaction. John B grins and nods, almost impressed that you had agreed. But he saw the twitch in your lips when the question was asked. 

“Great. I guess we’ll see you later then.” 

You nod. “Okay. Bye guys.”

You suck in a deep breath when the fresh air outside of Heyward’s store brushes over you. Your heart thumps wildly with both excitement and nerves when you’re finally able to collect your thoughts. You don’t know what you’ll do tonight, but the possibilities can change your entire summer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You spent the rest of the day mopping up the cafe’s basement and rearranging the shelves. You smelled of sweat and coffee grounds by the time you were done and dreamt of the shower you would be taking when you got home. 

Rory drove you home after the two of you closed up the cafe for the day. Neither of you said much. Rory was exhausted from running around behind the counter and you were too busy thinking about whether you’d go back to the place you used to call your second home.

You took a longer shower than usual, still pondering what your night would be like. Your head was telling you to stay home but your heart pulled you in the direction of the Cut. You yearned to hear about what the future held for Pope, and listen to John B retell stories of when you were kids, and be able to stare into JJ’s bright blue eyes without him noticing. 

You changed into a pair of jean shorts and a plain red cropped tank. Rory walks into your room as your brushing out your hair and looks at you as if you lost your mind.

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t wear that,” She says.

You brows scrunch together in confusion. “What are you talking about? I wear shit like this all the time.”

“Not to the Country Club, you don’t.” That’s when it hits you. Today’s been so hectic, you forgot what day it was. “It’s Sunday.”

Sunday dinner at the Country Club is now a weekly commitment forced upon you by your grandparents. Each week, your mom, sister, and you are forced to spend one dinner with your grandma and grandpa. This is basically your mom’s payment back for sending you and Rory to Kook Academy. Only they actually pay for the dinner. It’s usually the longest two hours of your entire week. It’s hard to listen to your grandfather rant about Real Estate and your grandma slyly critique your mother in almost every aspect of her life. 

“Shit. I completely forgot,” You say.

“Well, you better change. We’re leaving in about five minutes,” Rory says then plucks a gold necklace from your dresser. “Oh and can I wear this tonight?”

You sigh. “Sure.”

You change into a baby blue wrap around dress and pin your wet hair into a half up half down due. It’s gonna have to work for the limited time you have to get ready. After applying a thin layer of makeup to look the least bit presentable, you meet your mom and sister by the front door.

“Finally,” Your mom says when she sees you. 

“Sorry. I didn’t realize it was Sunday.”

“It’s okay, honey. I just don’t think I can handle another late remark from Mom today.” She looks you up and down and grins. “You look great.”

Despite the many fiery fights you and your mom can have, she is also your best friend. It’s kind of like a love hate relationship. Steve says it’s because you’re exactly like your mom - almost like a sixteen year old version of her. 

You really hope that isn’t true. You’re not ready to have a kid in two years. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Your grandparents are already sitting at a round table in the corner of the country club by the two tall windows that reach up to the ceiling with a view looking out into the golf course. The best seat in the house for the richest a holes on the island. 

“Lorelai,” Your grandmother grins, but you can instantly tell it’s sarcastic. “Did you have to walk here?”

You speak up before your mom could. “Sorry Grandma. It’s my fault we’re late.”

Your grandparents are hard on your mom but easier on you and Rory, especially Rory.

“Well, you’re here now,” Your grandpa says. He’s usually the mediator between your mom and grandma. Although he’s usually sucks at it. “Sit. Sit.”

Meanwhile, back in the kitchen, JJ shuffles through his many coworkers with his apron in one hand and a piece of fried calamari from Miss Carol’s appetizer in the other. 

“JJ -” She scolds and slaps his hand away from going in for a second piece. 

“Good evening Miss Carol,” JJ smirks and makes his way to the area between the kitchen and dining room where most of the servers and bust boys hang out. Some of the boys slap him on the back or shove him by the shoulder, chuckling to themselves. “What’s going on boys? Busy crowd?”

“What are you doing here? You never work Sundays,” His friend, Mitch, says. 

Luke Maybank was behind on several bills - worse than it’s ever been. They already shut off their electricity and JJ wanted to make sure the water wouldn’t be next. 

But JJ shrugs nonchalantly. “Little extra dough can't hurt.”

“Well, you picked a good day,” Raymond walks up to the blonde, rolling his sleeves. “You got Kook Royalty and their Hybrid offsprings in your section.” 

“What?” JJ looks through the small square Plexiglas on the swinging door. He knows exactly where to look and immediately sees you sitting with King and Queen Kook, looking absolutely miserable, pushing around your food with your fork. 

“Damn, Maybank. Almost broke your neck - you turned so fast.”

“Shut up, Easterling. I was just seeing how crowded we were,” JJ lied. He really just wanted to see if you were here. And now that he sees you are, he’s a little nervous to do his own damn job.

Raymond Easterling chuckles. “Yeah, I know what you were looking at. But don’t get your hopes up. There’s a reason Kooks call that girl the Heart Sucker. Not even the high and powerful JJ Maybank could get a piece of that.”

The guys around JJ and Raymond chuckle and nod in agreement, hearing the stories of how you’d reject every single guy that’s ever asked you out. Sometimes you’d go on a few dates, trying to push yourself out of your comfort zone, but then things would quickly become too much, and you’d get overwhelmed. 

JJ didn’t like the way Raymond talked about you or how the others laughed at your expense. His hands clenched into fists, tempted to throw a punch in Ray’s cocky face.  The guy’s just being a jerk because he’s one of the guys that got rejected by you, he thought. 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” JJ shakes his head and ties his apron around his waist to distract his hands.

“No?” Raymond challenges him. “You think I’m wrong? You think you could pull the infamous Hybrid over there?”

JJ glances back through the window. You’re looking at your grandma with a clearly forced grin. You’re twirling your hair between your fingers, a habit you picked up when you were little to do when you’re bored. JJ would find you doing that in school all the time. 

You’re gorgeous, he thought. It’s no wonder that almost every guy on this island has tried to make a pass on you, including JJ himself, but his remarks always come off as playful, afraid of actually telling you how he feels about you. His fantasies about you went further than just getting you between the sheets. He could picture getting married, having children, and growing old together. Years ago, the two of you would talk about your future. Neither one of you cared about money or fancy jobs. All you wanted was to be free - of this island, of each other’s families, of responsibilities placed on you from birth. You hold the same values as JJ, and he’s never met another person like you. 

But JJ has a hard exterior. No one other than his best friends know his true heart, and he wasn’t going to let someone like Raymond Easterling find out about his soft spot for you. He would never hear the end of it.

JJ looks at you one last time. You’re talking to Rory, your face in his direction. This time you’re smiling, probably discussing something other than your grandparent’s expectations of you. He’d kill to see that smile every single day.

What’s the worst that could happen? You reject him? Yeah, that might kill JJ inside, but maybe you’d still be his friend, or continue to be acquaintances like you are now. As long as he gets to see you, he’d be okay. There was always the future. But who knows? Maybe you’d say yes? He’ll never know unless he tries. Right?

JJ fakes the same cocky grin that Raymond wears. “I haven’t failed yet.”

The guys around him whistle and shake their heads with smiles. 

“All right, Maybank. Let’s make a bet. I’ll give you one hundred dollars to get Y/N Y/L/N in the sack by the fourth of July.”

JJ scoffs. “You like giving away free money?” He ignored his racing heart at the thought of being that intimate with you.

Raymond nods. “Okay. Let’s put your money where your mouth is. Get her to say ‘I love you’ by the end of the season and I’ll raise you an extra hundred and cover all your dishwasher shifts in September.”

JJ raises his brows with surprise. No one offers to take the dishwashing shift. Sometimes the boys are pulled back there when the kitchen is short staffed and it’s easily one of the worst jobs at the Club.

This bet was almost too good of an opportunity to pass up. “Deal.” JJ says.

The boys shake hands on it and the other guys whisper to each other about how intrigued they are to see this play out.

JJ wipes his sweaty palms against his apron and pushes the door open to approach your table, hoping he can hear you over his thudding heart. 

“Good evening folks. May I take those empty plates out of your way?”

You look up at the voice you know so well and a smile raises on your lips. JJ meets your eyes and he winks at you, splattering your heart in flutters. 

“Please.” Your grandmother pushes her plate away from her, stuffed with filet and red wine.

“JJ,” Your mom grins up at him. Growing up, your mom always had a soft spot for the blonde Pogue. She’s heard the stories about his father, mostly from Steve, who actually grew up with Luke Maybank, his cousin. As a child, he was sent to live with Luke Maybank and his single father. Lets just say, he’s not surprised by the way Luke turned out. “Look at you. You’re all grown up now. Last time I saw you, Y/N was still pushing your head in the sand for stealing her popsicle.”

“Yeah. I quickly learned no one should mess with Y/N and her food,” JJ says.

“Never stopped you though,” You smirk at him.

“Lorelai. Who is this?” Your grandma asks, disregarding the boy himself.

“Mom,” Lorelai gives her mom a warning look. “This is JJ Maybank. He went to school with Y/N and Rory.” Lorelai knew to play it safe with her wording. She didn’t know where you and JJ stood. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him and she knew better than to ask. 

“Nice to meet you,” JJ says politely. “I’d shake your hand but mine are kinda full.” He motions to the plates in his hand.

“That’s quite all right.” Your grandma’s smile is so forced, it makes you uncomfortable. 

“I won’t hold you up. Has your server been around with the dessert menu?” JJ looks at you. “We have chocolate cake tonight.”

Heat rushes up your neck. Not because of the cake itself but because JJ remembered your favorite dessert. Chocolate cake with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles. It was safe to save you were a choco-holic. The boys use to make it for you every year for your birthday. It usually came out burnt, none of them ever remembering how to properly make it. But it was all you needed to feel like a very special girl. 

“Your favorite,” Rory elbows you.

Your grandma cringes. “Sounds like diabetes on a plate.”

“Mom,” Lorelai scolds. 

“What?” She asks, not understanding the concept of a filter.

Now heat rushes to your cheeks for an entire different reason. “He did. We’re not doing dessert tonight. Thank you, though.”

JJ nods but feels disappointed by the way your face flinched at your grandmother’s comment. 

“My pleasure,” He says like he was taught to do and excuses himself to drop the plates off in the back before he can say anything else that would probably get him fired.

Your mom looks at your with raised brows. “He’s cute, honey.”

“Lorelai, please. He’s the busboy,” Your grandma says.

“He’s a good kid, Mom.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” You stand up. “I have to use the restroom.”

Rory gives you a knowing grin as you walk away from the table. When you walk into the hallway between the dining area and the front lobby, you immediately feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. Sometimes just the presence of your grandparents and their pompous judgements can be suffocating. You do your best to bite your tongue around them, excusing yourself when you feel yourself getting heated. 

JJ catches a glimpse of your light blue dress out of the corner of his eye when he rounds the corner to collect the plates off a different table. He looks over his shoulder at Raymond, who’s staring at the blonde watching you, and winks.

“Hey, Y/N,” JJ says, walking up to you.

You look up from your phone and immediately smile. “Hey. I was actually hoping I’d catch you out here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You nervously tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry about my grandmother. She can be...”

JJ shakes his head. “Hey. It’s okay. I work for Kooks almost every single day. I’m use to it.”

You sigh. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control,” JJ says. “Besides, that’s probably the nicest she’s ever been to me.”

You hide your face in your hands. “Stop. You’re making it worse.”

JJ laughs and takes your wrists in his hands, slowly pulling them away from your face. Your eyes shoot up to his, immediately feeling a tingling feeling run through your skin, straight to your heart. 

“It’s okay. I promise,” He says softly. His voice is so sincere that you have no other option but to believe him. It almost makes your feel guiltier, wondering how much bullshit he’s been through with ungrateful Kooks that it’s so easy for him to forgive and forget.

“Okay,” Your voice is a whisper, taken off guard by how close he is to you and how he still hasn't let go of your hands. 

In that same moment, JJ realizes he’s still holding you and gently removes his hands. He coughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his neck, where sweat begins to bubble. Why is he so nervous?

“So um...” You say, suddenly feeling nervous too. “You going to John B’s tonight?”

JJ’s eyes shoot up in surprise. How did you know that? “Yeah. I’m heading over there after work.”

“I saw him and Pope at Heywards earlier today and they invited me over. I wasn’t sure if I should come or not.”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Because it’s different now, you wanted to say. But you didn’t because you feel like the elephant in the room would only grow. And you didn’t want to admit you were nervous to meet Kie and Sarah outside of school. 

You shrug. “I don’t know.”

“You should definitely come. The boys miss you.”

You pretend like a little piece of your heart didn’t just break when JJ didn’t say ‘we.’ 

“What time do you get off of work?”

“Around 9ish.”

You nod. “I can pick you up if you’d like and we could go together?”

Your heart races after you suggest it. What if he says no? Why were you feeling this way? This is the same kid you use to make fun of for pouring milk into his bowl before his cereal. 

“Yeah. That’d be perfect.”

“Great!” Your phone pings with a text from Rory, telling you that your grandparents are wondering where you are. “Shit. I have to get back. I’ll see you at nine?”

“See you then,” JJ nods and turns back to the kitchen. When his eyes meet Raymond’s, he’s reminded of what he agreed to. Almost surprised how quickly he forgot about it. You were able to take his mind off of anything without even trying. He clears his throat to get rid of the giddy grin he was wearing after talking to you, wanting to look tough and casual in front of his coworker. “Easy.” He says to him. But that felt anything but easy. He could vomit with nerves.

“There’s still plenty of time for you to screw up, Maybank.”

JJ huffs. He’s not wrong. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

You drive up to the front of the country club and park in front of the main entrance. It’s 8:57. You’re early and will look eager. So you wait until 9:06 to text him that you’re here.

You changed into a pair of dark washed denim shorts, a yellow cropped tube top, a grey flannel, and navy converse. You changed your outfit about four times before deciding on your first one, not wanting to look too casual or too dressed up. 

For the last three years, you wondered when the four of you would get back together as a group. You wondered if it would ever happen. And now that two Kooks are involved, you feel more nervous than excited.

You jump when the passenger seat door opens, lost in the depth of your own head. JJ smiles, not seeing your reaction.”Cool ride,” he says and looks around the interior. 

“Thanks,” you say, pulling out into the road.

“I got you something,” JJ says.

You glance at him with furrowed brows. What could he have possibly gotten you since you saw him last? A book mark from the Country Club’s gift shop?

JJ reaches into his backpack and pulls out a plate with clear wrap around it. Your mouth drops when you see the chocolate cake on a plate in his hands, the smell immediately hitting your nose with pure delight.

“You saved me a piece?” You jump in your seat excitedly.

“Had to hide it good too or else Miss Carol would have had my ass handed to me,” JJ jokes and even pulls out two forks. He undoes the wrapping and cuts off a piece. He waits until you hit a stop sign and says, “Open up.”

You look at him and immediately open your mouth. He gently places the fork between your lips and you take the piece of cake off with your teeth. Like a baby.

Your eyes close with pure pleasure. “Oh my god. That’s amazing.”

“Miss Carol does know how to bake a mean cake,” JJ says and takes a bite of his own.

“Another one,” You say, glancing at the cake again. Like you said, choco-holic. “Please.” You say when JJ teases you by holding the fork away from you.

JJ laughs. “I like hearing you beg.”

You slap him in the arm with the back of your hand. “In your dreams, Maybank.”

“You got that right, Y/L/N.”

The two of you finish the cake with only a few bites each. Small but rich in chocolate that leaves you craving more. You were gonna have to meet this Miss Carol woman. 

After he puts the plate back in his bag, JJ reaches for the aux cord, but you quickly slap his hand away. “Hey. What do you think you’re doing?”

“You’re seriously gonna make me listen to this the entire way to John B’s?”

You scoff. “I’ll have you know Blink-182 is one of my favorite bands.”

“It’s also soccer moms’ favorite band,” JJ laughs at you.

You turn up the volume, blasting ‘All the Small Things’ and point to your ear. “Sorry. Can’t hear you!”

JJ rolls his eyes but laughs along with you, even bopping his head to the beat. You drive with the windows down, dancing and singing along to a bunch of throwback songs with JJ as if the two of you have been doing this forever. 

You pull up to John B’s and park behind his dad’s old van, better known as The Twinkie. When you turn down the music, JJ looks at you with a shake in his head. “Next time, I’m driving.”

“What was wrong with my driving?”

“We’re in the Outer Banks, Sparky, not NASCAR.”

You scoff and follow behind JJ who’s leading the way up John B’s driveway. As you get closer, you smell the smoky scent of a bonfire nearby and eventually hear John B’s laugh mixed in with a female’s. Your smile falters as nerves gather in the pit of your stomach. 

“What’s wrong?” JJ asks.

“Nothing,” You say, but JJ easily catches your lie and gives you a knowing look. “What if they don’t like me?”

“Who? Pope and John B? I’m pretty sure they like you more than me even after three years -”

“Not them, you idiot,” You shove him playfully by the shoulder as you two let yourselves inside. “Sarah and Kie.”

“Don’t you go to school with them?”

“Yeah, but we don’t talk,” You say quietly, not wanting them to hear you.

“Hm.”

“What?” JJ shrugs. “Nothing. I just didn’t think you cared about what other people thought.”

“I don’t,” You say quickly. “But they're your best friends. It’s different.”

“You don’t need their approval. You technically were here first.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been replaced,” You try to say it as a joke and even throw a smirk in there. 

But JJ stops in his track and looks at you seriously. “No one can replace you. Not even if they tried.”

You open your mouth to respond, but you’re at a loss for words. It’s not a common occurrence that JJ gets all serious on you. Warmth covers you like a blanket and the longer he holds your stare, the weaker your knees become. 

“JJ! Is that you?” John B calls out from the backyard.

“Yeah,” JJ yells back. He opens the fridge in John B’s kitchen. “Want a beer?” He offers to you.

You shake your head. “No thanks.”

For the first time, you take in John B’s home. It looks the same as it did three years ago, only a lot messier. The pull out couch looks like its been used recently with blankets and sheets tossed about on it. Empty beer cans and cigarette butts are thrown messily on the coffee tables and the air smells faintly of old marijuana. 

JJ leads you out to the back where four people are gathered around a fire. Three out of the four immediately smile when the two of you approach them, but Kie’s eyes narrow and her head tilts with confusion.

Shit, you think. 

“You came!” Pope laughs and hops up from his beach chair and embraces you in a hug.

You laugh, not expecting the embrace, but welcoming it all the same. John B’s next, giving you a quick hug and shaking his head.

“I gotta say, I didn’t think you were going to come,” John B says.

“You can thank me for that later,” JJ says jokingly.

“Actually when I heard JJ was coming, I almost changed my mind and stayed home,” You joke and smirk JJ’s way.

“Just like old times,” Pope says, looking between you and the blonde. The banter felt like the yall never separated in the first place. 

“Hey, you know Sarah and Kie, right?” John B points to the girls. Sarah stands up to say hi, and eventually Kie follows her, not wanting to look rude, but stays off to the side, keeping her distance.

“Yeah,” You wave awkwardly. 

“Hey!” Sarah says sweetly. “I didn’t realize you guys use to all hang out.”

“Y/N grew up down the street,” JJ explains and sips at his beer. 

“You want a drink or something?” Pope asks you, not knowing JJ already did.

“No thank you,” You say again.

“You don’t drink?” Kie asks. It was the first thing she’s said to you.

