#wash is trying not to cry while donut is confused as to why he seems familiar

[trashinyourpockets]

Awkward.

[aphrodite-would-be-proud]

I dont know if your accepting requests right now, but I love your kiddo headcannons. Could you do the Kiddo's reacting to Reiner asking you to marry him? I just really want to know who's going to get excited for the wedding, if any of the kids are going to be upset...your headcannons are just the best!!

Hey! Yes my requests are open, it's written in my bio tho i get it might be confusing. Imma make sure to also write it on the navigation post.

And by the name of persephone this the cutest most wholesome kiddo scenario! How did i not think of that? Just what realm of heaven are you living on Anon? Whatever it is thank you for blessing us with this thought💛

You're with Reiner, he wants to propose but his cousins overhear him.

{ Reiner x reader | tw:marriage tw:proposing tw:parental-neglect tw:heavy-angst | cartoony?, fluff, angst with comfort | modern }

{ The Lanterns, circa 1910 by Charles Courtney Curran 1861-1942 }

"And no opening the door to anyone no matter how sorry you feel for them, okay?" Colt said while adjusting the tie around his neck, making sure it's even as he takes one final look at himself in the mirror before putting on his coat.

"Okay" Falco replied, watching as his brother was getting frustrated with the too many buttons on his coat. "Do you need help?"

Nodding his head, Colt let Falco do his buttons while he reached for the cup of coffee he left on the table, quickly finishing it all. "And make sure to get to bed on time, no staying up reading comic books, you have school tomorrow."

"Don't worry I won't" Falco looked in concern at the empty coffee cup, "isn't this your third one today? I don't think you should be drinking this much..."

"You worry too much Falco, just take care of yourself okay?" Colt rubbed his brother's hair, before patting his head. "I'll text you to check on how you're doing so make sure to charge your phone."

And just like that, Colt wrapped a scarf around his neck, grabbed his keys, and left through the door. Leaving Falco standing there at the entrance, alone in the house.

Looking around the quiet room, Falco picked up the empty cup before washing it in the sink. Just as he was putting it away, the door bell rang.

'Did he forget something?' He thought, wondering if it's his the keys again. But looking at the table, he could see nothing was there.

Wait...Colt did take his keys before leaving, why would he be ringing the doorbell.

The ringing got more frequent, followed by aggressive knocking. Falco took a step back into the kitchen, thinking if he could dash upstairs to get his phone in time.

But he didn't want to trouble his brother...Think Falco think! What would captain america do in this scenario? But Reiner always told him he should think for himself...

And so he grabbed a knife, slowly inching towards the door but then he heard it, that fimilar sound.

"Falco? You in there? It's freezing open the door!"

"Gabi?!" Dropping the knife, Falco rushed to the door. Quickly unlocking it as a very cold looking Gabi stepped inside.

"What took you so long? I can't feel my fingers!" Rubbing her hands together to attempt to warm them up, Gabi glared at Falco.

"Sorry I thought you were a-" he looked away at the knife "uh..anyway let me get you a blanket" before he could rush up the stairs, Gabi pulled him back.

"No there's no time! We have to leave now." Holding his hand, Gabi dragged a very confused Falco out the door and they began making their way to the next destination.

-

Soon enough, the pair found themselves standing outside Udo's house, directly under his window.

"You still haven't told me why we're here." Falco watched as Gabi was looking for something on the ground, he stiffened when she smiled after picking up a small rock.

"I will tell you once Udo and Zofia are here, it's very important." She handed him the rock. "Now let's focus on getting Udo here, make sure to aim for his window because his mom is a really light sleeper."

"Wait if that's the case then why didn't we go to Zofia's house first? She lives right opposite of mine!" Falco whisper-shouted.

"Because! Neither of us can deal with a sleeping Zofia and you know that, only Udo knows how to wake her up." Gabi explained, crossing her arms while getting impatient. "So hurry up and throw the rock!"

Flaco looked at Udo's window, then at the rock. He looked at Gabi one last time before closing his eyes and throwing it, it made a sound as it hit the window....nothing happened

"Why am I the one throwing the rocks?" He looked anxiously at Udo's dark window, moving his weight from one leg to the other.

