#one of which I’ll probably have to handle when they pick up their order on Monday

[princessbrunette]

reader upset bc things just aren’t going her way today, she woke up on the wrong side of the bed after not getting much sleep, and her hair didn’t turn out the way she wanted it too, she couldn’t find her favorite skirt and she broke her nail. rafe takes her with him to run errands and handle business, and she’s quiet and upset the whole time and she just needs her rafe but he’s so busy right now. eventually something small happens like she trips over her feet or spills something over herself and had a meltdown, bc we all get overstimulated and have meltdowns sometimes :/

i can’t explain to you how much i relate to this :(( have too many days like this one !!

you’d be quiet for the most part, more quiet than usual but rafe isnt gonna necessarily question it, just chalking it up to being in a bad mood. by the time you’ve made it to the car, everything’s overstimulating you. you don’t like the songs that keep coming on the aux, the car is rumbling too loud, rafes being quiet too so it’s just setting you on edge thinking somethings up, it’s just too much. but worst of all, you were hungry.

rafe had some errands to run, but he’d promised you fries, mentioned casually earlier which he’d probably forgotten about. you were holding onto that fact, knowing being fed would greatly cure a large part of your foul mood.

you’d passed the midway point, rafe completing another task on behalf of his father before you finally speak up— voice croaky from lack of sleep and lack of use. “can we get food now?”

he glances at you, reversing out of his spot, looking over his shoulder with his mouth parted in concentration. “huh? oh — uh, yeah, yeah soon. i left somethin’ in the boat so i gotta go pick it up.” he speaks casually.

for some reason, it’s your tipping point.

“no… you said we’d—” you’d go to argue, but suddenly burst into tears, crying into your hands. once you start, you quickly realise you can’t stop, the overstimulation and every issue you’d faced that day catching up with you. rafe frowns in confusion at you, eyes darting between the road and your hunched over form.

“hey, what are you — why are you crying?” he asks, and you can’t answer— far too upset. he sighs, thinking for a moment you’re being a tad dramatic, so used to being spoiled by him that you’re crying over something so minor. he doesn’t like seeing you so upset though, so he sighs and starts to turn his wheel, the car hitting a U-turn. “alright, hey, alright. i’ll get your damn fries. shit.”

it’s only when you don’t calm down he actually starts to get a little concerned. you cry the entire journey, not lifting your head from your hands— and all he can do is spare you worried glances before ordering your food. he parks in the lot, a wad of napkins from the food bag in his clutch and turns to you.

“look at me, kid. please?” he instructs, and you reluctantly do. blinking through gloopy mascara and sniffling your snotty nose shamefully. he dabs at your face, holding the napkin to your nose and quietly telling you to blow. he then sets it aside, and places the fries in your lap, running his hand over his chin and jaw thoughtfully for a moment.

“m’sorry.” you break the silence, staring down at your fries. he sighs, shaking his head.

“what happened, hm? was it me? did i fuck up?”

“no rafe, just got overwhelmed. im having a bad day.”

he stares at you for a moment, turning his body to face you more. “what do you… what do you want me to do?” he asks, his own finger gently prodding at his chest. he was trying to understand you, trying to be a good boyfriend. you think for a moment, glumly staring at your hands.

“i wanna go home and just be with you.” you sulk. he nods slowly, staring off out the window.

“y’know i got shit to do though, baby. can’t just… drop everything, you know? got people countin’ on me. m’handling shit today. ” he squints, hating that he has to be tough— but makes his voice gentle enough to soften the blow.

“i know.” it comes out as a broken whisper, and he can tell you didn’t like his answer. he stares at you, helpless, before speaking once more.

“eat your fries, and then you’re gonna go lay down in the back and have a nap, okay? think you need one. we’ll figure it out from there, a’ight?” he places a hand on your shoulder, tilting his head down and staring into your eyes, hoping what he’s saying is good enough. you think for a moment before nodding and he smiles, patting your cheek.

“alright, that’s my girl. proud of you, okay baby?”

[penny00dreadful]

Rookie Mistake

AO3

17th August 2023

Someone was following him home. 

They were keeping their distance at least. But they'd been keeping their distance through the last three turns.

They could, at the very least, try not to make it obvious what they were doing.

Usually someone following him wouldn’t be a problem. Steve was an expert at what he did and losing a person who was tailing him was easy.

Or it used to be anyway.

His back had taken much longer to heal than any of them had expected and he’d been told his chances of walking again were fifty-fifty. Pretty much a coin toss.

But he’d started to get the feeling back in his legs again around the three month mark. While all of it still hadn’t returned and the doctors were unsure if it ever would, he could at least walk again.

He couldn’t move as fast nowadays, though the cane helped. But it didn’t help enough to escape from his followers' sight.

He was slow, he couldn’t run and he couldn’t stand for extended periods of time. 

He could walk for even less. Which was probably why Claire at the gas station had kept shooting him concerned glances. 

Walking to and from there was pretty much the extent of what he could do in a day. 

Barely fifteen minutes there and back, but enough to have him exhausted and trying to keep the pain at bay.

Eddie was gonna lose his fucking mind once he found out. He worried too much. Steve still remembered the first words he heard when he woke up in the hospital.

“If you ever do that to me again, I swear to god sweetheart, I’ll take you out myself.” Spoken through teary eyes and with shaking hands as he reached for him, like if he didn’t touch him immediately Steve would drift back off into a coma.

This was the first time Steve had been home alone for an extended period of time since he'd been recovering. Eddie had looked at him with a stern pointed finger and an order not to do anything stupid.

So of course he had decided he was going to walk to the nearby gas station to pick up some of their favourite snacks. 

They were gonna do a lazy streaming binge session later that evening, complete with a blanket fort like little kids, when Eddie got back from helping at the garage with Gareth.

What else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t drive anymore. He didn’t have the strength in his legs for the pedals.

And the gas station was just outside the estate they’d chosen to settle in. Eddie had wanted to be closer to his Uncle Wayne and be able to see his friends again and Steve could never refuse him that.

Except now he was limping home, cane in one hand, paper bag of junk food in the other, with pain and exhaustion shooting up his legs, right into his weakened back. 

He could barely even focus on the space around him, he was concentrating so hard on just putting one foot in front of the other and getting home without passing out from the pain, never mind fighting off an assailant.

In his heyday he wouldn’t even have had to think about how he would handle this situation.

Now, however. Now he felt so fucking helpless. 

There was a gun concealed in a secret pocket just inside the front door. If he could just get to it, he might make it out of whatever this was. 

Even though Steve was on medical leave and Eddie was… retired, old habits die hard. They’d never not be trained to be killers and expect something around every corner.

God, he’d been so stupid. This was so stupid. Eddie would never let him hear the end of it. 

Steve would be lucky if he could keep upright once he hit the front door, everything was so painful.

But Steve was well versed in pain. Literally trained in it. Torture, interrogation, field medicine, pushing past injuries to get the job done. Steve had handled it all, always dreading the idea of being put behind a desk. Even now he was determined to make sure that didn’t happen. 

No offence to Robin and her job. He’d be dead ten times over without her but it just wasn’t something he could fathom doing. 

There was a mentor position opening up though. 

Dimitri was retiring to spend more time with his family which meant that Steve could possibly be looking after the new recruits in the near future.

Y’know.

If he didn’t fucking die here and now at the hands of some idiot lacking subtlety.

As far as anyone in the neighbourhood knew, Steve had moved to the area with his husband while recovering from a catastrophic fall, which wasn’t exactly incorrect.

The best lies were the ones that had truth in them.

And the neighbours had all been very… neighbourly. It was a little foreign to him. He was used to growing up in upper class neighbourhoods where he would maybe shoot a quick smile and a hello towards the couple across the road but apart from that, he pretended they didn’t exist and vice versa.

But here, though it was a solid middle class suburb, they all actually spoke to each other. 

Bastien would usually chat while he was out walking his golden retriever named Bread. 

Lucy and Anthony, a couple in their eighties, knew everything about everyone and gave them the best neighbourhood gossip. 

Sandra loved hosting a cookout and invited them every single time. 

Even the neighbourhood kids were all very sweet for a bunch of teenagers.

Best of all was their next door neighbour, Chrissy.

She had knocked on their front door with a freshly baked apple pie in one hand and an invite to her big blowout divorce celebration in the other. It was only the day after they’d moved in and Steve had hobbled downstairs to find her and Eddie chatting like they’d known each other forever.

Steve had originally worried they were only being included in these events as the token queers of the neighbourhood. Just so all these middle classers could pat themselves on the back for their diversity but those worries were quickly put to rest.

Their acceptance was quiet. It wasn’t braggadocious. It was sweet.

Chrissy's divorce party had been a wild night full of karaoke, an obscene amount of chinese food and glass upon glass of pink, glittery, fruity cocktails. 

All things that Jason had hated. 

Things Chrissy loved. 

Things she hadn’t been able to enjoy in her own home in years. But now she was free to do whatever her heart desired. 

Chrissy deserved way better than Jason anyway.

She had leaned into Eddie’s side and taken Steve’s hand in hers and slurred that she wanted “what you guys have. You’re so sweet to each other. How long have you been together?”

They had made eye contact over her head with raised eyebrows. 

The start of their relationship was always a bit of a blurred line.

“Seven, eight years maybe?” Eddie had said, holding her steady with an arm around her waist.

“Really?” She’d asked, blinking her big eyes up at the two of them. “That’s such a long time. Jason and I got married after a year. Don’t do that.” She added, pointing back and forth at the two of them. “It’s a bad idea.”

Steve patted the hand that was held in his. “We won’t. Don’t worry.” 

Especially considering they’d already been married two years by then. 

As the night wore on and more and more stories had come out about what Chrissy’s marriage had been like, Eddie had offered, with three cocktail umbrellas in his hair and a Pink Lady in his hand, to hunt Jason down and make him disappear. 

Chrissy had giggled with a roll of her eyes. 

"Oh sure, you big softie.” She said as she lightly swatted his arm. “If he starts calling around unannounced again, then go ahead."

Eddie had smiled, sweet and innocent, but his eyes had been sharp and hard and Jason needed to watch his fucking back.

Steve had been able to convince him to at least give Jason a warning the first time, before he completely wiped the guy from existence. 

But only one warning was all Eddie would concede to with a pout and a mutter of ‘You’re no fun’. 

If Jason couldn’t take a hint and kept coming around after that, it wasn't Steve's problem anymore.

In general their time in the neighbourhood was nice. It was domestic. The area was safe and sleepy and naive to most of the wrongs of the world. 

It was something Steve and Eddie had never had the chance to have, especially considering the start of their relationship had been so… combative.

Which is what made the guy trailing behind him stick out like a penguin in the desert.

He was unfamiliar.

In an ill fitting black suit that looked like something out of a bad spy movie and greasy slicked back hair.

Steve wasn’t scared of him. 

He was clearly inexperienced. 

Or just stupid.

The guy kept his gaze locked on his target, one hand constantly in his pocket and a look of grim determination on his face. 

Obvious.

But he also seemed to be growing in confidence too. Getting slowly closer and closer.

Steve kept his pace slow and relaxed, trying his best to hide the pain and exhaustion he was feeling sinking into his back and down his legs.

And trying to hide the fact that he knew a fucking idiot was tailing him.

If some fucking newbie gang member or whatever was able to take him down because Steve couldn’t help but push himself, he was going to be so pissed off.

All he needed to do was get inside. 

Unlock the door, get inside and he’d be able to grab one of their concealed weapons and take care of whatever this was.

Easy peasy.

Or it would have been easy peasy if not for the second guy.

The second guy who’d descended on him just as he pushed his front door open, looping an arm around his neck. 

He dropped his bag and his cane, scrabbling against the hold and just barely brushing the hidden gun compartment with his fingers before he felt it.

The sharp sting of a needle in his neck and the cold of whatever it was spreading through his veins. 

The last thought that ran through his head before everything went black was that Eddie was going to be so dramatic about this.

He didn’t know how long it was before he woke up but he could take a guess.

It was an empty warehouse he was being kept in, if the bare concrete walls, metal roof and high ceilings were anything to go by. 

The windows were right at the top, only letting the barest sliver of orange daylight through. 

The sun was low enough Steve guessed he’d only been out for an hour. 

The whole place smelled of damp and was shrouded in shadow, the only light being that bit of orange sun and one bare light bulb hanging over his head.

Brimborn Steelworks, he thought. 

He could smell the sea air, hear gulls outside, and the warehouse had been abandoned for as long as they’d been in the area so it was a pretty safe bet.

Just outside the circle of light he was washed in, he could hear muttering and bodies shuffling around. 

About four by his estimation, along with the sound of metal parts shifting against each other. 

Guns. 

Fantastic. 

Just what he fucking needed.

His hands were knotted behind his back, not even tied to the chair he was sitting on. Who used rope to tie people up anymore?

Aside from certain… intimate circumstances, Steve hadn’t had to deal with rope in ages.

Not since… well.

It was usually zip ties or duct tape that were used. 

Much quicker, much easier to conceal in pockets or pouches.

And judging by how he was tied, fingers pointed downwards, inner wrist to inner wrist and just a bit too tightly, these guys had absolutely no experience with ropes. 

Kinky or not.

They hadn’t even bothered to blindfold him.

Or gag him.

Eddie would have never been so sloppy. He could’ve done better than this to Steve with his eyes closed and on a Tuesday afternoon.

If he was at full strength, he’d have been able to manoeuvre the weak bindings of his ropes until he was able to tug them free and kick the shit out of the closest guy until he got his hands on his gun.

Then he’d be out of here and on his way home before Eddie had the time to properly spiral.

But he wasn’t at full strength, he could barely even pull against the binds around his wrists, tugged at an uncomfortable angle behind his back. 

Not a gentle angle and not at the proper straining points he was used to. 

The rope was rough and harsh against his skin instead of the delicious soft bite of the silken binds.

But it was fine. 

He wouldn’t be here long.

“He’s awake.” A voice in front of him said. 

The accent was mostly American but with the slightest tinge of Russian underneath. 

Great.

Two men in ill fitting black suits with their guns held loosely at their sides stepped into the light. The other two stayed behind him, probably as some kind of security or intimidation measure. 

