#no matter what terrible shit happens miles can come home to them

[elantedronai]

That’s it, being orphaned or having abusive parents is out in fiction

Having loving, living parents who are constantly fondly exasperated by their child and whom their child wants to make proud in a healthy way is in

[pandorasprongs]

CHAPTER FOUR | come home to my heart.

'it's nice to have a friend' fic masterlist + playlist | previous chapter

PAIRING: jamie tartt x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.1k

SUMMARY: jamie tries to get reader to forgive him.

WARNINGS: language

A/N: hello! sorry for such a long wait, i've been on vacation. i also haven't been able to proofread huhu but hopefully the interlude prepped ya'll for this moment because a good chunk of this one is from jamie's pov! don't have much to say because i don't want to spoil much hehe but enjoy jamie's comeback!

Losing Jamie for a second time felt the exact same: like absolute shit. Except this time, you were an adult and couldn't sulk in your room all day. So for the next few weeks, — aside from said crying sessions — you've been dragging yourself to all of your lectures and powering through office hours as if nothing happened.

You already told Liv about it the morning after, and after seeing your bloated face and the fact that you had a massive hangover, she decided to withhold her 'I told you so' speech, much to your relief. 

It was unraveling the exact same way as last time and the cherry on top was the fact that Jamie wasn't reaching out in any way, shape, or fucking form. No texts, calls, or anything. 

Every now and then, you'd think about reaching out yourself. It was you who yelled at him that night and told him to leave, but you would shake your head every time. No, if Jamie really wanted to preserve your relationship, he would have to be the one to reach out. You got to say your piece and that's it.

And maybe you were being a little petty, taking down all your photos with him from the shelf and stuffing them in a box with all the tokens from Jamie that you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away, but at least it stopped you from nearly breaking down every time you passed your hallway.

Jamie wasn't taking it so well either, despite what you assumed.

After that night, he had this sinking feeling in him. He knew he fucked up, — ghosting you and treating you like a complete stranger at the pub in front of his teammates, — but it hurt even more hearing you shout and tell him how badly it fucked you up.

To this day, he doesn't know why he did it, really. Maybe it was the fact that he felt guilty for never talking to you after you left. Or maybe you were right; he cared too much about what his teammates thought that he ended up hurting you in the process. But no matter the reason, he ruined one of his most important relationships that night.

So what was he going to do? What he always did. Ignore it. Focus on the season, despite the fact that Richmond has been on a losing streak since the West Ham game. While Jamie might be off his game because of you, he wasn't going to acknowledge that. Just bury it and hope it disappears.

It wasn't until after the fifth match in the losing streak that he got a message from an unknown number he was forced to confront it. 

Hi Jamie. I'm Liv. I'm not sure if (Y/N)'s mentioned me, but I'm one of her friends and I got your number from her phone. I was hoping to talk to you soon when you're free.

So now, he was sitting in a white office like he was waiting for some test results. It didn't help that the person sitting in front of him was in a lab coat, either.

"Sorry, I know it's weird we had to do this in an office." Liv started and Jamie straightened up in the chair. "I thought you'd want somewhere private to talk."

"Right."

"Yeah, so you're probably wondering why I wanted to talk to you. Uhm, (Y/N)'s been a little off recently. She told me about what happened, which I honestly saw from a mile away, but that's not the point." Liv sighs before continuing. "The last time this happened, back in uni, she practically quarantined herself in her room till her parents came and picked her up. She barely ate, and barely talked to anyone. It was terrible. And I can tell that she's on the way to that again."

Jamie's eyes widened, filled with guilt once again, but he said nothing.

Something about his reaction just triggered something in Liv. "Right, so I'm sorry if this sounds rude, but what the fuck are you doing, man?" The footballer moved back in his chair, but Liv wasn't dismayed. "Why haven't you called her? Or even texted or something."

"I," Jamie's completely at a loss for words. "I thought that she didn't want to talk."

"What gave you that idea?"

"She told me to leave that night so harshly, so I thought..." Jamie trails off, realizing how terrible that reasoning is after saying it out loud.

Liv is thinking the exact same thing, causing her to roll her eyes. "Come on, Jamie! You can't actually think she wants nothing to do with you now. She won't ever say it, but do you know how many times I've caught her checking your contact to see if you've sent anything? She misses you and seeing how shit you've been playing these past few matches, I think it's safe to assume that you miss her too."

Despite this woman being a complete stranger to Jamie, he's suddenly compelled to admit, "Just because she misses me doesn't mean that she wants me back in her life. And I don't think I should be, to be honest." She's better off without me. 

Liv's expression finally softens and she looks down at her desk before saying, "She at least deserves an apology."

—

It had been a few days since then, which Jamie had been using to think it over. He knew Liv was right; he needed to apologize. He just didn't know how. And of course, he had to talk to the most emotional man he knew.

"Jamie! What brings you here?" Ted who, despite the team losing yet another game, greeted quite cheerfully. It almost made the football player turn right back around because he wasn't sure if he was in the mood for his coach's relentless optimism.

But he knew there wasn't anyone else he could go to, seeing as you were obviously unavailable, Keeley was way swamped with her new company, and telling his mum would be indirectly telling your parents too. He shuts the door behind him and moves to Ted's side of the office. "Right, um, I was hoping to talk to you about something."

His coach seems to pick up on Jamie's uneasy demeanor and leans forward with a sympathetic look on his face. "What's up, buttercup? Should I gather the diamond dogs for this?"

Jamie, recalling the name that the coaches and Higgins called themselves, was quick to reject the idea. "No, no, I'd rather not have them find out about this. Uhm, look, I know I haven't been doing my best recently,—"

"Oh, we'll get a win soon bud, don't worry." Ted is quick to reassure the player and while Jamie appreciates it, he shakes his head.

"No, I know, but that's not it." Jamie takes a deep breath before continuing. "It's just, I've been a bit distracted recently."

"Is this about a girl perhaps?"

"No," though Jamie thinks about it for a second. “Yes, but no?" Seeing the slight look of confusion on his coach's face, he explains, "A while back, I reconnected with an old friend. She was my best friend actually, back in Manchester. We didn't exactly end on the best of terms and it was my fault. But when we met again, she told me that I didn't need to apologize."

Jamie continued to recount the past few months to his coach, from his blind date to the Bones & Honey incident, along with what he did to you in the pub all those years ago. 

"So now, I don't know what to do. Her best friend said I should apologize, but I don't really know how. I'm not really the best with these types of things." Both of them still remembered how long it took for Jamie to get the team to forgive him when he first came back.

Ted takes a second before responding, trying to figure out the best thing to say in this situation. "You know Jamie, I've always thought the simplest ways are sometimes the best ones. Overthinking things tends to complicate them more. You want to apologize right? How'd you used to do it when you were kids and you threw your little tantrums at each other?"

"Coach, I don't think bringing her chocolate is gonna work this time around." Jamie gets flashbacks to your first-ever argument as kids. Jamie accidentally ate the last slice of chocolate cake that you had unofficially saved and you stormed out and locked yourself in your room for an hour. 

All it took was Jamie sliding a bar of chocolate through the bottom of the door, explaining that he got hungry, and promising to save her a slice of cake the next time they had a party. You ended up sharing the bar with Jamie.

"Probably not. But in all the times you fought, what were the things that got her to forgive you? What did you say that made her understand your side and know that you actually were sorry for what you did? And how did you prove to her that you weren't going to do that to her again?" Maybe if Jamie thought about this advice later tonight, it'll make more sense, but right now, only one question was occupying his mind.

"D'you think she'll forgive me?" He thinks out loud.

"I honestly don't know Jamie, I don't even know who she is. But if you show her how much you care like how you're showing me right now, I'm sure things will be fine." Ted, now standing, offers a comforting pat on the back.

Without looking up, Jamie whispers, "I never meant to do this to her. To hurt her like that."

"We rarely ever mean to hurt the people we love." Ted offers.

Love. Yeah, Jamie thought, he did love you, even after all these years. Especially after all these years. What, with all the 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' bullshit.

"All we can do after is try to atone for our mistakes and hope they forgive us. And even if they don't, at least you leave knowing you tried." Jamie nods his head and thanks his coach for the advice.

As he got into his car to leave the clubhouse, he pulled out his phone. Hi, are you free tonight? I was hoping we could talk. 

He anxiously waited for your reply and started listing all the places he had to pass by before heading to your place if you even answered. But before Jamie even left the car park, you already replied, Sure.

—

Maybe you had been hoping for Jamie's message more than you thought. You were in the middle of the lecture when you got his message, so while your class passed the handouts around, you took the chance to grab your phone and reply.

So now, you were anxiously waiting in your flat, still unsure of how you were meant to feel about all this. You knew there was still anger there, but you weren't sure if exploding on him relieved that feeling or made it worse. A part of you also felt guilty for it too, for not even giving him a chance to apologize in the first place. Maybe instead of awkwardly letting him inside later, you would've been having yet another movie night together.

That's what he was going to do now right? Apologize? You didn't really press on for my details when he messaged you earlier. You just hoped that seeing him again will trigger the right response to whatever he had planned.

You heard the doorbell ring and suddenly, it felt like your heartbeat quickened. You take careful steps towards the door and after mentally preparing yourself for whatever this was going to be, turn the doorknob.

"Hi," Jamie greeted, in the most awkward way possible for a guy as confident as he could. You notice him holding a box of LEGO flowers under his left arm and a pack of chocolate nuggets in his right hand.

In an attempt to lighten the mood, you jokingly ask, "Is your apology just going to be flowers and chocolate?" though it may have come across as harsher than you intended.

"No, but uh, in case you changed your mind about talking to me when you saw me, I thought this would at least get me through the door," Jamie explained and you slowly nodded your head.

"Well, you were right." You take the things from his hand and let him inside. 

You had already cleaned up the place before he came over and hidden all the messy catalogs and test papers in your room for the time being. Its current condition could honestly pass as one of those display sets in department stores.

You placed the items on your dining table before turning back to Jamie who was awkwardly standing in the middle of the living room.

You didn't want to delay this any further. "So, why'd you want to talk?"

"Right," Jamie started, still unable to look you in the eye. "I wanted to say sorry for not messaging you these past few weeks. I've just been busy and Richmond's been on a losing streak too,—"

"Is that really all you wanted to say?" Your tone was soft, but even you knew you were being blunt. You just couldn't handle the sinking feeling of anxiety in your chest anymore and while you might be rushing him, you just wanted to get this over with.

"No, it's not." Jamie closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He moves towards you and starts looking at you intently. "I'm sorry. For everything. You deserved an apology and an explanation a long time ago and I can't go back in time, so I want to do it now."

He pauses for a moment, and when you realize he's waiting for you to say something, you respond, "Go ahead, Jamie."

He nods his head and almost looks like he's psyching himself up before a match. He takes another deep breath before continuing.

"I wanted to start from when I started to get distant. I never told you, but after I started at Man City, dad came back into the picture."

"He did?" Your voice was barely a whisper, and you're unsure if he even heard it because he keeps talking.

"You know how he is, right?" Of course, you did. 

Growing up, you knew the exact times his dad would be coming over. There’d be some beat up car in their driveway and if you looked out your window, Jamie’s window blinds would be down. During the early years, you’d ask your mom to call their house, but after the first time and about a ten-minute call with Georgie, she started telling you they were busy. It was only after that outlying car in their driveway disappeared that Jamie would come knocking at your door, asking to play. He'd have this air of discomfort the first few days, but you were so happy being able to see him again that you’d end up ignoring it.

"Anyway, he was on my arse that whole time. He always had something to say after every match about how I fucked up or, how shit I'd been. Even if I was just sitting on the bench, he still had something to say. It was exhausting," You could tell that Jamie was starting to get angry at the reminder of his father, and without thinking, you reach out to hold his hand. Jamie seems to relax at your touch and when he seems to have composed himself, you let go.

"He would go on about the same things. Don't be soft, it's the fucking Premier League and shit like that. I just, I wanted it to stop. And I thought that toughening up would stop him from him getting under my skin. That meant removing everything that did make me soft, vulnerable. One of those things was you, but I realized now that it was in a good way. As in, I only ever felt comfortable and safe when I was with you." Your eyes widened at his confession and you felt tears threatening to fall.

"But fuck, Dad was really in my head back then. I thought that you were making me weak. And I hated the thought of him calling me that. So I stopped picking up your calls and messages. I just blocked you out.

"But when I started to realize I was becoming a prick, I thought you'd never want to talk to me again. That you'd hate me and it wasn't worth trying to get you to forgive me. Plus, Mum always had great stories about you, so I thought you were better off without me. I guess that's why I was such a prick back in the pub, pretending I didn’t know you. Might as well lean into it if I already lost you." At this point, you were resisting the urge to envelop Jamie in a hug and never let go, but you knew he wanted to finish his piece.

"And I know that it doesn't change the fact that it was a shitty way to treat someone I loved, but it's the best explanation I can give you. I really am sorry." Jamie held your eyes, emphasizing how genuine he was being. Someone I loved, did he really just say that? But he starts again before you can even consider what that meant.

"And, I really am trying to be better. I want to be worthy of staying in your life, if you'll let me. This time, I promise I'll never leave you like that ever again."

You were processing his words and couldn't answer immediately, so Jamie added, "And if you decide that you don't want anything to do with me, then you'll never have to see me again. But I promise to keep trying to be better even then."

You continued to stay silent and Jamie took that as your answer. "Right, so that's all I had to say, so I'll be out of—"

You wrap your arms around him, stopping him mid-sentence. The footballer is slow to reciprocate it, but when he does, you're transported back in time. It feels like you're eight again, and Jamie's football team just won the finals. It feels like you're fifteen again, and you've made up during a midnight run to the grocery after a stupid argument. It feels like you're seventeen again, saying goodbye to the only boy you've ever loved.

"I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you yet, Jamie. To go back to how it was before." You finally answer, and if you're being honest, you don't think you ever could go back. "But I want to be able to," you whisper and you feel him relax even more in your arms. "Just, don't fuck it up and leave again. Because I'd really love to have you in my life again."

"I promise I won't." And this time, you believe him.

A/N: and there you go! the angst is over! (or is it? muahaha) some cameos from liv and ted to help snap jamie out of it :) i had written jamie's apology monologue the same time i wrote reader's angry monologue from chapter three with some slight revisions when i put them in their respective chapters, so hopefully it matches up well stay tuned for the next chapter!!

TAGLIST: @moonflowersandsparkles @faith-alons26 @rexorangecouny @aiyaiy @thegirlthatwantedtowrite @giggling-sewer-ginger @katdahlali @higherthanheroes @guccilongboard @alipap3 @rockchickrebel @ellietartt @shineforever19 @skewedcherries @jamietarttdodo @meg-ro @deepdarkvelvet @taytaylala12 @scaramou @rae4725 @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo (couldn't tag you for some reason?)

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

(CW: mentions of WW2 and atomic bomb) Okay that ask about how TWST boys would react to Yuu's terrible world is something I think about too often, especially bc of the US with all the terrible history-making things happening all at once. Like imagine Yuu wearing a mask when they first arrive and eventually Adeuce ask why they wear one all the time? Then Yuu explains about the global pandemic that's killed millions of ppl around the world and how it's almost like the modern day Black Death with how long the pandemic is lasting and their like "WTF IS THE BLACK DEATH" so Yuu explains that too along with plague doctors and medieval understanding of illnesses. But they say all this with a chill "oh this is kinda par for the course for human beings" tone. Meanwhile everyone is horrified.

Some students including Lilia remark that it kinda sounds cool to live through a huge historical moment in time (Lilia would know) and Yuu's just like, "have you ever wanted to live through the Spanish Flu of 1918, the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960's, and the Great Economic Depression of the 1930's, ALL at the same time? I didn't, yet here it am" and everyone's like 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ they might not know what happened during those times, but they can take a guess. That's when Lilia realizes how truly f*cked up Yuu's world is when a young teen like them is left so jaded, like not even he in the centuries he's lived through has he ever felt this hopeless about the state of Twisted Wonderland that he has to wonder what in hell is happening in Yuu's home world?

Then they talk about WW2 and the monstrosities that took place. The boys might make fun of Yuu for living in a world without magic, but just replies "oh, well we don't really need magic to fight. We have technology. We have weapons that can instantly vaporize people and entire cities in an instant. And if they don't die from being in the vicinity the bomb, the ppl in the miles surrounding that will die slowly from radiation." "YUU, WTF THAT SOUNDS AWFUL!" "I know. I've seen the pictures."

also when they see how nonchalant Yuu is about all this and wonder how Yuu can be so...calm, so matter-of-fact about it, Yuu's just like "oh no, all young folks are this. We know there's nothing can do to change the trajectory of Earth's demise, so we just kinda accept and meme about it. Hey check out this meme about WW3 :D" and they are just like "WTF—and you WANT to go back to this world!?" And that's not even talking about pollution, late stage capitalism, or the fight for human rights around the world.

Bonus: (can you tell I think about this a lot?) I like to think that Yuu explains to Azul the amount of damage mega corporations do to nature and how they pretty much use the ocean as a dumping ground for all their waste and left over products to the point where ocean life is dying by the masses, he almost starts to consider if his capitalistic tendencies will lead him down that path.

I always imagined Yuu coming from a more apocalyptic version of this world where it's all gone to shit.

Imagine telling them about the elephants foot and the horrors of radiation.

This may be because I just got done playing The Chernobyl Liquidators and fall out New Vegas but still..

I feel like Azul would be mortified if you showed him how the ocean looks now. So many Coral reefs gone

[webethepeachesfromrockford]

Gretson Masterlist (9/2)

Happiness Is...

All I Wanted

Carson’s always been other. It starts before she knows what that means and continues on throughout her life. Her only saving grace is baseball, though Carson doesn’t really know the extent of that truth until she’s looking to find tryouts when she stumbles upon Greta Gill standing there, searching for something too.

Or, a closer look at Carson’s life before and after meeting Greta.

Take A Look At This Girl

Though Carson is chomping at the bit to be with Greta, she makes the decision to try and be just friends with the woman who sets her entire world on fire. It’s doomed from the start but Carson is determined to be normal. Her wet dream remains eyeopening and Carson still has no idea what to do with it. As the days pass and her resolve crumbles, Carson must come to terms with the fact that Greta isn’t going anywhere.

Or, the one where Carson is thirsty for Greta until she finally gets a sip of that cool drink.

Can I Get It?

After deciding that getting alone time is a must, Carson constructs a plan to outsmart both Beverly and the rest of the team. It takes a couple of tries but she gets her way - while they’re playing the Comets, Greta is her roommate where a door and a lock exist. Between anxiety and unanswered questions, Carson lets the first night pass without much other than nun approved snacks shared. Read to find out what happens when Carson finally gives herself permission to take all the things she desperately wants without shame.

Or, Carson finally gets a piece of Greta’s pie.

Stand Alone Fics

All In Good Time

Carson decides to chase after Greta a little too late, so she misses the redhead's train by seconds. Without anything else to do, Carson follows Jess and Lupe to the city in hopes of eventually bumping into Greta while she's there. In the months it takes to finally find Greta again, Carson comes into her own. She's no longer a little baby gay by the time Lupe comes running home with happy news to share. Read to find out what happens when Carson and Greta meet again and try to take on the world together.

Or, a little post-season one thing. You can probably call it wishful thinking.

Prompts/Requests

Gave Me Something to Lose

When Greta is asked out on another date by some guy that doesn’t matter, Carson quietly seethes. It’s one thing to sit at a table every day with Greta without reaching out to touch her. It’s a totally different thing to play dumb as Greta charms the man chomping at the bit to be with her. It’s torture and extremely terrible but enlightening all the same. Read to see what happens when Carson finally gets Greta alone again.

Or, Carson is jealous and does some crazy shit because of it.

Jess's POV

‘A little ditty about Greta and Carson through Jess’s eyes since she clocked them earlier than anyone. Like little stolen moments that Jess caught because she was some how always at the wrong place and time and Greta & Carson weren’t aware they were being that messy.’

And I'm So Proud to Call You Mine

Greta is constantly taken aback by her feelings for Carson. One particular day in the dugout, they overwhelm her and she makes a statement she usually wouldn't allow herself to say in such a public place. It's a good thing, though - she hits a homerun and the Peaches win. Read to find out what Greta does to handle the rapidly expanding want for Carson that consumes her more and more with each passing day.

Or, a tumblr prompt that grew arms and legs and became this!

Dear Carson

They're miles away from Rockford, living together in New York when Greta leaves Carson a letter. After trying her best not to just rip it open, Carson greedily absorbs every word, quickly realizing that Greta wrote to her during the season, practically narrating her thoughts as they navigate their whirlwind relationship. Carson has no idea what any of them mean but she's getting insight into Greta that never seemed possible. Read to find out how Greta felt throughout their time together and what that means for their future.

Or, a collection of letters from Greta to Carson.

[scarlettriot]

Mina Ashido Headcanons!

@jewel116 requested some headcanons of our Alien Queen and I am here to deliver!

Some of these also could be considered BakuSquad HCs, hope that's alright.

I also went ahead and included some Adult Mina and 18+ Mina Headcanons too. Both are below the cut and clearly stated. Warnings are posted at each header mark.

If anyone has any other requests, lemme know!

Basic Mina Headcanons

Warnings: It's as fluffy as her dang hair! (Swearing)

. Most definitely has ADHD! In class, she is constantly tapping her foot on bouncing her leg as a means of trying her best to keep focused.

