#one doesn’t make sense without the other

[sickslimez]

STILL IN LOVE! #5 — TOJI FUSHIGURO

SYNOPSIS...after still messing around with your ex husband, you began to wonder if you’re still in love with him after finding out about his new girlfriend…

INFO...ex husband!toji x fem!reader, reader & toji have two kids, megumi is readers bio son, jealousy, smut, angst, arguments, alcohol, drinking problem, family problems, arguing in front of kids, toxic behaviors, crying, mentions of divorce

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

It’s been an entire month since your argument with Toji. Neither of you had said a word to each other, not even when he comes to pick up or drop off the kids. He keeps his distance, not bothering to wait by the door with them, instead he waits on the sidewalk and waved goodbye to them when you open the door. It seems like the kids haven’t took notice of the hostility between you and your ex husband and you wanted to keep it that way. You didn’t want them to witness anymore than they already have. Occasionally, Naya asks if she can go over Toji’s more often, growing an attachment to her father, but you always have to explain to her that he’s busy working during the week. It breaks your heart knowing that your children aren’t growing up with a fully family. You know deep down, they question why they have to go back and forth between houses just to see their father, or wondering why their mommy and daddy aren’t together like the other kids. But knowing how young they are, they wouldn’t understand a single thing. Hopefully when they’re older, they’ll learn from the mistakes you and Toji have made.

You and Nanami have been going strong recently, finding that he makes you forget about the hardships in your life. He hasn’t met the kids yet, which you don’t plan on letting happen anytime soon. He’s a nice guy, great intentions, but you want to take things slow before overstepping your own boundaries. He has took you out on two more dates ever since the first one, and each time he impresses you more and more. It feels like you can be open with him, comfortable without getting judged. He’s also a great listener, not saying a word and just letting you vent all of your feelings out until you feel better. He puts a smile on your face when he knows you’re feeling down or thinking about something that stresses you out. And most of all, he doesn’t mention what happened that morning when Toji showed up at your house. You know he heard most of everything and it was embarrassing to say the least. Toji embarrassed you.

“Mommy, can I go see daddy?” You daughter tapped your leg as you were cutting up her and megumi some fruit to snack on.

You looked down at her with a soft smile. “Tomorrow, baby. You’re gonna see him tomorrow.” You popped a raspberry in her mouth, her favorite fruit.

“Dad’s been drinking a lot.” Megumi walked into the kitchen, stealing a piece of pineapple off of the cutting board.

“What do you mean?” You immediately question, placing the knife down.

“Beer. He gets uncle Gojo to buy it for him and drinks a whole bunch,” he explained. Your lips pursed together, inhaling deeply before you let out a frustrated sigh. You shook your head in disappointment, trying not to show the anger flowing through you right now.

“So can we go see him? I’m worried!” You daughter batted her eyelashes at you, a small frown on her face. No wonder she’s been asking to see Toji so much, it all makes sense now.

“How about you guys call him to say goodnight, mommy isn’t driving right now. Plus, it’s late.” You picked up the knife, cutting more pineapple into smaller chunks.

“Please! Please! Please, mommy!” You daughter grabbed onto the hem of your shirt, nearly ripping it off of you with the way she was begging.

“Naya, cut it out! Mom said no!” Megumi slightly raised his voice, an annoyed look on his face.

“I wasn’t asking you, dummy!” Her brows furrowed in anger, her gaze now on her brothers.

“Shut up, idiot!” Megumi shouted back.

“Aye! Cut the shit!” You warned, sharing looks between both of them. Naya huffed, stomping her little feet over to the living room. “I don’t need you guys calling each other names, alright? Naya, I said no, and that means no. And Megs, stop being mean.”

“She called me it first!” He exclaimed.

“I don’t care who did it first! I don’t need y’all fighting. Naya, come here!” You shouted from the kitchen. “Eh, stay here.” You pointed at Megumi when he tried to walk away. He let out an annoyed sigh leaning against the counter. “Naya!” She turned the corner with a frown on her face, eyes watery as she looked up at you. “Baby, what’s wrong?” As soon as you asked her that question she burst into tears. Before you could even place the knife down, Megumi picked her up and held her in his arms while she cried.

“Ny-ny, what’s wrong? I’m sorry I called you an idiot, okay? I was mad, but I shouldn’t have said that,” he said softly, rubbing her back as she cried on his shoulder. The little girl hiccuped softly, wrapping her arms around her brothers neck tightly. “Do you wanna tell mommy what’s wrong?” He asked, looking at her. He brought his hand up to her face, wiping the tears.

“Da…daddy!” She sobbed, trying to catch her breath. “I wanna see…daddy!” Tears streamed down her chubby cheeks as she laid her head back on her brothers shoulder. Megumi turned to look at you, and you could see that he was also worried about his father, even if he wasn’t as vocal as it. “Mommy!” She cried.

You reached your hands out, picking her up from Megumi and holding her to your chest. “You really wanna see daddy?” You asked, wiping off her tears with your shirt. She nodded, still whimpering and sniffling. She rubbed her puffy eyes, little fists holding onto the fabric of your shirt. “Okay, we’ll go see daddy then. Megs, put your shoes on.”

You held Naya’s hand as you walked up the steps with them. She had a little smile on her face, excited to all hell to see her father. Megumi rang the doorbell, waiting patiently with you in the cold. “You excited, huh?” You chuckled, looking down at your daughter.

“Who is it?” Toji’s deep voice spoke from the other side of the door.

“Dad, it’s us!” Megumi answered. You were a little nervous to see him, knowing that this was going to be an unexpected surprise, but you had a very valid reason for showing up here. Toji unlocked the door, confusion written all over his face when he seen you and his two kids standing outside in the cold. He barely had time to register the situation before Naya ran over to him and hugged him.

“Daddy!” She yelled followed by a giggle.

“Hey, peanut!” He picked her up like she weighed nothing, sitting her on his hip and giving her a kiss on the cheek. “What’re doing here so early, huh?” He asked with a smile.

“She’s been asking about you all day…all week actually,” you spoke. “She started crying cause she missed you so much, so I brought her over here,” you explained.

Naya fiddled with her dads lip scar, as Toji stood there and stared at you for a few minutes. It’s like he almost forgot how you sounded, it’s been so long. “Well, uh, would you like to come in or are you just dropping them off?” He asked, clearing his throat.

“Yeah, I’ll come in.” The only reason you accepted was because you wanted to speak to him about his drinking problem that Megumi suddenly brought up.

“Hi, buddy.” Toji ruffled Megumi’s hair, giving him a kiss on top of his head. He closed the door behind you, your eyes immediately taking notice of the four beer cans that sat on his coffee table. A rush of disappointment came washing over you as you continued to stare at them. “Don’t mind the mess,” he awkwardly chuckled, quickly trying to clean up as he sat Naya down on the couch.

You stuffed your hands in your coat pocket, standing in the middle of the living room as he grabbed the cans and quickly took them into the kitchen. “I told you,” Megumi whispered. Toji walked back into the living room, looking at you.

“So, uh, she was crying you said?” He asked.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “she…she was like full on sobbing for you. Scared me shitless at first if I’m being honest.”

“Ny-ny, you can’t be scaring mommy like that.” Toji walked over, pinching her cheeks until she giggled. You watched the scene in front of you, seeing the smile on your daughter’s face when she was with Toji made your heart swell. “If you want, I can take them early, and come pick up their stuff tomorrow. You look…tired.”

You shrugged. “Just a little. It’s been a long week.” Toji nodded in agreement, standing back up right as all you stood there in silence while the two kids watched whatever was on the tv. “Toji, can I speak with you?”

“Yeah, yeah, what’s up?” He asked.

“In private.” You stared at him.

“Um, yeah. Megs, Ny, stay here, okay? Watch whatever you wanna watch.” He smiled at them.

“Megs, can we watch The Incredibles again?” Naya clung to her brothers arm as he grabbed the remote.

You followed Toji down the hallway to his bedroom. “How have you been?” You asked, shutting the door behind you.

“Me? I’ve been fine. How are you?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. Your eyes were locked onto him as you stood there by the door. Toji had a confused expression on his face. “Something wrong?”

“How have you been, Toji?” This time you asked with more sternly, clenching your jaw.

“I don’t get…I don’t get it.” He looked around the room as if he was being pranked, awkwardly rubbing his hands on his thighs.

“Megs told me about your drinking problem. You got Gojo going out and buying beer for you all the time? Getting drunk when the kids are here?! I can smell it on your breath!” You yelled in a whisper, folding your arms across your chest.

“I only drink enough to get tipsy, okay? I wouldn’t get drunk around the kids, y/n,” he sighed, holding his head in his hands.

You scoff, “like that makes it any better. Naya keeps asking about you because she’s worried, crying her eyes out because of it, because she misses you. Megumi doesn’t say a word about how he feels, but I can tell he’s scared, Toji. You had four beers on the fucking coffee table when I walked in!” You exclaimed, eyebrows raised.

“I know,” he sighed. “I’m sorry. I just…I’m dealing with shit, y/n.” He rested his elbows on his knees, looking down at the floor.

“We are all dealing with shit, Toji, but you gotta be there for our kids! I’m not here to argue with you, okay? I just want to know what is going on. The kids want to know what’s going on.” You looked at him with concern as he avoided your gaze completely, head still hung low.

“I can’t say it.” Toji looked up, finally locking eyes with you.

“Why?” You asked.

“Because it won’t matter, y/n. I’ve made mistakes, and I’m dealing with them. That’s all there is to it.” He bit the inside of his cheek, closing his eyes.

Your expression softened. There was no need for Toji to explain what he was talking about because you already knew. He was talking about you guys, your relationship, your marriage, your family. “It wasn’t just you, Toji,” you spoke softly. “It was me too. We grew apart. It happens.”

He shook his head. “You were only acting that way because of how I was treating you. It’s not your fault so don’t say it was, please. I’m the one who fucked it up. Back then I fucked it up, and now I’m fucking it up. Every time I got something good going on I find a way to ruin it.”

“Toji…” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

He stood up from his spot on the bed and walked towards you, his muscular and tall frame trapping you against the door. “I’m sorry. I miss you, I miss what we had, mama. You gotta understand me.” He cupped your face in his hands.

“No, no, don’t do that.” You shook your head, removing his hands from you.

“Do what, mama?” He asked softly.

“That, Toji.” You kept shaking your head at him. “I can’t. We can’t.”

“Why not? Hm?” He tried to catch your eye.

“I’m with someone else,” you bluntly said. Your heart was beating loudly in your chest, almost deafening in your ears as you stood there against the door. There was nothing but silence from Toji. He took a step back from you.

“Is it him?” Toji asked. All you did was nod. He scoffed. “So y’all are really together?”

“Yeah, we are,” you answered. “He treats me good, makes me happy.”

“So you don’t love me anymore?” Toji questioned.

“I didn’t say that!” You looked at him in disbelief.

“That’s not what you said the last time we spoke to each other. What you said fucking hurt me. You hate me. You wish you never married me. Remember that?” Toji cocked his head to the side.

“I was upset, Toji.” You rolled your eyes.

“You just don’t say shit like that, y/n. Never once in our entire relationship together have I said some shit like that to you.” He stood there, waiting for you to say something, but you didn’t.

“Well, I don’t know what you want me to say! I came here because Naya was worried about you and Megumi told me about your drinking problem. That’s all I came to talk about! I didn’t come to talk about what we had going on, okay? So just fucking drop it. I’m happier, I’m better. I’m getting treated the way I deserve to be treated for the first time in my life." You snapped.

“For the first time in your life? Are you hearing how you sound right now? I know I wasnt perfect, but I did everything I could to make you happy. Yes, there were some things I could’ve done better, but I loved you like you were supposed to be loved. Why else would I marry you?” Toji walked towards you again.

“Then you should’ve showed that love. Just know I’ll be better without you.” You opened the bedroom door, walking down the hallway.

“Y/n!” Toji shouted. He followed after you as you ignored him. “Y/n!” He shouted again.

“Stop following me, Toji! I’m leaving!” You screamed.

Megumi and Naya looked over at both of you, seeing you two yelling. “I’m not done talking to you!” Toji grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.

“Well, I am!” You snatched your arm back from him.

“Stop it!” Megumi yelled, covering his little sisters ears.

You and Toji looked over at the kids sitting on the couch, Naya’s eyes watery, lip wobbly as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Megumi shared looks between both of you, concern and fear written on his face. “Come on, let’s go back home. You’ll see daddy tomorrow.”

“I wanna stay!” Naya pouted.

“Naya, please, get in the car.” You sighed in frustration, grabbing her hand.

“No! No!” She started screaming, dropping to the floor and kicking around, throwing a tantrum.

“Get up, Naya! I’m not gonna ask you again!” You lifted her off of the floor, grabbing her hand again. She pulled away from you, running over to Toji, hugging his legs.

“Fine. Fine. Stay with your father. I’ll see both of you in a few days. I love you.” You grabbed your keys from your coat pocket, walking to the front door, slamming it shut behind you.

“Come here, baby girl.” Toji picked his daughter up.

“You two always fight! I hate it!” Megumi stormed out of the living room and into his bedroom, slamming the door behind him, making Naya jump. Toji stood there in the living room with his daughter, a lump forming in his throat. He let out a choked sob, immediately hiding his face from his daughter.

“Daddy, don’t cry.” She wiped his tears away.

“I’m sorry, baby girl.” He sniffled. Your family was falling apart right in front of Toji’s eyes. Megumi is looking for a way out of this family at such a young age, indulging in video games and tv to drown out the real problems. Naya conflicted with her feelings, crying constantly because of the state both of you were in, affecting her. Nothing is like it was before. Toji hated this was happening. This is was last thing he ever wanted.

You sat in your car outside of his house, wiping your tears from how overwhelmed you were. You were at a loss on how to fix this. Each time you tried, it ended the same. You were fearful it was going to keep getting worse, worse until there was no way to reverse the damage done.

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[turbulentscrawl]

Social Dynamics in the Manor

I did this for funsies

Leaders

Eli- The peacekeeper. He’s invested in the happiness of all the manor’s inhabitants, and often steps in (uninvited) to mediate issues between them. Secretly, he likes the attention and fulfillment that being needed gives him.

Luchino- One of the more passive “leaders.” He’s of the opinion that most inter-personal issues will sort themselves out with or without his interference, as nature often does. He gives his opinion on things freely, but doesn’t step in with force unless it’s critical.

Orpheus- A wolf in sheep’s clothing, Orpheus plays the role of a Follower to get a more personal understanding of the others. He prefers to lead from behind the scenes, controlling situations through careful leaking of information, or a specified figurehead.

Emily- A natural mother figure, Emily is sought out for comfort and advice as often as she is healing. Her rapport is especially strong with the other women of the manor.

Ada- A bit of a gaslighter, to be honest. Ada is good at convincing people they want the same things she does, be it through words or hypnosis. Her ability to read people is of strong use. She’s a bit more passive, however, and is less likely to see a need to step in for situations that don’t impact Emil.

Alva- Not a natural-born leader by any means, but his previous role in education has made him an experienced one. Alva is perhaps a bit too calm, a bit too slow to react as a leader, but he is nothing if not level-headed and calculating.

Kiegan- She’s been cold-shouldered for too long, and is not willing to be ignored anymore in life. Kiegan takes charge every time she sees an opening.

Phillipe- Has a strong sense of justice, and will always speak up for whatever he views as morally correct (though it should be noted that his morals are warped and prejudiced, and someone other than him is always at fault.) He can be even more pushy than Kiegan, when his heart burns with enough passion for something.

Followers

Andrew- Likes to think he’s a Lone Wolf, but he often feels directionless.

Luca- Will point a horse towards water, but not lead it or try forcing it to drink.

Freddy- Fancies himself a leader, but for all his intelligence and scheming he’s not well-liked enough to have followers. Also, his plans tend to be too…sacrificing.

Florian- As long as he gets his ten seconds of fame every once in a while, he's fine with whatever the atmosphere ends up being. ironically, he occasionally sides with Freddy, just because that man's "strategies" can be such dumpster-fires that it would be easy for Florian to save the day.

Kreacher, Emma, Lucky Guy, Willaim, Helena, Vera, Kevin, Margaretha, Patricia, Murro, Jose, Mike, Demi, Victor, Edgar, Ganji, Anne, Emil, Memory, Joker, Frederick, Lily, Violetta, Smiley ,Leo, Michiko, Wu Chang, Ann, Antonio, Ithaqua, Sangria, Grace

Lone Wolves

Aesop- Sometimes acts as a follower, but he doesn’t usually feel invested in the various issues and drama that comes up.

Norton- Is willing to follow when a situation calls for group cooperation, but he trusts his own judgment over that of most others in the manor.

Naib- Experience has taught him to fend for himself. He looks out for his allies, of course, but a group-mentality is sometimes detrimental to survival.

Alice- She behaves like a Follower for the sake of blending in, but Alice spends every unwatched moment she gets with her own goals and curiosities in the forefront of her mind.

Melly- Solitary and private. Melly makes truces, not allies.

Qi- Believes some emotional distance is the key for maintaining a clear head and fair judgement.

Matthias- A recluse for safety’s sake. He partners more closely with a select view, but does not like to call into crowds.

Jack- Only cares about satiating his own desires, and not the manor’s socio-politics.

Bane- A recluse for his own safety. He’s content with being left alone for the rest of eternity.

Hatsur- He speaks for and enforces the decrees of the Baron, but otherwise doesn’t care for the affairs of the other Hunters and Survivors.

Joseph- What’s the point in trying to obtain peace in hell? At least suffering, he thinks, would sometimes be more interesting.

Burke- He’s only concerned with his inventions, his work, and he picks sides and solutions according to what lets him get back to things the most quickly.

Fool’s Gold- Doesn’t care about anyone else’s problems. He barely cares about his own some days.

[bqstqnbruin]

Forget About Us

Hello this is my first fic in like almost 6 months inspired by Forget About Us by Perrie Edwards

Thanks to my loves @nicohischier @assmanselke and @matthewtkachuk for yelling at me and letting me yell about this fic :)

Summary: Carson meets Jack, Jack falls for Carson, Carson does what she wants.

Word count: 7.4k

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, aNGST

Flashbacks are in italics. Also, I swear I read through this more than once but there might be errors unintentionally 😬

_________________________________________

Looking up into the stands, every game he plays in this city, he’s looking for her. He had been doing it for the past few years, always expecting to see her.

___________________________

“Can you stop pouting? We’re going to go out after the game,” Morgan begs. 

“I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to be here or anywhere else besides my bed.” 

Morgan rolls her eyes, sitting down in her seat. “Carson, you never go out.”

“Because I never want to go out,” she repeats. “I don’t have the money to go out.” 

“The tickets were free from my job and I told you I would pay for your drinks tonight.” 

“I don’t feel good,” Carson whines, knowing that it still wouldn’t be enough. 

“You’re fine.”

“I’m on my period.”

“So am I, what’s your point?”

“Your period doesn’t make you double over in pain for three days.”

“This is the fourth day of your period when you have told me you always feel fine. And your period has been regular since you were fifteen when you went on birth control.”

“I don’t like that you know that.”

“Then maybe don’t tell me the same thing like a broken record every month?” Carson continues to pout, even though her friend is right. “Do you really not want to be here? We can leave after the first period if you really aren’t having fun. But, you do keep telling me you’ve been wanting to come to a game since we moved here.”

“No,” she drags out. “I just had a bad day at work.”

“What happened?”

The teams start coming out onto the ice for warm-ups, everyone booing the away team. It made no sense. They weren’t even actual rivals. The other team, from Carson’s understanding, was so inconsequential that they shouldn’t even matter. But who was she to argue? 

“Anthony came by work today.” 

“Anthony? Like Anthony, your ex, Anthony?”

“No, Anthony Michael Hall from The Breakfast Club.”

“What did he say?”

She and Morgan had this same conversation every week. “He wants to get back together.”

“And you told him, ‘no,’ right?”

“I’m grumpy, not stupid.” 

Morgan sighs. Anthony kept showing up at the cafe Carson worked at between classes to ask for her back for the last month. He didn’t seem to care about the fact that they wanted wildly different things in their lives and that they weren’t going to work. Carson wanted to get her JD and leave New Jersey for good. She was tired of the debate over whether or not the central part of the state existed, if it was called Taylor Ham or Pork Roll, and which beach down the shore was the best. She wanted out as soon as possible, and Anthony wanted to stay here and settle down. He wanted someone who wanted to be at home with the kids, which Carson really didn’t want. The only way she could think about staying in New Jersey was if her partner wanted everything else she wanted. Whoever she ended up with had to be everything else to her. Anthony wasn’t it.

Morgan slowly forms a smile on her face, one that immediately makes Carson panic. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

“Who said I’m going to do something that you’ll hate?”

“Every past action that you’ve done without talking to me about it first says you’re going to do something I’m going to end up hating.” 

Morgan rolls her eyes, pulling out her wallet and handing Carson her debit card. “Here, you go get us beer and pizza so that way you don’t have to see what I’m about to do.” Carson sits there, Morgan shoving the card into her hands. “Go.” 

Both of them get up from their seats, Carson feeling a sense of panic as she watches her roommate go down to the ice while typing furiously on her phone. Carson tries to get back to their seats as fast as she can, worried about what antics she was about to be dragged into. She wanted to be home early that night so she could start studying for one of her exams that week. She did not have time to do whatever it was that Morgan was planning to do. 

“Here,” Morgan hands her something as she sits back down, Carson still trying to figure out how to balance two overflowing drinks and two slices of pizza larger than her own head. “I got this for you.”

