#i fear we will be too strong together and come up with a text so cursed anyone that reads it will instantly collapse

[castielsprostate]

bestie sjonnie... it is me isaac faithdeans... just here to say that i still haven't met you yet but boy do i miss you!!! okay byeeee

bff isaac, my beloved faithdeans, i am typing this as sjonnie, castiel his prostate, with literal tears in my eyes as i havent met you yet either but i miss you too???????? so much?????????? the heart works in ways i am not meant to understand. but i yearn for our cursed energy to collide in real life

[fgumi]

ꕥ old friend; — sunghoon one shot, wc: 3.5k, genre: angst, fluff

you were nine years old when you first met sunghoon on the ice. both of you were young competitors, skating in the same circles, and it didn’t take long for a bond to form. while the other skaters focused on perfecting their moves under their mothers’ watchful eyes, you and sunghoon found solace in each other. there was something comforting about sharing the ice with someone who understood the isolation that came with the sport.

as the years passed, your friendship grew stronger. you’d spend hours practicing together, pushing each other to be better. when you weren’t on the ice, you were talking about everything from skating techniques to your favorite snacks. you both dreamed of making it big—of competing internationally and one day, standing on the same podium.

when you were fifteen, your mother asked if you’d consider representing the usa in women’s figure skating at the olympics. you had dual citizenship, and the opportunity was too good to pass up. excited but nervous, you told sunghoon about it. he was disappointed, of course—how could he not be?—but he was happy for you, promising that one day, you’d share the ice in an international setting.

“i’m going to miss you,” he admitted quietly one day after practice, his gaze lingering on you longer than usual. there was something unspoken in the way he looked at you—something that made your heart flutter. “it won’t be the same without you.”

“i’ll miss you too,” you replied, feeling a strange mix of excitement and sadness. “but i’ll come back every summer. we’ll still skate together.”

“yeah,” he said, offering you a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “we will.”

that was the beginning of a new chapter in your life. you visited russia for training, and although you kept in touch with sunghoon, the distance made it difficult. over the summers, you’d return to korea, and you’d hang out with him as much as you could. each time you saw him, you couldn’t help but notice how he had changed—how he had grown taller, his features sharper, more mature. it made your heart skip a beat in ways you didn’t fully understand.

in 2018, sunghoon told you that he was beginning training as an idol with bighit entertainment, hoping it would benefit his routines on the ice. you supported him, but deep down, you had your suspicions that this might not turn out the way he wanted. you didn’t say it, but a part of you feared that he might drift even further away from you.

your fears were confirmed when, in 2019, sunghoon texted you to say he was quitting skating. you were taken aback, hiding your disappointment as you assured him that you’d back his decision no matter what. “i’m really proud of you, you know,” you said during one of your last phone calls before his final competition. “but i wish i could be there to see it.”

“me too,” he replied, his voice tinged with regret. “it would have been nice… to have you there.”

what you didn’t tell him was that you were flying to korea to see his final performance in person.

the arena was quieter than usual as you slipped into the bleachers, the familiar chill of the ice rink seeping through your jacket. this time, the quiet wasn’t due to the lack of spectators but the weight of the moment—a final performance from someone who had meant so much to you.

as you sat with the small piplup plushie clutched in your hands, memories of the two of you as children on the ice flooded back. you and sunghoon had been inseparable, two kids who found each other amidst the grueling world of competitive figure skating. even as you moved to the usa for training and he remained in korea, the bond you shared remained strong.

now, as you watched sunghoon take the ice for what would be the last time, your heart ached. he moved with the same grace and precision that had always set him apart, but there was something different now—something heavier. the music began, the soft strains of “you are the reason” by calum scott filling the arena, and you could feel the weight of his emotions in every movement.

his jumps were clean, his spins flawless, but there was a loneliness in his routine that tugged at your heart. as he skated, you could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle between his love for the sport and the decision he had made to leave it behind. each glide across the ice seemed to carry a finality that made your chest tighten.

you held your breath as he approached his final jump, a triple axel that he had executed perfectly a thousand times before. he landed it cleanly, but as he skated into his final pose, you could see the exhaustion on his face—not just physical, but emotional as well. the music faded, and for a moment, there was silence.

then, the arena erupted in applause. the sound was deafening, but all you could do was stand there, your hands trembling as you cheered loudly, pouring every ounce of your support into that one moment. with a quick flick of your wrist, you tossed the piplup plushie onto the ice, your heart pounding as you watched it skid to a stop near his skates.

sunghoon turned, his eyes scanning the crowd until they landed on you. for a brief moment, he looked confused, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. then, as recognition dawned, his expression shifted from surprise to something softer, more vulnerable. his eyes widened, and a smile slowly spread across his face, bright and genuine. he bent down to pick up the plushie, holding it close as he scanned the crowd again, his gaze locking onto yours.

it was as if the entire arena fell away, leaving just the two of you in that moment. you could see the gratitude in his eyes, the unspoken words of thanks for being there when he needed it most. as he skated toward the kiss and cry, you could see the weight of his decision settling over him, the realization that this truly was the end of his journey on the ice.

as his scores were announced, you watched him nod, his expression a mixture of relief and resignation. the applause continued, but you could see the finality in his eyes. this was it—the last time he would hear those scores, the last time he would sit in that chair as a competitor.

the moment he stepped off the ice, you rushed to meet him. without hesitation, you threw yourself into his arms, and he caught you in a tight embrace. “you came,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, his breath warm against your ear.

“of course, i did,” you replied, your own voice trembling as tears threatened to spill over. “i wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

you pulled back just enough to look at him, and in that moment, the years of distance, the missed conversations, all seemed to melt away. you were kids again, sharing the ice, finding comfort in each other’s company. you saw the tears in his eyes, mirroring your own, and for a brief moment, everything else faded away.

“you didn’t have to come all this way,” sunghoon said softly, his voice tinged with disbelief.

you smiled, wiping at your eyes. “yes, i did. i wanted to see you skate one last time.”

his grip tightened around you, and for a long moment, neither of you said anything. the silence was heavy with unspoken words, with the realization that this chapter of his life was closing.

over the next few days, you spent as much time together as possible. you reminisced about old times, shared memories of competitions, and even took to the ice together one last time. there was a lingering closeness between you that hadn’t been there before—moments where his hand would brush against yours, or his gaze would linger just a little too long. it was bittersweet, knowing that this was the end of an era, but it was also comforting, knowing that you were there for him during this pivotal moment in his life.

but all too soon, it was time for you to return to the us. the goodbye was harder than you expected, filled with promises to stay in touch, though you both knew how difficult that would be. as you boarded the plane back to the us, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness, knowing that things would never be the same.

your communication with him grew more sparse after that. distance and time had created a gap between you, one that had only widened after he began training as an idol. you tried not to take it personally, but it felt like he was cutting you off, much like he had with figure skating. when i-land aired in 2020, you recognized sunghoon immediately and supported him from afar, voting and cheering him on as he pursued his new dream. seeing him on the ice again during the free day segment nearly brought you to tears—he looked happier than ever, and it warmed your heart.

with multiple competitions lining up, you threw yourself into training, working tirelessly toward your goal: the 2022 beijing winter olympics. it was a grueling process, but it paid off. you won the silver medal, making history as the first american woman to medal in figure skating in nearly 20 years. the accomplishment was incredible, but even as you stood on the podium, a part of you wished sunghoon could have been there to see it.

what you didn’t know was that he was watching—every second of it.

back in korea, sunghoon had made it clear to the other members that they would not be changing the channel under any circumstances. enhypen was gathered in the dorm’s living room, the tv tuned to the olympics, and sunghoon was glued to the screen, gripping the remote tightly as if his life depended on it.

“hyung, we’ve been watching this for hours,” ni-ki whined, trying to grab the remote. “can’t we switch to something else?”

“no,” sunghoon said sharply, holding the remote out of reach. “she’s about to skate.”

the other members exchanged curious glances but didn’t press further. as your name appeared on the screen, sunghoon’s focus intensified. he held his breath as you took your starting position, his eyes never leaving the screen.

every jump, every spin, every glide across the ice was met with a mixture of awe and tension from sunghoon. he held his breath at every attempt at a technical skill, his knuckles white as he gripped the remote. when you landed your triple lutz-triple toe combination flawlessly, he let out a small sigh of relief, his chest tightening with pride.

“she’s incredible,” jake muttered, impressed by your performance.

“she’s always been,” sunghoon replied softly, his voice filled with admiration.

as your program continued, sunghoon watched with bated breath, appreciating every element of your artistry. he knew the dedication it took to get to this level, and he could see it in every movement you made. when you struck your final pose, the applause from the audience was thunderous, but sunghoon could barely hear it over the pounding of his own heart.

then came the waiting—the excruciating moments before your scores were announced. sunghoon leaned forward, his eyes glued to the screen, his heart racing. when the scores finally flashed across the screen, confirming your silver medal, sunghoon’s breath hitched. his eyes filled with tears, and before he knew it, they were spilling down his cheeks.

the room fell silent as the other members noticed sunghoon’s reaction. they watched, concerned, as he wiped at his eyes, trying to compose himself. “hyung… are you okay?” jungwon asked gently.

sunghoon nodded, still struggling to keep his emotions in check. “she… she was my childhood best friend,” he explained, his voice trembling. “we used to skate together. we were always together on the ice. but… we lost touch after i had to replace my phone.”

the members’ concern shifted to understanding, and they offered quiet words of support. they had never seen sunghoon so emotional, so vulnerable, and it was clear just how much you meant to him.

“i’m sure she’d be proud to know you were watching,” jay said, giving sunghoon a reassuring pat on the back.

sunghoon smiled through his tears, nodding. “yeah… i hope so.”

after the olympics, you decided to spend three months in korea to celebrate and reconnect with the country you’d once called home. during your stay, enhypen was promoting their manifesto album, and you thought about how funny it would be if you got the chance to go to their fan sign—until it actually happened. when you called your mom about the invitation panicking, she shrugged and said, “do whatever feels right.”

so you decided to go—you were fans of the other members too. as you approached the table where the members were seated, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. the boys recognized you immediately, their faces lighting up with surprise.

“you’re… you’re the olympic silver medalist, right?” jake asked, eyes wide with admiration.

you nodded, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. “that’s me.”

“sunghoon always talked about you,” jay added with a grin. “you’re the only women’s figure skater he ever watched.”

you laughed, a little embarrassed but flattered nonetheless. “i didn’t know i had such a dedicated fan.”

as you moved down the line, jungwon was next, leaning in slightly with a curious expression. “he made us all watch your short program,” he said with a warm smile. “he wouldn’t let anyone change the channel.”

“he even threatened to hide the remote if we didn’t stop complaining,” ni-ki tattled with a playful grin when you reached him.

you couldn’t help but laugh at the image of sunghoon fiercely guarding the remote. “that sounds like him,” you said fondly.

sunoo, who was next in line, chimed in with a teasing tone, “when you landed that triple lutz-triple toe, i thought he was going to pass out from relief.”

heeseung, who was seated next to sunoo, nodded in agreement. “and when you got the silver medal, he cried. we were all kind of shocked… until he told us about you.”

you felt a warmth spread through your chest at their words, touched by the idea that sunghoon had been so invested in your performance. “i didn’t know he still cared so much,” you admitted, your voice soft.

“of course he does,” heeseung said, sincere and reassuring. “he’s talked about you a lot over the past few months. he was really proud of you.”

after making small talk with each member, you finally reached sunghoon. he didn’t register you at first, focused on signing your album. but when he looked up and saw you, his smile faded into an ‘o’ shape, eyes wide with shock.

“hi,” you said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“h-hello,” he mumbled, still trying to process who was sitting in front of him.

“it’s been a while,” you said, trying to ease the tension. he nodded, clearly still in disbelief, so you nudged his hand on the table to bring him back to reality.

a blush crept up his cheeks as he finally snapped out of his daze. “i… i didn’t expect to see you here.”

“well, i am a fan,” you teased, hoping to lighten the mood.

he stammered through compliments about your short program at the olympics, his usual confidence shattered by the unexpected reunion. you both tried to catch up in the short time you had, but before you knew it, it was time for you to go. just as you were about to leave, sunghoon quickly scribbled his number on your album.

“i’m really sorry for not texting you… all this time,” he said quietly. “i’ll explain everything if you give me a chance?”

you gave him a small, reassuring smile and nodded. “i’ll text you.”

later that day, as you sat in your hotel room, you found yourself staring at sunghoon’s number written on the album. with a deep breath, you typed out a message.

hey, it’s me. it was really good to see you today.

you hit send before you could overthink it. to your surprise, sunghoon’s reply came almost immediately.

it was good to see you too. i missed you.

a small smile tugged at your lips as you read his message. i missed you too. so... what happened?

there was a pause before his next message came through. i’m sorry. i broke my phone during training and lost all my contacts. i didn’t know how to reach out to you after that.

you felt a pang of guilt. i thought you had cut me off after you quit figure skating. i was worried.

no, never, sunghoon replied quickly. you were my best friend. i would never do that to you.

your heart warmed at his words. i’m glad to hear that. it was hard not hearing from you… especially after you stopped skating.

it was hard for me too, he admitted. i wasn’t sure if i made the right choice. but seeing you skate at the olympics… it reminded me of why i loved it so much. i’m so proud of you.

you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. thank you, sunghoon. that means a lot coming from you.

you deserve it. you were always the better skater, he replied, a touch of teasing in his words.

you laughed softly, shaking your head. you were always so competitive. but we were both good in our own ways.

yeah, we were, he agreed. maybe one day we can skate together again, just for old times’ sake.

i’d like that, you typed, smiling at the thought. but only if you promise not to outshine me.

no promises, he teased back. but i’ll try my best.

there was a comfortable silence between the two of you for a moment, and then sunghoon sent another message.

are you free tomorrow? maybe we could catch up properly.

you hesitated for a moment, thinking about your schedule, but then you decided that spending time with sunghoon was worth rearranging a few things.

i’m free, you replied. where do you want to meet?

how about the ice rink? he suggested. just like old times.

your heart skipped a beat at the idea. sounds perfect. i’ll see you there.

the next day, you arrived at the rink a little early, the familiar chill in the air bringing back a flood of memories. it wasn’t long before sunghoon showed up, a bright smile on his face as he approached you.

“i’m glad you came,” he said, his voice soft but filled with warmth.

“i’m glad you asked,” you replied, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

you both laced up your skates in comfortable silence, and as you stepped onto the ice, it was as if no time had passed at all. the two of you fell into an easy rhythm, skating side by side, occasionally exchanging glances that spoke volumes.

“i missed this,” sunghoon admitted after a while, his gaze focused on the ice ahead. “skating with you. it feels right.”

“it does,” you agreed, your voice soft. “i’ve missed it too.”

you skated in silence for a few more minutes before sunghoon spoke again. “i was serious, you know. about being proud of you. when i watched you at the olympics… i was so happy for you. i knew you would make it.”

you looked over at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “thank you, sunghoon. that means more than you know.”

he smiled, a hint of his old competitive spirit shining through. “but just so you know… if i were still skating, i’d be aiming for that gold.”

you laughed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “i wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

as the two of you continued to skate, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for this moment—for the chance to reconnect with someone who had been such an important part of your life. it wasn’t just about the skating; it was about the bond you shared, one that had withstood time and distance.

“so, what’s next for you?” sunghoon asked as you both slowed to a stop, leaning against the boards.

“i’m not sure,” you admitted. “i’m taking a break for now, but i’ll probably start training again soon.”

“you’ve earned that break,” he said, his tone serious. “but if you ever need someone to skate with… you know where to find me.”

“i’ll hold you to that,” you replied with a smile.

as you both left the rink that day, you knew that things had changed, but in the best way possible. your friendship had been rekindled, stronger than before, and no matter what the future held, you were certain that you’d always have each other.