Well, it was nice to see them try. 

Cute almost.

“Hello.” Steve sighed. “Can you guys tell me what this is all about so we can get it over with, please?”

“Oh,” the one in front of him sneered, “he thinks he’s funny.”

“I think I’m very funny, yes.” Steve nodded, relaxing into the chair as much as he could.

The guy scowled. Clearly he hadn’t learned that sometimes having fun on the job was necessary. Helped alleviate stress. “You’re gonna answer our questions.”

“Sure thing, Drago.” Steve nodded. The guy really did look like Drago. Big meaty head and short crop of blonde hair. “Hit me.”

Drago smirked. “If you insist.”

With an almighty crack he brought the back of his hand down across Steve’s face, snapping his head to the side.

He could feel the blood welling up in his mouth where his teeth had cut into his cheek and the heat from the strike blooming over his skin that would no doubt turn purple within the next day.

God, never start an interrogation with violence. 

Fucking casuals.

Steve sucked at the blood pooling in his mouth and spat it at Drago’s feet.

“You’re going to regret that.”

Drago scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Who do you work for?”

“Scoops.” Steve grinned with blood stained teeth and a nonchalant shrug. “Scoops Ahoy. That little ice cream shop at the mall?”

“Cute.” He sneered.

“Thank you.”

“Maybe you need more persuasion.” A voice came from behind him and a sharp blade was pressed against his neck. “How would you feel if I were to cut your pretty throat?”

Steve ran his tongue over his bloody teeth. 

“Do it.”

There was a stutter of movement as the four of them glanced at each other.

“You think we won’t?”

“No, go on, do it.” Steve pressed his neck against the blade which was immediately pulled away. “You think you can get more answers out of my dead body?”

The guy with the blade swung himself around to face him, digging the point into his cheek this time with a snarl. 

Steve couldn’t even be bothered to give him a name in his head. 

He’d be Knife Guy. 

Didn’t matter. 

He’d be dead soon.

“Or,” Steve continued, “do you think that I’m going to cower to any more of your threats now that you’ve just shown me you’re not willing to kill me?” He laughed. “Never start with your last resort.”

The tip of the blade was dug in deeper and dragged across his cheek, cutting into his skin but Steve could barely feel it as he distantly heard the sound of tires screeching to a stop outside.

No one else seemed to have noticed.

“We don’t need to kill you, we just need to make you talk.”

“Well,” Steve sighed, grimacing at the hot sticky blood running down his cheek. If he was lucky it wouldn’t scar.

If they were lucky it wouldn’t scar. 

“I suggest you hurry up, you’re running out of time.”

The four of them laughed. “You think your buddies are coming for you? We targeted you because you were alone and impeded. You had no safety net around you.”

“You sure about that?” Steve took in each of their faces, all looking so confident in a job well done. “You’re right, my buddies aren’t coming for me. If they were, you could take your time. But as it is you’ll all be dead in about,” he tilted his head, listening for the first distant gunshot, which sounded only half a second later, “three minutes so…”

“If not your buddies then who?”

“You guys seem a little new at this.” He said gently, like he was speaking to children. “Have you ever heard of The Shadow of Hawkins?”

Their blank faces told him all he needed to know. 

Fair enough. 

It was a fairly obscure name after all.

And a bit ridiculous.

“How about The Demon of Dresden?” He glanced around. “No? The Bloodyhanded? Ringing any bells?”

Steve blinked at them all in bewilderment. 

Did these guys know anything? 

The gunfire outside was getting louder and closer to their building and the guys around him seem to have finally clued in, clutching their guns tighter. 

Like that would do anything for them.

Steve refused to give them a moment of reprieve.

“Really guys? He’s gonna be so offended.” He shook his head, as though disappointed. “Well, maybe you’ll know him by his most famous title.” The last gunshot cracked through the air leaving a terrible silence in its wake. “Kas. The Betrayer.”

Every one of them flinched at the name, the colour draining from their faces as a door slammed open in another part of the building.

“He's trying to scare us.” Knife Guy swallowed. “Kas is dead.”

“He was." Steve nodded. "But you had to go and resurrect him. But here’s another one for you.” He grinned again, blood coating his teeth and leaned as far forward as his bindings would allow him, despite the strain on his back. “Who do you think I am?”

“Why does it matter?" The third guy spat, but Drago had a horrible realisation dawning on his face.

"You…"

“Who?” The fourth asked, whipping his head back and forth to look at the two of them. “Who is he?”

“He… you…” Drago shook his head, his full accent apparent now. “You can’t be!”

“Who gave us our intel?!” Knife Guy shouted at the others, also cottoning on.

“You…” Drago swallowed. “You’re his-”

“Sweetheart!” Eddie’s voice echoed around the warehouse seeming to come from all directions and none all at once.

Knife Guy was by his side in a flash with a fist in his hair and the blade pressed against his throat again.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Steve said, glancing up. “He’s very protective of my hair.”

His fist only tightened.

“Fine,” Steve shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“Hey fuckos!” Eddie was still shrouded in darkness, completely hidden from view. “Tying him to chairs is my job!”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Oh, for god's sake.”

Drago stepped in front of Steve, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest, pointing his gun towards the various dark corners. “If you want your-”

Four loud gunshots rang out, echoing throughout the room. 

Steve felt the warm splatter of blood across his face.

Four bodies fell to the floor, a clean bullet wound through three of their foreheads.

Knife Guy, the one who had his hand in Steve’s hair was screaming in agony, clutching his blown apart knee.

“An hour, sweetheart.” Eddie’s figure stormed out of the dark, coming to a stop just in front of him. He still had grease from the garage streaked over his cheek and embedded into the creases on his hands to go along with the copious amount of other people’s blood spattered all over his body. “I leave you alone for one hour and I have to answer a call from a worried Chrissy checking to see if everything's okay because our front door is wide fucking open. How did you go and get yourself kidnapped by Ruskies?” 

"Oh, I'm sorry, please continue to tell me how getting fucking ambushed outside our home is my fault."

"It didn’t start outside our home, did it?" 

Knife Guy wailed again and Eddie looked down on him with a cold glare. 

“Oh, sorry.” He said, not sorry at all. “I must have missed.”

With a simple squeeze of the trigger he put a hole through Knife Guys head and the screaming stopped. 

Steve expected Eddie to walk behind him to cut his binds but instead he just swung his leg out and sat himself down on Steve's lap.

"It started at that fucking gas station because you can't sit down for five minutes straight." Eddie pulled a small pocket sized first aid kit out and tilted Steve's head to the side. "Even if fucking Hippocrates or god damned Florence Nightingale rose from the dead and told you to take it easy, you'd still be ignoring their orders." He scoffed as he roughly pressed a butterfly bandage over Steve's cheek. "And you call me the hyperactive one." He mumbled.

Steve winced, glaring at him as Eddie pressed down particularly hard on one strip.

His mouth was still pulled into a deep frown but he stroked his fingers gently over Steve’s cheek, caressing his face with the gentlest of touches.

"You okay?"

Steve couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Yeah baby, I'm good. But they got the angle of my arms all wrong. It's really uncomfortable."

"Hmm. Well as an expert in tying you down to chairs, I'd have to agree. How dare they steal my thing. I fell in love with you when you were tied to a chair."

Steve raised an eyebrow, complete disbelief written on his face.

“Oh yeah?” He tried to bring their faces closer but he was impeded by his bindings. Eddie just gave him a feral grin. “Which time?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Tell me.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Eddie cooed. “No.”

“Asshole.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Would you mind?" He tugged at the ropes again. "My back is fucking killing me."

"Of course." Eddie muttered into Steve's mouth but never properly closing the distance while simultaneously lifting his weight up. “All you had to do was ask.”

With the bindings now gone, his shoulders and arms felt like fucking lead and the blood rushing back into his hands was causing terrible pins and needles.

Eddie was digging his fingers into Steve's muscles, trying to alleviate as much of the strain as he could.

Steve closed his eyes and groaned, his earlier ill-advised trip was catching up with him again and he was dreading having to walk out of this place. 

He just wanted to be at fucking home, in his fucking bed with his fucking husband.

Or maybe they could still do that naked blanket fort in the living room with a movie marathon and an obscene amount of snacks.

When he opened his eyes again, Eddie was on one knee with his back to him.

“Hop on.”

Steve grumbled but couldn’t find it in himself to argue, sliding himself forward, slinging his arms over Eddie’s shoulders and allowing himself to be carried off.

Eddie was strong and steady under him, barely flinching as he grabbed tight to Steve’s thighs and stood.

Their walk back was quiet and Steve wasn’t looking forward to the amount of paperwork that would have to be filed as a result of this but he hoped since he was still on medical leave he could get out of it.

The sun was starting to set outside, the sky splashed with brilliant shades of reds and oranges and pinks. Now that he was outside he saw he was correct about where he was being held.

Brimborn Steel Works.

Still got it.

When he turned his head back around to face forward he saw that Eddie had driven Steve's beloved bimmer here. 

The driver's side door was flung open and the car was at an odd angle, the direction and darkness of the tire marks behind telling Steve that Eddie had practically drifted into the lot at speed.

There were a few bullet holes in the doors and the passenger window was shattered but it wasn’t the worst that car had ever seen.

Bodies littered the ground around them, all in the same out of date suits Steve’s four goons had been wearing, all with the same guns, all with the same kind of build and all with slowly coagulating pools of blood and brains around them.

Damn. 

Eddie really didn’t hold back this time.

Steve looked back at his car. 

He couldn’t drive her anymore. 

Probably never would be able to again.

They’d talked about trading it in for a model with push-pull controls for his hands instead of floor pedals so he could have that freedom back.

But they hadn’t gotten to it yet.

Eddie had taken his motorcycle to the garage, he would have arrived home with it. Probably seen the front door wide open and a grocery bag on the ground like Chrissy said. 

It would have been quicker to get here on the motorcycle.

But Steve couldn’t ride on it. 

Not as a driver or passenger. 

At least not yet, not until he was further healed. 

So Eddie had come here with the car, either because of hope, stubbornness or pure confidence, knowing he would get Steve back.

Steve smiled to himself, tightening his arms around Eddie’s shoulders and burying his face in his neck, peppering little kisses on any skin he could reach.

“You okay back there?”

He could hear the grin in his voice as Eddie lowered him down into the passenger seat, turning on his knees to rest his forearms across Steve’s thighs.

“Yeah.” Steve smiled down at him. “Just… thanks for finding me.”

Eddie straightened up to his full kneeling height, taking Steve's face in his hands. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” He leaned up, pressing the softest of soft kisses against Steve’s lips, full of love, adoration, dedication. 

Steve could feel it pouring out of him and into his own body. 

The gentlest intimacy from a man who could cause so much violence. 

Eddie brushed their noses together. “I’ll always come find you.”

“You always say that.”

Eddie hummed. “Because I always will.”

AO3

A prequel fic set in this universe will be dropping next week 👀

@geekymagicalpotato

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the STWG for their motivation.

[captain-mj]

"Something in him told him to put it on, feeling it against his skin."

Please. Please MJ, Pretty please, I don't know how or why it would happen, but I need Ghost to put on the coat or handle it a bit more. (Preferably without knowing the implications) Love the flustered Selkie!McTavish.