“Not usually,” You say and hold her stare. You try to get a read on her, but she’s had to get a tell on. You can’t tell if she just doesn’t like you or just doesn’t know you. Either way, it makes you uneasy. 

“Here, I’ll go grab you a chair,” Pope says and walks to the side of the house to grab another beat up beach chair. 

As the night goes on, you feel the tension in your shoulders loosen and your body feel lighter. Most of the night was spent retelling childhood stories the four of you shared. Sarah would laugh at most of them, occasionally rolling her eyes at her boyfriend from the stupid shit he would do, although it sounds like he’s no different to you now. 

You talked about the time you and JJ stole a golf cart for a joy ride on Figure Eight, or when you and John B pranked Pope by putting a dead fish in his locker, or how you and John B learned how to play guitar from youtube tutorials. 

Midnight came around quickly and exhaustion was slowly taking over your body. It’s been a long day between the cafe flooding, dinner with your grandparents, and now this. 

JJ was the first to notice you slowly fading. 

“You okay?” He asks you quietly as everyone else is caught up in conversation. 

“Yeah,” You say, lazily grinning at him. 

“We can leave if you want,” He says.

“You’re not staying?” You ask. It sounded like everyone was planning to spend the night here. And as much as you wanted to, you just didn’t feel comfortable enough yet. 

JJ shrugs. “My dad’s out of town tonight. It’ll be nice to have the house to myself.” Before you can say anything, he stands and brushes his hands against his pants. “All right, losers. We’re out of here.”

“Aw, you’re leaving?” Sarah pouts.

“Yeah, I’m beat and Y/N’s my ride home,” JJ says.

You were glad he didn’t call you out for being tired. You didn’t want to look lame in front of everybody, especially Kie.

“Thanks for having me,” You say to everyone. It might have been John B’s house, but it was everyone’s night you intruded on.

John B stands up to hug you. “Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

You nod. “I won’t. I promise.”

Pope hugs you next. “Text me when you get back safe.”

“I will.”

“Bye!” Sarah waves and Kie exhales a ring of smoke from her blunt.

You wave at them before following JJ back to your car. 

“Nuh-uh-uh,” JJ says. You didn’t realize you both walked to the driver’s side.

“What? No.”

JJ nods and holds his hands out for your keys. “I’m not dying tonight.” 

“You’ve been drinking and smoking all night,” You say. You didn’t think JJ was drunk or even that high, but you were not going to let a teenager with an ounce of alcohol in his system get behind the wheel. “Next time. For now, hold on to the cupholder.”

JJ sighs dramatically and goes to the other side of the car and hops in the passenger seat. 

This time you keep the music quiet, listening to the hum of the radio instead of your phone. 

“Take a left,” JJ says.

“JJ, I know where you live. And it’s not left.”

“Don’t you trust me?” 

You snicker. “Not in the slightest.”

JJ rolls his eyes. “Just take the left.”

You hold your hands up in surrender and take the left turn. He directs you for a couple more miles until he has you park in front of a 24 hour diner. 

“What are we doing here?” You ask.

“I’m in the mood for a milkshake.”

“We just had cake!” You say.

“Come on, Sparky. Show me what that mouth can do,” JJ smirks. 

You go to hit him again but he takes off running to the front entrance and pulls the door open. You chase after him, almost running into his back at the front host stand where JJ safely smirks at you in triumph.

“Two please,” He says to the hostess. 

The old cranky woman leads you to a booth off to the side next to a window without a word. 

A couple minutes later, a waitress walks by and asks if you’re ready to order. 

“Yes. One chocolate milkshake and one black and white milkshake,” JJ orders for both of you, already knowing what flavor you’d want.

“And fries, please.” You say. The waitress nods, takes your menus, and walks off. JJ raises his brow at the extra order. “What?” You shrug. “Just showing you what my mouth can do.”

JJ scoffs. “What a tease.” 

You playfully kick his shin under the table.

“Did you have fun tonight?” JJ asks.

“Yeah,” You answer. “Felt like old times. The girls are nice too.”

You were about to only mention Sarah, but you didn’t want to cause any issues with Kie. Not yet at least. Maybe she just needed time to warm up to you.

“See? I told you they wouldn’t bite.”

A couple minutes later, the waitress comes back with your milkshakes and fries. 

“How’s John B doing? You know, with the whole Big John thing?” You ask delicately, unsure of how JJ would react to you pestering about John B’s business. “I didn’t want to ask and bring the mood down,” You explain yourself although you don’t need to.

JJ shrugs. “He’s in denial I think. Won’t sign a death certificate until he sees a body. He could be worse, though.”

“Yeah,” You say softly. You don’t know what you would do if you were in that situation. In a way you felt lucky that you never knew your dad at all. It would be harder to lose him, knowing who he was.

You take a fry and dip it into your milkshake before taking a bite. This makes JJ freeze and look at you like you have two heads. 

“What?” You say with your mouth full.

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” You say and give him a look to do it.

JJ reluctantly picks up the fry and dunks it into his milkshake. He looks at the fry questioningly before popping it into his mouth. Somehow the sweetness of the milkshake and the saltiness of the french fry complement each other beautifully and his widen in pleasant surprise. 

“Oh wow,” JJ says.

“Told you,” You smirk.

You spend the next hour catching up, trying to fit the last three years into an hour. JJ does most of the talking because you want to know more about what John B, Pope, and JJ have been up to. Your life was so boring and depressing, you didn’t want to bore JJ with the details.

You drive JJ home and talk for a few minutes more when you park. He seems to be procrastinating getting out of the car, but you don’t mind. You could talk to him all night, suddenly not feeling tired anymore.

“All right. I’ll let you get home before the sun rises,” He says and opens the door. He pauses when his feet hit the ground and he looks back at you. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“I have to work at the shop, why?”

“Well, there’s a storm coming in. John B and I might go out to surf the surge before it hits. You still surf?”

You scoff. “Do I still surf?”

JJ holds his hands up in surrender. “Just checking. You think you can handle the surge?”

“Let’s not forget who the better surfer is, JJ.”

“I didn’t. It’s still me.”

“You wish.”

“So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Now you have a point to prove. You have to show JJ that you’re still the better surfer. 

“I'll see you tomorrow,” You agree. 

“Great, it’s a date.” He winks and shuts the door before you can tell him otherwise. 

You giggle to yourself as JJ walks up the front yard and stay there until he you see he gets in safely. 

You pull out of the driveway, wishing he had asked you out on a real date. One that didn’t involve John B.

Tag list: @super-funky-bisexual​ @sunsetswithjj​ @moniamaybank​ @throwawayfish​ @poguestyle17​ @5am-cigarette​ @jjpouggues​ @fly-away-from-here​ @buckys2thicc​

[itskatastrophe-x]

Far Off Places (CH 2)

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3

Word Count : 3,022

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

It took a few hours to wake up, but when you did, you sat up in a cold sweat, sharp pains shooting through your ribs, legs, and back. Almost three days of walking and running had taken a huge toll on your body. You scrunched your face in pain and shot a hand to your chest, noticing bandages around your arm and hand. That’s when you were very aware of your surroundings and two other figures in your peripheral. You looked at them in shock, their faces mirroring your same expression. You remembered the one with the wings just as you fell to the ground, but this second person you hadn’t seen. How many people were here, you wondered.

You tried to speak but your throat was raw and all that came out were raspy whispers and coughs. The one with wings looked at the taller one and motioned to a doorway. The taller one nodded and walked away swiftly, coming back seconds later with a bottle of water and another one full of a sparkling pink liquid. He handed you both of them and advised to drink the pink one first and wash it down with the water, explaining it was a health potion. You obliged and gulped it as fast as you could, almost gagging from the taste, and quickly chugged and swished the water after, feeling the effects almost instantly. You thanked them both and handed the bottles back to the boy and he took them back through the doorway, leaving you and the winged man alone. You fiddled with the bandages on your arms for a moment and cleared your throat a couple times before finally speaking.

“Where am I? Who are you? Thank you for the help.” The man lightly chuckled and took off his hat, his hair falling to frame his face. “My name is Philza, but you can call me Phil. The other one is Ranboo, he’s our friend that lives over by the mountain.” His voice had a very thick accent, unlike the boy, Ranboo. You nodded and he continued. “You’re outside of the Dream SMP. I live with Ranboo here with Technoblade. He goes by Techno. He’s currently asleep and we’re not sure when he’ll wake up. You’ve seen our dogs,” he chuckles out, drawing a smile onto your face. You scratch the back of your neck and heat makes its way to your face. “I’m sorry if I woke you. Your dogs made quite the ruckus.” He smiles fondly at you and waves you off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. We’re normally up around that time anyway. Days have been pretty restless lately, what with all the wars and such going on.”

He notices the worry on your face and goes on. “We tend to stay out of things. We’ve been involved too many times and we all like to keep things peaceful. These cabins are essentially a safe place. No one really knows where we live and we’d like to keep it that way. You aren’t here as a spy are you?” You shake your head and look down at your hands, bruises and cuts litter your body, but are slowly fading thanks to the potion from earlier. “No, I uh…” You clear your throat and steel yourself to speak more. “I… I travelled for three days to get here. My homeland was destroyed and I have nowhere to go.”

You look up at the man, the younger boy now standing next to him, staring at you in wonder and concern, the same concern seen in Phil’s eyes. “I’m still not sure how much I can trust anyone so I won’t say much more, but I lost my home and everyone I know. I’ve come a long way and I need somewhere safe. The person that murdered and burned my home could still be out there, and I need help. I know we’re strangers but I hope to trust you two more. You seem like nice people and, if you’re willing, I’d like to find some help some day to go back and figure out what happened.”

They both stare at you for a while until Phil smiles politely and nods. “Of course! Do you have a name you’d like us to call you?” You think for a minute, not being able to come up with a name to go by so as to keep your real name hidden. Ranboo speaks up a minute later. “We could call you Faer, if that’s ok. As a name it means Traveler.” You smile brightly at the small  name and nod. “I guess that fits, seeing as I am technically a traveler now. I didn’t do much of that back home, so sure, let’s go with that.” They both nod in unison. “Faer,” you say to yourself. A fitting name, short and sweet and it rolled off the tongue nicely. Maybe one day when you knew you could trust them you’d tell them your real name, but for now that nickname would do.

They gave you some supplies, a bed, and some armor and better clothes after you got some rest and pointed you to a good spot to set up your own little home. They also gave you a map of the surrounding areas and gave you a rundown of some of the people that lived in the main cities, but there were so many that you forgot half of them. Ranboo followed you out to pick a spot to settle down, idly chatting about how life was in the area, who to stay away from, where all the farms were, and just general stuff to pass the time. Eventually you ran out of wood so you both ventured into the woods to chop some more.

After a couple hours, your small abode was looking good. It wasn’t anything fancy or as big as Techno or Phil’s houses, but it did the job. All you had to do yet was finish putting walls up inside, decorating, and making it pretty outside. You added some fences to give yourself a front yard, placed torches to liven up the place, and also made a small deck out front facing the aforementioned houses. It took a couple more hours of work to get the inside done, but everything was done around sunset and you were ready to pass out. Phil came over close to the end and said Techno was awake and they would be over soon to welcome you in. You were grateful to have such a warm welcome, but you were still on edge. How well could you trust these people? Sure, they gave you plenty of things and were friendly, but it felt like they were hiding something or were keeping information away from you. The way they would shirk off certain questions or avoid subjects completely was weird. You assumed it was because they didn’t trust you either, so you shrugged it off. You were a stranger to them. A person that ended up passing out on their land, giving them no info on who you were or where you came from. You were lucky you ended up here, though. Hearing some of the stories Ranboo told you made you glad this was the closest on your journey.

Ranboo returned, after leaving to clean himself up, with some flowers, a diamond sword, and a couple emeralds to get you started. After chatting with him for a couple minutes you heard a knock on your front door, signaling the return of Phil. You hopped off of your seat and opened the door to greet him. He had a couple dishes of various kinds of foods piled into his arms, so you gladly took some from him. What you were not prepared for was Techno. You didn’t know what to expect, as Phil had given no description, but the tall half pig, half human standing behind the winged man with a disgruntled look on his face, flowing red cape, and glinting golden crown was absolutely something you weren’t expecting. I mean, you weren’t one to judge, you just had no clue what to expect. Phil walked past you and asked Ranboo for help setting everything up, leaving you with the large man. He gave you a huff and walked past you, cape gently hitting you in the shins as the wind from him walking pushed it out behind him. You stood there, slightly in shock with the door open, as he made himself at home in your new living room. You closed the door and turned around to see him with his head hanging off the back of the couch, eyes closed and arms crossed. He did just wake up, maybe he’s still tired.

The night was going well in your eyes. You and Ranboo were getting along well and you could see why he was saying Phil was very much like a powerful father figure. Techno joined in on some conversations occasionally when he thought he had something to say. You asked him some simple questions but he refused to answer anything. You chalked it up to him not trusting you at all so you let it slide and shrugged it off. Phil had nudged him or elbowed him a few times if he thought he was getting out of line, but you waved it off saying you weren’t bothered. Honestly you weren’t bothered. You had heard worse in your courts back at home, so little phased you at this point. Thinking about your home had apparently made you zone out, because you were brought back to real life when you heard your new name being called. Ranboo had shook your shoulder lightly, concern etched onto his and Phil’s faces, amusement and curiosity finally glinting in Techno’s eyes. You laughed lightly and put a hand to your face, feeling wetness on your cheeks. When had you started crying?

“Faer, are you ok? What’s wrong?” Ranboo’s hand retracted and he stared at you with intense focus, very clearly concerned. You looked down at your empty plate, long forgotten from the hours before during your conversations. You contemplated telling them the truth, second guessed yourself, then shook your head and covered your face with both hands, letting out a short sigh. You knew you would have to tell them eventually, and you supposed now was as good a time as any. You started off at your lineage, being born into a royal family, being sheltered since you were young, your training and lessons. Everything shortened into smaller stories to keep things simplified. Everything leading up to your parents inevitable deaths and you becoming the ruler of a whole kingdom.

Techno had perked at the words “royal family”, finally becoming invested in something and listening closely, asking questions every once in a while. Ranboo and Phil sat in shock as Techno had basically taken over the conversation, you pouring out details as he asked. You weren’t sure why exactly you were letting him get so much out of you, but all of them seemed to relax the more you talked about your past, until finally you reached the downfall of your oversized city. Ranboo had gotten more invested in this, and seemed to want to figure out how it happened as well. He said he was a fan of theories and small details that seemed to be hidden, so he agreed to helping you find the arsonist.

They asked for coordinates so you got up, grabbed all the plates to take them to the kitchen, found your journal, and brought it back to where everyone was sitting. Ranboo’s eyes lit up as he watched you flip through the pages and you caught onto his gaze and smiled. He opened his own bag and brought out a journal silently, smiling the whole time, mentioning how he kept his own journals. You made a mental note to try to ask about them at another point as he put his away. You finally flipped to the page holding info about your kingdom and pulled out a map from between the pages as well, flipping them to face Techno and Phil. They looked over everything and you watched intently as they pointed and flipped, exchanging words every few seconds.

“We can just make a portal,” Techno finally grunts out. “Most of our locations we stay in have portals to each and highways connecting to the main portal by the community house. The only thing we would worry about is having you out and about. Some of the people here… Aren’t so trustworthy.” You think back to your conversation with Ranboo and nod. “Yeah, Ranboo said something about an Egg? What’s that all about?” They all go quiet and you feel like you’ve asked the wrong question. “I’m assuming it’s nothing good, so I won’t press anymore, but if it’s unavoidable then you’ll have to tell me eventually.” Phil speaks up from his side of the table. “Well, all we should tell you now is to not touch the vines, and if you hear anything to let us know right away. Don’t trust any bad thoughts.” You were taken back by that but hesitantly croaked out an ‘ok’ and left it there.

You all spent the last hour together coming up with a plan to get you to your kingdom, what you could look for, and who else you might be able to trust. The date was decided to be set for a week from the present day and you would find two more people, Karl and Sapnap. Ranboo said you would get along well with them and they were people they knew could help that had a lot of knowledge. Karl was a master at problem solving and a time traveler (though he still didn’t know exactly how to control it and only used it when he had to), and Sapnap was born in fire so he knew it well, meaning he might be able to know something from the wreckage. After everything was said and done, you were waving goodbye as they all crossed the snow covered field to their separate homes.

You shut the door and sighed, leaning your back against the solid wood plank, your head also falling back to rest on it, eyes closing as you listened to your breathing and heartbeat. The gentle crackling from the fireplace and torches calmed your nerves more as you pushed off the door and made your way to the kitchen to extinguish some of the lights. After cleaning up and tidying everything, you looked over the living room once more and smiled to yourself, finding your way up the stairs and into your bathroom to wash off and get ready to sleep.

All this alone time gave you time to think about the plans, and the more you thought, the more you doubted this person named Sapnap. You were told he had some kind of fire ability, and seeing as most of your kingdom was set on fire, you didn’t think he was very trustworthy. No matter how far away this place was, he was still suspicious to you. I mean, what were you supposed to think when you got to a random location and on the first day upon arrival you were told that there was someone here with a fire ability? Were you just supposed to trust this stranger immediately, just like that? You didn’t like that thought at all, but you trusted Ranboo and Phil enough already that you figured you should give this Sapnap guy a chance.

And with those last few thoughts, you finished settling in to sleep, finally in a proper bed after three long days. The thick blanket and the flickering light of the last embers in the hearth helped you to drift off to sleep. You made a mental note to write in your journal when you wake up, since you were exhausted and could barely keep your eyes open.

Hot. Burning. Loud crashing. Your eyes snapped open and you were finally aware of your surroundings. Your kingdom around you, burning to the ground, craters dotted the ground. You were surrounded by fire. You screamed out in pain and searched for a safe way out. Why was this happening? No. You knew the answer, you just had to remember. Right? Right! Dreams. You could solve things using your dreams, being thrown back into the middle of situations to see what went wrong. To look over missed details. The only downside was the fact that all your senses still worked. It was like time travelling but without all the paradoxical consequences. Essentially just to play detective.

You ran through the blaze, trying to find a safe path while also looking for clues. There was nothing but destruction, burnt remains, and the smell of burning wood. You finally made it to a clearing where the plaza in front of the castle was, and there in the distance between all the red flames and black smoke, there was a flash of color. It was fast, so you almost missed it, but it was there. Who was that? With that thought alone, you were sprinting in the same direction, not caring about the flames that would kiss your skin or the ember covered logs that would catch your legs. You needed this lead, no matter what kind of pain you went through.

You spent what felt like hours running around. Your legs felt like they were being torn apart, your skin was burning and blistered in a lot of spots, and it was getting too hard to breathe. There was no sign of the green that you saw earlier, so you gave into your body and fell to the brick walkway under you, the rough texture stinging your skin. You closed your eyes, breathing heavily, hoping you would wake up soon. Then you heard it. The sound of feet on the pavement ahead of where you laid. Your body hurt as you lifted your head, vision going fuzzy and dark as the person neared. Green.

[writing-blog-iguess]

Warm Company

Summary: after the fight with Overhaul and his people, you’ve been dealing with nightmares. Luckily, a certain someone is there to help you threw the night.

A/N: I wrote this (on and off) for @breadgenie892 a couple of months ago. And I’m only getting around to posting it now because it’s finally finished. I hope I did Tamaki justice

Also, this could be a part two to this, or a stand alone fic.