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. a/n: i love figure skater sunghoon... but i love enhypen's sunghoon more... ✧ comments are appreciated! ✧ !nanamlist

[perfectlyoongi]

LONG-DISTANCE!JUNGKOOK who has breakfast on video call with you. as soon as he woke up, Jungkook didn’t have time to feel sleepy; leaving as quickly as possible, Jungkook showered and dressed almost at the same time, quickly making his bed, only to run to the kitchen at the end of it all. Jungkook would call you as soon as he was done and it was always with a wide smile that he greeted you. with bright eyes and outstretched arms, Jungkook beamed when he saw you, offering you a hug that couldn’t happen, showing the impact you had on Jungkook’s morning, on Jungkook’s life. “good morning, cupcake! today i had an incredible dream about you. we were on a boat on some beach in…”

LONG-DISTANCE!JUNGKOOK who reminds you every day why he waits for you. whether by call or message, there wasn’t a day that went by that Jungkook didn’t give you the poems that were written in his heart. the gods had blessed Jungkook with their voices, making Jungkook recite the oldest songs in the world. the stars had showered Jungkook with their light, making Jungkook whisper the most ambitious promises in the world. the universe had gifted Jungkook with your soul, making Jungkook love your most beautiful essence. it was only natural for him to proclaim all the thoughts that invaded his heart and made him completely desperate to love you. “it took me years to meet you, but when that day came, i understood why it took me so long. what i feel for you is too intense to be contained within me. the gods feared my love would break my heart, so they only gave me to you when they knew i could contain it. because now that i know you and know that you love me, i can keep all my feelings for you within myself and always hope that the day comes when i can break it free.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JUNGKOOK who watches romance movies with you and always says that you are the main couple. from silent films, to hollywood classics and ending with the most recent romantic ones, a variety of films and couples entertain you for hours, making you laugh with their adventures, making you dream with their love. and in every couple, Jungkook saw the two of you: walking on the beach, having dinner out, dancing in the rain, it was impossible for him not to imagine you in the actors’ place — and, oh, how he would give anything to take their places. “oh, oh, oh! he’s going to run to her. i’m sure. that’s what i would do to you, so he has to do it. he has to tell her he loves her!”

LONG-DISTANCE!JUNGKOOK who buys your favorite food brands just to make you happy when he taste them. whenever you text him that you’re going to try a new brand or food, Jungkook waits patiently for your review. always wanting to be close to you, it was in food that Jungkook found some comfort; so, in the brands you talked about the most, in the brands you ate the most, Jungkook bought them for himself too, getting lost in their delicious flavors, feeling a little closer to you until you could eat together. “i passed by the supermarket and saw your favorite brand of juice there. brought your favorite flavor to try. if i don’t like it, you have to pay for my therapy.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JUNGKOOK who calls you his moon. just like the moon, you were beautiful. you brought with you reflections of the sun that made you shine with the intensity of someone who conquers a life. just like the moon, you went through stages that slowly fed your soul to make it grow as strong as possible. just like the moon, you were constant, always there for Jungkook, always listening to all of his most morbid laments. just like the moon, you were magic. and Jungkook only managed to understand the fascination of the moon when you came into his life and became the owner of his moon. “the oldest love story is between the moon and the sun. the gods created these two lovers and forced them to live apart because their love was too much. and you are my moon. the only lover i want and the one who is far from me. but if the moon and the sun can meet five times a year, we will also be able to live our love.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JUNGKOOK who describes the sky to you whenever he was most needy. there were days when the distance hurt more, whole days when Jungkook just imagined himself by your side, resting by your side, living by your side. and on those loneliest days, where all the kilometers became entire eternities, Jungkook would call you, hoping that your voice would be enough to calm his heart. and when words were too complex to exchange, he would just look up at the sky and describe it to you, taking comfort in the fact that you were under the same stars as him. “the sky is blue today. a beautiful blue. that blue that makes you dream. a blue that fills you from the inside and takes you to travel in its white clouds. today the sky is really beautiful. you would like to see it with me.”

LONG-DISTANCE!JUNGKOOK who only said he loved you when he was with you for the first time. when the day came that the two of you were finally together, all the gods sang you songs and all the stars rained their magic down on you to bless your relationship with everlasting love. it was when the two of you were together for the first time that Jungkook allowed his heart to open and find refuge in your soul, welcoming your essence within him, sharing the same flame of passion with you. finally you were together. finally Jungkook could say everything he had kept to himself during these eternities. finally Jungkook said “i love you. i love you so much. but so, so much.”

[narislvr]

── simp!abby drabble p.2 ₊˚ෆ

,, cws? none. pure fluff ౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ ── 750 words.

,, abby x fem!reader ♡ / college au

ᝰ.ᐟ continuation of this post !! -> pt III

₊˚ෆsimp!abby who can't help but fall in love all over as you doze off in her arms.

──

abby's not the type to fall easily. whether it be from the fear of getting hurt or her own stubborn want to focus on building her career and herself, romance just hadn't been a critical necessity in her life. but in the rare chance she does, she falls hard.

she had convinced you to spend the night at her dorm room, her roommate had gone out for the night leaving the room to her disposal and what better way to end the night than to have you wrapped in her arms?

you had protested at first, not wanting to keep her from being well rested for the annoyingly early class she had the next morning.

but fuck, the way she looked at you with a pleading glint in her eyes followed by the gentle kiss to the corner of your lips as she promised this would only help her rest better, had you giving in with a defeated smile.

strong arms wrapped around your waist as she buried her face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the remnants of the soft vanilla scented body spray while you quietly spoke about something she wasn't entirely paying attention to.

not that she didn't want to pay attention.

she just couldn't.

how could she when the woman of her dreams was laying beside her? on her bed, back hitting her chest as you wore one of her old Bruce Springsteen t-shirts in order to not wrinkle the pretty top you had been wearing earlier. (in reality she just wanted to see you in her clothes, but she wouldn't admit it when you jokingly teased her about it.)

It just all seemed so surreal to her.

Like, how in the world had she gotten so lucky?

sure, she had always cringed at the "lesbians move fast" stereotype finding it rather silly and unsenseicle, but in that moment she completely understood why.

as your voice became nothing more than a sleepy mumble, abby couldn't help but imagine future mornings where you two would be in the same position in your shared bed, under the roof of your own house, a dog laying at the foot of your bed as she talked about her day, you humming in response as you turned to face your then wife, cutting off her ramble with a tired kiss.

was she getting ahead of herself? Oh definitely.

and yet she couldn't help but long for that future to come true.

she’d only known you for a little over five months, but she already knew she wanted matching stockings by the fireplace, stolen kisses under the first snow, the smell of morning coffee, your charming smile as you woke up beside her, and she hoped you wanted that too.

the thought of all that alone was enough to send her into a lulling sleep. the best she's had in a while honestly, and she'd use that the following morning with a playful "I told you so" as she poked fun at your earlier hesitancy of staying over.

──

"thought your first class was at seven, why the hell is your alarm on for five?" you groan, woken up by abbys morning alarm as you turn to face your equally tired and sheepish girlfriend.

"morning run, hon. It's a good way to start the day," abby would hum, placing a sleepy kiss to your forehead in apology.

there was no morning run that day however, as she instead decided to sleep in another hour and set another alarm to get ready for class later.

──

“text me when you get to your dorm, alright? I’ll let you know when i get back from my last class so we can have lunch together.”

“i will, don’t worry, abbs. see you later then?”

she would rather spend the day cuddled up in bed with you, but alas, she couldn’t be too greedy, so instead she nods. her hands come up to caress your cheeks gently, pressing yet another kiss to her forehead as she smiles down at you. she only pulls away as you tease her that she’s going to be late, and even then, it was begrudgingly.

as she leaves the building, she can’t help the dopey smile on her face as the cool winter air hits her skin.

god, you had her wrapped around her finger and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

[kkami-writes]

waiting for us — chapter thirty five. in the rain cw. light breakdown wc. 1k + 2 ss

How long have you been sitting here? Curled up on a slab of concrete next to the vast field of the park. It’s too much. Your fears, your insecurities, there’s a looming darkness hovering over you, ready to strike when you’re weak. Why now? You had been having so much fun with them, finally lowering your walls and trying to let them in. But you could still hear your brothers voice in the back of your head, poisoning you slowly.

Seeing all of them today had just cemented the fact that you had fallen in love with these boys. You hadn’t even been on all of your solo dates yet, but you knew that it was inevitable and it scared the shit out of you. Blunt fingernails dig into the flesh of your upper arms, trying to pull yourself together but nothing had seemed to work. You were spiraling fast.

You had promised though, that when it was getting bad you’d text someone. So you had messaged the one who’d understand the most.

By the time Jisung finally shows up it’s already started to sprinkle just a little but it doesn’t bother him. You are far more important than a little rain. He feels like his heart might shatter at the sight of you, looking so small as you bundle into yourself. Jisung doesn’t want to frighten you so he just sits down next to you quietly, not touching you even though he just wants to scoop you up into a hug and shield you from the world that had hurt you so much.

“Hi…” You’re able to mumble out but you don’t look at him.

“Hi baby. Do you want to talk about it?” You shrug. “Was it today? Were we too much? I was a little scared we were pushing it a bit,” Just hearing his voice is soothing, instantly comforting you and you peak up at him from your safe little ball.

“No. It’s..not that. I just. I don’t know…I’m just so scared,”

“Mm, scared of what baby?” You’re trying to find the right words to say and Jisung is nothing but patient, letting you take all the time you need. He’s been so incredible to you, so understanding and sweet that you find yourself being honest. All your emotions spilling out at once before you can stop it.

“I’m- I’m so scared because I know I’m falling so in love with you guys and I’m scared that the more you get to know me the more you’ll realize that you were just in love with the idea of me. That you’ll realize you could never love someone like me,” You curl yourself back up, voice wavering with tears you’re so desperately not trying to shed.

Jisung is suddenly in front of you, tugging your arms to pull them away from you. Once he’s untangled you, he’s cupping your cheeks and pushing your chin up so you can stare at him.

“Silly girl. Don’t you know that we’re all already so in love with you? We have been before we even knew you were really our soulmate. We love all of you. Both the good and the bad. I know we’re still learning about you but I can promise there’s nothing you could tell us that would make us love you less. We love how strong you are, how willing you are to let us all in. We know how difficult this is for you and it’s something we all struggled with. But I hope you know that we’re in this for the long run. Sorry but you can’t get rid of us. Thirty day return policy. Besides, you could tell us you committed murder and we’d all say they probably deserved it. Pretty sure Minho knows where to hide a body. Hell, Seungmin would probably commit murder FOR you. Wouldn’t even have to lift a finger baby,” This gets a snort out of you and he beams down at you.

“There’s that cute laugh,” He hums, tucking some hair behind your ear. “It’s okay to not be okay sometimes. We all have those days and we’re always gonna be here for you when you’re down but please don’t ever doubt our feelings for you,” All you can do is nod your head.

By this point, it’s raining pretty hard, effectively soaking both of you but neither of you seem to care all that much.

“Now come on, lets get you out of the rain and into a warm shower. If you catch a cold it’s gonna be me that we bury next because Minho will kill me. Will you tell them I slayed at my funeral?”

“Ha, don’t worry I’ll let them all know you served cunt baby girl. But that won’t happen, I’m sure I can work some magic against Minho,” Jisung laughs.

“Ah, my savior,” He helps you up off the concrete and moves to guide you back towards his car. You stop in your steps though and it makes Jisung pause, turning back to look at you. “What’s up?”

You don’t know if it’s because your emotions are still running haywire or Jisung’s speech but you just can’t hold yourself back anymore. You reach out to wrap your fingers around the collar of his hoodie and pull him down to you, gently placing your lips against his.

He seems for frozen for a second before melting against you, arms coming to wrap around your middle to pull you even closer. You’re a little clumsy with your lips but Jisung makes up for it as he guides you through it, his lips moving rather expertly. When you pull away you’re panting softly, having forgotten to breathe. Jisung can’t help but place a few more kisses against your lips and it has you blushing. Mostly because you can’t believe you just did that.

“Was….that your first?” You look away, unable to look him in the eyes as you nod. If possible his smile gets even bigger. “You are so adorable,” Jisung hums, slipping his hands into yours. He’s back to pulling you to the car. “Ok but seriously, you’re soaked. We need to get you out of the rain asap. You can have more kisses later,”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying. Can I take it back?”

“Nope. Hyunjin bragged about you kissing his cheek. I cannot WAIT to rub it in his face that I was your first kiss,”

“You guys are about to be unbearable aren’t you?”

“Oh yeah,”

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[ellephlox]

Strawberry Rhubarb

Summary: You get kidnapped by Fisk.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Warnings (please read this entire list before proceeding!): Violence, blood, forced nudity, physical assault, torture, feelings of inadequacy, torture with knife, strong profanity, burning, stabbing, concussion.

A/N: This is set sometime in S2 when Fisk doesn't know for certain that Matt is Daredevil, but he is suspicious of him and definitely doesn't like him.

Also, it's a bit long, so I skimmed it for mistakes, but that's it. I'm at the airport because I have to fly home for a family emergency and I'm too tired to bother reading through critically lol

Everything was pitch black, except for a thin band of light, directly in front of your eyes.

You squinted, thinking at first that it was light coming underneath the bedroom door; had you left the kitchen lights on? But it was too high up to be the floor. Your phone, then. Your phone must have lit up with a notification and you could just see the light underneath it.

And then you realized there was a cloth around your head. For one wild moment, you thought Matt had put his black mask on you, and that this was something intimate that he was initiating, but something about it didn't feel right. The cloth was wrapped too tightly, for one, and the slit of light that you could see suggested that it was ripped in the center, and Matt's mask had no tears in it. Vaguely you remembered walking into the post office to mail out a letter, and something hitting you hard in the back of the head, but everything else was blank.

A gruff voice spoke. "Is she awake, Hanson?"

"Vitals suggest she's conscious," a cool voice responded. "Should I proceed?"

"Yes. You got into her phone?"

"I had Underwood hack it within five minutes. Passcode has been disabled."

"Good. We'll send a warning to to him. From what I anticipate, he'll be willing to come here of his own accord."

Fisk. Dazedly, you placed the voice as Fisk, and the cooler voice as some unnamed assistant. Your heart lurched, thrumming so hard that you thought it might burst out from your ribcage. All rational thoughts had abandoned you; never had you and Matt discussed what to do if someone ever kidnapped you. Sure, you'd had conversations about self-defense and fighting techniques; there had been the random nights that Matt tried in vain to teach you had to send a proper roundhouse kick at an assailant. And of course you'd nagged him about what the plan was if he was to ever get kidnapped by someone he was trying to take down.

But this scenario? It had never even crossed your mind, and the panic of having no idea what to do was gnawing at you.

The person on your left, with the cooler voice — Hanson — stepped forward and ripped off the black mask that was wrapped around your head. You blinked at the blinding light, unable to see for a moment until your eyes adjusted.

Hanson, a wiry man with a receding hairline, was appraising you. He held your phone, and a thrill of fear flashed through you at what texts or photos might be incriminating on there. "Should I send a video, sir? Or would a phone call be more effective?" he asked.

"Underwood's search of Mr. Murdock's files suggest that he has no light perception, though we're still uncertain as to whether forged notes and doctor intervention could have fabricated those documents," Fisk said, his face twitching. "Send an audio message instead. A picture may be a worth a thousand words, but hearing, on the other hand... that's exponentially more powerful, is it not? To be on the safe side; we want to ensure that Mr. Murdock receives our message."

"Understood, sir."

You closed your eyes as your brain tried to catch up with what was happening. If Fisk kidnapped you, did that mean he knew Matt was Daredevil? You tried futilely to think of a way that he could have found out, but came up with nothing. Matt had pissed Fisk off recently; he'd told you that things had gone sideways when they spoke together, and it ended with fists flying.

But he couldn't know Matt was Daredevil. You told yourself this over and over again in an attempt to calm yourself down. Besides, you didn't have hardly any texts with Matt that they could read, you realized — you had mercifully cleaned out your phone to get more storage just the other day. That also meant you'd saved your photos to a different drive and deleted them off your phone. Hope burgeoned in your chest.

Matt's identity isn't entirely doomed because I was stupid enough to get kidnapped.

"You may begin, Hanson," Fisk said, folding his hands together, and the same lightning strike of panic went to your core.

"Wait." Your mouth was dry from disuse. Playing dumb had to be the best course of action; at least, it was the only plan you could think of in your muddled state. "I can give you money, I swear, I have cash in my wallet — you can take my credit cards, I don't care, please just let me go." The end of your sentence finished with a sob, and you didn't need to act at all for that to come out naturally.

"If Murdock comes on your behalf, then we'll let you go," Hanson said flatly. "You'd better hope that your boyfriend truly cares about you."