Foaming at the mouth because this is my two special interests merged

~~~~

Ghost tried not to do it again. Really, really tried. But Soap was in med bay and had asked him to grab some stuff for him. And the coat was laid out on the bed. 

The feeling crept back under his skin and before he knew it, his gloves were back off, running their way their way through the fur. 

Soap tensed, the entire base away, feeling the ghost of a touch. He closed his eyes tight. “Please don’t put it on. Please don’t put it on.” 

Ghost lifted his mask, just to the bridge of his nose, and lightly pressed it to his face. It was so soft. Smelled so intensely of Soap and the sea. Salt blending with the vanilla body wash he always used. He understood why Soap found it so comforting. It felt pretty heavy too, like the weighted blanket Ghost refused to admit he had in his room. 

Soap flushed, feeling the increasingly gentle touch. “What are you doing to me, Ghost?” He shuddered. Out of all of the team, Ghost would probably be the best he supposed. He didn’t ask him many questions, so Soap wouldn’t have to worry about spilling any secrets. Only really ordered him to do things in the field. Soap would just be an exceptional soldier a couple of days. 

That instinct started at the top of his spine, begging for him to slip it on. He shouldn’t. 

Ghost shrugged off the hoodie he had been wearing and fully removed the mask. He avoided looking in the mirror as he gently slipping it on. For once, he had worn short sleeves, which was perfect. The soft fur on him made something in his brain fizzle. 

Reluctantly, he looked in the mirror. He didn’t hate what he saw. Still scarred, still too much like his Father. But it didn’t seem as bad.

Soap winced, always hating this feeling. The strings in his body tensing and wrapping around his muscles. One always trying to drag him to the sea. And now one tangled around his heart that pulled him to Ghost. It wasn’t the best of feelings normally, even worse when he already had been harboring a crush on him. 

He remembered his mom, a selkie taken from her home and forced to marry his dad, explain to him one day what it was like to have your coat stolen. 

She had spoken like it was a poem, though she had said it so sadly.

“What do you want me to be? What do you need me to be? 

I’ll be perfect at whatever you want. 

I’ll rip my heart out if you ask.

I’ll be your guard. I’ll be your wife. I’ll bleed myself dry.”

They didn’t get a choice. Soap had his coat taken before. Once he found it, he joined the army to get far, far away. He was too human to just fuck off and be a seal. 

Wanted to sometimes. 

Soap closed his eyes, forcing himself to relax. His injured leg and the bullet wound in his side meant he couldn’t go to Ghost. He’d take any orders he was given, like always. He just hoped Ghost was kinder than the previous coat holder. 

Ghost gathered everything up while still wearing a coat. He put his mask on and then, with great reluctance, took off the coat. He folded it carefully and gently before putting it on top of the clothes and blanket that Soap had requested. Soap would be stuck in medical a couple of days so he thought it would be nice to have. 

Ghost didn’t knock, Soap would be expecting him back, and he almost laughed when the heart monitor sped up. He dropped the things on his lap.

“There you go.” 

Soap stared at the coat for a second, freezing. “What?”

“I saw it and thought you’d want it.” Ghost wasn’t going to admit to the crime of putting it on. 

Soap flushed bright red but didn’t pick it up. Ghost frowned at him and pushed it to his chest to show him what else he got. Soap wrapped his arms around it and flushed more. 

“Thanks, Simon.” 

“No problem, Johnny.” Ghost patted his head without thinking. “Feel better soon, yeah?”

Soap nodded dumbly and Ghost eventually left.

Soap got his phone and immediately called his mom.

“A bhobain! How are you?”

“Máthair. Are you able to talk?” Soap said it softly and she immediately became more serious. 

“Yes. Are you okay? Your coat is it safe?” She switched to Gaelic and he followed suit. 

“You know that... guy I had a crush on?”

“Oh no.”

“He gave it back. Physically pushed it back in my hands.”

“Oh no...” 

“Are we married now?”

[box-of-roses]

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Ch. 5 | Heartbeats

Iwaizumi had done what he said he would. Once you both clocked out he walked you to his car and even opened the door for you. On the drive there he let you pick the music and you two made small talk. He was being very gentlemanly. As to be expected.

“So, how was work?” He let out a laugh and shook his head.

“You were there. You know how it was.”

“Yeah those knuckleheads never leave you alone do they?”

“Nope. You were there though so it wasn’t all bad.” He smiled and you could feel your cheeks heating up.

“They were being suspicious today. Did you notice?”

“Yeah, they were. Although they’re on their phones a lot today was a bit much. They were also checking the time almost obsessively?”

“Best not to think about it. I know I brought it up but look we’re here. We’re off work, we don’t have to deal with them.” You smiled and unbuckled. He told you to stay out though as he walked around the car and opened your door. “Why thank you sir Hajime.” You curtsied jokingly which sent both of you into a bit of laughter. When you reached the door he also held it open.

“After you.” You walked under his arm and quickly found the table Osamu had set aside for the two of you. Even though you told him he didn’t have to, he did anyway. He said it was the least he could do after you took pictures for his ad. Quickly looking over the menu you two placed your order and got back to talking.

In a booth hidden from your view sat Atsumu and Hinata. They could see both of you clear as day. They weren’t very shocked but they also were. While they knew Iwaizumi was the one you were going to see, they were shocked at how he was acting. He wasn’t usually this smiley at work. Although they looked cozy, Atsumu didn’t think either one was going to admit to the budding feelings. Which meant back to operation Mystery Gang.

Y/N felt like they were being watched but couldn’t figure out from where. “This is really nice. Are you going to let me pay today?”

“Who’s to say I didn’t call ahead and pay already?”

“Because you can’t have known what I was going to get?”

“I might not have but Osamu did.”

“That little traitor.” You glared in his direction but he just looked away and went back to helping another customer.

“Do you want to get dessert after this?”

“Sure! What do you want to get? I will be paying this time.”

“Fine. I’ll surrender. How about ice cream?” He smiled at your antics. He was really beginning to like you and it seemed like he wasn’t the only one who knew it.

Back at the table with Atsumu and Hinata they were freaking out. “Shoyo? Do you think he’s going to take them home?”

“Probably. It’d be kind of rude if he didn’t since he drove them here. He looks like he wants to hold their hand. Look at his eyes!!!”

“He looks like he’s getting a crush!” They were both very happy by this turn of events. After all Y/N deserved to be happy. They were going to question him when they did get together though. While they trusted him Y/N was important to all of them.

The walk back to the car was calm and light. They were poking fun at each other and laughing the whole time.

“Oh how you wound me! I can’t believe you Hajime!” You feigned being hurt as you slapped your hand over your heart. It was beating quite quickly.

“You started it! If you can’t handle it, don't dish it out.” He opened your door for you and waited till you buckled to close the door and walk to the other side. “Now, to ice cream and then to get you home.”

“Heck yeah! As much as I enjoy spending time with you, I'm getting a little tired.”

“We don’t have to get ice cream. I can drop you off now.” He looked over before putting his hand on the back of your seat to pull out.

“No! No! It’s fine, really I want to spend more time with you.” You smiled at him. Hopefully you weren’t being too obvious. Fortunately for you he’s as oblivious as you are.

“I want to spend more time with you too Y/N.” The ice cream shop was pretty close to the restaurant so it wasn’t too far of a drive. Both of you were sitting in peaceful silence.

After getting your ice cream. And dealing with a mishap. You decided to put ice cream on his nose and he decided to retaliate by doing the same to you. Both of your noses were now cold and the thought of your warm bed was nice.

Once he pulled into the complex he walked you to your door. You weren’t expecting him too but it was really nice.

“Thank you for tonight Hajime.” You face him and he faced you. He leaned down a bit and leaned against the wall.

“No problem, any time. I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N.” Neither of you moved. Your eyes were locked on one another. One of your neighbors returned home though and broke you out of your trance as she slammed her door.

“Goodbye Hajime.”

“Goodnight. Coffee tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” You smiled and closed your door.

I hope you guys enjoyed! My taglist is still open so either send an ask or comment and I’ll get you added <3!!!! My askbox is also open if you would like a specific request!

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated

Crossed out names mean I couldn’t tag you </3

Taglist: @101strawberries101 @bl4ckhoney @daddymaster21 @kaminapi @lovley212 @venusianrings

Masterlist

[nyctophiliq]

Ashe x Fem reader who is a new night shift employee for the Route 66 cafe. One night she wears a skirts that’s dangerously short and one of the other men get a little handsy. Ashe is having none of it.

Nw if this becomes a Drabble I’ll be so excited to see the other one shots you make! Also Ty for doings gods work, I speak on behalf of the lesbians: we love you 🫶

✮ — SEE YOU AGAIN ; elizabeth caledonia ashe

content warning ; afab reader. sfw ! — lowercase writing intended, reader being harassed, a bit suggestive just for plot reasons but nothing too too suggestive

wc ; 1,3 k

moss’ notes ; SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG there were just not sufficient ideas to fulfill this amazing req, so moss apologizes and hopes you see this anonie :) moss loves the lesbians too 💗

you worked at the diner on Route 66, a restaurant well out in the desert but still a popular place for locals to come around and have a bite. it was lively, with all kinds of people coming to eat, most of them going there after work or even just for fun. it was a nice change from being behind the register, where everything always smelled like food. it wasn’t your job to serve everyone, only take orders and deliver food when asked. it wasn’t easy, either, so the hours were long, which usually meant you didn’t get much sleep. your shift ended at 7 pm sharp, though, so you had plenty of time left before you would have to lock up and head home for some rest. you had spent a lot of sleepless nights lately, not sleeping because every time you closed your eyes you saw 

"hey, waitress- a coffee refill, pronto!" one of the savages shouted before turning back to his friends and laughing loudly, sharing snarky comments about you. there was not much you could do but pick up the coffee pot from behind the counter and walk to their table.

"anything else I can do for you, boys?" you gave them your best smile, taking a small, subtle step back to put some distance between you and the group. you did try, anyways. the customers never took anything seriously, but the one with the buzz cut was still staring at you. "uhm, yeah," he said, shifting slightly, putting his leg behind you to block your path, "just make sure my buddy here gets that coffee without spilling any on him." he grinned stupidly, his hand reaching across the table and his fingers going for the top of your thigh.

you swallowed thickly, nodding politely before tipping the glass pot and pouring the bitter black liquid into one of their mugs. his hand was moving to wrap or pinch your thigh and you normally let them play, it's silly to think more, you go home and sleep this off, men play smart with you all the time, not like it means something anyway. you picked up on seeing people flirt, especially after a few months at the diner now. they liked you because they thought you looked cute, or maybe they felt pity for the poor girl who was constantly trying to keep up with them. you preferred to think that you actually had more personality than that. and yet it happened every other night, these men coming in and harassing a desperate reaction out of you.

"leave her alone or I will be payin' a very special kind of attention to you." a tall, white-haired woman stepped to your side and placed her hand on your shoulder. she looked older, maybe mid-thirties, but definitely a woman that knew how to handle herself in a fight. she smiled warmly, giving her gaze from under her eyelashes toward the man holding you and letting her hand slip down to your hip. you flushed pink as your face got hotter, feeling your body tense at her sudden move. this woman is so cool, she's probably the most beautiful person you have ever seen, smiling nervously back at her as she began to rub circles on your hip with her thumb. you weren't used to such attention from women, not even women you'd dated.

the man scoffed, looking at his buddies before starting to laugh his fucking ass off. "or what, lady? you gonna paint our nails red hot like yours?" all of them started to laugh and the woman just sucked her teeth before whistling. a giant omnic appeared behind her, towering over all of you.

"you gonna be dealing with bob over here, he is heavy and knows I don't like my woman to be harassed."  she smiled wickedly, her hand sliding farther up on your hip until the tips of your breasts were pressed against her chest. you blushed harder, biting your lip and closing your eyes. it was just a play, to get those gross men to stop hitting on you, nothing more, you need to calm down.

the four-man looked at each other, laughing once again before the man with the buzz cut stood up, wiping his lips and giving a cocky smile to the woman. "okay lady, we get it, but sharing is caring, no? wonder how she would function on-"

"you are messing with deadlock property, boy." she cut him off, pushing a gun to his head, finger on the trigger, ready to pull it if needed.  you flinched as you noticed holding it close, using both of your bodies to make sure no one saw the gun, or even know it was there. it made you sick thinking about it. 

the man gulped before stepping aside and heading for the door. "it's alright, no need to hold a grudge, alright? we don't want to mess with the deadlock, okay? we were just going, excuse us... let's go gang!" he screamed like a little kid and they were out on the door within a blink of an eye.  you stared after them, wide-eyed, before lowering your hand from your hip and letting out a shaky breath. the woman laughed a bit, patting your cheek gently before grabbing you by the arm and leading you back to sit on a stool at the counter, ignoring your protests. 

"this is my number, don't be afraid to use it." she told you kindly as she scribbled onto your notepad she took whenever you were still in shock. she nodded, putting the stack of papers down on the counter and turned to go on her way.

"thank you... i'm y/n!" you started off quietly, but when it came to telling you her name you almost woke the dead of the desert around you. she turned around, a gentle smile plastering on her face before she brushes a longer white strand out of her face.

"the name's ashe."  she said with a small, sweet smile. she offered her hands to shake. you hesitantly grabbed hers, her hand feeling soft in comparison to how rough and dry yours were. "you call me if you are in trouble, any kind, alright sugar?"

"can i still call you if i am not in trouble?" you asked hesitantly, your eyes now staring past her form, trying to find something to focus on rather than that charming smile she is about to let pull on her lips.   she chuckled softly, squeezing your hand and releasing it quickly when she realized she was doing so.

"sure, I'll be waiting sweetheart" she winked at you as she slipped one of her hands into her pocket, the other tipping her hat before she could finally turn on her heels, throwing a couple of dollar bills on the table she was sitting at, you assume, and she left the diner with her friend named bob. 

your eyes sparkled as your fingers clutched the piece of paper now inside your apron's pocket, heart fluttering at the thought of seeing ashe again. you weren't even sure what you were gonna say into the phone once she picks up, but you were sure that you wanted to hear her voice once again, utter something like today. my woman...  you smiled softly as you headed back to the front of the diner, shaking your head lightly to clear it. tonight did not end up as planned, but at the very end of it you weren't complaining because you got to have her number and she was waiting for your call.

[torturemytummy]

So I’ve been having to go to the bathroom like 3-4 different times (5-6 on bad days) within an hour or two of waking up the past couple of weeks. I wake up to my tummy feeling full and starting to quietly groan. Within 10 minutes or so, the pressure starts building as my bowels wake up, slowly beginning to cramp and churn. So, I get out of bed, and usually the first trip is just to let some pressure and gas out so everything can start moving through me.