. Has a collection of shirts that she has designated for sleep and loungewear because she's burned acid holes in them by accident. Sometimes she'll wear them to concerts and shows if the design is cool enough.

. Loves piggyback rides! Frequently will run and jump on the backs of the guys in the BakuSquad. Even Katsuki himself puts up with it after a while.

. While Katsuki is the 'mom' of the squad, Mina is the one everyone goes to when they need comfort. Denki will curl up in her lap after a long day, Eijiro frequently goes to her when his insecurities creep back in, Hanta shows up late at night and they talk in her room about nothing just because he doesn't want to be alone, and Katsuki, well, he shows up to her room, slams the door and complains for a solid half-hour after reading a particularly heartbreaking scene in a manga while she listens to every word and validates his feelings.

. Mina worries far more than people believe she does. Her bubbly, loud, personality usually masks it but she knows when people are lying to her about what's going on in their heads.

. Sitting properly in a chair physically bothers her. She'd much rather be hanging upside down off it.

. She lowkey likes that the boys get protective over her.

. Mina is the type of person who gets A LOT of random thoughts that pop up in her head and one of the few people who actually will engage with the sheer randomness of the ideas is Shoto. Not only does he engage, he comes up with his own! The two can talk for hours.

. Loves hosting 'spa parties' in the common area of the dorms, everyone is welcome to join.

. When road trips happen, she's making the playlists (technically, she and Kyoka switch off).

. Tries teaching Tenya, Izuku, and Shoto how to flirt. After a very embarrassing first hour, Shoto didn't learn a single thing, Izuku was only good at it when paired with Shoto and Tenya... Tenya had her SHOOK! Man has game and she made sure everyone knew!

. Has weekly meetings with Yuga where they drink tea and spill the tea.

. She is so damn ticklish. Hanta was teasing her one day, she warned him to stop, he received an elbow to the face for not listening.

. Tried to grow her hair out once but it didn't grow down... it grew OUT. Mina thought she rocked it, and she totally did but ended up having it cut back down so poor Tsyu could see in class.

. Wakes up early three days a week to practice her hand-to-hand combat with Eijiro. Mina wants to improve her technique and Eijiro needed to work on his mobility, it benefits them both.

. Just Dance is her favorite game, she dominates.

. Easily forms new interests.

. Won't admit it but she gets jealous super easily.

. Will be the first to attempt to throw hands for a friend! I HC she was picked on as a child for looking so different but it never really phased her too badly, she likes looking different but understands that not everyone thinks like she does. So, if someone were to say something about Mezo's facemask, she's stepping in to defend the guy without hesitation.

. Knows every TikTok dance EVER. If a new one comes out, she's mastered it by end of the day and her account is always up to date.

. (Popular idea but important to reinforce) Mina and Eijiro co-founded a club, Horn Buddies, specifically to make Eri feel more welcome. They take her on trips and group outings. The only horned person who's not allowed to join is Pony because she was rude as heck to Mezo.

. Mina gets extra competitive over board games.

. She can ice skate and roller skate like a champ.

. Mina is resilient, dedicated, and passionate. She has goals and the girl will achieve them.

Pro Hero - Adult Mina Headcanons

Warnings - Mentions of alcohol use and swearing

. Gets several tattoos and piercings.

. Starts a roller derby club with most of the girls from 1A.

. Loves going out to the hottest dance clubs just as much as she enjoys staying in and munching on take-out food with friends.

. The Horn Buddies club she formed with Eijiro has now expanded into regular society and both young heroes couldn't be more proud. Together they've formed a foundation that strives to help those with non-flashy, unconventional, or misunderstood quirks feel welcomed and loved.

. Does her best to shop small whenever she can. Mina wants to help her community in as many different ways as possible.

. Becomes a fashion icon for many small, just starting out, alternative clothing lines. They love her look and the standard she sets.

. Goes to fashion and runway shows with Momo on the regular. While Momo prefers buying right off the rack, Mina goes to thrift stores and buys items that are coming back into style.

. Does her best to stay in touch with her classmates. She really cherished the friendships she made and goes the extra mile to make sure everyone stays connected.

. Has told off Shoto's father. Sent the man an anonymous bag of flaming dog shit as well for making his son so damn stressed. Sorry, not sorry.

. As long as she isn't in the middle of a fight, Mina will always stop to take a photo with a fan or sign an autograph. In or out of costume, she doesn't care.

. In high school, Mina's room was always decked out for the holidays. She goes decoration crazy and it is always done well. But, now that she's an adult with that pro hero money and her own place, she's the best house on the block decorated for each and every holiday! Inside and out! Also throws holiday-themed parties.

. Got absolutely trashed with the BakuSquad one night and taught them all how to twerk. By the end of the lesson, she deemed Katsuki was the best of her students.

. Loves to drink. Is a lightweight. Katsuki and Eijiro have carried her home more times than they can count.

NSFW 18+ Mina HC Below - Minors DNI

Warnings: Drinking, rough sex, mentions of orgies, handcuffs, impact play, and praise kinks. Subtle sexual relations with BakuSquad, Jiro, Todoroki, and Ochaco.

. The Queen of stripteases and lap dances.

. If any of her friends are at a party or some event and they need a fake date, Mina is their go-to person. She's handsy. She's flirty. And has no problem with platonic make-outs.

. Always encourages kissing-themed games at parties. Seven Minutes in Heaven, Spin the Bottle, those sorts of games. Mina also loves to play cupid and has rigged a game or two to get people together.

. Has made out with every member of the BakuSquad at least once as well as Kyoka, Shoto, and Ochaco simply because she was curious.

. Has attempted to start an orgy with the BakuSquad before when intoxicated. Still mentions it in passing just in case they change their minds.

. Has gone further with Katsuki and Eijiro though. Maybe both at the same time once or twice or several times...

. Wonderfully filthy dirty talk. Can even make Katsuki blush.

. (A personal favorite of mine that was in a previous post) When they were first years, Eijiro asked innocently enough, to touch her horns. He was gentle but that didn't matter. Our poor girl was so damn flustered! Her face turned red bright, she felt hot, and she had to go take a very cold shower!

. Ei felt terrible about it. It took them both maturing for her to explain exactly why she reacted that way... and then asked him to do it again.

. Is likely to send NSFW texts and photos while people are indeed at work. She is a Pro Hero though so only certain people are allowed to have those photos. A scandal is the last thing she wants.

. Very good at communication and is not afraid to speak her mind about what she wants and needs out of a relationship and her sex life.

. Loud, very loud, very needy.

. Fuzzy handcuffs in every color she can think of and adores impact play.

. Let her know she's doing a good job, Mina responds well to praise.

. Big cuddler after sex. Wants to snuggle into you and more than likely take a nap.

[ragingbookdragon]

And I Will Still Be Here Stargazing

Batsis x Batfamily Story

Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: I shouldn't be allowed to make new stories when I've already got WIP's to do. Oh well, HERE'S ANOTHER STORY! -Thorne

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

She glanced through the telescope once more, scanning the expanse of the night sky before her. Giddiness ran through her at the thought of seeing the supposed comet coming back around. Apparently, it was one that hadn’t been seen in two hundred years. It’d taken almost two whole days to convince her dad to let her go out on her own in the field three miles out of town.

Of course, that convincing came with a massive surprise—not—of taking a tracker with her just in case—being the only non-vigilante in her family did make her vulnerable to trouble, but most of their enemies wanted nothing to do with her, so she figured she was alright.

Pulling away from the scope, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket, and she sighed as she answered it, putting it to her ear. “Dad, I already told you, I’m fine.”

You weren’t answering your brothers’ texts. They were worried.

“Oh, for the love of—dad, I’m twenty-one. I shouldn’t have to check in every five freakin’ minutes.”

We worry about you, (Y/N).

“I know,” she griped. “C’mon, one night where I can actually be treated like I have a functioning brain inside my skull. Let me have it.” She glanced up again, seeing something streak across the sky. “Oh, there it is!” (Y/N) grinned. “I gotta go dad! I love you!”

Wait, (Y/N)—

Hanging up, she stowed the phone in her pocket before looking into the glass. “Oh wow,” she breathed. “It’s so beautiful…and big.” (Y/N) hummed and pulled back slightly. “Really, really big. Almost like it’s…coming to earth.”

She took a step back when she realized that was exactly what was happening. The comet, or whatever it was, was barreling towards the field near her and she gasped, taking another step back. Her foot slipped in the mud, and she fell, but the thought of being obliterated made her scramble to her feet and run as fast as she could away from it and while she wasn’t sure she’d outrun the devastation, she was going to try.

That being said, whatever it was, hit the ground with a thundering explosion, sending dirt and gravel flying, along with her and she screamed as she was thrown to the ground. (Y/N) covered her head, crying in pain as debris scraped her arms and legs, but she stayed still until the world calmed around her.

When it did, she peeked through her arms and gaped at the destruction around her. Trees had been blown from their roots and in the middle of where her telescope had once been, was something smoking inside a hollowed dip in the ground, dirt and rocks thrown away.

(Y/N) shakily got to her feet and crept closer, terrified that she was going to find some horror movie come alive. Alien and Predator stuck in the back of her mind and part of her wanted to flee. The other part—and curse her Wayne curiosity—wanted to know what it was.

“Hello?” she whispered as she neared the rim of the crater, peering in. A groan sounded and she gasped, pulling away before she took another glance and she saw a woman. At least it looked like a woman.

Her body was unlike anything familiar to (Y/N), in the form of an average woman, but she had no skin. Instead, her body looked like the night sky, swirling pools of stars and dark matter, and her hair was long and white, shimmering like glitter. Her hips and wrists were plated with some type of metal, gold and inlaid with what looked like diamonds.

(Y/N) slid down the side of the crater against her better judgement, nearing the woman carefully. “Hello?” she called again. “Are you alright?” The woman groaned and rolled onto her back, eyes opening at her. She gasped at the white eyes, like stars.

“Help,” she weakly moaned.

Hurrying over, she knelt beside the woman. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay.” She reached out to touch the woman but stilled when she felt the warmth radiating off her body.

“Please…help me,” she begged. “They’re…coming.”

(Y/N) shook her head and took the woman’s hand; it made her skin tingle. “Who’s coming?”

“The Insentients,” the woman said. “They’re coming in a years’ time.”

“I…I don’t understand,” she replied. “What are Insentients?”

“Terrible creatures that destroy life.” The woman grasped her hand. “I am Astra, Queen of the Stars. And you must help me.” (Y/N) couldn’t believe a thing she was hearing, simply gaping at her. “I have battled the Insentients for billions of years, but I am at my end.” She squeezed tightly, reaching up to cup (Y/N)’s cheek, white eyes widening. “You must take my place as queen and protect the life of this galaxy.”

She couldn’t even form words, mouth opening and closing like a fish and all she could muster was, “I’m sorry? What?”

Astra coughed and something splattered on (Y/N)’s clothes before fading from sight. “Please, you must do this or life as you know it will cease in one year. Take my place.”

“But I’m—I’m not some alien queen! I’m a human!” She spluttered. “What do I even do?!”

The queen sighed tiredly. “Child, nothing will stop the Insentients unless you help. They will destroy all in their path.”

(Y/N) shook her head and happened to glance towards the sky. “The stars,” she breathed. “They’re so…dull.”

“My life is fading…so they are too.” Astra whispered. “They will die.”

“What?!” she shouted. “But the sun?! It’ll go out!”

“Yes.” The queen murmured.

Bewildered, she asked, “What can I do?”

Astra gazed at her. “Take my power. Be reborn as the Queen of the Stars.”

“How do I?” She questioned and Astra took (Y/N)’s hands, placing them on her chest.

“Grasp my heart.”

“Grasp your what?” she repeated.

“My heart.” The woman’s chest opened, and she stared in surprise as a small, but brilliant light came into view. “Bring it to your own.”

“I better not die,” (Y/N) deadpanned as she cupped the light carefully. Her fingers tingled like she was being shocked, and she swallowed thickly as she brought it up to her chest, just above her heart. “What now?” she asked, and Astra’s form began to fade, starting at her feet.

“Your body will absorb all that I am…all that I…have been.” She smiled. “Place it within your chest.”

“That’s not possible.” (Y/N) retorted, though she moved her hands against her chest. “My body can’t just absorb—holy shit it’s working,” she blurted, and she went still as her something jolted her spine, all the way up her spinal cord to her brain.

Her jaw went slack as he eyes widened, head tipping back to stare at the sky above her. Memories flashed across her vision, faster than she could keep track of and then her mind felt like it was imploding. She let out a strangled gasp and tipped backwards, fatigue overcoming her. The last thing she remembered was Astra’s eyes and her smile before she disappeared from sight and (Y/N) descended into darkness.

***

When she came to, all she could think about was the pounding headache in her skull and the lack of memory the night before. (Y/N) sat up and looked around. The sun was high in the sky and her telescope was sitting neatly where it had been. She blinked, feeling as though she’d forgotten something important. When she couldn’t remember, she shrugged and got to her feet, beginning to take the scope apart and put it away.

(Y/N) rolled the sleeping bag up and put it in the tote, carrying both back towards the side of the road. Her butler should’ve been around to pick her up but when she didn’t see him, she frowned. Huh…I thought Alfie was coming to pick me up? Blinking in confusion, she patted her pocket for her phone and pulled it out, though her eyes went wide when she saw the shattered screen and burnt phone.

“What the hell?” she questioned. “What happened to my phone?” It looked like it’d been blown up. Now she was really confused. What the hell happened last night? (Y/N) sighed heavily and shoved the phone in her pocket. “I guess I’m walking then.” She grunted and heaved the telescope and sleeping bag over her shoulders, starting back towards the city in the distance.

***

GCPD was the first important building she came upon and as tired as she was, she knew they’d let her use one of their phones to call home. (Y/N) lethargically wandered into the department, stopping near the counter.

“Excuse me, can I use your phone?”

The man at the counter looked up and suddenly shot to his feet. “(Y/N) Wayne!” he shouted, and she blinked.

“Uh…yeah, that’s me?”

He rubbed his eyes. “Holy shit, you’re here.” Gesturing to her, he added “Wait right there! Don’t move!”

“Wait, but I—” the man sprinted off and she sighed. “Great. Probably going to get everyone so we can do pictures.”

Next thing she knew, Commissioner Gordon was running into the entry way. “Miss Wayne!”

(Y/N) looked at him. “Yes sir. That’s me.” She pointed to the phone at the desk. “I was wondering if I could use the phone to call home? Mine’s…busted.”

He reached out, grasping her arms. “Are you hurt? We should get you checked out immediately.”

“I’m fine?” she answered confusedly. “What’s going on? Why is everyone panicking?”

Gordon gaped at her. “You don’t know what’s going on?” she shook her head. “(Y/N), you’ve been missing for an entire week.”

[jackrrabbit]

🤍 Haikyuu WIP excerpts

preview post for hq because recently i showed sara a list of my works in progress and she laughed at me and then made a dn joke like this is 2015 or something. we got:

🤍 communal property /// ushijima x f!reader x tendou 🤍 sunshower /// atsumu x f!reader x osamu 🤍 corporate ethics /// kuroo x f!reader

anyway these are all terrible first drafts and i'm not sorry. however i am very very into these pieces and if you're interested in seeing them finished, you should tell me fr fr

🤍 communal property /// Ushijima x f!Reader x Tendou

Summary: Tendou shares everything with Ushijima—his food, his dorm room, even the AVs he likes. Why not his girlfriend, too?

Tags/warnings: poly relationship in progress (only you and Tendou are dating at this point), mild suggestiveness ??, s*ze k*nk

Status: 10k words written (holy fuck lol) out of ~11k total? this bitch better get finished is2g

After the match, your voice is hoarse from screaming but you still manage to yell congratulations for your boyfriend when you meet him and Ushijima outside the locker room in the stadium. You’re pumped on the adrenaline of the game, so you don’t even protest like you usually would when Tendou picks you up in the middle of your hug and lifts you off the ground effortlessly. “How was I? Awesome, right? I told you we would beat them!”

“You did, you so did—“ Even though your throat hurts, you can’t help gushing about every rally, every soul-crushing block, every impossible spike. “—and then the guy on the left thought he was clear to shoot it but you just—“ You throw your arms in the air and mime hitting the ball down like a blocker. “Wha-bam!—and the look on his face! I thought he was going to punch you!”

Tendou laughs and lays a sloppy kiss on your cheek, just as thrilled as you are by the win. “You really liked it that much? I thought you weren’t into sports.”

“I loved it! You were so cool! I can’t believe I’m dating someone so cool!” You wrap your legs around his back and hug his face close to yours, reveling in the fact that this weirdo belongs to you wholly and entirely, that you get to have him to yourself (well, other than his roommate). “And I’m not into sports, I’m into you.”

Tendou smiles in a way that makes the sides of his eyes crinkle up and little red patches bloom over his cheeks, a look that says, I like you so much (Y/N), I like you I like you I like you, except he’s probably trying not to be mushy like that since Ushijima is standing off to the side.

You feel a little bad for ignoring him (no one likes being the third wheel, even if he never shows signs of caring) so when Tendou sets you down you turn to Ushijima. “And you! Holy shit, Tendou said you were good, but I didn’t know you were that good. The ball when you hit it was super loud—honestly, how are your hands okay? If I hit it that hard I’d probably break something.”

“My hands are fine…this is normal for me.”

But just because you’ve got them here in front of you and you’re still pumped from the exhilaration of the win, you can’t help grabbing Ushijima’s hand and flipping it palm-up to inspect. True to his word, there’s no redness, just the calluses he’s built up on his long fingers. “Wow.”

“You don’t need to worry about Wakatoshi,” Tendou tells you, grinning and then making a face. “He’s a monster, he can handle it.”

“No kidding. You’re both monsters.” You put the base of your palm up against Ushijima’s to gauge the size of his hand against yours, and without prompting Tendou grabs your other hand to press against his own. Tendou’s fingers are a bit longer, but Ushijima’s are…thicker, more solid. Your hands look like a little kid’s in comparison. “Can I be honest? Half the time I was thinking I actually feel bad for the other team. If I had to take on both of you at the same time, I’d probably cry.”

You’re (mostly) joking, but it’s still a complete shock when you see the side of Ushijima’s mouth curl up a tiny bit. You’ve known each other for months at this point, but you’ve never seen him smile until now. Half of you is wondering if this is some kind of optical illusion caused by the atmosphere and the dim light of the stadium cutting through the evening, but the other half of you enjoys it. You made Ushijima smile. You did that.

“Don’t sell yourself short, (Y/N).” Ushijima says, tipping his head to the side.

“Yeah!” Tendou chimes in, resting his chin on top of your head and folding his arms around your neck from his place behind you. “I’m sure you could take both of us. Right, Wakatoshi?”

So that’s probably a sign.

🤍 sunshower /// Atsumu x f!Reader x Osamu

Summary: [Kitsune AU] You find an old Ō-Inari shrine in the woods that may not be as abandoned as it looks.

Tags/warnings: Shinto religion, this preview is biased toward tsumu oops, yearning/soft vibes

Status: 3.9k words written out of 5–6k? total

Atsumu was the one who found you.

That’s how he likes to talk about it, that he found you, like you’d still be wandering around lost in the woods if it weren’t for him. Osamu thinks you would have found your way back home eventually but Atsumu likes it better this way, this framing that makes it seem like they saved you.

It’s hard for him to tell time linearly the way humans do but you mention once that you’ve known them for a year and that seems to fit. It’s spring now, almost barely tipping into summer, and it was spring when Atsumu found you. He remembers because of the way it was raining: light and tender, a summer rain early in the season, each little drop tapping off a leaf and then rolling into the forest bed to be eaten up by the grass and the soil.

Atsumu likes the rain, likes the sweet earthy smell it makes and the way the plants look so lush and green and alive, like they’d bleed if he sunk his teeth into them. He was out in the woods because of the rain ('Samu was in the shrine, as usual, attempting to set buckets under the millions of holes in the roof so the rainwater wouldn’t pool and rot through the wood underneath). But Atsumu was half asleep in a tree when he heard you crashing through the undergrowth, tripping over ferns and snapping every twig in your path (thought ya might be a bear, he tells you later, that’s how loud ya were) but he wouldn’t really have woken up if he hadn’t heard you singing.

(The odd thing is, you weren’t actually singing. You remember that day as vividly as they do: the warm, humid air making your skin feel sticky under your yellow raincoat; the tiny raindrops filtering through the canopy and kissing your cheeks; the ink feathering out on the damp xerox of the old map you found in your great-aunt’s attic so you could barely make out the “X” that was supposed to mark the location of the lost Inari shrine… You were cursing how stupid you’d been to go on a wild goose chase into the mountains with no cell service and no marked trail to look for a shrine that no one had seen in decades. You definitely weren’t singing.)

But Atsumu remembers it differently. No matter how many times you explain that you were just talking to yourself, when he replays the sound of your voice back then (reaching and lilting and falling, the way the birds talk to each other in the early morning, except the music of it was poured into syllables and words), it sounds like you’re singing. He wasn’t sure at first, hadn’t heard a voice that wasn’t Osamu’s in so many years that he gets tired counting them, but then he saw you push into view from between two bushes and he thought, a human!