“You got me a puck?” 

“Yes.”

“Ok?”

“You could say thank you.”

“Thank you for a piece of rubber that could probably break a bone if you get hit with it hard enough.”

“You’ll get the rest of what I got you tonight.”

“I swear to god,” Carson starts. “I’m not god, but I am close to a goddess.”

Carson groans, trying to focus on anything other than the terror that she was sure was about to come to her tonight. One of the players kept looking up at her, over his shoulder and seemingly ignoring his teammates. “What did you do?”

Morgan shrugs, nudging Carson’s shoulder as she waves at the player. “His name is Jack.”

“Just because I’m studying law, that doesn’t mean I’m above breaking at least one of them.” 

“Yes, it does.” 

The game starts, Carson’s eyes staying on the one player who had been watching her before. He gave her the vibes of someone who would end up naked and drunk in the hallway of her dorm in college, passed out and unsure of where his pants or keys were. 

“He’s cute, isn’t he?” Morgan asks once the second period starts. 

Carson doesn’t make a noise, just nodding. He was the exact type of mistake she would make on a night out when she needed to forget about something. “Why does he keep staring?”

“Probably for the same reason you’re staring at him even if you do look like you want to kill him.” Carson turns to glare at Morgan. “I’m just saying, you might be hot, but you also look like you could commit a felony right now.” 

Carson sighs, waiting for the end of the game. She had no idea what was going on, but Morgan seemed to be into it at least. 

Carson lets out a yawn as the fans start to file out of the arena, Morgan dragging her along behind her. “Can we please just go home?” 

“No, I have a surprise for you.”

“Last time you had a surprise for me, I ended up needing three of my tires replaced.”

“And they gave you the fourth one for free, anyway,” Morgan grabs Carson’s hand, pulling her in the direction of some bar she wouldn’t remember the name of in the morning.

Carson knew that no matter how much she complained to Morgan, her friend would have something to counter every whine. They had lived together all four years of college before finally somehow scraping together enough money to each get their own places, despite the fact that they were still neighbors in their apartment building. Morgan, unfortunately, could get Carson to do anything she asked her to since she knew exactly how to make it so Carson wouldn’t say no. Most of the time, it involved physically dragging Carson places, like she was doing right now, but it always somehow worked.

“I’m paying for drinks,” Morgan tells her, dropping Carson’s hand as they two walk into the unreasonably crowded and slightly smelly bar. 

“Yeah, like that was in question,” Carson tells her. 

“You go sit down, I’ll find you.” 

Morgan leaves Carson alone. The scene around her made her want to run away, except for the fact that Morgan could track her location and would not be above chasing her down the street and dragging her back to the bar. Everyone seemed like they were five drinks in, Carson feeling anxious about being what seemed to be the only sober person around. 

“You ok?” a voice comes behind her, snapping her out of her potential spiral. She turns around, the guy from the game standing in front of her. 

“This isn’t real,” she mutters, shaking her head. How the hell did Morgan manage this? 

“What?” the guy asks, understandably confused.

“Sorry,” Carson says. “I mean, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.” 

“I’m dehydrated.”

“Can I get you water, then?”

“No.”

“But, wouldn’t that help with the dehydration thing?”

Carson stares at him, dumbfounded. “I can get water myself,” she says, her tone a little harsher than she intended it to be. 

“I’m Jack,” he introduces himself, not getting the message at all. 

“That’s nice.” 

“Do you have a name?”

“No, that spot on my birth certificate has been blank for the last twenty four years. Everyone calls me whatever nickname they can think of. The current one is ‘Maverick.’” 

Jack opens his mouth to say something, Morgan appearing in between them before he can get a word in. “You actually came!”

“How could I pass up coming to meet someone as sweet as your friend here after the game?”

Carson barely knew him, but she already knew he would be a thorne in her side. 

“She’s already been mean to you, hasn’t she?” Morgan laughs, finally handing Carson the drink she got for her. 

“Hey,” Carson tries to protest, despite both of them ignoring her. 

“It’s fine. It’s kinda hot,” he smirks, staring at Carson. She didn’t care that she couldn’t help but stare back, her cheeks bright red at his words.

___________________________

She always sat in the same general area, a few rows from the top of the section right behind their bench. It was easy to find her. How could he not at least try?

___________________________

“Why are you anxious?” Morgan asks, plopping down on Carson’s couch.

“Who said I was anxious?”

“You’re scrunchie.”

“What could that possibly mean?”

“You’re scrunching your brow so much and frowning so hard that you have wifi symbols showing on your face. You only do that when you’re anxious.” 

“Please don’t say that to me ever again.” Carson lets out a sigh. She shouldn’t be anxious. She’s done things that were so much more difficult than this. She graduated with a 4.0 GPA in high school and college. She participated in every possible extra curricular that she could, and did so perfectly. She had her life scheduled down to the minute, when she would study, eat, have free time. She didn’t have time to be anxious. “Jack is supposed to be here any minute.”

Morgan lets out a squeal so high that Carson covers her ears. “You’re finally going on a date with him?” 

“If you want to call it that.” 

“Tell me everything,” Morgan says, plopping herself at Carson’s feet.

“No.” 

“Carson,” Morgan whines.

“Morgan,” Carson counters. “I don’t even know where we’re going. From what it sounds like, it’s not even going to be just us, it’s something with the team.”

“He’s taking you to meet the rest of his team?” she yells. 

“If you get that loud again, I’m throwing you out the window.”

“We both know your window doesn’t open far enough for me to get out of it, we’ve tried. Anyway,” Morgan continues, ignoring Carson’s annoyance, as usual. “That means something if he already wants you to know his teammates.”

“It means he already had plans with them when he asked me to go out with him and is dragging me somewhere I wasn’t otherwise invited.” 

“You could be positive sometimes, you know.”

“There’s no fun in that.” 

“Carse,” Morgan says, “He wouldn’t be inviting you if he didn’t like you. He wouldn’t have been texting you every waking moment that he could if he didn’t like you.” 

“It’s kind of annoying.” 

“That’s because you are a black hole personified and he’s the human equivalent of a dumb puppy.” 

Carson scrunches her face while she looks at her friend. “That’s mean.” 

“I’m trying to say that you two are different. And that’s ok. He’s more extroverted than you are. You’re still going to have fun because you’re going to be with him.” Carson looks at her, unsure. “If you’re not fine, I have your location and I will come join you guys, or come pick you up.” 

“Why am I nervous?”

“Probably because this is the first guy you’re going out with that doesn’t look like a dead baby bird.”

“Sometimes, inside thoughts can stay inside.” 

“My point,” Morgan starts, pulling Carson up to lead her out the door, “Is that he’s not your normal type and you don’t know what to do, so you’re panicking. But, again, you’ll be fine.”

Before Carson could say anything else, a knock came from the other side of her door. Morgan opens it, Jack standing there with his hands in his jeans pocket. 

“Wow,” Morgan verbalizes what Carson was thinking as she tries not to ogle at Jack. His jeans fit him way more perfectly than she would have liked, the t-shirt he had on showing off his arms in a way that made her feel like she was actually about to start drooling. For fucks sake.

“I think Carson is supposed to say that,” Jack jokes, leaning against the door frame. 

“Jesus Christ,” Carson groans, Morgan laughing as she pushes her way past Jack to head back to her place.

“Actually, they call me Jack.” 

“If you keep this up all night, I’m not leaving this apartment.”

“Is this your way of asking me to come in?”

“Absolutely not. We’re going now to meet your friends or you’re going by yourself.” 

Carson didn’t see Jack physically swoon at Carson as she walked past him, a stupid grin on his face as he watched her walk away from him. 

___________________________

Morgan was sitting next to her, the two of them seeing less of each other now that they didn’t live with or next to each other anymore. Carson was laughing at something Morgan was telling her, the smile on her face reaching her eyes. 

___________________________

“What are you doing right now?”

Carson groaned, knowing that any time Jack was asking her to do something lately, it was to pull her away from something she actually had to get done. “Studying.”

“When’s the test?”

“Next week.”

“Come out with me.”

“No.”

“I’m picking you up, I’m turning onto your street now.”

Jack hangs up before Carson can protest, her immediately texting Morgan to tell her she was being kidnapped.

‘You aren’t being kidnapped, you aren’t a kid.’

‘Kidnapping is anytime a person’s liberty is restrained by force and taken to another location.’

Before Morgan could text back, Jack was knocking at her door.

“I’m not going.” 

“Come on. Half an hour?” he begs her. Carson glares at him. “I’ll buy ice cream.”

“I’m lactose intolerant.”

“Says that three cheese pizza you downed the other night.” Carson continues to glare at him. “Please? I’m leaving tomorrow for a week and a half. It’ll be the last time I can bother you until then.”

Carson rolls her eyes, shutting her textbook with her highlighter keeping her page like a bookmark. “I’m studying in the car.” Jack smiles at her, holding his hand out for her. Carson smirks, grabbing another book from her table and putting it in his hands instead. 

Jack runs to follow her, his free hand on the small of her back, a smile on his face as she didn’t fight it. They get in his car, the windows down and the radio blasting as he peels away from where he was parked. 

Jack starts talking, Carson not listening in the slightest as she continues to read the book in her lap, just like she promised. 

“Wait, shut up,” Carson finally says, reaching over to turn up the music that was already loud. “I love this song.”

Jack laughs, glancing at her as he pulls up to a stop light. “Seriously? 1985 by Bowling for Soup?”

“My childhood best friend and I would listen to this song all the time growing up,” Carson explains,the smile on her face something Jack rarely got to see but loved every time. Jack’s smile mirrored hers as she started to sing along. He couldn’t help but laugh again as he listened to her. “What?”

“You are a horrible singer.”

“Yeah, because you would be better,” she snides, looking back at her book.

“Oh, of course I would be,” he says, starting to sing along with her. 

Carson cackles, a sound Jack had never heard from her before. “You are just as bad as I am.”

___________________________

He thought of her whenever that song played, his heart beating faster every time the opening guitar riff played through whatever speaker he was near. He never purposefully listened to that song. The song never played in any of the arenas they played in, except for Rogers Arena, like it was now.

___________________________

“What do you mean, ‘we’re going out tonight?’” Carson groans.

“You just finished finals, Quinn is in town, and we’re heading down the shore for the weekend.” 

“So I have to pack for a whole weekend?” 

“Unless you plan on wearing the same thing for four days, I suggest you do,” Jack says, Morgan laying on Carson’s bed laughing.

“I wish you were helpful,” Carson says, throwing a shirt at Morgan. “I’m not here to be helpful, I’m here to be comic relief.” 

“Then you should try being funny sometimes.” 

Jack laughs, his phone buzzing with a call. “I’ll be right back,” he says, getting up and answering it out of Carson’s room.

Once he was out of earshot, Morgan sits up, a giddy look on her face that caused a pit to form in Carson’s stomach. “You’re going away with him for a weekend!” Carson grimaces. “You aren’t excited?”

Carson sighs, getting up to close her door so Jack can’t hear them. “I think he wants more from whatever this is than I do.”

“What do you mean?” Morgan whispers.

“I can’t see a relationship with him.”

“Carse, he’s perfect.”

“He kind of is. Which is why I don’t see it. Anthony was perfect.”

“No, Anthony was the human equivalent of a stale ham sandwich who, if brains were money, wouldn’t have been able to buy a cup of coffee.”

“Go eat something.”

“What?”

“Your metaphors turn food related when you’re hungry.”

“My point is,” Morgan says, getting up. “Anthony is not Jack. Don’t ruin something before it starts because of something that happened with someone else.” “Hey,” Jack says, startling both of them. “Sorry, Luke was asking if we were on his way to pick him up. Are we ready to head out?” 

___________________________

He was so busy staring at her that he didn’t realize that Luke had skated up to his side.

“You didn’t know she’d be here?” Jack shakes his head. “Quinn doesn’t know you still love her?”

He shakes his head.

___________________________

Carson hated to admit it, but she was having a good time. She hated to admit that she needed to relax, especially after the intensity that she had when she was taking finals. They were sitting around a fire one of them had set up on the beach, the smell of smoke hitting Carson right in the face, the night air starting to chill around them. The guys were all laughing, their partners sitting in their laps as a few of them fell asleep. 

“Where’s Quinn?” Luke leans over Carson to ask Jack.

“You have his location,” Carson says before Jack can answer. The brothers keep anticipating Quinn with every new person that shows up, their usually prompt brother still MIA.

“I don’t know where my phone is.”

“What’s that in your left hand, bud?” 

“Right,” Luke draws out as Carson and Jack both laugh at him. “He’s supposed to be here any minute.” 

Luke gets up to head back to the house for what he claims is to use the bathroom. “He hasn’t been drunk in a while. He gets dumber as he drinks,” Jack tells her. 

Carson checks the can of beer he left behind. “Isn’t this his first drink of the night?”

“Yeah, why?”

“This can is still full.”

“He might just be dumb.” 

“Bold of you to call someone else dumb,” an unfamiliar voice comes from behind their circle around the fire. 

“I was just about to say that,” Carson says to the guy who must be Quinn, given how much he looks like his brother. 

“God, I never realized there’s two of you,” Jack says to Quinn, the color draining from his face.

“I don’t think you’d survive with two of me,” Carson says, Jack mumbling something about going to the house for a minute as he gets up, a smile on his face anyway.

“So, you must be Carson?” Quinn asks her.

“What was your first clue?” she tries to flirt, taking a sip of her drink while maintaining eye contact with him. She knew that Jack was cute, but there was something different about Quinn. She and Jack were opposites. She and Quinn were the same. 

___________________________

He still loved the way she looked in that old hoodie that she stole, the team logo faded and cut through, the number that was supposed to be the right side of her chest gone. He remembered when she stole that, the way her eyes lit up the first time he saw her in it as she told him she liked that she could wear it while he was traveling and he would still be with her. 

___________________________

“Who’s picking up Carson?” Ellen yells up the stairs. 

“I am,” Quinn and Jack both called at the same time, Jack’s mind running wild at the fact that his brother answered with him. Since meeting Quinn a few weeks ago, Carson had been mentioning him a lot more in their conversations. He shouldn’t be bothered by it. They never actually established that they were dating. Sure, they had hooked up, and sure, it was all Jack could think about since, but they were never dating.

He wasn’t Carson’s boyfriend. 

“We both are,” Jack amends, running down the stairs when he hears Quinn do the same. 

The brothers get in Quinn’s car, a smile across Quinn’s face while Jack can feel himself start to panic. “So, you’re excited to see Carson?”

“Yeah,” Quinn lets out. “I’ve missed Car.”

“Car?”

“That’s what I call her sometimes, yeah.”

“Doesn’t everyone else call her ‘Carse’ if they don’t call her Carson?”

Quinn laughs. “She said she likes when I call her ‘Car,’ instead.” Quinn keeps talking the rest of the way to the airport, both boys getting a text from her saying that she had just landed. 

Neither boy had seen Carson in weeks, but it seemed like she had been talking to Quinn much more than she had been talking to Quinn.

Quinn pulls up to the airport, both boys getting out to go find the girl they wanted to see. Jack felt like he was racing Quinn to get to her first, Quinn having no idea what was going on in Jack’s head.

They get inside, both of them looking for her. 

“Thanks for introducing us, by the way,” Quinn says, breaking the silence between them. 

“What?”

“Me and Carson. When you told me I’d love her, I didn’t realize how right you’d be.” 

Jack swallows, the pit in his stomach making him feel like he wanted to throw up. Quinn couldn’t love Carson the way Jack did.

The way Jack did?

Jack spots her first, shaking his head of the thought of loving her when he sees the Canucks sweatshirt with 43 on it hanging on her body. Jack looks at Quinn, Quinn’s favorite sweatshirt on the girl Jack wanted to be with. 

Carson spots them, a smile on her face as she runs towards them, her suitcase clumsily trailing behind her. She lets go of her suitcase, it rolling towards Jack as she runs into Quinn’s arms, acting as if Jack wasn’t there to begin with.

___________________________

Morgan says one last thing to Carson, heading back towards the concessions, probably to get them drinks. Knowing Carson, she was out with Morgan on the condition that she didn’t have to pay for drinks. Jack couldn’t help but laugh to himself, Luke giving him a strange look while he stood there, lost in thought. 

___________________________

Why would Carson want to be out right now?

She wouldn’t want to. 

So why was she out right now at a bar that was way too loud, smelled incredibly bad, and was so crowded she could barely move a muscle without hitting another person?

Morgan.

Well, and Jack.

But, mostly Morgan. 

“I hate you for this,” she yelled over whatever music was playing. 

“No, you don’t,” Morgan and Jack say at the same time, both of them laughing despite Carson sending both of them a death stare.

“You haven’t been out of your apartment in, like, two months,” Jack says as Morgan walks away to get another drink

“We went to get coffee together four times this week,” Carson rebuttes, her phone in her hand lighting up with a text from Quinn.

She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of his name, not paying attention to the clear awkwardness that Jack felt when he saw his own brother’s name on her phone. She loved texting him, talking with him every free minute the two of them had. She was falling for him, and she was falling for him fast. 

Quinn loved that she was a lawyer, that she was passionate about helping people, he respected all of her decisions when it came to her uncertainty with her future. He made her laugh, he constantly made sure that she was ok and genuinely showed he cared about her.

He was everything he wanted in a guy, except that he was on the other side of the continent. 

“What’s Vancouver like?” she asks Jack, again having to yell over the noise.

Jack shrugs, “It seems a lot like New Jersey, honestly. I’m never there long enough to find out.” 

Could she see herself in Vancouver? She had looked into it, she just had to take another exam and be approved by their judicial system and she would be ok to practice law. 

Quinn had officially asked her to be his girlfriend when she went to visit the boys a few weeks ago. She wasn’t sure if Jack knew yet.

“I’m going to get another drink, do you want anything?” she asks, elbowing her way back to the bar when he says he’s fine.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” she hears from behind her once she orders her drink. She turns around, trying not to audibly groan.

“Anthony.”

“How are you Carse?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Do I need to give more?”

“Well, it’s a genuine question.”

“‘Fine’ is a genuine answer. What do you want, Anthony?”

“When can we get back together?”

Carson scoffs, the bartender handing her her drink that she was now tempted to throw in his face. “We’re not.”

“Come on, Carse,” he says, taking a step toward her, his hand trailing down her arm. “We had so much fun together. Why do we want to throw all that away?”

“I have a boyfriend, Anthony.”

“I don’t see him.”

Before Carson could answer, she feels Jack come up behind her, thankful that it was him and not some other stranger. “Babe, I told you, I was paying for drinks tonight.”

Carson looks up at him, turning toward him so Anthony couldn’t see her mouth a quick ‘thank you,’ to him. “I put it on your tab, don’t worry,” she turns back to Anthony, the smile on her face because of the stupid look on his face. “Anthony, meet my boyfriend, Jack.”

Anthony mumbles something, walking away before either of them could say anything else. 

“I owe you,” Carson says once Anthony is far enough away neither of them could see him.

“Well, drinks are on me tonight,” he says, earning a laugh from her. “Nice job, lying about the boyfriend thing. Think we’ll have to keep it up until we leave?”

Carson laughs again. “I wasn’t lying about having a boyfriend.”

“What?” Jack asks, Carson not noticing the panic on his face.

“Quinn asked me to be his girlfriend.” 

Before Jack can respond, Morgan runs over, squealing something about how their song was playing and that they just had to go dance. Carson quickly hands her drink to Jack, running off with her friend.

Jack downs the drink, ordering another. 

His brother got the girl.

___________________________

He sees Carson waving to someone down on the ice, his heart racing in the worst way because he knew it wasn’t to him. Jack followed her gaze to Quinn, who was waving back at her, a smile on his face while he was on the ice when he was notorious for looking like he was having an existential crisis all the time. He should hate the guy who got to love the girl he wanted to be with. But how could he hate his brother? 

___________________________

“You’re what?”

“I’m moving to Vancouver.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming, too.”

“No you aren’t.”

“I can’t live without you.”

“Morgan,” Carson whines, “You’re going to be fine.”

Morgan groans, rolling her eyes. “I’m being dramatic, let me mourn.” The girls laugh, Carson getting up to grab a drink. “So, you and Quinn are actually serious?”

“Yeah, I mean, we have to be if I’m willing to move across the continent and to another country.”

“Are you going to be able to practice law?”

Before Carson can answer, a knock at her doors follows with someone walking in.

“Are you a murderer?” Morgan yells to the stranger from Carson’s kitchen, prompting Carson to roll her eyes.

“Definitely,” Jack says, appearing in the doorway. “I got us dinner,” he says, holding up a bag. “What are we talking about?”

“If Carson can practice law or not.”

Jack laughs, setting down the food. “How did you manage to get disbarred already? You passed like three months ago.” 

“I shot a man in Reno,” Carson deadpans. “I didn’t get disbarred. I’m just,” she hesitates, knowing that telling the two people who were her best friends was going to be the hardest. “I’m moving.”

Jack’s attention snaps to Carson, a look of panic on his face. “Where?”

“She’s moving in with Quinn.”

“You’re moving to Vancouver?”

“Yeah. Quinn asked me last week to move out there with him, and I told him yes today.” 

Jack didn’t hear anything else while the three of them sat at Carson’s table and ate the food Jack brought. She would be able to practice law in Canada with a few more steps to get there, she would be living with Quinn.

She would be away from Jack. 

She would never be with Jack. 