As I start drinking coffee and hitting my vape, things start to get more turbulent. By this time I’m usually running my hands in big circles on my belly, waiting for the first big wave to hit. This one is usually the most tame, releasing a little bit of the crampiness and bloat. As I finish my coffee though, things ramp up until I’m clutching my painful tummy, trying to soothe it as it empties the rest out between strained, sickly gurgles that send cramps through my middle.

So what I want is for someone to wake me up, hand me a coffee, and tell me to get into the car. I would probably already need to go by the time I got buckled up. First you’d drive me to a drive-thru because I should really eat something after waking up, because there might be a wait at the diner. My tummy is protesting before we even get there, already so full and rumbling. You get me a nice greasy breakfast sandwich and another big sugary coffee. You can feel how hard it’s getting already while I beg you to help soothe it.

We get to the restaurant and there’s a short wait, but it’s moving fast. You don’t have to tell me I can’t use the bathroom, but you do anyway. The sandwich and extra coffee is starting to make the gurgles worse and the bloat tighter and it digests. We get seated and you order me a classic diner breakfast— eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes, hash browns, and, yes— more coffee. By this point it’s getting pretty painful down there and my stomach keeps crying out with long groans as if it’s scared to be stuffed more.

I’ll eat the proteins first, which is less volume, but the gas starts even sooner. The carbs just completely fill out any space that was left. At this point my shirt would probably be riding up over my massively stretched, upset gut. The server comes for the check and you ask her to add a slice of chocolate cream pie. My tummy groans loudly, and the server side eyes us with a surprised look. Two forks? No, certainly not. It’s all me who crams each bite in to my distended stomach.

When we do get back to the car, I practically waddle in and put the seat back, both hands grasping the hard mass that my belly has become, bowels roaring for relief. You put your hand on my belly and the instant your put pressure on it a long, deep gurgle come out with a cramp that leaves me breathless. I can’t help but whine. I feel like I’m going to burst with every rumble.

It’s time to drive home, but first you pull off into the pharmacy. You make me walk in with you, shirt clinging to my loud, bursting belly, to the digestive care isle and pick out what laxatives you’re going to give me. Chewable, you decide, just for the irony of making me put more into my belly. You give me a few to start eating in the car. The pain is almost unbearable at this point. Every breath is shallow so as not to move my swollen insides. I can feel them writhing beneath my hands, bubbles bursting an inch below my fingertips. You tell me we’re almost home, just hold it, though I’m really not sure if I can. And I’m certainly not sure if I can handle whatever you’re going to be feeding my sick tummy next.

[cupcakeslushie]

Does Mikey try to prove himself? Since you said he’s scared that his family will not like him anymore like big mama?

MIKEY ASK TIME!!

@theartofeverything @lukasischillin

Mikey can be a total showboat during battles thanks to his time in the Battle Nexus, and he makes sure to be as useful as he can around the house because he’s got a similar mindset to Donnie in that he’s worried about his place in the family. Mikey is not an idiot, he knows Big Mama grew bored of him and that’s why he was put in the fighting pits. He grew up watching her toss the employees that disappointed her in there and thought he was special and that she would never throw him away—he was totally blindsided by her betrayal, and he won’t let that happen again. So he uses a lot of his energy into discovering new ways to be productive, be that cooking, helping the family with their trauma, or taking down bad guys. It’s not so much positive motivation but more desperation to be needed.

He’s always been great at reading emotions and picking up the self-help books and his research started as more of a way to handle his issues without alerting Splinter, Raph, or April to the fact that he was struggling with things. It was further luck then when Leo and Donnie show up, and he jumps at the chance to use his knowledge to help them as well—it makes him feel good to help them, but also if he’s not being useful he gets anxious.

Cooking is not something he necessarily enjoys at first, but he’s good at it…compared to Raph and Splinter, who are hopeless for the most part (Splinter can make like five or six dishes, but for the most part they order pizza or eat frozen meals or April will bring by take out). So Mikey seizes the opportunity to fill in yet another role. He does grow to love it the more experience he gets though.

Mikey is probably the worst at admitting he needs help after Leo. If he does have an episode or flashback of some kind which is bad enough that the others worry over him, he’ll manipulate his way out of being the center of attention and convince everyone he’s fine.

No one’s religious, but the idea of family and ancestry is important to them all connecting with each other!

@gumy-shark @snazzysa1amander

I talked before about how Big Mama got Mikey tutors for his education, one of which was an art tutor, so his style is more classical until he moves into the lair and he’s greeted with massive art block, for which April introduces him to street art and he falls in love with that. If you wanna know more on that check out this reply here!

Art for Mikey is kind of the one thing he does that’s just for himself—it’s not of any use to the family, but something he enjoys, and when he shares his art work with Leo, April, or Raph, it never feels the same as when he’d show Big Mama his work and she would look it over and judge if it was good enough to hang up in her lobby. When Splinter puts his stuff on the fridge, or Donnie dedicates a wall of his lab for a cork-board that’s void of any blueprints and solely filled with the bright, colorful sketches that Mikey’s gifted him—it doesn’t feel like Mikey’s trading parts of himself to earn his keep. Instead it feels more like building himself back up. Each piece the family saves does more to convince Mikey he’s not going anywhere, more so than any other chore he’s checked off for the day.

Donnie still loves ear bleeding techno and heavy metal. Leo likes more meditative, calming stuff, but is secretly probably a BTS fan. Raph likes hip-hop and stuff you can dance to. Mikey likes songs that’ll really get you hyped and rap. April likes boy bands, but she also has a love of classic rock and early 2000s pop. I’ll actually probably make a playlist soon with a few songs I think they would like or that suits their stories, and also songs that’ve been sent to me (some of which I’m saving in my inbox so when I do finally make the playlist I can have all of them in one relevant post! Just know if you’ve sent me an ask that’s song related, I’ve seen it and appreciate all the ideas! Those songs will find their way to a playlist hopefully soon!)

Hmm I never even thought of 2012 Mikey’s kusarigama but you’re so right that it would work well for when Mikey has to make that killing blow. He does switch his weapons sometimes between fights to keep things interesting, but mostly uses nunchucks. I do however think having that secret blade in them would be pretty beneficial! But when he leaves those behind and Splinter gifts him the ones he’ll use from then on, I think he’d be happy to have the less lethal version.

@ver-444 @littleblueberryartist Human designs here

Mikey would wear a cloaking broach when out and about the lobby and even though he never attended school he’s most familar with the way things are done topside out of all the brothers. It makes him the least stealthy cause he’s just not used to hiding. I’ll probably draw Human Mikey at some point. Though since cloaking broaches are kind a mystery in how they work, I honestly don’t know what I’d do. If Big Mama was the one who got Mikey his cloaking broach I’d have to imagine she’s make him look like her, but in my head I do think the boys would look Asian seeing as they have Splinter’s DNA—with Mikey and Donnie having darker skin tones and Leo and Raph being just a bit lighter (to parallel how Leo and Raph are lighter greens and Donnie and Mikey are darker greens).

It’s a toss up on Mikey, but I do know if he ever got his own cloaking broach after the fact, he would totally make himself look like Lou Jitsu’s son and nothing like Big Mama, and he would have no problem including his scars!

Mikey has fought I’d say one to two battles a day, six days a week for a year in the Nexus, I’m not doing any further math than that, sorry 😜

Dr Delicate Touch does exist, but as I’ve said, with Mikey so desperate to help the family and be useful, I’d say Dr. Delicate touch has even less patience for tomfoolery

@uniqueness351217 Big Mama will have some scheming going on with Draxum! She’s cut her losses for now and will regroup!

Venus started as Big Mama’s assistant in the year after Mikey started in the Battle Nexus, she is going to be more connected to Three than with Mikey at first. They have caught sight of the other in the few times Big Mama visited Mikey to gift him his little prizes, but they’ve never spoken.

@raisondetre2012 Thank you I’m glad you liked it! And unfortunately Mikey will find out Donnie’s…association with the Battle Nexus and it will create a pretty intense divide between them but that’s all I’ll say for now!

Donnie has always seen physical strength as something valuable that he could never achieve (even though Donnie boy is no slouch. Draxum just sucks) so he does look up to Raph and Mikey in that regard!

Oh these are so getting saved to be sketched out later!

Also just a note! I know some of y’all are probably worried that your asks aren’t going through. I have to admit am very slow in answering asks! Some of these are from a month or longer ago. I just like to give each ask a good amount of thought so it makes replies slower (also lol now that there’s more lore established I have to double check that I’m not contradicting myself on things, like a doofus)!

I do apologize for taking so long for some of y’all, but I do have a pretty full inbox so I’d like to thank everyone for their patience! You guys are the best and I always love reading all y’all’s theories and questions!

❤️-Slushie

[linnetagain]

List of random Season/skating/Bloodweave thoughts that I don’t know justify their own asks but that I thought you might like to hear anyway:

Chapter 1, Karlach asking Astarion about pay: “Vroomvroom: so you’ll suddenly do a really shit job in week 5 then? :P” YOU CHEEKY LITTLE BUGGER, YOU (I love it, A+ foreshadowing)

I stumbled across Ryan Dunk’s “Freddy Mercury on Ice” skate, and his butt was weirdly distracting. I’m very aspec, is this what the allosexuals mean when they say a pair of jeans makes their butt look good? Why do I keep looking at his butt, shut up and let me watch the skate

The “middle finger” skate Astarion did while Gale was in the hospital was to Looking at Me by Sabrina Carpenter, right? I’m basing this on its order in my mega playlist, I can never remember what chapter things happen in and I do not have TIME to reread the whole thing again, no matter how enjoyable it would be. Anyway. I finally listened to Looking at Me yesterday, and then listened to it another 37 times. Holy cha-cha music, I was not expecting the mariachi trumpet sound. So sassy, I love it. (I did ballroom for about a year and half in high school, back in yonder years of 2011-2012. I was on the standard team, but sometimes I still get beat over the head with the urge to Do Something Latin by certain pop songs). But, more to the point, I LOVE the lyrics for this story moment. For all Amy’s strategizing about song choice and how they need to handle the narrative with Gale’s hospitalization, I think Astarion freaking nailed it—you think they’re looking at (Gale)? They’re looking at me. Media tries to make a big deal about Gale’s collapse, or Astarion’s response, or the fact that he’s showing up to Hessie’s school, or any potential leaked footage of the Mystra Kerfuffle backstage, or anything Cazador tries, or ANYTHING—Astarion draws their gaze instead, whether they want it or not (just look for the broken necks). I can’t remember the exact names of the maneuvers you can pick when you level up a fighter in-game, but there’s one that will force nearby enemies to attack you instead of your allies. That’s what this reminds me of.

Cool factoid about me: I got to go on a field trip in 1st grade to a nearby ice rink during the lead up to the 2002 Olympics, and we got to watch a skating pair rehearse their routines. After some research, I THINK it was the French ice dancing team, Gwendol Peizerat and Marina Anissina, who won gold in one of their events. The routine I got to watch was probably one of these! Honestly, the thing I remember most is the dude’s luxurious hair XD

Heads up: I am going to attempt to draw Gale & Astarion in contrasting skating costumes, drawing from male/female costumes, but making both of them gender non-conforming/androgynous. Gonna try and give Gale his long skirt. I’ll report back.

Imagine, if you will, all of Gale’s official music videos going forward incorporating dance/skating choreography from Astarion. I remember a gazillion years ago, when Lindsey Stirling was on a “dancing with the stars” type webshow where all the stars were YouTubers, her music videos going forward all credited her pro dance partner as the paid choreographer. Ice skate music videos. Piano on the ice rink. Gale singing (lip-syncing?) while skating. Outdoor skating on location. Maybe Gale skates with him, maybe it’s just Astarion, maybe it’s just Gale! Who knows. Ice skate music videos.

I have had this vivid image for… weeks, honestly, I can’t remember which chapter of my first read-through triggered this, of their final skate being some kind of dope mashup of Golden and Always You, with Astarion’s back and arms and Gale’s chest exposed, with gold body paint highlighting each of their scars. Because kintsugi. I figure Astarion would be the one to design and make/customize the costumes, cuz I do not trust Volo even in the slightest with something like that. Maybe it would pair with Cazador being publicly denounced and/or arrested, like a “do these look like they came from a fall to you??” I don’t know. Maybe there’d be a secret third song that Gale has yet to write that the other two would morph into, something triumphant to resolve the story of the skate/the songs, where Golden is kind of hindsight bittersweet and Always You is a pining song.

Ugh. I wish I had filk powers and could make Gale’s songs real. YO, FAN COMPOSERS/FILK MUSICIANS, I HAVE A PROJECT FOR YOU GIFT-WRAPPED AND READY TO GO—

By any chance, do you have video examples of the particular moves that the boys use in their skates? Both Astarion’s TikToks and their competition pieces. For reasons. No, shush, no guessing.

I found some really cool skating vids to share, but my YouTube is being a BUTT so perhaps that shall be a separate ask. Welp.

HEHEHEHE

Ice skater's glutes are INSANE. I know in canon Astarion has a itty bitty tush, but in season that man is CAKED.

Yes it was Looking at Me!! I have so much fun choosing the songs

Gale is absolutely still working on that song he's been writing about Astarion and it's about to get a whole new angle (so, less sad and pine-y) and I love to imagine Astarion in the music video or choreographing it, haha!

I do have examples of specific moves but depressingly few of them have names - would you be interested in me linking the YouTube videos with the timestamps? Would that be useful?

I'm sorry I haven't responded to the rest of your points but it was either YES, GOOD, YES or I CAN'T ANSWER THAT WITHOUT SPOILERS so I hope you'll forgive me. Thank you so much for your enthusiasm it's so appreciated ily 💕💕

[sibylsleaves]

i’ve got the feeling you’re the right thing after all

3k | rated T | read on ao3

“It’s not a big deal,” he says, which obviously Eddie doesn’t buy for a second.

“Not a big deal?” Eddie echoes. “Is that what you’re trying to tell yourself? Have you thought about what it’s going to feel like? What it’s going to do to you, to see them with a kid that shares your genes but isn’t yours?”

“Hen said the same thing,” Buck says into his lap.

“And?”


“And what does it matter, Eddie?”

or, Buck tells Eddie about his decision. Eddie has some feelings about it.

After Connor and Kameron leave—after their copious hugs and outpourings of gratitude—Buck sits in his silent apartment alone.

It’s a good thing, what he’s doing for them. He knows it is. They were so happy when he agreed.

So what if his stomach twists a little when he thinks about them and the little child that might one day toddle around their new house, with bright blue eyes and unruly curls.

They get to have that. They deserve to have that, even if Buck doesn’t.

The buzz of his phone cuts through the quiet. Buck fumbles to look at the screen, and sees Eddie flash across it.

He answers without thinking. “Eddie!”

“Buck, hey,” Eddie’s voice comes through. Buck feels instantly less jittery. “I just dropped Chris at school. You wanna come over in a bit? Missed you at work yesterday.”

It does something funny to Buck’s insides, the casual way Eddie says Missed you.

“I know Chris would like to see you, too, if you want to stick around for pick-up,” Eddie continues. “He’s been pretty upset about the whole no video games thing, and he could use the company.”