A girl, too—it was hard to say at first because you were wearing that weird, slick jacket of yours, so bright yellow it was like an oversized flower blooming out of the grass, but then you tilted your head up to feel the rain on your face and the hood fell down and he knew. Not just a human, a girl! Atsumu wanted to yell for Osamu, make him come and confirm that there was a person wandering around not a mile from the shrine. A real person! Singing and smiling and wiping the rain off her cheeks (does that mean you like the rain, just like he does? did you come out to feel it too?) But he also wanted to surprise Osamu so he hid his tails and his ears and came down from the tree and asked if you had lost your way in the forest, since you were so far from any path…

When you think back on this yourself you’re amazed that you just went with him: a strange boy (man?) wearing a fox mask and traditional Shinto priest robes, which were somehow pristine white and red despite him having appeared from nowhere in the middle of a dense forest, who told you he had no idea what direction the village was but he could take you to the Inari shrine you’d been searching for…well. Maybe you were too surprised to be wary, or maybe you were just exhausted and lost. But you like to think you had a sense of it even then, the irrational belief that the boy in the woods was not just a boy in the woods.

Atsumu thinks you knew. Humans always understand, even when they try not to… He remembers, he took your hand that day in the forest and you saw that the claws on his fingers were too long to be human, and you said nothing because on some level you already felt it. Your skin was cool then, smooth and damp from the rain; he wanted to stop, run his hands up your arms, touch the places on your face where your mouth had been turned up at the corners and press his fingers into your cheeks.

🤍 corporate ethics /// Kuroo x f!Reader

Summary: [Office AU] The new junior marketing associate just happens to be Kuroo’s favorite camgirl, and he’s having trouble keeping his hands to himself.

Tags/Warnings: boss/employee, businessman!Kuroo as a reformed player, camgirl reader, this excerpt has a lil bit of 18+ content 👀

Status: 1.2k words written out of 4k? words total

Kuroo doesn’t watch porn.

It’s not, like, a moral principle or something. He has nothing against pornography. As far as he knows, it’s perfectly normal for single men. He just doesn’t like it…unless it’s you.

When he was in school it was easy. Being a teenager meant being so flooded with hormones that a warm breeze could get him up, and the adrenaline rush of winning a game was better than any big-titted porn actress faking moans into a shit-quality boom mic. Sure, he watched porn back then (what teenage boy didn’t?), but it was more out of curiosity than necessity. It was all kind of a mystery at that point, the way it can only be when you’re a clueless virgin and you and all your friends are too busy practicing for the next game to get girls.

Somehow Bokuto was the first one in their friend group to lose his virginity, and the memory of the dumbass self-consciously describing the experience has been lodged in Kuroo’s brain for the 10+ years since. “It was…I don’t know. She smelled good. You know how girls always smell good?” Bokuto’s hands twitched and his face was pink. “It’s just really…soft.”

Soft was right, Kuroo would reflect when he got laid for the first time a few months later. Soft, warm, wet. Sex was awkward at first, but before he knew it it was more natural than breathing.

It didn’t change much after high school, either. He didn’t get into volleyball for the groupies, but they didn’t hurt. There were girls when he played for his college team, more girls when he joined a business frat, so many girls he couldn’t keep track…they blurred together after a while. It didn’t take effort. You don’t need game when you’re 6’2 and you’re in the gym 40 hours a week, and you definitely don’t need porn.

So he never got into it. Now that he’s promoting volleyball instead of playing, things are more complicated. Kuroo’s never been the type who expects things to fall in his lap, but there are so many rules when it comes to dating in the real world. Good morning texts, anniversaries, flowers, parents. It’s exhausting. One time—seriously, just one time—Kuroo misses his girlfriend’s birthday to go watch a Jackals game, and the next time he sees her she throws her drink on him in public and keys his car. After that, Kuroo decides that until he’s ready to settle down there will be no more girlfriends. Which means no more reliable sex. Which means resorting to porn.

Which means you.

You, batting your eyelashes at the camera and biting the side of your lip. You, purring and mewing like a kitten. You, lying back on your pretty pink bedsheets in your pretty pink lingerie, sliding your hands between your legs. It takes Kuroo a full month to decide to pay for access to your website (Kenma’s unsolicited recommendation) but it takes less than five minutes for him to upgrade access to premium. You look like a wet dream—no, you look like the centerfold of every dirty magazine Kuroo managed to get his hands on when he was younger. Pristine and alluring and so deliciously out of reach.

And you make it so simple. No delicate emotional games with rules Kuroo never bothered to learn. No pretending to care how your day was. You untie the little bows on the side of your panties and lick your fingers and Kuroo just has to take his dick out and watch you. Getting off hasn’t been this easy for him since college. You’re a camgirl, you exist on his computer screen, and that’s how he likes it.

Which makes it a lot more awkward when Kuroo finds out that the only woman he’s gotten off to in the past…year, maybe?…somehow just got hired in JVA’s sports promotion department as his junior associate.

Your prim work blouse is buttoned up to the collar and your makeup is different, but he knows it’s you. You have to tell him your name twice because he’s too stunned to respond the first time, and even then he can’t summon up more of a response than a curt nod because his mouth tastes like dirt.

You smile a little awkwardly at his cool reception, and the hand you’d extended out to shake swings back down to your side. “Um, the guy at HR said he sent up my info yesterday…I’ll be working directly underneath you?”

Directly underneath me. Kuroo is taking a sip of his coffee when you say this. He doesn’t spit it out, but it’s close.

[dameronology]

home {poe dameron x reader}

summary: poe made a promise to always come home, and it’s one he’s determined to keep

warnings: swearing, mentions of injuries 

more hurt/comfort fluff?? i almost sent myself off to sleep writing this bc of the ending and bc i am shattered. anyhoo, enjoy!

- jazz

p.s i skimmed this, but it has not been properly proof read haha oops pls bare with me, i will do it in the morning 

It had only been five days. 

You’d been apart from Poe for far longer than that; sometimes weeks, sometimes months. It was just part of being in the Resistance, and something you both knew you had to do, but it didn’t make it any easier. You must have had some pretty foul luck to have met the love of your life during a time in which the galaxy insisted on keeping you apart - but one look at the pilot, and all that faded away. He always made it home to you, no matter what. He’d made that promise to you pretty early in the relationship, and you knew it to be true. You could never doubt Poe. 

The Blue Squadron was due back to base at midday; the mission had been pretty secretive, so the comms lines had been shut most the time. Even after begging Leia to let you man the singular one that connected you to Poe, she’d refused, knowing it would only make things worst. The General only ever spoke from experience, and she had plenty in waiting around for cocky pilots. Whilst Poe was arguably a little less reckless than Han, she knew that you would both act as a distraction to one another’s work. You were equally important to the Resistance, and she couldn’t have you moping about on a commslink for hours a day. The joke was on her for that one, because you still moped, even when you weren’t trying to reach your guy. 

 ‘What time is it?’ You asked Finn. 

‘11.56.’ He glanced over at you, eyebrows raised. ‘So the same time as when you asked thirty seconds ago.’ 

‘I’m just anxious.’ You grumbled. ‘I’ve been so lonely the last five days.’

‘You mean the last five days that you’ve spent with me?’

‘Hey, it’s nothing personal!’ You nudged him in the ribs. ‘You miss him too.’

‘I do.’ Finn nodded. ‘We really are just a pair of simps.’

‘Friends who simp together, stay together.’ You grinned. ‘And if me and Poe ever break up, you have first dibs.’

‘Same for you, if Rey and I ever break up-’

‘- that would require you getting together in the first place.’ You reminded him. Finn could only scowl in response. 

‘I’m trying!’ He held his hands up in defense. ‘It’s just complicated.’

‘Nothing’s complicat - they’re here!’ 

You leapt off the crate you’d been sat on, sprinting across the hangar to where a fleet of X-Wings were grouping. Jess came in first, followed by Snap, and then Kare. Poe’s jet was the last to come in, which was unusual for him. He almost always lead the squad - aside from the time he’d managed to blow an engine and had to call you out to tow him back (it’s how you’d met, actually). Bar a few new dents and scratches, his jet looked to be in decent condition, with BB-8 whirring away from where he was perched in the back. You took that to be a good sign, even if he’d been the last to get in. 

A crowd of mechanics reached the fleet before you, tools in hand and ready to repair whatever damage the First Order had thrown at them. You gave Jess a smile and a high five as you passed, but your line of sight was dead set on finding the curly-haired pilot. You had to elbow your way through the crowd, heartbeat picking up as you did. Man, you’d missed him. The last few weeks had been rough for you both and being constantly pulled apart only made it worst. All you wanted to do was to see him, to hug him and-

- You hit Poe with a thud, chests colliding. He immediately wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you tightly against his chest and burying his head against yours. He smelt faintly of jet fuel and smoke, which was fitting. 

His lips were on yours the minute he’d let you go, hands tightly gripping your cheeks as he kissed you with all his might. Yeah, he’d missed you too.

‘Hey, baby.’ You couldn’t help but smile, eyes finally meeting - it didn’t last long though, not when you saw the state of his face. ‘Oh my god. Your eye! And your lip! And-’

‘- I missed you.’ Poe brushed it aside, pressing another exhausted kiss to your lips.   

‘I missed you too.’ You softly sighed. ‘The fuck happened to your face, though?’

‘Just...First Order stuff.’ He bit his lip, brown eyes falling to the floor. 

You sighed. ‘Shit, Poe.’ 

‘I know. He gently nodded. ‘I’m okay though. I’m here with you. That’s the important thing.’

‘You’re right.’ You agreed. ‘C’mon, I’ll take you to medical-’

He cut you off with a groan. ‘Let’s just go back to my room. Please?’ 

‘But your face.’ You gently ghosted a thumb across his bruised cheek, flinching when he shuddered slightly. ‘I mean...I have a first aid kit. I can always take a crack at it.’

‘That sounds a lot nicer than those nurse droids.’ He smiled. 

‘But you have to promise to get checked over tomorrow, okay?’

‘I promise.’

Poe flung his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you headed out the hangar. His own room was actually in the opposite direction, but he practically lived with you in yours. It always felt so much nicer. You’d managed to make it a lot homier, with photos of the two of you and fairy lights strung up. The scent of your perfume always lingered in the air and sleeping in your bed was the closest he could get to you when you were away on missions. In return, he left his jumpers and hoodies laying around for you to have free reign of. It was a weak form of paying rent, but he hadn’t heard any arguments. 

You could tell that Poe was tired from the way he walked. He usually had a swagger in his step, smiling at everyone who passed. Now, he was leaning on you for support, dark eyes staring dead ahead with exhaustion, his brain working at a thousand miles an hour to process what he’d witnessed over the last few days. You’d been on his mind the entire time.

‘Here we go.’ You gently lead him to the bed, helping him shrug off his charred flight suit. He caught your lips in a chaste kiss as you moved it off his shoulders, hands suddenly grabbing yours. 

‘You know I love you, right?’

‘Of course. I love you too.’ You murmured. ‘Is something up?’

Poe pulled you down onto the bed beside him, eyes finally meeting yours. ‘I just...I got captured on the mission. Very briefly, but still. It was scary, and there was a moment when I wasn’t sure I was gonna make it back.’

‘Poe.’ Your breath caught in your throat. ‘Is that why your face is all...’

‘Like this?’ He chuckled slightly. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry.’

‘Hey, don’t be.’ You squeezed his hands. ‘It’s not your fault, and like you said earlier, the important thing is that you here now.’

‘I know, but I promised you, didn’t I? That I’d always come home?’

‘And you did.’ You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. ‘Now c’mon, I gotta stitch you up before this scars.’

‘I reckon I’d look hot with a couple battle scars, y’know.’

‘You would, but I’d rather you not bleed out all over my sheets for the sake of vanity.’ You smiled. 

Digging out your first aid kit, you grabbed a few cotton swabs and some bacta spray. You weren’t a nurse, but your medical skills weren’t terrible either. After a few too many injuries and close calls out in the field, you’d learnt the basics. Half of the scars on Poe’s body had been from your handiwork after he’d been injured -- some of them were a little wonky, but he hadn’t died yet, so you figured you’d done a decent job. The ones he’d done for you were much neater but in your defense, he was reckless as fuck and had a ton more experience in dealing with injuries. 

On the bright side, Poe’s torso seemed fine and relatively uninjured. The white shirt he was wearing was only smeared with soot from the blaster fire, and his bare arms were broad and uninjured, save for one scrape on his left bicep. Okay, maybe the broad part wasn’t relevant to the context, but it was definitely relevant on the whole. He did have good arms. You only ever truly felt safe when they were wrapped around you.

‘This might sting a little bit.’ You crouched between his legs, pouring a little bit of bacta spray onto the cotton swab. You gently wiped it across his forehead, doing a double take when he let out a hiss of pain. ‘You okay, baby?’

‘Yeah, I’m good.’ Poe’s eyes met yours, and he gave you a half smile. ‘Better now that you’re here.’

It didn’t take too long to clean up the rest of his cuts and bruises; they were relatively minor given what he’d been through. The last time he’d been caught by the First Order on Jakku, he’d come home ten times worse than this. You’d spent days by his side in the medical room, mostly chiding him for how funny he looked in the bactasuit, but also to offer emotional support. The duality of love. 

You finished up by wrapping a bandage around the cut on his left arm, gently tying it in place with a safety pin. It was enough to keep it clean and safe until tomorrow, when you’d hopefully be able to convince him to see an actual nurse. You knew that for now, he was tired and probably just wanted to rest. His eyes were sunken with tiredness, and his body had become more and more slumped as you’d gone about cleaning him up. Poe never slept well on missions; a mixture of anxiety and your absence always made for a bad night’s sleep. 

‘That should keep you in one piece for now.’ You said, running a hand through his hair. Poe leant into your touch, pressing a kiss to your wrist. ‘You should get some sleep.’

‘Mmm.’ He murmured. ‘You’re staying, right?’

'Absolutely.’ You offered him a soft smile. ‘Gotta lose the boots though. These are clean sheets.’

‘Can you do it for me?’ He asked, flopping back against the mattress. 

You rolled your eyes at his...Poe-ness, before leaning down and unzipping his shoes, tossing them in a pile across the room. Yours joined them, followed by your jacket and the crumpled flight suit. That was something else to worry about tomorrow. For now, your main focus was him. 

Poe climbed under the covers, shuffling across to make room for you. He reached out to you as you joined him, naturally wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. The tiredness really hit him then, and you could feel his body untense as you pressed a kiss to his jaw. His body was warm against yours, which was a welcome contrast after sleeping alone for the last few nights. 

‘I love you.’ Poe murmured quietly. 

‘I love you too.’ You peered up at him with a smile. 

‘And I’ll always come home to you.’ He gave your shoulders a light squeeze. ‘You know that, right?’

‘I do.’

‘I’ll never break a promise to you.’

‘I know.’ You softly sighed, trying to move closer to him (as though it were even possible).

It was hard for him to fight the exhaustion now that he was laying with you -- after a few moments, his breathing became a little deeper, and his grip on you a little looser. You pressed one last kiss to his cheek, before settling back against his side and letting sleep over take you. 

[kalee60]

I wish you would write a fic where stucky are mad at each other for some reason but get forced into the same tiny escape pod and spend a very interesting hour pressed so tight together on their way back to the surface...

Not going to lie Bec - when I first saw this prompt, my mind immediately went one way, and one way only - and I'm pretty sure you just played me like a fiddle with this idea of yours and knew exactly what I'd write.

So please take this humble offering, you are literally my greatest support and I would not be here without you gorgeous ❤️ my adoration for you is endless for our unique and special bond x

The fic is just over 4k and also on ao3 here (with all tags necessary) if you prefer to read there instead, it'll be part of my stucky bingo fills - Truth or Dare and rated M for mild sexual content 😉

If you'd like a fic - here's the post - I wish you'd write a fic... (It might take me a little bit to write - but I will get there!)

"Are you freaking kidding me right now Rogers?" Bucky shouted as he tried to wrest control of the tiny submarine, or whatever the fucking contraption Stark had purpose built for underwater expeditions, from his meathead best friend who never had a plan. "What the hell was that?"

Steve glared over at Bucky, who scowled back. "I had it under control."

"Under control, my ass. You ran us into a goddamn rock, a rock so sharp we now have a leak - and guess what? We just happen to be about three miles under the sea!"

"I - " Steve started to say then stopped abruptly to slam at the controls before him in the dim lighting, trying to unwedge the small vessel off the rock.

"Don't! Fuck Steve, leave it, don't get us off the rock - we'll tear apart if you do." The sharp edge of panic amidst his anger was clear.

"I know what I'm doing, Buck." Steve ground out.

The panic immediately disappeared leaving only ire behind, "I highly doubt that by looking at the trouble you got us into. I thought partnering up with Sam was a pain in the ass for those few months, but I'd somehow forgotten what you were like."

Bucky heard Steve grinding his teeth, and satisfaction filled him that Steve was at least angry at their hopeless situation, one he was solely to blame for.

They’d been tasked to go to the Raft - one of the inmates had managed to escape - Namor, and although Bucky thought it was way out of their scope of skills to be chasing a literal being that came from the ocean, who had super strength and a huge advantage by, well, being able to breathe underwater, the Avengers assembled and it was left to Cap, no, Nomad and Bucky to sort it out.

At first, the mission was fine and on track, they were given the craft from Stark, Steve assuring both Bucky and the cocky self-appointed head Avenger, that he'd used it many times over on missions, and away they went. Bucky had realised after an hour at sea as they dove deeper and deeper, Bucky wide-eyed at all the sealife and fish that swam into the lights from the craft, that Steve looked a little peaky, a little sweaty. Apparently, after some hard prodding, Steve admitted he'd only taken it out for a few runs in the East River and had never been in the ocean with it.

Bucky was fuming.

He became even angrier when they found Namor, and Steve without any hesitation hit a button that harpooned a weapon from the undercarriage, missing the man completely and hitching it on a nearby rock, careening them towards it. Bucky was certain he saw a smirk and a laugh from their quarry as he swam off - uncaptured. Free.

It was, in fact - quite humiliating for two usually competent supersoldiers.

So now they were fixed tightly onto a jutting rock bed, water leaking slowly into the vessel and Steve was acting like a massive stubborn child about their situation. Especially when they realised they couldn’t call for assistance - they were too deep for a signal.

As a starfish floated by and suckered itself to the window, making a home there, Bucky was starting to wonder if they'd get out of the situation in one piece. They may have the serum running through their veins, but he was certain drowning was still on the scope of things that could kill them. He glanced at Steve who was still pressing buttons - that and along with an irate best friend who had a penchant for knives.

The urge to strangle Steve and his handsomely stubborn face rose with each and every breath, and he couldn't fathom why he was in love with such an imbecile. Bucky, glad that Steve wasn’t aware of where his feelings lay, not wanting to openly tell such an idiot he loved him; though Bucky hadn’t really had an opportunity to approach Steve about it, unsure if he ever would find the courage to bring it up.

Plus right then... right in that moment as they floated and bobbed in the undercurrent while beady eyed fish approached them curiously, Bucky was livid and was certain that even if Steve turned to him to profess his undying love - Bucky would punch him in the face.

“What do you propose we do then smarty pants?”

Bucky’s mouth formed a tight line at the old taunt.

“I suggest we get into the escape pod and head for the surface.”

“What? And give up?”

“Give up Steve? Of course we give up. What the fuck do you think we can do?” Bucky exclaimed, as Steve grumbled into the small space. “For a brilliant strategist you sure are an absolute ninny sometimes.”

“A ninny?” Steve burst out in horrified disbelief.

Bucky felt his lip twitch and almost laughed at Steve’s expression and the absurdity of their situation that by calling Steve a ninny, is what pissed him off the most.

“The only way we can do anything of any use now, is if Namor comes back and surrenders. And I don’t think he’s about to do that, considering he sped off laughing when you marooned us on this damn rock. One I might add that has more strength and the ability to stay calm and think more rationally than you.”

“Are you seriously comparing me to a rock?”

“If the Cap fits.”

“Really?” Steve deadpanned at Bucky’s admittedly terrible attempt at humour.

And before Bucky could say anything further, potentially offer a simple truce, a large shadow loomed above them and Bucky was instantly caught in the beauty and grace of the huge marine animal swimming overhead, close enough Bucky could reach out and touch if there wasn’t glass between them. It looked to be a shark of some type and Bucky was captivated by the smooth skin, the sheer mass and the tail that flicked; until that same large tail hit the vessel on one of it’s sweeps, dislodging it from the rock.

With a triumphant yell, Steve pushed on the accelerator as Bucky yelled at him to stop, and suddenly the whole craft shook and groaned, creaking as the very structure started to unhinge.

“Jesus fuck, Steve. Get in the escape pod now!”

Steve for the first time since they entered the vessel listened to Bucky, and they both jumped up and scrambled for the pods that were situated behind their seats, opening the escape hatches - only to find one empty, and the other thankfully still in place.

“Shit, Tony.” Bucky swore. “Don’t you know about the Titanic? Always have enough damn life rafts. Fuck.”

“We can fit.” Steve said matter of fact and opened the hatch door, just as the thick glass from the front of the craft splintered, water spurting through and a loud cracking filled the space. Bucky’s heart thumped hard and fast at the danger they were in, his Soldier training all but useless in the face of this new terror.

Bucky pushed Steve, who yelped at being manhandled into the small space, and Bucky jumped right in, landing on top of Steve, their faces only inches apart - and that face did not look happy.

They had just enough room for Steve to hit the big red button that closed the pod, and an automated voice immediately filled the area.

“Releasing in three, two - one.” 

The voice went silent as the capsule whooshed out of the craft, and Bucky was on the correct side to see through the glass over Steve’s shoulder, the lights of the vessel flickering as it tore apart from the pressure of the water. Bucky let out a shaky breath that they’d escaped in time.

“Calculating your trajectory and location,” the voice began, then went silent for a few seconds, “you will breach the surface in just under two hours.”