"Boyfriend?" You drew in your eyebrows. "I swear, I know of Murdock — friend of a friend, invited a few of us over to his place once or twice — but I have nothing to do with him! If he's involved in something illegal — or, I don't know, something with you folks — I don't know about it, please believe me — just let me go—"

Fisk sat down on the chair in front of you, settling himself in slowly. His eyes bored a hole into your skull and you couldn't help but look down at his shoes. "You think I do things lightly, Miss L/N?"

"I don't know. I don't know who you are or what you do."

"I've always found that those who are methodical will always win. Funny, really, that Aesop could articulate such a fundamental principle with a puerile story. When I was a boy, I wanted the hare to win. I didn't think it was fair that the tortoise should enjoy victory when it was the hare who seemingly had the predisposition, the potential, the skillset to win. But I learned. I discovered, through my own folly and mistakes, that it is not the person with the most resources who gets to the top. It's the one who strategizes, the one who is thorough."

"I don't understand." You were shaking where you sat; you could feel the muscles in your hands jumping as tension stretched taut through you.

"Let me spell it out for you, Miss L/N. When I want to win, I take my time. And I took my time in getting to know you. I've seen your family, your yearbook photos, the first job you had. I've read your college recommendations and seen your SAT scores. I've spoken to your therapist and friends. I know the exact day that you began seeing Matthew Murdock and I have footage of all the dates you've ever been on with him. So, when I suggest that you do not try lying to me, I am recommending it for your own sake, lest you want to lose your tongue."

Never had you felt so cornered in your life. Fisk sat in front of you like the opposite of light at the end of the tunnel — he was a black hole, sucking every bit of hope from the room, and in that moment you were certain you would not leave this room alive, and a silent voice within you begged that at least it wouldn't be messy, for Matt's sake.

"Start recording," Fisk ordered, and Hanson picked up your phone. Dread coiled in your stomach as it rang. Based on where the sun was in the sky, you'd been gone for awhile and it was unlikely that Matt was already wondering where you were. He'd receive and listen to any audio file sent to his phone almost immediately.

The way Fisk's eyes settled, calm and snakelike, on you made your heart freeze. "Y/N, say hello to Mr. Murdock."

You said nothing. Obeying him, putting your voice onto that audio message, felt like a betrayal of sorts. Maybe it was just the headache speaking, from where you'd been knocked out, but it felt all kinds of wrong to open your mouth and follow through with Fisk's intentions.

"Hanson, encourage her to speak," he said.

Hanson did not hesitate. He took out a knife and pressed it to the tip of your thumb. "Speak, or your thumb will be a centimeter shorter."

"Hello, Mr. Murdock," you parroted back, despising yourself with every word and shivering at what Matt would say when he heard the audio file. At what he would think of you. You knew he wouldn't blame you for getting kidnapped, but still, you hated that now you were just another burden for him — another person to save.

"Give me the phone, Hanson," Fisk said. He took your phone (if you made it out of this mess, you would definitely be sanitizing it) and spoke slowly. "I hope that this is enough of an incentive for you to stand down. You see, this is what you brought upon yourself when you decided to bring Vanessa into this. It was a mistake to say her name." He ended the recording and handed the phone back to Hanson. "Send that to Murdock, please."

"Yes, sir."

Once Fisk waved Hanson off, you felt even more apprehensive. You wanted to meet his eyes — to show that you were unafraid, to prove that he was making a mistake in holding you captive — but that was so far from the truth that you didn't dare make eye contact.

"We'll release you in soon," Fisk said, standing up. "I understand that this isn't pleasant for you, and I regret that you must be the way for me to make a point to Murdock."

"You're going to let me go?" you said, stunned.

"This is a long-term game plan, Miss L/N. This isn't like a movie, where we take people and behead them. No, I consider our tactics more mature than that. I intend to keep you long enough to show Murdock what I'm capable of, and to demonstrate to him that he should never again utter Vanessa's name."

"He's a lawyer," you said, your voice shaking. "And a damn good one. You'll be deep in legal trouble, so—"

Fisk laughed. "Do you know where you are right now, Miss L/N?"

You glanced around the room for the first time. Barren, cement walls, no windows. "A... lair of some kind?"

"As I said before, we are not children, playing out some movie," Fisk said. "No, this is a prison. A prison that I am in control of, as Murdock discovered when he visited to inquire about one Mr. Castle. You can rest assured that the extent of my control goes far beyond the walls of this prison, and the courtrooms are not exempt." He took a step forward and placed his hand on your head. You closed your eyes, trembling, as his palm brushed your hair, as though curious to know what the texture was.

"I apologize, Miss L/N, that you have been caught in this war between your boyfriend and myself." And then, without any warning, he swung a fist so hard into your abdomen that you choked aloud, all of the breath gone from your chest. There was no reprieve before he swung again, and you tried to curl up but the restraints around you made it impossible; you could only heave for breath.

That was only the beginning.

Once Fisk left, you didn't see him for a long time. He had said that you would be released "soon", but you quickly learned that was a subjective term; at least a few days passed with no word of him. You tried to tell time from when you were given food — which was sparing and meagre. Though you were no longer tied to the chair you had woken up in, the room was small enough that you still felt suffocated, and you could do nothing but sit on the corner, back aching, and wait.

At first, it wasn't that bad, as far as kidnappings went (at least, in your imagination). You were hungry, and not nearly enough water was provided, but that was the worst of it, aside from the discomfort of sleeping on a wooden bench. Your bones felt as though they were bruised all over and you were sore from shivering; your shoulders especially were taut from pain of being clenched for so long in the cold. The hunger, while throbbing at first, subsided to a dull feeling that you could attempt to ignore, and the headache gave you something to think about, at least, during the empty hours in the room.

Every thump that you heard, every shout... you couldn't help but hope that it was Matt, there to rescue you. There was a small part of you that began to doubt that he'd be able to make his way to you, let alone find you, as another few hours passed without anything happening.

Or maybe he'd cut his losses and was going to leave you there.

No, don't be dumb. That was ridiculous. Matt loved you. You loved him.

Oh, but what if you're just temporary for him? He could always go back to Elektra. Besides, Elektra at least wouldn't be weak enough to get kidnapped, you thought derisively. It would frankly be justified if Matt went back to her. He deserved someone who could keep up with him.

Maybe it was the dehydration that made your thoughts spiral even more, or maybe it was the exhaustion, because you only convinced yourself further that he wasn't coming, and that he had elected to leave you there.

I'm annoying. I'm always waiting for him, I'm always clinging to him, I'm like a leech that won't go away. He's probably realized how nice it is to have a break from me.

Or maybe he's met another lawyer. Someone really smart, someone who got a 180 on her LSAT and gives him a run for his money.

Karen, maybe. He always liked Karen. She's courageous, and passionate, and literally a model, and so much better for him than I am.

You were so lost in your own self-loathing that you didn't hear Hanson enter and started so violently that you gasped aloud when he spoke.

"Y/N, we're beginning a new recording."

"What?"

"Mr. Fisk would like a new recording to be sent to Mr. Murdock. Say hello."

This time, you kept your jaw firmly shut. It wasn't even out of a refusal to obey Hanson, but more out of your own reluctance to say anything to Matt, because you detested the idea of being even more of a burden on him.

This time, Hanson didn't wait for you to cooperate. He took out his knife and expertly swiped it near your upper arm, so quickly that at first you thought he missed, until a fiery sting flared, followed by the trickle of something warm.

Yet you remained silent.

"I might suggest you speak, Y/N. The quicker you talk, the less pain there will be, and Mr. Murdock won't have to receive quite as lengthy of a recording."

Feeling inspired, you spat at his feet. Hanson was quick to react — he flipped the knife up so that the tip was pressing into the back of your ear. "Did you hear me? Say hello to him."

When you said nothing, he applied pressure to the knife, and it began to cut through your skin; you couldn't help but gasp out loud, panic beginning to set in as red drips started to flow down your neck.

He's going to take off my ear he's going to take off my ear he's going to take off my ear—

"Hello!" you cried out finally, wincing at the stinging residue left where the knife had been.

"Good." Hanson tucked the knife away. "It makes things easier, doesn't it?" His gaze lingered on you for a moment before switching back to the phone. "Mr. Murdock, I'm undressing your girlfriend now. Don't worry, we don't intend to violate her."

"What?" you demanded. "You're not undressing me!"

Hanson ignored you. He took his knife and ripped your shirt open, removing every bit of fabric from you — including undergarments — until you were shivering, goosebumps crawling up your flesh where you made contact with the cold wood of the chair. You tried to cover yourself to no avail; the cuffs made it nearly impossible to give yourself ample cover. With no other choice but to sit in the chair and wait for Hanson to leave, you closed your eyes as tears rose.

Do not cry in front of him. Distract yourself. Ask him a question, get him talking.

"Why undress me?" you asked finally. "What's your endgame here?"

"Mr. Fisk wants you to understand the power he holds," he said smoothly. "And he wants Mr. Murdock to stop interfering. A show of power, especially with humiliation, is apropos for that sort of message, isn't it?"

"Fuck you."

"That's not the kind of diplomacy we're looking for."

"I don't care. Fuck you and your stupid messages. You're torturing someone who's got nothing to do with any of your shit, and as far as I'm aware, Matt was only fulfilling a legal obligation to talk to Fisk. You're making a mistake."

"Was it his 'legal obligation' to mention Vanessa to Mr. Fisk? No? Then, I am sorry to say, we are justified in our actions." Hanson twirled the knife and drove it downwards, faster than the blink of an eye, into the top of your hand.

This time, you screamed. And it wasn't the only scream, either — when you glanced down, and saw the blade of the knife gouged straight through the top of your hand, staking your entire arm to the wooden chair, you screamed again, throat so raw that it felt as though it were tearing, because God, the pain, make it stop, there was no way that one little blade could make you feel as though you were being torn apart, atom-by-atom—

"Mr. Murdock, I hope you've made it to the end of this message, because Mr. Fisk has something he'd like to say to you," Hanson said, unconcernedly straightening his tie. "Never bring Vanessa into this again, ever. Good day."

He clicked the end button on your phone and typed a few buttons as he delivered the audio file.

And that was the last thing you saw. Your tunneling vision collapsed altogether and the wooziness of looking at the blood streaming down your fingers took your consciousness.

When you awoke next, everything was pitch black. The light that used to stream in from the hallway was gone. You couldn't see your hand, not that you particularly wanted to, but it felt hot and irritated, though the blood around it had clotted. That was the one good thing, you supposed, though you had a suspicious that the heat around it was not as good. But maybe heat was good. Like a fever — fevers meant that the cells were killing the bad cells, right? Perhaps the same principle applied to knives-in-hands.

Then again, you weren't sure how straight you were thinking at the moment.

Every so often Hanson would enter, leaving you squinting in the jarring yellow light that he brought with him. Best case scenario, he'd add a cut to your collection, taking the tip of a new knife he had to make you bleed. Worst case scenario he tried something new — choking you, grazing your foot with a lighter. Either way, you learned to be obedient, and whenever the recording started, you said hello to Matt, just as he wanted you to.

And then, as time blurred and warped into a funhouse kaleidoscope of nonsense, you were no longer in that room. You didn't even remember being taken out of it. One moment you were lying on the floor, trembling uncontrollably from the cold, and the next... you were being handled roughly, thrown down, and left alone. The roar of a vehicle beside you was loud enough that you opened your eyes.

Water. There was water near you. The Hudson? The wood beneath you was damp, like a dock.

And next to you, sitting silently, was your phone. Hands shaking, you reached out, wincing at the throb of pain and at the gaping dark wound where the knife had apparently been extracted from your hand.

It was your phone. You stared at it, unsure of what to do. Was this a test? Did Fisk leave you here as torture?

Or was this your chance to escape?

Which, at the moment, felt unlikely. Your legs weren't moving. You could hardly lift your head, for whatever reason, and you were so damn cold that it made you want to fall asleep where you were, no matter how damn uncomfortable the dock was.

Or... you could call Matt.

Matt. You wanted to cry at the thought of him. Why hadn't he come for you? He probably was tired of how needy you were, how incapable, how useless compared to Elektra. But you stared at the contacts in your phone, then at the various cuts on your body. There was no one else to call.

You clicked his name, unsure of whether he'd pick up, but on the very first ring his voice was there. It sounded like an ethereal tether, anchoring you back to a reality that you hadn't been to in days, not since before you had been kidnapped.

"Y/N?" Matt said, almost breathless.

God, you missed his voice. And being in his arms. Suddenly you wanted to sob, just at hearing him, because hearing him meant everything would be alright. Matt's voice was comfort, it was home.

"Y/N, are you there?" he said, this time more insistent.

Right. Answering him would be a good idea.

"Matt?" you said weakly, taken aback by the sound of your own voice. It sounded like someone had taken your voice box, air-fried it, left it in the desert, then thrown some shards of glass in for good measure.

"I'm here, I'm here, sweetie. Where are you? Are you okay? What can you see?"

"I..." Something was pulsing behind your eyes, and it was distracting. You closed them to alleviate the pressure. "I... what?"

"Sorry. One question at a time." Matt was speaking slower, now, and you were glad for it. "Are you hurt?"

"Mm. Probably. But I'll be okay." Worrying him seemed like the wrong thing to do. You'd be fine, of course you would be, because it would be embarrassing if you weren't fine. The thought of having to be rescued as well as being incapable of getting up and brushing off your knees was alarming.

"Y/N, I need you to look around and tell me what you see. I'm going to try to find you. Is that water I can hear in the back?"

"I'm... by the Hudson, I think." You tried lifting your head, but it sent electric bolts of pain down your neck. "Ow. I'm having a hard time looking."

"That's okay, sweetheart, you're doing great. What else can you see?"

"Streetlamps. Dock."

"Okay. Anything else?" There was rustling in the background of the call, then the telltale squeaking of Matt's apartment door. Was he headed to work? No, it was dark out, you reminded yourself. It was too late to go to work. He was headed for Josie's, maybe. Or to go see Elektra.

"Y/N, are you there? Don't fall asleep. Stay awake, listen to my voice."

You jolted upright, unaware that you'd been drifting. "Sorry. I'm here."

"The phone isn't picking up much of the audio, but I'm headed in your general direction. Keep talking to me, Y/N. I need you to stay awake."

"I'm not falling asleep," you protested.

Though sleep did sound really nice. You didn't even notice the cold anymore, and you were glad you were in the shadows of night, because if anyone found you, naked and laying there on the dock, you'd surely get arrested. Was it a felony to be naked in public? You couldn't remember.

And your hand, it hurt so much, it felt as though it were numb and on fire at the same time. You scratched at it, but it only made it throb more, and then you could feel the warm stickiness that suggested it was bleeding again, so you let it fall back down onto the wood and stared up at the few stars bright enough to penetrate the haze of New York City.

And then your eyes were shut, and you were reluctantly opening them as a sharp voice commanded something of you in the background.

"What?" you asked, trying to remember where you were. Right. The dock. Waiting for Matt, presumably. Was he coming? That didn't seem certain.

"Y/N, talk to me. You've got to stay awake. I think you've lost a lot of blood."

"Talk... 'bout what?"

"Tell me about the nearest building to you."

"Mm. Okay." You swung your gaze to the right. "Um, there's a bottle." And it was a big bottle. At first you weren't sure if you were hallucinating, but it was definitely there, and bottle-shaped. Art, you realized. A sculpture of some sort. "Big bottle. Big, big bottle."

"You're amazing, sweetheart. I know exactly where you are. I'll be there in five minutes, alright?" He didn't wait for your thoughts to drift. "Talk to me about your plans for Thanksgiving. You had plans for us, right?"

"Right." You struggled to think of Thanksgiving. It felt like eons ago that you'd been mapping out the holiday, like you were a different person entirely last you'd thought of it. "I want... homemade cranberry sauce. Not the jar stuff."

"Right. What's wrong with the jar stuff?"

You were exhausted; it was too tough of a question to answer coherently. You opted to ignore the question and moved on. "Mashed potatoes. With toppings."

"What kinds of toppings?"

"Um." Thinking was making your head hurt even more. "Butter? I don't know. Matt, it hurts." The admission slipped from your mouth before you could check it.

Stupid, you've got to keep him from worrying, he needs to think that you're alright, he can't know that it hurts.