___________________________

He could see the engagement ring on her finger from here, the sapphire in the middle catching the light in just the right way. His mother had their grandmother’s engagement ring, something much more simple, that had been intended for whichever boy wanted to give it to their future partner. Jack didn’t want to give it to anyone. He knew that their grandmother’s ring was picked for their grandmother. He wanted to give his person a ring meant for them. He wanted to give a ring he knew would suit her and would make her think of him whenever she looked at it. That’s why he and Quinn had helped the jeweler design it in the first place. It had to be made for her.

___________________________

Quinn had texted in the family group chat that the ring was ready and that he was picking it up from the jeweler that day after practice.

Everyone in the family congratulated him, his mom gushing about how excited she was to have a daughter, and how happy she was that it was Carson. His dad talked about how he was glad Quinn found someone who made him happy. Luke gave a thumbs up and texted in the group chat without their parents something stupid that Jack still hadn’t read yet.

Jack said nothing.

And he wasn’t sure anyone noticed. 

Quinn and Carson were going to be engaged soon.

Jack didn’t know who to talk to, his finger hovering over Carson’s contact. He shouldn’t call her. He could call Morgan. But he knew Morgan was busy doing something with her job. He didn’t want to bother her.

He pressed it, turning on the speaker and pushing his phone away from him before he could hang up. 

“Hello?” her name comes out of his speaker. He opens his mouth to say something, realizing he had no idea where to begin. “Jack, are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry, dropped my phone,” he lied, lunging to grab it. “We haven’t talked in a while.”

Carson laughs, Jack’s insides jumping at the sound he hadn’t heard in a while. “Yeah, it has been a while.”

“How are things?” he asks, silently smacking his forehead at how stupid he sounded. He used to be able to talk to her with ease, having conversations that would go on for hours before either of them even found any silence between them. 

Now he could barely talk to her, the sound of her voice something he wanted to hear so badly, something he missed more than he could actually put into words, and he didn’t know what to say so that he could listen to her. 

“Things are actually really great,” she says. He could hear the smile on her face coming through the phone. “Quinn and I just work together, you know?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he repeats to himself, trying to hide the pain he felt hearing that. “Have you and Quinn talked about…” he starts, his voice trailing off, the words catching in his throat knowing that Quinn could technically ask her at any moment. 

“About what?”

“About you guys getting married?”

Carson stays quiet for a second, a smile on her face forming that broke Jack’s heart with every millimeter it grew. “Yeah, we have.”

“And?” 

Carson’s cheeks turned red. “He hasn’t told me outright, but I think he’s proposing soon.”

Jack’s heart fully shattered, a fake smile on his face. “That’s great.”

“He hasn’t talked to you about it at all?”

“We, uh,” he starts, running his hand through his hair as he laid down on his bed. “We haven’t been able to get each other on the phone lately.” The two of them sat in silence, one of the first times neither of them knew what to say to each other. Conversation used to be so easy between them. “Don’t do it.”

“What?” Carson asks, Jack unsure if she didn’t hear him or thought she didn’t.

“Don’t get engaged to him.” 

“Jack-”

“Carson, I still love you,” he blurts out, leaving Carson stunned. “Carson, please say something.” He wasn’t planning on telling her during this conversation. He wasn’t planning on telling her at all. 

“Still?”

“I think I started falling for you the first minute I saw you.” 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Jack swallows, trying to stop his voice from cracking. “By the time I realized it, you were already falling in love with Quinn.”

“Jack.” 

“How could I tell you I love you when I was watching you fall in love with my older brother?”

“Jack.”

“How am I supposed to sit here knowing that you’re going to spend the rest of your life with someone who is perfect for you knowing that I was so close to being that person?” he says outloud.

“What do you want me to say?” she whispers.

“Tell me you won’t do it.”

Carson squeezes her eyes shut, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I can’t.” 

“Carson.”

“Jack, I love Quinn. And he loves me. It has to go both ways. I can’t tell him ‘no’ because you feel something for me that I never felt for you.” Jack says nothing, mostly because he doesn’t know what to say. “I have to go. Quinn will be home any minute.”

Carson hangs up, without saying another word, the front door opening as she whipped away her tears. 

“Hey,” Quinn says, placing a kiss on the top of her head. “You ready to head out?”

“Uh, just give me a minute. I was talking to Jack and got distracted.”

“Yeah? How is he? I haven’t heard from him in a while.” 

“He mentioned that,” Carson nods, getting up from her chair. “I’m gonna go grab my shoes.”

Quinn watches her walk away, checking his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed for the night. 

Phone, check.

Keys, check.

Wallet, check.

Engagement ring.

Check.

___________________________

Quinn skates over to his brothers, who were still standing next to each other. The crowd starts yelling, as they normally do when the three brothers are on the same ice at the same time. Luke and Jack greet Quinn, Jack trying to pretend like he wasn’t distracted. 

“Hey, wait,” Quinn says when the two are about to skate away. Luke hangs back slightly, pretending not to listen. “Carson wants to get together after the game, all four of us.”

Jack looks at Luke. “Uh, we have a flight out tonight.”

“Luke said you guys are leaving until the morning.” 

“It got changed,” Jack lies, making a mental note to turn off his location and hope he can convince Luke to do the same. “The weather’s supposed to be too bad to fly out in the morning.”

“Come on. It’s the last time we’ll be able to get together, just the four of us, before the wedding.” 

___________________________

“Ready to go?” Luke asks, suitcase in hand as their boarding group gets called. 

“No,” Jack mumbles. 

Luke rolls his eyes, yanking Jack by the arm to pull him towards the plane. “What’s your problem with Carson?” Jack fastens his seatbelt, pretending not to hear his younger brother. “Dude.”

“I don’t have a problem with Carson.”

“Then why do you shut down and act like a prick any time we go see them, or anytime her name is mentioned?” Jack doesn’t say anything. “No, we have 6 hours on this plane, so either you are going to use that time to tell me why you have a problem with our future sister-in-law or I’m going to tell Quinn that I’m worried you’re going to Richard Ramirez her in her sleep.” 

Jack looks at his brother with a look of horror. “What the fuck? I’m not the Night Stalker.” 

“Talk,” Luke pokes his brother’s side.

“I liked Carson before she met Quinn.”

“You’re acting like this because you had a crush on her?”

“I’m acting like this because I fell in love with her and she never even thought of me that way.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Every interaction you’ve ever had with her now makes sense.”

“What?”

“Every time you talk to her, you have that look on your face like she was telling you she killed your first born.” Jack looks at him horrified, again. “Yeah, like that.”

“Stop watching CSI.” 

“There’s so many seasons.”

Luke keeps talking about something while he doesn’t realize Jack is barely paying attention, interjecting with a generic confirmatory noise every once in a while until Jack finally pretends to go to sleep. 

His brother eventually falls asleep instead, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts without his brother’s voice in his ear. He hadn’t seen or talked to Carson since the night she called him before Quinn had proposed. She went from a stranger, to someone he could see in his life forever, back to a stranger. 

He couldn’t even talk to a girl anymore without thinking of Carson, how she compared to her, how her humor and deadpan delivery wasn’t the same as Carson’s, how she didn’t look like Carson or walk like Carson. He was in love with his brother’s fiance, on his way to their engagement party.

___________________________

Jack barely processed what happened during the game. He made the plays he had to, passed the puck when he needed to, but his mind was empty. 

After the game, Luke comes up to him once they're both dressed. “Ready for this?”

“No.”

“Let’s do it, then.” 

They wait for Quinn outside, the adrenaline coursing through him more than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t sure he could face her, even after all this time.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, the voice he once loved now sending panic through him. 

“Hi.”

___________________________

“Alright, you’ve got to get it together,” Luke says as they get out of the car that brought them to the venue. Their parents were already inside, Carson and Quinn definitely inside. 

“I’ll be fine,” he lies, a gift in shaking hand as he opens the door with the other to let Luke go first. He took a deep breath, bracing himself to go in and face Carson for the first time since their phone call the night they ended up getting engaged. “I’ll be fine.”

The party was set up in a way that made exact sense for Carson, it was classy and elegant, while still having shades of Quinn’s chaos thrown in here and there. He didn’t know exactly why it made sense for them, but it did. 

Because they made sense.

“Hi,” he hears behind him, causing him to jump. Carson stands behind him, a short white dress fitting her perfectly in a way that made his heart race. He knew there was a reason to wear a black shirt, and it was to hide the sweat that he felt coming on just being around her. “How are you?”

“Good,” he says, holding out the gift. “This is from us.”

“Us?”

“Um,” he shakes his head, letting out a nervous laugh. “Me and Luke. You didn’t expect him to pick something out on his own, did you?’

“No, not at all.” 

They stand in silence, neither of them knowing what to do. “You look good,” he says, probably one of the first opinions he shared that actually had some semblance of truth to it.

“Thanks, you do, too. How are things?”

“Things are good,” he says, trying not to cringe at how awkward this whole thing felt. He shouldn't have come, but how was he going to say no to the girl he loved and his own brother? “I’m seeing someone, actually,” he hears himself say, surprised by the lie he didn’t know was coming.

“Really?” her eyes light up. “Jack, that’s great. Quinn didn’t tell me that.”

“It’s still new. I haven’t really said anything about it to Quinn yet. I don’t want to jinx it, you know?”

“I get it,” she nods, a smile still lighting up her face. “I’m so happy for you.”

She pulls him in for a hug, Jack keeping one of his hands in his pants pocket. He knew himself too well; if he hugged her too tight, he wouldn’t want to let go.

He hated how corny and stupid he felt. She is his older brother's fiance. He had to forget about her in that way. 

“Hey,” Quinn joins them, pulling Jack in for a hug. “Sorry to interrupt, but Car, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Go, go, I need to find my way to a drink anyway,” Jack waves them off.

Carson takes Quinn’s hand, turning to be led off somewhere by Quinn. She turns over her shoulder, smiling at Jack, as he watched the two of them walk off. She turns away, Jack staring up at the ceiling, not wanting to watch her walk away.

___________________________

The four of them get to a restaurant Quinn had taken his brothers to before, despite the fact that Jack couldn’t remember the name for the life of him. 

Jack sets his phone on the table, the rest of them doing the same.

As they order, Jack’s phone lights up with a text from Morgan: ‘When do you come home? I miss you.’

[littlemissaddict]

To Eddie it was a usual Saturday movie night around Steve's until it wasn't. Well there was the usual suspects Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and the kids but there was someone new, someone he'd only heard them talk about in passing but now she was here.

He'd managed to wait until after the first movie when she'd gone to help Nancy in the kitchen after the pizza delivery. "So what's her deal? How come she just shows up out of the blue? I mean it's a small town, everyone knows everyone but I've never heard of her until you all mentioned her" he asks, trying to keep his voice low so she can't hear.

"Jeez calm down, there's more to her than meets the eye in fact you are both probably more alike than you think" Robin reveals which leaves Eddie with even more questions, questions that he doesn’t get to ask as she and Nancy enter the room with the food.

They all make it through another movie before Eddie stands up declaring he needs a smoke break. "Anyone joining me?" He asks to which everyone declines. Shrugging his shoulders, Eddie turns and heads through to the kitchen towards the back door.

"Actually I think I could use a bit of fresh air" she says to no one in particular, pushing up off the couch and stretching her body out.

"But you don't smoke" Nancy pipes up.

"And is it really fresh air if your just inhaling second hand smoke?" Mike adds with a roll of his eyes.

Max clearly sensing what was going on reaches over and smacks Mike upside his head. She shoots the younger girl a grateful smile and follows the way Eddie went just moments earlier.

She cracks the door open as quietly as she can, not wanting to scare Eddie. Though it doesn't seem like it would have mattered anyway, he's sitting on one of the sun loungers over by the pool staring up into the sky at the stars overhead.

"They're so much prettier out here" she says softly as she joins him, taking a seat on the sun lounger next to him. Eddie doesn't flinch, she guesses he heard her coming, only hums in response as he takes another drag from his cigarette. "I used to love coming out here as a kid, life's so much slower than in the big city, you know you wouldn't find anyone just sitting around stargazing but then again there's too much light there so you can't really see the stars" she doesn't know why she's telling him this, her mouth running away with her as she settles back into the seat.

They sit in silence as Eddie finishes his cigarette, dropping it in the ashtray he had the foresight to bring out with him. He eyes her up as he turns, trying to work out what to say next without seeming too prying but when she turns towards him having sensed his gaze he decides to just go for it. "So how did you even become friends with them?"

She blinks at him, processing the question and to be fair the topic had never been discussed and she could see where his curiosity was coming from considering she wasn't even from the town. "Nancy," she says finally, "we'd made friends when I used to visit when I was younger and then the rest of the group just kinda claimed me as one of the the last few years" she explained.

Eddie nodded with a smile as he relaxed back into the sun lounger. "Makes sense, you and Nancy seem very alike" he comments, missing the way her nose scrunches in discontempt that he's already seems to have a made up image of her in his head when he doesn't even know her.

"We are alike but we're also not alike in the slightest" she informs him, not that there was anything wrong with being like Nancy, she was smart, pretty and fiercely protective of those she loves but at the same time she was also her own person, not Nancy.

"Coulda fooled me" he smirks, raising his brows in challenge to her to prove him wrong, "but then again the others seem to think the two of us have a lot in common" he adds, disbelief at the words written across his face.

"And they'd be right" she states, a smirk on her own face.

"Yeah, you take three times to graduate high school? Or are you a secret metalhead or something? Got some hidden tattoos you not showing?" He tries, all things that he doesn’t believe fit her.

"No," she replies without hesitation, causing Eddie to interrupt with a scoff, mumbling an 'I thought so' with a smug smile. "You didn’t let me finish," she huffs in frustration at his interruption, "I passed high school first time round, yes I listen to metal and yes I have tattoos" she finishes, feeling quite smug with herself in the way Eddie's now quiet, mouth hung open in disbelief.

"You-you" Eddie stutters at a loss for words, "can I see" he asks, referring to her tattoos.

"Are you asking me to strip? Jeez take a girl out to dinner first" she teases, just to see Eddie splutter some more. Call it payback for the misconception he had of her.

"Are you serious?" He asks, his face tinted red enough to see even in the fading light of the sun.

"About the tattoos, yes, about taking me out to dinner, no unless that's something you'd be interested in" she winks, enjoying the teasing and more so Eddie's reactions considering the loud and boisterous way he'd been so far tonight.

Eddie just stares at her, seemingly deciding what to say when Steve's voice comes from the back door, "are you too going to stay out there all night or can we put another movie on?" He sounds frustrated with the two of them but one look at his face tells them both that the anger is fake, he's probably just happy they're getting along.

She jumps up from the sun lounger, making her way towards the house without even looking if Eddie is following her but then Steve's question about if she's playing nice tells her that he hasn't. "Always" she promises with a sweet smile as she slides through the door and heads towards the rest of the group.

"Come on man" Steve urges as Eddie finally stands, only stopping when he gets to Steve. "Yeah I know, you'll get used to her" Steve chuckles, seeing the look of confusion and awe mixed into one on his face as he ushers him back inside to where the rest of the group were waiting.

[bajibitch]

Request: They cheat pt. 2

Souya, Takemichi, Manjiro, Baji, and Kazutora

Souya

If you treated him more like a lover and not a child he wouldn’t have done it. He doesn’t care to step out of a relationship that makes him feel more like your whittle cute brudder rather than your partner. Work on treating him like an adult and maybe you could get another chance.

Takemichi

It wasn’t cheating if you said you needed space. He knows you didn’t mean it like that but uses it as an excuse for a night without the nagging and endless reminders that he needs to improve. The person he was with the other day didn’t seem to have an issue with him, they thought he was perfect. He’d never admit to it but you’ll notice that he stays away for a few days when you’re having rough patches.

Manjiro

It’s not that he’s a cheater, you just find out he’s done with the relationship when you see him with someone else. He would’ve had a conversation but you made it clear that it scared you when he got serious. It hurt your feelings when he talked like he was upset and you would tear up when he mentioned something you did that he just took the wrong way.

Baji

It wasn’t like that. He doesn’t love them like he loves you, he was just making sure there weren't any feelings. Could you imagine if you guys got serious and he stayed up thinking what if he hadn’t try? Doesn’t that make sense to you? No? Well it does to him. He can’t explain it to help you understand but he means it when he says that it won’t happen again.

Kazutora

He didn’t wanna have to do it either, but he felt like you didn’t really like him. You don’t talk to him much and he feels like he’s always having to guess where you stand with him. He needed something more simple and obvious and you weren’t able to give him that. He’d feel bad if it was on him but this is all on you. Be a better lover and communicate more, he’s not a mind reader.

part one

[damn-stark]

Chapter 41 Thus with a kiss I die

Chapter 41 of Sugar

A/N- No surprises by Radiohead, you won’t thank me later but it fits this chapter!!!!

Warning- Swearing, ANGST!!!, death, flashback, SPOILERS!!!! long chapter!

Pairing- Choso x Gojo!fem-reader, Suguru Geto x Gojo!fem-reader

Episode and or chapters- Chapter 259

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

*SOMETIME AGO*

“Blood manipulation training day 1,” you talk to the camera and back up to show Itadori, Kamo, and Choso training, but first you pamper yourself and smile at the camera before stepping away to let the others get in view.

“What are you doing?” Kamo asks right as he spots the camera across the mat.

The three of you look at him and you glance at the camera as if it isn’t obvious before looking back at him and explaining. “Recording today's training? It’s good to record some part of it and go back to see what you did wrong. Aoi and I would do that when Yuki trained us. It’s,” you snort and shake your head. “It’s a pretty good idea. We have a lot of funny reels—”

“Fine.”

You pout at the boy's interruption and sit down on one of the benches to watch the blood manipulators at work.

Honestly, you wouldn’t have come but Choso insisted because he wanted to show you how he taught his brother.

“Hm…the trick to convergence,” Choso muses as he rubs his chin in a very smug manner.

“It looks like I’ll be doing switch training with Okkotsu, and Kusakabe,” Itadori says. “So I’ll need to work on blood manipulation the hard way. And we only have one month. Gimme every piece of advice ya got!”

“Through blood and tears,” you interject quietly as you think of a funny pun, and end up catching the attention of all three men.

“Oh,” Yuji feigns a laugh, whilst Kamo looks at you unamused, and Choso rubs his chin and squints at you.

“You’ll just need to learn through blood and tears Itadori,” you repeat louder and a lot more smug because you could think of something you deem funny.

“Literally,” he feigns another laugh and this time Choso finally snorts and chuckles, making you smile wider.

“Good one,” he points at you. “I like that one.”

You shrug smugly and cross one leg over there. “Now why don’t you show me what you got baby.”

Choso’s cheeks grow a shade of pink but he doesn’t falter this time, not in front of his brother.

“Well, convergence,” he turns and swings his arm. “It’s kinda like this…” he pauses and swings to the other side. “Then like that…then a lil’…”

Oh, what a sweet man. As good of a brother as he is, he doesn't really know how to teach does he?

“Seriously dude?!” Itadori remarks.

Then again maybe it’s the student as well.

“Cho!” You call him out, and he peers back to listen. “Why don’t you show him that blood armor thing?!” You suggest so he could take off his vest and his shirt.

“Well,” he finally tells you smugly without breaking into timidness. “Maybe…”

“He’s not ready,” Kamo cuts him off and faces Itadori. “Think of bathing in hot water. You can feel the heat encompassing your entire body. In that same way, you can expand your blood vessels, creating a vague outline of your body. That’s the basic foundation of blood manipulation. ”

Hm simple enough. A lot more helpful than Choso's way of teaching.

“Like when you piss yourself?” Itadori surprises you by blurting, which shouldn't be surprising, he has this goofy sense of humor, but still, ew.

“Uh, whatever works,” Kamo mutters with the same disgust you feel.

“Convergence is a technique that compresses your blood,” Kamo continues sharing with Itadori. “Meaning we can use a sponge or paper- anything that can be crumpled in your hand easily—To help with imagining it’s a similar feeling, cans or clay work too.” He motions with his hand, making Itafori nod in comprehension before turning to face his older brother.

“Choso,” he says. “This is what it means to teach someone.”

You look over at your boyfriend and can’t help but smile and grin even brighter when he starts to point at himself. “Supernova! Ask me about Supernova!”

“For starters,” Kamo counters quite respectfully. “We don’t have time to make blood manipulation a potent weapon for Itadori. It’ll be better for him to get the basics of stitching and stopping blood down.”

“Hmph,” Choso huffs in defeat and with a hanging pout that makes you walk over behind him to probe.

“I would like to know about Supernova.”

Choso slumps down and mutters in defeat. “You can’t even use blood manipulation.”

You push away from him and sit back down with the same pout he just used when he got rejected for teaching.

So much for tagging along!

Nevertheless amidst your growing boredom as you listen to Kamo, your phone rings, and when you check, it’s none other than your business partner, Kong.

“Oh, well what a welcoming surprise,” you greet the man smoothly. “Kong. Honey.”

At the sound of the man’s name Choso slowly sits up straight after being brushed aside to be replaced by the better teacher.

“Geto,” Kong greets quite irritatedly.

You sigh and sit back. “Can we make this quick, I’m in the middle of something.”

“Fine, get this man to stop following me. I gave you everything you needed. You found Geto, leave me alone,” he says rather brashly, which is not to your liking.

“Oh? Well fine,” you feign reassurance but then lean forward and actually click your tongue and inhale deeply as you prepare to bring something up. “But lately there’s been this…well, how can I put this…rat running around in my business…and you know if you don’t kill them they just fester and then it’s hard getting rid of them. What should I do?” You ask casually and glance at your nails.