“Two hours.” Bucky griped and wiggled, Steve hissing for him to ‘quit it’. The voice continued on in its modulated voice.

“Due to your depth, the emergency pod has been slowed to ensure you rise at the correct rate so you do not suffer any complications.”

“Complications,” Bucky said under his breath, knowing with the serum it was unlikely they’d get sick. “I’ve got a big bearded one right in front of me. I think that’s complicated enough - just get us to the surface quickly.”

The voice droned on about protocols and safety features for a few minutes and mentioned when it came into range it would send a distress call to FRIDAY for assistance. Finally some good news, because all Bucky could think about was the fact the enormous shark was not in sight. He hoped it was long gone.

“Can you move your damn leg?" Steve hissed, shaking Bucky from his contemplation of why he insisted on watching Jaws a few weeks earlier.

But it was the tone Steve used that irked Bucky further, and ever helpful, he moved his leg back and forth like a petulant kid. “That enough movement for you?”

“Buck, your damn knife is digging into my thigh. Actually why in the hell are you wearing it on an underwater mission in the first place?”

“Why did you bring your shield?” Bucky countered, not wanting to tell Steve about the other seven knives in his pants.

“That’s not really comparable.”

“It is.” Bucky replied sullenly, knowing it wasn’t at all. 

Steve sighed heavily, and they spent a good fifteen minutes without conversing, not even daring to look at the other in the soft green-tinged light from the control panel where Bucky could read their glacially paced progress as they headed for the surface. They were still so far down.

“Truth or dare? Steve suddenly asked, breaking the awkward silence.

“Are you for real? Now?” Bucky asked incredulously. “Look, I know that game worked when we were kids - but read the damn room, well, pod.”

Steve didn’t respond as the charged air between them rose in silent intensity.

“Truth.” Bucky finally bit out after a long minute.

“Why did you bring knives on an underwater mission?”

“Jesus Christ, you don’t let up, do you? Why am I even surprised, it’s Steven Grant Rogers asking. Because Steve, I take them everywhere. You know this. I might have had to stab some seaweed for being rude to your delicate sensibilities or something. And don't you dare try and say they haven’t gotten us out of tough spots before.”

Steve harrumphed, “I’m hardly delicate.”

“Sure thing.”

They fell silent again, until Bucky gave in and sighed heavily. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Why did you lie and say you knew how to drive the boat?”

“Bucky, you don’t drive a boat.”

“Yeah, well you proved that without a doubt.”

Steve tensed up, Bucky experiencing Steve’s muscles bunching together against his body from being so close, he swallowed heavily. 

“I thought I had it handled. How difficult could it be?”

“Steve…” Bucky started, stopped then sighed, “Steve, you need to actually be truthful with me, to the Avengers, especially if you need help. You don’t have to prove that you have it together all the time, every time. That’s what I’m for.”

“So you’re saying you could have piloted the boat?”

“Is piloted correct? But in answer - no, I couldn’t have. So we would have found a better way.” 

“Buck, he’s an underwater being, what else were we going to do but try and follow him down here?”

Bucky remained quiet thinking over the options. When the call went out, only Steve and he were available for the mission, so in a way Steve was correct, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

Steve moved suddenly in an unintentional grind, and a spark flew down Bucky’s spine, shit, they were close, really close, and through his initial fear and anger, Bucky hadn’t really thought about the situation he’d inadvertently put himself in. Pressed up against Steve’s body in a way he’d never been before.

Oh shit…

“Truth or dare,” Steve asked, breaking Bucky’s thoughts on the bulge he could feel just slightly higher than his own.

“Truth,” Bucky gritted out, looking over Steve’s shoulder at the murky water surrounding them. “It’s not like we can do any dares down here.”

Steve paused for a moment, looking directly at Bucky, and Bucky finally gave in and glanced his way, holding Steve’s gaze, and knew immediately that he shouldn't have. Steve’s eyes had taken on a greenish-blue tinge, making them pop and they softened at the edges once Bucky was in their snare. Bucky let out a long exhale. He hated when they fought - but he was still annoyed that Steve hadn't listened or been truthful.

“Are you dating anyone?”

Bucky jerked in surprise, wincing straight away, as rubbing up against Steve wasn’t going to help him remain impassive. “What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one I would have thought,” Steve replied curtly, and Bucky saw the slight tick in Steve’s cheek, and he caught his breath. For some reason Steve was invested in his answer, but why? Could it mean..?

“We live together Steve. You know I’m not.”

“Not even Darcy,” Steve countered.

Unable to stop it from bubbling up, Bucky started to laugh loud and heartily before realising that the motion was doing nothing to stop the friction between them, and Bucky started to worry that the knives on his person weren't the only hard thing Steve could feel pressed up against him.

When he’d composed himself, he saw that Steve had tilted his chin up proudly, and Bucky knew he’d hurt his feelings.

“Uh, that’s a negative. Darcy and I are not dating, she’s like Becca. You know - a little sister, an annoying one too, and yeah I love her, but not in the way you think. To be honest I’d like to date…”

Bucky trailed off, realising he was about to give too much away.

“You’d like to date?” Steve coaxed, eyes riveted on Bucky as he looked slightly down at him, and Bucky wasn't sure he'd ever really get used to the change in Steve's physique. Having to look up to his once small friend, shoulders wide enough he was a literal tank.

“Tall, blonde people,” he admitted, face immediately heating; not meaning to let that particular parcel of words out.

“Oh.” Steve replied, face slack and wondering as he stared at him, the gravity in his eyes not letting Bucky look elsewhere. So Bucky shut his eyes to escape, berating himself for being an obvious fool.

“Dare,” Steve husked.

Bucky snapped his eyes open to find Steve unblinking, attention directly on him, and there was something lurking behind his gaze, something dark and delicious, Bucky uncertain if what he saw was real or not. So he thought about his response carefully before answering.

“Okay, Stevie,” and Steve inhaled sharply through his nose at the nickname, Bucky pleased at the response. “I bet you can’t get your hands to the control panel to turn on the exterior floodlight so we can see the fishes.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “You want to see the fishes?”

Bucky nodded slowly, having a gut feel Steve already saw through his game, considering where Steve’s hands were positioned in the first place. Between their bodies.

Steve wriggled his fingers, and a live wire burned through the very structure of Bucky’s cells, remaking them into something different, something primal as Steve continued to move and pushed his hand between them towards the panel, inadvertently pressing hard up against the front of Bucky’s pants, right over his dick in the process. A dick that was suddenly much more interested in their predicament. 

Bucky might have made an error in judgement as he slipped out a strangled gasp.

Steve’s face lit up in a grin at Bucky’s unintentional response, deliberately mimicking the same movement again.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut, enjoying the touch through his tac pants, wishing for no obstructions between them, and before he could lose himself completely in the sensations, Steve's hand pulled free to touch the control panel, light suddenly flooding outwards. Tufts of seaweed and darting fish fled past the glass as they continued to slowly climb for the surface. 

And before he knew what he was saying, Bucky was pressing his hips the scant inch forward into Steve's body and whispered, "I dare you to do that again."

The ragged and shaky exhale from Steve was gratifying in its sheer emotion, and the 'Buck' that tore from his throat made Bucky look up. The moment his eyes met Steve's he was gone.

"Can I?" Steve asked, and Bucky could do no more than nod as Steve's lips came crashing down on his.

It was the kiss Bucky had been waiting a lifetime for, and he couldn't believe as Steve's tongue slipped in between his lips, a low deep growl erupting unbidden in his throat, that the catalyst was a failed mission where they were stuck together angry in a cylindrical tube in the middle of the ocean.

Steve's hand forced itself back between their bodies, and Bucky moaned as Steve made the best of the small space, rubbing over and over until Bucky grew thick and hard in his pants, all while Steve kissed the very breath from his body. Bucky was stunned that Steve was an exceptional kisser, partly impressed and partly jealous at the realisation that he'd had experience, more than Bucky first thought.

"Jesus Buck, you taste so good."

"Yeah?" Bucky husked back, leaning up as far as he was able, capturing Steve's lips again. What started as chaste, soon became hungry and insistent and Bucky tried to move his hands, but there was no room for two sets between them, Steve’s all that could fit; so Bucky let Steve take control, do what he wanted. And somehow, without even speaking about it, Steve gave Bucky exactly what he needed, what he craved. And if Steve wanted, Bucky would spend his lifetime taking care of Steve in return.

"Your fucking knife," Steve husked into his cheek as he pulled away, lips wet and thoroughly kissed. It was a spaced out look Bucky wanted to see more often.

"That's not a knife," Bucky sassed back.

"Well unless you're extraordinary and have two dicks, then yes, I think the one pressing just above my knee is a knife."

Bucky tried to adjust his stance to lessen the pressure from the weapon, and at Steve's wince, he knew he'd not managed to do it.

"Well to be fair, I wasn't expecting to end up in this predicament."

"Predicament?" Steve asked as his fingers pressed against Bucky's groin again, pushing and sliding to create extra friction.

"Oh shit," Bucky breathed, hating and loving the knowing smirk on Steve's face. "Maybe I've been wanting this for over a hundred years and you know, since nothing has ever happened before, how was I to know that being trapped in an escape pod, while seething in anger would do it for you?"

Steve looked blankly at Bucky, mouth open, shock clearly written over his face. "Over a hundred years?"

Bucky realised he had no filter when Steve had a hand on his dick, and flushed at the long kept secret, now a confession, but kept going, confirming it. He was all in by that stage.

"Give or take a year."

"Buck, why the hell didn't you say anything? I've been waiting since…"

Steve trailed off and Bucky couldn't help it.

"Since..?"

"I was sixteen."

"Fuck," Bucky surged forward, kissing the breath from Steve, and Steve's hand movements became more insistant. Suddenly Bucky felt the zip of his pants loosen and he couldn’t stop the wanton moan from escaping and he wriggled his hips in anticipation. Between one breath and the next Steve had somehow, miraculously snaked his hand into Bucky's pants, and now, now, there was only a layer of thin underwear between them.

Why the hell hadn't he gone commando?

"God, Buck, you feel amazing - knew you would.” Steve said as he looked into Bucky’s eyes while stroking him, and the sheer power behind his gaze pushed all of Bucky’s buttons. “Want to get my mouth on you."

Bucky gasped, vibrating at the imagery and Steve chuckled, nipping at Bucky's lips, kissing him again and again and it hit Bucky that Steve was able to feel every single quiver and sharp intake of breath he made. He was no longer able to hide his reactions, even if his face gave nothing away - Steve was so close that all of Bucky's tells were like a neon sign emblazoned above his head. Steve had him at his mercy.

And Bucky loved it.

"I want that," Bucky whispered back, "want your mouth everywhere. Want my mouth all over you too pal, I can't wait to get you naked."

"You're too much," Steve ground out and suddenly Bucky was being kissed deeply, thoroughly and he lost all concept of time and space. Steve's fingers gripped his dick, squeezing and making short jerky motions, it wasn't the greatest angle, and Steve didn't have full motion - but it was perfect. Bucky was so turned on, his dick weeping into his underwear, and he knew that if Steve kept going, kept kissing him, touching him, he was going to come in his pants like he'd done too many times when they’d slept next to each other before the war.

"Oh fuck Steve, keep doing that."

"You like that?" Steve husked, complying when Bucky nodded his head limply, rubbing in tight circles, fingers tangling in Bucky's underwear as he tried his best to get Bucky off. And Bucky, well he wasn't easy, it usually took him a while to get in the right headspace to feel comfortable enough to let go, to let himself be free in the moment, but with Steve he knew he could be. He trusted Steve, wanted him by his side always, and he knew he'd catch Bucky, protect him as he fell. Steve would never let go again.

"Gonna make you come on my dick," Steve rasped into Bucky's mouth, making Bucky forget everything sweet and hopeful in their future to concentrate on how filthy Steve’s lust driven words were, "going to fill you up, and I'm never letting you out of my bed again Buck. You're mine - you hear that?"

"I… yes… yours," Bucky said as his knees buckled, and Steve had him, gripped him tight, pinching his dick in a way that made Bucky white out and he came apart. Bucky spurted into his pants, underwear soaking up his release and he jerked and whimpered as Steve held him through it, mouth hovering over his, whispering words of want and desire. 

"You're gorgeous Buck, the prettiest fella I ever saw."

"Jesus Steve," Bucky breathed as he came down from his orgasm, legs still twitching. "You're going all Brooklyn and sappy on me."

Steve kissed the corner of Bucky's mouth delicately, as if he hadn't just got him off in the tightests of spots, and removed his hand from Bucky's pants. "Always felt sappy with you Punk."

Bucky grinned back, sated, happy and languid - until he felt it.

"Have you got a fucking bludgeon in your pocket?" he exclaimed when Steve shifted, and awed, Bucky realised exactly what Steve was packing in his plain navy shorts that were often tangled with his black briefs in the dryer at home. Steve's cheeks tinged pink and Bucky was gone, so gone on this man who was sweet and commanding all at once.

"Oh shit Steve, am I going to have fun with you."

"Yeah?" Steve grinned back, suddenly a little shy, a little hopeful and Bucky smiled.

"For the rest of our lives if you want."

Steve sucked in a breath, "I'd like that."

"The surface is less than twenty metres away, a rescue shuttle has been dispatched and will meet you on the surface."

The automated voice fell away, and Bucky and Steve looked over each other's shoulders at the lightened water, having completely ignored the sea of fish and marine animals around them. It was stunning, there was so much life just under the surface.

And before he knew it, they were blinded by sunlight as the pod popped up on the surface, Bucky finding Steve on top of him, all of his weight pressing him down as the cylinder floated in the ocean on its side. The sheer bulk of Steve was phenomenal, a portent of things to come.

"Far out, you're heavy." Bucky commented with a grin.

"Sorry, the serum… well you know."

"No, I like it." He said as Steve kissed him again, leaning down to take Bucky's mouth under his in a passionate but short taste. "But you're still an ass for getting us into that position in the first place."

"How did you know I didn't plan it this way?"

Bucky laughed just as the lid opened and he squinted into the bright light, the quinjet hovering over them, finding himself staring directly up into Clint's grinning face.

"Looking cozy there boys, need a hand?"

"I think we have that handled," Steve replied with a smirk, staring at Bucky, and Bucky could only gaze up into the brightest blue he'd ever seen, the eyes of his best friend, his soon to be lover and hopefully so much more.

It took some maneuvering to get Steve off him without toppling them into the ocean, but soon they were inside waiting as Bruce and Clint secured the pod to take back to Tony's lab.

Bucky made his way to the front of the jet as Steve called in their failure to Fury, and greeted Natasha who was in the pilots seat, stretching his arms up and over his head, popping his muscles from having been cramped up too long. 

She looked him dead in the eye in the unnerving way only Nat could, and remarked, "your fly's undone."

Red faced, Bucky looked over at Steve who'd heard Nat and was silently laughing, telling Fury that 'no, he didn't think losing Namor was amusing', before hanging up and motioning Bucky over.

"You really are a jerk." Bucky hissed as he pulled up his fly, finally realising how wet and uncomfortable he was. He needed a shower. Preferably with company.

"But I'm your jerk though."

"Gee, aren’t I the luckiest guy in Brooklyn," Bucky snarked back at Steve's playful wink, and for the entire trip home, neither of them could keep the grins off their faces.

A day later - Natasha brought Namor in.

[somerpmemes]

Killing Eve S2 Starters

Change as needed

“I think I might’ve killed her.”

“Sorry, were you saving this seat for someone?”

“Oh my god, you think I’m a junkie.”

“This is your fault.”

“Do you know how to dispose of a body?”

“Stab wound. It’s really gooey.”

“Women don’t stab.”

“Sometimes when you love someone you will do crazy things.”

“Well, good news. I was fired!”

“Well, you certainly seem completely normal.”

“You’re really good at stealing,  you should do it more.”

“Tell me about your windows, ___. Tell me everything about them.”

“I fell off a horse.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s a waste of my time and yours.”

“You snore, you know.”

“It’s really bad. You look like a pizza.”

“You can see scary people a mile away, it’s the good people you have to worry about.”

“I mean, who do you even work for!?”

“Home? Is that really what you want? I mean, what do people do at home?”

“You know, I’ve been thinking… all day.”

“There’s no way out of this job. You need this, you can’t leave.”

“You can tell me anything but not telling me… I can’t do that.”

“I bought a shit ton of really expensive windows.”

“You really have changed.”

“No matter how rich and famous you are, you’ll always end up with your dick out on a slab.”

“So you’re not completely heartless.”

“This is how it works, we have to talk.”

“I don’t think he saw us.”

“Just pretend not to remember to hurt my feelings.”

“What do you know about psychopaths?”

“Let’s get this over and done with, shall we?”

“Stop it, ___. I can feel your excitement.”

“Don’t get all giddy and sing along to the radio in my car.”

“I think you’re going to bleed to death.”

“You know what? I’ve had a really shitty couple of days. And I really, really need to go to a doctor.”

“You’re on a very tight leash from now on.”

“Honestly it feels like I’m losing my mind a little bit.”

“Change the subject.”

“Why should I lie about this?”

“You still have something worth having. Don’t let her take it.”

“Look what happens to the people she loves. She’ll love you to death.”

“What did you do, did you murder someone?”

“This looks… delicious. What is it?”

“I’ll just masturbate onto this omelette then, I guess.”

“That doesn’t sound boring or discreet, does it?”

“You don’t need any help in the failure department from me.”

“Add it to the bill.”

“This is gonna be like pulling teeth.”

“You’d better put on something really slutty.”

“It’s gonna be so slutty, I promise.”

“You have a bit of fluff, can’t have that.”

“It sounds a bit manipulative.”

“You weren’t listening were you?”

“___, you are making a mistake.”

“This is a terrible hug.”

“I don’t normally get angry, ___, it makes me feel sleepy.”

“One cock-up is an accident, two cock-ups starts to look like carelessness.”

“She just won’t shut up about being vegan.”

“I’ll put your head in a box.”

“Don’t be a snub.”

“What’s with the shirt?”

“Seriously, do not go shopping on your own again.”

“What? It was free.”

“You could almost say it’s none of your business.”

“Pretty cowardly to get someone else to do your dirty work.”

“Coming home to this is not fun.”

“None of this is normal.”

“What do you mean ‘home’? Where is that exactly?”

“Try focusing on the job at hand.”

“This is taking ages.”

“It’s a computer, it’s not magic.”

“I think I once got a handjob in here.”

“Do you ever not talk about sex?”

“God, this is disgusting.”

“Did you drop this?”

“It’ll be easier if you come with me.”

“What do you think he’s saying?”

“I don’t think anything would work.”

“Did you know babies literally steal the calcium from your teeth?”

“Let’s put a hit out on me!”

“You are joking? I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

“___, it’s a crazy idea!”

“Yeah that’s weird, ‘cause it is. It is your job.”

“You’re being very sneaky, ___.”

“You chose THAT photo!?”

“You used to be smarter than this.”

“Your trousers are rather tight these days.”

“I always worry about being crushed under one of these. They don’t seem stable, do they?”

“Well, this is flattering.”

“You know it’s very brave, what you’re doing.”

“No guts, no glory, right?”

“Don’t do anything stupid. Okay?”

“That’s a little arrogant, don’t you think?”

“You’ve been so distracted lately I thought you forgot about me.”

“Are you scared?”

“You know, I should be more afraid of you.”

“I’m about to be in mourning.”

“You know I’m here to kill you?”

“Of course it isn’t poison!”

“I’m expensive.”

“Are you sure this is legal?”

“It’s always a weapon.”

“I got you what you wanted. A thank you would be nice.”

“You are just take, take, take.”

“You look like someone stuck a mustache on some fudge.”

“Do you want me to love you or do you want me to frighten you?”

“This feels like a one-night stand.”

“I was up all night, trying to work out why I felt so unbelievably shitty and sad.”

“You wouldn’t have understood.”

“Don’t ask me to stay. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Don’t leave me alone!”

“I can’t stand breakfast. It’s just constant eggs. Why? Who decided?”

“There is nothing hidden that will not be revealed.”

“Have you come here to yell at me?”

“You’re not yelling but it feels like you’re yelling.”

“You do know what I do, right?”

“Do I get a watch with a laser in it?”

“Nothing a B.J. and a compliment won’t fix, in my experience.”

“I don’t think a B.J. will help.”

“You will never understand how much harder it is to be nice, and normal, and decent than it is to be like you.”

“I wish I was better. A better person.”

“It’s hard. But it gets easier.”

“Don’t speak to me like that, ___. I like you, but I don’t like you that much.”

“The only thing that makes you interesting is me.”

“I have real trouble telling the truth.”

“Most of the time… most days I feel… nothing.”

“I hurt myself, it doesn’t hurt. I buy what I want, I don’t want it. I do what I like, I don’t like it. I’m just so bored.”

“Why do rich people talk like children?”

“I wanted to be helpful.”

“I dread to think where you’ll be happy, ___.”

“Ignore him, he’s an asshole.”

“You ask a lot of questions. You seem to have the mind of a five year old.”

“People will eat anything if you cut it thin enough and put hot sauce on it.”

“You don’t know if you’re telling the truth or not?”

“I feel things when I’m with you.”

“I don’t like eavesdroppers.”

“That’s a little presumptuous.”

“Send me a text when you’re finished or otherwise I’ll worry that you’ve been murdered or something.”

“I don’t like rich men.”

“Your little plan seems to be working.”

“I’m running out of good safe words.”

“Wow. You’re a hoarder.”