"I know, I know it does, I'm going as fast as I can go," Matt said, and you assumed he must have been telling the truth — he sounded out of breath and his speech was punctuated with running footsteps.

It began to rain. It was a cold rain, the kind that felt as though it should be snow but the temperature wasn't quite low enough. It splattered across your skin and reminded you of the fact that you were naked. "Matt, I'm naked," you informed him, blinking as you looked down at your body. Blood was all over you; it was difficult to see where Hanson had targeted you. The burn on your foot was making itself known as it got wet in the rain, and you bit your tongue to keep from crying out.

But he didn't sound surprised. "I heard. In the audio file. I've got clothing for you."

Oh, yes. The audio files. How much of your kidnapping had Matt been privy to hear? You weren't sure if you wanted to know.

"What vegetable were you thinking?" he prompted.

Your eyes drifted open. "Well... that depends. What d'you want?"

"Whatever you want to have."

"Not fair," you objected, voice slurring slightly. It was annoying, trying to keep up with the conversation; you wanted nothing more than to sleep, even with the rain now pattering hard on your face. "I guess... peas are nice. Peas are Thanksgiving-y."

"I like peas. My dad used to make them all the time — he'd buy them frozen, heat the whole bag up at once, and melt butter in it. Then we'd keep it in the fridge for a week and it would be our sole source of a vegetable."

"Mm. Butter peas," you repeated. "I'll do that. What... what's your..." The word wouldn't come to your lips, and you paused for a few seconds. "Favorite pie?"

"Strawberry rhubarb," he said, but this time, the voice wasn't coming from the phone, but above you. Everything felt foggy, though, and for a moment all you could think was that there was a man above you, and that it had to be Hanson — Fisk must have wanted to take you back, and they were here to take you again, and please, you couldn't do this again—

"Hey, hey, it's me. It's me." The voice above you was Matt's, and his face came into focus as he kneeled next to you with a wavering smile. You drew in a breath, ignoring the stab of pain in your chest.

"Matt?"

"I've got you," he said, pulling you up into his arms. "I have you."

You couldn't help it; tears began to flow, because Matt's arms were so strong and safe, the exact thing you had longed for all that time in the cell. You could still feel your heart racing wildly and you tried to draw another breath to calm down.

Matt's head was tilted as he surveyed you. He must have left the apartment in a hurry, because he hadn't bothered to put on the red suit, or even the black outfit. He was still in his work pants, with an untucked collared button-down and a tie that was loose enough that it looked ready to fall off him. The only part of his ensemble that he'd put on was the black mask.

And, dammit, even lying in the rain naked and injured, you were still able to appreciate how good he looked.

"Okay." Matt's head was still tilted, and you realized he was appraising you. "Okay. We're going to be okay, sweetheart."

We. You felt a rush of affection for him, and reached outwards weakly with your uninjured hand. He took it, squeezing hard. "I'm here, Y/N." He took off a backpack that you hadn't noticed yet and helped you to sit up, slipping one of his larger tee shirts over your head as though you were a lifeless doll. You didn't mind the help; you wouldn't have had the energy to do it on your own.

He was exceedingly careful. His hands skated over the parts of your body that hurt the most, precisely aware of where he should and shouldn't touch in order to not aggravate the wounds. When it came time to putting on the pants, he practically lifted you up before putting your arm around his neck so that you wouldn't topple over as he pulled your pajama pants on you.

"Thanks," you murmured. "Sorry... sorry I'm useless."

He kissed your cheek gently, and then picked you up, carrying you away from the dock. "You're never useless. Never. I was..." He drew in a breath. "This past week has been hell. I tried to get into that prison dozens of times, but Fisk had it guarded so well that I couldn't — I'm sorry, sweetheart, I did everything I could — but it was a fortress. And the law couldn't help, the police couldn't help, because they've all been corrupted, and — well, I'll tell you when you're better."

You wiped roughly at your face with your good hand. "Can we go home? I'm... I'm scared he'll come back, that they'll try to take me again — I don't want to go back there. He knows I'm here, Matt, they dropped me off here, they know."

"We're going home," he promised, and then his face darkened. "If they ever even try to talk to you again, let alone touch you..." He broke off. "The point is, they won't. I will never let this happen again, do you hear me?" He cupped your face in his hands and kissed you, a bit more roughly, as the anger broiling beneath the surface for Fisk crested slightly. "How are you feeling right now? Are you able to walk?"

"I'm fine." You shifted slightly. "I can walk." It was an ambitious offer, though. You were struggling to keep your head up and you weren't sure how long you could stay upright.

Matt exhaled. "I've already texted Claire. She's going to come to the apartment. You... you've been through a lot, sweetie. You've lost a lot of blood." He helped you to your feet, and you clutched at him, swaying uncertainly. It only took one step forward for you to yelp, as your burned foot seared in protest, and without another word Matt took you up in his arms.

"I'm fine," you insisted. "You don't have to carry me, really. I can walk."

Matt's face twisted. "No. You're... you're not in good shape, sweetheart. I can take it from here."

You didn't answer. His tone was more serious than you were anticipating, which suggested you'd underestimated your own injuries. The exhaustion that followed seemed to corroborate that. It was hard enough staying awake on the dock, but now, in the warmth of Matt's arms, and with the rhythmic jostling as he walked you away from the Hudson, it was enough to make the black start to descend on your vision again.

"Y/N, hey, stay awake. Don't fall asleep," Matt was saying, but as much as you wanted to listen to him, the heaviness won out, and you passed out, into a heavy blackness lined with the velvet curtains of dreamlessness.

Moments flickered in and out.

Claire's face. Determined, stoic, and at times, anxious. You wanted to say hello, or to say that you were fine, but your lips were lead and no sound emerged.

Then Foggy. Attempted smiles, cracked jokes that you couldn't hear or retain. Doughnuts, you noticed once, hazily drifting in and out.

Karen was there. Beautiful Karen, who you couldn't help but envy. Sitting beside you, reading beside you silently, glancing up at you.

And, of course, Matt's face. Constantly worried, constantly seeking out the sounds of your heart or wounds, fingers dancing over you to check for invisible damage. Sometimes he was sleeping in the chair next to you. Or he'd be pacing in the living room. Sometimes he had his work out with him, his fingers running over the braille keys as they popped up, but still his head was always slightly tilted towards you, keeping watch.

And then...

Hanson's voice.

You jolted upright, heart leaping into your chest as you glanced around wildly, certain that you'd see Hanson's polished shoes crossing the floor towards you.

"Shit, shit, sorry!" someone was saying, and you jarred your neck as you turned to face Foggy, who was guiltily setting down your phone. "I'm so sorry, Y/N!"

"Y/N?" Matt was next to you; how long had he been there? His face was anxious and he was holding your hand. "I'm sorry. Foggy and I were listening back through the audio files, trying to find clues as to where Hanson might be — if there's a chance we can go after him legally, Foggy thinks we should take it."

"He's... he's not here?" you said, uncertain, still feeling shaky from the adrenaline.

"No. No, he's not." Matt was looking at you sadly, his eyes almost locked onto your gaze but just a bit high on your forehead, and the near guise of eye contact made a rush of embarrassment flow through you.

"My bad," you said, struggling to sit up. "It just... took me by surprise, I guess, hearing his voice again."

"No one blames you," Foggy said automatically. "Jesus, slow down, Y/N — you nearly died of hypovolemia."

"Foggy's right." Matt settled onto the bed next to you. "Rest, stay laying down. You've been out for awhile."

"How long is awhile?"

"Awhile," was all he said.

"Did I... did I miss Thanksgiving?"

Matt's expression told you all that you needed to know. You groaned and flopped back onto your pillow, which was a mistake; your skull resounded with the impact and stars floated above you.

"You need to take it easy," Matt was saying, concern in his eyes. "You're not unbreakable, Y/N."

"Think I figured that out on my own," you muttered, shielding your eyes as the sun glinted off of the window. "Shit. I missed Thanksgiving."

"Not really," Foggy said. "We're postponing it. Homemade cranberry sauce and buttery peas will still be on."

His words tickled a faint memory in the back of your head, of lying in a dock and talking almost incoherently with Matt on the phone. "Aw. You two talked about... the plans? While I was out?"

"It was that or talk about the latest legal precedent issues that are making life hell for us at the office," Matt said, smiling. "But we would never do Thanksgiving without you." He rubbed his thumb gently against the top of your hand, avoiding the bandage where the skin was sensitive. You didn't even want to think about what that wound looked like.

"I'll have to run to the grocery store soon, then," you said. "And we have to buy a crock pot, Matt. And we need—"

"We need you to get better, first," he cut in. "Claire left some medication for you. You should take it now."

"I'm fine."

"Y/N."

"Matt, whenever I tell you to take your meds, you brush me off and say that you're fine." You tried to push yourself up onto your elbows. "I want to get ready, I want to get out of this bed — I feel like I've been out of commission for so long."

But Matt gently stopped you from getting up. "Sweetie, Foggy wasn't lying. You almost died. I need you to get better, okay? Rest, and heal. I'll be here."

"But—"

"Get some sleep," he whispered, and it wasn't really that unappealing an idea. You slowly lowered yourself back onto the pillow, this time avoiding the mistake of flopping backwards.

"Okay," you said finally, sleep already taking you. "But... I want to do two desserts, okay? One strawberry rhubarb."

"And the other?"

"Devil's food cake," you murmured, closing your eyes. "'Cause it'd be funny."

As you finally fell asleep, the last thing you heard was Matt's laugh.

[merakiui]

Fwb Riddle with the prompts "You don't have to leave, you know" and/or "Stay the night tonight" 🥺

AAAA YES YES. OTL

(fwb dialogues)

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Riddle murmurs, watching you pick up your discarded clothes scattered on the floor. He’s sitting up in his bed, the covers draped lazily over his lap. Awkwardly, he wrings his hands out of nervous habit.

You glance over your shoulder at him, stunned. “I thought you didn’t have time today. You told me so—said you’d rather be studying when I texted you.”

“Yes. Well…” He huffs, averting his eyes. “I’ve changed my mind. So… If it’s not asking too much, stay the night tonight.”

You tilt your head, resting your hands on your hips. “Isn’t there some rule about this in the Queen of Hearts’s law?”

Riddle chuckles, regaining slivers of confidence with every passing second. “There’s nothing in the rulebook that says I’m not allowed to share my space with you. We’re abiding by the rules.”

“Most of the time.”

Riddle blinks at you, opens his mouth to question you, and then clamps it shut. His face explodes with color. He remembers the night well—the party at the lounge. He only went for courtesy’s sake, accompanied by Trey and Cater, and he’d planned to make his rounds, greet everyone in turn, and leave before he missed evening tea. Rule 153 — One must only drink herbal tea in the evenings.

But then someone passed a fruity drink into his hand—something that was so very obviously alcoholic from the look and sight alone—and Riddle had thought himself strong enough to decline. Even though his wits were about him, they crumbled at the sight of you, merrily giggling alongside Kalim and indulging in the type of mindless fun he’s never had the chance to know. He’s never needed to rely on liquid courage or anything like it; he derives enough confidence from the ever-present fear of failure and that keeps him going.

But this was different, and it wasn’t very secretive to the keen eyes of his friends and dorm mates.

Cater had nudged Riddle, grinning encouragingly. “You literally never get to see (Name) outside of class. Now’s your chance! Go make Cay-Cay proud and talk a bit.”

Riddle flustered outright. “I’ve no idea what we’d even talk about!”

“The upcoming exam,” Trey prompted with a half-shrug. “Nothing gets people talking faster than when it comes to exams they aren’t looking forward to.”

For once Riddle doesn’t find academics an appealing conversation subject. But he hadn’t had time to deliberate because Cater looped arms with him and skipped over in your direction.

Riddle learned two very valuable lessons that night. One: Never drink wine in copious amounts no matter how delicious it is. Two: Never hook up anywhere near or in the Mostro Lounge.

It’s been months since that party, an irresponsible mistake on his part, and he’s arguably closer with you than he’s ever been. Physically, perhaps. Emotions are…difficult. Neither of you signed up for the emotional benefits. Just the sex. Sometimes he wishes there was more. Rule 53 — One must replace anything stolen.

But how can you do that when you’re not aware of the thing you’ve unintentionally stolen?

Riddle surfaces from that rumination, refusing to dignify that with incoherent, embarrassed sputtering. Instead, he simply says, “Certain situations call for…exceptions.”

“Is that what I am?” you ask, stepping into your underwear. Riddle’s gaze traces the length of your legs. “An exception to the rules? Last I checked there’s no rule saying we can’t kiss.”

“And there aren’t any rules prohibiting you from staying either.”

You pause, half-dressed. “No, I guess not… I don’t want to ruin your study time, though. I may be an exception, but I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“We could study together.”

“You’re the only guy I know who’d study after sex.”

Riddle bristles. “W-What else am I meant to do?”

An amused smile curls on your lips. You cover the distance to the bed and lean over to meet him. He stares at you, swept up in your charm. You’re everything his mother would object to. Your relationship doesn’t suit that of normal, standard love (because it’s not), but it’s his choice and no one, not even the rules or his mother, can influence that. It’s messy and imperfect, but it’s all his.

“You could try talking to me,” you offer, your face within kissing distance. “Not about school or dorm stuff. But about you.”

Oh.

Yeah, you’re right. He could try that.

[mediocre-writerr]

love quinn x fem!reader where reader celebrates valentine’s day with love like she baked and prepared dinner just like love had taught her before and reader paid attention to make this day special for her. everything is a surprise btw but as we know love she was starting to freak out a bit thinking reader is being distant and secretive but all turned out well. anyways lots of fluff 💖

-🎈

banana pancakes [love quinn]

love quinn x fem!reader

warnings: a few curse words

mediocre author's note: hey guys! happy belated valentine's day, hope it was full of love in all different forms. love you guys!

Your location was off…why was your location off? Your location was never off. Love swiped out the app, only to re enter it seconds later. It had to be some kind of tech issue right? Your location wasn’t actually off…right? Wrong. Sure enough your location was still off. 

Love let out a huff, as she shut off her phone, throwing it onto the metal counter in the kitchen of Anavrin. The brunette closed her eyes, resting her head on the cool metal door of the fridge, as she took deep breaths. ‘I trust her’ she repeats to herself over and over in her head, like a troubled school child writing ‘I’m sorry’ on their paper repeatedly. It was odd to her. It was Valentine’s Day, the day of love, and you were completely ignoring her. Only sending a ‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ text to start off her morning. 

Everything seemed fine then, so what changed? 

You were stressed, like really stressed. It was your first actual Valentine’s Day with someone you truly love. You wanted to make something perfect for the first time. The only problem? You can’t cook to save your life, despite Love teaching you her favorite recipes. 

“Oh for fucks sake!” You yell, opening your apartment door to let all the smoke out of your house before you set off the fire alarm. You take a deep breath, resting your head against the cool metal rail, as you try to get your shit together. This needs to be perfect. Everything needs to be perfect. 

Your head snaps up, as someone’s voice calls your attention. “Hey Gordon Ramsey, I see cooking is going super well for you. A solid five Michelin Stars!” your sometimes favorite 15 year old teases from right next to you. 

“Not now, Ellie. I keep fucking up the recipe and Love gets off work in like 3 hours and nothing is ready,” you vent to the brunette, as you begin to pace the small pathway between apartments. 

She rolls her eyes at you, “Dude, chill out. You’re stressing out about this way too much.”

“I’m sorry, I just want everything to be perfect.”

“And that’s the problem,” she shows herself into your apartment. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Sure Ellie, you can come in,” you say before mocking her voice. “Oh gee thanks Y/N. You’re the best.” 

You follow in after her, a fearful expression on her face as she looks at the steak you attempted to cook. The entire piece burnt to a crisp, she cuts into it, nibbling a tiny piece out of the corner. Her mouth immediately opens, dropping the tiny piece onto the dirty counter. “I didn’t think anyone could be this bad at cooking,” she admits, grabbing a glass of water to wash down the taste. “Like, I actually think you used sugar to season the steak and not salt.”

“Ellie, if you’re just gonna sit here and tell me how shit I am, you can just leave. I already know all of that,” you swing the front door open, gesturing for her to leave.