“Yeah, of course,” Buck says. As if he would ever say no to seeing Chris. “I’ll be there in an hour?”

“See you soon,” Eddie replies, his voice so warm it makes Buck not want to hang up, even though he’d be hanging up in order to go see him.

“See you,” Buck echoes, and ends the call.

This is good. This is just what he needs—the perfect distraction from his own thoughts.

Forty-three minutes later, he’s plopping himself down on Eddie’s couch and Eddie’s handing him a mug of coffee.

“So, how is everything with Chris?” Buck asks, before Eddie can say anything.

“Better,” Eddie says, sipping his own coffee. “I think. I caught him playing video games with his friends the other night and we kinda had it out. He called me a jerk.”

“Ouch,” Buck says with a wince.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. He tells Buck about the whole conversation, blow by blow, and then he says, “Do you think I handled it okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Buck says. “You didn’t yell. You opened up with him, instead of just getting mad. You got to the root of the issue and laid down boundaries. It sounds like you did great. You always do, Eddie.”

“You don’t think grounding him a second week was too harsh?” Eddie asks.

Buck blinks. Eddie asks him to weigh in on parenting stuff all the time, this isn’t anything new, but something about the question catches Buck off-guard.

He’s not Chris’s parent. He doesn’t get a say, not really.

He shrugs. “You’re his dad, Eddie. If you think it’s fair, then it probably is.”

Eddie scrunches his lip a little, like he’s not sure he likes Buck’s answer.

Buck hastens to change the subject, “So, tell me about that dog OD the other day. Kinda mad I missed it, to be honest.”

Eddie’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, too bad you and Hen were busy getting drunk at 2 o’clock in the afternoon. You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

His lips are curled in an amused smile, but there’s a crease in his forehead that tells Buck he’s more concerned than he’s letting on.

“Oh, you know, I just went over there to check up on her,” Buck answers easily.

“And wound up doing shots?”

Buck shrugs.

“Okay,” Eddie says, putting his coffee up aside, clearly at the end of some rope Buck hadn’t realized he was climbing. “What is going on with you?”

(keep reading on ao3)

[yoditorian]

Lacuna - The Rewrite - Part 2.5

din/gn!reader

the second half of part two's rewrite, my beloved (i say, as if it has not tormented me for the better part of the last three weeks)

original part 2//series masterlist//main masterlist

word count: 3.3k // warnings: some swears, too many italics, non-explicit smut which i know is a turn off but frankly i Don't Care, 18+ no babies

Okay, so it’s not the greatest idea anyone’s ever had - but it’s better than the big fat nothing you had planned before.

Din’s still not impressed. 

“You want to what ?” Even the static crackle of the helmet can’t disguise the fact that he’s clearly not into this plan. At all. And that’s fair enough, you’re not overly keen on it yourself, but time is running out and you’re not sure how much longer this guy is going to stick around planetside. Then you’ll both be back to square one.

“Look,” You sigh heavily, hands landing on your hips, “I need intel, you need the payday. We’re after the information, not the guy, protection was a negotiation tactic.” 

You shrug, kicking a boot in the soil at your feet - ignoring the way he recoils as you explain. In any other situation, this would be risky. Proposing this kind of deal to a bounty hunter, especially one presumably hired by the other side. But this is Din. You know Din, or at least you know him well enough that you’re sure he isn’t going to double cross you. You’ve seen him angry, focused, ruthless, but never once has that side of him been turned on you. He’s trustworthy, which is about all you can hope for in a galaxy where you’re risking your life for every scrap of information you can get your grubby little hands on. 

“That’s harsh.” He says, his tone clipped. Like he’s worried you’ll go back on your word just as easily as you’re prepared to double back on Draven’s promise to his target. Like he doesn’t know you at all. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, that he’d think you’d do that to him, but that’s something to lose sleep over later. You have to stay focused.

“That’s war.” You snap back.

Okay, so maybe it’s a little bit difficult to stay on task knowing that he doesn’t trust you the way you trust him. 

“Once I have the intel, he’s useless to us. I’ll give him the rendezvous point for pick up, and you can grab him on his way.” You press on, ignoring the churning in your stomach. There’s a job to do. You can lament about it to Shara when you get back to base, she’ll rant and rave and call him a stuck up, no good buckethead. Among other things. She’ll tell you that you can do better, that she’s got a whole roster of potential flings for you in her back pocket. You might say yes, it won’t dampen your feelings for Din, but it might take your mind off of him for a night.

“What about your commander?”

You don’t know why he’s suddenly so worried about the repercussions you already know you won’t face when you get back. You don’t know why you feel so apprehensive about telling him that there won’t be any consequences. It’s not all that different from Ran’s station, doing what it takes to get the job done regardless of the collateral damage it causes. That’s what worries you, that he’ll see you differently. Because you haven’t gone on to join the Rebellion and fight the good fight the way you wanted to. You’re still stealing and lying and cheating your way through life, there’s a loss of dignity in there somewhere. You wanted freedom - and yet, you’re still following orders from a man who doesn’t care for the consequences. The orders which only specified getting the drive and any other useful tidbits the informant might have. You’re sure General Draven has no intentions of protecting him, even if you did bring him back to base with you.

“I can handle my commanding officer.” You leave it at that. Shut down, closed off, eyes hard. Maybe you’re not Draven’s best, but you work hard in the job you didn’t ask for, you’ve yet to bring him a bad tip, and he’s got a hell of a soft spot for you. You could probably go back empty handed, only a vague excuse of the deal going bad and not even get a slap on the wrist. From him at least. It wouldn’t shock you if he was the one standing between you and a pilot seat.

His gaze sits heavy on your shoulders as he watches you, Din knows that, but he’s never quite been able to school himself into apparent apathy when it comes to you. He’s not convinced, still. You’re holding something back from him, he’s sure of that, with your tight shoulders and barely furrowed brow. He’s known you long enough to work out your tells. Somewhere along the way he’s fumbled something, steamed that crease of frustration into your forehead. You mistake his silence for another question. It’s not the one he wants to ask.

“They just want the intel. No one will bat an eye if I go back alone, what am I going to do against a Mandalorian bounty hunter anyway? I wouldn’t stand a chance.”

He doesn’t miss the weight of your words. A double meaning, hidden somewhere in your premixed excuse for your commanders. But he says nothing. Leaves them hanging in the air - it’s better than admitting that, between the two of you, the one who doesn’t stand a chance is him.

You’re back at the cantina the next day, at the same table, sipping the same drink. Just waiting. Din didn’t love the idea. He’d wanted to find the guy last night, shake him down for the datastick, and freeze him into carbonite as soon as possible. But you know that the mark would vanish at the vaguest whisper of a bounty hunter in the city, if he hasn’t already. He might be playing both sides of the war, but this guy definitely isn’t stupid. 

The meeting window is closing, and you’re starting to wonder if your informant has already fled the planet, by the time a stranger slides into the cracked leather of the booth across the table from you. He’s unremarkable in every aspect. The perfect spy - you can only hope his fear of the Empire outweighs his fear of the Rebellion. Or maybe the other way around. Whichever option ensures that he hasn’t called for a squad of Stormtroopers to knock the doors down and snatch you. You’d barely managed to slip out of the back doors the last time that happened, you’re not about to risk it again. 

You weren’t given a name, and you’re sure he wasn’t given yours. Only a vague description, a table number, and a brief time window for him to show.

“I hope this seat isn’t taken.” He says lowly, refusing to meet your eyes. His own are skirting around the few fellow patrons, staring into the bottom of their own drinks in the dim light. Hope . That’s your cue.

“I was just leaving, hoping I can catch the last of the light on the ridge. It’s all yours.” You reply coolly. Your corresponding code word is dropped in about as casually as you can manage. Calm, confident, and if he’s not your guy he’ll be none the wiser. But he is. Because he slides a datastick across the table so quickly you almost don’t catch it. You stuff it into your pocket and rise from your seat slowly, making sure he watches as you slip a bit of paper under your mostly empty glass. A docking bay number, a time. That’s all he needs. You don’t stick around any longer, leave him alone in the booth as quietly as you can. All you can do now is pray that this plan works. You trust Din, even if he doesn’t hold you in the same regard - but it’s the informant you’re worried about.

The man’s hood is pushed off of his head by the wind that whips around in the empty corner of the docking bays. Only you and your ship in view, a perfect setting. The less witnesses, the better. You raise your hand to him from where you sit, perched on the loading ramp of your transport ship, to catch his attention and his pace picks up just a little. He doesn’t get far.

Din appears silently, stealthily, behind his mark in the waning sunlight. You’re not even sure where he could have been hiding, but the confidence is rolling off of him in waves. You can feel it even at your distance. This is what he was trained to do, what he was raised for. It’s a glimpse of the man you knew at Ran’s station. The man you, against all your better judgement, fell for. It looks fucking good on him. 

You can’t help but study the hard outline of his arm, tense in his suit as you commit it to memory, when he brings the butt of his blaster down hard on the bounty’s head. Unconscious in one swing, you shouldn’t find it as attractive as you do. Din doesn’t make a sound when he hauls the fully grown man over his shoulder, lifting him apparently effortlessly and carrying him off to wherever he’s stowed his own ship. You let yourself wonder if he still uses the Razor Crest after all these years, or if he sold it on. You wouldn’t blame him for it. No beacon, ample cargo space, quick as all hell - it’s a valuable ship, especially the way times have gone. You concentrate on the maths, calculating exactly how much the rust bucket would be worth nowadays, in a fruitless effort to calm your suddenly thundering pulse. But then he’s rounding the corner again, strides confident, and aimed straight towards you. All hunter, all Mandalorian. It’s hot.

“You get what you needed?” He asks as he steps onto the loading ramp, standing above you in the quickly dying sunlight. It’s a weighted question, but you nod even though only half of the answer is yes. There’s something else screaming for attention, something deep inside of you is pulled taught with need, on the verge of snapping altogether. You wonder if he feels it too. 

“Did you find your people?” You ask in kind as you get to your feet slowly, as he takes another step towards you, backs you further into the belly of the ship. It’s all so familiar, even if it’s only ever played out once before. The memory is vivid and faded at the same time. Worn from the amount of times it’s been relived. He’s taken you a hundred times in your mind since, if you’re speaking for yourself. You wonder if he’s done the same on late nights, sitting for hours in hyperspace, remembering . It’s a dangerous game.

He nods slowly, obviously stalling before he makes his decision. It’s a big one, bigger than before, you’re sure of it. If he’s found his people, you don’t think you can convince him to part with his helmet again. And you really, really , need him to kiss you right now. 

“And the Rebellion?”

“They’ll be satisfied.” Your reply is soft, the datastick secured safely in your jacket pocket. You only realise you’ve hit the panel on the wall when the boarding ramp starts to raise. With the sun already set and the sky quickly darkening, you won’t be able to see an inch in front of your face once it closes.

“Yeah? Good.”

And then the ramp locks up, and he’s on you. Breathlessly, desperately , his helmet hits the floor with a thunderous clang but he doesn’t even break away from you to try and see where it landed. Your ankle knocks against the cool metal of it as Din swallows you whole. Inhaling your every breath, stripping the both of you until there’s no more barriers. No worn leather on your shoulders, no cold Beskar on his chest. Just you and him, skin to skin, pressed so close together that nothing in the galaxy could pull you apart. His lips don’t leave yours once as he manoeuvres you through the small space. 

There’s something in this kiss, something profoundly different to the last time. Your memory is hazy and maybe a little rose tinted, but you’re sure he was softer. This is all tongue and teeth and hands, but you don’t mind. You like it. You like the way he’s taken control and backed you up towards the pull out bunk. It’s not meant for any more than short naps in lightspeed, and somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if you’ll break it, but then he moves from your lips to your neck and you can’t find it in yourself to care. You hope you do .

You take his lead and let yourself get lost in him completely. Every touch, every kiss, every lick, has you begging him. For what, you’re not sure. You just need more. Of him. Of his skin under your hands and his moans in your ears and his taste on your tongue. You’re not sure you’ve ever needed anything as desperately as you need him to take you. Claim you. Maybe it’s a little primitive, but you can’t stop thinking about the way he took the bounty. One fell swoop of his arm and the man was down. Only Din could do something like that, only a warrior from a league of warriors. Their stories are legend, and you have one panting into your mouth. It’s delicious.

God above, he wants to drown in you. In everything, anything, you’ll give him. Nothing is worth being denied this - denied you. He licks a hot stripe up your throat and revels in your choked gasp, he could give it all up if it meant he would hear that for the rest of time. He won’t though, he knows that, somewhere in his heart of hearts. You have loyalties and he has loyalties and none of them are to each other, not really. Maybe that’s why he holds you a little tighter than before. Because the last time was just that, or at least you’d both been under the impression that it was. A chance meeting, an accident. He’s not foolish enough to believe in accidents and coincidence anymore. 

Din really thought he was ready, to throw himself back into the covert, to give them everything. And he is. But he doesn’t want to share this part of him with anybody but you. In every crowd he is the exception, he is the stand out. Faceless. Nameless. Mandalorian. But you know his name, you know him. You know how to anticipate his movements in a fight, you know how best to talk him down after a bad job. You know him. Din Djarin has not been known for a very long time. Not until you, not until now. You’re barely coming down, bodies panting, sweating, but still wanting. You find an anchor in his hair as he kisses down your body to disappear between your thighs again to clean up the mess of both of you.

“Just stay until I’m asleep, please?” You whisper afterwards, voice hoarse. Din picks his head up from where he’s buried it into your neck, his body half covering your own, the warm weight of him shielding you from the chill of the night. He pulls the old blanket at the foot of the bed up and around you both. Promises you. And he does, he can give you that much. 

Din wakes just before sunrise, the world outside of the cockpit that kind of grey-blue that only seems to exist right before dawn. You’ve shifted in your sleep curling into his chest almost completely, knees drawn up tight against your body. He slips the pillow he was resting on into your arms in his place when he eases himself from the scratchy sheet. Watching the way you inhale his smell from it, curling around it with a contented sigh, is almost enough to convince him to stay. Almost. But he has bounties and you have a mission and soon enough real life will have to take over. Still, he allows himself this quiet moment to pretend, before he has to turn back into who he really is.

He didn’t dress you this time.

You wake up cold and alone and even though you knew this would happen, it still makes your heart ache somewhere deep in your chest. A hollow nothing sits somewhere just underneath it, as per usual. But the pillow you’ve wrapped yourself around smells like he does. You scrabble around in the sheets until you find the rough crochet of your blanket, lifting the wool to your nose and smelling nothing but Din. You wonder if the flight back to Yavin IV might feel a little lighter now, it doesn’t.