“You always look so annoyed to see me.”

“I see you got what you wanted.”

“What is this? Razor wire?”

“Why do I need a safe word?”

“I’m here for work.”

“How much of the day do you spend thinking about her?”

“Do you feel unsafe?”

“It has to be perfect. There is no point if it isn’t perfect.”

“You’ll be bored.”

“You look like a painting. You’re so… still.”

“Do you ever get lonely?”

“Are you going to listen all night?”

“You should let yourself go once in a while.”

“Listen I really don’t need to talk about this.”

“What a weird-looking gentleman.”

“I played dead, the hero’s technique.”

“Let’s go, now.”

“You’ll never get bored here. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Do you think I would kill you, ____?”

“This can’t be for nothing.”

“None of it means anything.”

“You think you’d be fine without me?”

“If I get shot I want you to remember that it is your fault.”

“If you see anything scary just leave, okay? Don’t be brave.”

“Best to make a swift exit when things get complicated.”

“You did exactly what you wanted. This is all your idea.”

“She wouldn’t do the same for you.”

“You can’t be on her side and ours.”

“You’ve got a noose on your neck. I’m offering to take it off.”

“I’m risking a lot to save your ass here.”

“I thought we were friends.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“God, you’re such a drama queen.”

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

“I bet your kids are ugly.”

“You’re not scared are you?”

“I don’t get scared.”

“They will take you apart for this.”

“Do you know the way out of here?”

“Do you think if we died down here anybody would notice?”

“You’ll feel better soon. I’ll look after you.”

“You want me to be a mess. You want me to be scared.”

“This is what you wanted.”

[heyheydidjaknow]

If I bounce my foot, it makes this chair sound like someone is doing unspeakable things. Also, it has been a hot minute, but I have a chapter written now, and that's what matters. Hopefully the next chapter will be out sooner than later.

Chapter 16

You are going to kill him.

“That is absolute fucking horseshit!” You pace back and forth in front of the restaurant. “His ass was the one who invited me!”

You can practically hear his eyes rolling on the other end of the line. “How is it my problem if he flaked?”

“You’re guilty by association!” You cross your arms. “It’s a favor to you! How is it not at least partially your fault?”

“Because he said he’d be there.”

You hang up on him. You have been standing here for half an hour, and only now do you hear that he can’t be there because of something about a movie. While, under different circumstances, you would be relatively understanding, standing outside in a dress in November is making you a bit less amiable.

You sit down on the step, letting your hair down and leaning forward on your knees. ‘What a waste of a perfectly good twilight.’

You pull out your phone. It’s your father’s birthday back home, ironically enough. You smile bitterly. He and your mother told you when you were younger you wouldn’t be allowed to date until you were eighteen— something about them being worried about you getting in a bad situation— and here you were, flouting their rules, sitting alone on the steps of a restaurant with just enough money for food. ‘Does this count as disrespectful?’

Nobody online has said anything about it. No messages hoping he rests in peace, nothing from extended family.

You set the phone down at your side, quietly watching people walk by. You had your cast taken off today. The people at the hospital gave you some sort of weird juice, and now you can walk around with only the occasional ringing in your ears and half-decent handwriting. ‘Not that my handwriting was that great before,’ you muse. ‘Maybe I’ll finally be able to sit in a car without wanting to jump out.’

“Something got you down?”

There is a thing you have noticed about people’s voices thus far that, until now, you have not thought about in detail; people do not sound exactly like their voice actors back in your world. For example, Donatello does not sound like Rob Paulsen, but the way he shapes his words, the tone of his voice, and the general pitch is relatively similar. He sounds like a teenage boy who happens to talk like his character, and it is by this you have been able to identify voices.

Oddly enough, she sounds nothing like Kelly Hi.

Your blood goes cold. “Yeah,” you sigh, desperately keeping your voice steady. “My date bailed on me.”

Karai sits down next to you on the steps, looking out with you. “That sucks.” She chuckled. “Why’s that?”

“No clue.” ‘Why is she trying this?’ You rest your head on your knees, hands clenching and thoughts going a mile a minute. ‘I’m not made by the Kraang, and the guys shouldn’t have messed with her anyways, so she shouldn’t have my— but I did kill— but she doesn’t care about that, and neither does Shredder.’

“Well,” she sighed, “that’s teenagers for you.” She points back at the restaurant. “Can I get you something? My treat.”

You swallow thickly. “Sure.” Your hands are shaking despite your best efforts. You hope you do not look as completely terrified as you feel. “But I can pay for my own food.”

“Are you alright there?”

‘Sadist.’ You nod.

“Are you sure?” She chuckles. “You’ve gone pale.”

You scramble for a plausible excuse. “I’ve been fasting.” That is not a good example of an excuse. “I need to start getting more iron in my diet.”

“I’m sure some food inside will have iron in it.” The smile on her face— she is not a good liar herself— tells you all you need to know, all venom and quiet pleasure. You seem to shrink next to her.

It is not a request. It is a veiled demand.

You get to your feet. You will not make it far if you run. “Have you been here before?” You force yourself up the steps, opening the door for her.

“No,” she admits, nodding thanks, “but it’s supposed to have good reviews.”

“So you were here for the food?”

A shrug. “You could say that.”

The two of you settled in a booth not terribly far from the door, on your insistence. If you are putting yourself in this situation— ‘At least Casey knows where I am. Why did he have to suggest someplace where I know nobody?’— you may as well not make it easy for her. She orders a milkshake— you can not hear her very well over the roaring in your ears, but that is what she gets— and you drink water exclusively from the straw because your hands are currently incapable of holding anything. ‘What was even the point of all those dexterity-based exercises,’ you cannot help but internally whine, ‘if as soon as I need to be coordinated, I get all flinchy and shaky?’

“I didn’t catch your name.”

Your head rises too quickly. “Huh?”

Another smile. You hate her. “Your name,” she repeats herself. “You haven’t given me your name.”

“Y/N.” As soon as you say it, you know you messed up. “Y/N Collins.”

“Collins?” She leaned against her hand, quietly staring you down. “What is that?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, what country is that from?”

‘Great question.’ You strain to smile back. “No clue. My parents haven’t ever brought it up.”

“Really?”

Your face burns at how easy the clinking of her fingernails against the glass puts you on edge. “Is that unusual?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She took a sip from her drink. “I don’t have many friends, you understand, and I’m from overseas to boot. I don’t know much about what’s normal.”

“Yeah?” You follow her example. “What’re you here for?”

A shrug. “My father’s here on business. Cutlery.”

“For restaurants or?”

“Sure.”

‘If I call Casey, he— but then I’d have to be in his van.’ You clear your throat. ‘Bathroom. Maybe the bathroom has a window.’ “Do you mind if I step out for a sec?” You stand up. “I have to use the restroom.”

“Not at all.” She looks up at you through her eyelashes. “Want me to come with?”

You shake your head, trying not to trip over yourself as you make it to the back of the restaurant, purse over your shoulder. ‘Maybe she won’t think anything of it.’ You lock the door behind you, exhaling as you look around the small room. As is typical of your luck these days— though, you suppose, fighting back tears, it’s not so much these days if it’s been going on for months; you miss your mother— there is none. Graffiti, sharpie illustrations, no toilet paper, and no window. No plan for if the date went badly in the first place— you kick yourself for having forgotten that essential step— and no ride home. You have money for the ticket home— he said he would pay— and a phone and a charger and it is at times like these where you wish you valued your life more. The only chance you now have, as far as you’re concerned, is to either run or fake a phone call at the table.

You just got out of a cast.

You take a deep breath, walking back onto the floor, thanking her for her patience. She nods, waves it off as no trouble, and starts talking again as she drains her drink. You listen, you try to keep the conversation going the best you can, drink right alongside her.

You do not remember when you start having fun, when you start laughing along with her at something or other, but you are now.

“So,” she sighed, lacing her fingers together under her chin. “Who was the lucky guy?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The guys you were here to meet.”

“Kid from Bio,” you answer. “Can’t remember his name.”

She nods. “Do you have many guy friends?”

“A couple, I guess.”

“What’re they like?”

“Busy.” You smile slightly. “Most of them are, anyway. The guy that set me up is free most of the time.”

“What about the others?”

“They’re into martial arts.” You glance down at your glass, and for a moment, you swear it looks slightly blue. “Their dad’s into it.”

“What’re their names?”

You blink, picking the glass up and placing it on top of your hand. “Reese and Donnie and Legoshi and the other one.” ‘Why is my drink blue?’

“The other one?”

You nod, eyes drooping slightly as you struggle to rationalize the color change. “Can’t remember his name.”

“Michelangelo, maybe?”

“Maybe.” You take another sip, trying to taste what it is. “That name sounds familiar, but I can’t remember from what.” Something with salt.

“You said your name was Y/N?”

You nod again. ‘Water isn’t blue, right?’

“Then, Y/N,” she smiles again, eyes slowly drilling holes into your skull, “do you know who I am?”

“Legoshi’s sis, right?” You look up at her. “You’re Karai Hamato.”

Your eyes are too blurry to tell exactly what is happening with her face. “What?”

“Your name.” You take another sip. “Karai Hamato. Or Missy. It’s one of the two.”

“I’m not a Hamato.”

“Yeah, you are.” You giggle before the words slip out of your mouth. “You’re fucking— well, not fucking— you let stepbrother, right? Half brother?” You are forgetting something important. “Are you two blood-related?”

“We aren’t.”

“You sound angry.”

A blink. “I do not.”

“Do too.” ‘I don’t like her for some reason.’ “You’re getting all red in the face.”

“Because you’re accusing me of something I’m not.”

“Fuckin…” you grin. “If you’re into that shit, I’m not gonna fuckin judge you or nothin, but at least fuckin… uh… own up to it.” Your eyes drag across the table lazily.

“I’m no Hamato.”

“You are too.”

They land on a plastic bag.

‘Oh. That’s why.’

“Who told you I was?”

“Your stepdad.” You get to your feet, holding your bag. “Or dad, I guess? I dunno, whichever one didn’t kill your mom.”

There’s something else in her voice as she gets up, following you out. “How do you know that?”

“I just said how.” The cold air outside hits you like a brick. ‘Run.’

“So you know where—“ You shove your weight back on her, slamming her body and in turn her into the brick wall and run.

She grabs your something. You fall, head slamming painfully against the ground. You kick her, she grabs your hair. In what you might later describe as a drunken effort, you reach your hands up towards her face. You feel something squishy, a cry, and she’s facing you now, dragging you into somewhere considerably darker than outside at night. You feel something in the back of your head, she covers your mouth as you cry out, and you do the only thing you can think of.

You taste something again. Something is in your mouth. She stumbles back. You trip up to your feet, and you fall in the direction of the nearest subway tunnel.

The things happening around that time are swirling around in your head, now, face held in your hands as you quietly curl up on the subway. You do not remember entering a train car, or buying a ticket, or even what happened to the object in your mouth, but the crying you remember. You remember someone touching your shoulder with a soft voice, looking up with your mouth covered in sticky, dried stuff and fingers covered in red and clear goo, and that being enough to have them get off at the next stop.

You do not know how long you are on the train. When you finally feel yourself again, your phone is almost dead. Hours must have passed. You do not remember leaving, but you remember the ringing in your ears again as you dial someone, sitting on the sidewalk in what used to be the only dress you owned. You are reasonably sure you are going to burn it.

—

“Is this okay?”

“What?”

“This.” Mikey gestures around himself. “What we’re doing.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“They’re people, right?” He looks over at his brother, currently skimming the same magazine again. “The Kraang, I mean.”

It takes a second for him to process the question, but Donnie does not have to look up from his sewing to know his brother’s reaction.

“It’s just a question.”

“A fuckin— do you hear yourself?”

“I’m just—“

“Leo,” he turns to his older brother, “is killing the threat to all of humanity wrong?”

“But we just blew up a giant ship of them though.” He crisscrosses his legs. “Aren't we killing a ton of people, then?”

“Mikey,” Leo sighs, not looking up from the TV, “there are more people in New York than there are Kraang that we could ever kill.”

“Eight million.” He sincerely hopes the gloves are not too large. “For number's sake, it’s eight million.”

Leo shoots his brother a thumbs up, glancing over at his brother’s project curiously. “Thanks, Donnie.”

“Even if we were actively going on a killing spree and mowing them down that way, there is no way in hell any of us could kill two million Kraang per person even if we wanted to. That’s not even talking about the number of people who would be fucked once they were done with New York.” Raphael punctuates this with a pointed and aggressive flip to the next page. “End of story.”

“But—“

“And even if they stopped at New York,” he continues, cutting him off, “that would still be eight million people dead because of us getting cold feet.”

Mikey opens his mouth again, sighs, and closes it. “Fine, okay.” He leans back against the concrete, eyes going back to his phone. “Anyways, why do you keep getting water on your thing?”

“Hm? Oh, you mean the gloves.” His taller brother looks up. “It’s easier to get the needle through it when it’s warm and wet. Plus, it makes the— stop laughing!”

“Then you thought it too.”

Heat rushes to his face. “You’re so immature.”

“But you thought it too. That's hypothetical.”

“You mean hypocritical.”

“I said what I said.”

Michelangelo’s phone rings.

He puts a finger, bringing it to his face. “Hel— hey, slow down.” His brow furrowed, the other three leaning towards him. “No, wait, what— who’s she?”

There’s a pause.

“She did— wait, hold on.” He tosses the phone to Donatello. “It’s for you.”

He catches it. “Hello?”

“Could you pick me up?”

He blinks. “What, with the Shellraiser?”

Your voice is paper. “Yup.”

“You hate the Shellraiser.”

“She wants to go in the Shellraiser?”

Donatello waves his younger brother off, letting you talk. “I hate Karai more, currently. Please pick me up.”

Leo pipes up. “What happened?”

He ignores him. “Where are you?”

There is a pause as she checks, his brothers watching for his reactions. “One-oh-three Saint Corona Plaza.”

“Got it.”

“What happened?” Raphael, this time.

“Need me to stay on the line?” With a pointed glare at his siblings, he climbs into the ‘raiser.

“Please.”

He calls behind him at his brothers. “I’ll be back before two.” The phone is brought back up to his face as they moan about a lack of info. The machine is spurred into motion. “What are you doing in Queens so late?”

“No idea.” He can hear your strained smile. “Ask Karai.”

His heart stops. “What happened with Karai?”

You repeat your statement.

“She didn’t—“

You cut him off. “I’m not back in the hospital, no.”

He resists the urge to sigh in relief. “Did she follow you?”

“I’ve yet to be hit over the head, so I’ll hasten to say no.” There is something off about your voice, a certain quality about it that he cannot quite pin down. “I’ve been essentially useless the whole time, what with her drugging me and all.”

“She what?”

“I think she did, anyway.” It is incredibly disturbing to him how calm you sound. “Unless water’s blue and kinda tastes salty now. I don’t imagine it would be though,” you ponder, chilling years off of his life, “even if you guys messed up the mission. It would be green, since that’s the color of the acid, right?”

He mumbles something out about indicators, head reeling as he tries to not hit a street lamp.

“That’s what I thought.” You sigh. “Say, have you got any hydrogen peroxide at your place? No, wait, scratch that, I’m burning the dress anyways.”

“Dress?”

“Yeah.” You huff. “Last time I’m letting Jones set me up on a date. Last time I’m going on a date period until all this gets worked out, actually.”

‘It is not okay to feel happy that she had a bad date.’ Still, he tries to steer the conversation away from the horrifying for a minute. “What happened?”

“I got stood up.”

“Why?”

“I forget. Where are you?”

He glances up at the street sign. “Still pretty far.”

A pause.

“You know,” you swallow, “I should really stop doing this. It’s not exactly great of me to have to ask for your help all the time.”

“None of us mind.”

“That’s not the point.” He hears a car on your end whizz by. “I should be able to go a week without making you go out of your way for me. You guys manage.”

“We’ve also been training in ninjutsu since we could walk.”

Tired, he decided. You sound tired. “Other normal people manage.”

“You’re not a normal person, though.”

“Sure I am.” Your words sound slow to him. “I keep interesting company is all.”

“That’s a word for it.”

“What, don’t count yourself as interesting?”

He turns a corner. “Not the first word I’d use, no.”

Another long silence. Occasionally, he notes, you will him something into the phone, say a quiet, unintelligible word of phrase he cannot quite make out, presumably in an effort to continue looking like you are on the phone to passers by. The streets, like most nights nowadays, are mostly empty, save for the occasional cop car or kid, making the commute a relatively uneventful one. It gives him time to think, anyways, and after a while of quiet contemplation and forced slow breaths so he did not look quite as panicked as he felt once he picked you up, a question quietly surfaces.

He would have come in a heartbeat. He was not exactly sure what he would have done, but he would have come running, regardless of if he could help. Why would you not call? Why would you try and deal with that sort of situation alone? Did you not trust he would come?

His fingers tighten around the wheel. What had you been thinking going out alone, anyway? After all that was happening, you thought it was a good idea to go on a date without a plan for if it went south?

Another sharp turn. If nothing else, he thinks, he can not say you are no longer naive or lacking in innocence. Maybe you are just incredibly prideful. Regardless, it will get you in more trouble than you had to be in.

What would he do if you got yourself irreparably damaged?

—

You are not having a good time.

You have managed to convince yourself that this is not, in fact, anything like the car. For starters, it is less aerodynamic; it is a metal box on wheels, designed for subway travel and is, therefore, not designed for optimum wind resistance, meaning it cannot go as fast with the same amount of energy. The inside of the vehicle is also distinctly dissimilar to a car, its origins blatantly obvious, and was entirely lacking in windows. While this is enough to convince you currently that climbing into the machine is not as serious a death sentence, the fact of the matter is that, yes, it is a metal monster on four wheels that drives on roads. If you keep your eyes shut, maybe you will not vomit as soon as you stumble out of the door.

Your stomach hurts. A lot of your body hurts, actually. You do not remember the “fight” with much clarity, but you do understand your head hurrying. You have yet to get a good look at yourself, but if you had to guess by the stains on your fingers that you can now identify as blood, the bad taste in your mouth that you are fairly sure is vomit and the flaky stuff on your face that also looks suspiciously blood-like, you would hasten to guess the answer is “not great”. You certainly do not feel great, if that is indicative of anything.

He has not said a word so far.

You do not force conversation, now. You would prefer not to talk about the ordeal, anyways.

There are monitors that he is staring at in order to steer. Why he would not just get an actual steering wheel or the old hull of a car from a junkyard is beyond you, though you guess a hippie van would not offer the same armored protection as a subway car.

“We got molested by a sea monster today.”

You look over at him, eyes half lidded. You want to sleep. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His eyes are focused on the screens. “Apparently it liked my submarine.”

“That’s… a thing.” You rub your hands on your thighs absentmindedly. “How did that work out?”

“Fine. It wasn’t all that strong.”

Your lips curl up into a weak smile. “That’s good, then. The mission went alright?”

He nods. “Without a hitch, funny enough.”

“That’s cool.”

The conversation dies as quickly as it starts.

The drive from that point on is an uncomfortably quiet one. You pick blood from under your nails, thumbs occasionally tracing the scars on your fingers— you are still not used to the difference in texture— as the hum or an engine rumbles underneath you. You are reminded of a memory from when you were younger, driving down the hallway, basking in the warmth of your own body heat with your arms tucked to your chest from under your top layer. The machine you were in now was colder, staler, but the hum of the engine, the time, all reminded you quietly of simpler times.

You swallow thickly. ‘I’m such a coward.’ You shut your eyes gently, stomach churning. ‘I’m going to get the people I care about hurt, aren’t I?’

Donnie says something.

The Shellraiser is stopped. You look up at him. “Huh?”

When he was younger, he and his brothers did not know the limits of their own strength. When they were first learning to fight, when they were first sent to spar against one another when their sensei was asleep, they would often go a step or three too far. He was never one to get involved— his brothers were stronger, more enthusiastic fighters— but he remembered distinctly what they would look like the morning after a fight, cheeks and eyes various shades of purples and blues and blacks. They would ask him, on occasion, after particularly brutal brawls, for him to paint over whichever brother’s face— usually Raphael or Leo— to hide them from their father. He got used to the sight, got better at understanding their anatomy, which chemicals mixed together would do which things.

He is getting sufficiently tired of seeing you hurt the worst he has ever seen.

You look so small in the seat, face black and blue, hands shaking. Your skin is paler than when you two first met, less healthy, a thin coat of sweat coating your skin and hair stuck to the back of your neck. Your dress— he has never seen you in one— is stained with rust, hidden poorly from under your jacket. He can tell already which bruises will take a while to disperse, where she had busted your nose and slammed your head against something hard. You need a shower and water and a blood test to make sure you do not die from whatever Karai gave you.

He clears his throat again. “I don’t want to be rude.”

“You’re doing me a favor. You have a right.”

He does not look you in the eyes. “It’s just… can I ask a question?”

You sigh. Even your voice sounds tired. “Shoot.”

His fingers trace the rim of the steering wheel. He takes a slow breath. “Why didn’t you call?”

“When she cornered me, you mean?”

A nod.

He glances over at you, staring down at your hands, turning them over. “You were on a mission. I didn’t want to mess it up.”

“I would’ve come, you know.”

“I know.” You smile ruefully. “That’s why I didn’t.”

His fingers grip the wheel again, trying to not openly overreact. “Y/N,” he says carefully, “if a mission fails because we need to come save you from Karai, then we fail the mission.”

“How many people in New York would die if you guys did fail?”

“That’s not the point.”