Warning: fluff, talks of death (vaguely)

---

It's been a couple of weeks since the joint team mission of saving a little girl from Overhaul. Your heart broke during the meeting, and when the day finally came, you were nervous but ready to fight.

The mission itself went off with no problem, but it was the aftermath that worried you. You had nightmares after your fight. Even had nightmares about Eri never leaving Overhaul.

The nightmares were getting better though, but they still came. When they do come, you usually send an hour or two in the kitchen drinking something warm. Sometimes they were spent alone, sometimes someone from your class would sit with you. Usually it was someone from the big three. But mostly it was Tamaki who would be there for you.

You liked those nights the best. You didn’t have a need to fill the silence, just sitting there was enough for the both of you.

Tonight happened to be one of those nights, a night filled with nightmares.

After waking up from a particularly bad one, you wiped the sweat off your face and rolled out the bed. There was only one thing that could make you feel a little better, and you were looking forward to it.

You exchanged your sweaty clothes for dry ones, and you made your way towards the kitchen.

Too lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice a figure sitting by the counter. And you still didn’t notice as you were making your favourite warm drink.

It wasn’t until you turned around that you noticed Amajiki sitting by the counter. You yelped, almost dropping your cup. “Amajiki!” you whispered-yelled.

“S-sorry,” Amajiki apologized, looking down at the table. “I didn't mean to scare you.”

You smiled softly and sat beside him. “It's okay. I wasn’t paying much attention. I'm sorry for intruding.”

Amajiki nodded and silence fell over the two of you. “Bad dream again?” amajiki asked, already knowing the answer.

You hummed, wrapping your hands around the cup, sighing in relief as the warmth helped you relax. “Yeah. I wish they stopped.”

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked. You were silent for a moment, debating whether or not you wanted to. But you knew you always felt better once you talked it through. It also helped that your friend knew about your nightmares.

“It was worse than the others,” you answered after a beat, “we didn’t get her in time. And they left, leaving bodies in their wake.”

Amajiki didn’t have to ask who you were talking about, he knew who you were talking about.

“Everyone there was gone and no one woke up,” you choked out, “and I couldn't do anything but watch.” It was then you started crying. Amajiki passed the tissue box, which you took.

“But she’s safe,” Amajiki butted in before you could start spiraling. “She’s safe and sound with Aizawa-sensei. And you helped with that. I know it’s hard with the nightmares but you're amazing at what you do and I know you’re going to be a great hero.”

You smiled at that and rested your head on his shoulder. He tensed at the sudden contact but soon relaxed because this was you and he didn’t mind. “Thank you Amajiki. That means a lot.”

Amajiki smiled softly and rested his head on yours. “Anytime.”

The two of you stayed in the kitchen like that until the sun peeked through the clouds. And if the both of you fell asleep at the kitchen counter, week that was your secret to keep.

[azure-bliss]

shinran oneshot

Fandom: DC

Pairing: Shinran

Excerpt: 

“Shinichi,” she whispered, warm blue orbs losing focus as she looked at him, though her smile remained. She rose her hand to caress his cheek (she’s so, so cold). “You found us.”

Her chapped lips met his, and then, “Arigato.”

A/N: I swear that this was supposed to be fluffy but brain said nope, angst-infused it is. Also, I’m no expert in medicine nor the Japanese police system, even criminology for that matter. Spare me. Enjoy!

Day 9

“I should write a book.”

Shinichi’s first instinct was to snort, as he was reminded of Kogoro-ojisan’s—who he should really be calling otousan nowadays—intention of becoming a mystery novelist, much like his actual father. Kudo Yusaku had made millions writing his thrillers, and today, years after the older Kudo patriarch decided to publish his final novel, he was still adding money to the Kudo fortune.

Perhaps his mother playing the titular character in one of Night Baron’s spinoff adaptations, Lady Baron, played a huge factor too. His parents were weird that way, almost like a tag-team, because the moment Kudo Yusaku announced his writing retirement, Kudo Yukiko came out of hers.

It was as if they thought that the world could not handle more than three (he was pretty sure his popularity was on par with his parents, despite his lack of big screen appearances) famous Kudos at a time.

“Finally jumping on the full Kudo experience?” he teased, adjusting himself on the hospital bed where his wife sat, left arm wrapped around her whole frame, right palm covering hers.

Eyes focused on the little bundle in her arms, she hummed before answering, “A best-seller for sure.”

As if on cue, their newborn squirmed before revealing twin orbs that matched his mother’s, unfocused eyes looking up to the woman who went through hell and back prior to his birth.

“Anata,” she called, her tired voice laced with a hint of excitement. “He’s beautiful.”

 Day 1

He stood in an abandoned room of an equally abandoned motel located just 50 km on the outskirts of Tokyo, the very location that had him and nearly the whole Tokyo Metropolitan Police Taskforce wrecking their brains and exhausting their resources to find. The identified suspect was one Seisaku Miyazaki, a serial rapist and killer with a tendency for flairs. The 27 crime scenes he left always had distinct blood splatter to them, resulting from either gunshot wounds straight to the temple, or intraoral ones.

Shinichi had never seen a crime scene so gruesome in his life.

As soon as Shinichi stepped into the room, the first thing he should have registered was the blood-spattered left wall and Seisaku’s limp and lifeless body on a chair in the same left corner, his riffle trapped in between his legs.

Instead, Shinichi’s frantic eyes zeroed on the figure on the bed in the middle of the room, merely 10 feet away from Seisaku’s body. The woman had her back against the headboard with an ungodly amount of blood running down her bottom half, arms cocooning a small bundle wrapped with a violet-colored cardigan—the same one she was last saw wearing before her disappearance.

She had her eyes on her baby, as if the newborn was the only person who mattered, seemingly unbothered by the chaos unfolding before her. It took the lead detective a full five seconds to notice that the newborn—oh God, their newborn—was not crying.

He was beside her in her flash, holding her tighter than he should. His wife was again, unbothered, but he noticed that she closed their baby more to her semi-naked chest. The cuts and bruises on her face and torso did not go unnoticed by him. All of Seisaku’s victims had the same markings, but unlike those women who bled from their heads, she was bleeding from bottom down.

Kudo Shinichi screamed for the medic.

It was only then did he hear a soft cry, and he released a breath he did not know he was holding.

“Anata,” she called, finally removing her gaze from their son to look at him “He’s beautiful.”

Her face was pale and hollow, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her eyes and the gentleness of her smile.

His heart both bloomed and broke for her.

“Ran,” he choked out the name he’d been desperately calling for the past few hours. “You’re going to be okay.”

When the medic team finally appeared, his wife first handed the closest medic the baby, “Take care of him, onegai,” she requested, sounding too much like a plea. “He’s a good boy.”

Releasing her son’s warmth, the brunette fell back onto her husband, who caught her naked shoulders, throwing her full weight onto his.

“Shinichi,” she whispered, warm blue orbs losing focus as she looked at him, though her smile remained. She rose her hand to caress his cheek (she’s so, so cold). “You found us.”

Her chapped lips meet his, and then, “Arigato.”

With a sigh of relief, she shut her eyes, and rolled limp further into her husband’s embrace.

Shinichi’s world stood still, the only things registering in his mind were his wife’s cold body, and their newborn’s loud cries in the distant.

 Day 8

She was in pure fight mode, forcing her body to function and conscious to stay awake. Once she knew that her child was safe, all the injuries and agony finally caught up to her, and she welcomed the numbing darkness.

The last thing Ran remembered was Shinichi’s rapid heartbeat drumming her ears.

The new mother woke up a week later, on an unfamiliar bed, to the familiar but tormented eyes of her husband.

“Baby,” she mustered breathily, and her husband’s eyes all but softened.

She knew that they were safe.

   Day 10

It was another two whole days before she was deemed fit enough to hold her newborn.

“Anata,” she beams, “He’s beautiful.”

“He is,” the Heisei-Reiwa Holmes agreed. “The brat gave the doctors and nurses a fright with his fever, would not stop crying too.”

If his wife was worried, she did not show it. “Is that true?” she cooed, “But you’re okay now, aren’t you sweetheart? Your Papa found us after all.”

Day 0

Kudo Ran did not fit Seisaku Miyazaki’s victim profiles by the slightest. The females he preyed on were usually late teens to early twenties, lived alone, physically petite, and had questionable practices in their private lives.

Or, in the words of Seisaku himself, whores.

Catching the serial killer had been the detective’s top priority, with the death count at 27 and the most recent killings at the heart of Tokyo, it was one of the most challenging cases for him to date.

With half of the murders in Tokyo and the other half in Osaka, it was a no brainer for both Detective of the East and West to join hands, special taskforces from Tokyo and Osaka rallying under their (unofficial) command. The investigation had been ongoing for more than four months before special unit finally made a definite progress, being able to identify a potential victim, shadowing her day and night, coming in to save her just in time from being abducted, and arresting Seisaku’s paid minion.

Genzo Okubo was no Seisaku, the two detectives figured. The latter was confident, methodical, a true psychopathic mastermind, yet the man they caught fumbled with his words, sweated profusely, and most importantly, had little loyalty as he quickly confessed to everything.

The unit rejoiced, but Shinichi and Heiji knew that it was too simple, as if Seisaku wanted Gento to be caught.

By the time they were finished with the guy, it was already 2 a.m.

The lack of miscalls from him wife caught him off guard.

He tried not to panic, reasoning to himself that Ran was probably at her parents’, fell asleep, and his in-laws forgot to inform him. After all, it would not be the first time this had happened. If anything, the Mouris had not stopped fussing over their daughter, and with this case constantly on his mind, Shinichi had not really been the doting husband and father-to-be that he ought to be. Their six-year-old twins were away with his parents somewhere in New York, the elder Kudo couple wanting to give the once-again new parents space to get ready for the youngest Kudo’s arrival.

Halfway through dialing Eri’s number (because his mother-in-law was a light sleeper), Heiji burst into the break room with a suspicious package in his hands.

“Kudo,” the dark-skinned detective panted, as if he just ran up flights of stairs instead of taking the elevator, “that bastard’s got Nee-chan.”

Inside the package were two things: a picture of a very pregnant Kudo Ran, blindfolded and gagged, and a lone platinum wedding band.

  Day 10

“He panicked.”

“Hmm?”

“Seisaku-san, he panicked.” His wife stated, the name of her kidnapper rolling of her tongue like she was mentioning a student of hers. “I started having contractions, started bleeding too. He mumbled something about ‘not following his plan’.”

Shinichi rose his brows, puzzled by Ran’s statement, but he let her continue.

“I think,” she paused, readjusting her hold on their son when they boy started to writhe, “that he was halfway out when Seisaku-san decided to shoot himself.”

Her voice was cool, too indifferent, and deep down, Shinichi knew that his wife may be scarred for life.

“Three sounds,” she gulped then snickered. “Me screaming during the final push, the baby’s cries, and the riffle going off.”

Shinichi held her tighter.

“His blood was everywhere, Shinichi. On the walls, the carpet, the bed, my face,” There are now cracks in her voice, the memories flooding her overwhelmed mind as she remembers it all again, “On our baby boy.”

“Ran…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say. His wife and son were alive, but the trauma she went through was something he wished on no one, not even Seisaku himself.

“I didn’t want him to get cold, so I wrapped him with my cardigan. Not the most hygienic, I know, but I didn’t exactly have many choices,” a chuckle. “He locked the door, so I couldn’t escape, and I couldn’t exactly kick the door open, my energy was spent on giving birth. So, I started breastfeeding the baby, burping him…making sure he was alive long enough for you to find us.”

Something in him shattered even more.

Ran averted her eyes away from their son to look at her husband, their faces only a few centimeters apart.  There were no tears in their eyes, the pain and regret that remained in their hearts too crushing to be expressed by mere crying. “I’m safe, our boy is safe, because you found us. None of this is your fault, so please, Anata,” she kisses him before continuing, “don’t blame yourself.”

Shinichi could not imagine what life would be without her. She was his wife, partner, lover, best friend, soulmate, the mother of his children, his world, his everything.

“Okay,” he promised simply, capturing her lips for a second time before kissing her forehead. “I love you.”

He felt her smiling into his neck, and at that moment, nothing was wrong; they were whole.

They stayed like that for a few more moments, savoring the peaceful yet short time they had with their baby boy before one of the nurses took him away for the night.

    Day 11

 “Your book,” Shinichi remembered far into the night. “What are you going to write about?”

A mischievous look twinkled in Ran’s eyes, and the man knows that his wife will heal just fine. “Kidnapped 101.”

- end

A/N: Nope, not their firstborn. And I also imagine that Ran has had her fair share of getting kidnapped so might as well write a book on it lmao. 

[blossom-hwa]

Light the Pyres |Strike| - SUNGYOON

Based off the Burn It mv? Yeah I know it was like five months ago but whatever. Writing this honestly hurt me so I’m sorry if you’re reading it <3

(But no, really. This is a heavier and bloodier story. If this isn’t for you, please don’t read!)

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, death, side character commits suicide (no mention of suicidal thoughts though), semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 3.8k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Strike >> Next: Light

Golden Child Masterlist

“It’s insane, isn’t it?” You pace around your dorm. “I can’t believe it went so wrong. Not to say that I ever agreed with the testing in the first place, but –”

“I know.” Your mother sighs into the phone. “Anyone would’ve thought such a project would be handled carefully, no? It’s a miracle anyone survived at all.”

You sit on the edge of your bed. “I’m just glad you’re safe,” you say. “When I heard the shaking could be felt even from home…”

She laughs, soft and gentle in a way that sends a pleasant warmth tickling down your spine. God, you love hearing your mother’s laugh. “I’m fine, Y/N.” You can almost hear the smile in her voice. “I appreciate you checking in on me, but I’m perfectly fine. We had a few tremors, that’s all. No one is hurt.”

“Yeah, I know, I know.” You smile. “I have to go to class now, but stay safe, okay? I’ll see you this winter break, I promise.”

“I’m counting the days, darling. I love you and miss you.”

“Same here, Mom.”

You press your head against the car window as Daeyeol speeds down the empty highway. It’s been months since that call, months since the test bomb failed, mutating the few who survived into flesh-eating shades of their human selves.

Of course, no one knew it then. The survivors were rushed to a nearby hospital for treatment and when they first woke up, there were no signs of abnormality besides some slightly shrunken pupils.

Then veins blackened, skin paled, and they attacked.

One infected hospital turned into an entire city. The few who managed to escape tried to spread the news, but no one believed them. Only a couple of the smallest news outlets, looking for a good scoop, related the stories of the shaking survivors of what they called a zombie apocalypse. Unbelievable, right?

Not so much when one zombie made its way into an otherwise healthy city and began biting people in full daylight.

Only a few states away, your mother was living her life when the government imposed a strict lockdown. No one was to leave their home. Certain stores would be open on certain days, and blocks would be allowed to shop at certain times. Otherwise, stay at home and do not go outside.

She called you that day and every day after until communications shut off. On the other side of the country, you panicked when your calls stopped going through, when your texts only rebounded with an “unable to send – try again” message that made you want to smash your phone against the ground.

Until several days later, in the middle of a class no one was paying attention to, she picked up.

Your professor doesn’t even blink an eye as you run out of the room, already halfway to tears. “Oh my God, Mom –”

“Darling, we don’t have time.” You can hear the cracks in her voice. “So many cities nearby have been overrun already, and we can’t use internet or even power anymore because we need to conserve. I don’t know how your call managed to go through.”

“I thought you were dead.” You slide to the floor, back pressed against the wall as you try hard not to cry. “Mom, I –”

“No, I’m alive.” She laughs, but there’s a frightened edge to it that you’ve never heard before. It feels like being doused with cold water, horrible – your mother, the woman who raised you so fearlessly in the wake of her husband’s death, is scared.

You can barely comprehend it.

“I’m alive, Y/N.” A tiny sniffle on the other end. “I just want you to know that I love you very much. I always will.”

“I love you too, Mom.” A tear trickles down your face. “I love you. I’m going to come for you, okay? I’ll come. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll come for you.”

No reply. You look down at your phone, only to realize the call’s disconnected with no way for you to know how much your mother heard of your last words.

You haven’t been able to call her since, not with her power completely cut off and your university going on lockdown just a couple of weeks later. But it doesn’t matter. When rumors that a wave of flesh-eating non-humans was going to hit your city soon, you rented a car with Daeyeol and set off for home, driving in a direction from where no zombies had come.

You’re pretty sure the rental owner knew you had no intention of returning the car, judging from the thin press of his lips as you handed over your card. He softened, though, when you slid into the driver’s seat. “Good luck,” he’d said.

That bit of luck seems to have paid off. After weeks of alternately walking and driving, weeks of crippling paranoia and sudden attacks, neither you nor Daeyeol has been bitten. You might be dehydrated, half-starved, and ready to collapse at any given moment, but at least you have no shrunken pupils, no blackened veins, and no hunger for flesh.

Daeyeol’s voice cuts through the car tires jostling on the road. “All right?”

“Mm.” You nod slightly, head still pressed against the window. A tiny smirk widens your cracked lips. “Still alive.”

It’s morbid. So many people you know or knew have died, probably more than you realize, so it maybe isn’t the best move to joke about being alive. But it makes Daeyeol smile, even if it’s more of a smirk than a real smile, and after everything that’s happened, you both need a reason to laugh every so often.

“Same here,” he says, words cracking slightly with disuse. His voice used to be smooth, sweet with his singer’s tones, but it’s all faded over days and weeks of silence.

Don’t exactly want to attract a horde of zombies for the sake of a bit of song.

His voice breaks you out of depressing thoughts again. “Get some sleep,” he says, glancing over. “We’ll stop at sundown.”

“Cool.” You stretch slightly, yawning. “I guess I’ll drive through the night?”

“If we don’t break down by then.” As if on cue, the motor sputters, nearly launching you forward, but thankfully, the car doesn’t stop just yet. Daeyeol sighs. “Halfway there,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you.

“Halfway there,” you echo as another faded highway sign flashes past. After nearly two months of travel, you’re over halfway home.

You let that thought comfort you into an uneasy sleep.

. . . . .

“Shit.”

You wake up to Daeyeol’s curse and the sputtering sound of the engine. He’s gone off the highway since you fell asleep, now trying to start the choking car on a street in what looks like it used to be a city. As you blink the sleep out of your eyes, he presses down on the accelerator, hard. The car jerks forward for a second, then stops.

Daeyeol groans. “We didn’t even make it to sundown.”

Sure enough, the sun still hasn’t fallen. From the beat up watch on your wrist, you estimate an hour or so before dark. Probably enough time to try and take a crack at fixing the engine or whatever’s gone wrong with the car.

“I’ll take a look.” You rub your eyes. “See if it’s something I can fix. Stay close, I might need your help.”

After years of growing up beside your mechanic mother, mechanical engineering was a no-brainer when you entered university. Since then, your technical skills have grown a little rusty when it comes to repairing cars (hey, not a lot of people drove around your college town), but in the months after the explosion, you’ve had to relearn those skills fast.

You don’t dare roll up your sleeves, not even in the heat of the afternoon sun and the warmth radiating off the engine. If a zombie comes out of nowhere, your layers are the only chance of surviving a bite. 

Wincing at the memory of your first close call, you start poking around the engine. It isn’t smoking, which is good, but something rattles when you tap at it with a wrench.

Great.