“Oh stop that ‘poor me’ bullshit,” she tells you, causing your eyebrows to furrow at her sudden tone. “This is why nothing is working out. You’re trying to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be perfect. For some odd reason that I don’t understand, Love is madly in love with you, and no amount of shit steak can change that. So shut the fuck up and just stop trying so hard!” 

Then it all clicks in your head. One of your first dates, she mentioned the simplicity, yet perfect bite of roasted chicken. Nothing too extravagant or special, but a dish that is strong with flavor, yet still feels like it's made by someone who cares. You snap your fingers together, “That’s it, Ellie! You’re a genius! C’mon, we gotta stop at the store!” 

“We?” 

You smile at her, a cockiness written all over it, “Yes we, you just got hired to be my sous chef,” you grabbed your keys, immediately ushering her out of the apartment, and to your car. 

“Oh fuck me,” she mumbled. 

Cooking for Love was supposed to be therapeutic, a way to ease her mind. Unfortunately, for the vegetables she’s cutting right now, it means that they’re receiving a brutal chop. Especially since you left her text message on read, asking what your plans were for tonight. 

A low whistle fills the kitchen as Forty walks in, eyeing his twin, “What did those poor poor celeries do to you?” She shot him a glare without another response, causing him to nod, “Don’t want to talk about it, got it. Let’s talk about something else then. What did Y/N get you for Valentine’s Day? I know she’s got her gift-giving science down to perfection. I told her multiple times to start a business doing that, I’d invest in it, she would make some serious money! I mean can you imagine all the lousy excuses for husbands going to her to buy a gift for their-” 

Forty was abruptly cut off when Love’s knife slammed down onto the metal counter. His eyes wide as he stared at his fuming sister, “It’s 8, I’m off now. I’ll see you later,” she responded in a monotone voice, storming out towards her car with one destination in mind. Your apartment. Whether you were home or not, she’ll let herself in and wait for her, so you could explain yourself to her. 

“God, I hate that you dragged me into this,” Ellie speaks up, through the soft music playing from your speaker. She wiped down the counter, as you set the table with cheesy decorations. 

You shrugged, smirking at her, “If I remember correctly, you butt in yourself. I think it was something about a five Michelin Star rating?” 

She was about to retort when your front door burst open and a seething Love stepped foot into your apartment. You and Ellie stood there wide eyed, not quite sure what happened to make the sometimes intimidating brunette mad. The two of you were bracing yourself for the burst of anger, but it never came. The girl’s frown slowly turned upward into a soft smile. 

“Surprise?” You said, smiling sheepishly at her. You interlock your fingers together, guiding her to her seat at the table. “I made some roasted chicken, and I know you could tell a lot about a chef by their roasted chicken. I just want to say, my roasted chicken will probably tell you I’m a shit chef. But uh, I tried to follow it exactly like you make it, with the potatoes and carrots and reduction, whatever that is. You’ve made it a few times, so I tried to copy from memory.”

Love smiled softly, as you pulled out her chair. “I was trying to make everything perfect, you know? I mean I even turned off my location to go to your favorite donut shop, but they were sold within like ten minutes of opening, and as soon as I got to the front of the line they were closing. So, that threw out the idea of surprising you at work. I almost set fire to my apartment a few times. But I think it turned out okay,” you drift over towards the kitchen, nervously rambling, as you pull out a small little plate of banana pancakes. “I know these aren’t super fancy pastries that you usually bake, but I remember you telling me that you and Forty would make these all the time when your mom was on this no sugar kick. You said it used to be your favorite breakfast and dessert when your were younger, so-” 

You’re immediately cut off when Love grabs the hem of your shirt, attaching her lips deeply onto yours. Your hands fly to the back of her neck, fingers lacing into her hair.

“I’m gonna throw up,” Ellie says, blowing her cheeks up to mock the vomit. The two of you back away from each other, chuckling. 

You let go of Love, walking over towards the kitchen to find a few small plastic containers. You start packing some food into the containers, before handing it to Ellie, “Thank you my sous chef. It was lovely working with you,” you chuckle as she rolls her eyes, trying to fight off a small smile on her face. “I packed enough for both you and Deliliah. Thank you again, really.” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all sappy on me, Chef Ramsey,” she takes the containers from you gratefully, as she bids a goodnight to Love. 

“I love you Ellie!” You exclaim before she leaves. She raises her middle finger towards you without another response. You turn back to Love with a wide smile, “That means she loves me.”

Love chuckles, shaking her head, at your goofy antics with the young girl. “Sure it does,” a fake pout crosses your face as you stand in front of her with your arms crossed. Her hands find your waist pulling you to sit in her lap, “It’s okay though because I love you. Very very much…this was really thoughtful of you Y/N, really.” 

You smile softly, kissing her gently, “I love you more,” you cut a piece of the chicken, giving her a piece with skin, potatoes, carrots, and dipped into the reduction. Just like how she would always tell you to eat it, “Here, try.” 

You watched in her anticipation, biting your bottom lip. Her eyes were neutral as she chewed on what she usually calls the perfect bite. 

“So?” You ask as she finishes chewing. 

A wide smile spreads across her face, nodding, “It’s perfect. You are perfect.” 

[pygmi-cygni]

Patient

part one of my fifteen minute fic series - where I set a timer for fifteen minutes and write a blurb based off a prompt and a genre.

Today's pick: Nathan Bateman x Reader, fluff, denial of feelings

three...two...one...go!

Go away, he'd spit as you showed up at his door with a cup of tea and his breakfast.

I don't want to, he'd grunt when you suggested he take a day off.

Leave me alone, was scrawled in black text over his locked office door.

Nathan, Nathan, Nathan, you'd smile patiently in response, what a stubborn mule you are. He'd get riled up even farther, egging you to raise your voice. He'd prod and poke your weak points to start a shouting match, only to be shot down with a pat on the shoulder.

He wanted you to get mad. He wanted you to sneer at him, to watch you march off, bags in hand, never returning. He wanted you to leave.

More than anything, he wanted his chest to stop squeezing.

It's okay, you whispered when he angrily destroyed a laptop after a coding mishap.

You'll be alright, you soothed, rubbing ointment into his bruised knuckles.

Don't worry, you assured, hastily fixing the hole in his schedule that was driving him to panic.

Every punch he threw, every barb he spat, every cruelty he flung at you would dissolve in your gentle glances, your unwavering appreciation. He didn't know how anyone could put up with him like this. Give in, he'd glare when you deflected his spite again. But alas, you shone bright and refused to let him in.

Okay, he'd cede when you brought him lunch.

In a minute, he'd mutter when you reminded him of his sleep.

Door's open, he'd throw over his shoulder, hoping to see your face flit by.

Like Newton's Cradle, you fed off each other's energy, slowly taming to a comfortable neutrality. No more fights, no more shouting. Nathan resisted a knee-jerk insult and you gained confidence in your reminders. I care, you'd explain when he questioned your motives for the umpteenth time. It's not in my nature to watch someone suffer.

Come in, you offered when he showed up in a fit of terror.

I'm sorry, you said genuinely, listening to his scattering thoughts and crippling fear.

I won't leave, you laughed after he shyly brought up your absence.

How could you leave, when he'd finally opened his walls? His garden was growing, slowly, yes, but soon the flowers would bloom and he'd be okay. You would never miss out on such beauty. It was slow, careful, tedious, the way he warmed up. A brush on the back of your hand, then a strong grasp on your wrist. He'd let you whisper your lips across his cheek if he thought nobody was looking.

Come here, he'd plead when you shifted across the mattress.

More, please, he'd mumble when your hands rubbed his soft skin.

Don't go, he'd yearn when you mentioned a job in New York.

He was fragile still, a new leaf unfurling. You knew to be gentle, to hug him gently and murmur soft things in his ear. You never yelled, afraid his eyes would mist and he'd shun you with an angry huff.

your chest warmed when his hands would clutch you, finally brave enough to reach for what he wanted. His face was slack with sleep, lips twitching in a serene smile. It had been a good day; his work was finished and you'd made his favorite dish for dinner. He'd told you so after your lips were too kiss-numb to respond.

Love you, his heart thrummed when you settled back beside him.

I know, yours thumped, beating together in the cradle of your bed.

??? the style kinda came out of nowhere but we ballin

let me know if you wanna be on my taglist!

[mockerycrow]

Only Tipsy (Buck x GN!Reader) - Pt. 2

GIF BY @cinematicnomad - masterlist

Summary: You’re apart of the 118 and you have an alcohol problem. Despite knowing you’re surrounded by people who care about you, you’re mortified from the thought of them knowing you’re struggling. [this is an x buck fic, but there’s love from everyone, including maddie.]

A/N: I realize this isn’t too much of a x buck fic so i might rename it.

WARNINGS: alcoholism, dark thoughts, mentioned self harm (non-graphic), angst, hurt/comfort, spoilers for the show.

PART TWO OF TWO - PART ONE HERE

The ride to your apartment was short, but for everyone, it felt like it took a million years, like God had somehow slowed time down and everything was moving slower than it actually was. Bobby taps his fingers against the steering wheel; he can’t help but be worried. This isn’t your usual behavior and what happened with Chim and Maddie with Doug, everyone can only assume the worst. You don’t exactly have a history like Maddie, but when someone is acting extremely unusual? Your darkest fears come out to play.

Bobby and Hen sit in the ambulance silently, riding along the road. Bobby was not going the speed limit at all, which is something Hen would usually lecture him for, but they’re in an emergency vehicle with the sirens and lights on. Perhaps they’re being a bit dramatic if nothing is actually wrong, but Hen can’t help but feel like something is.. very, very wrong. This dark and invading feeling inside of her gut is spreading through her torso to her fingers and she just can’t shake it. Hen’s phone vibrates in her pocket, so her fingers grab the edge and pull it out of her work pants. Hen unlocks her phone and sees Maddie texted her.

Maddie: nearly there. ru guys there yet??

Hen: not yet. eta 2 mins

Hen: something is very wrong. we took the ambulance

Maddie: hey we can’t assume the worst, ok?

Hen: can’t help it. my gut is screaming at me. they need to be ok, for their own sake. and maybe buck’s. he’s shitting himself back at the station

Maddie: he’s not with u?

Hen: no, it’s just me and bobby. chim, eddie and buck r back @ the station in case there’s a call. trust me, buck begged bobby but he wouldn’t let him

Hen looks up from her phone as the ambulance comes to a slow outside of your apartment. She glances at Bobby and they make eye contact as they unclip their seatbelts at the same time, hopping out of the ambulance. Hen grabs a medical duffle bag full of supplies. Hen quickly catches up with Bobby. A few feet away, Bobby makes eye contact with Maddie who’s shutting her car door, keys in hand. She fast walks towards them in such a motherly manner, worried etched across her face. Her eyebrows are pinched together; like she’s expecting the worst, despite what she just told Hen.

“Seems like we got here at the same time,” Maddie murmurs. “Let’s head inside.”

Bobby swallows his spit as he feels that panic bubble back up his throat, but he forces it back down. He needs to focus; for you, for buck, for himself.

The trio make their way inside of the lobby and head up to the fifth floor—your floor.

The walk down the hall was dreadful. Maddie doesn’t bother to knock, she just whips out the key you provided her; you provided your team with a key and you grew so close with Maddie, it only felt fitting she should have one, too. Her keys jingle as she inserts the key into your front doorknob and turns it, immediately opening the door.

The smell of alcohol is strong. It’s overwhelming, gross and all-consuming of your senses. Hen blinks away a few tears as she covers her mouth, walking inside. “Holy shit..” Hen mutters breathlessly. Your apartment is wrecked, there’s bottles everywhere, your carpet is stained with god knows what by this point, there’s crumpled up paper towels and paper plates strewn about, everything. “Oh my god.” Bobby mutters as Maddie walks inside, looking around worriedly, avoiding the bottles. “[Name]??” She calls, concern lacing her tone.

“I’ll go check her bedroom, go check the kitchen and bathroom.” Hen quips as she quickly walks through the apartment and down the hall. She coughs as she opens a few doors in the hall and peeping in, calling your name.

Of course, no one gets a response.

“In here!”

Maddie’s sound is heard from the living room and that’s where Bobby and Hen go.

“C’mon [Name], time to get up..” Maddie murmurs

You’re slumped against the wall, cradling the bottle. Bobby freezes and stares at your slumped over body; your sweaty skin, your hair sticking to your forehead. The front of your shirt is wet with sweat and alcohol. Maddie presses two fingers against your wrist. “Pulse is strong, but really fast. I think they’re dehydrated.”

Hen nods and takes a deep breath and bends down onto her knees. She takes out her small, white flashlight and peels open your bottom eyelids, shining the beam in your pupils and quickly moving it away, watching the reaction. “Pupil dilation is normal, but the whites of their eyes are red, the lowerlids are too light pink for my liking.”

Bobby swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I’ll get the shower going to get them to wake up and then Hen, you should start an IV.”

“Got it, Cap.” Hen replied, putting medical gloves on and already preparing the saline. “Help me pick them up,” Maddie says as she looks at Bobby. They maintain eye contact for a split second and communicate silently; communicate their worries, their concerns, their fears. Bobby walks closer and takes the bottle away from your arms and places it somewhere out of the way. He then hooks his arms under yours and picks your torso up, and Maddie quickly grabs your legs for easy transport. Bobby lets out a soft grunt and they take you to the bathroom.

Bobby then sits you down on the toilet seat, leaning your body against Maddie. She sniffles quietly and wraps an arm around you, hand cradling your face and brushing her thumb against it gently. Bobby forces himself to look away and he takes a slow deep breath before reaching over and turning the water on. He keeps it cold as he pulls the lever up and it transfers from your bathtub faucet to your shower head. “After the IV, I’ll call Buck.” Maddie says quietly, as if her voice will wake your alcohol-coma like state. Bobby nods without saying anything and he completely pries open the shower curtains. He sighs and grabs onto you along with Maddie, grunting, “Alright, in you go.”

They carefully put you in the tub, resting your head against the back of the tub wall. Bobby grabs the shower head and points it towards you, effectively soaking your clothes.

At first, you don’t wake up.

One second turns in to five, in to twenty, into sixty and suddenly your eyelids begin to flutter, a scratchy groan leaving your throat.

Both Maddie and Bobby let out breaths they didn’t know they were holding. You take a good ten seconds to realize you’re in the tub, your glazed over eyes looking around for anything to finally focus on. Your eyes meet Maddie’s and focus; her worried face coming into view.

“Maddie..” You croak, your eyebrows furrowing upwards as your eyes begin to burn with forming tears. You look at Bobby standing beside her and you open your mouth to speak but all that escapes from you is a harsh sob. You cover your water soaked face with your hands, your hair and clothes continuously being soaked with the freezing water. You clearly sobered up fast, and your heart was pounding. The room was spinning, your fingers buzzing with numbness. You couldn’t hear the water rushing anymore, but you felt a pair of strong arms help you out of the bathtub.

You open your eyes and cough as you see the blurry figures of Bobby and Maddie taking you back to the living room near the heater.

You blink and there’s a prick in your arm.

You blink and there’s hands on your face.

You blink and right in front of you is Buck, cupping your cheeks. Wait.. When did he get here?

“..hear me?” Buck’s shaky voice fades in. “Babe, can you hear me?”

You swallow your spit—there’s barely any, due to dehydration. “B.. Buck?”

He smiles, but the gesture doesn’t reach his eyes. He nods, kissing your damp forehead. “Yeah, I’m right here, [Name].”

You try to reach up to touch him but Maddie’s hand comes out of nowhere and gently presses my arm back down. “You have an IV for fluids in your arm, try not to bend your arm, okay?” Maddie’s voice is oh so gentle and loving and you can’t help but burst into tears again. Buck quickly pulls you close to your chest and you sob into his shirt, your tears dripping onto the fabric. “It’s alright, [Name],” Buck whispers to you. “Everything will be okay.. We’ll.. We’ll get you some help, alright? You aren’t alone..”

You just sob harder at that; you don’t think you deserve them, all of them. Buck, Maddie, Hen, Bobby.. They all came for you because they care, yet you feel so much guilt. “I’m- I’m sorry-“ You choke out, your shoulders shaking with a good amount of force from the sobs escaping your chest. “Y-you guys, you guys shouldn’tseemelikethis-“

“Hey, hey hey hey, breathe for us, okay?” Hen’s voice breaks through the air into your ears, making you turn your head to look at her. Buck’s heart breaks inside of his chest. It feels like his heart is crumbling and infecting the rest of his organs with hurt. You’re terribly sweaty, you’re crying which is most definitely dehydrating you further, your hair is mess, you have dark bags under your eyes—you aren’t doing well and Buck isn’t sure how he didn’t see it before.