“It is.” You look up at him. “You get yourself in a lot of trouble because of me. You have to make sure I don’t kill myself all the time. Think logically, Donnie.”

He snorts, heart pounding in suppressed, almost overwhelming frustration. “Are you going to say something about thinking logically?”

“Fair point. But you get mine, right?”

“I don’t, actually.” He leans back in his chair, fingers gripping tighter still. “The only reason we’re messing with the Kraang at all, the only reason we started all this, is because I saw you and wanted to help you.” He counts on his fingers. “The only people I really, honestly care about this much are my family and you, and I know that, if I had never met you,” and he looks you dead in the eyes now, “I would just make a filtration system for my family and that would be the end of it.”

Your eyes are still gorgeous. Behind the bruises and the blood, you really are stunning.

“Sure,” he concedes, “maybe Leo would’ve gotten involved because he’s that selfless. I would’ve gone along with it, since he’s my brother and all, but if that were the case…” He takes a slow breath to calm down. He never thought it would come out right now at all times. “If that were the case, I would’ve never tried red velvet cupcakes. Mikey wouldn’t have a friend outside of the family. I never would’ve learned about crime movies, or had talks about science with anyone but myself, or any of the thousand other things you’ve given us.” He does not know exactly when he grabs your hands, but he is now, and you are so warm and alive right now. “I care about you. We care about you. You have to know that. For fuck’s sake,” he laughs, “I’ve told you outright, before!”

You open your mouth to say something. No words come out, for once.

He squeezes your hands. He cannot tell if your heart feels like his does, the straining against his chest, the aching feeling. He was never good at reading people or emotions or any of that.

But it’s time now. He can barely think. If he does not now, he might not ever.

“I love you, Y/N.”

Table of Contents

Chapter 15

Chapter 17

[wonder-kid-pugh]

Coming Home for Christmas - (Mal Pugh x reader)

Mal loved Christmas

It was without a doubt her favourite time of the year. Every year it felt like she was 6 years old again as her excitement grew with each passing day getting closer and closer to Christmas. She just loved everything about it. The playing in the snow. Spending time with the family. Belting out the lyrics to Christmas songs. Drinking hot chocolate while snuggling up in front of the fire.

But what really made Christmas special was the people she spent it with.

One of the few downsides of being a professional soccer player is the lack of time. She spent so much of the year away from family and always training whether it be for club or the national team meant she didn't get to see her family as much as she would have liked. Not to say she regretted any of it. It was the one of the few sacrifices of being on one of the best teams in the world. No, what she regretted was the lack of time. She regretted how time seemed to slip by so easily. It just seemed to slip through her hands. She could do nothing but watch as it helpless slipped away.

But that's what made the holidays even better. She cherished the time she got to spend surrounded by her family and friends. It just made the holidays just so special no matter how stressful it was at times.

It was also a constant reminder of her relationship.

Y/n L/n has been in Mal's life since she was 6 years old. She has been there through the highs and lows of her life and her career. They had done practically everything together. Growing up she attended every single one of Mal's games and whenever she needed someone to help her practice Y/n was always there to fill whatever position was required. Y/n was Mal's first call after getting called up the National Team and you better believe your ass that Y/n was there in the front row cheering her on when she made her debut. It was only after Y/n surprised her at the game did she realised that she had fallen for her best friend.

Mallory had fallen and had fallen hard

So you can only imagine her delight when on Christmas Day 2017 after both being caught under the mistletoe together Y/n kissed her confessing how she's been harbouring feelings for the forward for a while now. Mal was so dazed by what was happening that she could only stare shocked at the poor girl leading her to believe she didn't feel the same. It was only when the girl started to stumble over her words apologizing profusely for her actions did Mal regain her senses and pull her back into a gentle kiss.

And that was the beginning of their relationship.

It also didn't hurt that it was the same day a year later that they told each other that they loved each other. Christmas for Mal was her favourite time of year for all those reasons. I mean how could you possibly hate Christmas after all that? She had everything she needed. But this year it was slightly different. She had the snow, she had the carols, she had the presents. She even had family.

But she didn't have Y/n.

See while Mal decided to join the Bruins and eventually The Spirit, Y/n enlisted in the Army. Ever since she was younger all she wanted to do was help people. She wanted to make people's lives better. She wanted to do some good in the world. So she became a medic for the Army. Running into battle to help the people who help serve and protect their country. And although it was tough they preserved. Y/n's selflessness was one of the reason she fell in love with her and as much as she hated being away from her, Mal knew that she couldn't stop Y/n from doing what she wanted to do and that was to help people.

She missed her girlfriend. But Mal knew that it wouldn't be for much longer. Y/n promised she would be here for Christmas. It was their holiday. She would never miss such and important day for the two of them. And she never breaks her promises. Which is why Mal as happy as could be answered the facetime request immediately after seeing her girlfriend's name flash on the screen.

She immediately stopped everything she was doing and smiled as she answered the facetime request. She practically squealed when she saw the image of her girlfriend who's been away from her for over a year now, "Hey Babe!" But her smile faltered when she saw Y/n give her a weak smile in return, "Hey Love". Mal scrunched up her eyebrows, "What's wrong?" Y/n sighed and bites the corner of her lip as she stares back at her long term girlfriend.

Immediately Mal knows something is wrong. Mal has known her girlfriend long enough to know that her has a habit of biting the corner of her lip when she's nervous about something.

Or something has gone terribly wrong

"What's wrong?" Mal asks as she frowns lightly at the screen. Y/n's shoulders slumped as she released a big sigh dragging her hand down her face. This did nothing to ease Mal's nerves, "Y/n?" Y/n looked sadly at the Mal as she wanted nothing more than to hug her in this moment after the disaster of a day she had today, "There was an attack on the base...".

Mal's eyes widen, "Oh my god! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" She quickly shakes her head, "No! No I'm fine. Everyone's fine. A few bumps and bruises but nothing we can't handle". Mal could see Y/n look down no doubt playing with her fingers before she looked back up at her sadly, "The plane on base that was planning on bringing us home was damaged in the attack". Mal's breath hitched as Y/n continued, "It was the only plane on base at the moment and there's a storm incoming and they don't think they can get a plane here in time before it hits".

"What does that mean?" Mal asked her voice dropping to a whisper. She tried to look anywhere else but her y/e/c met Mal's brown orbs lacking their usual sparkle, "I don't think I'm going to be home for Christmas".

It was that moment that Y/n wished nothing more than to tell her it was a terrible joke. She could feel her heart break as she watched as Mal's face dropped. The smile that never failed to light up a room disappeared in a second.

And the worst of it all was the fact that there was hundreds of miles in between them stopping her from comforting the love of her life.

"I'm really sorry Love. But because of the storm they can't get another plane to get us home. And it means that they're short on medics so they need me to stay until they can get someone to replace me. I swear Mal if there was a way-" she tried to soften the blow as if it would relieve the forward in some way.

Mal could see how distraught the medic was at telling her the devastating news. She knew that she would rather give her left arm than miss Christmas at home. She knew that she was trying her best to seem okay for her because as much as Mal hated the idea of not being together for Christmas.

She knew that Y/n hated it more

"Babe?" Mal says stopping Y/n from her ramble before she went into a downward spiral. She tries to put on her most convincing smile as she looks at her through the camera, "Y/n it's okay. I-its okay really. There's nothing you can do about it. It's just really unfortunate timing". Her face softens as she looks at me sadly, "You know I'm going to do everything in my power to get back home to you as soon as possible right?" Mal smiles lightly, "I know".

It looked like she wanted to say more before her name was called sounding very urgent, "Shit Love I'm really sorry I have to go. His condition just dropped-". But I shake my head, "It's okay go save a life". She snorted at the saying her girlfriend had taken to telling her everytime she had to go away. She quickly kissed her hand putting it to the camera before quietly whispering, "I love you superstar". I smile at her softly, "I love you too Hero". She gave me one last smile before the call disconnected.

Mal sighed as she dropped her phone burying her head in her hands. The most important holiday of the year and she's missing the most important person in her life. Mal loved Christmas.

But this Christmas already seemed off to a bad start.

............

"Is everything okay Mal Pew Pew?" Sonnet asks as she dropped into the seat across from the sombre forward. Everyone noticed that the forward's mood had dropped significantly since the day before. Everyone knew how excited she got at Christmas. The already happy going forward just seemed to shine even brighter at Christmas.

So what happened between yesterday and now that made the forward do a complete 180?

"Yeah what's up? There's been something off with you since yesterday" Lindsey adds as the rest of the team listened in on the conversation. Mal just checks her phone once more only to see that there is still no new message from Y/n. The forward sighs as she runs her hand through her hair, "Y/n's base was attacked".

Everyone's eyes widen as they look at the younger player. "What? Is she okay?" Rose asks sitting up. Mal nods, "Yeah she's okay but she won't be home for Christmas". Everyone was silence. They all knew how important Christmas was for Mal and Y/n. They saw how much the two loved each other. They were the light of each others lives. And they knew how devastated they must be being away from each other at such an important time of the year.

"Awe we're sorry Mal" Christen says as she drops into the space beside the forward with Tobin right beside her as always. Mal shrugs trying to play it off, "It's okay. There's nothing we can do about it. Just really unfortunate timing". Nobody says anything knowing that nothing could make up for the loss of a love one on the holidays. All Christen did was pull the younger forward into a hug.

After all the hell that was the Corona Virus the team decided to hold a massive team celebration for the holidays. All the player's families were all going to join at the end of camp and all spend Christmas together. And while Mal was grateful she would be surrounded by so much friends and family, nothing could replace Y/n being there.

If only she knew how much Y/n was busting her ass trying to get home to her....

...........

Y/n stood back straight hands behind her back as the general looked her over. He eyed one of his top medic up and down, "Are you sure this is what you want?" But all she did was nod respectfully, "Yessir". Even though he look a bit reluctant he nodded nonetheless, "Although I don't like it". Y/n  tensed up before he continued, "I respect your decision and understand why you want to". Y/n relaxed the tiniest bit as she nodded at her superior, "Thank you sir". He starts to nod before he starts filling out some paperwork, "Go pack your bags".

Y/n scrunched her face lightly, "Sorry sir? I don't understand". He just glances up at me with a small grin, "You have a plane to catch". He looks back down going back to writing, "You better hurry. The planes going to be here soon and you need to leave soon to beat the storm". You couldn't stop the smile spreading across the young medic's face, "Thank you sir. For everything". He looks up from his paperwork, "Go home to your girl L/n". Y/n gave him one last salute before rushing out to go pack her bags. The General shook his head with a small smile. Although he hated losing his best medic he knew that where she needed to be was home.

It was the best news she had ever heard. They were somehow able to scramble a nearby charter plane to bring some troops home. Y/n being one of them. Within 15 minutes Y/n had all her belongings packed and was running towards the plane which was scheduled to lift off in 2 minutes. She had just make it into the plane as they were about to lift off. As she had got on the plane she took out the small Polaroid picture of her and Mal. She smiles as she ran her thumb over the creased photo showing just how many times she had taken this photo out. She quickly placed a gentle kiss to the precious photo before tucking it away again and instead swapping it out for her phone.

It was a long flight home but it was okay because Y/n had some major stuff to plan and it would all be worth it in the end to be able to see Mal on Christmas Day.

............

"Christ" Y/n mutters as she pulls her jacket closer to her. Being away from home for so long she almost forgot how cold it was in her home state. However the cold Colorado weather did nothing to deter the medic though as she felt a wave of warmth flood through her as she knew she was so close to seeing her family again. She was close to seeing her Mal again.

Although it seemed like the world was against her today.

It was hard enough for Y/n to find a taxi to drive her to where she needs to be. She blamed it on the heavy snow falling and the fact that most people were probably at home, all bundled up in blankets surrounded by their loved ones enjoying one of the best holidays of the year.

Exactly where Y/n should be right now

Thankfully her prayers were answered as one car pulled over and allowed her in. She quickly told the driver where she was heading before slumping against the seat. They were driving comfortably for a while and Y/n struggled to sit still in the seat.

That was until she faced her next problem

"Shit.." the driver mutters quietly but Y/n was able to hear him over the popular Christmas songs playing quietly from the radio. Y/n leans forward, "What's wrong? Why are we stopped?" The driver gave her a sympathetic, "Sorry but the snow's too heavy and is blocking the roads causing traffic. It pretty much bumper to bumper right now". Y/n sighs as he turns to her fully obviously seeing how important it was for her to get where she needs to be.

Y/n flops back against the seats, "Fuck..."

.............

"Okay time to hand out presents!" Vlatko calls out to all the families scattered around the room. Mal grudgingly gets up from playing with Marley who had been doing well from distracting the girl from missing Y/n right now to now sit beside her sister as everyone moved to the Christmas tree they had set up.

Brianna who could see how much Mal was struggling to get into the Christmas spirit without Y/n present, "You okay?" Mal plasters on a fake smile even though she knows that her sister knows just how fake it is, "I will be". Brianna doesn't say anything and instead turns to her daughter who looks at her aunt confused tilting her head, "I think Aunt Mally needs a hug right now. Don't you think Marls?"

The small girl smile and jumps into her aunt's arms never one to deny a hug. Mal chuckles lightly as she hugs the small girl back, "Thanks Marls". Marley smiles brightly as she turns so she's sitting in Mal's lap as she starts to fiddle with the forward's fingers to keep her occupied.

Mal sat and watched as people one by one exchanged gifts which lifted her spirits the tiniest bit. The team had made it their mission to help their crestfallen teammate. They had done everything and anything which came with the perfect Christmas. They had baked cookies, made gingerbread houses, sang Christmas carols, built snowmen, everything. Which Mal appreciated very much as it relieved the ache in her heart slightly.

And before she knew it, it was her turn to pick presents. "Want to help me open my presents?" Mal asked the little girl in her lap who nodded enthusiastically. But just as they started tearing into the first present the door burst open.

Mal's face scrunched up as she heard her teammates gasp looking at something behind her. She shifts around turning to see how has her teammates attention. But her eyes widened as she saw who stood behind her staring straight at her.

Because there stood Y/n L/n

Brianna was the first to recover as she moved her daughter out of her sisters lap and into hers. At this Mal scrambled to her feet and ran into Y/n who had her arms open waiting for her. "Your here" Mal cried out into her shoulder as she clutched onto her for dear life, "your really here".

Y/n had never felt more complete in her life as she wrapped her arms around the girl she so desperately loved, "I'm here Love. I'm home". Hearing this Mal pulled back and kissed Y/n harder than she ever had before. In any other moment they would have been mindful that they were in a room filled with the family and friends but all that mattered in that moment was each other. After being away from each other for just over a year, all they cared about was that they were back in each others arms.

Once they separated Mal looked into Y/n's eyes as both their eyes started to water, "But how? I thought-you said you couldn't-". Mal just couldn't get the words out but Y/n chuckled, "Did you really think I wouldn't move heaven and earth to make it back to you for Christmas?" Mal laughs but as she wrapped her hand around her neck and Y/n held her face in her hands she flinched lightly, "Why are you so cold?"

Y/n looked a bit sheepish as she gave her a small smile and her cheeks flushed but Mal could tell whether it was from the cold or her question, "Well I was in a rush and I didn't get time to change. And then we got stuck in traffic and then the taxi broke down. So I kinda ended up running here".

Mal pulled back a bit shocked, "You ran here? Babe it's snowing outside!" "Oh trust me I know" Y/n laughed making her girlfriend shake her head at her in disbelief. "Beside" Y/n grinned, "it's not the first time I ran through a snow storm to tell you I loved you". Mal smiles at the memory of how when they first said that special 4 letter word with Y/n almost killing herself in the process as she ran through a snowstorm to Mal's house to tell her before Mal could even get a blanket around her to warm her up.

"Your so stupid" Mal mumbles as she brushes from snow out of Y/n's hair. But that doesn't stop the massive face splitting smile from spreading across Y/n's face, "I love you too". Mal smiles as she presses another kiss to her girlfriend's lips, "I love you more than anything in the world".

Mal took her girlfriend's hand and dragged her towards their friends and family, "Cmon let's get you warmed up". But they didn't make it far before something collided with Y/n's legs, "Y/n!" Y/n smiles as she picked up the small girl in her arms, "Hey Marls". The small girl tucked herself into the crook of Y/n's neck and she wrapped her arms around her neck in a tight hug, "I missed you". Y/n just kissed her head and hugged her back gently, "I missed you too Marley". "Not as much as me" Mal said quietly leaning into the medic's side causing her to wrap her arm around the soccer player.

After greeting her family and friends from her long time abroad she found her place right beside Mal as they resumed opening Mal's presents. The two were making sure that they were always touching in some sort of way as Marley help the two open Mal's presents. Once Mal opened her last present Y/n gave her a small smile, "I'm sorry I don't have a present for you..." But Mal simple shakes her head intertwining their fingers, "The greatest gift I could ever receive is having you home for Christmas".

Y/n smile brightly, "Well that's good because..." Mal frowns as Y/n detaches theirs and stands up in front of her for a second. But that all changes when Y/n bends onto her knee.

There was a pin drop silence as everyone watched in awe as Y/n pulled out a small box smiling at the forward who's eyes started to water once more with her hand clasped tightly in front of her mouth.

"Mallory Pugh" she starts, "you have been an essential part of my life since I was 6 years old. I couldn't possibly imagine my life without you there. Through the highs and lows, through the best and worst of times we have been there for each other. And the thought of not being home for Christmas with you made me realize something". She takes a deep breath as she sees tears stream down Mal's face, "I don't ever want to worry about missing another Christmas with you. I want to be home for every Christmas for the rest of our lives. I want to be there cheering you on at every match. I want to be the one you come home to and argue about with one of us do the dishes". Everyone laughs while Mal snorts remembering all the playfully arguements they have over who's turn it is to do the dishes only to end up doing them together in the end.

"I want to start a family with you. I want to give you all the things I promised you if you'll let me. So..". She opened the small box to reveal a beautiful diamond ring, "Will you, Mallory Diane Pugh, make me the happiest person alive and marry me?"

Mal doesn't even say anything and instead flings herself into Y/n's arms. The force of which sends the two of them toppling to the ground. But Y/n barely had anytime to recover as Mal smashed her lips against hers. They were vaguely aware that everyone else was cheering like mad for the young couple. When Mal finally broke the kiss, the two of them gasping for air, Mal nods frantically, "Yes. Yes! I will marry you". Y/n smiled before bringing her into another kiss.

As Y/n lifted them up off the ground they were immediately swarmed by their family. "It's about time!" Horace laughs as he hugs Y/n. Mal's eyes widen, "You knew?!" He shrugged sending a wink at the medic, "She's had our blessing since you were 18". Mal looked at Y/n who blushed, "I asked ages ago but I wanted to wait a little longer until we were both stable". Mal nods and interlocks their fingers kissing her cheek.

"So how long do we have you for?" Rose asked after looking at the ring perched on her friend's finger. Mal's smile falters slightly as she looks to her now fiancée. But Y/n smiles brightly down at her soon to be wife, "How about forever?"

Now this catches everyone's attention

"What?" Mal breathes out. Y/n smiles, "As of today I have been honourably discharged from service". Mal jumps up again wrapping her arms and legs around her, "Your staying?" Y/n nods kissing Mal's temple, "Forever Love. I'm staying forever".

Once again everyone smiles the young couple as Vlatko smiles, "I guess now is a good time to introduce our teams new addition to the medical staff". Everyone turns to Y/n who smiles. All the youngsters plus Kelley jump on top of Y/n and start cheering. "I'll also be taking over diets and fitness training alongside Dawn so I don't know if you'll be cheering for much longer" Y/n laughs.

Once everything gets back on track, Mal takes residences in Y/n's lap as they move onto Tobin's gifts. "I love you so much Superstar" Y/n whispers in Mal's ear as Tobin unwraps a new skateboard from Ash. "I love you too Hero" she whispers back. Y/n presses a kiss to Mal's shoulder as she wraps her arms around the smaller girls waist. This had to have been the happiest moment of their life so far. Nothing could top this not even winning a World Cup. But what did you expect.

They both loved each other more than they love Christmas

Hey guys!!! First off Merry Christmas or happy holidays!!! (Whichever). I wrote this a few days ago in the build up to Christmas and I hoped you enjoyed it. Christmas has always been a special time for me so I hope this brought you a little joy whether you celebrate the holiday or not. Even though it's been quite strange this year I hope you enjoy the day and get to spend it with the people you love. Anyways I hope you enjoyed. Once again Merry Christmas and until next time, bye!!!

[growup-thatbeautiful]

drive is out now!! It’s a Post Season Harringrove Hurt/Comfort and I’m pretty proud of it. Read it on ao3 here or below the cut. Likes and comments are very very much appreciated :))

Billy doesn’t drive after starcourt. Something about being behind the wheel makes him sick with memories that he can’t understand. They’re abstract and totally unreliable.

But it’s kind of always been like that for him. He's used to having gaps in his memories, except most of the time it’s because of trauma. Or that’s what Joyce tells him and the rest of them whenever they have nightmares about things they don’t remember happening.

He's been living with the Byers and El. He tries to be useful around the house, doing whatever he can because he really doesn’t have anywhere else to go. It’s hard, though. It seems like everything he does, he does wrong. He never had to learn how to fold sheets or clean dishes. Not only was neil hargrove terribly homophobic, but also misogynistic, which is a word joyce taught him because she teaches all her kids that stuff. And he’s one of her kids now. So, yeah. Neil never had Billy do the chores because “he’s not a true man, but he sure as shit isn’t a woman.”