Sweat pours down your face as you fiddle around with the engine. A few bolts are loose – how you didn’t notice when you first took the car, you don’t know – but you tighten them carefully as the sun sinks lower in the sky. “Hopefully that’s it,” you mutter before pulling the hood down. Even in such an empty place, the small thunk makes you flinch, looking around for zombies to come pouring out of nowhere.

Nothing happens. You sigh in relief, plucking the keys from Daeyeol’s hand. “Let’s see if it works.”

It does. After an initial sputtering, the car moves forward. Reflexes keep your mouth shut before you can whoop, but you settle for a satisfied sigh as you beckon Daeyeol into the car, his eyes smiling in a way that’s become rare in the past month.

Then –

A shout.

A bang.

You freeze, one hand on the wheel.

Gunshots.

Daeyeol’s already opening his door, eyes wide with worry as someone screams and the familiar sound of dead groaning fills the air. “Come on,” he says, his tone booking no room for argument. “Let’s go.”

He’s too kind. Too selfless. As you run behind him, pulling out the gun holstered at your own waist, you try to push down the urge to drag him back to the car and just drive away from the growing screams and groans.

But Daeyeol is your best friend, one of your two last anchors to his barren earth. You may not have the same selfless streak that he does, but you’ll follow him into danger and watch his back if it’s the last thing you do.

Someone like Daeyeol deserves that much and more.

Following the noise, you sprint between two buildings, tall and dirty and abandoned. Broken glass crunches under your feet as you turn a corner –

And come face to face with black veins and white faces, pupils shrunken in death.

Whirling away from bloody, grasping hands, you club the first zombie over the head with the butt of your gun. It falls. Bang. Dead. You twist around the mass of stilted limbs and race after Daeyeol, yelling for him to slow down as you run into the fray.

Bang. Bang bang bang. Gunshots lead you into a space between four buildings where the ground opens up to reveal what probably was a subway. A horde of zombies claws at a tall bus stranded in the square, a lone man standing on top.

Him. Your eyes zero in on the tall figure, gun in hand that he aims at the zombies. There are too many, though, even if there don’t seem to be more coming.

Daeyeol scrambles on top of an abandoned car. You quickly follow. The man hasn’t caught sight of you just yet, still focused on avoiding zombies that get too close. There’s only a matter of time before they sense your presence and start chasing you instead.

Think. Think!

“You pick them off,” you gasp. “Pick them off from here.”

He nods. “Watch the back. Help me if I run out.”

You turn around. Back to back, you raise your guns, aim, and begin to fire.

Your gunshots and the allure of more meat turn deadened eyes and bloody mouths your way. Trampling over their shot companions, they lurch over to your car, stumbler closer even as you pick them away.

One. Two. Three. Each of your last thirteen bullets has to make a difference. Gritting your teeth against the smell of rotting flesh that still makes you gag even after so many weeks on the road, you shoot down another zombie that’s gotten too close and lock eyes with the man still standing on the bus roof.

The horde has thinned. The groaning has decreased. Zombies still claw at the roof, but if he jumps far enough and runs fast enough, he’ll make it.

“JUMP!” you scream, another bullet embedding itself into a head caked in dried blood. Three bullets left. “NOW!”

An uncertain glance. Daeyeol shoots away another clawing hand and glares at his still figure. “JUMP!”

He jumps.

Lands.

Pitches onto the ground.

Not far enough.

Zombies lurch forward, rotting arms reaching for the man who’s still scrambling to stand. You want to scream. He isn’t going to make it, all of this was for nothing, you’ve wasted ten bullets – eleven, now, as another tears into a zombie head – on a rescue mission that’s going to fail –

Daeyeol jumps down from the car and fires a last shot that goes haywire before grabbing the man and literally dragging him forward, narrowly missing a lurching zombie.

“DAEYEOL!” You jump from the car, kicking away a clawing hand. “YOU FUCKING IDIOT –”

He begins to turn, helping the man stumble forward. Something’s happened to his leg. Your eyebrows furrow – God, you’re going to have words with Daeyeol about putting himself in unnecessary danger when you all are out of this – as you grab at one of the stranger’s arms, dragging him across the bloody square.

All facing the same direction, none of you notice several leftover zombies creeping up from behind.

Daeyeol yells. His hand releases the stranger’s wrist and you watch in disbelief as skeletal, bloody hands drag him backward.

You scream. Fingers fumble for your gun that still has two rounds left, two rounds, more than enough –

But Daeyeol is already staring in disbelief at the blood seeping through a prominent bite mark on the top of his arm that’s beginning to turn black.

No.

No.

No!

Letting go of the stranger with a shriek, you raise both hands and shoot away the zombie still hanging onto Daeyeol’s shoulder. But you have only one bullet left in your gun and there are several zombies lurching towards you and it doesn’t even matter because Daeyeol’s been bitten, you’ve made it halfway home already and he’s been bitten –

Disbelieving eyes meet yours. Something crumbles in his expression and in his gaze you see everything – pain, horror, care, love, determination, resolve.

“Go,” he chokes, stepping backward directly into the path of the remaining undead. “Go!”

Tears blur your vision. “Daeyeol –”

“TAKE HIM AND GO!”

Dimly, you register a hand closing around your trembling wrist, dragging you back, away from your best friend of over twenty years, away from one of your last anchors to life. Gunshots tear through the air and you blink in time to see two of the zombies fall, Daeyeol gritting his teeth as he pulls the trigger on his gun again. And again.

He locks eyes with you once more. His gaze shines with twenty years of friendship and memories as he steps backward over and over, luring the last zombies away.

His instructions pound through your head. Go. Go. Take him and go.

Take him and go!

Your mind screams to stay but your body turns traitor, latching onto the stranger’s arm and stumbling between buildings, back in the direction of the car. He doesn’t move fast but you drag him along, shoes crunching glass and bricks and dried blood.

Something turns your head back in time for the last shot. It doesn’t split a zombie’s skull.

Instead, you watch the muzzle of Daeyeol’s gun fall away from his temple as he collapses to the ground.

Dead.

Dead. Dead. Your best friend is dead. Dead. Dead. Daeyeol is dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. Dead dead dead dead your best friend is dead dead dead Daeyeol’s dead dead dead he’s dead dead dead dead dead he’s DEAD HE’S DEAD –

With a burst of strength you didn’t know you had, you haul the stranger forward to the car still parked on the street. Tossing open the passenger door, you shove him in, then throw yourself into the driver’s seat.

You jam the key into the ignition, turn it and hear the engine sputter to life. Instinct alone moves your limbs, foot pressing down on the gas, hands clenching the wheel so hard your knuckles burn.

Tears stream down your face as you drive into the setting sun.

. . . . .

The car dies ten miles down the road. Far enough to escape straggling zombies.

Not far enough to escape bloody memories.

You curse loudly, slamming a hand on the steering wheel as if it’ll do anything (it won’t. You don’t need two degrees in mechanical engineering to have that measure of common fucking sense). Next to you, the boy remains quiet, barely looking over as you hit the wheel again. And again.

It doesn’t bring Daeyeol back.

Still, you give the steering wheel one more whack before throwing open the car door to kick the vehicle in the side once. Twice.

“Don’t injure yourself.”

Ah. So he speaks. Mystery boy’s voice is a little higher than you expected. If you’d met him before the apocalypse, you might even say it was smooth. Nice. Like a singer’s.

Like Daeyeol’s.

You kick the car a third time, insides writhing.

And you hate it.

It’s irrational, of course, fully irrational. He hasn’t done anything to earn your anger. It’s probably not his fault he got cornered by a horde of zombies. It definitely isn’t his fault Daeyeol has – had – Jesus Christ, you can’t think of him in the past tense, your knees are already going wobbly and the tears are coming again – a stupid selfless streak that ultimately got him killed –

But how dare he speak. How dare he use his voice to warn you not to injure yourself when Daeyeol is the one who should be sitting there saying that. Daeyeol should be the one telling you to take care of yourself when the anger, the stress, the sheer enormity of the world and your own insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe start getting to your head.

If this boy hadn’t been in trouble, Daeyeol would still be here. He’d be here, alive, and though you’d still be stuck ten miles down the fucking road, at least he wouldn’t be dead. Dead because he sacrificed himself for a guy caught in the middle of a zombie horde on top of a fucking bus whom neither of you even knows.

With the last of your strength, you slam the car door shut before you say something you’ll regret. Sinking down on the dirty, empty highway, you close your eyes and take a shuddering breath.

You don’t cry. You just sit there, eyes staring into the darkness of your closed lids. There’s no telling how much time passes until a car door opens and shuts.

There’s a soft grunt. A gasp of pain. Then a presence settles itself on your side of the car, hovering over your still body.

Your fists clench. Unclench. It’s not his fault. Not his fault. Not his fault, not his fault, not his fault –

You open your eyes to stare flatly at the boy standing over you. “Yes?”

He flinches. It must have come out more accusatory than you wanted. You don’t do anything, though, only stare as he keeps standing, leg shifting awkwardly.

Not shifting. You lower your gaze, narrowing your eyes at his trembling limbs. Your mind flashes back to him jumping off the bus, the noise with which he landed, the way he was limping slightly as first Daeyeol, then you dragged him away.

He’s injured. No bones broken since he can still support his weight, but maybe a fracture. Something you don’t have the capacity to heal with anything but time.

Time that you don’t have.

“I…” He swallows. “I wanted to thank you. For helping – saving me.”

For some reason, that rubs you the wrong way.

“Don’t thank me.” Your voice slices the air, bitterly caustic. “Thank my friend. He’s the one who wanted to help.” You look away. “You know, the one who’s dead.”

He flinches again, hard enough to stumble backward. Only the car keeps him from falling over. A pang of guilt hits at your sharp words, but anger and grief for Daeyeol keep it at bay. “You can stay the night,” you say, still averting your gaze. “Take the backseat. Not like I’ll be driving any fucking further.” You stand and kick the car again, this time leaving a dent in the rusty metal. “Gonna have to go back to walking…”

Walking.

Your mouth goes dry.

This is the first time you’ll be walking alone. No Daeyeol to watch your back, no knowledge that someone who’s known you for over twenty years will be at your side. That’s gone, all of it. Gone with his death.

The thought ices your veins. You just want to curl into a ball and cry. But that’s not an option, not with this mystery boy enclosed in the same space as you, so you just throw open the door and slide back inside. He follows a little more cautiously, gingerly entering the car and closing his door softly before sitting in the back.

You sigh. “Close it fully.”

He blinks up at you in the grimy rearview mirror.

“Close the door fully,” you snap. “If a zombie manages to get in because you didn’t close it properly, we’re both fucked.”

It stings a little to be so rude, especially when he only opens the door again like you said and shuts it with more force. But nothing changes the fact that Daeyeol died for him, a person he didn’t even know, and that this boy is the reason why Daeyeol isn’t sitting next to you in the passenger seat, his silent, familiar presence comforting you into sleep.

A tear blinks out of your closed eyes. Why? you want to scream. Why did he do it? Why did he always want to help everybody, even if he knew it might come at the cost of his own life?

You know the answer. Humanity. Daeyeol told you every time you asked, every time you had another brush with death to save anyone you could. He had to keep faith, had to believe that there was something, anything he could do to alleviate some of the pain brought on by this tragedy.

It’s why you always admired him, were so loyal to him from the day you two first became friends in elementary school. Daeyeol always believed in strength that comes from kindness, believed in helping those who couldn’t always help themselves. It’s why you always followed him into the fight, regardless of how much you wanted to shove him back in the car and just drive away.

Bitterness lodges in a lump in your throat.

So much for humanity when all that kindness just got him killed.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for Daeyeol’s soul :/)

[burgesskims]

"You don't have to tell me anything. We can just sit here." please!!! I can't wait to read it!

Lexi you are so sweet! This is set after 8x16 okay... okay. I hope this is good! Enjoy.

~

It had been a few weeks since Kim had been kidnapped and shot. Adam hadn’t left her side since then. Insisting that he would stay over. Stay on the couch, whatever it took. Truth be told, Kim had confessed her love to him as soon as she woke up in the hospital. Realizing life was too short and she was being ridiculous. She was still recovering from her surgery and injuries. Kim just wanted to get back to work or doing anything other than sitting at home. It was making it worse for her. She wanted the distraction, but she was told she was not allowed back for another three weeks. Adam had been there for her every step of the way and once he realized Kim was having nightmares, he slept on the floor in the room with her. Kim told him how silly it was to sleep on the floor and told him he could sleep in the bed with her. It wasn’t the first time they had slept in the same bed and wouldn’t be the last, not after she word-vomited her feelings in the hospital. The fear of falling asleep getting to her every single night, that eventually she would just pass out from pure exhaustion. Refusing to tell the doctor what was happening, despite the many times Adam begged her to tell her doctor. Adam had fallen asleep two hours prior and she laid there just looking at the ceiling until she eventually passed out. Waking up in a panic, she was in a cold sweat. She felt tears on her face and hurried out of bed. Wincing in pain a bit, but she ignored it. Heading into the bathroom, she splashed some water on her face and just stood there for a minute. She then went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. Walking over to the fridge and filling it up. Kim set the glass of water down only after taking a couple sips from it. A death grip on the counter. Adam had rolled over to a missing Kim in bed and got up looking for her, spotting the brunette in the kitchen. “Darlin’. Are you okay?” Kim jumped at the sound, but then realized it was Adam. Turning to look at him, she sighed. “I’m fine.” Kim whispered, but the truth was, she wasn't okay. Hearing him, though, she felt terrible he sounded so tired. She started to feel bad for waking him up. A yawn came from Adam’s mouth as he walked over to her. “You don’t have to tell me anything. We can just sit here.” Motioning for the couch. Adam could only imagine what she had been through. He would have traded places with her if he could.   Kim nodded and walked over to the couch. “Thank you.” The two sat on the couch and Kim curled up beside him. Adam brushed her hair out of her face. He hated to see her like this. Just wanting her to get the help she needed, but he wasn’t going to push it right now. Not wanting to upset her. Kim adjusted herself so she was more comfortable, resting her head on him. The motion of his breathing and the smell of him consuming her. It was enough to make her fall asleep. Adam quickly realized Kim was asleep and placed a kiss on the top of her head. He then placed his head on hers and fell asleep shortly after.

[spicysoftsweet]

Chapter 10

Masterlist

tw death, vague suicidal ideation

When Kaksi woke up in the emergency room in the nearest hospital, confusion overtook her. It took a little while to get over her lightheadedness and the pain she felt from what she assumed was the injury that brought her here. It seemed that she was fine; however, the doctor had reassured her once examining her briefly.

Remembering how she had passed out, she was relieved to see familiar faces next to her. But seeing Chifuyu and Takemichi’s puffy red eyes and bruised faces was in no way comforting. She was afraid to ask what had happened.

“Where’s Kumi?” she inquired instead.

Takemichi took a moment before answering, wondering where to even begin when the girl would ask what had unfolded while she had been unconscious.

“She must be home by now.”

The silence was heavy but Kaksi needed answers, even though she was unprepared for them.

“What…” she hesitated. “What happened?”

Takemichi bit his lips, feeling a new wave of fresh tears coming, blurring his vision completely. Yet the most heartbreaking sight was Chifuyu’s trembling body as he started sobbing once again. A few tears rolled down Kaksi’s cheeks in response, shocked to see the happy boy she knew break down in front of her like this.

“I’m so sorry, Kaksi,” Takemichi said, voice breaking. “I couldn’t save Baji-kun.”

Kaksi bit her lip as her tears fell uncontrollably.

He couldn’t save Baji? What did he mean?

“What are you talking about?” she asked, the words barely coming out as her throat was tightening.

She only received the sounds of Chifuyu and Takemichi’s pain as an answer for a moment, making her feel like it was impossible to breathe.

“Baji didn’t make it,” Chifuyu choked out in between sobs. “He’s dead, Kaksi. I’m so sorry.”

Kaksi’s heartbeat was so awfully loud she felt like her ears should be bleeding.

“That’s not true,” she said, shaking her head and tasting her tears as she spoke.

Chifuyu, wishing that it wasn’t, couldn’t bear it anymore and decided to exit the emergency rooms. Takemichi didn’t stop him and stood by Kaksi’s bed wondering if there were any words of comfort he could give even though desperation was what ate away at everyone at that moment.

“Baji’s one of the strongest people I know,” she said, brown eyes staring into nothing. “He would never…”

She couldn’t say it, she couldn’t face it. Kaksi shook her head, wiping off her tears with the back of her hand. Maybe if she believed it hard enough, Baji would be out the door ready to make fun of her for passing out from a single punch.

---

Mitsuya paced slowly, his whole body aching just as much physically as much as he was emotionally, in the direction of Kumi’s house, with Kumi in his arms.

She had not wanted to leave, even when the police were approaching, meaning he had to all but rip her away from Baji’s body, throwing her over his shoulder as he ran with the rest of his crew, leaving just Kazutora and his dead friend behind.

She’d fought against him and then eventually tired out, crying so much that she’d even puked and it had just barely missed his shirt. Now she was fast asleep as though she had drunk heavily, and night was falling. He looked terribly suspicious; it was obvious he’d been in a fight and he looked miserable, plus he was carrying an unconscious girl in the street.

But he’d do it for her, for his friend who was clearly just as traumatized as he was right now. Neither of them could have foreseen things going this way.

Mitsuya knocked on the door of her house to see her father open the door, and the older man’s eyes widened then his lips pulled into an angry scowl as he took the two teenagers in.

Before he could start yelling, Mitsuya bowed as best he could with the load he was carrying.

“She’s fine, sir, I apologize for bringing your daughter back in this state. I promise she is okay and nothing has happened to her.”

He was partially right.

Kumi’s father all but snatched his daughter out of the young boy’s arms as her mother came over to inspect the young girl’s tear-stained face and hair matted with sweat and tears and vomit.

“She better be fine,” Kumi’s father muttered in a threatening tone. Her mother gave him a harsh look, then turned back to the young man and thanked him softly.

Maybe if he had known what Mitsuya had seen, he would have understood why Mitsuya said nothing more, and turned on his heels to go home as fast as he could.

---

Kumi did not show up to school for the rest of the week.

The first day her parents forgave her, knowing that whatever had happened had been significant enough if it had sapped her will to wake up in the morning, and as she lay wrapped up in a blanket in a dark room, they watched over her carefully, coaxing her to speak with soft words and warm meals to no avail. Kumi neither looked at them, nor her phone, just periodically at the picture of Baji and her, just a day ago stuffed in her drawer out of irritation, and now lain beside her in her bed.

The second day, her mother begged her to come down for meals at the very least and after several minutes of pleading, gave up and brought soup up to her room instead. When she returned a couple hours later, the soup was no longer untouched, and so her mother was thankful that she’d at least eaten. She tried her luck again at asking her if she wanted to talk, and though Kumi used her voice for once, all she said was ‘no.’

The third day, her father dragged the covers off of her at the crack of dawn in time for class and gave her an ultimatum the moment she stirred, eyes puffy from crying overnight.

“Either you tell us what happened so I can punish whoever’s responsible or you go to school as usual if you want to act like nothing happened.”

Her father’s voice was stern, even if it was out of an abundance of love and fear.

Kumi continued to stare at the wall, and her father, angry as he thought of the millions of awful things that that young man with the lilac hair who brought back his puke-covered daughter could have done to her, clenched his fists where he stood.

“You will not continue to ignore us! Your mother is worried sick,” he said, reaching over to turn her so that she faced him.