You take a slow but shaky deep inhale, earning a smile from Hen. “That’s good, now another one..” Her hand grabs your shoulder gently as you follow her instructions. The sweet flow of oxygen makes your lungs ache, your fingertips feel fuzzy. You’ve never been so h grateful to breathe in the air.

Buck kisses your forehead gently, cradling you close as if letting you go means you’ll slip away forever.

“I’ve been in your same exact position, [Name].” Bobby says quietly. “I don’t know the exact reasonings for your drinking, but trust me, I will be there every step of the way. So will everyone else.”

You sniffle and nod as your eyes burn with more tears, but you quickly wipe them away. You feel so nauseous, so out of it, but Buck’s arms are warm and everyone else’s presence are like a soft blanket, keeping everything else at bay.

Maybe you can let them help. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

[zoeykallus]

Hi here ♥ ! I hope you're all right. Thanks for all the Bad Batch contents you give us. You have no idea how much your texts help me feel better. Can you write something about The Bad Batch react/protecting their love interest from a grossophobic insult or insinuation ? Thanks and take care ♥♥

Aloha! Well, sure, still breathing 😁 I'm so glad I was able to make you feel better with my writing! Thank you for telling me that, it does me good too 😊

So I have to be honest, I had to google 'grossophobic', I have to admit I haven't dealt with this term before. Google first tried to convince me I was meaning glossophobia, which is the fear of speaking to people in public, like on a stage. Somewhere in between was a French article about grossophobia, also called fat-shaming. So I guess I'm on the right track now? Let's see what the boys have to say about that.

The Bad Batch x Reader HCs - Reactions To Body-Shaming

Warnings: Body Shaming/Hurt/Comfort/Fluff/Strong Language

____________

Base Situation:

While walking with your lover through the market grounds on Naboo, you are insulted by a passerby who comments negatively on your physical appearance as you look at something at a stall, making you feel super uncomfortable. How does your partner react to this?

_______________

Hunter

"Shut your mouth, or I'll shut it for you".

He has no patience for such idiots, and even less understanding. Hunter is angry, he would like to dish out a few good slaps, but he pulls himself together as long as he can, he doesn't want to look like a troublemaker in front of you.

It depends on how far the harasser is willing to go, if he doesn't stop or says something stupid, it could be that Hunter gets physical and pulls that idiot's ears out, pretty much literally.

Of course, Hunter will immediately take care of comforting you and assuring you how wonderful you are to him as soon as the troublemaker has cleared the field.

He grabs a little flower by the wayside and tucks it behind your ear with a smile.

"You must never take such idiots seriously, you are wonderful in every way".

No matter how insecure you are about the stupid comments, Hunter isn't deterred.

He gently caresses your cheek and solemnly says, "I love every inch of your body, every curve, every little wrinkle, every little hair, every fiber, and all your mannerisms that make you who you are"

Echo

As civilized and orderly as he usually approaches things, here, in this situation, a nasty word or even a heavy object flies quickly in the direction of the harasser.

Echo feels such people as the scum of civilized society, to pick on people because of their appearance, is really the lowest level. He is particularly sensitive to this, because since the Citadel he has not exactly belonged to the so-called norm and has already had to listen to one or two nasty comments. If it concerns him, however, he usually has the calm and strength to simply overhear and ignore it.

Here, however, it's about you, and he can see how uncomfortable you feel, how the disgusting words get under your skin.

"You better run as fast as you talk shit, asshole".

But in his anger, he doesn't forget to take care of you either. Once he's taken care of the idiot, he takes your hand in his, brings it to his lips and kisses it gently.

"My wonderful Mesh'la, I'm so sorry, I hope you don't give ear to this nonsense".

Echo appreciates you in every way possible, as a lover, as a friend, as a person. He shows you that every day, he has a profound, loving respect for you. All in all, you can't feel ugly or unloved with him as a partner, he has a gentle hand for picking you up when you doubt yourself. And honestly, who could ever resist his sweet little, winning smile?

"Come, my beloved, we need a few more things for our romantic evening together. We should get candles too, don't you think?"

Wrecker

He is honestly surprised, he didn't expect this ugly hostility towards you, and he can't understand it at all. Wrecker adores you, and as it is when you are in love, you believe that the whole world sees your partner as you do. Wrecker learns here and now that this is not the case, and is quite shocked at first.

But then the anger boils up. When Wrecker asks somberly, "What did you just say to my partner?", most people usually run away.

Who wants to mess with such a beefy giant? Unless you might be a Wookie or of similar stature, but a Wookie would certainly never stoop to insulting someone because of their appearance.

Wrecker is not afraid to get his hands dirty, should the situation escalate, to deliver a few bloodcurdling blows here and there. But in general, he's actually a laid-back guy who doesn't get rattled by superficialities. He does, however, see red when it comes to you and especially when he can clearly see how much the matter is taking you down.

As soon as the harasser is put to flight, he devotes himself completely to you again.

"Hey sweetie, don't look so sad, that was just some idiot spouting nonsense, nothing more. You are stunning, in every way, he's just pissed because he can't have you".

He shows you his most loving, broadest smile.

"Come on, let me do something good for you. What would you like to do tonight?"

Tech

He has a surprisingly short fuse in this case, even if he otherwise seems rather orderly and calm. Tech is sensitive when it comes to attacks and insults of this kind. Being raised among so many brothers, all the same, as someone completely different has left a few scars.

It is not uncommon for Tech and his brothers to hear stupid sayings, to be called abnormalities, even freaks, and other unpleasant things. However, this has also created a certain skin. Attacks of this kind directed at him hurt, but are not worthy of a reaction from him. But now it is about you.

As I said, his fuse is suddenly very short. You are startled when he tasers the harasser without hesitation and leaves him in the dirt without comment. Tech won't let such an idiot scar you the way he's been scarred, too.

He gives you his warmest smile, strokes your cheek, and finally reaches for your hand.

"You are beautiful just the way you are, Cyare, the most beautiful being in this and every other galaxy, don't let anyone tell you otherwise".

Crosshair

"What did you shithead just say?"

Crosshair reacts quickly and aggressively. His posture changes, you can really feel it boiling under his skin, even if you're not touching him right now. He is so tense that you could swear you see sparks flying.

His posture makes you so nervous that you almost want to tell him to just ignore the guy, you don't want Crosshair to flip out in public, especially since you're supposed to be keeping a low profile.

Contrary to your expectations, Crosshair doesn't go after the man, his sharp gaze is enough to make the man walk backwards, slowly moving away from you, as if Crosshair is a predator that could attack him at any moment. The comparison is not so far-fetched.

He mumbles a curse or two to himself before taking a deep breath and turning back to you.

"Don't pout, little kitten, you can't be taking what that idiot said seriously."

He points to himself and says, "Hey, I'm by your side, I desire you, day and night, you can't be anything that bantha-shit eater said"

As you look up at him a little unsure, he says, "For all I care we can go find a hotel room right now, and I'll show you my love, in every detail, mesh'la"

What you don't know is that Crosshair won't let it go. As soon as he can, he goes looking, tracks down the guy and finally beats the shit out of him like he wanted to do from the start. He might come back to the Marauder one evening with a few bruises, but the other guy sure looks a lot worse. He won't really admit what happened if you ask him.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@taskfork-archive

@cpnt616

@starwarsnerd111

[moonsanoverthinker]

PLEASE TELL ME MORE ABOUT VOICE CHANGES IN TMA I WANT THE WHOLE RANT

LETS GO! Expect semi-coherent thoughts and a lot of random side notes. Also I apologise in advance for how long this post is, but then again I was asked for the whole thing and I like to over analyse x

Also second apologies, I didn’t intend for this to essentially become a weird essay / notes hybrid that goes well off topic! x

(This is JonMartin focused because those little men have a permanent place in my head)

Edit: I added the more thingy because then it’s not one super long text post (1. So I don’t have to scroll through it every time and 2. I only just found out I could do that!)

SERIES 1-5 SPOILERS (sorry forgot to add this!)

Series 1 Jon was fairly consistent in how he’d say Martin, usually pronouncing the R and the T, the ‘professional/formal’ way (Gotta try and convince people you are in fact the head archivist) as well as the tone usually being a little harsher when he was making unprompted jabs at Martin. (Also side note, MAG 14 where he talks about Martin maybe getting chopped up, sounding far too happy about that prospect Jon). MAG 22 is where we actually get to hear Martin, after hearing nothing but slander from Jon. Obviously he’s making a statement for a traumatic event but there’s a clear difference in how they speak in terms of confidence with Jon and nervousness from Martin. (Also side note 2, I listened to mag22 again and I forgot how much Martin wanted to prove his experience was real to skeptic Jon, makes me a little sad) That edge is still there in Jon’s voice but it’s softened the tiniest amount at the end when he’s actually providing solutions to Martin (Hurt/Comfort described as work) Then we get to MAG 39 where they have a real conversation! There’s still that ‘professional’ tone from Jon but this is the first time he actually has some form of emotion that isn’t annoyance, instead it’s fear. Also the ghost conversation where it just feels like the roles have flipped, with Jon being the one who doesn’t understand and Martin making fun of him. (Side note 3 I still think one of the funniest moments in MAG 39 when Martin mentions he records poetry on the tapes because of the lofi charm and then there’s the solid few seconds of silence with only the fire alarm sound).

Series 2 is pretty much the same between the two of them, but occasionally we start to see a different side to Martin when he’s answering Jon back. Like the whole ‘accidentally stabbing yourself with the bread knife’ conversation, he answers him a little firmer (like you would to someone you care about deeply) and in MAG 56 when Martins confronted by a paranoid Jon he answers in a firmer way but it feels less like it’s out of care and more just out of trying to diffuse the situation. Series 3 is where things start to change a little, we get Martin clearly being pleased about people saying him and Jon were ‘close’ as well as Jon mentioning ‘office gossip’ where he sounds like he’s attempting to convince himself ‘it’s natural and normal’. (The denial was strong)

Series 4 is where the big changes come from the two of them, and to me it almost feels like a role switch between them. Jon becomes the one practically pining and Martin becomes the one to deny it. There’s Jon demanding to know what Elias did to Martin, the constant asking about him as well as Jon actively seeking Martin out several times. MAG 124 is the first conversation between the two of them in series 4, Jon sounds excited to talk but Martin just sounds flat (it gives series 1 vibes) and this same pattern of Jon’s tone changing while Martins stays flat is carried on throughout. Then we get to MAG 154 (let’s gouge our eyes out and run away!) But first Jon thanks Martin for the ‘intervention’ which has says in that sarcastic tone, Martin jumps to the defence and Jon apologises and that is when Martin almost goes back to sounding how he used to. Then we get to the big we can leave together moments, Jon’s frantically trying to convince Martin and there’s a genuine hope ‘I could derail everything. We could derail everything and then just leave!’ To which he is met with Martin shutting it down with the harsh reality of the situation. Then we get the Mahtin’s (I can hear it, I don’t know how else to write it) and relief from the two of them as they leave the lonely together (I’m not crying) and everything ends in the cabin, nothing bad happens and they just live in Scotland with the cows

We’ve made it to series 5 where things are a little bit fucked! So let’s start at the beginning, Jon just sounds defeated, the thing he’s being trying to stop is everyone’s issue and he feels it’s his fault. Martins trying to sound reassuring and hopeful that things can be changed. Also there’s the various points where they sound almost happy despite the situation, ‘Eye spy literally everything’ ‘You are my reason. Just wanted to make you say it!’ And there’s warmth to the two of them, an oddly refreshing happiness that only comes in those short moments before everything’s awful again. (Side note 4, maybe I’ve got it a little wrong but Martin sounds less nervous in his voice, follows the character development of adapting and becoming a stronger character from dealing with everything) ‘You have to promise me, that your going to do everything in your power to live’ There’s a firmness in Martins voice but it sounds more like he’s either trying to convince himself that Jon would do that or he’s trying to convince Jon to do it. MAG 194 starts with the argument as the reality of it all is finally recognised. Martins clearly hurt by Jon claiming ‘it’s the only option’ resulting in him sounding more frustrated and almost like a petulant child. ‘Breaking his promise.’ ‘That’s not fair’ Jon just snaps at the accusation, despite it being partially true. This argument is similar to MAG 154 (to me at least) because of the pleading and convincing from Jon and the disagreement and bordering mocking from Martin. Jon was in an impossible decision and was attempting to justify his own sacrifice but Martin was mostly focused on the two of them living. ‘Tough! The world doesn’t care what you accept. It just is.’ Is Jons final attempts in the argument, he knows there is limited options and limited survival rates, it’s like he’s accepted the end of it all, then Jon does the statement, proceeds to make a joke of the lack of arguments given by it and says ‘I’m going to go and apologise to my boyfriend’ and there’s the brief smile in his voice again. Jump ahead a little to MAG 199 where we get the somewhat calm before the storm. And there’s a weird calmness to the two of them when they talk but there’s a mix of defeat and acceptance from Jon because he was always going to try and sacrifice himself, and then there’s defeat and hope from Martin because he knew Jon would try but clings to the hope that maybe everything will be okay. Ah onto MAG 200 the one that proceeds to hurt us all, again there’s the acceptance from Jon but also fear and determination to ‘win’ over the fears no matter what it costs him. Martins a mix of betrayal, anger, sadness, fear because well the promise was broken and he was going to be alone again. But it’s the final moments, there’s fear but they still cling to hope that they will be together no matter what happens.

[rebelwhump]

Bathtub: Part 2

Part 1

CW: emeto

__

“Jazz, what’s…oh shit!” Alice exclaimed, throwing the door open and stepping inside. “Are you okay? What the fuck happened?” 

Alice couldn’t answer, too distraught and embarrassed about what had just transpired. Her face was wet with tears as she stopped gagging and started to sob. 

“Hey, you’re alright. I’m gonna help you, okay?” Alice knelt down next to the tub, careful to avoid the puddle of sick that had sloshed over the edge. 

Jasmine brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I…w-want my…want b-brett.”

“I know, babes. Let’s get you out of the tub,” Alice said, looking down at the yellowish vomit floating on the water's surface. “Uh, can you open the drain? Then we can rinse you off.” Although puke didn’t really bother her, she would rather avoid having to stick her arm in that water. 

“M’sorry. This is s-so gross,” Jasmine cried while submerging her hand to search for the drain and pulled the plug. Slowly, the water receded, leaving chunks of vomit that were too big to fit down the drain. Alice grimaced.

“It’s fine,” she said - not denying the fact that it was, indeed, gross - “Let’s just get you out and dressed.” She helped her friend stand in the tub while turning on the shower head to rinse her off. Being roommates for years, they had seen each other naked or in various states of undress before, but this was a particularly vulnerable moment. Alice averted her eyes as much as possible to allow her some semblance of privacy. 

A sudden gag brought Alice’s sky blue eyes back up to meet Jasmine’s rich dark brown ones. They conveyed an overwhelming sense of fear and humiliation. Jasmine slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a thick belch. 

“Don’t fight it. You’re already in the tub, might as well let it out.” Alice could see her struggling to hold it in. A strong thump on her back had Jasmine burping up a stream of vomit into the bath. She struggled to catch her breath, more tears streaming down her face. “You good?”

Although she wasn’t sure she was completely empty, she let Alice wrap her in a turquoise towel and guide her out of the tub to sit on the lid of the toilet. “I wanna die,” she whimpered, hugging her tender tummy.

Limp as a rag doll, Alice struggled to help her friend dress and comb her unnaturally long hair. They stumbled into Jasmine's bedroom together, as she was too dizzy to make the walk there unassisted. She collapsed onto the bed, now wearing a pair of loose fitting blue sweats and a thin white t-shirt. Curling up, she grabbed a pillow and hugged it to her middle.

“My tummy hurts and I feel so sick and I just want Brett, but he won’t text me back because I’m a terrible girlfriend and I’m too much and…” 

“Woah, slow down there,” Alice interrupted. Her friend was spiraling, and she cringed at how pitiful she sounded. “Look, I’ll call your boy toy, okay? Just lay here and try not to puke again.” 