Kong doesn’t miss what you’re insinuating with that clever choice of words so he sighs deeply and quickly argues. “I gave you everything you have. It’s all mine.”

You sit up and laugh, genuinely laugh, making his breath falter.

“You believe that?” You ask quietly in a voice that makes chills run down Choso’s spine.

“I know it,” Kamo claims confidently.

You feign a smile and remark sweetly. “Your business would’ve been nothing without me. I made it what it is, it’s mine, but because you did lend me a hand in starting it, I’ll give you a second chance. Or else I’ll call the exterminator, it’s not impossible to get rid of rats. Good day, Kong.”

You end the call and put your phone away before sitting up and swinging one leg over the other to continue watching the teaching going on in front of you.

“You know…” Choso trails on. “I could show you piercing blood. It’s pretty simple.”

You blink and look over at him, feeling your whole body ease at the mere sight of those rich brown eyes and that sweet smile. And after seeing him get turned down for teaching after being so excited and talking your ear off about all the things he’d teach Yuji, how can you turn him down?

“All right,” you give in and jump to your feet.

Choso follows you up and slips behind you to slip his hands under your elbows and push your arms out, making you smirk mischievously and bat your lashes before peering over at him.

Choso sees that smirk playing on your lips and swallows thickly before looking at your hands. “Focus,” he scolds you softly since he’s fighting the temptation of your soft lips calling his own to you.

“Okay then tell me.”

“Well,” He goes on and slithers his hands down your arms to grasp the back of your hands and push them together.

“It usually, you know, runs up to my fingers and I shoot. And that happens by bringing up all the blood to my hands and shooting at my target,” he says with growing excitement that makes you genuinely smile and just watch how his pupils glimmer. “I usually feel the heat and a…blood orb collects in between my palms before I shoot it. Which is similar to fire, hm?”

You summon fire to your palms, feeling the heat of the flames run through your veins before they glow under your fingertips. You don’t intend to shoot so you can keep the fire inside so as to not make a mess and disrupt the other learning opportunity happening across from you, but you give Choso your answer.

“Hm,” you hum in agreement and turn your head slightly to meet his gaze, feeling his burning desire under his inventive gaze, and his hot passion on your hips as he gently squeezes them.

“Your stance matters,” he speaks quietly but in an enticing way. “Your footing on the ground must be strong.” He says and glances at your lips, making you feel his blood rushing down to his member between his legs since he presses himself close to your back.

“What else?” You purr and bat your lashes, making him part his lips and breathe in but not mutter anything, you leave him at a loss for words over such simple gestures.

But he also burns you up with his intoxicating smell engulfing your sense of smell, those soft pink lips grazing the side of your ear, his hot breath unfurling over your cheekbone, and that sexy look in those beautiful rich eyes.

He’s such a distraction as he stands so close and that’s a mistake because before you know it, fire shoots out of your hands pointed ahead. When you feel it slip out of your fingers it’s already flying right in between Kamo and Itadori, and hitting the wall, completely missing them by mere inches.

“Oh,” you gasp and cover your mouth.

Choso steps back and looks at the burning hole you made and then looks at the shocked faces of his brother and very distant relative.

“I’m sorry,” you quickly say apologetically as you clutch onto your chest. “I’m…” you trail off and glance over at Choso, but that’s a grave mistake because the moment you do, you both watch each other with guilt for a second, but then you both look over at the black hole emitting smoke from the aftermath and start laughing.

Kamo and Itadori don’t find it funny because they were close to getting burnt, and Choso does feel sorry for almost being the cause of hurting his little brother, but you both can’t help but just laugh with each other. It’s like you’re enticed by each other, and hearing each other laugh only feeds into your humor.

——

*NOW*

Amidst the scorching heat that was quick to force itself through your secret art technique that was slowly failing at keeping you and Yuji safe from Sukuna’s divine flames, was suddenly a life-saving coolness that came with a pitch darkness.

Perhaps it’s your end, this was death coming back to collect what escaped its grasp before.

You don’t want to die. Not yet. Not in front of Choso, not when Satori is waiting for you to go and pick her up to take her home. You don’t want to die here either…

However, before you can convince yourself you’re dead, through the deafening darkness is Choso. He’s very close to you, and he was the one who saved you and Yuji from those deadly flames.

You had heard him calling out to you before, but this wildfire was so overwhelming that your mind quickly drifted your attention away. But now he’s here, he’s your savior and you can't help but smile with relief until your heart sinks to your stomach and this sudden bone-chilling fear hits you.

Something doesn’t feel right. Something doesn’t look right about him keeping up the shield made of blood, and rather than him just being covered in soot and slashes like Yuji and you, Choso seems to be getting slowly consumed by fire. And you would know, you have that technique, you know how it kills a person and the pungent smell of burning flesh.

But this can’t be what you see or smell, not from him.

“Choso,” your voice shakes while you still want to smile as you cling onto hope.

Said man meets your gaze and a charming smile decorates his features. He then glances at his brother and his smile only turns more fond as he speaks his name and yours with a gentle tenderness.

“Choso?!” Yuji exclaims as he too starts to realize what you do but what you keep wanting to refuse.

“What are you doing?!” Yuji proceeds to yell.

You study your husband's face and that fire seems to be consuming more of him right in front of you, and you can’t even stop it.

“You can’t do this!” Yuji remarks.

That smile doesn’t falter, his eyes drift down but that charming smile stays on his face. “I’m sorry,” he finally explains what’s going on. “I was useless during training. Your big brother tends to do things instinctively.”

Why can’t he stop?

Why don’t the flames stop?

Why?

“Cho—” Yuji cuts himself off mid-shout and draws in a shaky breath before his face falls and averts his gaze. “Instinctively, huh? You really hit the nail on the head…” he trails off and shares a moment of silence with his brother that makes you think that he needs to stop or he’ll die. The fire keeps eating at him. It keeps taking more of him away from you.

“Choso,” your whisper trembles, and the charming man slowly looks over at you. This time that smile falters.

“What are you doing?” You ask the same thing Yuji asked not long ago in hopes the answer would change and the outcome would be a hopeful one.

“My love,” he whispers softly and with so much fondness. “I’m sorry.”

You shake your head and step forward. “You promised,” you throw at him with a burst of anger. “You swore!”

He nods without shame and swallows back a lump of emotions he didn’t want you or his brother to see. “I did, I meant to keep that promise, I really did, but what husband, what brother, and what father would I be if I let you all die when I can do something to stop it?”

“We could find a way,” you argue desperately. “I can—”

“No, I saw it,” he cuts you off confidently. “You were going to collapse and I was going to have to watch you die all over again. I don’t want to live just to see that again, you deserve a happy life. I wish—”

“No!” You bellow mid-sentence and want to lunge forward to grab his face as if that would stop the inevitable, but the space is so small that there's no room to move any further, leaving him just out of arm's reach.

“Please, no,” your anger falters and your agony seeps through. “Please…Choso. Tell me what you want to say after. Please,” you break into a shaky sob.

His smile trembles and his eyes cloud with tears, but instead of saying all the beautiful things he wants to recite to you from one moment to another your surroundings go from grim and then to a serene view of vivid green hills, and a timid sun letting the night sky shine.

“Tsukumo threatened to pop my head off my body if I ever hurt you,” Choso mentions casually. “I didn’t believe she could do it until I saw her technique at work.”

You blink and keep your eyes fixated on the beautiful scene conjured up by nothing but the last remnants of his will.

“She was really protective of you,” he mumbles as he starts to notice your aggravation. “But that’s how big sisters are…” he trails off and he reaches over to grab your hand but you pull it away and hug your knees to your chest as you keep watching the gentle breeze move the sea of grass.

“I’ve,” you stammer and clear your throat to let your anger sound clear. “I've lost so many people I have loved, and maybe it’s my fault. I’ve gotten attached to them in this cruel world, but…I thought you wouldn’t let me down. You out of everyone. So w-why?” You can’t help but cry before you snap your head to the side to pierce your watery glare into him. “W-why are you leaving me?”

Choso sees how the last glimmers of the sun capture your eyes and his breath catches in his throat while that tough act falls because the truth is you were one of the few people he could be completely vulnerable with. You could see him sob and he wouldn’t feel like he was looking weak, he didn’t feel like he was letting someone down by crying in front of them. He feels comforted.

“I don't want to,” he finally admits with every word pampered with emotion. “I wanted to live a long life with you and our family. I want to be a father, I want to be by your side, but I’ve lost you once, and I’ve let Yuji down once, I can’t do it again. I can’t…so please don’t fight me on this, my love, please just let me look at you one more time. That way when I look into your eyes all I’ll see is my sun…my moon…my stars…my most beloved, my love, you.”

You can’t. You can’t accept this fate, you can’t pretend to be okay just to make him feel better about his sacrifice. No matter how sweet his words are, you don’t want them to be the last thing you hear, you don’t want this to be your final moments together.

You can’t be selfless. Your heart shattering and turning to nothing but dust terrorizes you. Your chest collapses within itself, and the beauty of the world vanishes to nothing, so you can’t smile.

You sit across from him like you would do when you would watch the city in your sleepless nights when you were trapped in that apartment for nine days. You hold his gaze with your eyes pampered with tears so you can plead and beg speechlessly and desperately like your life depended on it. Because it does, he’s the light that had once vanished in your life, he’s your hope and a part of your soul. How can you not fight for his life?

“Please don’t do this to me,” you cry, but not in that made-up world, you tell his withering body that had little to nothing left of the man you love because of that scorching fire that keeps consuming him.

“I love you,” he redirects endearingly and with that same amount of appreciation and tenderness he always held for you since the day he remembered who you were and what you meant to his old soul.

Albeit you’re selfish, these are the last words you’ll hear from him. Ever. After this…all he’ll be is a memory and you can’t accept it. You already lost one man you loved to death, you can’t lose another one to him again. Not again.

“Choso please don't do this! Stop! Please stop,” you beg with your life. “Choso!”

He holds your fire-kissed eyes that he loves so much and that he found hope in after a century of darkness, and all he sees is his joy as well as the love of his life and he can't be happier that fate was kind enough to let him cross paths with you.

“I love you,” he says a lot softer and with a quiver he can’t hide.

“No,” you sob. “Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me!”

He wishes he could stay and live a long life, he hates hearing you plead so heartbrokenly, but he can’t watch you or Yuji die, he has to do what he needs to do.

Thus he holds your gaze for a lingering second and then looks at his little brother.

“Thank you Yuji,” he now dedicates his last words to his little brother before his life can be taken once and for all. “Thank you for being my little brother.”

Yuji inhales sharply and shakily before filling his brother's heart with sweet words full of love. “Thank you. Big brother…”

After those words are uttered Choso’s chest stops moving once and for all, filling his protective blood bubble with a grieving silence that you can’t process.

You stand there with no heart left, and hundreds of words left in your mouth that you never got to tell him.

“Choso,” you call out even if you’re looking at a cruel reality. “My love?”

The protective blood shield that kept your surroundings dark begins to collapse welcoming a grim sight of thick smoke and a burnt city, proving Choso’s attempts worthwhile.

But you can’t be appreciative, not when his lifeless body falls on the ash-covered ground with a thud. You actually can’t even believe he’s gone—no refuse to accept the truth.

“Choso,” you cry out and crawl over to his body that would’ve been unrecognizable if you hadn’t seen him burn away. “Choso, baby, you,” you say between sobs. “You’re okay. You’ll be okay.”

You gently cradle him and lean your face down towards his. “Just heal, you can do that,” you speak madness. “Do that for me please.”

You don’t think of your babies growing inside you who won’t know their father, you don’t care about his brother he left behind or that some part of you thinks you deserve this agony for all the things you’ve done, all you care about is him and your grief.

“Choso, honey,” you coo as you caress his hardened face. “Heal. Please,” you beg.

There’s still so much you want to tell him. You still need to tell him you love him, how grateful you are to him for loving you even after all the evil you did, for loving someone so cruel and selfish; for seeing the good, your strength, and your beauty. You never got to thank him for all the happiness he filled you with, or for caring for your daughter the way he did.

You never got to tell him that he was the love of your life, or that he completed your soul.

He left you like Suguru left you, and like Satoru did.

He left you empty with no heart or soul left. There’s an empty shell, left even more hollow without your brother. And it hurts, it pains you deeply with such an agonizing pain you have never felt before. It leaves you numb and unaware of the fact that in the blink of an eye, you were suddenly transported with lifeless Choso in your arms just past the area Sukuna vaporized with his fire.

From one moment to another, you’re facing a leveled city straight out of apolocpyse, and the next you’re staring numbly at an abandoned city as empty as the husk you call your body.

You would say that you were alleviated from that sense of danger, but the truth is you didn’t feel it. You don't feel the urgency to move away and protect yourself or who you carry in your body, nothing matters but the hope that Choso will somehow return. And now that nothing else surrounds you, now that Sukuna isn’t stomping your way through the clouds of smoke, you just disassociate yourself. By will or not you don’t know or care. You’re alone, truly alone.

And once again you can’t cling onto the love you have for your kids, no matter how hard you want to, you can’t depend all your happiness on a little girl. How could you give her that burden?

So it means that your greatest fear came true, you’re alone at the end of the world, carrying the corpse of your happiness, half your soul, and surrounded by the fading debris of what used to be.

What can you do now but lay down on the cold ground beside Choso’s corpse and nuzzle against him like you would in the mornings when you were both just relaxing before starting your day. You drape your arm around him like you liked to do so you could keep him close and bask in his warmth. You rest your head on his chest as if you were listening to his heartbeat.

Your world is now so desolate that nothing matters. You’re not cold or in a hurry to help.

You don’t care—or try not to…But the truth is you’re terrified and in withering pain. And never in your life have you ever felt so alone like now.

“You’re such a liar,” you whisper as if he could hear you. “You lied to me. You swore and you lied.”

You should hate him, find happiness, and hate him for leaving you the way he did, but you can’t even fathom the thought. You’re too in love with him to ever hate him or the happy memories that will surely turn sour soon.

“Why did you have to leave me?” You demand to know from a corpse as you refuse to accept reality. “Why? I love you so much…I told you I would die for you…”

You trail off to wait for a response because you know he’d tell you to shut up about doing something stupid, but it was far from a lie, and it was romantic in your head.

Now you understand why that foolish man from that tragic story killed himself for the woman he loved. You understand his pain, and his desperation to see the one you love again so you won’t have to spend a second longer without them. You know now why he couldn’t fathom living on…

Because there’s nothing left. You’re all alone, and there’s nothing worse than that. Which is why you’ll do it.

You’ll die for the man you love.

“Because,” you swear to whatever bind that holds power in your world. “What does strength mean compared to living without you? What is pride when there’s nothing to be proud of in the wake of your loss that will always hurt me and feel like a fresh wound? I don’t want to drag on without you. So please,” you sob into his chest. “Bring him back, I don’t care if he’s a non-sorcerer, just bring him back…”

You’ll give it up, your strength and power that held you so above everyone else. You’ll live as the people you hated. You’ll love the kind of people you hated and scorned for what they couldn’t have just so you don’t live without him. You will leave behind the person you took so long to build to your image. You will die just so you can live on with him by your side until the day you die.

And it can be a few hours from now, you don’t care, you just want him back.

“Please,” you beg whatever force made up the binding vows. “Please.”

You slowly sit up to look at Choso’s face, or what was left of him, and beg with all your agony and might. “Please just come back. Please Choso.” You whisper breathlessly and lean down to whisper against his lips and plead one more time with all the might and sincerity you hold.

“Please come back as gentle and sweet, as caring and passionate, as funny and protective as you were.”

You close your eyes and press your lips against Choso’s one more time, unaware of the fate you sealed, and of the gift of life and death you gave from deep inside of your withered soul with a sweet kiss.

When silence follows to consume you once again, it soon gets disrupted, but this time it’s not you that fills it with sorrowful words, this time Shoko calls out your name, but you don’t bother to get up.

Not because you’re waiting to see if your fate is sealed, you just don’t get up because you don’t have the energy. You’re too numb.

“Honey, get up and let me take you both inside,” she speaks sweetly and with caution.

You stay quiet and still as if you were lifeless yourself, so Shoko decides to slowly walk to you while someone else decides to cut in now; someone younger and sweeter and who doesn’t smoke ten packs in an hour.

Kirara calls out for you and they’re much faster to reach you and actually attempt to see if you were alive, or dead like the man you’re cradling.

“You can be with him inside. Come on, I'll help you.” They offer.

You close your eyes and sigh shakily, letting more hot tears stream down your cheeks,

“Come on,” Kirara doesn’t plead with you, she grabs your arm but makes sure to caress it as she offers her comfort first. “I’m sure this is uncomfortable, and I’m sure you’re cold.”

If you get up you’ll see Kirara, you’ll welcome their comfort. You’ll see Shoko and appreciate her attempts at comforting you, but you’ll still be alone, you won’t see the one person who you’re aching to see in such a low time in your life, Satoru won’t be there to wrap you an embrace or silently sit with you to provide comfort in a way he knows how.

You’ll stand surrounded by people but be abandoned.

“No,” you say hoarsely and grab onto Choso’s body a little tighter. “I want to stay here with him, I’m waiting.”

You open your eyes and catch Kirara's worried glance they share with Shoko.

Yet even then Shoko doesn’t walk over, so Kirara pulls you up and to avoid actually being a nuisance you push yourself up, but never take your eyes off Choso’s corpse.

“You fought well,” Kirara praises you as they wrap a blanket around your shoulders. “You all did.”

“I’ll have someone carry him inside you’ve already overstrained yourself,” Shoko breaks her silence that you begin to find odd. You’re surprised she’s not by your side being as worried as Kirara, she's actually being rather pushy after you returned from fighting Kenjaku.

Maybe all this has just taken a toll on her…

“You’ve been outside too long you feel rather cold,” Kirara points out as they drag their feet with you as you move slowly as if doing so is wearing you down.

“Shoko,” you catch the woman off guard and slowly drag your eyes up, letting her see how red your eyes are from crying so much, and the beautiful tragedy scared on every detail of your face and only spread its roots deeper within you. She can especially see such tragedy in your eyes, it’s hard to miss just like the sudden change.

Once furious eyes blazing with mesmerizing and ferocious fire are losing their mark.

But how, she wonders. Is your grief really impacting you so hard that it’s taking a physical toll on you?

“Kirara let's walk her into my office, I want to check on her,” she tells them as if you’re not there—then again you kind of aren’t there.

“Yuji? Where is Yuji?” You finally express your concern.

Shoko meets your gaze but quickly averts it. “Still fighting,” she lets you know and doesn’t fully relieve you of that worry, but you’re relieved he’s still alive.

“Todo used his technique and brought you in,” Kirara trails on after Shoko.

Aoi?

You glance over at Kirara with worry and they don’t fail to quickly assure you as if they knew what you were going to ask. “He’s fine, he should be helping Itadori fight now, so don’t worry.”

You sigh with relief even if now you have a bigger knot in your stomach because Todo is fighting now too.

“Kinji?” You ask for a man you haven’t heard anything about, even though given the fact that he wasn’t out fighting Sukuna, or here now means he should still be fighting Uraume.

“He’s still fighting, just like you said he would,” Kirara tells you with hope still laced in her voice which makes you think how beautiful it is to hear before you reach Shoko and wonder why she’s having such a hard time meeting your eyes, or even being close to you.

“Shoko,” you call out softly to your best friend and have Kirara stop so you can reach for Shoko’s arm with the intent to ask if she’s okay, or if something else happened, but then just as you thought that this was the end of your world, another pair of footsteps echo towards you.

You don’t think anything of it, you don’t want to because you assume someone is coming to collect Choso’s body, but Shoko shifts her head away and you catch a glimpse of black shoes you recognize. Black shoes you recognized first not long ago.

Can it be?

No, it can't, he's…dead.

But…

You draw in a deep and trembling breath and slowly scale your eyes up the approaching figure, feeling your pulse quickly racing as you recognize those baggy white pants you once thought were too big to wear for a fight, and that tight black shirt that hugged him tightly.

As you reach his face you question your sanity. It has to be your grief, it can’t be who you think it is right across from you.

He’s dead. He…he…

Oh, but those eyes. They’re so unique and so kind. How can you mistake that lively gleam in his eyes that always accompanied him? How can you mistake those bright eyes that you called home, that you found comfort in when you were terrified and upset?

You can’t mistake the eyes of your beloved older brother. You can’t miss the fact that his chest is moving and that he blinks. You can’t mistake him for an illusion because he revives that hope you had just lost with the death of your most beloved.

You can’t mistake him because he’s standing right there in front of you amongst the silent wind, the distant and unwelcoming warmth, and under the dry sky.

“Satoru,” you muse blissfully.

.

.

.

.

A/N- WHAT IS THE WORST THING SHE CAN DO AFTER FINDING OUT ABOUT WHAT THEY DID WITH GOJOS BODY?

Tagged- @deniseabad1928 @secondary-character-25 @starlightanyaaa @notsaelty @d4rno @moonnime @kodzukein @yozora7154 @heijihattorisgf @elegantweirdorchest @natakina

[silentmoths]

A lick and a promise

Its been *squints* Seven months since i cooked.

god damn its been seven whole ass months CRIES

Boothill got me so fkn good i cant even BEGIN to explain why he's such a comfort character for me ok he just IS.

Boothill x Reader (fem but it's really only mentioned in regards to anatomy.)