“Where’s the informant?” Draven asks the question before you even get a chance to hand over the stick.

“Got jumped by a bounty hunter.” You reply calmly, fishing around in the pocket of your jacket for the datastick. You’re on time, with the intel. He can’t complain.

“And you couldn’t handle a bounty-”

“A Mandalorian bounty hunter. I wasn’t about to get in the middle of that.”

General Draven regards you carefully from his seat as you hand the drive over, you know he suspects something . But it’s not his place to decide how you do your job, only that it gets done. A responsibility that won’t fall to him come the morning. He stands when the door behind you slides open, gestures to his now empty seat, and makes his way across the command room to glare at a chart. You’re expecting anyone except the man who takes his place in front of you.

“Congratulations Lieutenant.” Bail Organa smiles, and you’re sure there’s protocol buried somewhere in your brain for how you should react. Do you salute? You’re not sure, you’re stuck on Lieutenant still.

“Sir, I don’t - I don’t rank.” You’re pretty certain that it’s against the rules to flat out tell him he’s wrong. Your polite rebuttal should correct him, but it only makes his grin wider.

“The paperwork was submitted before you left,” He pulls a datapad from his pocket and reads, “ ‘A good spy, but shines in the air.’ Lieutenant Bey made a compelling argument, that’s where we need you. You’ll meet with Green Squadron first thing in the morning.” He leans back in the chair to watch you try and reign in the buzzing in your veins. You’re so preoccupied with trying to keep your feet on the ground that you almost miss your squadron assignment. As if they’d put you anywhere else.

“Green?”

“We can always reassign you, I do have that power.”

“No! I -” You’re only a little bit embarrassed about the eyes you draw with your outburst, “Thank you, sir.”

You should absolutely apologise for interrupting, but you’re sure that the only sound you’ll be able to make is an excited squeal. This is it . This is what you’ve worked so hard for, it feels like your whole life has been leading up to the moment Senator Bail Organa slides the Lieutenant badge across the table.

“You remind me of my daughter,” He muses as you stare at it in awe, “Fourteen years old, and already far too big for any room. Make her proud, Lieutenant. You’re dismissed.”

You leave with the new stripes stuck proudly to your flight suit and a blinding grin, desperate to find Shara and tell her the news. Even though she probably already knows, you want to be the one to share it with her. You spot her tucked in the front row of a small crowd around a transport, scruffy and exhausted looking soldiers piling out every which way. Until one man looks up to search the welcoming party, a face you recognise from the fuzzy holo she’d shown you late one night.

Your smile only grows when Shara throws herself into Kes’ arms, their happiness palpable as they cling to each other. And you’re happy. Really, you are. It’s just that watching them revel in one another’s company makes somewhere deep in your chest ache. Like there’s something missing.

i don't have access to my old taglist forms anymore so feel free to message or drop me an ask if you want to be tagged in future :)

[fbfh]

husband!kit walker x reader hcs

wc: 900

genre: fluff, domestic bliss

warnings: kit being adorable, optional mention of reader having a bad family, kit standing up for you, kit is a good husband and head over heels for you

song rec: be my baby - the ronettes

a/n: I LOVE THIS MAN!!!! I LOVE HIM!!!!!!! AWOOGA!!!!!! also I actually rested and it only took two days and I feel literally reborn???? I should do that more often lol

@yesv01

Honestly I can’t even start with dating headcanons

Kit Walker is such pure raw husband material that if you get within six feet of him a diamond ring appears on your finger

He’s a simple man really

He just wants to do a good job at some honest work to provide for you

Come home to your cozy house you share

Kiss you on the lips and dance around your kitchen while dinner cooks

Maybe a couple of rugrats running around 

You know that tiktok audio of “you can pick anyone fictional to be your husband but divorce is never an option” “I COULD GO INTO HEAVY DETAIL. AND I WILL.”

It’s Kit

That’s literally Kit

If you need a fake husband 

Or a temporary husband 

Don’t choose Kit

Bc he will treat you so fucking well

You’ll get way way way too attached

To get this out of the way

I hate to see Kit in distress or pain

But dear god does he look hot when he is

Anyway back to happy Kit

Which is all the time bc he is so so happy around you

I’ve said it before I’ll say it again, this man’s full name is Kit “that’s my wife!” (proceeds to knock someone out swiftly with one punch) Walker

He starts every morning by waking up smiling

Because he gets to wake up next to you

He looks at you, all sun soaked in the morning light, and he can’t believe he gets to live another day with a living dream come true like you

Then he wakes you up with kisses

So so so many kisses

Sometimes other things but that’s another story (and not for the sfw hcs)

This man knows everything about you

He knows how you like your coffee or tea or whatever, your favorite food, your favorite songs for kitchen dancing

He knows everything you love and hate

Yk the “excuse me! he asked for no pickles >:(“ meme

That’s Kit

Kit will (very politely bc he’s kind and understands how hard it is to work jobs that involve the general public bc of all the assholes that come through the garage) fix your order if someone gets it wrong

When someone asks if he’s your boyfriend he’ll happily and proudly correct them that he’s actually your husband

He doesn’t do the thing where he holds up his hand and points to his ring but he will pull you close and wrap his arms around you 

And most likely kiss you in front of the person

God I haven’t brought up The Look in a while

But Kit Walker CONSTANTLY looks at you with The Look 

Like all the goddamn time 

He’s not racist, probably an ally, and definitely a feminist

And he loves you so so much

God he’s such a catch

Once your friends spend a few minutes around him they start to realize that too

Or anyone really

You’re usually met with “wow where did you dig him up?? Where did you find him?? How do I get one??” 

Feel free to say you met at the mental hospital bc no one can tell if you’re joking or not

And he is literally perfect to bring as your date to holiday parties and family events

I mean he’s your husband so why wouldn’t he be your date

But no matter how hectic or crazy family stuff gets, he can totally handle it

He’s the perfect buffer

He’s so naturally smooth and likable and charming 

Everyone in your life that meets him totally approves

I mean all they have to do is see the way he looks at you

No one can deny that

If your family is really bad

Or generally not someone you want to be around

Kit will defend the HELL out of you

He’s not scared of confrontation, especially if it’s on your behalf 

And he is not scared to counter any underhanded comments with “Now, what did you mean by that?”

Will not let it go

He’s not going to let anyone talk shit about his spouse, his love, his sweetheart 

Especially the people that should have your back

It’s so interesting to watch because even when he’s confronting someone and defending you and telling people off for thinking they can treat you like that

It still doesn’t make him feel scary or less gentle than you know he is

And he is so so gentle with you

He says I love you all the time

With every touch

Every kiss

Every look and act of service

He’s saying it

He tells you how much he loves you all the time

Because how can he not??

You’re the most knockout dynamite dreamboat he could ever hope to be around 

He doesn’t know how he got you to fall for him back 

How he got you to love him

(he absolutely swept you off your feet)

But he’s just so glad that you do

He knows you inside and out

He knows everything about you

And he loves all of it

And you know everything about him

And you love him right back

Because you guys really are a match made in heaven

[aurora567]

Morbid Curiosity Ch. 2

Warning: this story will contain mature content such as but not limited to sex, cursing, blood, violence, fighting.

Summary: This is a short Hanma/OC story that will have 4 chapters. So enjoy.

Word count: 2920

Last chapter Next Chapter

That first weekend was just the start of the routine she somehow ended up joining into. At first she blamed her curiosity for being the reason she returned the next Sunday only to once again find Hanma standing outside the brothel at the same time as the last weekend when she ran into him, rather literally by accident. At least this time she knew better than to be looking at her cell phone texting and walking. 

At the sight of her Hanma had flashed a creepy grin at her. Which had her resisting the urge to shiver as she scowled at him with her resting bitch face as she had been told it was. 

“Hey girlie,” he had called out in greeting. Even giving her a lazy wave with the hand that had punishment inked across the top. 

“I told you not to call me that. It’s Kokumori,” she reminded him of her name as she glared at him. He just found that entertaining and laughed at her. 

Like last weekend she had followed the two idiots into the park. This time she found herself a comfortable looking spot in the grass and sat down. Not overly interested in watching them fight. Sure in ways it was interesting to watch the two tall men go at each other. They were both fast and strong. But once blood was drawn she was no longer interested. She still could not understand hurting each other to such extremes for no reason. She could not understand why Draken even agreed to such stupidity? And she even asked him once the fight had stopped. 

“Why do you even agree with this Draken?” She had finally asked curiously after Hanma had left. 

“Because that asshole will just annoy the shit out of me every day till I agree. Was just easier to agree, pick a date and just fight him,” He admitted to her. He also couldn’t deny it was fun most days. 

“That still makes no sense to me. He should just learn to take being told no. But something tells me you don’t mind. Otherwise you probably would have beat the shit out of him till he understood when you told him no,” she said with a sigh as she looked over at Draken. He simply flashed her a sheepish smile. Yep she had been correct. He enjoyed this weird friendship. If she could even call it that between the two guys. 

“Come on, let's get you cleaned up,” she said, starting to stand up. 

“Huh and do that where?” Draken asked, not yet moving from his spot. 

“Your place would make the most sense since it’s the closest,” she said as she looked down at Draken as she stood there waiting for him to get up. 

“Nah it’s okay,” Draken said as he refused to get up. She felt her eyebrows pull together at his reluctance to go to his place. She should not have been surprised. He had always been this way with her. She always assumed he was just ashamed of living in a brothel. She likes to think that it did not bother her, that surely the place could not be that bad. But she knew better than to push the subject. 

“Alright stay put and I’ll go grab some stuff then,” she ordered before turning and running off to look for a convenient store. Grabbing some disinfectant, bandages and tissue so she could clean his injuries up. 

He seemed a little reluctant to the idea and yet he was still sitting in the same spot she had left him at as she returned to the park. With a bag of stuff in her hand she moved to kneel beside him. Pulling out the tissue and disinfectant she had to nearly man handle him in order to get him to let her clean up at least his face. They both sat in silence as she worked at cleaning him up before they parted ways and both left the old park. 

That had been how she started joining the guys on their Sunday fights. After the second weekend she grew wiser and started to prepare before the Sunday morning fights.

On the third Sunday she arrived with a backpack in hand. One she had spent the entire week packing with everything she felt was important. The disinfectant she had bought, all sorts of types of bandages. A few towels and some tissue’s. Even a few bottles of water and a container of painkillers. 

When Hanma saw her for a third time in a row he arched a brow at her. He did not understand why she was suddenly showing up every Sunday. Poor thing was clearly trying so hard. And Hanma found it hilarious. At least it added an extra fun element to his Sunday fights with Draken.

She followed them like a lost little puppy. Normally Hanma would have found that annoying. But for some reason she was different. She clearly had to travel a bit to reach Draken’s. And on the third visit she arrived with a backpack over her back. 

“Hey there little kitten,” Hanma teased her. Which she glared at him for. She was so easy to get a reaction from. And she still had yet to show him any fear. She had more than enough time to learn about him. To hear the rumours, and even more she has watched him fight with Draken twice now. And yet she had never once looked at him in fear. Oh how he wanted to change that. But he wouldn’t, not yet at least. 

“Don’t call me that,” she hissed at him. Which just earned her a smirk from him. 

As always Draken seemed to time his arrival perfectly to prevent a fight from breaking out between the two of them. As soon as Draken arrived the argument was forgotten and she was his little shadow. Following him around with big wide eyes and a look of love that Draken would never return. It almost made Hanma want to barf. She was to stupid to see he would not return her feelings. But hey it was still entertaining to watch, even if it was also kind of disgusting to him. 

Like the last two times she found herself somewhere out of the way that she sat down at. After all this could take half an hour or longer depending on how much fun they had and their stamina for the day. Hanma was feeling good as a wide grin pulled at his lips. His right hand with the sign for punishment raises up to run through his gelled back hair as he pushes a loose strand of hair back from his face. 

And with that the two men were throwing punches and kicks at one another. She paid them no attention. The fighting had lost its entertainment long ago for her. She still could not wrap her mind around why they even did this. Then again how was she to know how the mind of 17 year old boys worked. Didn’t help that she questioned the sanity of both men too. 

Oh well it didn’t matter. She dedicated her Sunday mornings to this. So she sat there bored out of her mind till the guys tuckered themselves out. Then she would wave them both over. Well she meant for Draken to come over but Hanma followed him. Pulling out a clean towel she moved to kneel beside Draken. And like the last weekend she started cleaning him up. Cleaning the cuts and blood from his face before sticking a bandaid anywhere that refused to stop bleeding in the time it took to clean him up. 

Hanma sat back trying not to laugh as the girl fussed over Drakens injuries. Even when he complained she just gave him a sassy reply. She was going to patch up the blonde idiot if it was the last thing she did. Hanma just lit himself a post fight smoke and sat back to watch the show. Even chuckling as she had to almost wrestle Draken to be allowed to stick a bandage to a spot above his right eyebrow that did not want to stop bleeding. 

When Hanma snickered, Draken just shot him a hard glare. Which had him only laughing harder. This little love sick show that they were putting on was almost as funny as it was nauseating. Hanma didn’t get why the girl was so adamant that she was going to clean Drakens wounds. Did she not understand that would change nothing? He was not magically going to fall for her just cause she cared for him. It was obvious that Draken did not want nor care for her help. So why let her? Ah he bet Draken was too nice to tell the girl to piss off. 

Puffing at his cigarette, Hanma was wondering what he should do next with the rest of his day. He had been thinking about it so hard he had not even realized the girl had finished with Draken. And with a fresh, clean towel in hand she had moved to kneel beside him. It wasn’t till the towel ran across his cheek that his hand had shot up to grip her wrist, startling her. 

“Whatcha doing girlie?” He questioned as Draken glared at him just daring Hanma to do anything else. But he didn’t plan to hurt her. She just surprised him. No one ever bothered to help him clean up after a fight and the feeling of the rough towel against his bruised skin shocked him. 

“Uhm cleaning you up,” she said slowly as she blinked her eyes at him. Her body had tensed up. Startled as well when he grabbed her wrist with lightning speed. For a few seconds the two glanced at each other before Hanma finally let go of her wrist that held the clean towel up to his face. 

“You don’t need to bother,” He said as his tongue clicked off the roof of his mouth. He attempted to turn his attention back to what remained of the cigarette in between the fingers of his right hand. 

“Just sit there and let me,” She quipped back at him. She was a little spit fire he had to admit. Surely he just scared her a little. And yet she was still adamant that she was going to tend to him just like she had for Draken. 