Out in the living room, Alice pulled out Jasmine’s phone and scrolled through her contacts before coming across Brett’s name with a bunch of heart emojis after it. It rang and rang before going to voicemail, which was full. She tried calling again and finally someone answered the phone. 

“Hello?” The voice was deep and smooth. 

“Brett? This is Alice, Jasmine's roommate.”

“Brett’s not able to come to the phone right now. I’m his brother, Paul.” 

Why the fuck was his brother answering his phone? Alice thought. “Do you normally go around answering other people's phones?”

 “What do you…” she cut him off. 

“Nevermind. Look, I need to speak with Brett. It’s about his girlfriend. She’s really sick.”

“If it’s a stomach bug, she most likely caught it from my brother. He’s been laid up for days and just fell asleep…I’m actually in the middle of something, but I’ll tell him you called when he wakes up,” Paul said before promptly ending the call.

Alice scoffed and headed back into the bedroom. Jasmine was still curled up with a pillow, sniffling pitifully. “Looks like your boyfriend was patient zero. Sounds like he’s not gonna be able to come over Jazz. I’m sorry.”

Jasmine lifted her head, eyes wide. “You talked to him?

“No, his brother. What a dick,” she exclaimed.

“Paul?” She sounded surprised. “He’s always been nice to me.” A burp slipped past her lips and she grimaced at the sour taste that lingered on her tongue. 

“Yeah, well, he said Brett’s asleep but that he’d let him know we called.” Alice went about setting up the room to get Jasmine ready for the night. She replaced the half-full plastic bag that lined the small waste bin, setting it next to the bed. A bottle of aspirin and a glass of water were put within reach on the nightstand. “Need anything else?”

“No,” Jasmine whispered, her voice hoarse from puking. Alice rubbed her arm before heading back out into the living room, leaving the door open a crack in case she called for her. 

The night was pretty uneventful after that - Jasmine slept while Alice played Horizon Zero Dawn on her PlayStation. Until around 1am, when there was a knock at the door. Alice looked through the peephole to find Brett standing on the other side. She opened the door to reveal a disheveled man with a head of messy brown curls, wearing Nike shorts and a pair of black slides. 

“Where is she?” Brett said urgently, pushing his way past Alice in the doorway. 

“Come on in, why don’t you.” She rolled her eyes. “Jazz is sleeping. Which is what I thought you were doing? You look like you could use it.”

Brett stumbled into the kitchen, waving Alice off. “I’m fine. How is she?” A part of her was jealous that her friend had someone who cared for her enough to show up in the middle of the night, clearly still sick himself, just to check on his girlfriend. 

“After pulling an exorcist in the bathtub, I got her into bed and she knocked the fuck out shortly after,” Alice explained, pulling out a chair from their dining room table. “Here. Sit down before you keel over. You look like shit.”

“Gee, thanks,” Brett rolled his eyes, but followed her suggestion and sat down anyway. He was still feeling drained and a little woozy from his own bout with the stomach flu. 

A glass of water was pushed into his hand, urging him to drink. He definitely needed it. He was so dehydrated after being unable to keep down fluids for over a day. Brett greedily slurped it down before letting out a relieved sigh. Alice raised an eyebrow and refilled the glass for him, but he suddenly realized that all that water was sitting quite heavily in his belly. He rubbed his stomach and let out a small wet burp. 

“You okay?” Alice asked. In response, Brett nodded but kept his mouth closed as he swallowed down another burp. The thought of grabbing a bowl or trash can crossed Alice’s mind, but was quickly dismissed when they heard retching coming from the other room. 

The two of them appeared in the doorway to find Jasmine’s shadowed figure hunched over the bin that was now on the bed, between her legs. Alice turned on her bedside lamp while Brett crawled onto the mattress and held the hair back from his girlfriend's face while she continued to heave. When Jasmine finally opened her eyes, her mouth dropped at the sight of her partner in bed with her. 

“W-what are you doing here?” She asked weakly, arms still wrapped around the small trash can filled with vomit. 

“My brother told me you were sick. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner, baby,” he replied, gently rubbing her back. Tears filled her eyes as she nuzzled up to him, burying her face in his neck. Alice was quick to grab the sick bin before she knocked it over and went to the bathroom to replace the plastic bag liner. 

“I-I t-thought you were m-mad at m-me,” Jasmine sobbed into his shoulder. His heart broke at her confession.

“Oh babe, no. I’m not mad at you. Not at all!” Brett assured her. 

“But y-you didn’t an-answer my texts.” She muffled a sickly little burp into his now damp shirt. 

“I’m so so sorry. I’ve been really sick, baby. The last couple days have been a total blur.” He continued to rub her back while she curled up in his lap. “I’m gonna…make it up to you though,” he paused, swallowing hard. There was a lump in his throat and the water he slurped down was sloshing uncomfortably in his belly. Jasmine’s ear was pressed to his tummy and she could hear the upset gurgles and whines.

“Are you okay?” She asked nervously, sitting up to get a good look at her boyfriend's face. He was pale and a little shaky, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He swallowed convulsively, throat bobbing, before moving quickly off the bed and out of the room. He barely made it to the bathroom before the water came rushing up and he dove for the sink. 

Alice was still in the bathroom, cleaning out the waste bin in the tub after discovering an unfortunate hole in the plastic bag. “What the fuck!?” Brett was panting over the sink, one hand bracing himself on the counter, while the other was clutching his stomach.

“Oh god…m’ sorry,” he mumbled as he wiped his chin with his sleeve. Alice walked over and placed a hand on his back, waiting for him to finish.

“Alright, let’s get you back to bed with the other sickie.” She escorted him back to the room and he crawled into bed next to his girlfriend who was sitting up with a worried expression on her face. 

“I’m fine, babe. I guess my stomach’s still a little sensitive,” he explained while gently patting his tummy. “Sorry.” Brett’s eyes were apologetic. He felt bad because he went there with the intention of taking care of his girlfriend and ended up getting sick himself. He knew how she reacted to puking and he was scared that he’d trigger a panic attack. However, she surprised him by wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Jasmine said softly. They melted into each other's touch, getting comfortable on the bed. 

Alice brought in another trash can and glass of water to set on Brett’s side of the bed. “You two get some rest. Just holler if you need me…and try not to puke on anything.” 

Brett rolled his eyes and Jasmine’s already flushed cheeks deepened in color. “How’s your tummy?” He asked.

“Uhm…not so good,” she replied sheepishly. 

“Would you like me to rub it?” Jasmine froze at the thought of him touching her stomach when it was this upset. It made her uncomfortable, but she also desperately wanted relief from the crampy sensation in her gut. Deciding to let him comfort her, she nodded and he reached his hand under her top to palm her bloated belly. Gently, he began massaging her upper abdomen, slowly moving down past her belly button. “Is this okay?”

“Ye-URRP.” She was cut off by a loud belch that was dislodged when he pressed on a pocket of gas in her tummy. Smothering her face into his thigh, she let out a whine. “Oh my god. I’m sorry. That’s so gross.”  

Brett chuckled and ran his fingers through her shiny black hair. “Baby, don’t worry about it. You’re never gross. Do you feel better now?”

“Yeah, a little,” she admitted, feeling slightly less bloated. 

“Good.” He continued with the belly rub, coaxing up a couple more burps, and once again, Jasmine hid her face in embarrassment. They stayed like that for almost an hour until Jasmine’s eyelids grew heavy and she relaxed enough to fall asleep. Shortly after, Brett did too, his arms still wrapped around her small frame. 

[sashaisready]

Chapter 7a - Underestimate

Nick Fowler x Shy CIA Employee

Under the Radar Masterlist

Chapter 6 - File

Warnings: References to sex trafficking, violence and some gore descriptions, misogynistic references

(One final part to come! Thank you so much for reading/commenting/reblogging so far - it’s been so lovely seeing your reactions!)

Wordcount: 2300

“Joe….hey” you mumble, trying your best to mask your sheer terror. You figure you might as well try to feign innocence…it wasn’t likely to work…but it’s all you had.

“Can you believe it?” You surprise yourself when it comes out in a somewhat sunshiney tone that you desperately pulled from some hidden depths. “I was just going to bed and saw that report didn’t attach to my email to Walsh. So I just came in to send it…what a ditz huh?” You laugh hollowly.

He smiles. You never noticed how shark-like his smile looked until just now. How his eyes are just…empty…soulless. 

It’s clear he’s not buying it, but you continue.

“H-how about you? Burning the midnight oil?” You plaster a smile over your face. The sides of your mouth ache with the strain. 

“Sure am” he says quietly. “I get a lot of my best work done at night, actually”.

You nod. “Well…I don’t want to distract you any further. My bed is calling! I’ll see you tomorrow”.

You lurch forward towards the door but a strong arm shoots up and blocks your movement.

“Joe…” you whisper, your voice thick with fear. You’re suddenly very aware of his strength, his size. The way he looms over you. You had considered that attractive just a few hours before, but now it seems chilling.

“No. Stay”.

Your strained smile appears again. “I really shouldn’t…”

His eyes move to the folder in your hands then back to your face again. “Did I forget to file that away? Whoops. How careless of me” he smirks. “Looks like I need to brush up on my confidentiality training”.

You can’t speak. You just stare back at him, your throat drying up and your breath strangled.

He sighs dramatically. “A pity. You’ve messed up the timeline now…”

Your eyes widen as you stare back at him. “Joe…you’re…you’re part of Project Cotton?” You eke out. “How…how could you? What…”

He rolls his eyes. “Spare me the theatrics” he groans. “Now I have to accelerate things…” he picks up his phone from his pocket and begins to send a text. “Typical you, huh sweetheart? Too involved for your own good. Anyone else would’ve ignored the file…or not even come into the office at this time just to send a damn email…but of course you did. And now I gotta change the plan. Ugh…”

You’re still in shock. “Joe…how could you do this to me?” You whisper. “We’re friends…we nearly kissed-”

He laughs. “Are we friends? Or have I just thrown you a few lines to show what a good guy I am, and get you to trust me?”

You stammer, trying to respond but unable to find the words. 

“It’s easy, really. I throw out a few choice words - tell you how proud I am of you, how smart you are…and you eat it up and I get you on side. I pretend I shun the guys’ nights, stick up for you so you can see how brave I am…simple. It’s always the same with girls like you” he shrugs. 

“And then I act like I like you…but tell you we can’t be together yet cos it’s not appropriate…yada yada yada…and that means you trust me and think I have integrity because I didn’t immediately try to fuck you. But then…And sorry we’re skipping this part so you have to use your imagination…I have an epiphany! And I do want to be with you!! And when I take you out on our ‘date’ you follow me willingly wherever I tell you to because you trust me implicitly - no matter how late at night it is. And then I do the drop off, my buyer pays the full balance and poof!…I’m 50k richer”.

“You’re…you’re a monster” you shriek as you back away from him.

He shrugs. “Look…it’s nothing personal. It’s just business”.

“I have friends…family…and…and I work for the CIA!! They’ll notice I’m gone”.

He laughs cruelly. “Well, you don’t really do you? Yeah that Annie chick. But that’s kinda it. You’re perfect for this really, lonely and quiet…not many people who’d miss you. Hardly anyone even knows you exist at work…really you’re the perfect candidate”.

“No…no” you protest, your eyes streaming with tears. “Walsh…he’ll…he’ll…”

“Oh please. Walsh will do a sad email to the department or something but he’ll move on. We know how to cover our tracks, sweetheart. They won’t come looking for you”.

You bite your lip, desperately trying to think of a way out. Unable to grasp the ease with which your existence could just be forgotten about. All this time your shyness was making you the perfect victim.

“I’d been scoping you out for a while” says Joe. “And when Walsh put you on Cotton? Man! I couldn’t believe my luck” he laughed. 

“So…so…you’ve been part of Cotton this whole time?”

He nods proudly. “Sure have. Why do you think we never get anywhere? Why do you think we never got any names? Why so many bad leads led us down the garden path? It’s easy to plant bad intel if you know how…”

You stare at him open mouthed as the pieces clicked into place. “That’s why you didn’t want me working on the surveillance footage…you weren’t trying to save me the work…you didn’t want me finding anything…”

He sneers. “Ugh. Yeah that was a small setback. Walsh can be so stubborn when he’s made up his mind…and yeah catching Uncle Ray on camera was a pain in my ass…but I tipped him off and he got out in time sooo…no harm done”.

You choke on your sob. “Colebrook is your…un-uncle?”

“You got it. He met my dad at Cosmos back in the 70s and they realised they had a common interest” he grinned. “I got in on the family business early, but they realised I was much better placed somewhere that could help them. So I joined the training academy, worked my way up and here I am. Quite the side hustle, huh?” He sniggered. 

“What…trafficking women?” You hissed. 

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t use words like that…they’re so ugly. We’re just…making our members happy”.

“You piece of shit!!” You scream, lunging at him as your anger boiled to a crescendo. “How can you do this?? To innocent women?? You’re meant to be helping people!!”

He knocks you back with a single hand, then subtly pulls back his suit jacket to reveal his firearm stored in its holster. You breathe sharply.

“Let’s not do anything silly, sweetheart” he warns gravely, the threat clear. 

“Honestly, for a second I thought you were gonna figure it out when you saw my dad’s file” he laughs.

Your blood runs cold as you remembered the familiar photograph in that file. How you could’ve sworn you’d seen him before. Now it seemed so obvious, the way Joe shut it suddenly and distracted you with lunch…the similarity of features between the two or them. The same shark-like grin…

You felt a fool. A fool for walking straight into his trap.

A fool for ignoring Nick’s warning.

Oh, Nick. Did he know? Probably not. But he knew Joe wasn’t to be trusted. He had better instincts than you. You wished you could tell him how sorry you were. 

“Nick knew you were no good…” you breathed quietly.

Joe scoffed. “Oh, Fowler. Of course he did. He’s always been fond of you, you know he beat the shit out of Leigh for how he spoke about you?” He laughed.

“W-what?”

“Oh. You didn’t know? Ha! Yeah he pummelled Leigh after he insulted you that day in the office. Told him if he was ever rude about you again he’d tear him limb from limb. Why do you think Leigh creeps around you like a skittish puppy now? He’s terrified Nick will finish him off if he upsets you again. Honestly wish I’d thought of that…that would’ve won you over even quicker”.

You stared into space as you took this in, numb at this information. Nick had…defended your honour? Why didn’t he say anything? Why didn’t he just tell Leigh to shut up at the time?

“Anyway. Enough chitchat…we gotta go” Joe sighed, as if you were some tedious chore. 

“W-where?” 

“Well obviously now you know the truth I gotta get you delivered. So chop chop…”

You swallowed. “No…”

“No?” He laughed. “Sweetheart, you don’t have much of a choice here”. He flashed the gun again. “Now…are you going to come quietly or do I need to be a bit meaner?”

“You…you can’t hurt me” you stammered, as bravely as you could. “You…you need me in good shape to complete the sale”.

He chuckled. “True. But I can always give him a slight discount if the product gets damaged in transit…”

You flinched, unable to comprehend how easily he described you as an object. You feel nauseated wondering how many girls he’s done this to. How many lives he and his horrible family had destroyed. 

You suddenly felt blind rage. Hatred and anger curdled in your soul. The audacity to treat women like products. The sheer gall to run your criminal operation from a CIA office. Well, it was hiding in plain sight. Clever really, if not diabolical.

You began to walk backwards as he stalked toward you, his hand resting over his gun. “We’ve had our fun…c’mon. Let’s go”.

“Grant on the front desk knows I’m here” you hissed. “And there’s CCTV, a record of my key card swiping in…”

Joe yawned as if bored with your attempts at logic. “The security guards just switched shifts. I’ll take you out the back, put you in my car and I’ll go casually tell Ernie you rushed home feeling unwell. Then I’ll arrange a few fake sightings of you over the next few days so I wasn’t the last one to see you…oh, and I’ve tampered with the CCTV” he grinned. “The monitors will be showing a loop of the empty office. I always use it when I come here late. No trail that way”.

You gulped as you continued backing up, the cool wood of Joe’s desk hitting the back of your thighs as you realised where you were. 

He had thought of everything.

…Almost. 