It's alarming how quickly this odd family replaces his old one. Neil seems miles away. Neil doesn’t try to look for Billy, and that’s fine as far as Billy's concerned. He's got scars to cover up the ones Neil made. no need to dwell on that when he has so much other trauma to process., right? Kind of.

He does check up on max. Asks her if neils pulling any of the shit he used to get from his dad. double checks for bruises hidden under makeup or long sleeves, and never finds any. Good.

Joyce is good. great, even. She doesn’t blame him when he breaks a dish because he heard a noise. She listens when he says he needs some alone time, and she knows when he’s just saying that. She gives good hugs and has no problem giving him Jonathan's old room to stay in while he’s off at college. leaving Hawkins behind him, calling every night anxiously awaiting the return of It. Nothing happens, and eventually they relax. Or they try to. That part of billy’s been broken for a long time, though.

So Joyce starts fading into memories of his mom, and he tries not to blame her.

Again. He's never had a great memory anyway. He does remember his mom telling him that boys don’t marry other boys when he was five and told her he wanted to marry his best friend. Then she told him never to tell his dad. It's strange, because he can’t remember her saying that she loved him, even though he’s sure she did. Did she? Huh.

At least the painful memories he gets to keep. Neil beating’s. Beating up on Harrington that night he didn’t know what was going on. The car crash before his mind was taken from him. Max’s terrible scream of “Billy” mixed in with the ear-ringing pain. Waking up in a hospital with starburst scars across his body. Skin that isn’t his. They remind him not to get to comfortable, remind him that the kindness he’s being shown isn’t well earned.

Because Billy knows he wasn’t worth those hospital bills and sleepless nights. All he’s done to the people here is hurt and scar and he’s seen them with the deepest kind of fear in their eyes. Fear because of him.

Everytime he goes down a path like this, he tries to stay clear of everyone. Because. They all tried to hide how much hurt he’s caused. They don’t blame him like they should.

He didn’t know any of them well before. But he knows El didn’t always carry around that police badge or look up at every siren, praying for a familiar face only to be disappointed and try not to show it. Because if Billy survived, couldn’t the more-deserving Hopper? Apparently not.

He knows Joyce didn’t always search for Will in every setting and have those folded up pictures of the two men that died because of all the shitty things that happened. Because she can’t stand to forget their faces or not carry that burden for just a second.

Will didn’t always get quiet every time a draft went through the room or refuse to go out that front door first. Because so many things have been ruined for him.

The rest of the kids didn’t always jump at every noise or bunch together for every corner, carrying lucky momentous and items. Because God forbid they have a break.

He doesn’t see them a lot, but Nancy and Jonathan definitely didn’t carry around an emergency kit everywhere they went, packed with medical supplies and Nancy’s choice gun. Because they’re going to be there to help if anything tries to take another person they loves away.

Some part of Billy reasons that it’s not all his fault. He wasn’t one of those scientists or government agents that started the whole thing.

But he did enough. Enough to warrant all the shit that he’s going through. It’s not the healthiest way of thinking, he’s aware of that, but it helps him get by.

No matter how hard he tries, though, there’s always someone at the house that finds him. Curled up into a ball, dry hitching sobs and no tears because “Hargrove men don’t cry.” Billy gets damn close sometimes, but the fear that Neil’s going to come out from the cracks in the wall and kick him where he lays is too real.

There are usually soft words.

“We don’t blame your here, honey. That wasn’t you, that did all that stuff. And I’m not going to let anything else bad happen to the people under this roof.” Joyce’s strong and sure voice, only breaking at the edges.

“I know what it’s like to have him control you like that. I know better than anyone else, and I know how scary it is. Mom says it’s over now, though, and I can’t feel It anymore. I would tell you first if It came back.” Will never says anything more than that, which is comforting in itself. It’s nice to have someone else.

“They lost. You’re here. I’m here. Will’s here. It is safe.” El’s statement is simple, but she makes it easy to believe.

He believes them until he gets another new memory of what he did. The Mayors blood on the floor. Heather’s petrified screams. Standing before that thing and feeling nothing but a perverse sense of but awe and, buried beneath that, a screaming sense of horror and the constant feeling of slipping in the sand.

There are times, like right now, when he doesn’t want someone to make him feel better. He wants someone who can drive him away from here and sit in an empty parking lot and smoke away the thoughts. Someone like Steve.

He would do it himself. He would. But he can’t. Can’t get over that fucking gas pedal. So he calls Steve.

They’ve done this enough times for it to make sense for Billy to have Steve’s number memorized. And his work schedule. And to know when he with Dustin or Robin or any of the others on one of those group outings Billy can’t bring himself to go to. There are too many sad faces, too many broken homes.

It doesn’t matter what he wears. It’s just Steve, and they’ve gotten past the point of caring about things like that.

Which. Is obvious to anyone who looks at Billy, not that he sees anyone. He’s lost a lot of weight. Muscles that used to be defined are gone, replaced by scars. He can’t get them back yet, because he’s not strong enough to lift any of them. And because muscles like that can hurt and hit. His eyes are surrounded by heavy bags, bloodshot and tired. The new callouses on his hands are mostly scars from anxiety ridden breakages, and the pained nails are because El wanted to try the new dark blue out. His hair is greasy and flat, nowhere near what it used to be. It hangs around his shoulders in curled waves, so far from where he used to be.

He doesn’t even try to smile to the sad reflection in the mirror.

Steve doesn’t honk when he arrives. The first time he did that and the noise sent Billy spiraling, and Steve had felt terrible, cussing up a storm that actually helped Billy out of it. Luckily, it was just Billy home and no one else was there to witness they’re collective train wreck.

Before he leaves, Billy grabs something from the bathroom and stuffs it in with the rest of the random shit he brings.

Billy slides into the passenger seat, leans his head back against the headrest, and says, “So, Harrington, how you been?”

Steve, mercifully, looks the same as always. He looks good, the asshole. It’s a relief that he’s still able to feel that fire Steve lights up. Different than all the other King’s from California. A few more scars, but they all have that. His shades are pushed through his hair, brown strands flopping over lazily.

“Same as usual, so fairly shitty and on the brink of breakdown. You?” It would be a normal conversation if Steve wasn’t completely serious, corners of his mouth only ticking up when Billy reaches over and bats at the band-aid charm hanging from the mirror. A joke from Billy to say sorry for, you know, almost beating him to death for no real reason.

“Oh, you know.” He doesn’t need to say more for Steve to get the idea. It’s the same way they’ve been feeling for months now.

“Yeah.” The car ride over isn’t far from the Byers’ house, and they spend it in almost silence. Some pop station is playing low on the radio.

“This the shit you listen to, pretty boy? I expected more than this.” It’s an attempt at normalcy, something that they’ve slowly been working up to.

“At least I don’t blast out my eardrums every time I want to listen to music,” replies Steve quickly, smile evident in his tone.

And it’s normal. It’s them. The way they were before it all got so messy. For that brief moment, there’s no winter night or july 4th. For a brief moment Billy can entertain a reality where he went to the find Steve instead of a fight. A world where Steve, with those pretty eyes and snap remarks, could hold his hand and stop him from doing all the bad things in the future.

But the moment passes. Steve clears his throat and looks forward at the road.

They arrive to the quarry, water at the bottom glinting, tossing, teasing. The car doors slam shut, and they slide up on to the front of the car. Billy pulls his last minute grab out of the bag and hands it to Steve.

“I want you to cut my hair.” Steve takes the scissors and towel in his hand, looking at Billy.

He doesn’t ask if Billy’s sure. Billy figures that Steve knows at this point he wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t real. If Billy wasn’t sure. Steve cards a hand through Billy’s hair. It feels. Good. Real good.

Steve starts cutting, and Billy winces at the sound of the scissors closing around his hair. His past.

“I like to think it isn’t just part of me.” The comment comes out of nowhere, surprising Billy more than it surprises Steve.

“What?” Steve’s voice is calm, the sniping of the scissors is methodical.

“The anger. The aggression. The tendency to hurt. I like to think it’s not in my nature, but my nurture.”

“I don’t think you’re violent.” It’s a laughable statement.

“You’re joking. Did you forget most of last year? I’m the one with the bad memory here, Harrington.” Billy can practically hear Steve’s disapproving mother’s frown behind him.

“That wasn’t you.”

“Right, sure, whatever, bullshit. But what about…you know. Last winter.”

“What happened before that?” asks Steve patiently.

“Jesus, you’re worse than Joyce. My dad sent me after Max. Found her at Byers’ place with you. Hurt you a whole fucking lot.”

“Is that all he did? He just told you to go after her?” Billy ignores the way his stomach does flips when Steve runs a hand through Billy’s hair, straightening it out.

“So you’re my fuckin’ therapist now? What do you want me to say? He kissed my head and sent my on my merry way? That’s now how he works. I’ll admit, I was saved by his new wifey. He can’t use me as a punching bag when she’s standing right there, not like he did with mom. Nothing I couldn’t handle. Nothing worse than what you’ve done to me. And the insults weren’t too bad either. He forgot to call me a fag.”

“Oh. Shit, Billy, I-“

“It’s fine,” cuts in Billy, hating the pity in Steve’s voice. He’s not the one who should have it.

“You didn’t deserve that.” This time it does make Billy laugh. It’s a hollow and haunting sound, an echo of his charming boyish laugh.

“Sure I did, dipshit. You’re probably one of the people who knows best why I did, in fact, deserve it.”

“So then I’m the best person. to tell you that you aren’t that person. You haven’t been that person since you left him and all of that shit. Let me ask you something. Do you want to hurt people now?”

“No!” Billy startles himself with his sudden enthusiasm, and Steve jumps a little behind him. Steve is quicker to recover, though, and he runs a hand through the hair he hasn’t cut yet. It’s soothing. Billy barely resists the urge to lean into it. Ask for more.

“Did you ever want to hurt people? Like really, truly want to see them hurt?” Billy has to think about the question. Steve deserves an real answer.

Flashes fly through his mind, bringing on too familiar emotions. Anger, a need to make someone, anyone, feel the way that he’s feeling. Fear that not having this power over people would make him weak. Horror at what he’s about to do. Detachment, painful as he grinned and laughed.

“I just wanted to have control. Take some of the hurt I was feeling and give it to other people. It was a rush that I was addicted to. The thrill of the fight, the feel of flesh against my fist, the look of blood on my knuckles. I liked fighting, still do. I didn’t like hurting people.” Steve puts the scissors down on the car hood, fluffing Billy’s hair and sliding down next to him.

“I’ve been on the wrong side of the fists of two people I’m now okay with,” admits Steve. “Believe me, I know now to take a beating. I’ve been heartbroken by two other people I’m close friends with. I forgive too easily.”

“So you’re a compulsive truster and I’m a compulsive fighter. What a pair we make, huh Harrington?”

“Yeah.” agrees Steve, bumping his shoulder against Billy. “What a pair.”

Maybe it’s the haircut. Maybe it’s the sunlight confessions. Maybe it’s how carefree and happy Steve looks. But Billy feels lighter. Like there was this unspoken weight he had been carrying around that no one knew about. Or everyone knew about, but couldn’t help.

The thing is, Steve didn’t even say anything. He didn’t promise a better future, he didn’t say that he was safe. He shared some of the personal pain they all carry around.

“I don’t think I ever said sorry. I am sorry, you know. I. I didn’t-“

<i>Mean to hurt you. Want to hurt you. Mean to let you see how much I hurt. Want to need you.</i>

“I know. I’m sorry too. Someone should’ve known. About you.” Steve leans closer, and Billy chalks it up to the night chill as the sun settles below the glistening rocks.

“I was good at hiding things I didn’t want people to see.”

“Yeah, well you’re not alone there either.”

“You good at hiding, pretty boy?” Billy’s eyes flick down to Steve’s lips, and, is Billy imagining it or is Steve looking at him the same way?

“Apparently not good enough,” jokes Steve. His smile falls off of his lips, and he leans minutely closer. If Billy wasn’t paying attention to all of Steve…

The way his hair glows white and gold in the sunset. That wrinkle between his brows. The way one of his eyes is a little darker than the other. How he smells like cigarette smoke and that fancy hairspray, even when his hair is blown from the wind.

The way he looked that night. Cool and collected, then terrified and fighting for his life. So beautiful in the harsh starlight and then so abstract in the broken kitchen light.

Before he knows what’s happening, Steve is filling that gap. Kissing Billy like he’s trying to sooth the pain from their past. Maybe he is. Billy wouldn’t put it past him.

His hand finds a way to Steve’s hair, the same way Steve’s been running his through Billy’s now shorter hair. He curls it into the strands, holding on tightly. Soft.

The way Steve sighs his name takes Billy away from it all. The pain. The memories. The lack of memories.

They lay out under the stars for a few minutes, but Billy knows Joyce will freak out if she can’t find him. Not because she doesn’t trust him, he has to remind himself, but because she doesn’t trust others.

On the drive home Steve plays that pop stuff again, and Billy gives him the appropriate shit for it, a smile on his face the whole time. His fingers laced through Steve���s.

They arrive at the house, and Steve declines to come in. Gives the excuse that his parents will be waiting up when they both know it’s not true. Billy can’t blame him. Billy understands needing to be alone, needing to get away.

Billy leans through Steve’s window and wished that he could kiss him goodbye. Well. The teasing will have to do.

“Night, King Steve.”

“Goodnight, Asshole.”

If Joyce gives him a knowing smile at the door, Billy doesn’t smile back. Probably.

He definitely does. Maybe he deserves the smile. If Steve thinks he does.

[mediocre-writerr]

when you love someone [leah rilke]

leah rilke x fem reader

request #1: Ahhhhh I love your Leah x reader series!!! It’s so good :) I know you have a bunch of requests but would you consider doing a part four where Leah and her are sitting up one night and the reader confesses shares more about her past, maybe something darker (like knowing the reason that Becca died, but she doesn’t blame Shelby) and that she never wants to leave Leah once they get home and they fantasize their future together. The other girls overhear and also share what they want to do when they get home. Lots of fluff because the girls deserve it, lol

hi guys! i love this series so much, honestly it’s one of my favorite ones to write! so as long as you guys keep requesting for this series to keep going and ideas for it, it’ll keep going! so if you love this series as much as i do keep requesting for it! also i have a lot of imagines queued up so stay tune!

*not my gif*

You were sat in between Leah’s legs, her arms wrapped around you. Her front pressed against your back as her head hooked onto your shoulder. You relax into her touch, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“What was life like back home?” she asks you, breaking the comfortable silence.

You shrug, staring back out at the ocean, “Um not the greatest. It was really me and Shelby against the world.” 

“What about that Becca girl you and Shelby always mention? Weren’t you like the three musketeers?” Leah asks jokingly, but your whole mood seems to change, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” 

“No it’s okay, really. I trust you enough to tell you.” you say and she tightens her arms around you, giving you a soft squeeze.

Before you go on with your story, you kiss her softly. And a small smile appears on her face as the two of you pull away.

You let out a sigh, “You were right it was always me, Shelby, and Becca against the world. The three musketeers. But anyone with eyes can tell that me and Shelby were closer.”

“This is terrible!” you exclaim, your face contorting into disgust as you pushed the 7/11 hot dog away from you. 

“I can’t believe you ate that!” Shelby adds on, pretending to gag.

Becca picks up the hot dog from the hood of your car, casually taking a bite, “It’s not that bad!” she says with a mouthful of gas station hot dog.

“Eww Becs!” you and Shelby say in unison, before laughing at how the two of you were in sync. 

“Reputation was big at our school. If you didn’t have a good reputation, you might as well fall off the edge of the Earth. If you couldn’t tell, Shelby and I were the top of the social food chain. Popular, pretty, everything all the girls wanted to be.” you say.

“Ah, you had the classic typical movie high school.” Leah says, trying to get a better grasp on the story, “I’m assuming Becca didn’t have the best rep.” 

You nod, still staring out at the big blue, “You assume correctly. She had a few mental health problems. Her parents sent her away for a little bit and it was this big uproar at the school. When she came back me and Shelby never loved her less. At the time though, I didn’t quite know the extent of how much Shelby actually loved her.” 

“Wait so Shelby had feelings for Becca?” she asks.

“Mhm, that’s what caused the downfall.” 

“Hey Shelb? Are you okay?” you ask her softly, you were driving her home after bowling with your two best friends.

She just looks at you with a tight-lipped smile, “Yeah...I’m okay.” 

You give her a look and raise your eyebrows, “Why do I not believe you?” 

“Because you worry about me too much.” she says, mocking the look you were giving her.

“I only worry when I have a reason. You’ve been quiet since we trashed the car. You didn’t even sing ‘The Climb’ with me.” you shoot back, staring at her seriously.

“I’m okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Shelby says, giving you a hug before heading inside.

“I didn’t find out about their kiss until later. When Shelby came to me crying, the last time the two ever spoke.” you continue onto through your sob story. 

There was a frantic knock on your front door. You were home alone watching Criminal Minds, so you were a little taken a back at the pounding at your door. You open the door just a tiny bit, peeking through the little hole you created.

Shelby was standing on your porch, pacing back and forth. Tears streaming down her face. You immediately open the door wider and she crashes into your arms. 

“I’m ruined, everything is ruined.” she whispers softly.

You run your fingers through her hair, “Shh...it’s gonna be okay. Whatever it is we’re gonna be okay. I promise.” 

“That night she told me everything. She didn’t want to admit to herself or anyone else, but with me it was like a truth serum. All of it just spilt out, her feelings for Becca. Her feelings for girls in general.” you let out another sigh.

“Why was it a big deal?” Leah asks, hesitantly, knowing it’s a bad topic. 

You let out an empty laugh, “If you met our parents you would know why.” 

“Y/N come down here!” your parents yell from downstairs.

You skip your way down the stairs and into the kitchen, “Yes?” 

“Mr. Goodkind told us about Shelby and Becca.” they begin and you swallow tightly, “We wanted to make sure Shelby didn’t do anything like that to you. Or make sure you didn’t do anything to her.” 

“No I haven’t and why would it matter if I did or if she did?” you retort and your parents look a little taken aback by that comment.

“You know why, the Bible says-” your parents say, giving you a look.

Internally you roll your eyes, “People deserve to love who they want without being judged. God loves everyone, no matter what they do. That’s what you always taught me right? Not to carry hate in your heart?” you say and your father opens his mouth, but you keep going, “But you're gonna stand her and carry hate in your heart for Shelby when you don’t even know what happened.” 

“Y/N...is there something you’d like to tell us?” your mother asks. 

You wanted to tell them. Just blurt it out. Maybe you and Shelby could be burnt at the stake together, but you just gave a tight-lipped smile.

“No.”

“So I’m not gonna win daughter in-law of the year.” Leah says jokingly and you laugh, thankful for the laugh in a serious conversation.

“Definitely not.” you respond, still chuckling to yourself.

“Damn...but proceed onto the story.” she says, gesturing for you to continue.

“That day, the day that Becca died I was at Shelby’s pageant. I sat with her awful parents. Who were finally okay with me being there, after a long conversation between them and my parents.” you say rolling your eyes.

Leah tightened her arms around you, probably sensing that this would take a turn. She hooked her head back on your shoulder, kissing your cheek softly. You smile softly at her sweet antics.  

“Mrs. Gilroy?” you ask, stepping out of the little theater.

You could hear little sniffles on the other end of line, “Oh Y/N. Becca...she’s dead. I found her in her car, she purposefully crashed it into a street light. We called 911 and rushed her to the hospital, but she uh she didn’t make it.”

And you just dropped your phone onto the floor. Before falling softly to your knees. Frantically, picking up the phone. Tears streaming down your face at the news.

“Do you need anything Mrs. Gilroy? I’m sorry-I’m sorry you have to go through this.” you ask, trying your best to stay strong.

“We’re okay for now honey, thank you. But she left you and Shelby notes. You can swing by and grab them.” she suggests and you knew she wanted you to have them. 

“Okay. I’ll be over later tonight.” 

You rushed your way into the contestant’s dressing room. Desperate to find Shelby to let her know the news. When you found her, she was staring blankly at herself at the mirror. Someone already told her.

“Shelby?” you say, you voice barely above a whisper. 

Her head immediately turns to you and she gets up from her seat, rushing towards you. Flinging herself into your arms, she buried her face into the crook of your neck. You could feel the tears fall upon your neck as your cheeks were stained with your own. 

“She can’t be gone.” Shelby sobbed out and you shut your eyes tight, shaking your head softly.

“But she is love...she’s gone.” 

“I got 31 calls from Becca that night. If I just-if I just answered one phone call. She could still be here right now. She’d be at home, practicing her bowling so she could kick me and Shelby’s ass when we got home.” you say, a small tear slipping down your cheeks.

“You can’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault.” Leah reassures you and you nod, swallowing to choke back the tears.

You take your hand and wipe off the tears that were falling, “I know. But I don’t blame Shelby either. I couldn’t, maybe this new me would, but the old me couldn’t. Her parents would have done anything to stop her from feeling that way. Her reputation would be shot. And in a small town like ours, that’s a death sentence.” 

“Is that why you want to save everyone?” she asks, finally understanding everything, “Because you couldn’t save Becca?”

You nod, “I can’t lose anyone else. Especially Shelby and you.” 

“What’s gonna happen when we get back to the real world? With us?” she asks you.

“I’m not the girl I was before I came here. I’ve learned that reputation and what other people of you doesn’t matter anymore. It’s not gonna matter in the long run. So I don’t want to leave your side.” you tell her, turning around to be face to face with her.