“Leave me alone!” She shrieked, and her father recoiled, shocked at the distress in her voice. Kumi had always been an obedient child, and now she shook like paper in her bed, curling up against the wall into fetal position. Her father noticed the picture now on the other side of her bed, and picked it up taking a good look at it, and was instantly infuriated.

“Is this all over a boy?”

Kumi grit her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut, hugging herself. She said nothing.

Her father groaned, resisting the urge to tear up the picture to prove to her that any breakup at this young age was meaningless, but then placed it back down on her desk instead. He took a deep breath, then sat down on the edge of her bed, finally softening his voice.

“Did anyone hurt you?” He asked. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear any other answer than no.

She shook her head no, and he sighed in relief. He placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it.

“Sweetheart, I know it hurts but boys come and go.”

It was the worst thing he could have possibly said at that moment, and because Kumi was still facing the wall, he didn’t realize how badly he had renewed her anguish. Her legs curled up and she nodded slowly, holding her tears as her father, none the wiser, kissed her atop the head and rubbed her back again.

“It’s his birthday today, and I can’t celebrate it with him,” she whispered with sobs. Her father gave her another pat on the head.

“There will be other birthday parties you can go to, honey, it’s okay.”

Kumi swallowed something like acid in her throat. He had no idea.

“You’re going back to school first thing tomorrow, okay darling?” Her father added, believing in his heart of hearts that he’d helped fix the problem.

The moment he stepped out, she buried her face into the pillow, and sobbed anew.

On day four, Kumi woke up early in the morning, slightly dizzy from multiple days of crying and poor hydration and missed sun, and willed herself to get ready for school.

As she made her way to the kitchen, her parents looked at her warily as she sat at the breakfast table.

“Good morning, honey, would you like anything special for breakfast?” Her mother asked, still hovering over the stove. Her father glanced at her hopefully over the morning newspaper and a cup of coffee.

The desire to either rewind time or disappear entirely from the face of the earth occurred to her for a split second, but she settled for asking for an omelet. Something simple that would go down her sore throat without resistance.

She sat at the table without an additional word, picking at her eggs with a fork once the steaming meal was set in front of her.

She paused, and then tears ran down her cheeks, yet again.

“Kumi…”

She wiped her tears roughly and then shoveled eggs into her mouth, barely chewing before she swallowed. Her mother was by her side in moments, and her father, at wit’s end set down his newspaper, unsure of what to do.

“I’m sorry, I-I can’t… I can’t seem to stop,” Kumi croaked out of embarrassment as her mother hugged her. “I’ve been trying to stop… It just hurts too much.”

“What hurts, darling?”

Before she could muster anything to explain, there was a sudden knock at the door. It was probably too early in the morning for normal visitors, and Kumi’s father rose to get the door.

At the door was a harried woman he had never seen before, with dark, wavy hair and fox-like brown eyes tied in a messy ponytail. She looked like she was well into middle age but gracefully so and her body seemed to shake as he opened the door, and when she looked up to meet his eyes, her gaze was even more clouded than his daughter.

“Is this the right home? I was told that this was where Kumi-chan lived?” The lady’s voice was husky as though she were sick or had just smoked, and her words cracked as she spoke.

The strange occurrences were accumulating far too quickly and Kumi’s father, taking in the stranger’s disheveled appearance in jeans and a t-shirt, was starting to become overwhelmed. His first impulse was to politely lie, but before he could come up with a word to say, Kumi pushed her way past him and into the woman’s arms.

“I’m sorry, I should have done something,” she cried, and the woman held her, crying softly too as she stroked her hair. “I didn’t know what to do, I couldn’t do anything, I-”

Baji’s mother nodded while her own parents stood in dumbfounded shock.

“Please come to the funeral, Kumi-chan,” she said finally, squatting to meet her at eye level, a sad smile on her face. It pained her to look at this little girl who clearly loved her son so much, and it pained Kumi to look at his mother, who looked so much like him. “He would have wanted you to be there.”

Kumi felt bile rise in her throat, but nodded her head emphatically, wiping her tears.

“We’ll bury him tomorrow.”

---

Kaksi found that her response to her friend’s death setting in was numbness rather than tears.

It was an odd sensation, but it was welcome. She felt like once she got past that numbness, the intensity of her true feelings would be too much to bear. So for however long it lasted, she decided there was nothing wrong with pretending everything was fine even when her mother would point out she was incredibly quiet this morning, barely finishing her breakfast.

She found that her facade was crumbling much faster than anticipated, however. Not seeing Kumi’s face at school left her alone with her thoughts and it was crying in the bathroom that she realised she would not get back the friend she lost. The only person keeping her company those days was Chifuyu as they exchanged messages back and forth. He had eventually told her everything that had unfolded before the girls had arrived by her request, and she felt bad for reminding him what had happened.

Kaksi worried about her best friend but didn’t go to see her, fearing that her presence wouldn’t do her any good in those difficult times, barely handling her emotions herself. Then, by the time she received an invitation to Baji’s funeral, she had decided she couldn’t keep the truth away from her family. They had been shocked, knowing the face of the boy she had mentioned and while they remained supportive, everyone could only acknowledge that there wasn’t much to do anymore.

Chifuyu had informed Kaksi about Kazutora’s whereabouts, assuming she would like to talk to him while he was still detained before being sentenced. However, she was too upset to even think about him, so she figured she would visit once she would have calmed down a little bit.

Kaksi saw Kumi’s face for the first time after Baji’s death the day of his funeral, they kept close to each other and talked a little bit but there was barely anything to say as the weight of what was happening crushed the two girls. Kaksi found that looking at Baji’s body and expressionless face surrounded by flowers was a sight she could barely stand, breaking down into tears as she approached him.

She wept as quietly as she could, returning to her seat next to her friends. Sharing her pain in different ways, Chifuyu rubbed her arm before handing her a tissue while Kumi kept her hand in hers.

Kumi found that by the time the funeral rolled around she had truly run out of energy to weep.

The girl was completely expressionless as she stared at the Baji family grave at the end of the ceremony, despite still holding her friend’s hand as they stood together.

The lack of tears shed by her was becoming startling by now to Kaksi and the rest of the gang but Kumi continued to stare blankly at the stone as well as the flowers she’d just set down among the tons he’d received from family and other friends.

There was a fleeting moment where she considered that dying herself would be better than being in this much pain, and Kaksi, as though she could feel the turmoil ripping through her insides, squeezed Kumi’s hand. It was a gentle reminder that she would always be there.

“We should go, it’s late,” she said, with a sad smile.

Kumi didn’t argue and started to move on Kaksi’s cue. Takemichi had told her just minutes before that Baji had apologized at the end for hurting her, even if it had been too quiet for her to hear. Hearing this almost replaced her lack of emotion with rage for a fleeting moment but she did nothing but nod that she understood in response. It didn’t matter if he was sorry - she didn’t give a rat’s ass if he was sorry. She wasn’t sure she could forgive him for dying at all.

Did that mean he’d cared about her after all or was he trying to make penance with the gods for bullying her before he made his transition? Kumi kept seeing the knife in his hand in her mind’s eye and wondered if he hated her so much, he had preferred to die than to be honest with her.

Was she making this about her? She sighed, and took another glance at Baji’s mother, whose face remained swollen and puffy and red as she stood to the side, managing the guests despite looking as though she’d collapse any second, then bowed to her. She had only had her and her son in the world.

“You can come by anytime to talk,” the woman offered. Kumi nodded and thanked her genuinely in appreciation.

But she’d never take up that offer.

By the next week, her parents had transferred her to the countryside to live with her grandmother, admitting that they were wholly unequipped to deal with the second phase of her depression, apathy. A change of scenery was meant to help, and they prayed that it would. For the sake of their daughter and their daughter’s future.

Kumi knew she was leaving but neglected to say bye to anyone.

Not even to Mitsuya, who she loved like a brother nor to Kaksi, who might as well have been her twin flame.

Kumi opted instead to disappear, the way Baji had asked her to, just days before he died.

[walkingdaryls]

right here

pairing: loki x reader

request: Hi! May I request a Loki x Female!reader? One where Lokis nightmares are getting so bad that he has lost sleep and is terrified to sleep because he actually thinks that when he wakes up, the mortal woman (reader) hes fallen in love with will actually be dead and she is heartbroken by how much pain he is in so she comforts him? If you're ok with it, bonus points if she is pregnant with his baby and he dreams of Thanos killing her or she dies from complications

warnings: violence, nightmares, kinda angst, etc.

thank you so much for the request love!!!! i got so caught up while writing, that i realized i forgot to include the whole pregnancy thing. so sorry about that! i hope you enjoy it nonetheless :)

The night you realized Loki wasn’t sleeping was a few weeks after an Avengers mission almost went wrong. There’d been a slip up with keeping an eye on security. Backup was sent in to where you were hacking their security systems, flying past Tony’s radar, which almost lead to you being killed. Loki and Steve were nearby and managed to help you escape, thankfully. It was a close one, but you managed to get out unscathed, while also bringing down a few assholes.

It was kind of a near-death experience, but you managed to get over it after a few days. The mission was over, you and your team were fine, period. No need to fret.

Loki, on the other hand, was doing more than just fretting. After hearing your ragged breathing through his earpiece two-weeks beforehand, begging for help as you were held at gunpoint...Loki couldn’t get it out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. He’d seen slip ups during missions countless of times before, but this one just struck him the hardest. Seeing his mortal love barely make out made something shift inside of him. After that day, he found himself watching you practically everywhere you went. He kept an eye on you during training. Held you more tightly in bed at night. Held your hand during dinners. Kissed you harder.

Then the mere thought of losing you began manifesting itself into his dreams — well, nightmares.

Only it wasn’t just a playback of what’d almost happened during the mission. It was the same mission, same situation, except usually with gruesome endings. Instead of you making it out alive, Loki heard a gunshot go off, cutting you off mid-cry while he was stuck in the other room with Steve. Sometimes, the nightmare would end with him almost, almost getting to you on time, before watching your throat get slit last minute.

The nightmares progressively grew worse as the nights went on. They became more disgustingly gruesome. Your screams were amplified, cries shriller. And the worst part: he never got to you on time.

And after every single nightmare the first couple weeks, Loki woke up with a quiet gasp. He’d touch his forehead and feel it damp with sweat. His hand would shoot out gently towards you, just to make sure you were alive and okay. He’d never wake you, and thankfully you were a heavy sleeper, but he’d always watch you for a few seconds in the dark just to confirm that you were intact.

Loki felt punished by his nightmares. No matter how hard he tried, he never managed to wake up before you died somehow. Almost as if his own mind was forcing him to watch you suffer. It was pure, pure torture to him.

Loki used to relish in the idea of sleeping. Especially if he knew you’d be in his arms, wrapped deeply into him. But the nightmares took that from him. Loki began putting sleep off as a whole.

He tried staying up as late as possible and falling asleep only when his body was absolutely begging to. But even with just an hour or so of sleep, the nightmares still managed to show up.

He occupied himself with books, tea, whatever he could possibly do without waking you at ungodly hours. Because that was the thing about Loki — when it came to his own suffering, he kept to himself. Besides, he couldn’t bear the mere idea of telling you what he saw you go through in his nightmares.

His illusions made it easier to conceal his suffering from you. His dark under eyes and sickly pale skin were illusioned to keep his God-like features constant. And with you being so busy with minor missions and reports, you didn’t notice.

That is, until his exhaustion got the best of him, and he somehow forgot to put up his usual illusion before bed one night. The only light in the room were the lamps next to your bed, making you two glow slightly.

When you happily returned from the bathroom with your skin care done and pjs on, you audibly gasped upon seeing Loki.

“Oh my god,” You whispered. Loki looked up alerted, and immediately made his way over to you. He saw you cower just a bit, which made his face fall. Only a few seconds passed before he realized the mistake he’d made. He found himself not able to look at you in the eyes.

“Loki...” You whispered, reaching out to him, but he shamefully looked away. No point in putting the illusion up at this point.

You couldn’t believe the state he was in. The bags under his eyes were the deepest shade of purple you’d ever seen before. His glowing, pale skin had now looked gray, sunken, and lifeless. And worst of all, the mischief in his eyes seemed to be gone. It made your chest twist painfully. You couldn’t handle seeing him in such a state.

He tried his best to ignore you, and climbed into the bed, turning the lamp off. But you refused, and followed him into the bed. You reached over him, flicking the light back on. Loki attempted to turn it off, but you pushed his hand away.

You tenderly held him by the jaw, forcing him to look over at you carefully.

“Loki,” You whispered, “W-What happened?”

He shook his head, “It’s silly. Don’t worry about me, my love. Get some sleep.” He tried his best to keep his brave face, but the tears threatening spill from his eyes told you different.

Now it was your turn to shake your head, “No. Not fair. Loki, I do get to worry about you! I’m your girlfriend, and I deserve to know what you’re going through. E-Especially when it has you like this — in such a-a horrid state. What happened, Loki? Please. I-I’m scared.” A quiet, small sob escaped from your mouth. And Loki definitely noticed.

Loki’s eyes became desperate as a tear rolled down his cheek. His hands came up to his face and settled on top of yours that were still caressing him. He took a few seconds to find the right words.

“I can’t sleep, my love. I haven’t been able to.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Nightmares?” Loki’s eyes shut in desperation, not wanting to relive the image of your terrible dead.

“Y-Yes. The same one. Over and over again,” His voice had a bit of anger laced inside it.

“How long as this been going on?” You squeezed his hands gently, a reminder that you’d always be there.

Loki sniffer, “Ever since the mission a few weeks ago in Mexico. Where you...almost died.”

Immediately your heart sank. You saw the pain flicker in Loki’s eyes when he mentioned the almost-incident. And you suddenly felt guilty. You almost died, and you moved past it like nothing happened. Didn’t even check up on Loki.

“Oh, Loki. I’m so sorry. I-I’m so sorry. I should’ve checked in on your afterwards-“

Loki furrowed his eyebrows, his eyes widening in bewilderment. “My love, this is not your fault.”

“I should’ve made sure you were okay,” You whispered. Loki only spilled a couple more tears as he shook his head in comfort and rubbed your cheeks tenderly.

“You must be exhausted,” You said sadly, running a finger over the bags under his eyes. Loki exhaled, wanting to look away from your alluring gaze.

“I don’t think I’ve slept more than two hours a night for the past three weeks.”

You abruptly sat up all the way, “What?!” Your soft tone was now gone.

Loki’s head stayed against the headboard as he watched you carefully, “I-I’m terrified of them. The nightmares. Better to busy myself awake then let myself succumb to the terrors.”

Your shoulders fell in defeat, and you crawled back to Loki’s side.

“My God...” You breathed out, “Are they about what happened in Mexico?”

He meekly nodded, “Except they all end terribly.”

“W-With me...dying?”

At that last word, Loki couldn’t take it anymore. He rushed to sit up on his side of the bed, and held his head in his hands. He was now full on sobbing.

In the time of you and Loki’s relationship, you’d seen him cry a few times, obviously. But full on sobbing...that was different. And you hated it. You hated it because it broke your heart into a million pieces to see him in such a state. It pained you deeply knowing he didn’t dare to look at you in the eyes when he cried. You were still trying to teach him that vulnerability was okay.

Sniffing, you calmly made your way next to him, and didn’t hesitate to start rubbing your hand up and down his back. You didn’t say anything, not wanting him to feel anymore under pressure. Loki sobbing in front of you was already embarrassing enough for him.

You leaned into him, “Loki, I’m right here, okay?” He didn’t answer.

So you continued, “Baby, I’m right here. I’m alive, and doing just fine. Here with you. Okay? I love you. And I’m never gonna leave you. You hear me? Never.” You kissed his exposed neck softly.

“Y-You can’t promise that,” He breathed out.

“What?”

Loki finally mustered up the courage you look at you. He fiercely held your face in his hands. You didn’t dare move.

“In Mexico, I almost lost you.”

You smiled softly, “But you saved me. And I’m here now.”

He smiled too, but it was a small, sad one, “But what’s to say another mission like Mexico will never happen again? We don’t know that. And nothing, NOTHING makes me tremble in fear more than the mere thought of not being able to protect you. After every nightmare, I wake up with my heart practically in my throat as I check to make sure your body next to me is alive and breathing.”

You sighed, bringing his hands off your face, and into your own hands on your lap. You leaned forwards, placing a chaste kiss on Loki’s lips before speaking.

“Loki, whether you have noticed or not, that is my biggest fear as well. You are the love of my life. I love you so much, Loki. And knowing that there might be a moment where I can’t save you scares the living shit out of me. Trust me, it haunts me when I think to much into it. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? Thinking too much about it. I don’t want to scare you anymore, but technically, either one of us could die at any moment. But what good will it do to us if we’re constantly grabbing at that horrible thought? What good does it do to live in fear every second of every day?”

Loki was at a loss for words. He played with your intertwined hands in your lap with his eyebrows furrowed and mouth shut.

You released one of your hands, and brought it up gently to smooth out some hair that’d been blocking his face partly. Almost as if instinct, Loki’s body leaned into your touch. Loki inhaled sharply, and shut his eyes for a few seconds.

“You’re right,” He breathed, “But those nightmares — they’re what really terrify me. How can I not think about you dying, my love, when those horrid images of you drenched in blood terrorize my mind every night?”

You winced, continuing to run your hand through his raven hair, “I know they must be terrible. And-And I’m sorry. I hate you see you in such pain. But maybe opening up to me like you just did will help. You won’t go to bed with such a weight on your chest anymore.”

His eyes told you that he gained at least some hope.

You continued, “Second, as much as I know you don’t want to...wake me up if you have a nightmare.”

“No-“

“Shh!” You played a finger on his lips, “I don’t care if you don’t want to. Just wake me up. Knowing that I’m aware, and there for you could help you ease back into sleep. At least, that’s what my mom used to do for me when I was little...okay?”

He sighed, “Fine.”

“You need your sleep, Loki. Seeing you like this genuinely scared me. I need you to stay healthy and intact too, you know?” You watched him carefully.

His eyes flickered to yours, and he practically sighed in defeat. He hated seeing you so conflicted and hurt.

“I’ll try my best. Like I always do for you, my love.”

You smiled, a full smile, and pulled him into a kiss. His hands quickly made their way to the sides of your face, slowly deepening the kiss that practically made you melt for him.

Both of you broke away after plenty of seconds, but simply touched foreheads and remained there with your eyes closed.

“I’m here, okay Loki? And I love you.”

“And I, you. More than anything.” Another heavy kiss.

You pulled back, “Time for bed?”

Hesitating, he nodded slowly. You continued to hold his hands as the two of you lied down against your soft pillows.

Rolling to your side, you watched Loki with puppy eyes, “Would it help if we slept in each other’s arms tonight?” You and Loki always fell asleep touching each other in some shape or form. Holding hands. A hand on someone’s waist, and so on. But never full cuddling the entire night.

Loki nodded, looking at you as if you had stars in your eyes. He immediately opened his arms to you, and you happily obliged. Snuggled up into his chest, Loki suddenly felt much more comfortable.

You yawned before giving him a sloppy, yet warm kiss on his neck.

“I’m here. Always.”

And that night, Loki’s nightmares returned, but you were there this time to make sure Loki knew he’d always have you by his side.

Always.

[dickspeightjrs]

Hope (2.2k words)

sequel to Despair (I’d recommend reading that first, it’s only short)

Chuck had been defeated.

Cas was still gone. 

Those were the thoughts going through Dean’s head since the day they managed to remove Chuck from the universe for good. 