She had guts, talking back to him like that. And had she been a man he would have decked her. The urge to punch her still coursed through him. And maybe more importantly she was lucky that Draken was still present and watching over her. Hanma knew if he hit her in front of Draken an all out hell would break loose. And as pleasant as that sounded to Hanma he knew it would not end well for him. 

These fun little weekend fights of theirs would end, and he would piss off Draken. Doing that would turn Toman against him. Even though the thought of taking the entire gang on was fun, he knew if Mikey and Draken ganged up on him together then he could find himself very hurt, or even killed if he was not careful. 

So for now he would be nice, well as nice as he could be. So he bit his tongue, sat back and puffed at his cigarette. Her fingers were gentle and careful as she cleaned the blood from his face. The towel may have been abrasive but her touch was not. It was odd. Hanma was very accustomed to just leaving his wounds alone. He would clean them up when he got home and felt like it, whenever that would be. But here this small thing was kneeling beside him cleaning him up the best she could. First his face then his knuckles. Well the ones that were free and not busy as his fingers held his cigarette. 

Her hands were tiny compared to his when he let her take his left hand first to clean. His one hand was almost larger than both of hers put together. He had not realized what a tiny little thing she was. Yet as he sat there watching her fingers grip at his hand and dab disinfectant on his scarred up busted knuckles he was starting to realize the size difference between them. 

She also seemed very focused on her task at hand. She did not know him and yet here she was cleaning him up and tending to him. What an odd little kitten she was. She cleaned his knuckles and never once asked about the tattoos that were inked across his skin. Maybe she just assumed she knew why he got them? Though that would be stupid she did not know anything about him other than his love to fight. Or maybe she didn’t care? She saw tattoos all the time. Draken has his visible one on the side of his head. If he remembered correctly another Toman captain had the same tattoo. Though Hanma could not be bothered to remember who it was. And well he was sure others had tattoos as well. So maybe tattoos just did not bother her any more? 

The second she had finished cleaning him up Hanma left, with a simple see ya later and a lazy wave he was gone. Draken was quick to leave as well, claiming to have gang things to do. She knew that was his way of politely either trying to get rid of her or honestly having gang things to tend to. Which she honestly assumed it was the latter. With how Draken looked out for Mikey she imagines that Draken rarely spends so much time in the day without the short blonde. And so that was his way of rushing off to be with his leader. 

Leaving her to clean up her stuff, stuff everything into her backpack to take home and clean up properly. Which she did. As much as she wished Draken would stick around longer she knew he wouldn’t. It had only been a few weekends now of this but she knew that her time with him during these mornings were rare and short. Which was all the more reason she was so adamant about becoming a part of this weekend ritual these two boys seemed to have. 

The following weekends turned out like the first few. She would keep her backpack packed with supplies, the guys would beat the shit out of each other. Then they would sit back in the weeds of the barely cared for park and she would clean them up. She would offer them water to drink as she dressed whatever injuries they gave one another. Tell them to ice their faces once they have time. Hanma would puff on his post fight cigarette as he watched her always dress Drakens injuries first. Then she would turn and do Hanma next. He no longer tried to stop her. And instead chose to pretty much ignore her as she worked at cleaning blood from his face and hands. 

“Why do you always smoke after you fight?” She had asked him once. 

Oh the fun he had with that answer was so much fun to give. And the way she had reacted was perfect. 

“Nothin hits like a cigarette after a little rush of adrenaline. A good fight or a good fuck are always better with a few good drags afterwards,” he had said and watched as her fingers paused on their job. Her cheeks and nose dusted with a lovely blush. And he could just imagine she was replaying the words good fuck over in her mind. 

She was as innocent as she was stupid it seemed. Draken even let out a low chuckle at that which just seemed to make her blush more in embarrassment. She tucked her chin towards her chest and seemed to try and hide behind her long dark hair as she hastily cleaned his knuckles before moving to toss all her stuff into her backpack. That was the first time she had been the first to leave out of everyone. 

“Timid little thing isn’t she,” Hanma said, smirking triumphantly, feeling rather proud of himself that he had run her off. 

“Yeah. She doesn’t seem like it but Kokumori is typically very shy. She rarely talks up at school. I used to think she was some snobby rich kid when we were in middle school. But in reality she ain’t much different from anyone else. I learned once that her parents are never home. She lives in a pretty decent neighborhood. But for almost as long as I have known her she has lived alone. She seems to struggle with socializing with others, always has. She’s been sheltered in many ways,” Draken had started to ramble about her. Which surprised Hanma for a few reasons. First he didn’t think Draken and her were that close. Second, he never expected Draken to willingly share such personal and private information about someone else.

“Is that why you let her follow you around like a love sick fool?” Hanma had asked as he squished the burning butt of his cigarette into the ground beside him and ignored Drakens glare. 

“Who knows,” Draken grumbled before he was pushing himself to his feet and leaving Hanma to be the last to leave the park that time.

Next Chapter

[bluedemon1995]

KIDGE WINTER EVENT

Sorry had a sinus infection and was feeling out of it so please enjoy the past 2 prompts and hopefully I can get todays out too!

Day 2 12/19 Christmas tree/jacket

Keith woke up with a start! His hand automatically reached for his blade, muscles readying, when the giggles and whispers registered. Relaxing his muscles, he reorientated himself. He let himself listen and enjoy this moment.

His oldest son, Drew, could be heard ordering his siblings around. Well, after hearing a high-pitched “No,” trying might be a better word. Drew’s little voice firmly directed them to brush their teeth and grab their cold-weather items like gloves and hats. Then there was his daughter Abbey, who could be heard singing her class’ Christmas carol and completely ignoring her older brother. And finally, with no sounds from his youngest Finn, who at 5 translated into him probably watching TV on the couch with his blankie firmly held in his arms.

He felt Katie start to stir and murmur, “Well, so much for sleeping in; we might as well get up and pick out our tree.”

Keith kissed her forehead and replied, “Stay here; I’ll get them rounded up and ready. I know you didn’t finish your projections until early this morning. I’ll even feed the gremlins too!”

Katie sighed, “This…this is why I keep you around.” Chuckling, he pinched her side and slid out of bed.

As he corralled the kids, got them fed and dressed, put on their favorite Disney Holiday movie, Mickey’s Twice Upon a Christmas, stopped a fight, and found a lost glove, he finally returned to wake Katie. As she started her process of getting ready, Keith himself got ready, as well as getting a saw and tie-downs. While putting the stuff in the car, he got a message from one of his former Blades operatives: some pictures from their most recent mission. He quickly shot off a quick reply and called out if everyone was ready to leave.

On the way to the tree farm, the car was filled with yelling, laughter, and teasing. Luckily, there was no puking. It seems Finn has finally grown out of his car sickness, which was great. Plus, a little arguing from the peanut gallery. Katie was already on her phone looking up places to eat near their destination, and somehow, Drew managed to hook up his music playlist to the car! He glanced at Katie, jokingly saying, “You know, this kid is going to be the death of me, right? I can’t handle two geniuses.”

To which she manically grinned, replying, “What about 4?”

Once they arrived at their destination, they promptly got stuck in the mud in the parking lot, which the kids thought was excellent. Keith was more annoyed that they didn’t plan for this, but out he went to try and push while Katie took control of the wheel when suddenly he had all three children next to him…in the mud. Keith groaned; the car was going to be filthy!

He could hear Katie swearing, talking about how they should have kept the test flooring in the van because they could have put it in front of the tires. Keith yelled, “There’s no room in there for that and Drew’s hockey bag!”

Finally, some workers from the farm came out and helped push. As they walked the tree farm, debating on the pros and cons of each tree and watching his kids run down the aisles of trees laughing and pushing, he grabbed Katie’s mittened hand. Pulling her to a stop, he tugged her close and said, “Babe, thank you.”

Katie blinked, “No thanks needed, bud. Hell, this is even better than what I had dreamed up. Our fucking family kicks ass!” She quickly moved to her tip toes and kissed him. Groans and applause followed, and he couldn’t think of a better way to spend a day.

Day 3 12/20 Christmas gift

He was an idiot. He didn’t do things like this. She was going to hate it. Fuck!

He couldn’t even blame anyone else. He’d been walking around with the damn thing in his pocket for months. Waiting for the perfect time, waiting for the right moment.

Unfortunately, he had no clue what that meant. It’s not like his parents were even married. And he knew better than anyone there is no sign from above that was going to come down and say, do it now. But he usually went with his gut so that was the plan. Wait for it to feel right.

He knew he wasn’t like Shiro who planned everything down to what scent of candle he lit. He heard Katie’s parents' story, where Katie’s mom actually got tired of waiting for Mr. Holt to pop the question. She did the deed, which he couldn’t imagine Katie doing. Then there was Hunk who planned an actual event just so he could pop the question. There were fireworks that Katie was in charge of, so he knew this was a big deal.

But none of those felt like them. He knew he wasn’t adept at planning missions much less a proposal. He also knew that Katie would not want to be the center of attention at a gala or bar. But conversely, he also felt like she deserved to be. He hated when she tried to blend in the background when she was all he could see.

All of these previous events led up to the current plan that was created when the guys met up at the bar to discuss Christmas plans a few nights ago. The teasing naturally started when Lance announced in all seriousness that he needed to propose on NYE for him to win the pot. Keith got defensive. If it was easy, he’d have done it already. Shiro then started poking all while strategically plying him with drinks. As the night went on, he got more and more honest with his fears and what he wanted. His team as usual developed a plan.

Which is why he was sitting through a Holt Christmas dinner sweating and feeling scared. Katie kept looking at him with concern and her parents kept glancing at hi like he was hung over. Great impression. Matt however, looked like he was about to start video recording at any time. Shit.

If you asked Keith later, he would not be able to recall one thing said at dinner. He couldn’t tell you what he wore, what he ate or even if he ate. In fact, the actual proposal was also a blur but luckily Matt was on pointe and recorded the whole proposal. Which he gleefully played every damn Christmas.

But Katie would say it was the best Christmas present until the birth of her son a few years ago. And that’s all that matters to Keith.

[rootvegetableboy]

cm dev log #2 - december 2023

woah, 2024 already? how the time flies! december is a really busy time and i honestly felt like i didn’t get that much progress on the game done this month, but now looking over all my notes, i’m feeling really good about the direction i’m heading in.

astute readers will recall that in november i built a dialogue system. in december, i took this a step further, making an in-game menu available for accessing your stuff/status/saves/etc! creating an inventory also meant creating my very first items, which, well…

you can only carry 8 items. here, alda chose to make every single one beef jerky.

i had to fix a lot of infinite beef jerky glitches during this stage. at one point i had a really weird issue where you could consume an item but only if it was the most recent item picked up… any item consumed in the middle of the list would crash the game…

eventually it all worked out, though. there’s even special text if you try to cram too many things into your pockets:

yeah there’s too much beef jerky in here. sorry

the other “big” thing i did this month was start etching out the barest beginnings of a combat system!! (i say “big” because let’s be real it is game dev. it is all big. i also got a bunch of the script/story done this month and that is HUGE, even if i cant show it off as easily)

i started with some light testing of bullet properties and physics, getting used to handling objects in this way, and then followed that with establishing how player movement and direction works in combat. in retrospect i probably should’ve flipped the order of these, but i stopped working on the bullets pretty quickly when i realized where my attention was needed, and everything is working out ok so far!

the bouncing bullets get stuck on the wall a lot more than you’d think…

aiming with the cursor! this would probably feel a lot more natural with joysticks.

so i haven’t actually combined the bullets + aiming into actual shooting mechanics yet. this is a big goal for january, i’m trying to whip up some combat prototypes asap so i can make sure the game is Engaging and Juicy and Fun 2 Play.

i really like how the aiming looks and feels with a mouse, but there is some amount of awkwardness when moving from a non-combat area (where WASD dictates your direction) into a combat area (where you suddenly have your direction dictated by your cursor coordinates). maybe it’s because i use a trackpad but i am always thrown off when moving from non-combat to combat… interestingly enough, combat to non-combat doesn't stand out so much. as always the list of things to continue testing is ever-growing!

this next month i really want to start focusing in on the combat. previously i have been tackling systems that scared me less—something about coding combat interactions is just insanely intimidating to me lmao. i’m feeling a lot more confident now that i have a dialogue and an inventory system under my belt, so i want to tackle this next challenge asap. i don’t want to get too deep into the art or sound until i’m certain i have a good mechanical foundation in place!

maybe next month i’ll have some extremely rough playtests…? but who knows!

see you in february! <3

[eatdearth]

A Butter Tomorrow

Timing: Recent Location: The Bread Cemetery, Downtown Feat: @eatdearth & @thesilentmedium Warnings: N/A Summary: Jonas, a patient pastry person, meets Jasper, a rambling rock (p)rofessor (close enough). No one was bready for this wholesome encounter.

Jasper liked his bread. Not as much as he used to, but he has continued to frequent the Bread Cemetery even after he was over his “local businesses only” phase, so that has to account for something, right? There was a time in Jasper’s life where he would only eat food from the aforementioned “local businesses,” places that were considered cornerstones of the town, places like the Bread Cemetery or the Best Exotic Herbal Tea Shop or even the Driftwood Diner. 

There’s some debate over that last one, but Jasper knew there was no debating the bear claws at the Cemetery. The Bread Cemetery, not an actual cemetery. Come to think of it, Jasper still has no idea why the place was called The Bread Cemetery. He should probably ask. Maybe after he gets his bear claws. If he remembers anything after munching on those delicious bear claws.

“Hey, man, I’ll have a bear claw, por flavor,” Jasper muttered out loud when it was his turn to make his order before noticing the sign on the counter that explained one of the workers was deaf. Was this the deaf guy? Jasper has been buying bread at the Cemetery for a long time but still hasn’t figured out which guy was the deaf guy. Or maybe he just keeps forgetting. “Oh, uhh, that one,” he pointed at the bear claws, still speaking, even though he believed the deaf guy might not have heard him. “Can. I. Have. That?” 

Jasper might be much better at this if he had a deaf friend. Or any friends for that matter.

The Bread Cemetery was always busy in the morning but today seemed especially so, Jonas hadn’t even gotten a chance to get into a better change of clothes before the breakfast rush came in. His apron was tied around his waist and his black tank that normally was kept under a cardigan was now showing off more than he was usually comfortable with. He still had flour on his cheek from an unfortunate button press and his hair was slightly out of place, just enough to bother him. Normally Andy or Lil would be here to handle the customers but Andy was having her day off and Lil was out following leads, so Jonas was stuck being uncomfortable as he tried to get the customers out quickly.