NSFW

Enemies to Lovers (kinda?), Smut, Hurt/comfort (kinda?), Oral sex, fingering, boothill is a gd kendoll (sorry boothill genatalia nation i just...wanted to write this like he was a ken doll LEAVE ME-)

7k words, NOT PROOFREAD

The first time you run into the Galaxy Ranger known as Boothill, you’re not sure what to make of him.

You were just an unsuspecting casualty, the pilot, nothing more. Flying ships for the IPC had to beat minimum wage, right? This was your first real gig with them, something a little more secure.

If you managed to make it off pier point without having a gun aimed at you that is.

A…cowboy. You’d heard about them, of course, but seeing one in this day and age was almost unheard of unless you travelled to planets far out in the west, ones untouched by the IPC and their ‘modernizations’.

Yet this cowboy also seemed to be touched by said modernizations, considering almost all of him was made of metal. Hell, all of him might be synthetic, nanotechnology was a terrifying thing, it could eat away the organic and replace it with the inorganic, mimicking skin and its blemishes, hair and all its different shades, like the curtain of black and white you see before you. 

“Han’s where I can fudgin’ see em.” He warns quietly, pistol pointed directly between your eyes. You do as he asks, why wouldn’t you? You weren’t being paid enough to put your life on the line for…whatever the hell you were carrying, you didn’t know, the IPC didn’t enforce ledger-checks- You tell the cowboy as much when he asks.

“Yeah that tracks.” he mutters with a roll of his visible eye. “Lookit’ you, still wet behind the darned ears.” 

“D-do I get a pardon i-if I told you it was my first day on the job?” you manage to squeak out, a terrible habit really, opening your mouth in times you should really stay silent…but the cowboy cracks a grin, a very sharp-toothed grin.

“Ah heck, really?” He chuckles, shaking his head as he spins his pistol in his hand and tucks it away into its holster. “Look I aint’ got no beef with ya. ya ‘ aint even wearin’ an IPC uniform-” “C-contract work.” You cut in with your explanation, only scolding yourself after the fact for, once again, interrupting the one with the gun. “The IPC really gettin that desperate, huh?” He snorts, his robotic fingers flexing as he himself goes to check the ledger, it was obvious he’d done this a few times…perhaps thats why the IPC had started hiring a third party, someone new for him to kill.

And yet he doesn’t kill you. 

He ties you up, sure, but he’s not an entire ass about it, he even apologises when he pulls the rope a little too tight and you squint.

“S’a formality.” He mumbles as he ties the knot tight “y’understand.”

“I guess…Just…thanks for not killing me I guess, Mr.Cowboy.” You shrug, perhaps you were still in a little bit of shock, perhaps you were coping with humour and ‘funny’ comments…perhaps, inside, you wanted to cry because of course of all the times to be held at gunpoint it was your first day working for the IPC.

“Name’s Boothill.” He corrects. Boothill, huh? You’d read about that…some eons old name for gunslinging cowboys who should have been dead. 

After you had been discovered, set free, and promptly fired, you decide to look up this ‘Boothill’ character; you find little other than his bounty…whoever he was, he kept himself pretty closed off…made sense for a galaxy ranger.

-

The second time you encounter Boothill, you’re working on a satellite array. It’s a shit job, it was freezing cold out here, and the welding masks given to you and your coworkers by your bosses were cheap, low quality, offering little protection from the welding torch and its bright, concentrated glare.

After your firing from pier point, no other freighting company was willing to take you on, and in a desperate attempt to get some damned food into your belly, you’d taken this job on some far out meteorite, repairing this shitty, run down satellite so the IPC could extend their reach further.

If the bosses had bothered to do a background check, they would have seen the unfortunate mark next to your name.

’Banned from all positions within IPC jurisdiction’ 

But considering the shit pay, shit hours, and shit accommodation? The old hand’s out here didn’t really care much for the ‘official’ rules; so long as you weren’t being actively hunted.

There was no sun out here, so every few hours there was a mandatory UV break, in which you all got to return to the little sleeping pods that were nothing but glorified transport containers with a wall sectioning off one third to make a bathroom; just to sit beneath a UV bulb. 

Whoever had lived in this one before you had stuck up a picture of a beach on the wall you had to stare at beneath the lamp, and faintly, you wonder if they ever made it there- or had they just keeled over dead from overwork? That seemed more likely, considering nothing had been cleaned out of your pod when you’d arrived. 

As you bask in your shitty, simulated sun, an explosion wracks the entire facility, sending you toppling to the floor as the world spins, cracks apart, opens like the gnashing teeth of some horrific space creature.

Was it a space creature? Had the meteorite collided with something it shouldn’t have? You didn’t want to find out, but you sure as fuck weren’t about to stay here and probably die once the oxygen field around the place sputtered out. The emergency guide tape’s you’d been forced to watch are nothing to help against the real thing, a real emergency. There are sirens blaring, the stark white light’s had all died, replaced by that infuriatingly anxiety inducing red as you struggle to put your space suit on. 

Just make it to a shuttle, they weren’t far, thats all you had to do.

It’s a mantra you tell yourself as the ceiling above you begins to crack and crumble, your time here was up. 

As you wrench open the door to your pod, you collide with someone. Considering you yourself looked like a glorified marshmallow in the emergency suit, you certainly weren't expecting the person you collided with to be as…hard as they were, solid like steel to the point you’re sent toppling back and unceremoniously onto your back, like a turtle.

A familiar pistol is pointed at your helmet.

No fucking way.

Boothill stands there, grin on his face and a gun in yours as he looks you up and down before howling with laughter. “Now what in the hay is that?” he wheezes as you struggle, only to stop when you push the visor of your helmet up, revealing a face he recalls. “No fudgin’ way-”

“You again!” You screech, flailing your limbs as you attempt to stand in this…ungainly suit. “What the fuck are you doing here now!?”

“I could ask you the same mother forkin’ question!” He barks back, yet despite it all, he withdraws the pistol and even shows some mercy, reaching down to pull you back onto your feet “the fork you doin here?” 

“Well, someone got me fired from my last job!” you snark at him “and now it looks like I'm out of another, what did you do!?” “Blew up tha’ satellite!” He chuckles as if he’d just won at an arcade game and not caused millions of credits in damages. You open your mouth to…you don’t even know- Shout? Scold a wanted criminal? Beg for mercy? When the world tilts again, the sound of rock cracking and metal creaking fills your senses; resulting in you simply screaming out of fear. 

This was it, this was where you died. On a rock, in the middle of space, blown to smithereens by a cowboy. Except, the cowboy reaches down, and for a moment you think he’s going to kill you, just to stop the screaming. Instead, he grabs your arm and yanks you upright without a word, tugging you along behind him like you weighed nothing in this stupid marshmallow safety suit. (perhaps, to a cyborg, you didn’t weigh anything.)

Boothill cares little for the smoke and the flames, and you are just a leaf in his wind, guided through it all with scary precision until there is suddenly nothing and you realise what he’d just done.

This fucking cowboy galaxy ranger had just leaped off of the edge of the meteorite, dragging you along with him. 

Correction; this is how you die, once you left the gravitational field, you’d just be stuck…floating in the void of space forever…no one would ever find your body-

Before your thought can finish, you crash into something hard, a ship, you realise, you had fallen into the open loading hatch of a ship, unlike boothill who landed on his feet, you’re simply a pile on the floor.

You hear the cowboy laugh as he turns to look at you, and you thank the fact that you’re face down from keeping your likely red, teary face from his scrutiny. 

“Y’alright down there?” He asks.

“Peachy.” you mutter back, your muscles ached, but the adrenaline was already beginning to wane, suddenly the suit felt…heavy, impossibly heavy as you listen to the sound of the ship’s hatch closing. “Why’d you save me?”

Boothill thinks on it for a moment. Why had he saved you? It wasn’t really his M.O, saving people, especially when they worked for the IPC…he supposes a part of him felt a little bad… you hadn’t been working for them directly last time…and because of his stunt, you’d lost that job and had resorted to working for them in this backwater shithole of an array. 

“Eh, Y’aint worth killin.” he responds after a moment “S’not like you’re the mother fudger I’m looking for anyways.” 

Something about the way he says it…stings. Not worth killing? 

Slowly you sit up, a terribly ungraceful affair in this stupid space suit as you pull the helmet off entirely and toss it to the floor, there was no point hiding the tears anymore. 

“Wh- hey now! What’s got in yer’ boot?” Boothill balks at your teary face “what’s tha’ matter?”

You hate how stupid you must look, crying, red in the face…embarrassing really. But after the scare you’d just had, you don’t have the forwithall to keep your composure anymore.

“Whats the matter?” you mutter, staring at the cold, metal floor of the ship “what’s the matter is that you have single handedly managed to lose me not one, but TWO JOBS!” 

You don’t mean to shout, really, you should be thanking him for saving your life. 

“I’m BANNED from working for the IPC!” you cry “I wasn’t even meant to be working here! But where else am I meant to go!? EVERY job is somehow overseen by some division of the IPC, I can’t work anywhere else! Now you say I’m not even worth killing!?”

Boothill stares, the gears turning as he simply takes the emotional vitriol thrown his way. It had been…a long time since he’d found himself faced with this kind of problem.

“Aw shirt…” he mutters, realising his words had only worsened the situation. He takes a knee, pulling his hat off as he watches, he sees the way you’re shaking, your fingers flexing; he might be ‘old fashioned’, but he could recognize a panic attack. “C’mere, let's get this great forkin marshmallow suit off ya.” 

You don’t even have the faculties to push him away as cold, robotic fingers begin tugging away at the velcro, the zippers and the straps. Breathing was getting harder, everything ached. Only once the galaxy ranger had pulled you free of the confines of that damned suit could you expand your chest properly. Too small, you realised, the suit you’d been given was way too small.

“Easy, easy, easy.” Boothill mutters as he sits you down “jus’ breathe.” 

Easy for him to say, did a cybernetic cowboy even need to breathe?

He could see the struggle, but what the hell was he meant to do about it? It wasn’t wrong..the IPC had their fingers in so many pies… finding a job untouched by them? That’s like finding a needle in a haystack. 

It wasn’t often Boothill felt…guilty. But somehow…you’d managed it.

“Aw c’mon, don’t gimme the waterworks.” he sighs “Look…ah’ll admit I forked up your job prospects, I’ll fudgin’ take that responsibility… will ya at least lemme see if I can help?”

“What can you do!?” You cry at him “If the IPC catches wind that I’ve somehow been caught up with you again-”

“Lemme take ya to a planet the IPC don’t care ‘bout.” He cuts in suddenly, an idea forming in his mind. “Been there plenty, they’re good folk, they’ll help ya.. Ya just…gotta trust me.” A planet untouched by the IPC? That seemed like a pipe dream…

“Impossible.” you mutter “any planet the IPC finds, it conquers.”

Boothill grins, that same toothy grin you remember from your first encounter with him. “I know, right? But this one? This one’s special.”

Eyama II was a small planet with little in the way of resources the IPC wanted or needed, a dwarf planet no less, nothing but a speck of dust floating through their air filters. It was a self-sufficient, homely type place…if he was being honest with himself, it’s where he would want to retire if he ever saw his goal through…living the simple life he used to know before the IPC had ripped it from him. 

He knows it’s not the most…elegant solution, but he knew some fine folk there, some fine folk who might just be willing to help the poor outcast he’d created. -

It’s a long trip. It had to be if it was out of the IPC’s gaze…but that did mean a long trip with Boothill.

In a tiny two person at most ship.

You didn’t really know what to expect, if he’d just tie you up and put you in the corner…but as it turns out…he’s somewhat hospitable… ok more than somewhat.

After you’d calmed enough to be reasoned with, he’d handed you a bottle of nondescript nature. Without much thinking, you’d taken a swig, eyes widening at the distinctly alcoholic taste. It wasn't anything strong like whiskey, but it was enough of a shock.

“Malt juice.” He clarifies as he takes a seat at the helm, setting the warp drive “figured it’d help calm ya nerves.” You blink down at the bottle before slowly taking another, more temperate sip.

It…wasn’t bad…actually it was pretty good. It burned your throat just enough to keep you in the present.

You both talk…small things, you ask him how he knew of this planet, and tells you about all the planets he’d visited that weren’t under the IPC’s thumb, how all of them were nice, simple places.

He tells you that he thinks you’d like Eymaya II, he thinks everyone would like Eymaya II. It had rolling hills and green valley’s. The people were mostly farmers, ranchers, common folk just going through the motions to get by, but not in the same nihilistic sort of way most did. Good, honest living, as he says.

Part of you wonders if there ever was a time this ranger worked a good honest life, if this whole…cowboy thing was a facade, or if it was real, remnants of a past he couldn’t return to. You’re not sure if it’s his conversation, the malt juice, or both, but you eventually begin to open up, about your home life, about your terrible habit of cutting into conversations when you were nervous, all of it. 

And when you begin to fall asleep? Your head nodding slowly where you sat, you feel a cold, metal hand rest on your shoulder.

“C’mon, you need ta’ rest.” He tells you, guiding you to the cot that looked seldom, if at all used.

For a wanted criminal who had put you out of two jobs and nearly killed you both times…he was surprisingly kind.

-

He wasn’t wrong about this planet. It was beautiful, the air was fresher than you could ever recall, living in the city.

Apparently, the look on your face says as much. Boothill chuckles, tilting his head softly as he watches you take it all in. “Told ya ye’d like it.” He hums, something in his mechanical chest whirring with..pride perhaps? Satisfaction? He wasn’t entirely sure, but seeing a face that, so far, all he’d seen from was fear and upset finally show…wonder…it felt good. He wanted to see it more, perhaps even a smile one day. 

He takes you to the inn, sets you up with Jodie, an elderly woman who had been around the block quite a few times, she didn’t put up with Boothill’s antics, more like…a curmudgeonly aunt at first as she barks at him for not calling in sooner, only for it all to melt away into an almost familial warmth as the cowboy explains himself, explains you.

“now child I know you did not lose this poor thing not one but TWO jobs!” She scolds, hands on her hips. 

There is a lick of satisfaction as you watch boothill shrink beneath the innkeeper’s rage. 

“Donchu’ worry hon, we’ll getcha set up here, somewhere this block for brains can’t accidentally getchu fired. Only thing that’ll do that around here is laziness…you aint lazy, are you?” she asks, turning to you and squinting her beady, aged eyes at you, making you stiffen up as well.

“N-no ma'am!” you bark instantly “I-I promise to work hard and earn my keep!”

This atleast, seems to settle her some, and before you know it, you have a hot meal and an ice cold drink in front of you, and you want to cry again.

You actually feel…somewhat sad when boothill has to leave…anxiety twisting in your gut… would you really be okay here? Would you survive? 

But he pats you on the shoulder and grins, and something about it is…comforting.

Something about it made you want to try.

-

It’s five years until you see Boothill again.

Jodie had grown too old to continue running the inn, and somehow, against all odds, it was you who had taken over. The entire place was yours, and you were happy. 

Not a day goes by where you don’t wonder how you ended up here, but then you recall, the enigmatic cyborg cowboy who had hijacked your ship, and then blown up a satellite array.

Somehow, your outlook on him had turned from disdain to…a strange sort of affection. The frigid anger had melted away, and what replaced it was a sense of…thankfullnes for what he’d done for you. Working here, away from the almost all-encompassing reach of the IPC had opened your eyes to just how…corporate everything felt, and how it so desperately wasn't you. 

It’s a late evening, you’re closing up for the night, the bar had emptied of all it’s usual late-staying regulars, and those who had rooms rented for the evening had already retired. 

You’re polishing a few glasses when the door swings open.

“Well now, there’s a face I ain’t seen in a forkin long time.” 

The voice is familiar, and has you turning, a small smile tugging at your lip. A mixture of feelings racing through your chest.

“Well well, come to let me collect your bounty, Sir?” you snicker, placing the glass you’d just polished beneath the malt juice tap to pour him a glass.

Boothill laughs, sauntering in with the swagger you remember as he drops into the stool closest to you. “How’ve you been, Boothill?” you ask him, setting the glass in front of him and waving away his credits. You owed him one drink, atleast, “what’ve you been up to?”

The galaxy ranger snorts, throwing some of his long hair over his shoulder “How long ya’ got there, sweetheart? S’gonna be a long story.”

“I own the place now, and we’re closed, so all the time in the world.” you hum, deciding to pour yourself a glass as well after locking the door. “Shoot, really? What happened to ol’ jodie?” He asks, voice tinged with legitimate concern as you drop into the barstool beside him.

“She’s fine, she’s fine..just old is all.” You assure him, finding a little comfort in the relief that washes over his features.

“Ah, fork don't scare a guy like that.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair “thought Jodie had up n’ left us.”

“Nah, she’s got a while on her yet.” you snort, taking a sip of your drink.

The conversations run long into the night, catching up, listening to the thing’s he’d done, places he’d seen…IPC operations he’d torn apart at the seams. He listens to you too, as you tell him about how things have been here, catching him up on anyone he asked about. It was like talking to an old friend. You weren't sure…what boothill was to you…a friend? An acquaintance? It was…complicated. 

More malt juice enters your systems, you ask if it actually has an affect on him.

“You know…being a cyborg and all..” you mumble, feeling a distinct warm dusting to your cheeks as the malt settles. 

Instead of responding with words, the galaxy ranger reaches out and takes your hand into his. He feels…

Warm.

“You tell me, darlin.” He chuckles after a moment, watching you though half-lidded eyes. You barely even notice, more curious about how the alcohol affected him. Without even thinking, you run your fingers along his exposed arm; you weren’t going crazy, he was warm, almost humanly so. 

Your fingers continue to wander without much thought until they brush along his jawline; the sudden transition from steel to skin is what finally snaps you out of your own thoughts, pulling back with a squeak.

“O-Oh aeons I’m sorry!” you fluster at his face, his eyes are wide and his mouth slightly ajar. “I-I got carried away I’m-”

His hand reaches out again, clasping yours and pulling it back towards his face as he rests his cheek into your palm.

“Don't.” He murmurs, softly, softer than you’d heard him before. “Keep goin…please.”

A realisation settles across your mind.

“You…you can’t feel most touch…can you?” 

He doesn't look you in the eye, but he does sigh, only burying closer to your warm palm, worn after years of working hard…but still human.

“S’not that I can’t feel…I can…but..s’mtimes it’s so forkin dull I might as well not…but..my face is…”

“One of the few places you can feel.” You finish the sentence for him, feeling a pang of sympathy. You didn’t know how long Boothill had been like this, but you could wager long enough that he was more desperate for a kind touch than he probably even realised.

“Yeh…” he mutters, his lips turning down into a frown “sorry…ah know it’s probably-”

“Shut up.” you mutter, turning to face him fully, your other hand coming to rest on the other cheek as you watch this man, this gunslinging galaxy ranger, falter. His eyes widen before he shuts them entirely, leaning into it, starved of this type of affection.

“F’ya don’t stop this bullshirt m’gonna think you might have some feelin’s for me, darlin’..”

You didn’t know if thats what it was…but you didn’t want to stop either, a part of you wanting to sate you own selfish curiosity…another part wanting to do this for him.

“It must be a lonely existence, living like you do.” the murmur leaves your lips before you even notice you’d spoken out loud, thumbs stroking over his cheek bones. Boothill stares at you in silence for a long moment, his gaze calculating, probing. 

“I thought ya’ hated my forkin guts…” He mutters.

“Perhaps once, for a little bit, I did.” You admit “But then you brought me here, and I’ve never been happier..”

A beat passes, then another, and another. Boothill stares at you, the feel of your hands on his face something he wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

And then he leans forward, lips crash together and the taste of Malt juice and perhaps a little bit of oil is on your tongue.

You don’t pull back, if anything, you lean into it shamelessly. 

Robotic hands grip your waist as your own finally shift from his face to wrap around his shoulders. At some point his hat goes flying off elsewhere, but neither of you care; too strung tight, too wound up to care.

His teeth are as sharp as they look, but he’s careful with them as he nips at your bottom lip, swiping his tongue over the little beat of blood he manages to draw.

“Shirt-” He mutters against your lips, his eyes shut tight, you can hear his inner mechanics whirring, like a mechanical heart about to rabbit from his chest “fudge, if you don’t stop me now darlin I’m gonna keep taking-”

“Then take.” you mutter back at him, tangling your hands into his surprisingly silky hair and yanking. “Take what you want.”

“Oh trust me, I would but..” Boothill’s growl trails off, and for a moment he looks…embarrassed. You can’t for the life of you figure out why until he steps closer, your knee brushing between his legs- oh.

“Flat as a forkin’ brass tack.” he mumbles. 

You’re not sure why, it might just be the curse of your horrible humour, but your attempt at not giggling only sets you off into laughter that you attempt to muffle into his shoulder.

“Ey, watchu laughin at?” you expect boothill to be…mad at your outburst, but you can hear the amusement in his voice, feel the tremble of his own laughter “t’aint funny.”

“It kinda is.” you snicker out, pulling back to look him in the face. He looks a little sheepish, but thankfully, mostly just amused. “It’s okay…we’ll figure something out..”

His toothy grin settles back into a dangerous little smirk as the moment passes again, the kind of smirk that makes your belly twist a little. “Oh yeah, I got some other tricks up my sleeves.” 

Without much more to say, you find yourself being lifted, thrown over the cowboy’s shoulder- as you open your mouth to say something, you’re interrupted with a harsh slap to your ass, resulting in nothing but a squeak.

“Where’s yer room?” He snickers as you glare at him. 

You consider not telling him, being a brat, but the charming smile he returns to you is… yeah it does something stupid that goes right to your crotch. 