As usual for Dean, he kept on a front for the sake of Sam and Jack. He showed his relief at Chuck finally being gone, but in the privacy of his own thoughts, he was overwhelmed with a fresh onslaught of despair. 

The day Chuck died, everyone who he had taken appeared outside the bunker. It seemed as if Chuck had been playing with them like toys and dropped them as he met his demise in the warded bunker dungeon. 

Dean, Sam and Jack had stepped outside the sheltered door of the bunker to find a sea of people going on for what seemed like miles. Many of them were strangers who were innocent to the reason for their disappearance. But peppered around were also their friends and family. 

Bobby. Charlie. Donna. So many more. 

Only, as he scanned through the array of faces, Dean couldn’t help but be more and more disappointed that Castiel wasn’t among them. Why would he be? His death wasn’t anything to do with Chuck. Though it didn’t stop Dean hoping. 

It was a few days until everything settled again. 

The boys helped people return to their homes and tried to give them an explanation that wouldn’t be too traumatising. Sam had led the way - he seemed born for it, being a leader. His soft demeanour despite his towering height made people warm to him. Especially compared to Dean’s stormy face and body language. 

Jack still stayed quiet most of the time. Poor kid was taking Castiel’s death hard. Dean honestly regretted being so tough on him at times. He regretted saying Jack wasn’t family. He was. Of course he was. Castiel loved Jack like a son and that made Dean love him now too. 

There were times during the busyness of the bunker that Dean and Jack’s eyes would meet and he’d give Dean a look that told him that he was thinking of Cas too. That he missed him too. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the people inhabiting the bunker were gone and it was left in a more calming silence. 

Donna and Charlie had just left together, both giving Dean an extra hard squeeze as they said goodbye. He knew what the hug was for and he was grateful neither of them had brought up Cas while they’d been there. Dean didn’t know how he would have reacted. 

Once the two women were out of sight, Dean hunched even further into himself and mumbled to Sam that he was going to bed. He didn’t care that it was the middle of the day. He was exhausted and needed refuge from his thoughts. 

Sam responded with a look of shock, which Dean wasn’t surprised by. Dean hadn’t slept properly - as properly as a hunter could anyway - since Cas died. Instead, he’d fall asleep in the library while he’d been looking through lore books. 

(Sam and Jack thought he’d been helping to look for ways to bring down Chuck but he’d actually been looking up anything that might even slightly mention the Empty. He’d thought he’d been secret about it until one day he woke up to find a new book on the table next to him, open to a chapter on a possible way to summon the Empty. Dean didn’t know who put it there, Sam or Jack, but he was grateful for their quiet support.) 

Dean trudged tiredly to his room. Truthfully, he’d been avoiding it ever since Cas died. It wasn’t even like they’d spent much time in there together but he couldn’t handle being alone in a space that was meant to bring him joy and comfort knowing that he’d never see Cas again. 

He’d never had the chance to feel the angel lying next to him and yet he missed it with his entire being. 

Dean’s head ached with a consistent, dull pain. It had been constant since he’d started visiting the woods to speak to Cas. He’d only been back there a couple of times but the night before they killed Chuck, Dean had vowed to Cas that he’d do it and get it right this time. He still looked around for any sign that Cas had heard him but there was nothing. Only the beginnings of a throbbing headache. 

Blinking slowly and shaking his head slightly to try to relieve the pain, Dean finally collapsed onto the bed and let sleep take him. 

Sleep started as a dreamless slumber but, at some point in the night, he felt that same pain again like a punch through his brain. It woke him up, panting and sweating, but when he sat up the pain was gone. And with no memory of what he could have been dreaming about, Dean lay there fighting the spindled fingers of sleep around his mind, determined that he’d never sleep again if it meant not having to feel that pain. 

Of course, it was impossible to maintain having no sleep, even for Dean Winchester - King of sleep deprivation. 

The minute Dean fell into a deep sleep he would be shocked back awake with a burning pain in his head. 

This continued for almost a week after Chuck’s death. Until one night, when Dean shot up in bed, sweat cooling on his skin, he remembered. 

He’d dreamt about the woodland clearing he’d been buried in when Cas had returned him from hell. The dream felt so real it was like he could smell, touch, taste the Earth around him as he ripped himself from the ground. 

Cursing his mind for adding to his never-ending torture, Dean left his room and got himself some coffee from the kitchen - determined not to let himself fall asleep again until he absolutely had to. 

Dean reached his breaking point a few days later. 

He’d been tired and irritable, snapping at Sam and Jack whenever they so much as looked at him. Knowing he couldn’t continue living like this, he let sleep take him once more, bracing himself for the inevitable pain. 

The pain came, but not before Dean saw fleeting images of the woodland again. Only this time, it was like he was a bird flying high above and he could see fallen tree trunks arranged in almost perfect circles. And in the centre was a figure, a person, hunched over on bent knees as if they were praying. 

The person moved to stand on their feet and as they were about to turn a white, burning heat coursed through Dean’s head. 

The pain didn’t shock Dean anymore but the recurring image of the hunched figure replayed in his mind. 

Dean thought what he’d been seeing in his dreams had been disjointed memories of the time he pulled himself out of that grave. But it couldn’t have been. There was never anyone else there when he’d risen to the surface. He’d walked for miles with no soul in sight. 

So who was this hunched figure? Why was Dean dreaming of them? 

And why was every fibre of Dean’s being telling him to get in his car and drive all night until he reached that very spot? 

Taking a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, Dean climbed out of bed and shuffled to the kitchen. 

When he arrived he was surprised to see Sam sitting at the table with a pot of coffee, freshly brewed if the rolling steam coming off it was anything to go by. 

“What’re you doing here, Sammy?” Dean asked, taking a seat opposite his brother. 

Sam pushed a cup of coffee towards Dean. “Waiting for you.” 

“Okay… trying not to be creeped out that you’re sat waiting for me in the kitchen at 3AM…” Dean replied. 

Sam rolled his eyes. “I wanted to talk to you. You’ve been avoiding me and Jack for weeks now. And I noticed you come in here at night sometimes. So I took a chance tonight.” 

Curse his brother for knowing him so well.  

“I don’t know what to tell you, man.” Dean shrugged.

“How about the truth?”

Ha. There was no way Dean was ever telling Sam the truth. If nothing else, Cas deserved to be the first person Dean told about his feelings. And if he never got the chance to do that, well, the secret would die with Dean. 

But Dean really did want Sam’s opinion on the dreams he’d been having. Telling Sam about the dreams didn’t count as telling him the whole truth, did it? 

Dean cleared his throat. “I’ve been having these… dreams, I guess.” He sighed. “I just keep seeing the forest where Cas left me when he raised me from hell. But it’s not a memory because it’s like I'm seeing it from above and there’s this person there.” 

Sam nodded, encouraging Dean to continue. 

“I don’t know if I’m just going crazy but it feels real. Like something deep inside me is telling me that this is important.” Dean avoided Sam’s gaze. “And I get these pains in my head, it’s fucking agony.” 

After a few moments of silence, Dean raised his head to meet Sam’s eyes. 

They held nothing but warmth for his older brother. 

“Look, Dean, I know you haven’t told me and Jack the whole truth of what happened when Cas d-, when he left, but I know more than anyone what it’s like to lose someone you love.” 

Dean felt all the blood in his body rush to his face.

“Come on, Dean. You can’t be surprised that I know how you feel about Cas. Anyone who has ever seen you two together knows that you’d tear apart the Earth for each other.” Sam stated, simply.

Suddenly, Dean felt like he couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t deal with this knowledge that apparently everyone had known about his and Cas’ mutual feelings before they even did. 

He got up from the table and stalked to the door, trying to stop his hands from shaking. 

Sam just let him go but just as Dean was about to escape to the quiet of his room, he spoke up. 

“Dean?” Sam asked, waiting for Dean’s attention to turn back on him. “Those dreams you’ve been having? I don’t know if it’s the same but I just know that I thought the visions I had of Jess were just dreams and I’d hate for you to make the same mistakes I did.” 

Dean swallowed and nodded once at Sam before exiting to his bedroom. 

Within the hour he was hurtling along the highway in the Impala. 

*  *  * 

Dean’s skin tingled with electricity as he approached the clearing. He hadn’t been back here since that day all those years ago. 

He didn’t know what he hoped to find. For the entire journey there, he’d second guessed himself a million times but ultimately he had to know. 

He had to know if he was simply going crazy or if this was some kind of sign of something else at work. 

Finally, he made it to the large expanse of fallen trees. The electricity running through his veins increased as he spotted a figure sat in the dead centre, curled in on itself. 

His heart raced to a speed he would surely die from but Dean kept carefully placing one slow foot in front of the other. 

Until he heard a crack under his foot. 

He looked down to see that he’d stepped on a twig, which snapped under the pressure, sending a ripple of sound across the clearing. 

The hunched figure went ramrod straight where they were. 

Dean swallowed and continued walking ahead. 

Only, he was stopped in his tracks when the figure turned, a slow agonising turn. 

Dean felt sick. He’d come this far thinking, hoping, praying that this would somehow be something that led him back to Cas. But what if he had come all this way only to be disappointed? He didn’t think he could handle the heartbreak. 

Taking a deep breath, Dean closed his eyes and stayed rooted to the spot. 

“Dean?” 

Dean felt euphoria storm through his every atom. 

He opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Castiel, angel of the lord, standing in the middle of fallen trees, staring back at Dean like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. 

Wasting no more time, Dean broke into a sprint, running faster than he was sure he’d ever done before. 

Self-doubt tried to battle its way through, telling him that this was a trick. Castiel couldn’t possibly be back. But he ignored it. 

Dean could have been running into the arms of a devil in disguise and he’d still do it just to have one second in Castiel’s embrace. 

When he reached Cas he pulled the angel as close to his body as could be physically possible. 

“Dean.” Castiel spoke again. And, god, Dean could have cried hearing his name come from the lips of his beloved once again. “Dean. I’m sorry.”

“Cas,” Dean interrupted, still holding Cas tight in his arms. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be sorry.” 

“I just didn’t know what else to do.” Castiel sobbed against Dean’s shoulder.

“I don’t care. I don’t care.” Dean said, sternly, gripping Castiel against him. “I could barely let myself hope that those dreams were you, Cas. You have no idea how fucking happy I am right now.” 

Castiel pulled away from Dean slightly to look him in the eyes. “I couldn’t find any other way to find you Dean. I wasn’t even sure you’d still be alive. I used the last of my powers to project myself into you. I didn’t truly know if it would work but I hoped.” Tears poured down his face. “Coming back here was the only place I knew that you’d recognise was ours.”

“It’s okay, Cas. It’s okay. I’m here now. And neither of us are going anywhere without the other again.”

Castiel nodded and smiled, placing a delicate hand to Dean’s cheek. “Is it too much to hope that this means I was wrong, and you do actually return my feelings?” 

A laugh ripped through Dean in a way that it hadn’t in years, even before Cas had been taken by the empty. “Castiel, angel of the lord, ever since you saved me from hell, I’ve never been the same. You changed me. And I am hopelessly and completely in love with you.” 

Not letting a second more go to waste, Dean didn’t wait for a response from Cas. He pulled the angel into a deep kiss that he hoped told Castiel everything that there weren’t enough words in the world to say. 

(Tag list below - if you’d like to be added or removed, let me know!)

@rambleoncas @eccentriccas @joharvele @tearsofgrace @starrynightdeancas @aurastiel @dreamnovak @good-things-do-happen-dean @ccstiel @destielle @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @bend-me-shape-me

@thechaosthatismybrain @rusted-peopleskills @castiel-enthusiast @wheniwrite28 @fandomsofafeather @ripreptaytion @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @writtenmemxries @gum-believable @breathingdestiel @squintingg

@thefourthheadofcerberus @professorerudite @harmonyhelms @babyinabelstaf @monipotty @tinyroolove7

[kyber-crystal]

Always Close By

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~3.1k hehe kinda long

Summary: In which even the mightiest of superheroes aren’t immune to sickness, and when Steve falls ill, you end up babysitting him. 

Warnings: none, just steve being a big baby ahaha 

Sleep had never really come easily to you. Your insomnia had been a consistent issue since before you first joined the Avengers, so days like these in which you mindlessly wandered around the compound downing two or three cups of coffee and eating granola bars weren't uncommon.

You hadn't gotten a wink of sleep all night yet for some reason, weren't feeling drowsy like you usually did when you stayed up. This time Sam and Bucky were also awake with you, and the three of you switched between playing Mario Kart and Animal Crossing to kill time.

One by one the rest of the team began to wake up and you and Wanda decided to start preparing breakfast. After everyone had finished eating you'd noticed Steve still hadn't come out, and decided to go check up on him.

"Steve?" you knocked carefully on his bedroom door as to not disturb him. "It's time for breakfast."

You didn't get a proper reply but heard a light groan in response, deciding to go inside after several more attempts.

He was buried under his covers, forehead glistening with a cold sweat and his dirty-blonde hair disheveled. When he looked up to meet your gaze you noticed his cheeks were flushed a bright red from heat, and were immediately concerned at the sight.

"Hey," you said softly, carefully approaching him. "You okay?"

Steve just shivered and shook his head.

"What happened?"

"Don't know."

You brought a palm up to his forehead and were alarmed by how hot it felt, hissing at his feverishness as you pulled your hand back. "You're burning up."

"I'll be fine, don't worry," he chuckled, but his laugh turned into a coughing fit. "I'm, just, fine."

"You're coming down with a fever," you stated. "I thought you couldn't get sick."

"Apparently, I can," he coughed, "But it's just a simple flu. I'll be back to normal before you know it. We have our weekly sparring showdown tonight, right? I can't miss out on that."

Despite the calm tone in his voice, you still weren't convinced. The thermometer read a whopping 105.6 degrees and from what you knew, that meant you had to get medical help right away.

"No, you're not. Your body temperature is abnormally high. You're staying in bed," you ordered, then sighed. It was hard not to go soft at those puppy dog eyes, but you knew denying him from being able to do any strenuous physical activity was for the best.

"Can you please speak more quietly," Steve whispered, "I have a migraine."

"I'm sorry," you were quick to lower your voice, "hey...how did this even happen to you? Did you eat anything weird?"

"Food poisoning?"

"No, that can't be. We all ate takeout together for dinner last...shit, shawarma." Your eyes widened in realization. "Dammit, it is."

"Language," he said weakly.

"You're staying in bed for today, alright?" you gave him a stern look.

"I'm not completely disabled, I can stand. Just let me go get some breakfast and afterwards I'll come right back to bed."

"Fine."

You gripped his forearm to help him stand up and his arm immediately went around your waist. You weren't sure whether the heat radiating off him was from his fever or from the way he generally made you feel. Brushing the thought off, you helped him to the kitchen.

"Damn, Cap. What happened?" Sam raised a brow at his friend's appearance.

"I think Tony poisoned him," you shot the billionaire a death glare. "I knew something was up with that shawarma place."

"Then how come none of us are sick?" Tony questioned. "We all had the same thing."

"No, we didn't. Steve and I were the only ones who specifically ordered the chicken shawarma. You guys took kebabs."

"Then why aren't you sick?"

"I don't know."

Steve pulled up a chair to the kitchen island, immediately laying his head on the cool marble counter and closing his eyes.

"Hey, Cap, you think you can try and stomach this? You need to eat or your condition will get worse," Pepper urged as she pushed a plate of scrambled eggs and French toast towards the super-soldier. He pulled himself back up into a sitting position and took a bite out of his toast, but quickly set it down after a wave of nausea washed over his body and he bit back a gag.

He tried to stand up and stumbled, but you and Bruce were quick to catch him by his shoulders.

"Cap? Are you okay?" the scientist asked gently. "Steve."

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping your waist tightly as he grew lightheaded, the world around him beginning to spin rapidly.

You lowered his head onto your lap as Wanda gave you a cold towel, and you pressed it to his sweaty forehead as you ran your other hand through his hair.

"We should get him back to his room, then I'll go get the treatments," Bruce explained as you tried to pull him back up, which was a lot harder than it seemed. "Then we'll figure it out from there."

"Jeez, how heavy are you," you said as you tried helping him to his feet. "I swear you're twice my weight..."

"172," he replied plainly.

"Feels a lot heavier than that. Thought you were at least 200 with all that broad muscle," you grunted as Bucky came forward to help you, and Steve slung his arms around both your shoulders.

Once you led him to his room, Steve lazily crawled back into bed and you pulled the covers over him. It didn't take long before he fell asleep, breathing steadier than before though it still sounded somewhat plugged.

“You sure you’re okay staying here with him?” Bucky raised an eyebrow at you. “If you’re tired too, I can step in if you want.”

“It’s fine, I can handle it. But thanks,” you yawned, waving him off. “Now go and...kick Sam’s ass in Mario Kart so I can face off against you later.”

“You got it,” he ruffled your hair before leaving the room. 

You pulled out your phone to check the time, and sighed. 9:17.

I know I had a workout video scheduled to be posted, guys, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to have it up today, you typed out a quick message to your Twitter. Steve’s sick and I’m having to take care of him. Hope you all understand <3

Almost immediately, the replies came flooding in. 

Awww we love a supportive teammate/gf

Couple goals uwu

Get better soon, Cap!

You smiled to yourself, setting your phone on Steve’s nightstand and running your hand through his hair again. He did look rather peaceful while asleep - and not to mention, flawless, with a face looking like it was sculpted by the Greek gods themselves. Times in which you saw him in a state like this were extremely rare, so you treasured every little moment you got. Between co-commanding missions with you, filing reports, and countless meetings with SHIELD officials (you let him doodle on your hand as he half-listened to the lectures), he was restless. 

You didn’t know when or how you fell asleep, but when you woke up streams of bright light were filtering in through the windows, the sun high in the sky. You groaned and pushed yourself out of bed, gently laying Steve’s head against his pillow before standing up and shuffling down the hall to the kitchen.

“What time is it?” you rubbed your eyes with your sweater’s sleeve. “How long was I out for?”

“1:45. You want lunch? You hardly ate in the morning,” Rhodey pushed a plate towards you. “You’ve been asleep for roughly four hours, Y/N.”

You pulled your phone out again - the weather outside was apparently a breezy 68 degrees. The fact that it wasn’t even hot outside, but Steve was sweating profusely, made you concerned. 

You let out a satisfied sigh as you bit into the sandwich (courtesy of Vision’s cooking), practically inhaling it in just a couple of bites. “Did any of you guys come down with symptoms...?”

“No, but you’ve been exposed so I’d advise that you take this,” Bruce handed you a small, blue pill. “It should keep you from catching Steve’s bug.”

You nodded and swallowed the pill down without even bothering to drink anything. “Alright.”

Just five minutes passed before your phone buzzed on the table. You were quick to answer, holding it up to your ear.

“Y/NNNN.”

“Steve? What do you need? Are you okay? When did you wake up?”

“A few minutes ago...I threw up and then went back to bed, but I couldn’t fall back asleep-”

“Oh, god. Hold on a second, I’ll be right there,” you promptly ended the call and got out of your seat, pushing the chair in before rushing down the hall to his room. 

The super-soldier was sitting up in bed when you arrived, sweat streaming down his forehead as he leaned against the headboard, cheeks flushed a bright red. “Y/N-”

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay, I’m here, what do you need? Water? Ice?”

“I feel horrible.”

You brought your hand up to his forehead again, and immediately jerked it away. “You’re still running a really high f...dammit, have you taken any medicine?”

“No...”