She cups your cheeks softly, “Baby, we live miles and miles away from each other.” 

“I don’t care. I don’t want to be apart from you. We could have our own little apartment with Shelby and Toni and probably Martha.” you suggest to her and she smiles widely, “Breakfasts every morning, but don’t ask Shelby to cook she’s shit at it.”

Leah laughs softly, “It’s okay I can cook. Double dates all the time, playing UNO with Martha. Lazy mornings, twisted in bedsheets.”

“Reading together in bed quietly before bed.” you add on and she smiles and nods.

“Our perfect life.” 

“Fuck you Y/N, you suck at cooking more than I do.” Shelby’s voice cuts in from her spot next to me. 

You and Leah both jump at her voice. Thinking that you two were the only ones awake. 

“Would we really all live with each other?” Toni asks, “I don’t want to hear Y/N and Leah go at it.” 

“Us? You two literally did it under a lychee tree not too far from here.” you say firing back at Toni’s snarky remark.

“You told her about that?” Toni asks, looking at her girlfriend incredulously.

Shelby looks down at her hands, smiling coyly, “Maybe.” she says drawing out the ‘e’. 

“I guess if Leah’s cooking, I’ll be fine.” Toni replies with a shrug.

“I’d love to move in with you guys too!” Martha says, “But only if Marcus could come. And we play UNO at least twice a week.” 

“Is everyone awake?” Leah asks, staring at all the girl.

A murmur of yes’s fill the previous silence. 

“I want to get out of my house, you know? My parents aren’t the greatest either. Maybe we could be next door neighbors!” Fatin suggests, “If any of the couples need privacy, you ladies could hop over next door.”

“I don’t think it’ll be much better with all the guys you’ll bring home.” you joke and Faitn flips you off with a smile on her face.

Dot nods in agreement, “That would be so fun! Pizza nights and watching trashy reality TV every night.” 

“Roomates?” Fatin asks, extending her hand out to Dot.

“Roomates.” 

“Do you guys mind adding two more roommates?” Rachel asks and Nora nods smiling.

“Of course.” Dot says with a smile.

“Yay neighbors!!” Shelby yells and all of us laugh softly.

Toni playfully rolls her eyes, “I’m not escaping any of you ever, huh?” 

“Nope!” the rest of you girls say in somewhat unison, laughing together.

[the-great-bbe]

The children shriek with laughter as the waves roll against their legs. The sweet sound melds with the crashing of the sea, of Mellario and Ellaria gossiping about their beloveds, of Rhaella sighing and relaxing for once. All is bright and golden and warm, save for their ice-cold goblets of sangria. Elia tilts her head back against her chair and smiles. Let those bastards keep that ugly ass throne, she has all she needs right here.

Or, the sangria beach party that Elia and her loved ones deserved. A short fic to start off Summer is for Dorne!

Among his many talents, Elia’s little brother is a master of mixing drinks.

He is a viper after all, and vipers know their poisons and how to mix them. Tequila from the agave blooming across the hillsides pairs perfectly with lime juice and distilled orange blossom nectar to make a margarita. Horchata foamy and fragrant with Summer Islander cinnamon can be elevated with sugarcane rum. And there’s nothing better on the gods’ green earth than red wine—proper Dornish sweetwine, not that diabetic piss from the Arbor—left to idle in icy splendor with strong brandy and fruit. Blood oranges, black strawberries, white nectarines, even a tart green apple or two. Their cousin Manfrey picked them all fresh from his private orchards near the Water Gardens just the day before. The bounty of Dorne for Dorne and Dornishmen alone.

A pitcher of his perfect sangria rests in a bucket full of ice slurry. Already her goblet is half empty, despite her efforts to sip and savor. It tastes so rich on her tongue much abused by dull Riverlands ale and Reacher wines. There are few blood oranges to be found north of the Boneway, even for a Princess of Dorne, and Elia feels the urge to inhale her drink. She sighs and rolls her shoulders. Just another sip for now. Summer explodes on her tongue, ripe and rich and such a dear welcome home.

Elia doesn’t remember the last time she was this happy. On Dragonstone it was a constant haze of sulfur and marine fog, and Kings Landing reeks from miles away. But here, on a long stretch of beach near Saltshore, the sun burns bright and delicious above the palm trees. Not a single cloud in the sapphire sky, nor any fog to mar the turquoise seas. Elia rolls her head back against her wicker chair. Perhaps later she’ll relocate to the hammock strung between two date palms and let the balmy sea breeze lull her and her children to sleep. But for now her precious Rhaenys plays in the surf with her cousins and Viserys, and dear Aegon builds a sandcastle with Oberyn’s help.

Instead of cowering from the Mad King’s rages and simmering with hatred towards her once husband, Elia lounges in the shade. Zinc paste is cloudy white on her shoulders, nose and ears to protect her from the strongest of the sun, just like the children. But the rest of her body is resplendent with shea butter and avocado oil. Thick aloe leaves already sticky with cooling sap wait in a basket by her feet in case she must ward away a sun burn, but her skin soaks up the midmorning sun like a child returning to her mother’s embrace. Gods, but the sun! She stretches her arms above her head and nearly knocks her wide brimmed hat aside. She swears she can feel the sunlight itself like warm silk through her fingers, like a waterfall down her chest to pool in her stomach and ignite joy in her veins.

She lets her gaze fall back towards the sea. When was the last time Rhaenys laughed this loudly? When was the last time Viserys laughed at all? Poor boy, but he, his mother and his baby sister are well in hand now. Targaryens by birth they may be, but the blood of Myriah Martell and Dyanna Dayne run sevenfold in their veins. Dorne shall never turn its back on any child no matter the color of their skin, and even from her shaded refuge Elia sees the freckles blooming across Viserys’s shoulders. Good; the more sun the better. Uncle Lewyn’s eldest daughter Obara throws him headlong into the waves and he shrieks with joy, while her little sister Nym and Doran’s Arianne demand their own toss into the surf. Rhaenys and Manfrey’s daughter Sarella help Lewyn’s Tyene search for shells and crabs, giggling and kicking seaweed at each other. When they find a proper shell, they bring it to Aegon and Oberyn who add it to their castle. Aegon blows a messy kiss onto Rhaenys’s cheek and Elia’s heart runs over with sweet warmth. Her babies, alive and well and happy.

It was a terribly close thing by the end of Robert’s Rebellion. Elia’s correspondence was cut off by Aerys in his paranoia, but she was able to smuggle out a letter to Oberyn when Rhaella left for Dragonstone. He returned with his sellswords to rescue them from their imprisonment, and not a moment sooner—Elia remembers how Kings Landing burned from her view on the ship home to Dorne. To think of what would’ve happened had they stayed…they say that Aerys was cut down by his own Kingsguard, and that the royal nursery was torn to shreds by the Mountain That Rides in search of children to kill.

Elia shudders. Perish the thought, banish it to the seven hells. Rhaegar is dead, and her children are Martells now. Even Rhaella forsook the Targaryen name when they alighted in Sunspear and she was hurried into proper birthing chambers. Daenerys came to the world not as a Targaryen princess but as a Lady Martell of Dorne, with Rhaella Martell the new Lady of Planky Town. Viserys and Aegon shall not give their lives to the Wall and Rhaenys shall not be chained to a Baratheon prince. Not if Westeros intends for Dorne to remain in the Seven Kingdoms, and truth be told Elia wonders if Doran intends to leave anyway. They entered into a kingdom with a union, and perhaps they shall leave with the sundering of one…

But that’s not what matters today. What matters is refilling her goblet. Elia raises it high, and Doran shuffles over with the pitcher. Her dear older brother is shirtless, stained with sand and salt, and there is a sweet flush to his cheeks. Even his bad leg seems fine with the therapy of burning sunlight illuminating their bones from the inside out. Mellario must certainly appreciate that! Her good sister lies on a spread linen sheet on the sands with Ellaria, Oberyn’s paramour. Both of them are bronze in the sun, a silk turban around Mellario’s head and Ellaria’s curls formed into twists down her back. And its’ said that Cersei Lannister is the most beautiful in Westeros, obviously people are blind. They look up at them with mischievous grins, before bumping their heads together and giggling. Elia smirks at Doran. “Careful now, habibi. I believe you’ll be ambushed later in the night and whisked away by a mystery woman.”

He laughs and his eyes crinkle at the edges. “I’ll be sure to not fight back too much.” He plops down next to her and sips at his lemon water. The maesters forbid him from alcohol and sugar until his gout is under control, a true tragedy in Elia’s eyes as the sangria is excellent. But even more excellent is seeing how happy her brother is. Gods, to imagine him mourning her and her babies as they did for uncle Lewyn, it’s a fate she would not wish on her loved ones. She intends to live to a hundred and twenty, just to ensure he’ll always smile at her with crinkled eyes.

Elia leans against his shoulder and peers out towards the cabana higher up towards the oasis grove. “Has Rhaella returned from Saltshore yet? Dany was giving the wet nurse a bit of a hard time.”

“Missed me, have you?” Rhaella, emerged from their cabana and the platters of fruit kept safe from the sea salt there, calls down to them. It’s been only a few months, and Rhaella is unrecognizable. Elia is glad to see the plump roundness of her stomach and thighs where before she was only skin and bone. And her skin, once as pale as parchment and twice as translucent, is as dark as her great-grandmother Dyanna. It glows against her silver-gold hair and lavender eyes, and there is happiness in her face where before there was only stifled fear.

Elia waves Rhaella over to the empty wicker chair by her side. Perhaps later, when the children sleep off their lunch and the adults are properly sauced from sangrias and margaritas, they’ll return to the cabana and lounge on the day beds. Maybe even one of the cabana boys—cabana men in truth, with their strong arms and backs—can give them all shoulder massages. Rhaella has a little favorite who is always eager to help his new lady relax. Elia raises her eyebrows at her good mother and she takes a long sip of her margarita. Elia is far from judging, as Rhaella deserves whatever happiness she can grasp.

They all do. How long have they all suffered these last years? Suffering Aerys, suffering Rhaegar, suffering the war that they wrought upon Westeros. Elia still remembers the screams from Rhaella’s chambers during their terrible stays in Kings Landing, she remembers the cold silences before Harrenhal and the even colder absences after. And now those men are dead and thousands with them. All over some Northern girl, and a prophecy that probably foretold the coming of the seasons than any promised prince!

Well, fuck them. Westeros has a new king now, in that stinking castle filled with blood and shit and ghosts, and the Baratheons and Lannisters can figure it out now. Let them have the starving smallfolk ready to rebel after a harsh winter. Let them have the honor of bartering away pieces of their souls until all that remains is bleeding pride. Let them have it all. All that matters to Dorne is the rice crop, and managing citrus exports, and the wellbeing of its people. Elia plans to build a new school for smallfolk children and petty gentry in Sunspear, as she is now Princess of Sunspear. More Martell branches for a blood orange tree to bear wondrous fruit. All beneath the sun, so bright in that perfect sky…

Elia sips her sangria. Oberyn and Aegon are finished with their sandcastle, and now he’s pulled out a guitar from somewhere and tries to teach his nephew how to play. Rhaenys perches on Obara’s shoulders and pretends to joust with Arianne who is on Viserys’s. Manfrey and his Summer Islander wife Bellegara Otherys finally finish up their romantic walk up and down the shore, with Bellegara joining Mellario and Ellaria’s whisper pile and Manfrey pulling Doran away to talk drunken business. Something about making a fleet of ships to rival Nymeria’s, and selling sweetwine to Sothoryos in exchange for coconut and date liquor. Elia giggles and can’t stop. Not with the sun so warm on her skin, not with Rhaella raising her goblet and toasting the coming summer.

It’s still winter north of the Red Mountains, but not here. No, summer is here for Dorne, and it is here to stay.

The children shriek with laughter as the waves roll against their legs. The sweet sound melds with the crashing of the sea, of Mellario and Ellaria gossiping about their beloveds, of Rhaella sighing and relaxing for once. All is bright and golden and warm, save for their ice-cold goblets of sangria. Elia tilts her head back against her chair and smiles.

Let those bastards keep that ugly ass throne, she has all she needs right here.

[mishasminion360]

Space Age Love Song, Ch. 1

A Mandalorian x O/C Fic

Warning: Language

Notes: I’ve had this idea for awhile now and decided “why the hell not?” It’s been quite some time since I’ve written a full fledged fic, but I’m going to try to remain committed and complete this one. I already have a good idea of where I want it to go, so that’s a plus. Readers, you’re in for plenty of Mando romance, fluff, angst, action, and suspense. I hope you enjoy!

He crashed into her life like a falling star. The brightest star in the cosmos.

Ch. 1: Crash Into Me

The world was always a lonelier place at night. Rural Kansas appeared much more desolate in the dark; the roads and the land seemed to stretch on forever, both leading to nothing. The whistling of the evening breeze was the only voice to be heard for miles.

A half-drunk glass of whiskey in hand, Sara craned her head skyward to gaze at the stars. At most times, it seemed, they were her only friends. At least there were plenty of them to go around.

Her shift at the Hillsboro Community Hospital had been a grueling one this evening. She had just managed to drag her weary bones home a little more than an hour ago and already the night was creeping into day. Though exhausted, she’d suddenly found herself wired the second she’d pulled into her driveway at nearly 3 a.m. Now coming up on 4 in the morning, she downed the rest of her whiskey in hopes of calming herself long enough to drop into dreamland.

She had no reason to be awake so late, or early, rather. Sara had no one to pass the wakefulness with. The last of the only family she’d ever known had vanished from her life nearly a decade ago, leaving her with nothing but an old country house in the middle of nowhere that was far too big for a solitary woman such as herself. That house and memories.

There shouldn’t be any joy in the thought of coming home to an empty house. No happiness at the thought of eating alone, sleeping alone, living alone. But, as it began to happen more frequently, Sara came to realize that this rush of adrenaline she felt upon returning to her solitary homestead night after night was from the hope that she wouldn’t be lonely for long. One night she’d come home and there’d be someone worth coming home to. Someone waiting for her.

For now, though, Sara pulled herself to her feet, blinked the stars from her eyes, and prepared to head inside where she’d climb the stairs to her room and finally sleep the sleep of the dead.

She had just yanked open the finicky screen door when she heard a peculiar thoom! Her tired eyes returned to the sky to see that it was ablaze with light. A star, like a white hot ember, arced through the night, tumbling, tumbling down. So bright. So fast. So BIG.

That is not a star, she thought.

Sara watched the object’s decent with her heart in her throat. What if it was a meteor? Or a guided missile gone astray? Should she take cover? Would there be enough time? Would it even matter? The time she could’ve spent moving was lost to an endless string of “what if’s” playing on a loop inside her head, and by the time her brain managed to squeeze a logical thought about running into the mix, the object was crashing to earth in the field behind her barn.

She felt the impact from her porch; wobbled unsteadily on her feet as a tremor passed through the ground below. She could see the glow of flames in the distance. With the threat of a wildfire from space igniting the field beyond, with her house and all its memories in danger, she sprang into action.

Sara darted inside and made a beeline for the kitchen, retrieving the fire extinguisher from under the sink. Then, opting to take the back door, she darted back out into the chilly pre-dawn and ran as fast as her legs would carry her toward what she could only assume was Fox Mulder’s wet dream.

***

So, it definitely wasn’t a star. It wasn’t a meteor or a missile either. Nothing in her wildest dreams could have prepared her for what she was seeing. It was in pieces and it was on fire, but even partially destroyed Sara could positively identify (having watched enough cheesy sci-fi movies with her gramps to do so) an alien ship when she saw one.

“What kind of Superman origin story bullshit is this?” she wondered out loud.

The flames licking at the wreckage weren’t too big, and the small extinguisher did the trick for the most part. The dented silver exterior was still smoldering in some places by the time the canister was empty. Tossing the empty red cylinder aside, she stood and stared at the UFO in a mix of wonder and fear as another round of incessant questions bombarded her brain. Should she call someone about this? Who the hell was she supposed to call anyway: the cops, a scientist, the news, or all of the above?

With a startling groan of metal and a hiss of pressurized air, a large door at the rear of the ship (or was it the front? She had no fucking clue) descended, assuming a new role as a ramp, or so it appeared. It was almost as if the ship were inviting her inside.

Sara took a moment to peer into the vessel’s dark innards, then shook her head. She’d seen enough Ridley Scott movies to know that going inside was a terrible idea. Blindly investigating a mysterious extraterrestrial ship is how people ended up dead or, at the very least, pregnant with an alien baby. She wanted no part in either one of those scenarios if she could help it.

The rationalist inside of Sara urged her not to take another step farther; practically shouted at her to turn around and run the other way. But the nurse in her wouldn’t, couldn’t allow her to abandon someone who might be aboard and may be hurt, human or...otherwise. Damn. Sometimes she felt like she’d chosen the wrong profession.

Taking a cautious step up onto the ramp, jumping a bit at the echoing of her own footsteps, Sara called out to the darkness.

“Hello? Is anyone in there?”

When she got only silence for a response, she decided to forge on ahead into the belly of the great metal beast.

“Okay, I’m coming in so please just...don’t eat me and keep your tentacles to yourself.”

The cavernous ship was as black as night. In the distance she could see lights blinking, like stars in the night guiding her way. Sara felt along the walls blindly and inched forward with small, cautious steps.

“If anyone is in here be warned. I do not like surprises and, so help me, if you jump out at me here in the dark I will punch first and ask questions later.”

As she drew closer to the flashing lights, she began to hear noise. What sounded like about five different alarms were blaring, but still nothing resembling a voice.

Suddenly, the floor seemed to rise by a foot and she stumbled at the sudden change in elevation. Her arms flailed dramatically as she desperately reached for something, anything to grab onto. Sara hit the ground hard and loud, her cry of surprise cut short as her head thumped against the cold floor.

Disoriented from the blow, she looked up and took in her surroundings with blurred vision. The alarms screamed at her from every direction, which was doing absolutely nothing to help her gradually building headache, and the lights blinked furiously in sync with the shrieking sirens. She could make out other objects now, what looked like buttons and knobs and levers and screens all illuminated by the incessant flashing of the warning lights. Damn her shit luck. Alone on this alien ship and she’d managed to stumble (literally) into the freaking cockpit. But where was the pilot?

Okay, maybe whatever had been flying this saucer never heard her, had no idea she was here. Maybe it was an unmanned craft. There was still a chance she’d make it out of this incredibly foolhardy endeavor alive. Stiffly and carefully Sara rolled onto her back, glanced up, and immediately screamed.

A face, or at least what she assumed was a face, more like a mask of some sort, peered down at her from above. Stifling another cry, she scrambled up to a sitting position and shinnied away until she felt her back hit wall. Even with that outburst, the creature didn’t appear to stir. After a few minutes of heavy breathing and vigilant observation, it didn’t appear that the alien was conscious.

Before she even realized she was doing it, Sara was on her hands and knees, creeping closer to where the sleeping being was collapsed heavily in what she figured to be the captain’s chair. Upon closer inspection, it looked more like a man than a monster. A man (or a woman) encased from head to toe in a suit of shimmering silver armor. Hell, it could have been a robot.

Through the small t-shaped visor in the dome-like helmet Sara could see no traces of a face. She had no definitive way of knowing if the spaceman was truly slumbering or just waiting for her to get close enough to grab, and for a moment she hesitated to move any closer. But when she saw the small trickle of blood leaking from beneath the helmet and onto the right pauldron, her fear instantly vanished. Definitely not a robot; a living, bleeding person. RN powers activate!

“Hey! Hey, can you hear me?” Sara gave the shiny helmet a light tap, trying to conjure a response. “Come on spaceman, spacewoman, are you with me? Wake up!”

His or her head rolled limply to the side as the blood continued to run. Unconsciousness following a vehicular (or spacecraftular) crash was never a good sign, but Sara couldn’t know for certain until she saw the source of the blood how bad the damage was. Gripping the helmet between her sweating palms she began to slide it upward carefully. Before she could even get it past the wearer’s chin, a hand reached up and wrapped around her wrist, stopping her instantly. She flinched, in surprise rather than pain; their grip was unexpectedly gentle.

“Don’t-don’t take it off,” a very male voice stammered weakly. “You can’t...”

Sara was momentarily stunned. The alien spoke perfect English, and in a voice as soft as their grasp. She shook her head to reorganize her thoughts. This situation called for the utmost professionalism. When you’re a nurse, first impressions are everything. And she wasn’t representing just herself at this moment, but potentially the entire human race.

“Sir, I...it’s going to be alright, sir. I’m a nurse. I can help you, but I’ll need to assess the injury. I need to remove your helmet in order to-“

“Please...”

Sara had entered this ship expecting to find a monster ready to frighten her. What she’d never anticipated was that the monster could be just as frightened as she was. And that’s what she heard in the spaceman’s voice: fear. He was scared. Of her. And that’s when any remaining trace of her own fear vanished. She reached down and found one of his gloved hands and squeezed it gently in her own.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be alright. I’m going to help you. You’re safe.” With her other hand she caressed one side of his helmet and tried to imagine that she were stroking his own cheek. “You’re safe.”

He seemed to relax a bit under her touch, but that may have been from the second wave of sleep overtaking him. Sara released his hand, took a step back, took a deep breath, and began mentally preparing herself for the task ahead.

Dragging a snoozing spaceman all the way to the house was not going to be an easy task, but it was one that had to be done. As a nurse, she’d be damned if she’d let a patient, even an extraterrestrial one, die on her watch.

Sara slid her arms around the limp man’s chest and began the first chore: hoisting him out of the chair.

“Welcome to Earth.”