“Upstairs…first door on the left.” you mutter, flustering at the way his grin widens. 

If you didn’t know better you’d almost describe Boothill as practically skipping up the stairs, the angle for you however was a little trepidatious, and you find yourself clinging to him for a little more stability, right up until he carefully tosses you down onto the plush of your bed, landing with a soft thud.

He’s back on you, and your hands are back on him without him needing to ask; you can see the relief it brings, the way his eyelids flutter and his brow pinches as your fingers glide across his cheek, down his chest and along his arms, still warm, you note…

His lips return too, his own hands untucking your shirt just to get under it, metal fingers gliding over the smooth of your belly, up the your sides as he groans into your mouth. You wonder how much he can actually feel, if it was still dull, or if the alcohol had heightened his mechanical touch sensors somehow. You didn’t care, he looked happy, legitimately happy, like a dog being scratched behind the ears as you indulge him. 

His lips move from yours and he begins to nip and taste elsewhere, his nose brushing against your own as he leans in, nuzzling at your cheek, nipping at your jaw, revelling in the little sounds of pleasure he pulls out of you, especially when his wandering hands wrap behind your back and find the clasp of your bra, it comes undone with a surprisingly expert tug and you moan softly at it. 

(Who could blame you? You’d been wearing the damn thing all day.) 

You wished there was something you could do for him, something to pleasure him like he was doing for you, but you forced yourself to be content with touching him, running your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and tugging at the soft strands; running your thumbs over his cheeks, tracing the shells of his ears.

Boothill however, seemed just as hellbent on touching you, but he had far more room to move, to explore, to play. 

Metal thumbs find your nipples, embarrassingly hard and sensitive after being trapped in the confines of your bra all day, and you moan as he rolls them both, back and forth in a slow, methodical rhythm that leaves your breath light, and your stomach twisting in knots. 

Pointed teeth find your throat, nibbling and worshipping every inch of skin they could catch. You’d have to wear a scarf tomorrow if he kept that up, lest the regulars at the bar notice the strange bruising… but you don’t stop him; you were all in on…whatever this was now. 

A metal hand pulls away long enough to pop the buttons on your shirt, leaving the plane of your torso open and exposed to his gaze, nothing short of hungry as he stares down at you. 

“Fudge…” he mutters, his voice husky “That’s a nice view…” 

“Tease.” you huff.

“Tease? Oh ah’ll show you tease.” He snickers, his mouth returning to your skin, working lower, biting at the junction of neck and shoulder, nibbling along your collarbone before the cowboy shifts further, his tongue darting out to lap at one nipple whilst a hand works the other.

You gasp and moan, a hand quickly coming to muffle your cries, cheeks alight with embarrassment at the sudden outburst. Boothill only chuckles, his eyes trained to your face as he lays, settling between your legs as he rests atop you to continue his work, but at least he doesnt pull your hand away, too engrossed on what he could feel opposed to what he could see and hear. 

He switches breasts while his free hand trails down, over the soft plane of your belly and to your belt, unbuckling it with ease and sending the strap of leather flying across the room before those fingers return, popping the button of your work jeans and dragging the fly down. You groan softly in appreciation at the relief it brings, only to feel those metal fingers working the waistband down.

Just what was he planning? you wonder internally as he gives your nipple one last, harsh suck before releasing it, making you keen beneath your hand. 

“Feelin good, darlin?” he whispers. He sure sounded like he was feeling good as he nuzzles against your skin, nipping at your stomach and trailing lower, hands gripping at your jeans, pulling them and your underwear away in one swoop, leaving you open, exposed, and embarrassingly wet. “Y’sure look it..” he adds with a low whistle “aint that a sight.”

“B-boothill-” You mumble, an attempt at closing your legs out of embarrassment only sandwiching his head betwixt your thighs. He grins at you; it’s such an endearingly handsome thing, it makes you feel like this wasn’t a first time thing between you both, like he knew you, like he was comfortable with you, which only added to the heat in your belly.

“Aw don’t go gettin all fudgin’ coy on me now.” he snickers “After all those drinks’ ya’ gave me downstairs, I’m still kinda thirsty.” 

His metal hands part your measly human thighs with shameful ease as he leans in close; you squeal when you feel his hot tongue lave down your inner thigh, warm breath so achingly close to your cunt it was maddening.

But it seemed Boothill was just as desperate as you were, his mouth attaching to your cunt after only a moment, taking in your squeal as his teeth gently roll your clit, the added danger only serving to make you wetter. 

“F-fuck! Boothill-!” you moan out, forsaking keeping yourself silent as your own hands scramble across the sheets, searching for something, anything to ground yourself as his tongue laps at your folds with fever; they eventually find and settle in his hair before giving it a tug.

Boothill groans, the sting is only arbitrary, but he loves it, he loves being able to feel something. The warm plush of your thighs around his ears, the heat of your cunt as he sucks on your clit, only made sweeter by your cries. He’d missed this, he’d missed this a lot..

“Y’aint seen nothin’ yet, darlin.” He growls low and loving against your thigh in the brief moment of reprieve he gives you. You stare down at him with hooded eyes,your knees already trembling from his vicious onslaught; he nips the soft, sensitive flesh of your thigh with a cheeky smirk, holding up a pair of fingers, watching your face as he slowly drags them through your wet folds, collecting your slick; you gulp. “Like a’ said, I got a few fun lil’ tricks up my sleeves.” His mouth returns, lapping and pulling you right back into the overwhelming, wonderful pleasure as a slick metal finger circles your entrance, slow, methodical, torturous. You nearly sob with relief when he finally presses the digit inside, the metal actually making it easier. He hums his approval at how easily his finger is sucked in, pumping it slowly in and out, in and out; taking things at his pace- perfect.

After a little while, you feel that finger beginning to probe, to prod and search for your G-spot, and before long he finds it, signalled by a loud gasp and a sharp tug at his hair, only pulling his mouth closer, his tongue working away at your clit like he wasn’t driving you absolutely mad with pleasure.

Once he’d found the spot, he retreats, slowly adding the second finger and beginning the cycle again, stretching you, filling you stupidly well; it was an absolute tragedy that he didn’t have a dick…at this point you were so stupidly horny, you would have climbed on top of him just for a chance to ride him.

(somewhere in the back of your mind, the saying ‘save a horse, ride a cowboy’ reverberates) 

As you’re right at the height, right at the edge, he suddenly stops, his fingers cease their movements and he pulls his head away, resting his chin on your naval as he stares up at you with such a stupidly loving look that it makes your heart twist; his chin was absolutely drenched in your slick, but he looked so very content.

But you weren’t.

“B-boothillllll-” you whimper, tugging at his hair again, why had he stopped!? Now of all times? You could feel his metal fingers pressed against your G-spot, but unmoving, they did little to pleasure you. You clench around them, but that too, yields little results.

“Sorry sweetheart, just wanted to see your face when I did it.” He chuckles, his smile twitching up in the corner.

“D-do whAT-” your question cuts off abruptly when the fingers inside you suddenly burst to life with vibrations, the strength of which you’d never experienced before. Your body coils and you nearly scream as he rams those fingers into your G-spot, stars exploding behind your eyes whilst pleasure cuts through your belly like glass. 

“That.” He hums, satisfied as he returns that sinful mouth of his to your clit, adding another layer of pleasure. His fingers were harsh and rough, crooking into your G-spot one second, and then splaying out the next, dragging rough and harsh against your walls; his tongue however was soft, gentle, slowly and carefully rolling circles around your poor little nub. You were going to go crazy, he was going to drive you insane and you were absolutely letting him. Your body reacts on its own, thighs squeezing hard around his head, spine arched upward; your hips prevented from bucking thanks to one of his arms, wrapped solidly around your thigh and holding you down to the sheets, forcing you to lay there and take it.

You knew the walls here were decently soundproof, but even you began to question if they could muffle out your cries, made worse when Boothill suddenly sits up, pulling you up along with him, practically folding you in half as he continues to feast on your pussy like he hadn’t eaten in centuries, his vibrating fingers plunging somehow deeper.

At first you struggle for air with the new position, your knees almost at your chest, but then he switches the angle of his fingers and aeons-, you didn’t think it could get worse than this. But the pleasure this new angle brings, it’s new, its terrifying and you don’t quite know how to articulate that to the galaxy ranger causing it all. Your hands scramble clawing and tugging at any part of him you could get ahold of, his name falling from your lips along with incoherent babble, desperation and worry all balling into one feeling you couldn’t describe as he continues to piston those fingers into you, hitting your G-spot with such accuracy, the flame in your gut turning from a high heat to a near-volcanic overload as you jerk and struggle.

The final straw is when you crack open an eye, catching sight of him, staring back at you with such…love, such unbridled affection.

You scream his name as you cum, harder than you’ve ever cum in your life. Your faintly feel yourself make an absolute mess of his face, arms, your back and the sheets below you as your world turns white.

–

A soft, damp cloth carefully rubbing over your skin slowly pulls you back into reality, rousing you from the soft and gauzy subspace of post-orgasmic bliss. You try to shift, to sit up…to…something- but a hand carefully manoeuvres you to lay back down on a thankfully, dry patch of sheets.

“Easy, darlin’” Boothill’s familiar southern drawl hushes you down “Nearly done.”

You crack an eye to find him carefully cleaning you off with said damp towel. Methodical but careful. You’re trembling from the exertion, but boothill looks absolutely fine, the bastard. 

In fact, he looks better than fine. A smile plastered on his stupid face as he works away, wiping sweat and other…fluids, off of you. 

When he was done with that, he wraps you in a clean sheet and lifts you, sitting you down on the trunk at the end of your bed, just so he could change the set you’d obliterated with your unexpectedly rough orgasm. You sit there, watching him, half asleep and pleasantly dozy before he pulls you back into bed, pulling you into his side. A glass of water is pressed against your lips as he encourages a few sips into you. 

You spend the night sleeping with him curled around you; the quiet whirr of his mechanical body providing a pleasing, soft white noise while hands stroke through your hair.

–

“Do you have to go so soon?” You ask as he reaches for his hat.

He’d been here a week, and it had been…for lack of a better word; wonderful. 

But all good things had to come to an end you supposed. The look on his face was enough to tell you what you didn’t want to hear.

“I gotta. I ain’t done yet.” He tells you quietly, despite this, he holds out a hand, a silent request for you to walk with him…the inn and the bar would be fine for a little while.

“I’d ask ya t’come with me, but that’d be the biggest forkin mistake I could ever make.” the cowboy admits. He wanted you to, he’d never felt so content as he had in this week, but bringing you meant putting you in danger…aeons know he’d done that enough already.

“Will you…at least come and visit me?” 

Boothill snorts as they meander their way towards his ship “O’course I will.”

“How often?”

“S’often as I forkin can.” 

You both stop beside the ship, it had a few more dings and dents than you remember, but it was still in surprisingly good condition.

“Well…” you mumble “at least you know you’ll always have a room at the inn while I still run it.”

“Y’mean yer’ room?” He snickers. “I forkin hope you intend on running the place as long as possible, I pulled in a good favor from jodie to get ya yer’ start ‘ere.”

You smile at him. Boothill thanks every aeon in existence that his cybernetic eyes had a camera function, so he could save that face and look back on it when he was drifting through the universe.

Slowly, he pulls his hat from his head, holding it to his chest as he leans down to press his lips to yours, one last time for the road.

“I’ll be back as soon and as often as I forkin can…y’hear?” He murmurs, you nod; fighting away the sting behind your eyes as you step back.

“I hear…and…Boothill?” you ask as he turns around to step onto his ship, looking at you over his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

Taglist: @stygianoir @meimeimeirin @ainescribe @dustofthedailylife @rjssierjrie @crystalflygeo @angel-of-requiem @asoulsreverie @zomzomb1e @moraxsthrone @mysnowmanandmebaby @inlustris-is-slowly-dying @pvbbyb0y Want to be added to the list? shoot me an ask~

[garagepaperback]

thrall Even the moan is serrated, ripped clean out instead of offered up.

Harry’s always wanted to hurt Malfoy and also not, and here, with his fist tightening around the pearled dash of his throat, he can. Malfoy writhes under him and the line of his body is the same wrong symmetry - weak, strong. Fighting off, giving in.

Because he’s always been mostly racket, Malfoy moans again, low and strangled and Harry covers his mouth. The hot trap of his voice seethes against Harry's palm; he pushes down harder. He's got a vicious grip on Malfoy’s wrist with his other hand and pulls it, an odd bend and another caught sound. Along the crooked stretch of Malfoy's neck, he isn’t kissing, it just involves the same desiccated parts - a love bite with the douse of affection permanently removed. It's the same for the covetous hands and the greedy hips and being inside him without the slightest semblance of union. They're parallel lines, more so, connected only at a splintering, where something’s knocked someone off course or one of them is otherwise fractured.

Even under Harry’s hands Malfoy won’t stop moving, won’t stop trying to claim up the air with noise. He's so fucking greedy; there's another guttered gasp like a boot-press to the chest. It's been at least ten minutes since he opened his eyes, so, still a loud coward, too.

Skimming his teeth over the wildest point of the arch, Harry moves down Malfoy's neck and Malfoy keeps begging, wet on Harry’s palm with a whimper, a leaked cry made in the lowest hollow of his chest. Maybe lungs, maybe not made at all but definitely taken. Stolen, Malfoy would say, if Harry would let him talk.

“Shh," And then when he doesn't, "shut the fuck up." Harry tightens his grip, fingernails biting into Malfoy's cheek. He doesn’t want to risk the bare spill of vowels eventually finding each other, coming out a whole word. Talking isn't part of it.

That’s how the whole thing started. They worked together, they were older, it should have been settled, but speaking to him brought everything back. Harry understands that isn't exactly fair and then that makes him furious, because he was fair and it took the particular gittishness of Malfoy and Malfoy only to drag Harry out of resolution.

The clamor of feeling showed up heavy and constant: in the lifts, at meetings, Malfoy across a pub laughing, Malfoy fussy with his tea, lofty shoulders hunched over the low counter in the break room. Mostly, he didn't deserve to have moved on. Harry wanted to loot the propagation and find everything that hadn't, to catalogue the flourish and failure. He needs the war to not only have meant something but to mean everything; Malfoy holds the equation and the problem solved. If Malfoy could come out of it changed and be truly moral, with either the virtue dug out from some deep well or built brand new, then it could all have been worth it. Be worth something.

And, the antithetical: he shouldn't be allowed the priviledge of progress. A visceral reminder that the world is riddled with pain, suffering, cruelty, that people inflict that on each other - Malfoy stands for that, because he had stood for it. Harry wanted him punished, redeemed, good all along, evil all along. A symbol and a flawed, living thing. It doesn't make sense, but with Malfoy below him, it almost - like this, it lives on the chasm of a knife, nearly both, almost real.

for day 29 of @microficmay

[here-comes-the-moose]

Modern Bad Batch at the Airport/on a Flight

Inspired by the fact that I’ve been flying a lot recently with and without my family, here are some Bad Batch Headcanons of how I think they’d be like.

Hunter

The passenger princess of air travel. Has no idea what time they board, barely knows where they’re going. Only job is to sit there and look pretty.

Actually I lied his other job is constantly fussing over Crosshair.

Constantly gets snapped at by Crosshair for this.

Does not let this deter him from fussing, hovering around Crosshair, and even following him to the bathroom.

Given a number from at least one person on the plane.

His siblings are just glad he remembered his ID and/or passport, since he forgot it one time and had needed to go home and come back to the airport, which had stressed everyone out to no end. He has not lived this down.

Passes out the second his ass is in his seat and will stay asleep the whole time, but somehow has a sixth sense when it comes to one of his sibling’s needing him and will immediately jolt awake and spring into action.

Wrecker

Orders ginger ale on the plane because he LIVES for the ginger ale biscoff cookie/pretzel combo.

Will only sit in the aisle seat because he does not like to look out the window (fear of heights).

Super chill and is the one who keeps the others from killing each other and/or getting pulled aside by TSA.

Sharing snacks with Omega and Hunter.

Not as intense as Hunter, but regularly checks in on Crosshair. Will get snapped at a little bit.

Always watches rom-coms on flights, it’s his routine. He cries every time, but doesn’t really feel embarrassed by it because once they see that he’s watching The Notebook they’re like “understandable sir have a nice day”.

Falls asleep half an hour before the flight ends, every time without fail.

Tech

Has all the boarding passes and knows their gate number and seats from memory.

Made them leave extremely early and still pissed at Hunter for making them leave behind schedule.

In charge of the itinerary.

Loves the window seat since he enjoys looking out the window as he listens to music or a podcast, but also likes to point things out to Omega, since she loves when he does so.

Also checking on Crosshair, but more through observation than outright asking him. Has disappeared and gotten Crosshair something he needs to feel a bit better before wordlessly giving it to his twin. This form of care is much appreciated by Crosshair.

Loves to shop in the airport. He’s a fan of the cute knickknacks, books, and the duty free section as a whole. May or may not be buying something for Phee.

Crosshair

Hates airports and air travel, so he’s miserable the whole time.

Very irritable and short-tempered because of this, but his siblings let it slide since he’s not feeling great.

Ordering a ginger ale on the flight, but because he gets sick not because he likes it.

Needs to sit in the window seat. He wants the privacy if he starts feeling too sick but also looking outside helps him a bit.

Spends most of the flight napping or at least trying to nap. Either way, he’s resting his head on Echo’s shoulder most of the time.

Not that anyone enjoys it, but he hates when they’re hit with turbulence. He’s gripping his armrests (and Echo), he’s scared, he’s nauseous, he’s dizzy and headachey, overall he’s just not having a good time. Spends the whole time there’s turbulence praying, even though he’s not religious.

Echo

Hates and dreads going through TSA.

Pretty chill after it’s over though.

Has a bag (affectionately referred to as “the diaper bag”) that has EVERYTHING in it. Tons of snacks, OTC medicine for basically an anything you can or can’t think of, hand sanitizer, two types of wipes, ear plugs, eye masks, you name it.

Also fussing over Crosshair, but not as much as Hunter since he knows when to just give Crosshair his space to sulk.

Crosshair usually seeks him out for comfort because of this.

Doesn’t care much about where he sits as long as he has the most room available for his prosthetics.

Usually sits next to Crosshair on the plane, since by the time they board Hunter has made Crosshair ban him from occupying the seat next to him.

Hunter is usually on the other side of him.

Omega

Just having a good time.

Tech explains a lot of the technical things to her and she finds it so cool.

Loves takeoff and landing; thinks they’re so fun.

Spends most of the flight watching movies and eating snacks.

Even though she’s having a good time, she’s still worried about Crosshair and always tries to help and/or do something nice for him. The only one who can get away with this without him getting irritated for the most part, but even if he does get irritated it’s just for a second and very mild.

Sharing her snacks with Wrecker and passes some to Hunter as well across the aisle.

Always says thank you to the pilot and flight attendants. Chats with the pilots if she’s given the chance and they always love her and her questions. One time early on into living with the batch and traveling with them she very bluntly said to the pilot “thank you for not making my brother throw up”. Crosshair was mortified but the pilot laughed and thanked her for the compliment.

[buddierecs]

secret relationship buddie fics

all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

i found love where it wasn't supposed to be (right in front of me) by: finduilas "it’s such a long time coming and still it takes buck by surprise. It takes him by surprise even though he is the one that leans in and finally kisses eddie. his second surprise is that eddie doesn’t push him away, doesn’t even look at him with confusion. or worse, rage. no, eddie kisses him back like buck is a tall drink of water and eddie is severely dehydrated. buck knows the feeling" word count: 13k important tags: anal sex, versatile buddie, getting caught, accidental clothes sharing oh, my dream (never quite as it seems) by: woodchoc_magnum "in which buck and eddie are trying out a friends-with-benefits thing (that's rapidly turning into more) when the world comes crashing down on them. as buck hovers somewhere between life and death, eddie has to deal with their friends, family and the buckley parents." word count: 44k important tags: friends with benefits, whump, season six, sperm donor arc, coma, fluff and smut, bottom!eddie diaz

ours to keep by: brewrosemilk 'buck and eddie pass their single, shared brain-cell back and forth, trying to keep their relationship a secret." word count: 8.9k important tags: blow jobs, porn with feelings, pov alternating, pov outsider, crack treated seriously sideways (incomplete series) by: buddiefanrpnj "what was it buck said to him that night… "you don't need to pretend with me." well, eddie is fucking done pretending. aka eddie makes his choice … this story starts at the end of red flag, 6x9" word count: 325k important tags: pining, love confessions, major character injury, first times, oral sex, rimming, demisexual!eddie diaz my hands are shaking from holding back by: barnesbegin "buck refuses to believe friends look at each other the way he and eddie do. however, eddie is dating ana flores. so buck just gives him space and hopes eddie will come to his senses soon. but after a heated fight between the two, where a confession is unintentionally made, things take a turn." word count: 84k important tags: pining, slow burn, eventual smut, eddie diaz is in denial the kids had sex, chim. by: whiskis "buck and eddie's extra activities got buck's voice all fucked up (pun intended)." word count: 5.3k important tags: oral sex, face-fucking, coming untouched, idiots in love, light dom/sub race to the sun (rest when it's over) by: honestlydarkprincess "buck challenges eddie and eddie takes said challenge. It causes their relationship to be revealed in a rather unique way." word count: 3.5k important tags: come slut!evan buckley, multiple orgasms, manhandling, marking, sir kink, possessive sex, dom!eddie diaz, sub!evan buckley, strength kink loose threads by: daises_and_briars "new to dating and keeping it quiet, buck and eddie get a little carried away on a slower shift at the firehouse. but when the alarm eventually sounds, a spur of the moment mistake leaves them a little mixed up." word count: 3.7k important tags: swapped clothes, blowjobs, pranks a phone call in late december by: brewsrosemilk “i’m so fucking cold without you,” he admits, then - and he’s not only speaking metaphorically; the snow storm is raging outside, screaming around the corners of the house; the room is drafty, and somehow despite the sweat gathering at the base of his spine and his neck - he feels cold. he wants eddie. That’s all he wants. - "me too,” eddie hums, though - immediately soothing the anxiety. “never again. never again, i promise,” he sighs" word count: 4.3k important tags: phone sex, fluff and smut

romance is not dead if you keep it just yours by: weasleyworks "basically eddie and buck are in a relationship but have only told christopher." word count: 3.6k important tags: morning sex, kinda secret relationship, idiots in love your laugh (echoes down the hallway) by princessfbi "the long awaited jeep sex fic" word count: 5.5k important tags jeep (car) sex, semi-public sex, rough sex, blow jobs, praise kink, secret relationship.

and no one knows what goes on behind closed doors by: starlingbite "none of the team knows that after a long shift, when christopher is still at school, eddie follows buck across town to the loft. they don’t know that as soon as the front door is closed behind them eddie pushes buck against it and presses their lips together." word count: 4.6k important tags: plot what plot, anal sex, cock warming, top!eddie diaz, bottom!evan buckley, barebacking

general audience rated secret relationship fics

[im-not-corrupted]

A short DBD fic about grief and mourning and dealing with loss after Niko's death.