“Stay right here, I’ll go get some-”

“Don’t leave me,” he begged hoarsely as he reached out to grab your wrist. You felt a twinge in your chest at that damn pleading look in his eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”

You let out a sigh of defeat. “...I’ll have Bucky bring the medicine then, okay?”

“Mhmmm.”

It turned out, taking care of a sick super-soldier was a lot more difficult than it seemed. You initially thought that with the serum in his veins, that Steve couldn’t get sick - but for some reason it only amplified his symptoms. Damn that shawarma.

After alerting FRIDAY, Bucky appeared holding a glass of ice water in his metal hand and a small bottle of some medication in the other. 

“How ya feelin’, punk?” 

“Hey, jerk...” Steve said weakly, “Why is there two of you standing in front of me?”

“He’s getting worse, Y/N...” he looked genuinely worried, his gaze flickering between you and Steve. “...I gotta go now so I won’t get sick...but Y/N will take care of you. Got it?”

“Mhmm.”

As soon as Bucky left you popped open the bottle. “Hey. Drink this.”

“It smells disgusting,” Steve scrunched his nose up in distaste. 

“You need to  or you’ll only get worse. Now come on,” you urged. He turned his head away to avoid drinking the strong-smelling liquid. “Stop acting like such a big baby. For Odin’s sake, just drink it.”

“No.”

“Do you want to keep feeling like this?”

“No.”

“Then drink the medicine! It’s not that hard.”

“No.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you said sternly. “Drink. It. I’m not going to repeat myself again.”

Your sudden firm tone of voice took him by surprise. “Fiiiine.”

He took the bottle from your hands and tilted his head back, gulping it down within seconds. As soon as he finished he made a face. 

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“It was.”

You pulled your chair closer to his bedside, propping your hand on your chin as you observed him. “Still feeling nauseous?”

“Mhmmm.”

“If you throw up, you’re gonna have to take this all over again. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

“No..I don’t wike it.”

You chuckled lightly. “I know. It’s for your own good, you know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Let’s wait for a bit, and if you’re feeling well enough, I can make some onion soup for you, okay? How does that sound?”

“Amazing. I love your soup. Why don’t you cook more often?”

“Just never really considered it,” you shrugged. 

Steve rubbed his eyes, subconsciously reaching over to grab your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. You felt your breath hitch in your throat. He then lifted your hand up to his face and pressed your palm to his flushed cheek, leaning into your touch. 

You swallowed hard as you allowed yourself to stare again at his messy-haired, exhausted figure. Your chest ached. The things you were willing to do for him... god, you loved him so much...

“...Why are you staring?” he mumbled, glancing over to meet your worried eyes. “What’s that look on your face? Y/N...are you okay?”

You inhaled sharply. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

His brows furrowed together and he gave you a look that told you he didn’t believe what you said at all. “Sure you are.”

“I’m just worried about you.”

“You’re acting like these are my final moments and that I’m going to die soon. Stop worrying so much.”

“This is coming from the person who waited eight hours straight for me to undergo surgery after that Belarus case?”

“Uh huh.”

Several moments passed in silence before he spoke up again. “Thanks for taking care of me...I’m sorry for being a big baby. I didn’t want to burden you.”

“It’s alright,” you reassured him, “you’re not a burden at all.”

You ended up watching The Empire Strikes Back that afternoon, his head in your lap and you running your fingers through his soft hair. At one point in the movie he began to drift off, and you carefully slid yourself out of bed.

He stirred awake again, reaching for you. “Y/NNNN.”

“I’m gonna go make the soup for you. Rest up and if you’re feeling well enough, then shower and come out to the kitchen, okay?”

“Alright.”

“He doin’ better?” Rhodey raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Fever’s gone down a bit but the nausea’s still there,” you exhaled as you began grabbing the necessary ingredients, “hey, uh, Pietro, can you go down to the cellar and grab some white wine?”

The speedster nodded and in a flash, he had the bottle in his hands. “Here.”

“Thank you.”

“Where’s Cap right now?” Sam questioned.

You heard the water running and replied, “Taking a shower. He’s been sweating like the Amazon.”

With Pietro’s help and your additional powers, you finished up the soup that was supposed to take an hour in just twenty-five minutes. By the time you were setting the bowl along with some bread onto a plate, Steve was hobbling into the kitchen, hair wet and messy with a towel hung around his neck. The tight T-shirt he changed into showed off his toned figure, and you almost dropped your glass of water at the sight. 

His eyes immediately lit up upon seeing the food, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead. “I love you. You’re the best.”

“I know.” You winked and took a seat next to him. The team smirked at the flirty exchange.

Surprisingly enough, he had the entire thing finished under five minutes so that you had to give him a second serving, which he basically inhaled in two giant gulps. 

“You were hungry, huh.”

“After throwing up yesterday’s dinner, yeah.”

You shot Tony a pointed glare. “Thanks a lot, Stark.”

“I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, and held his phone up. “Look, I called them earlier while you were asleep and they gave us a full refund.”

“Fine. Apology accepted.”

Steve’s migraines started acting up again and you were forced to help him back into bed (with Bucky’s assistance, of course). After spending all day hovering over him, you fell asleep as well, a mere thirty seconds after he did.

...

When you came to the next morning, you felt an arm tighten around your waist and a sleepy groan coming from right next to you. You slowly opened your eyes and realized you were curled up against him with a hand resting against his chest, your legs intertwined together as he held you tightly to him. A breath of relief escaped your lips when his face no longer looked alarmingly pale and his cheeks weren’t bright red.

Steve woke up a few seconds later, giving you a sleepy smile as his grip around you tightened.

"Mornin', doll," he said in a husky voice that made you almost swoon. But then he too, realized what was going on and quickly snapped out of it. "What- oh my God, I’m sorry-”

“Are y’all fully dressed in there? Wanda made her famous French toast feast for breakfast so if you don’t get yo asses out here I’m eating your food!” Sam yelled as he pounded on the door. 

"Just a minute!” you shouted back in reply as you and Steve sprung apart, and swung your legs over the edge of the bed and grabbed a pair of clothes before heading to the bathroom to change. 

“What the hell, Y/N, you actually slept for sixteen consecutive hours? I’ve never seen you do that before?”

“Huh? What time is it?”

“8:07. And why are you wearing Steve’s shirt?”

“What do you mean? I’m not...” you trailed off on your sentence and looked down to see that you were in fact, wearing one of Steve’s shirts. “...Oh.”

“Did you two...”

“No!” 

“Cute,” you heard someone chuckle lowly from behind you and turned around to see a smirking Steve with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“So I see now that you’re okay, you’re acting all cocky again, hm?” you raised an eyebrow at the super-soldier. “Guess those meds finally wore off.”

He just chuckled in response and pulled him towards you, engulfing you in a tight, hug. 

“Let me go!” you squealed, squirming against his tight grip as the team watched in amusement. “I need to eat breakfast! Let me go!”

“Only if you say the words, sweetheart.”

“Let me go right this instant! I’m serious!” you began laughing uncontrollably. “Steve! Let me go!”

“Not until you say it.”

“Fine! I love you and you’re my favorite Avenger!” He released you from his arms and you brushed your shirt off. “There, happy?”

Steve laughed again, that same damn smirk on his face. “I didn’t know you could get flustered, Y/N.”

“I’m not flustered,” you muttered. 

“Your face is like a tomato!” Peter exclaimed. “You wouldn’t look like that if you weren’t. Mr. Stark, looks like I owe you twenty.”

“Peter, did you make a bet with Tony again?” You frowned. 

“Yep! We bet when we’d finally figure out you liked Cap and he bet within the next week, while I said three weeks.”

“Oh my god.”

[akp-1327]

dear diary // chapter ten

Auditions have arrived...O_o

Fair warning, I don’t know much about drama...anything? So I did a bunch of research from the original books, websites, and friends with experience...so let me know if any of this is inaccurate!

Also...hello! It’s been waaaaaay way way too long since the last update, but I’m beyond happy to be back! :)

As always, find the series masterlist here (Tumblr) or here (AO3) to catch up! :)

Pairings: Ajay Bhandari x f!MC (Charlotte Parker), Skye Crandall x f!OC (Leila Maciel)

Word Count: 6.5k

(*) Warnings: the briefest mention of dementia, otherwise there’s just a roller coaster of emotions in this chapter!

After one of the fastest weeks known to man, it was the day that classes started

This morning was all too familiar; the sudden remembrance of signing up for the morning classes, then the curse as I woke up with the sun. However, it was comforting to have this routine again. It made me feel normal, which had been a feeling I missed all summer back at Dad’s.

Walking to class on days like these, where the sun was warm and the sky was clear, had been another thing I missed. Birds chirping, the light foot traffic around campus, the smell of coffee wafting on the light breeze...

I could only think of how many hours spent pouring over the script for The Enchanted Kingdom. There were also points where Rory physically had to tear me away from the script to get outside, which to say, was not a task he succeeded at...

“C’mon! It’ll be fun! We can go find you some new blazers or something, since you insist on wearing them all the time.” Rory was slowly easing a highlighter from my hand. I gave him a death glare and he backed away, “At least take a break? You’ve been hunched here for hours.”

After a pointed look into his eyes, I focused my attention back on the script in front of me.

“I’m completely fine. Also, while I would love to get a few new blazers, I don’t have the time right now.” My voice was rough. I hadn’t been able to sleep much or eat anything but instant ramen for the past couple days. Though, I was feeling adventurous this morning and drank a piping hot cup of coffee. That felt like it did the trick, at least for a good while...until I fell asleep on my script for an hour or so. Ever since then, my eyes have been pretty droopy.

“Just let me be, Rory.”

Without another word, Rory sighed and left with a frown.

...was I a jerk that day? Maybe. But that was my nature; I’m a director and I’m supposed to be that way.

Another drift of wind caught the unbuttoned flannel I wore. Flannel was definitely a go-to right now, especially since all my blazers were much too warm for this kind of weather. Also, who knows who I’ll see?

I adjusted the backpack on my shoulders with a heavy sigh and tightened my grip on the straps. Something about today felt different from first days of class in the past. Could it be how nice the weather was today? It’d been raining on the first day for the past two years...

Maybe it was about where I was going? Performance Theory wasn’t the most interesting thing on the planet, but it was also something I’d taken the past two years. By now, it was something to wake me up in the morning. So why would that make me feel weird?

I shook the feeling away and continued to walk at a relaxed pace, focusing on something else.

Naturally, my eyes traced over campus. A big group of students laughing in the shade of a tall maple tree, a few couples walking shoulder to shoulder, and many stragglers like me with their textbooks in hand.

The environment was serene, and it was definitely one I enjoyed. The long summer of renting out that spare room at Dad’s apartment was, at last, something I didn’t need to worry about for a while. Or...ever again, now that I’ve visited Amma.

Maybe that was the feeling? Amma looked so happy to see me, and so did Mo. I guess I missed them more than I thought...

My feet fell onto a familiar path towards the arts building. I was almost there; only a few more steps and a small staircase until the doors--

“Ajay!” A voice shouted from behind me, making my eyes roll. I fought the urge to keep walking and just ignore them, but I knew that’d be a bad choice with who this was.

Craaaaaap.

“Danielle.” I greeted through gritted teeth. I turned around to face her. “Hello.”

She gave her normal maniacal grin, creepy as always.

“Auditions are tonight, yeah?” She asked, and then held up her already battered script for me to see. There was bright yellow, green, and pink post-its peeking out from the pages. She’d always been dedicated to her auditions...but she just couldn’t execute.

Honestly? That was okay. She was an alright person for ensemble roles because she’d been a good dancer. But that doesn’t mean she was a great actor.

“They are, so make sure to be at the auditorium by four.” I sounded a little annoyed, but Danielle was oblivious. She wouldn’t notice; even if she did, she wouldn’t care. “Don’t be late, otherwise I’ll make sure you can’t audition.”

Her eyes widened a little, but otherwise that annoying smile still stretched across her face. Ugh, absolutely obnoxious.

“I won’t let you down! Oh, and tell Rory to save me a seat!” Danielle said before walking away with a wave. Once she was out of sight, I rolled my eyes with a shudder and started walking to class again.

*

*

As expected, classes were already boring. One lecture after another, going through all those stupid, stereotypical ice breaker games. Your name, your birthday, your major, your entire life plan...

I didn’t have another class until noon, and that was about an hour and a half from now. To pass the time, I decided to pull out my script. The sun reflected off the white paper and instantly obliterated my retinas, so with a watery blink, I looked away and tucked it back into place in my backpack, vowing to look at it later.

There was...nothing left for me to do.

Wait, is this what people call a break? This is what breathing feels like? Wow, this is so surreal...

Something about the moment just felt wrong. I shouldn’t be idle like this.

Students were laughing as they walked by. I recognized a few of them, but only by their faces. Some I recognized from past classes, others from past ensembles, a few from Lafayette...

Then, though, I found a familiarity within the group.

Erin.

“Ajay,” Erin smiled, looking relaxed as she sat next to me, “didn’t expect to see you sitting here.”

I gave her an eye roll. “Is it...illegal?”

Her loud laugh drew the attention of people around. “In the book of Ajay, it definitely is. It’s almost concerning to see you so calm on audition day.”

So it was noticeable. Huh. Immediately, my posture straightened and I crossed my legs, prompting Erin to laugh a little.

“I guess it’s just weird coming from you. I’m not a drama nerd, but I know this isn’t how directors normally act when they’re hours away from auditions.” She slowly turned to face me before continuing. “Anyway, what brings you to this bench?” 

Her voice was surprisingly even. She looked like she’d been doing a lot better, but I could still see the sadness and exhaustion in her eyes. Erin had always been extremely resilient and level-minded, but even she could only handle so much stress at once. 

“My next class is at noon so I figured I’d sit for a little while.”

Almost immediately, she sighed. “Preach. I have psych, so I’m in for a treat.”

Then, silence. It was thick, deafening, excruciating...I quickly wracked my brain for a question to get rid of it. Her confession about her grandma came up, then so did something else.

I hated to bring it up, but my mind wouldn’t forgive me if I chose something else to talk about.

“Erin, what happened to your grandpa?”

The question was met with another sigh, but this one was heavier. Regret already plagued my brain, but it was too late now. Nice job, Ajay.

“Let me guess, Rory told you?” Her expression wasn’t much different, but it definitely solidified into a more serious one than before.

“Yeah, on the first day back. With your grandma and all, I was wondering if they were both...”

Before she spoke again, she took a deep breath. “No, no. You’re right to wonder. It’s nothing concerning, though. He just didn’t like the idea of being separated from my grandma while she gets treatment, and so he let out a lot of his frustrations on me in an argument a few days before I came here. Said he didn’t like everyone he loved leaving him,” she shrugged, shaking her head, “I called Rory afterwards, since his parents were the same way when he left for college, and that ended up being a three hour-long conversation.”

I nodded when she took a break, and in that moment, I wondered how she worked through this. It was terrible, especially when her family was so far away.

“It hurt when I left this time, of course, but I think it’s good for me to get away from them for a while. I just need some space to process everything.” She shook her head, almost like she was shaking the thoughts away. Instead, she changed the topic. “Did Rory say something bad happened to my grandpa?”

Another nod, and Erin clicked her tongue.

“Rory was just being a gossip like always, then. Pops is just adjusting,” A genuine smile came back to her face, which was always reassuring. “So, I heard you went to your mom’s house? How was that?”

I groaned. “Can we talk about something else?”

She laughed loudly and, again, prompted lots of attention to our bench. “That great, huh?”

I sighed. The weird feeling from earlier came back, slowly eating away at my thoughts once more.

Erin quirked an eyebrow. “You’re making a face.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, challenging her gaze. “I always make a face. Everyone makes a face. It’d be concerning if someone didn’t make a face.”

That answer only made her eyes narrow even more.

“You’re rambling,” With this realization, she looked me over, “are you...okay? You never ramble.”

I could feel my leg start to bounce. “I can assure you that I’m fine.”

She hummed loudly, and I noticed my hands were starting to sweat a little.

“Add that to the pile of other lies you’ve been telling Rory for the past week. He’s been keeping me in the loop since, y’know, you never text me,” her elbow nudged my arm with a force that made me let out an uncharacteristic squeak, “so I’m sorry, but I’m not buying any of that crap. I can easily tell something’s bugging you.”

“I’m just stressed and on edge for tonight. That’s all.” Was all I could say. Knowing Erin, she wouldn’t take that as a viable answer.

“You’re never on edge for auditions. You say it’s one of the most laid back parts of the process...” Erin’s voice was accusative. She could see right through me. Sadly, that had always been one of her talents.

“Sometimes auditions are easy, but this isn’t one of those times,” I heaved a loud sigh and rested my chin on my ever-so-slowly tightening fist, “It’s a big cast, and so that a lot of decisions need to be made.”

Erin was quiet for a second. I could hear her drumming her fingers against the cover of her textbook softly, and then she spoke. “Sure, I get that part, but you’re off, too.”

I whipped my head towards her and found a teasing smile growing on her lips. “How so?”

She cocked her head to the side and playfully squinted. “You’re not wearing a blazer, for one,” she was keeping a tally on her fingers, “you’re too relaxed, you’re bouncing your crossed legs, your posture is super straight, you’re rambling, you’re defensive, you’re even a little jumpy...”

I slouched back down at the mention, and this only made her smirk grow into a full-blown grin. “You’ve been pretty quiet about the show, too. By now, I’d usually hear you going on and on about them like a proud grandma.”

“Erin--”

“Oh, this scene will be so interesting to choreograph, and this scene will bring an audience to tears, and even this--” Erin’s voice was mocking. Of course she was fairly accurate, but it still got on my nerves.

“Okay, I get it,” A helpless sigh escaped me, and she had that knowing look in her eye that made me want to gag.

“What’s up with you?” Erin laughed, narrowing her eyes a little in curiosity. “Don’t leave a poor girl in suspense!”

The truth was something I could barely admit to myself. It was the thought of a feeling I never, ever wanted to experience again. Heartbreak.

“Ajay, you’re blushing...” Erin was smiling now.

And then it hit me. All hope was lost when she covered her mouth and squealed. I’ve never, ever blushed in front of her.

“Ooooohhhhh, do you like someone?” Erin started to cheer. I opened my mouth to stop her from getting too loud, but she was already squealing again. There was no stopping the stares from the passing students now. “Oh. My. God! And that someone is making you nervous, right?”

I grimaced, the reminder of why I kept quiet surfacing for the millionth time. People always make a big deal out of your feelings, so that’s why you never show any emotion.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t--” The heat sweltered on my cheeks, and I knew it was still visible when Erin clapped. She looked so relieved while I wanted the world to open up and swallow me whole.

“Oh, I called it! I so called it!”

I looked up at her and found her grinning with some emotion I couldn’t quite place. She looked like she was about to scream! “Erin, if you tell anyone, I swear to any and every deity in this damn universe--”

“Anyone does not include Rory. He needs to know!” Erin said excitedly.

“He does not need to know! That information is not on a need-to-know basis!”

And he’ll know exactly who it is!

“Ajay! This is awesome! It’s been so long since you liked someone!”

Awesome? Awesome?

“Awesome is one of the last words I’d use.” I could practically feel the blush on my cheeks slowly burn me from the outside in; it made me wonder if there were actual flames dancing on my skin. “They might be auditioning. I...can’t let something like that distract me from the show. You know what happened with Kelly.”

Finally, Erin let her smile turn into something more composed.