The young man was a little frazzled and thankful the number of patrons seemed to be dying down when the last one stepped forward. Jonas recognized the man’s face, though he had never gotten his name. He smiled, always happy to see a regular returning. “Good morning.” He couldn’t help the little snort that came out when the man tried to talk to him. 

“I um can read your lips sir, you can talk normally.” Jonas pulled the bear claw out and slipped it into a paper bag, rolling it closed and keeping it shut with a little tombstone sticker. “That will be four dollars please.” He set the pastry on the counter and couldn’t help stretching while he waited on the stranger to get out his card. “You uh come here a lot and I appreciate it. Do you work nearby?” 

‘Oh’ and ‘fuck’ were the first two words that came to Jasper’s mind when the baker revealed a fact obvious to everyone but the geology professor. For all his accomplishments in academia, the last living member of the Langston family in town was not as gifted in social settings. He gave the other guy an apologetic smile as he stumbled to take his wallet out of his pocket. Jasper almost dropped the damned thing but managed to keep it in his clumsy hands at the last minute. “Don’t worry! I got it!”

As soon as those words left his lips, Jasper realized no one was probably worrying. It was just a wallet. If it fell to the floor, he could have just picked it up. No one was getting injured by a wallet dropping to the floor. At least not in their current situation, where they were inside a bakery getting bread for breakfast. 

Embarrassed by no one else but himself, Jasper dropped his head, focusing on taking out those four dollars with keen attention, not wanting any more clumsy mistakes. The more attention he’d draw to himself, he’d learn over the years, thanks to his prankster students, the more he’d end up looking like a fool. 

Fortunately for Jasper, he managed to pay the correct amount on his first try. “Thanks,” he muttered unnecessarily as he surrendered the bills to take the pastry. “Oh, I, uhm, I’m a professor at the university. I’m a huge fan! Of your bread, I mean. Old habits die hard… Favorite bakery! Kudos to the chef!” After throwing random words at the guy, he ended up with an awkward chuckle. What the hell was all that? Jasper didn’t even know. 

Jonas reached out to catch the wallet but stopped when the other man got it himself. The stranger in front of him seemed to be very nervous, which wasn’t strange. Some people were just like that when outside of the home and Jonas did his best to look welcoming for the other man to try and make him feel less flustered. He gently took the bills from the other and quickly counted the change, putting it on the counter for the man to pick up. He figured it would be easier than trying to fumble with his wallet and the pastry as well as the change. 

“A university professor? What do you teach?” Maybe talking about his profession would help him feel less awkward. Jonas always found he could go on talking about baking for hours if given the chance. Then again maybe his love for the activity was different. Teaching sounded like it was probably more stressful than just being in the back baking all day. If that was the only part of this job he had to worry about, Jonas would be stress free, though keeping the books in check was a little hard. He was already looking for accountants to go over the documents. 

Having never planned to take over the family business, suddenly managing two was draining. It didn’t help that his brain was one to over think. Jonas was wanting to be prepared for any thing that might go wrong while waiting for his sister to find their parents, but that only led to more stress as he was finding out just how many ways a business could fail. Still trying was better than just letting it fail on its own. He couldn’t let June or Andy down and while the house may have been neglected, the bakery was still in tip top shape showing just how much his mother really adored it.

Jasper perked up when the angelic cashier asked him about his job. If there was one thing Jasper loved talking about, it was his job. His field, specifically. Something about stones and rocks just excited him. He wasn’t even sure himself why that was the case. Maybe because he found out he had an affinity for magic relating to the stones and the rocks? Maybe because of the mines? Yeah, probably not the mines. 

“Oh, I teach geology,” Jasper started meekly but immediately became more confident. “Geoscience, earth science, it’s all the same study of this amazing planet we’re living in now, how it was formed, its composition, its structure, the myriad of processes acting on it.” You’d think that was the perfect opportunity to stop, but nope. He continued, “Did you know that it’s the primary, and I have to emphasize, primary EARTH, as in this planet, science? We also study the history of the planet Earth over the course of its billions of years of a lifetime.” He heaved a sigh to end his monologue, arms on his hips, impressed and in love with geology. 

In his head, Jasper looked cool. But to the others waiting in line, to the random bread enthusiasts who had overheard him gawk about rocks, he probably looked like a complete idiot. When he was in high school, and he talked about rocks like that, he usually had his entire spiel ended by another kid laughing at him. Sometimes they’d throw a rock at him. Well, a stone, to be more precise, but there was that one time another kid threw an actual rock at him. As big as his fist. He got sent to the nurse that day, and eventually, home. When his uncle heard about it, he was pissed. Come to think about it, whatever happened to that rock-throwing kid? He’s never heard of him since then.

“Geoscience?” That was a hard word to read off the lips but Jonas was happy the other man seemed to perk up. Asking him about his job was apparently the right way to go as the man rambled about geology. He seemed proud of it, which only earned a genuine smile from Jonas. The smaller man always loved when people got excited over their passions, they way it seemed to make their face light up was always a joy to witness. 

“That is very neat.” Jonas meant it. He may not know much on the subject but it did seem like something interesting to dive into if the other man’s reactions were anything to go by. “How long have you um been teaching?” He motioned for Jasper to scoot to the side so the other could keep talking, making sure he took his change while making room for the next customer. He did his best to keep his attention going between the two, it was a little hard when he needed to use his eyes to see what they were saying. Sometimes being deaf came with drawbacks, but he had been like this since he was born so he was used to navigating two people talking to him at once. 

Jasper grinned sheepishly when he realized Jonas had said good things about his rambling. Well, his field at least. Usually people just stared at him, and occasionally walked away, whenever he finished his excited spiel about rocks and stones. No one gets it. No one gets him. His field and his brain was too big for everyone else to appreciate. That was his curse. His blessing. Or at least that’s what he told him whenever he starts feeling super low. “It is! So very neat!”

“Oh, not that long ago,” Jasper tried to downplay the amount of time he spent in the academe, learning everything he could, maximizing his potential and worth, to be able to get to where he was right then and there. He felt it would reveal how sad and empty and lonely his social life was, not to mention how despite all that time dedicated to his field of study, he was still barely at the level he wanted to be, the level of his mentors. 

“You guys ever, uhh, get other customers from the University?” It was a pretty dumb question, all things considered, but Jasper was legit curious if Doctor Dolan, err Shiv visited this place. Or even Nancy. 

“I am not sure. Not many people stop to chat with me when they order. I do not blame them, it can be awkward to talk to someone who is deaf for the first time.” Jonas was used to people not wanting to deal with talking to him. It could be a hassle if one didn’t know sign language and had to be constantly reminded to look directly at him while talking. Plus lip reading wasn’t perfect, there was always the chance he misunderstood what the other was trying to say. All this really did make him appreciate those who bothered to try though. He wouldn’t have such lovely friends if no one took the chance to talk to him. 

“It is impressive though that you um have made a job for yourself teaching Geoscience.” Jonas was impressed by anyone with the patience to stand in front of a crowd of people answering questions all day. The baker himself was happy to answer questions but on a one to one basis. “I am glad you seem to enjoy it.” There was nothing better than a job you loved doing. Jonas learned that when he was finally away from Jacob and could enjoy how he worked. It took a long time for him to come around to the idea that his method was worthwhile. 

Jacob had never been impressed with Jonas for doing things differently. His father had always been happy to remind him that it was strange and that he was a failure precisely because he couldn’t follow along with the normal procedures. But the boy couldn’t help it when his words came out sounding off. He had no idea what he sounded like to begin with and he knew that some of the things he said were still unintelligible despite his best effort to make them so. 

“You’re deaf?” Jasper blurted out the words even before his brain could tell him not to, completely unaware that the guy he had been speaking to was deaf. Why would he be aware? Jasper pretty much spent most of the conversation talking about himself, his field of study. One time, a girl at a bar tried to make small talk with him, only for the geology professor to go into a monologue about the earth’s core that ended with Jasper only noticing the same girl had gone and went after he was done. The girl had left after his fourth sentence. He had managed to talk himself into complete obliviousness for twenty or so sentences. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— It’s just that— I didn’t find it awkward speaking with you.” Nice save. Decent save?

“Yeah, uhm,” Jasper had only then realized he was maybe holding up a line and the people behind him were maybe not enjoying his long-ass monologue as much as he had thought. To be fair, he forgot they were there, but the scowls on their faces pretty much confirmed his theory. Maybe it was time to go? He was going to keep coming back anyway. Humiliating encounter or not, the bread at this place was pretty freaking good. “Feel free to drop by whenever,” he fumbled for something decent to say as he offered the other guy a meek smile, almost apologetically, before moving out of the line to avoid getting attacked. He was mid-escape when he remembered he hadn’t even given the guy his name. “I’m Jasper, by the way. Jasper Langston.”

“Oh um I am sorry I thought you knew because of how you were speaking when you first came in. But I am glad you did not find our conversation awkward.” Jonas was a little amused by the other man and how quickly he seemed to forget anything not related to his line of work. Then again maybe Jonas had misinterpreted the man’s actions from when he came in.  He wasn’t sure why someone would talk like that then unless they thought he was hard of hearing. Did the man forget about it because of how Jonas was able to keep up with the conversation? It wouldn’t be the first time someone didn’t realize because of that. 

Jonas watched as the man shuffled about doing his best not to laugh as he seemed to finally realize where he was again. “I hope you enjoy your Bear Claw, if I am ever at the university I will make sure to stop by and u say hi.” He offered a little wave, pausing when the other man turned to offer his name, “It has been a joy to meet you Jasper, I am Jonas.” Despite the taller man’s awkwardness it really had been entertaining to meet him and have him ramble off about his job. 

[much-obliged-timothy]

Whumptober #6

Detroit: Become Human - #6 - Screams from across the hall

*

“Not another word about it,” Hank said as they entered the run-down apartment building.

“But Hank, you were clearly going 17 miles over the speed limit,” Connor said. “We were in no rush to get here, so you could’ve-”

“What’re you gonna do, arrest me?” Hank laughed a little at his own joke. When Connor didn’t join in, Hank rolled his eyes. “Look, we got a tip our guy’s squatting in one of those rooms. Can’t have him getting away, can we?”

“No, but if we got in an accident, I am replaceable. You…You are not,” Connor said, his voice getting quieter. 

Hank sobered up at his tone and clapped Connor on the shoulder, forcing the android to meet his eyes. “You’re not replaceable, Connor.”

“But-”

“You’re not. That’s the one thing I will absolutely not let you argue with me about. Now shut up and let’s go get our guy. And have a little more faith in my driving, will you?” He pulled his hand away and headed for the stairs.

“I would, if you obeyed the speed limit,” Connor said, climbing the stairs behind him.

Hank rolled his eyes. He couldn’t let himself acknowledge how Connor’s concern made him feel, not now on the job. He knew once they reached the second floor, Connor would let it drop for the sake of focusing on the task at hand, so Hank sped his steps. 

Sure enough, as soon as they were on the second floor, Connor didn’t mention it again. Hank signaled for Connor to follow, and he did so obediently.

“Alright,” Hank said in a low voice as they moved down the hall. “He’s squatting in one of these two rooms, but the owner wasn’t sure which. I’ll check the right, you check the left. Can’t have him hearing us and getting armed if we pick the wrong door.” He pointed a threatening finger in Connor’s face. “But if he’s armed, you get out of there and let me handle it. Got it?”

“Yes, Hank,” Connor said, and Hank resigned himself to the fact that Connor absolutely would not obey that order. 

They took their places at the doors, Hank aiming his gun. Connor readied himself to enter, looking over to nod at Hank.

Hank mouthed a countdown before they simultaneously kicked in the doors. Hank stormed into the room, clearing it rapidly. There was a closet on the far side and he approached it cautiously, moving his body to the side as he reached for the door handle. Only real place left for the bastard to hi-

“HANK! HANK!”

The screams of his name came from the room across the hall - the room Connor was in.

Hank was already running when he heard the sickening sound of something hitting a body. He brought his gun up as he crossed the hall and entered the other room.

He knew the face from the report they’d been studying. He saw the man raise a heavy object again, positioned over the prone body of Connor.

Hank was moving as he fired, watching the lifeless body crash against the wall and fall still. Hank took just enough time to feel for a pulse that wasn’t there to ensure there’d be no more surprises before he spun to Connor.

“Connor! Here, son, here.” He got his hands under Connor and pulled the android into his lap.

Connor’s knees bent at odd angles, probably the first things their target had aimed for. Connor’s chest was caved in, horror spiking through Hank as he ran gentle fingers along the damage. 

“We’ll get you fixed up,” Hank said, holding Connor a little closer. “Hang in there, Connor. I’ll get help. I’ll-“

Connor’s LED ring was flashing red as he struggled to focus. Hank ran a soothing hand along Connor’s hair.

“He didn’t…g-get a-away,” Connor managed.

“No. No, you made sure of that. I’m going to tell myself you would’ve listened to me if he hadn’t fucked up your knees,” Hank said. “It was a good job. You did a good job, Connor.”

Connor smiled at that. The lifelike quality of his eyes faded, his LED display blinking once more before stopping.

“No. No! Connor? Connor, answer me!” Hank demanded, knowing it was pointless. “Connor. Connor!”

He’d yelled for Hank even as he was being beaten to death just to make sure he completed the mission. Others would think it was out of a sense of duty, but Hank knew it was more. Hank knew the usually judgmental looks he received would turn to ones of silent praise as he returned, mission complete and partner…partner…

He was gone. Jesus, Connor was gone.

“Connor.” Hank shook him once more, then tipped his head forward until it met Connor’s. “You- You- Fuck!”

Why? Wasn’t it bad enough he had to watch Cole’s life slip between his helpless fingers? 

Not again. He couldn’t take this loss again. Cole, young and innocent. Connor, new to freedom and so damn loyal to Hank. Both had deserved so much. Both had been stolen away so cruelly.

Hank knew he should call this in. But for now, he allowed himself to sit in a heavy silence, holding Connor to himself and trying to drag himself into some semblance of strength.

Connor would’ve wanted him to go on. He could honor that for him, at least.

Agonizing as it would be without his partner there to nag him, to make him feel strong and alive again. He would live and press on in Connor’s memory.

But that was a step to take later. For now, he let his world collapse around him as he gripped the lifeless body in his arms tighter.