------

He’s never had to grieve, not for anybody other than himself.

Even when it came to himself, he didn’t have much chance to do so. He was alive and then he died and then he was in Hell. There wasn’t much room for grief in Hell; there was only pain and terror that found its roots so deep he sometimes thinks he’ll never rid himself of it. Each time they close a case, aid some other ghost into taking Death’s hand, that fear takes him again.

I don’t want to go back, Edwin thinks each time, desperate to get as far away as he can. Who he pleads to, he doesn’t know. Death herself, perhaps, or some other force of the universe. Don’t send me back.

The fear has been easier to manage these days. Mostly, this is a product of Charles’s presence in his life. He will not go back because he will evade Death’s eyes and Charles will evade her too, and they are together.

They will be together. Will be for the rest of their afterlives, as Charles says to him.

It helps. He still gets that fear, that instinctual reaction that grips him when the air shifts and he can hear the beating of wings, distant but coming steadily closer. But then Charles is there and they are running and it is enough to shake that fear away.

But he has never had to grieve, is the point. When he was alive, his family were wealthy and did not have to deal with the horrors of his day as those who were…less well off had. His family were healthy, and then he was dead and his only friend after spending seventy three years in hell was Charles, and Charles has been dead since they met. (And when he realised he would be unable to return to the life he had after escaping Hell, well, it didn’t matter. He never had the greatest relationship with his family, and he found Charles almost immediately. It soothed whatever grief he felt to know he had somebody, that he was no longer alone.)

It is not the same now. Now, they know people who are alive.

At least, they know Crystal. And they knew Niko, who is no longer alive.

Hence the grief.

Edwin has not had somebody die in defence of him before. He never even considered the idea that somebody would go to such lengths for him; never wanted it. This didn’t matter, for Niko still died attempting to save him from the witch’s torture device, and now she is gone.

And without her, he is left feeling…hollow. There are feelings there, sorrow at the loss and anger at the circumstances, but they seem to be locked away.

He only really feels them when he considers finding Niko so she might expose him to more modern-day pop culture, or so they might simply spend time in one another’s company. Truthfully, he never considered the idea that he might enjoy the company of somebody who is alive—he and Crystal did not get along well initially, though Edwin is wise enough to be able to admit that this was due to no fault of here but rather a product of his aversion to change—but those moments spent with Niko were precious to him.

They remain so now, treasured memories he stores away so he does not have to look at them too closely. Yet they continue to haunt him and sometimes, when his mind drifts, he forgets, and it aches.

This is one of those moments. He stands, triumph making his day just that little bit brighter after solving a particularly difficult case, and he says, “I shall go and find N—“

And then he freezes. Her name is on the tip of his tongue but he holds it back with barely-there self control and thinks that if he had a body capable of sustaining injury then there would be an open wound over his chest and he would bleed out all over the lovely wooden floors of the Dead Boy Detectives Agency.

There is no blood. Of course there is not. He is dead, and ghosts do not bleed. They do not even have bodies, not in the real sense of the world.

As it turns out, being unable to feel the pages of another book between his fingers as he researches for one of their cases, of being unable to feel the warmth of Charles’s palms when he places them upon Edwin’s shoulders, does not make it impossible for him to feel the way the unfinished sentence stabs into his chest. It freezes him in place and his eyes sting with what suspiciously feels like tears, and he clenches his hands into fists in an effort to keep it at bay.

Before him, Charles’s lips draw tight. His eyes shine with sorrow of his own. Edwin wishes suddenly that he had not slipped up and made such an awful, easy mistake, if only because it hurts a part of him to see his friend in such pain.

“I miss her,” Charles says. The words are terribly soft. It buries the knife in his chest only deeper. “It’s okay if you do too.”

Charles has only ever been kind with him, despite Edwin’s own reticence and tendency to take charge, and he appreciates that a great deal more than he believes himself capable of expressing out loud. Here and now, though, he wishes that tenderness was not there. It makes it too easy to notice the absence that seems to follow them around that should fit Niko, to notice the tide rising up inside him, ready to drown him.

He does miss her. He misses being able to walk into her room above Jenny’s butcher shop and having her show him TV shows she enjoyed. It was never about what they did together, he simply…enjoyed being in her company, in a way he cannot recall having with anybody but Charles.

It was different than that, but similar enough. He enjoyed her company. He wishes their friendship was not so brutally cut short.

Edwin has always believed silence speaks for itself and this theory proves true now, for Charles rises from the chair he sits in and places a hand on his shoulder. They are ghosts and cannot feel such touches, but sometimes he fools himself into believing he can feel the warmth of his friend’s hand through his blazer and shirt.

Wishful thinking, always. But it does not hurt, and so he makes no effort to stop himself, not as he does with the other far more dangerous things he tends to imagine when his brain wanders more than he would typically allow. (His feelings for Charles are out in the open now, yet still he fears them sometimes. They have yet to talk about it properly, and the questioning is…driving him a little bit insane, but he won’t push. It is a miracle Charles continues to tolerate him now that he knows.)

“You don’t have to talk about it now,” his oldest, dearest friend tells him. It is honest, and Edwin is glad for it. “But I’m here if you ever want to.”

He nods stiffly, the best he can manage. There’s a tangle of feelings in his chest and they seem far too difficult to make sense of, and talking of them seems impossible, like tearing open barely healed wounds to bleed out all over again.

“I will…keep that in mind,” he says, and hopes his tone conveys his appreciation even if his words do not. “Thank you, Charles.”

“Anytime, mate. I mean that.”

The truth of those words ache. Charles went to Hell for him. There is very little he would not do, and that Edwin believes wholeheartedly. He does not know what to do with it all.

So for now, he does not. There is nothing he can do here and now, anyway.

He steps from Charles’s reach, immediately missing the phantom warmth. “I will find something to read,” he declares, and Charles nods.

He misses Niko. She would know what to say about this, or would help him somehow.

He has not had to miss somebody before, not like this. He hopes, perhaps foolishly, that it will get easier with time.

[thesharktanksdriver]

Omg I’m having so many thoughts about the newer stuff of one piece.

These are all jumbled thoughts I came up with recently so it’s unstructured and probably doesn’t make any sense but fuck it

Masterlist for Determiation!

Spoilers for egghead

Determination! Y/n and the seraphim’s would be so god damn interesting like yall won’t believe the sheer amount of ideas running through my head.

Like y/n accidentally running into the Seraphim’s in Egghead after getting separated from the straw hats and absolutely going still when they see S-String(I shall call him that since they’d yet to reveal his designation) and absolutely going into a blind haze where they apologize to him not realizing he’s not Doffy (or at least the Doffy that they feel like they failed).

And it’s there that their dragged to meet the other Seraphim’s

Maybe it was programmed into them to find and retrieve y/n, maybe even protect them.

So the young lunarian children linger by y/n’s side and naturally become curious. Because how can they not be? Especially when all their lives so far had been carried out in a lab, born from artificial wombs that fashioned them of DNA stolen from various people and a species long dead and forgotten.

How can they not be curious when this person they were ordered to retrieve and protect knew of who they were cloned of. Knew more about them than they did themselves outside their programming.

So the children ask questions and they learn

Maybe S-Snake asks about her “mother”, being the only girl had always been a bit lonely for her even when her “brothers” had done their best to make sure she knows she’s accepted. So she wonders about Boa, and how she had come from an island full of women. What was that like? Would they still brush her hair like S-Bear does? Or pat her head for doing a good job like S-Shark did?. She asks about if she was as pretty as Boa, if she was good enough for her “mother” if they ever would meet, a bit of insecurity for the first time curling up in her stomach before y/n says that Boa would love her no matter what, accept her no matter what. Because Boa would never turn down a woman in need, let alone a little girl that was imprisoned such as she was. In that sense she finds a comfort in you, especially as you indulge in things her brothers would usually sigh at but agree to anyways. Without a hassle you let her do little shows where she shows off her fire or make small drawings with the limited art supplies they have. When S-Snake draws you with her and the other Seraphim your heart squeezes ever so slightly.

Maybe S-Hawk has y/n teach him the techniques that Mihawk had taught them when on his island. In a sense he’s curious of his “father” but hides it away as he’d rather die than openly admit the gnawing questions in his mind. When y/n lets him use the blade gifted by Mihawk he can’t help but instinctively rub his thumb over the hilt where the greatest swordsman initials lay carved, a smile also instinctively crawling up the clones face. When his “siblings” become too much and he wants peace and quiet y/n lingers by his side, a silent company that he appreciates as memories not of his own of similar occasions plague his mind. He usually doesn’t enjoy these influx of memories but these ones are peaceful, not filled in bloodshed but instead of a small garden full of ripe fruits he doesn’t know the names of as well as the times in which he narrowly helps them escape an accidental death that may or may not leave S-Hawk on his toes and leads to his presence lingering by your side.

S-Shark notices that y/n seems the most comfortable with him though he knows it makes sense since they’re apart of the crew his progenitor joined. He doesn’t know how to feel about Jinbe, but he does retain a certain sense of respect for him even before he learns more about the fishman and how much he fought for his people. Much like the others he has a sense of curiosity of the world but his is specifically towards the sea, moreso a place where gilled people and pretty women with fish tails lived. That placed seemed so different compared to egghead, more lively and colourful in a way he can’t describe. He cherishes those memories no matter how hazy and unfocused they are, so seeing y/n show him the brightly coloured shells and small bits of coral really make his day. S-Shark knows he can’t go in the ocean on account of the green blood he possesses but he can’t help but wonder. Y/n occasionally clings to him in a way that feels natural, and it’s almost second nature that when this happens he lets them do so without complaint.

S-Bear even before using his ability feels pin roll off you in waves he couldn’t quite comprehend, as if your small body similar to their own could not contain the amount of emotional and physical agony, it cracks and spills from the seems of you that have been restitched and reattached like a doll. It’s scary, but somehow the most terrifying thing is that you retain a smile despite it all. It doesn’t affect you outwardly and maybe even inwardly at most times but it’s there and it lingers around you like an ever-present rain cloud about to burst into a storm. It saddens him, and it reminds him of memories of a pink haired girl he cannot place the name of. Too young to experience such heartache and at the same time her eyes are old and withered from everything that had happened. A child who acts older than their real age because they have to, not because they want to.

S-String notices that there’s a certain kind of Resigned sadness and almost a sense of hope with y/n’a eyes, yet they can never look at him fully without flinching. It confuses him, especially since despite that they treat him with such kindness even when he purposefully acts out or teases the others or them. S-String does not get as many memories compared to the others, most of which are locked away and repressed for some reason but what he does somewhat remember from his “father” is blissful moments of childhood with a boy he cannot name and y/n. This leaves him more confused, these were happy memories yet why do they look at him (and by extension his “father” with such sadness?). So at some point he asks And it’s there that S-String comes to dislike the man that made up his genetic makeup. Because for as much as the others got on his nerves sometimes S-Flamingo loved his “family”, loved his “Sister” and “Brothers” more than he’d like to admit. So hearing that the man he was cloned after harmed his family, and harmed the only person in their lives that had shown him and his siblings any sense of normalcy struck him. That man is the reason why they can’t properly look him in the eye both out of fear and a sense of failure, that man is a reason for their overwhelming pain that night even S-Bear cant comprehend, that man is the reason they broke down when they first saw him and kept apologizing for failing him. S-Stribg isn’t sure as to what happened to you and his predecessor but S-String knows you had not failed him nor his siblings, and he has a feeling you hadn’t failed Doflaimgo but rather he failed you.

S-Sand feels towards y/n a more than ordinary sense of curiosity that plagues his mind. Something he feels is a lingering emotion from his progenitor as he quietly watches and listens to you. It’s odd to him the flippant attitude towards death, something he’s pondered about as the dried out bodies of those who tried to enter egghead lay on the ground. He understands that your immortal, death isn’t much of a good deal to you yet you regard it in such a way that it bothers him. Why do you not seem to care when you tell a story of being ripped from limb to limb or left to bleed out. Surely that’s not something that was fun to experience let alone all the other instances in which you’d died via starvation on the sea or dehydration. Those things hurt, and in that regard you must be hurting all the time if not physically then mentally. Because of that like Mihawk he lingers, first due to curiosity and then out of a certain protectiveness that feel much less like programming and real. When on a mission they feel nothing, more in an empty minded state rather than truly conscious. They don’t feel fear let alone worry but for you he does, and he’s slowly seeing the others feel it too.

S-shadow just finds y/n to be cool’s ngl lol (I don’t know much about Moria so I don’t know how to write for him let alone his seraphim)

Maybe at some point y/n promises them that they’ll one day be free of orders that circulate in their heads

Free to use their wings in a real sky that’s not simulated

And maybe the Seraphim feel a spark of something at those words in their souls

The young lunarian children never thought that they had souls, had the to privilege to posses one when they were clones with no free will, remakes of others who were real people and could make decisions themselves.

But suddenly they find the words of a promise resonate within them, staying there in Suddenly full chests that should just have had it echo due to their emptiness. But the promise stays

And they silently dream of that promise

A place where they could be free

A place where they weren’t poked and prodded at

A place where they could call each other by “brother” and “sister” in full confidence

A place where they may choose their own names

A place where they could experience this idea of “family” that they often pondered about from memories not their own

A place where y/n would teach them all they’d need to know about the world before they’d one day take it by storm

A place where they’d make safe for both themselves and the person they found wanting to protect even without the orders issued by the pacifista

[rxnn]

Bleeding Heart [six]

warnings! tooth rotting fluff cause i wanna, mentions of stalking, mention of a gun for like 2 sentences at the very beginning (it isn't used and no one is hurt)

one, two, three, four, five

❥❥❥

...one week later

Banging at his door made Jason jump, setting his well-loved book to the side and reaching for the .45 taped to the bottom of the coffee table. It was one of many he had hidden throughout his apartment, a safety hazard, he claimed.

“Jason!” A familiar voice called through the door. “Sorry to bother you but it’s important!”

He was up in an instant, forgetting the gun, and scrambling to get to the door. As soon as his hand was on the handle, he almost ripped the door off its hinges.

“Hey,” he said, breathless, praying she didn’t hear him almost trip over his discarded boots to get to the door as quickly as possible. 

Shit.

He cleared his throat. “Everything okay?”

Everything was most definitely not okay.

Leia’s hair was messily pulled away from her face, her eyes were wide and quickly becoming glassy, her hands wrung themselves out as she looked up at him.

His mind drifted as she rambled on, he caught every other word, but not the full thing. How could he when tears were collecting in her eyes, a silent plea as her lips trembled slightly. He wondered if she would look at him the same way as he –

“So can you come over?”

“What?” His ears were on fire, they had to be.

“Can you watch Cal for a few hours? I didn’t plan on getting called in today, people just didn’t show up. I promise it won’t be long, I’ll get back as soon as I can. I just –”

“I don’t mind.” Jason interrupted her, shoving down any and all thoughts that were less than appropriate for the situation at hand.

Maybe one day – no.

The woman in front of him visibly deflated, shoulders sagging. She leaned against his doorframe, looking up at him again with her pretty smile.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

Jason’s heart skipped and he smiled down at her, heart feeling like it could burst. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

Her mouth opened and closed and she cleared her throat, neither of which Jason missed, a smug sense of pride filling him. “I’ve already got dinner made, feel free to have some. Just…please make sure Cal doesn’t hurt himself.”

Jason hummed, nodding. Easy enough.

Leia pushed off the door frame and walked toward her apartment. He snatched up his keys and locked his door before following her. 

“I really can’t thank you enough for this.”

“It’s not a problem. Callum’s a good kid and you need help.”

“You promise? What about your night shift you were telling me about a few days ago? The one that got you that bruise?”

Jason stiffened for a second. It was a half-truth he’d told her when she saw the large bruise on his cheek bone. With his quick healing (thank you Lazarus Pit), he hoped it would be gone by the time it was time to pick up Callum from the bus stop, but Leia had been off work that day and spotted him leaving in his civilian clothes as she came back from dropping Callum off. She had told Jason to stay put and she ran into her apartment and came back with frozen peas wrapped in a hand towel. She had offered it to him without a second thought and he took it, exhausted and sore from the night prior. Maybe it was because it came from her, maybe he was in more pain than he thought, but he sighed in relief when the pain evaporated. 

“You have to take care of yourself.” She had said, hands on her hips, scolding him. He wondered if she would say the same thing to him if he came home to her every night, if she would take care of him into the early hours of the morning like she had when he’d accidentally stumbled into her room. “How did you get that anyway?”

“I’m a bouncer.” He’d blurted out the first thing that came to mind. To his surprise, Leia just nodded in understanding. 

“Makes sense.” She shrugged then grinned teasingly at him. “Bet the other guy looks worse, huh?”

Jason had laughed, peas still pressed to his cheek. It had hurt to smile, but it was worth it.

“Jay? You coming?”

His heart caught in his throat at the nickname. It wasn’t the first time she’d called him that and he prayed it wouldn’t be the last. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” A cheesy grin plastered on his face, wondering if she’d call him on the nicknames. She didn’t. She shifted on her feet again, holding the door open for him so he could walk in behind her. 

He glanced around, taking in the space. Most of the walls seemed bare with a few boxes stacked in the corner. The walls that were decorated were full of photos of the small family, much like Leia’s room, and two large shelves that housed a few trinkets and books with worn spines. The remnants of Leia’s cooking hang in the air along with the faint scent of her perfume he’d come to adore.

The overall layout was similar to his apartment if not smaller which made him feel incredibly guilty. There were a few stuffed animals and toys scattered across the floor, a coat hanging over one of the chairs at the small table, and a few dishes in the sink, proof of Leia’s hard work.

The soft padding of feet brought him back to reality as he closed the door behind him, 

“Mr. Jason!”

A little body collided with his legs, small arms wrapping around him.

“Callum, honey, lets not overwhelm–”

“It’s okay,” he waved her off and shut the door behind him then crouched in front of the boy who grinned and waved. “Hey, little man. Mama has to go to work, so why don’t you give her a hug before she has to head out?”

Callum spun on his heel and hugged his mother who was smiling fondly at the two. Jason had never seen that smile before. A type of melancholy sweetness he’d never thought existed until now. She picked Callum up, hugging him close and kissed his nose. The boy giggled and wrapped his small arms around her neck. 

It was so domestic, a life Jason thought died in the warehouse. A normalcy that he would never be able to grasp. Now, he watched it stand in front of him and giggle at each other. 

“Go get your stuff and head out. I’ve got this one.” He risked reaching out and gently squeezed her arm, her skin warm and soft under his calloused hands. She let him and nodded, pressing one more kiss on Callum’s head before sitting him down. 

“You be good for Jason, okay?” Leia held out her pinky finger, a faux serious look on her face.

“Pinky promise!” Callum wrapped his much smaller pinky around his mother’s and shook it side to side. 

Leia nodded then gestured toward the kitchen counter where a dish was covered in plastic wrap. “Sorry about the mess, but feel free to have as much as you want.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She chuckled and shook her head before walking toward what he assumed was her bedroom.

Callum took Jason’s hand (the boy’s hands were only able to grab two of his fingers) and tugged him toward the couch where a plethora of legos were scattered across the worn rug. Most times, Jason had no clue how to act around kids, but after the short walks and small meets in the hallway, it became as easy as breathing. 

“What are you working on?” Jason sat on the couch, leaning forward to peer down at the small lego pieces (and make himself not look as intimidating, not that that ever mattered to Callum).

“It’s Star Wars.” Callum responded. “Can you help me do the…” he pointed at the small booklet with the instructions.

Jason chuckled, picking up the small booklet. “Was Mama helping you?”

Callum nodded, picking up two pieces and fiddling with them. “Yeah, but her phone told her she had to go to work…I don’t want her to go.”

“She’ll be back before you wake up tomorrow.” Jason tried to assure the kid.

Leia watched the two from around the corner, heart warming at the sight before her phone went off again, bringing the boy's attention over to her. She texted back, saying she was headed that way and walked over to stand beside Jason, placing a hand on his arm. Electricity shot up his arm from her palm.