Your whole life, people underestimated you. They thought quiet meant stupid. They thought shy meant you weren’t listening. That you weren’t paying attention. But you were. You always were.

Nick had underestimated you. So had Walsh to some extent. It was a pattern that had followed you for your whole life. 

Joe had underestimated you too. He thought he had you all figured out because he’d used a few nice words and pretended to care about you. He thought you were passive and meek, that you wouldn’t fight. 

If you’d learned anything from your time at the CIA, even from the periphery of the action, it was was that one of the biggest mistakes you could make was underestimating your opponent. 

It seems Joe hadn’t learned that lesson yet. 

But you would teach him. 

He grinned sinisterly as he moved towards you. You knew you only had one shot. Your body seemed to move by itself as your hands moved behind you, quickly sliding along the desk until you found what you were looking for.

“Let’s go” he growled.

Joe clasped his hands around your shoulders and ripped you away from the desk just as your fingers wrapped around the sleek metal of the letter opener you’d dropped on his desk just minutes before he found you. Now or never.

You brought it up high and slammed it at full force into his neck with all the strength that you had. It made a sickening squishing sound as it broke the skin and tore through the muscle, the blood immediate and gushing.

He let out a low howl of pain like a struck animal as he stumbled and gasped in shock, his hands leaving you immediately and moving to the wound.

You staggered back, eyes wide - not quite believing what you’d done as you looked down at your blood soaked hand. You began to run then, your legs like jelly as you attempted to round the desk and make a beeline for the exit.

“Not so fast you little bitch” he wheezed as he lunged towards you, tearing you down to the ground as you screamed and he rolled you over on your front. You laid there dazed, desperately trying to think of another plan. 

“Looks like I’ll lose a sale, but it’ll be worth it” he hissed through gritted teeth as he pulled out his gun and placed the barrel to your forehead, his limbs clumsy and heavy as he groaned in pain and the blood slowly darkened his suit. The letter opener was still in his neck, jutting out at a grotesque angle. 

You gasped and squeezed your eyes shut as the metal dug hard into your forehead. You could hear his breathing deepen painfully and tried to take solace in the hope that he might bleed out after you were dispatched. At least it wouldn’t have all been in vain. 

You felt a tear escape down your cheek as you waited for the end. You thought of Annie. You thought of your family. Even Nick. Oh, Nick. He had been so awful but you couldn’t deny how he made you feel. How much you missed him. If you had listened to him about Joe then you wouldn’t be here.

You heard the gunshot which surprised you. You thought the bullet would’ve gone into your skull before you registered the sound. But it was so loud. So loud. Your ears rung in the aftermath. You waited…but nothing happened. You heard shouting and heavy footsteps and your eyes flew open.

Joe was collapsed on the floor beside you, eyes closed but groaning. Still alive.

What…?

Then you felt the hands on your waist. Someone else. You peered up and found his bright blue irises staring back at you. He was speaking, his face twisted in fear, but you couldn’t hear the words. You just gazed up at him, trying to make sense of what happened. 

“Nick…?” You whispered. 

Chapter 7b - All of Them (Final Part)

[itspdameronthings]

Never Letting You Go Ch10

Summary: Okay! Here it is!! Another filled chapter. Promise there will be some romance in the next chapter. Maybe do a mini one. In this chapter deals with Will meeting Jay Milles. Also deals with Santi's emotional state. Not giving too much away. Benny tries to help.

Warning: mentions emotional breakdowns. if this bothers you? skim pass that part.

 hearing his cousin’s voice after all of these years hurt his soul. His buddy was always Willthere when he needed advice on things. Taught him how to be the older brother. When Jay left to pursue his Olympic dream,and going to jail for the reason Will forgot about. Now he is on the phone. Went outside to chat so the others can't hear,” Now you call you no go for nothing scumbag! Hiddin from the world doesn't fucking help! I should know! Been there and done that! Benny needed ya! Not to mentionLittle Bit Remember her?! Fragile girl ya promised to look after Benny and I when we were in the Army?!” Jay tried to get a word in but it was no use! Till he yells,” I fucking get it?! Shit! Was in a bad place?! Was messed up after picking up that crazy hitchhiker ! Thought.. I loved her man! Reason for the call. I'm aware of the crazy mother situation. Wanna help okay? Maybe.. I can ya know stay with Benny and Little Bit so you can do what you were planning! Let me try to make things right? Ready to come out of hiding.” 

Hiding? Is that what Jay calls it? More like running. Will can't really blame him. Seen this behavior in Santi many many times. Reason why he took the FBI job. Thought he wasn't a good man for you. Finally he realized that you are his rock. Reason for living. Benny too. Which he never admitted to. Started to have feelings for him soon after the three of you got together. Took a breath,” Where are you? I can come over to pick ya up.” Taking a deep breath,” I'm at the diner across the street from your gym. “ 

Will comes back inside. Sees his brother on the couch. Sees Santi and Frankie is out of ear shot whispers,” Going into town for abit. Won't be long. “ Benny nods from his seat. Not before looking upstairs thinking about you. Hope you are resting. Little does your family know. You are about to sneak out. Opening the balcony door very quickly,and quietly. Walking slowly down the stairs only to see Will looking at you,” Where do you think you are going? If you are runnin away..” Taking a deep breath while fixing a messy ponytail while walking towards the truck,” Need to be with my big brother right now. Is that too much to ask? Go out like we used to. “ Reach out to pull your delicate frame into his strong arms. True he missed those times where the two of you went out . Talking about what's going on with them. Kisses top of your head,” Sure why not. Have to tell ya reason for goin into town.” 

“ Shittin me?! Jay ?! After how many fuckin years! Why now! “ Tightened the grip on the steering wheel while driving down the gravel road,” Wants to help okay? He knows what happened at home. Just give him a chance okay?” This isn't sitting well for you. His name has no bearing to you. Hurt when he left. No good bye nada. Never knew the real reason why he left after the Olympics. Knew he and his father had a falling out,but why ? Can't wait to hear his explanation.

Benny goes upstairs to see the bed empty. Okay, look in the bathroom. Followed by the rest of the house. Fear gripping him . Fearing that something has happened. Run downstairs to see the others. Panicking,” She's gone ! Can't find her! “ Santi tried to call the young man down just enough to hope he could get through to him,” We know she won't go far. Bet she is either with Sam ,or Will. Even at the pier throwing rocks in the lake. “ Frankie goes over to the side to text Will to see where you were. Few seconds later Will texted back. Wasn't Will was you. Saying that you are with him. Not to worry. 

“ She's with Ironhead. Not to worry. I'm gonna go to pick up the wifey and baby girl. I'll be back soon. “ Benny walks over to his friend hugging him,” Thanks man for helpin. I know Rose might not understand why ya don this dangerous thang.” Frankie smiles,” oh she will. Have to protect the ones we care about. As for your brother coming with me? Think that might be a possibility. “ 

Both of you arrived at the diner. In the window see Jay . After all of these years. Still looks and dresses the same. Jeans gray tee to match his mood. Will takes your hand to deliver some strength,” Would be okay hon. Try to hear him out kay? Besides, I'll order ya your favorite comfort food. “ First time today a smile brighten your face,* Love that big brother. Maybe… can you order something for the boys? Ya know? Peace offering? Especially… my Santi. Shouldn't have yelled at him like that. I… know he wants to protect me.” Taking a deep breath Will looks at you nods,” Think that would be a good idea Little Bit. Be just a moment, okay?” 

Jay looks to his left. Sees Will. Cousin who hasn't changed all too much. Even though he is more muscular. You on the other hand have changed so much. Not that awkward teen that wore black all the time. Looking like a beautiful woman, Benny is so lucky . Noticed you looking at him. Look at both sad,and anger. Goes over to both of you,” Look good Little Bit. Good to see you.” Look in your eyes caused you to yell loud enough for him to hear,” You have no right to call me that! Only ones I care about can!   That promise was broken! Will says I have to give ya benefit of a doubt. Be with your family.” Hearing this made Will smile. Cleared his throat,” She's right cuz. Now… tell us what happened at home “  Leading two of you to the table. Not missing a beat sitting across from both of you,” All I can say the crazy mama reminded me of that chick that wrecked me.” 

Santi is alone with his thoughts. Thinking about you. His precious baby girl. Hate to see that look of sadness in those eyes. Ones that could calm his very soul. Followed by your soft touches. Leaning against the porch railing watching the wind blowing the trees,but he doesn't know that Benny is watching from afar. Thinking about the same thing. Stands next to him. Cleared his throat,” She needs us more than ever ya know. Her mental health is so fragile. Can't see her break down again. Broke my heart when it happened last time. “ Santi looks at Benny ,”  Exactly what happened. She never opened up to me. Was it during a trauma?” Time for him to find out the truth. Truth about the one before that. One that still haunts him to this day,” Wasn't long after you joined the FBI btw I know why taking that job. Thought you weren't good enough for her. Never said anything. Her mom managed to find her when she was an intern. She was in the ER with heart problems. Baby girl lost it. Which Sam had to call me. Gemma in her state managed to lay in on her. That's when I arrived at her aid.  Poor baby girl was shaking like a leaf.after that moment brought her to the farm to help her .  Took her a few days to calm down. “ Santi started to understand. Heart tried not to break. Was surprised when Benny held him in his arms. Rubbing his back,” Let it out daddy. I'm right here. We will get through this together. “ Santi melts into his embrace. At that moment he didn't want to let go of the younger Miller. For the longest time he withheld his true feelings for him. Thought it was a phase. Would pass. Until three of you got married. Those feelings came back with a vengeance. Were moments he would spill his guts,but lost his nerve. Not gonna chicken out now. Softly sobbed on Benny,’s chest,” Wanna tell you something that I should have told you a long time ago. I love you. Not like a brother,but.. more like how our baby does. It finally hit me when you were in the hospital after your last fight. Wanted to be with you so bad! Even on our wedding night. Even when you had a nightmare when she and Will went off on an adventure together. Wanted to comfort you like she does.” Benny held him tighter. Those words filled his heart with joy. Took him long enough to tell him. Kisses his head,” took ya long enough to tell me. Was waitin to see how long you would tell me. I'm glad ya did. Don't want ya to be afraid to talk to me,and kitten. We are a family member? “ 

You and Will arrive home. Jay slowly gets out of his truck. Look around the property. Nestled two modern looking  farmhouses. Sam comes running towards her husband,” Glad your home my captain. Oh! See we have a guest?” Takes her hand in his large one,” Yeah, my cousin Jay. He will be staying with us While I go to help Fish. “ Jay comes over, you whisper,” I will keep my promise this time. Need ya to believe me.” Slowly walking away with a bag of food,” Hope you do. Now excuse me. Have to get home to my boys.” 

Walking up towards the porch,  see  a beautiful site. Your boys sharing a beautiful moment. Didn't want to interrupt till Benny sees you. Reches his hand out,” Glad your home kitten. See you brought food! Let's go inside “ Santi pulls you close to him kissing your forehead,” Sorry I upset you before. Old habits you know. See now I have to stay. Help you heal not like before. “ Hugging him tighter,” Glad to hear that daddy. Glad both of you finally shared a tender moment. Yes I saw both of you kiss just now. Wouldn't want to miss both of you share more than a kiss “

Tag list: @rhoorl,@laurfilijames @romanarose @musings-of-a-rose

[n3tworksucks]

Quackity fic where him and reader are best friends who are in love with each other??

hey! so sorry for the wait and thank you for requesting. sorry if it not quite what you wanted but I tried so lmk if its good or not cus idk lol

summary: you and alex have been best friends for years, but you start to get a feeling that maybe you should be more. so you decide to talk to him about it.

warnings: use of quackitys real names, like one cuss word lmk if i missed any

word count:1189

I think I love you

you and alex. alex and you. that how its always been for the past few years. the chaotic duo all your friends in school knew, the sweet and loving friendship yours and his parents knew, the bond you and him knew would last a lifetime. you always had a strong feeling in your chest when you were around him, pushing it off thinking it was just the excitement of getting to spend another day together,or opening his texts or answering his calls a little too quickly(which you nor him minded anyways).and maybe Alex felt the same as well, only really wanting to go to school because you were there, or making room on his schedule to go downtown with you and do stupid shit. yeah, maybe that is just what best friends do for each other, but something with yours and his feelings always felt extra, like something was trying with everything in its power to get you closer,but you would again push it off because how in the world would you guys get any closer than you already were, already knowing each others worst fears, most embarrassing moments or darkest secrets. well except one,

which is "I think I might love you". and of course you would never tell him that. it was just a silly little thought that no meaning whatsoever..which is what you would try to tell yourself whenever you would think of it, and you never really did think of it a lot. only whenever you had meaningful conversations and 3am, and whenever he would say something that would make you laugh, and whenever you were with him… and whenever you thought of him… ok so I guess all the time but come on, hes such a lovable person. always trying his best at comforting you when you're sad or helping you study, and that only made you love him more unfortunately. I guess you can say you were kind of mad at yourself when you would wish you and him were more than friends, not wanting things to be awkward if he doesn't feel the same and somehow having years of friendship down the drain. so you keep to yourself. and you were doing a great job of doing that until the feeling of this love for your best friend would just get so strong it would make you sad. you were sad because you wish you could go out to actual dates and going to school dances without going "ohh you should date him" or "you should date her" as a joke. you wanna just spend all your time just with him not thinking about anyone or anything else but each other and just enjoying being in each other's presence. but that would be a little weird if friends did it. it would sting a little when you would hang up the phone and and didn't say I love you. you got tired of feeling this way, feeling like you're just stuck on one big stupid question when you know the answer, so why don't you just talke to him about it, is what you thought about at night for a few days trying to plan how you're gonna bring it up to him. but of course, non of the plans worked without being awkward, but you did decide that you wanted to hang out at some random park and talk(and maybe make fun of some little kids),and would just let fate take over.

its the day, the day you're gonna tell him how you feel. you couldn't tell if you were nervous or excited or both, you just knew you wanted it to be over even though nothing has started yet. so here you both sit on the set of swings just talking and laughing like usual, you start to feel that strong and now annoying feeling again. "oh god, here we go", you thought as you start feeling it, the feeling of love you now knew. you both sit in a comfortable silence as you listen to sounds of the wind blowing the leaves on the trees, the slight squeaking of the swings slowly moving back and forth."its nice today huh?"he says taking you out of your thought, thanking what ever it was that made him speak first."yeah. finally" you say causing him to slightly laugh."you know" you start to say."you really are the best thing to happen to me" you say turning you head to face him. causing him to smile and look away. you can tell he's blushing but you don't say anything."you are too" he says quietly, looking down at his hands then looks at you. another moment of silence passes, just do it, you think to yourself, say it now,"I think". you pause after that, now its your turn to look down at your hands. he waits patiently, not rushing you."I think I love you" you say, but still looking at your hands, not yet wanting to see what his reaction was, tears slowly and painfully starting to swell in your eyes but not letting them fall."and I dont wanna love you as a best friend, I wanna love you as a boyfriend." you say a little quieter, slowly turning your head to face him, hes looking forward and smiling. the smile confused you, you didn't know if it was a "I've been waiting to say that my whole life" or a  "are you stupid". "i think", he says once again pulling you out of your thoughts, still looking forward but pulling his lips into a thin line and ever so slightly squinting his eyes, looking like he's thinking. "I think I love you too" he then says slightly shocking you as he turns to look at you, " I have for a long time" he says softly. out of nowhere a rush of that feeling goes flying through your whole body, sending tingles everywhere, it was such a happy and confusing feeling but it felt great, you then start laughing. you start laughing more and more, and the tears of fear from beforethen turn to tears of laughter. alex starts to look confused at first, but your laugh being so contagious he starts laughing as well. about 30 seconds go by and you start settling down, tears going away, it is then another comfortable silence."so what was that about" he says, you assume hes asking about the hysterical laughter that just happened,"just. happy I guess" you say smiling" well I am too. I guess" he says mocking the way you said i guess. "so." you say"so." he says " what does this make us now?"you say looking at him" well what do you wanna be now?"he says "I wanna be more than best friends" you say "then that we'll be" he says with care, holding out his hand. you take it, and hold it in yours, happy that this confusion and sadness is replaced with certainty and happiness, along with other great feelings. this day will forever be remembered by the both of you, all because the you both exchanged 5 words. I think i love you.