“That was two years ago. Plus, not to mention, it was with a girl who was as blind as a bat.” Erin lifted a hand onto my shoulder and patted it gently, “You’ve changed since then, so I think it’s safe for you to let that fear go.”

“I know I’ve changed,” I was basically whispering at this point, “but I guess I’m just...”

She patted my shoulder again. “You’re scared.”

Before I could bite my tongue, I blurted, “Terrified.”

She sat in silence for a minute, but then, that sly grin of hers was back. “Well, then.”

“What do I do?”

Erin placed her hands on my shoulders. “One of the healthiest ways to overcome a fear is through exposure therapy. So, maybe...you could tell me who they are?”

I searched her eyes, and much like her grin, all I found was warmth. It was the warmth that’d been missing from Erin since we’d arrived on campus. It was nice to see her start to heal from her summer and return to her normal self.

Still, I blurted the one word on my tongue. “No.”

She sighed, but she couldn’t stop smiling. “Ugh, fine. But just build the courage up sooner rather than later, please? I don’t handle anticipation very well and I’d very much like to know who made you this way.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You think I’m ready for that?”

Erin stood up, suddenly, and laughed. “That’s up for you to decide. Though, from an outsider’s perspective, I think you would’ve been just fine two years ago.”

Her gaze went soft for a second, but it was gone before I could decipher more. “Anywho, text me if you need help asking this mystery person out. You know I’d be happy to help!”

She was off with a sly wink before I could retort, already whipping her phone out to text Rory. Even if I didn’t want that to happen, I smiled.

*

*

My noon class was both a bore and a nightmare. Calculus was all gibberish - well, all math was - so I did my best to not pay attention to the professor. I needed to keep my head screwed on straight for later, so instead, I focused on reading through the script and notes I added in the margins. It ended up being quite nice, actually.

After the class spawned from the fiery depths of hell finished, I had a quick lunch consisting of a pack of rainbow goldfish crackers and hurried across campus to my next class.

Theatre arts was the perfect class for today, especially with it being audition night. Prime location and a great way to get back into the swing of things.

When I arrived, the auditorium entrance was buzzing with people. The drama building has never been a popular destination during the day, so what gives? Were auditions really something special this year?

Among the many faces, I spotted Rory, Skye, Leila, and Charlotte all huddled around a bulletin board on the front lawn. From the looks of it, they were...arguing, I suppose.

“...but wait! Skye, you’re good with computers!” Leila gasped, pointing at whatever was pinned on the board. “There are still tech spots available! And there isn’t an audition necessary for them.”

I watched Skye shake her head. Her hair was down, per usual, and she looked uptight. That was normal for her. But she also looked anxious when her eyes were looking at the bulletin board.

“Leila, you never need to audition for a tech spot,” Charlotte sighed, shaking her head, “can we please just let Skye make her own decision?”

“But there always needs to be more tech people! And it’d be fun to have another friend be at rehearsals.” Rory was pleading. He looked at Skye like she was his saving grace. “Please, Skye?”

It wasn’t an exaggeration at how small the tech crew was. Everyone in the drama program wants to act, not do tech. So, if anyone in the cast or crew heard about another tech, they’d jump at the opportunity and recruit them.

Skye gave everyone a look of dismay, then before she spoke, her eyes met mine.

“Ajay,” Skye said loudly, waving me closer. I hurried over and became apart of the huddle, and somehow fate was nice enough to put me next to Charlotte. “Does the drama program need more tech people?”

She was about to hate my guts.

“There’s never enough of them,” Memories of failing to do sound board last year flooded my mind, “don’t mind me asking, but would you be willing to give it a shot?”

That’s what made Skye groan. “Ugggg, you too?”

Her response made Leila laugh, but that was the only sound before a few moments of complete silence.

Finally, Skye sighed in defeat. “Depends. I’ll have to see what the software looks like first.”

I’ll take that as a yes...for now.

“Auditions are--” I started, but then Skye rolled her eyes.

“If I hear about auditions being tonight one more time, I swear...” Skye said, a hint of a smirk coming onto her face as she started to laugh. That was different, too; I don’t think I’ve ever heard her actual laugh.

“So does that mean you’ll do it?” Rory asked eagerly.

Skye smiled; it was small, but it was genuine. All the anxiety in her eyes vanished. “We’ll see.”

“Don’t feel forced to, though!” Charlotte squeaked, her voice cracking a little. “There are plenty of techs out there--”

“No! Don’t you dare rub her the wrong way!” Rory exclaimed, making Charlotte giggle.

It was cute. That thought alone made me blush a little.

Then, Leila gasped, her eyes widening in panic.

“Oh crap! I have to go!” Leila yelled, checking her phone. I decided to check my watch, and it read that it was almost two. Then she piped up again. “Skye, wanna walk with me?”

Skye let out a soft, surprised gasp. Her cheeks visibly reddened against her pale skin as she nodded.

“Sure,” Skye said, clearing her throat, “uh, maybe I’ll see you guys later,” she waved, allowing Leila to quickly drag her away by the arm, “jeez, lady, slow down--”

“Bye guys!” Leila yelled over her shoulder, then disappeared with Skye down the sidewalk and into a crowd of students.

Rory was the first one to speak, looking right at Charlotte. “Let me guess, you gotta go to the drama building?”

She nodded. “Whoa...it’s almost like I told you that when I got here...”

The two kept joking around as we started to walk into the building, but I kept thinking about what Erin had said about forgetting the whole Kelly situation. It felt like a great idea, but I couldn’t shake away all the fear associated with it.

It was another one of those things that’d eat away at my brain, but I guess that’d be okay. There wasn’t anything I could do about it now...

*

*

Theatre Arts wasn’t as boring as usual, but it was definitely a lot more chaotic. Commands for props here, calls for help with setting the lights up over there, and somewhere in between, lots of laughing coming from Charlotte and Rory.

It looked like Charlotte was blushing from here, but I couldn’t exactly tell. She and Rory were on the complete opposite side of the auditorium.

Professor Olson and I were skimming through the lists we had in front of us. It was hard to focus on the character descriptions I’ve read a gazillion times when I heard Charlotte’s vivacious laugh in the background.

“Alright,” Olson said, sounding exhausted already, “I’ve had some people hang posters around campus, so this shouldn’t be a hard place to find. Hopefully we get some new faces around here...”

Instantly, I looked over to Charlotte, still laughing at something Rory had said. Her smile brightened tenfold when she met my gaze, and she eagerly waved. With a small smile, I shook my head and looked back at Olson.

“That shouldn’t be too much of an issue,” I pulled out the form with all the auditionees on it and pointed to her name, “Charlotte Parker. Freshman.”

He nodded quizzically. “Anything unique about her?”

A lot, my brain immediately responded, though I shook the thought away.

“She performed at the Spotlite festival in London as a lead a few years back,” The professor’s eyebrows shot up, “and her school won. So I’d say she’s a pretty strong contender tonight.”

The fact that she was auditioning made me feel like I’d been punched in the gut by the universe. Exactly what I wished to not happen...happened. Though, at the same time, I couldn’t help but be a little excited to see what she could do on stage.

“That’s quite the accomplishment. Is there anyone else you know?”

As we ran through the list once more, a few names stuck out like sore thumbs; Rory, Danielle, Natalie, Clint, Jordan, and some frequents I’ve seen over the past couple years.

What finally tore my attention from the conversation was a gleeful scream.

“Skye!”

Charlotte. Duh.

Then, rushed footsteps up the aisle and towards the doors. A collision, then a groan of “why”. My guess: there was a hug and it’d been extremely one-sided.

That was Skye, alright.

Wait, my thoughts started to jumble together in panic, it’s already four?

Sure enough, I checked my watch. It was already a quarter til four.

“I hope you’re ready. It looks like this’ll be a long one.” Olson gestured back to the doors where Skye and Charlotte had still been talking. Several people were starting to flood into the seats, all with scripts in hand, and began to mingle.

“Jesus,” I mumbled.

As the start time approached, I got a little more nervous when thinking about the inevitable crashing and burning of this show if I let my feelings come before my job as a director.

Then, a loud timer rang off of Olson’s phone. He leaned over and whispered. “Show time.”

*

*

“Next, please!”

Already an hour in and we’d only made it through half of the list.

Jordan was on stage and running through their lines. They had a great way of controlling their emotions, but it all felt a little bland. However, it could’ve quite possibly been the scene they chose; a scene of the princess or prince daydreaming about the knight. 

I knew it’d be a popular scene for auditions; it really goes into the character of the princess or prince by going through ranges of emotion, from happiness and love to humiliation and regret. The scene is extremely captivating and is a great choice for actors to showcase the abilities they could bring to the table if they got the role. 

What I wasn’t prepared for, though, was the majority of the people auditioning for the role to use the same exact scene. Especially Jordan, who was usually someone who chose scenes that’d be risky for others. 

Strange.

“Alright, thank you, Jordan.” Professor Olson said, composed as ever. It took him a few moments to finish writing in notes next to Jordan’s name, but then he finished and glanced at the auditionee list. “Next, I’d like to see Danielle. Start whenever you’re ready.”

My eyes rolled. She scampered up onto the stage, script in hand, and started with a completely different tone than the millions of other scenes we’d heard. I quickly searched for the passage she’d been reading from in the never-ending stack of papers on the table.

She was reading for the witch, surprisingly enough. Her voice was startlingly dark. It was deep, it was evil, it was rich, it was...what we’d been looking for in a witch. However, her downfall was the lack of control over her emotions.

“Alright, Danielle, thank you.” Olson held up his hand, jotting a quick note down next to her name. Voice: dark, brooding, menacing. Emotions: uncontrolled.

During the transition, I took a glance back at the list to see who’d be next, and my heart stopped. It’s like I couldn’t feel it beat in my chest; it’d felt like it stopped entirely-

“Kelly, whenever you’re ready.”

My eyes snapped up to the stage, and there she stood. For the most part, she’d been the same Kelly I fell for two years ago, but this time, I didn’t get the butterflies in my stomach. Instead, the sight made me a little uneasy. Obviously it wasn’t her appearance, because that was the same, but her very presence.

The only feelings I had were irritation and sorrow and cowardice and regret--

“Ajay, are you ready?” Olson asked. The room was silent, and so I realized they’d been waiting on me.

“Oh. Um, yeah, go ahead.” My voice was rushed, but I barely noticed as the nostalgic feeling of her chocolate brown eyes burning into my being washed over me. It didn’t make me nervous like it used to, nor did it render me speechless.

“Right. Um.” Kelly said anxiously, fiddling with her script before she started to repeat the average line for the prince and princess roles. I noticed that her voice had the same lilt, but something didn’t feel right with it. 

It’s not for the right character, that’s why.

I tapped Olson’s shoulder and pointed to another character on the list, watching as he nodded.

“Kelly,” He interrupted her mid-sentence, and a look of fear glazed her eyes, “have you read over any lines for the witch?”

She shook her head, the look of fear melting into one of utter confusion.

“Flip back a page in your script and choose a line from the witch, then read it as you see fit. Take your time.”

I was so happy Olson was the one doing all the talking. I’d probably just tell her to move on at this point.

After a few moments, Kelly nodded and took a deep breath. Much like Danielle, she had the sharp undertones we’d been looking for, but they weren’t as clear as Danielle’s. Kelly, though, did have more control over her emotions.

I never thought I’d find myself saying this, but I hoped Danielle would have more advantages over Kelly. I just didn’t want to work with her again, not after what happened.

“Alright, Kelly, we’ll consider you for both options. Thank you.” 

At this point, Olson sounded exhausted beyond belief.

Kelly left the stage with a nod. My eyes met hers just before she vanished, and there was some emotion in them that I couldn’t quite place. Guilt, annoyance, confusion...I really didn’t know.

When she left the stage completely, it felt like there was a heavy weight lifted off of my shoulders.

“Well...let’s see here...” Olson mumbled under his breath, taking a sip of his coffee before he pointed down at one last list of names. “Only a few more left. How’re we looking?”

There’d been several great candidates for each role; this was always great, since then we’d have understudies and members for a complete ensemble.

“Like we’ll have some decisions to make, for sure,” I ran a hand through my hair as I read through the notes I made for each auditionee, “especially for a few of our veteran actors.”

It was true. Some were better for other roles, some didn’t have the strength or spark they did last year, some were improving...

“People change, scripts change, expectations change. It’s just a new journey to start,” When the exhausted professor smiled, the faintest purple bags beneath his eyes deepened, “and new journeys require a fresh and open mind.”

*

*

Somehow, Charlotte was the last to audition. When she was called to the stage, it was almost eight. Everyone in the house seats looked like they wanted to go home.

A familiar fluttering in my stomach appeared when she looked at me from beneath the stage lights. She looked like she’d been in her element, her smile shimmering and her eyes sparkling as she looked around at the red velvet seats in front of her. The script she held was neat and shook a bit, but her resolve remained calm and composed.

A good stage presence, I noted.

“Alright, Charlotte, because you’re new, do you have any questions I can answer before you start?” Olson’s voice gave way to his fatigue from asking the same question all evening, but Charlotte shook her head.

“All of my questions were answered throughout the evening,” She smiled, her voice smooth, “but if I have any, I’ll be sure to ask.”

That was an answer that made Olson blink in surprise. He wasn’t someone to be speechless, but those few seconds were definitely silent. It was clear she’d impressed him with just a sentence.

I definitely know the feeling...

“Excellent, so I believe you’re ready to go,” Olson wrote a few notes on his paper, then looked back up, “any specific role you’re auditioning for, or are you open to any?”

Charlotte cleared her throat and glanced at me before she focused on Olson once more. Her posture visibly straightened.

“I’d be open to any role. Lead, understudy, or ensemble.”

Jeez, she really does carry herself well.

“Sounds good...” After another scribbled note, Olson waved at her to continue. “Alright, whenever you’re ready.”

Her shoulders rose with a deep breath and she closed her eyes. It stayed that way for a second, and I couldn’t help but continue to admire her. It took strength to be that calm in front of a crowd.

She’s looks so natural up there, almost like that stage was built for her...

When her eyes opened, it’s like she’d transformed into an entirely new person. Her expression radiated innocence and her eyes filled with life, even more so than usual.

Then, she started to speak from a scene we hadn’t heard at all today. It was one where the prince or princess would come across the witch for the first time; this was a powerful and somewhat challenging scene, as the actor needed to portray multiple emotions at once while still keeping themselves under a neutral mask.

A minute passed, and then two, and then maybe even three. I had no idea. But, what I did know for sure, was that her acting was out of this world.

From what she’d put forth so far, it looked like she’d barely broken a sweat. Her voice was perfect and her control on her emotions was even better. She wasn’t overconfident, but calm. She was a force to be reckoned with on that stage, and it was equally empowering and terrifying. She had so much power, so much passion, so much potential...

She had everything we were looking for in this role.

Olson leaned over with wide eyes. “Wow. I...would like to believe we just found our princess.”

I couldn’t help but smile when the response left my mouth. “Absolutely.”

Then, the sudden horror dawned on me.

Princess. Charlotte...was princess.

*

*

It’d only been about ten minutes after she left the stage with a polite bow and dazzling smile that the entire auditorium started to empty out. Only a few stragglers were talking by the stage or the exits.

One of them in particular smiled and sped over to me.

“Ajay,” Charlotte grinned, “hi.”

“Charlotte,” I responded, “how’re you?”

She puffed out her rosy cheeks before letting the air out in a long sigh.

“So tired,” She was lightly laughing now. It was a little out of place, but it was cute. “Since I just decided to audition a few days ago, I’ve been pulling all-nighters with Leila to get my lines right.”

I feigned a smile and let a white lie slip through my teeth. “I’m glad you decided to audition.”

“Me too. I’m excited to see your directing skills in action,” She said this with a wink, “because it’s all I ever hear about from Rory.”

“Really?” Why does he talk about my directing...?

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “He gushes about how great of a director you are, like, all the time. You really haven’t heard any of this?”

I gave her a deadpan look, and she huffed out a laugh.

“Well, you should ask him about it. I’m sure he’d gladly tell you about how amazing you are,” she said thoughtfully, “he looks up to you, you know. It’s easy to see by the way he talks about you.”

I can’t imagine why...

“That’s surpris--” Before I could get through my sentence, I watched Charlotte stumble forward into me. Everything felt like it’d been in slow motion; her eyes widening slowly as her arms opened to hold onto me. Without another thought, mine did the same, wrapping around her small form carefully.

“Whoa!” Charlotte gasped with her arms tight around my torso and cheek pressed against my chest. I felt my heart start to pound, so I started worrying she could feel it thumping against her cheek.

The sound of laughter could be heard behind her, and when I looked up, I caught a glimpse of Danielle and a few others sauntering away. I glared at their backs, my grip on Charlotte tightening by a fraction.

Danielle better keep to herself from now on, because if that happens again--

The thought made a snarl appear on my face, and I quickly shook it away.

“You okay?” I asked, instantly feeling her rapid nod against my chest. I expected her to move...but she didn’t.

“Y-Yeah, just caught off-guard, um, I’m good.” Her voice sounded panicked. She pulled away from me slowly, looking up into my eyes with a deep red blush. “Thanks for not letting me fall.”

“Well, you didn’t really give me a choice.” I teased, watching her eyes widen for a second before she looked away.

“Right. Well. Uh, I should probably get going. I already have a ton of homework,” she hummed, smiling once more, “I’ll see you...sometime this week?”

I nodded, returning her smile. My heart felt like it was floating.

“Of course. Good night, Charlotte.”

“G’night,” She smiled and waved, awkwardly walking out the door. This whole goodbye thing felt like the new normal - that is, watching her run off while I stay glued to my spot, still living in the previous moment and imagining her eyes, her voice, her smile--

“Ajay! C’mon, man,” Rory shouted from the stage, “let’s go get dinner before we starve.”

It was like I snapped from a daze when I blinked.

The effect she had on me was maddening, but I realized I couldn’t get enough of it. Everything about her was just so frustratingly perfect--

“I’m in the mood for some absurdly overpriced pizza,” I said abruptly, walking with Rory out into the cool September night air. He laughed, nodding in agreement.

“Ohhhh, me too!”

I could swear the scent of her perfume drifted along in the breeze, but that was probably just my mind playing tricks on me.

*

*

It was hard to fall asleep that night. Maybe...maybe greasy pizza wasn’t the best idea.

I kept flipping over, hoping to find that one magical position and miraculously succumb to sleep.

But I just couldn’t get her out of my head.

This shouldn’t even be happening. Why did I let this happen? She was definitely involved with the show now. My rule still applies to me!

But...Charlotte. Sweet, kind, talented Charlotte.

Ug. The temptation to scream into my pillow was terrifyingly high.

For the love of...

Then, a thought. With a blink, I reached over to grab my glasses and a pen. After I turned my phone’s flashlight on, the feeling of a leather book from underneath my pillow brushed against my fingers. At the feeling, I sighed.

*

*

September 17th, 2020

Dear Diary...

Why does life have to be so complicated?

*

*

It wasn’t anything extensive, but my brain felt tired after writing all of that. So...short entry it was. Oh, did I sign it?

Too late. It was already closed.

I still felt like I was going to explode, but it was less severe than before. Progress. Maybe I could fall asleep now.

When I put everything back and folded my glasses, my head dreadfully hit the pillow with a soft thud. To make matters even better, I thought about her audition. How it was breathtakingly powerful and absolutely stunning. About how her voice was perfect for the part. About how...

It’s going to be a long night.