“Love you, Mama!” Callum waved.

“I love you too, baby.” She turned to Jason. “Bed time is in an hour. I put his pajamas on his bed, Callum knows his routine. If something happens, you have my number.”

Jason nodded once. If she was paying more attention, Leia would have noticed how he looked at her, the silhouettes of hearts dancing around his dilated pupils. 

“Have fun!” He called over as she left, her responding laugh music to his ears.

“Be good you two!” 

And just like that, she shut the door behind her, her quick footsteps fading down the hall. When he could no longer hear her, Jason turned back to Callum who was fiddling with the corner of the rug, frowning as he looked at the shut door.

“Why don’t we see how much of this we can get done, yeah?” Jason tapped Callum’s head with the instructions. 

The boy’s face changed immediately, grinning widely as Jason pointed out the next few steps, handing him the small pieces he needed. This went on for a while, Jason moving to sit on the floor crisscross so he could reach all the pieces easier. Honestly, it was harder than it looked. With Jason’s bigger hands it was harder to maneuver some of the pieces correctly and more than once Jason thought about throwing the instructions out the window but decided that wasn’t setting a good example for Callum.

The incessant ringing of Jason's phone broke the moment and he frowned, rolling his eyes at the name that appeared and declined it.

They'd be fine without him for one night. Plus, Jason deserved a night off.

The ringing picked up again and Jason groaned, grabbing his phone and standing.

"Sorry, kid, this guy is gonna bother me till I answer. I'll be right back."

Callum nodded; face scrunched up as he focused on finding the pieces for his portion of the step.

Jason walked over to the kitchen, answering the call with gritted teeth.

"What?"

"Where are you? We've been waiting here for an hour!" Tim, Red Robin at the moment, hissed through the speaker.

"Busy tonight. You'll be fine." Jason replied, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The one night everything was going well for him. Out of all the nights these fuckers could've borrowed him it was tonight.

"And you didn't think to tell anyone?" Tim replied, probably rolling his eyes on the other end. Jason faintly heard Damian's chattering in the background getting progressively louder.

"It's none of your business what I'm doing," Jason replied, leaning against the counter, frowning at the floor. He could feel the start of a headache building in his temples.

“I found the gray one!” Callum cheered, holding up a single gray piece they’d been looking for for the past five minutes.

“Good job, kid.” Jason chuckled, watching him connect the pieces.

"Who was that?"

Jason ended the call, tossing his phone onto the counter. He sighed, his eyes catching a painting in the corner of his vision, and he froze.

Slowly, he turned, finding a crude painting of three people. He easily recognized himself, a smile painted on the face of his character. Next to him, Callum, much shorter and then on Callum's other side was Leia, dark hair framing yet another smiling face.

Despite how it was obviously made by the young boy not paying much attention to Jason's stiff, barely breathing form.

When he finally broke out of his stupor his fingers grazed over the painting, scarred fingertips reaching to grasp the normalcy of a child's drawing.

"You draw this, kid?" Jason called over, swallowing the swell of emotions

Callum scrambled over, peering up at the painting on the fridge and grinning. "Yep!" Then, he glanced at Jason's phone and his smile wavered, and sad eyes peered up at Jason. "Are you going too?"

"No." Jason said immediately, shaking his head. "Just my...uh...brother."

How could he? Especially now, after seeing the painting Callum made. The kid painted himself, his mother and Jason. Most would just glance over the paper, finding it cute and moving on, but Jason couldn't. It was something he never knew he wanted. He hadn't thought this would ever be an option in this second chance life of his. To have a child draw you in a place of care was something Jason had yet to experience and now that he had, he didn't know if he could ever let this feeling go.

"You have a brother?" The kid gasped, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What's that like? I told Mama once that I wanted a sibling, but she said not right now. I heard it's like having a best friend."

Jason bit back any remark about his rather...rocky relationship with his brothers and instead smiled and ruffled Callum's hair.

"It is pretty fun most of the time. Now, let's keep workin', yeah?"

"Yeah!" Callum cheered, going back over to his spot, sitting crisscross on the rug.

Jason chuckled and looked over at the painting one more time, ingraining it in his mind, memorizing the beady eyes and wobbly smiles, the reds, blues, and yellows of their shirts, the sky, and the sun. A beautiful ideal of everything Jason had ever wanted, but never thought he could grasp.

He shook his head and moved to sit down too, careful to not step on the small Lego pieces scattered across the floor.

As they continued, Callum quizzed Jason: what’s your favorite color, who’s your favorite hero (his was Flash which made Jason laugh), what do you do for fun. Jason was as honest as he could be, leaving out a particular violent hobby that originally let him meet the boy’s mother.

“Mama likes reading too,” Callum pointed to the large bookshelves. “She used to read a lot while Auntie Matilda painted.”

“Auntie?” Jason paused putting together the pieces.

“Yeah, she went away after the crash. Mama says she’s in a better place, but we can’t see her anymore.” Callum teared up then, looking toward a picture on the wall depicting another woman with blue and pink hair split down the middle. She was beside Leia who was holding what he assumed was baby Callum wrapped in a green blanket. 

Callum sniffled, rubbing at his eyes.

“Hey,” Jason suddenly felt guilty, scrambling to stop Callum from crying. He’d never seen the kid cry so seeing the tears falling down his small face made him panic. “Your mom was right, y’know?”

Callum looked up, bottom lip trembling. “But I miss her.”

“I know, bud. But you’ll be okay. She wouldn’t want you to be sad, right?”

The boy sniffled again then leaned his head on Jason’s arm and he went stiff, not sure how to proceed. He didn’t mind that the boy’s tears stained his shirt, no, he could care less. 

“Thank you, Mr. Jason.”

“Anytime, kid. Why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

Callum whined and gripped Jason’s shirt. 

“Can I not stay up a little longer? Please?” 

“Nice try, but you know what your mom said and I don’t think she’d be too happy to find you awake when she gets back.” If Leia hadn’t given him strict instructions, he would’ve bent to the kid’s will immediately, but the last thing he wanted to do was test Leia’s trust in him that tonight showed. He wanted to prove that she could rely on him.

Callum groaned dramatically but relented and got up, going to his room. Jason kept his ears peeled for any sign of Callum getting hurt. While listening, he cleaned up the legos, putting their half finished project on the coffee table and putting the small pieces back in their bags then into the box. 

“Mr. Jason!”

Callum’s shout made Jason rush toward the boy’s room.

“Everything alright?” He looked into the room, quickly scanning for intruders then Callum for injuries. Instead, he found Callum sitting in bed, grinning up at him.

“Can you tuck me in? Mama always does it.”

Jason sighed heavily, shoulders sagging just a little. “Sure, little man. And you can just call me Jason.” He winked at Callum who giggled as Jason pulled the baby blue covers over the pajama clad boy. 

“Okay! Good night, Jason.”

“Night, kid. I’ll be here till your mom gets home, yeah?”

Callum nodded, yawning and snuggling further into his blankets that Jason had just tucked him into per the kid’s request. Jason was honestly a little surprised the boy went down so easily, having heard about how kids his age were little monsters but Callum was the furthest from it. Sure, he had his moments, but he was a child so that was expected. He credited it to Leia’s parenting. 

Jason walked out, closing the door softly behind him. The temptation to wander into the room adjacent to Callum’s was beyond strong. It tugged at his conscience, what he knew would be a direct violation of her trust…but it was right there. 

Before he could give in, he walked into the living room, curiously picking up a book that was on the corner of the couch. There was a bookmark made from a receipt from a local coffee shop that Jason took note of. It was halfway finished, not Jason’s usual pick, a fantasy novel judging by the cover, but he was desperate to have something in common with her. To be able to talk about this book whether Leia enjoyed it, her favorite character, chapter, anything.

He sat there for two more hours, keeping his ears peeled for Callum, but it was otherwise peaceful, calm. The silence was different from his lonely apartment. Their place was whole, warm and inviting while his was bare as bones, the home of a ghost. He clung to this feeling, hearing the shuffling of feet outside the door, he tucked the book back where it was, having gotten a little past Leia’s bookmark. 

He stood, hearing the door creak open. And there she was, exhausted, but beautiful as ever. He walked over, footsteps light but enough shuffle so she could hear him approach.

“It’s me,” Leia called in softly, shutting the door behind her. She kicked off her shoes and tossed her bag to the side, smiling sleepily at him with her eyes half closed and hair messy. 

“Hi,” he said, peering down at her. “Callum is asleep.”

“Thank you, really, it means a lot. You’ve done so much for us these past few weeks, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you.”

Her confession made his heart soar, but was overtaken by confusion when she pulled out her wallet, grabbing two twenties.

“Stop.” Jason rushed to put his hand over hers, stopping her from trying to pay him. He had more than enough access to money so taking anything from Leia, especially this, left a gross taste in his mouth.

Leia looked up at him with wide, confused eyes. She tried to push against his hand, but he gripped it just tight enough to keep it in place, pressing the money back in before tossing her wallet back into her purse with shocking accuracy. “Then how am I supposed to pay you back?”

Jason had no clue where the confidence came from, but the words came out so quickly, he couldn’t stop them.

“Maybe you could repay me with a date?”

The silence was heavy and thick, but then a smile broke out onto Leia’s face and Jason could’ve kissed her when she responded.

“I’d love that.”

Unbeknownst to both parties that were too in their moment of giddy smiles and warmth to notice the hints of a storm rising over the city’s horizon. A shadow growing in the distance took the form of Gotham’s protector. It peered through the window, curious as to why the Red Hood was absent, only to find him clinging to a civilian like she was the last good thing in the world. Maybe to him, the bloodied vigilante, she was.

Poor thing, the sun whimpered as it disappeared behind the clouds.

❥

“Where was Hood tonight?”

“He said it was something important but I thought I heard —“ Tim caught himself, brain too fuzzy to think of much else than getting in bed but was awake enough to remember that he wasn’t supposed to know what Callum sounded like. 

“Heard what?” Nightwing – now back to Dick Grayson asked, raising a brow at his younger brother.

For once in his life, Tim cursed his inability to rest seeing as now it left him scrambling for an answer.

“He’s with Leia isn’t he?”

“What?” Tim sputtered, not missing how casually Dick leaned against one of the stone walls, crossing his arms.

“C’mon, Timmy. I’m not blind.”

Tim’s lips pressed into a thin line and he prepared himself for a lecture. Instead, Dick smiled kindly at him and nodded toward the almost too large computer dutifully named the BatComputer. 

“So…you gonna share with the class or am I gonna have to sort through your shit myself?”

“As if you could get through half of it.” Tim snorted, glancing around to make sure Bruce and Damian had gone away for the night, leaving just the two of them in the Cave. 

Dick shrugged, pushing off the wall to stand behind him. “Fair point, but it’d be easier to compare notes, right?”

Tim chuckled, beginning to type in his many passwords to open his treasure trove of notes and know-it-alls. He wouldn’t show Dick everything, no, Tim was going to be a little selfish, but Dick was right: it was better to compare notes and learn more. Afterall, Dick had already met her and was as observant as any other trained Robin. There was only so much Tim could see – feel from behind a screen.

So, still weary, he pulled up the first, much less in depth version on a smaller screen in front of him, allowing Dick to pour over the information. 

“Thorough as always, Timmy,” Dick muttered as he scanned it.

“You’re not…usually you get onto me for this type of stuff.”

Dick hummed. “Well not this time. First, we’re both worried about Jason especially since he likes her enough to skip patrol.” Tim could’ve sworn Dick’s jaw clenched, but it was gone in a millisecond. “Second, she’s a curious thing, nothing wrong with a little background check. And third, well, if anything this is just keeping her and her son safe.”

Little…right…that’s what all the document Dick was looking at had. 'Just a little background check' his ass, but Tim perked up when Dick mentioned they were just keeping them safe. He was glad he wasn’t alone in that thought. 

It’s to keep them safe, they told themselves over and over and over again.

“Right…now spill.”

Uhhh sorry I dropped off for a sec there y'all my bad.

[dawningfairytale]

something i find so fascinating about grace chasity’s brand of christianity is that there’s not much sexism in it? let me explain what i mean.

i come from a christian background and a denomination which, in my state, has allowed women in eldership positions for my whole life. i’m friends with other christians whose denominations Don’t have that and also us christian fundamentalism is very sexist, i know bc have access to social media.

aside from mark’s job being mentioned and karen’s not, as well as her doing the cooking, there’s not a real sense of gender hierarchy in the christian circles in hatchetfield. this applies greatly to the purity culture that pervades abstinence camp and npmd, with the jerris saying that “this is a progressive ministry. we believe men and women should just say no!” often, in fundamentalist circles, while men are encouraged to wait until marriage, so much more pressure is put on the women to “stop the men from stumbling” (yes, it’s bad, this isn’t a post about the horrors of purity culture).

however, in npmd (and even ac to an extent), grace is the one at risk of “stumbling” and blames men. in npmd she very much blames max for her corrupted purity (from her perspective) and that is her motivation for revenge, even before she has sex with his ghost. the responsibility is not on her to “gouge out her own eye”, so to speak, at least not without a greater risk to max. even in ac, she makes tiny sweaters for their Jesus status, which reminds me of when i would scroll down to the comments of a youtube video bc i was scared of being attracted to people (1. not a purity culture thing 2. id like to say that this was a me being scared of liking women thing, and to an extent it was, but i also remember doing it to men. 2017 was a weird time and something was probably awakening in me ngl).

as slightly more proof, she is the only one advocating for removing homecoming in npmd, and in ac she ends as the sole leader of the camp. now, an evangelical’s view of women in ministry varies on person to person (source: like two weeks ago when i was desperately trying to not get myself into a debate with other christian women), unless she’s in an ultra-conservative environment (which she isn’t, it’s middlingly conservative frankly), she would be able to do these on her own. however, this is theatre, it’s a demonstration of her desire for power and acquisition of it. she does not view herself as needing to be subservient to a man. also i think northern baptists (my hc for her) are a little less Bad than southern baptists but anyway.

the interesting thing about this, to me, is that she does share views that i would put in those less “yay women” denominations (yes this about the catholic line i guarantee you it annoys me even more when i encounter it in the real world). there’s the (internalised) homophobia. but not the internalised misogyny. this could be related to the respect given to trans identities by the depictions of idontwannabang and the chasitys in hatchetfield, creating the sense of a more egalitarian Biblical perspective than complimentarian.

like grace has this terrible relationship with purity culture, yeah, but she’s the active agent in it, and she shames the passive object of her affections, the man. that doesn’t happen that often. there are countless videos of “what women should wear to be modest” but men can go to the gym shirtless if they so choose. maybe it’s only interesting to me but still

[envy-of-the-apple]

Hi!! This is my first time messaging a writer I really like but I’m high and have enjoyed your work for a while now and just wanted to share my appreciation especially after reading RAST. Sorry in advance for how unorganized this may look.

As a reader, I enjoy your story telling so much. You switch between past and present so fluidly and it makes the “world-building”feel natural while still keeping my interest and moving forward the plot.

I also wanted to compliment you on your ability to story tell so well while also staying true to the personality of the characters you write about. (I have specific examples I will detail later in this message from RAST because you did such a wonderful job of translating dynamics from the JJK universe into a Mafia AU)

I just wanted to share Little Details From RAST I enjoyed/made me really think

1.Grabbing Gojo’s wrist when he reaches for your skirt/panties happens both at the beginning and the end. I like how there’s a difference in Gojo’s reaction. The first time, he lightly dismissing your actions when he doesn’t have any genuine interest in you. The tension between Gojo in Ms. Gem later on is so telling because now Gojo knows all cards have been revealed and expects to be rewarded. It’s like when a dog finally gets their jaws on a toy and growls when you try to take it away.

2.(This detail I noted is an example of themes from the JJK universe translating well into your Mafia AU)In the JJK universe, there is definitely a patriarchal system in place which leads misogyny displayed in characters like Naoya. Your AU does a good job of portraying this culture as well from the start. It’s shared that the men of the organization don’t like women with “nasty attitude. It’s def implied that most men hold higher positions of power. It results in the events where we see other men laughing at Gem when she’s being groped by guards or being humiliated by Geto during his meeting.

3.(This goes for all your SatoSugu fics but especially in RAST) I love love love your characterization of Geto and Gojo. You’re very good at capturing personalities of characters but it’s especially clear in the SatoSugu fics you write because the dialogue is true to how they would speak to their darling AND eachother.

4.Through RAST, I was actually able to understand the personalities of Geto and Gojo in the manga better!It makes sense for Geto to be so controlled in personality because a controlled/calculating demeanor would only way for Geto to move up in ranks within the Yakuza and eventually meet and be on equal footing with Gojo. In the JJK world we see that Gojo really values Geto because Geto is on the same level as Gojo, but I forget that Geto must’ve clearly worked really hard to get to that level both in terms of skill and respect because he was born to a non-sorcerer family.With Gojo being apart of the sorcerer world/yakuza family by blood and always being reminded of how much power he has, it makes sense he would be so uncaring of social norms and so freely in Ms. Gem’s personal space.I can also see why, as you mentioned in another post, Geto doesn’t like to get his hands dirty, he’d be the type to see how to milk a situation for the most benefit rather than lashing out as Gojo would. (i.e. Gojo immediately throwing hands when the other yakuza family member touched Ms. Gem while Getou immediately seeing a chance to push Ms. Gem into their arms without a fit)

5. The car scene is actually lowkey funny bc they really do treat her like a pet on a road trip and ofc Gojo is the one watching cat videos lmaooo

7. You have this pattern in your writing (I like to think of it as a writer’s signature) of having questions by the reader go unanswered by the yandere while having phrases of affections by yanderes be barely acknowledged and I LOVE it. Every time I see it I eat it up because it’s so… akdjsjd

8. I love to see the SEM and EKM make an appearance in the last scene

Please correct me if any of my analysis in my thoughts are wrong and sorry in advance if that happens!! I truly enjoy the effort you put in as a writer

[rogueolight]

erzajane headcanons…. i have Many….

-Erza suddenly just Remembers that she is ripped and can carry literally anything sometimes. And whenever she does she immediately picks mira up without warning. miras more of the Literal manhandler in the relationship (because that’s how you manage people when u have 2 younger siblings u literally had to raise) but erza is just like …. pick up wife……….. soican carry Her…….. 😊😊and mira is like WAAAH! she gets startled everytime.

-grey is their NUMBER ONE HATER. He gets forced to take pictures of them being gross together and every single time he is DISGUSTED! despite the show giving grey and erza unnecessary weird romantic tension that made no sense i think theyre super siblings & it’s really like watching your older sister be in love type of disgust. Cana was their number one hater when they tore up the guild in fights but now she’s like Awwwwww … Leave them be grey! theyre Cute!

-happy tried. So Hard to do the “she loooooves you” thing to them after they get together but theyre just like yes I do :3 and he gets really pissed off he can’t make either of them mad anymore after the YEARS of pining. and then he extra torments lucy

-any time erza and mira have a nice moment during their rival era natsu jumps in and is like AWWW! GROUP HUUUG! and ruins it

-lucy is sooooo jealous. imagine u have 2 GORGEOUS beautiful friends u lowkey want & they GET TOGETHER. she’s hyping them up but she wants to be both of them. she’s like that one picture “I'm Finna just join somebody else relationship..Bitch scoot over.. I love y'all..” She also spills all her relationship drama to mira (about natsu juvia cana whoEVER (she’s moronromantic)) and since erzas there too she’s like WHAT?! HUH? because her autistic ass had no idea about any of this. she’s like “Guys can i just join your relationship instead im so tired” and miras like Awww silly lucy 😊

-& as an extension of this mira starts spilling ALL. the tea. to erza. mira is the type to stir the pot unnecessarily because she’s bored (i.e her messing with lucy by saying grey and natsu like her) even when she’s absolutely positive something is just a false rumor. she’s been holding all that REAL shit in to herself and as soon as lisanna gets back she EXPLODES with gossip she’s collected to lisanna and erza whenever they get together. she’s a good secret keeper mostly but her sister and girlfriend Will Know. erza starts teasing people (subtly) much more as a result.

-elfever & erzajane in-law shenanigans. They stay over at each others places often all together (with lisanna too. freeloading on either of their couches) and cook dinner together…

-grief made mira give a fuck sooo much less. especially initially after someone would playfully make a jab and instead of dissing back she’d be like Oh you! but erza would get pissed off that she was passive and start fighting people for her. and then mira would just be like wow<3

-for most of their earlier days erza was almost always in a full suit of armor as a coping mechanism. despite really loving to dress up, she never really did it outside of her own room because she didn’t feel safe enough to, so that leads to mira seeing an ankle and being filled with lust like it’s the 1600s. over time she grows more comfortable and stuff but like. jus imagine u see ur crush out of a suit of armor for the first time and she is just absolutely RIPPED. cmon now. you’d die too

-if mira gets notes from secret admirers or letters from fans erza will proofread them. She is a living grammarly. she also just gets jealous

-through mira’s transformation magic she starts hiding her scars from battles when she starts modeling. erza doesn’t say anything about it but it pisses her off so bad because she thinks mira is gorgeous just the way she is. mira just tryin to make that bank now that she can’t work as a wizard 🔥 let her be

-they both dickride each other when they fight other people. especially in the grand magic games arc mira was picking everyone up and spinning them around and screaming BEAT THEIR ASS ERZA!!!!!! n meanwhile erza is just like Heh…. this was only 2% of her power… She could’ve PULVERIZED her…. like okaaay i see u!