"I'm stronger. If i throw it, I'll break the window." Gabi was looking for another rock, having found one slightly bigger than the last. "Here try this one"

-

Having reunited again, the four of them were walking down the street to Reiner's house late at night. Gabi leading the group, Falco following her reluctantly, Udo keeping a still sleepy Zofia from walking into a wall while in her pajamas.

"This better be good Gabi, otherwise you can forget about copying my math homework for a month." The thought of just turning around and going back home to bed was still in the back of Zofia's mind.

Having almost reached Reiner's house, the four of them could see multiple cars parked outside of it, some of them they recognise.

"See! I told you all it'd be worth it. They're having a secret party without us! I heard Reiner talking about it on the phone with Zeke this morning when I was pretending to be asleep so I don't have to walk home." Gabi said as they sneaked to the side of the house.

"That's mister Zeke's car, miss Annie's and...even Porco's too.." Udo said as they climbed the house fence.

"They invited Porco but not us?" With that information, Zofia was fully awake.

"That's exactly what I've been telling you guys about! Here look!" Standing on her toes, Gabi looked through the window, between the curtains. Three heads joining her soon.

Looking inside, they could see the living room they were so fimilar with, looking really different. For once it wasn't a mess of pillows and candy wrappers! It was actually clean with various candles adding to the atmosphere.

Zeke and Pieck could be seen siting next to each other on the couch, drinking some wine while Colt is in the arm chair next to them with Porco pushing a drink in his hands.

Annie and Bertolt are leaning against the wall, she's holding a plate of donuts while he's talking about something.

Finally, you and Reiner are sitting on the couch opposite to Zeke and Pieck. His hand is around your shoulder and he keeps taking glances behind him at bertolt, while Zeke stares at him from the front.

If you focus, you can hear the muffled sound of music playing in the background.

The four kids watched as Reiner whispered something in your ear, before you noded, got up and headed towards the kitchen. The second you left, all of them crowded at the couch next to Reiner, Talking in hushed tones.

"What...are they doing?" Udo watched as Reiner took out a small red box from his pocket, hands shaking while the people around him leaned in to see what's inside as he opened it.

Quiet gasps and awws followed after as the ring inside came into view, glittering in the dark by the candlelight. Although that only seemed to fluster Reiner even more.

The four of them looked at each other with wide eyes, then back at the ring as Reiner reached out to hold it delicately in his hand for a few seconds as if he's offering it up to the air in front of him, the room got quiet, everyone holding their breaths.

"Oh " Falco said, "i...think i know what's going on." Both Udo and Zofia noded.

"What?" Gabi knitted her eyebrows, tilting her head, "what's going on?"

Before any of them could answer, Zofia told them to keep quiet when she noticed you walking back in the room, the ring back in the box inside Reiner's pocket.

Everyone was now standing, smiles on their faces, even Annie showing one of her rare ones. You were holding a new plate of donuts when you noticed them, with Reiner in the middle, nervous eyes staring right at yours.

Stepping towards you, Annie took the plate before going back to her spot. A few chuckles from Zeke, Bertolt and Pieck followed while Reiner shock his head.

Still outside, the kids saw Reiner start talking about something. Whatever it is, it must have been emotional because everyone in the room was listening with anticipation.

"I can't hear anything" unlocking the window, Gabi opened it just slighly. The muffled sound of music becoming clear as Reiner was finishing his speech.

"And you'd make me the happiest man in the world" he got on one knee, hand taking something out of his pocket. "If we could spend the rest of our lives together and I'll cherish every single moment you're by my side."

He opened the red box, holding the ring in front of you, eyes pleading. "Will you please marry me?"

The second you said yes, Reiner pulled you in the tightest most loving hug in your life, muttering "thank you"s under his breath. You could taste saltiness of his tears when he kissed your lips, still not letting go.

"He's crying" Udo said, feeling his own glasses getting a bit blurred.

"They're kissing." Falco's face was as red as a tomato, covering his blushing face with his hand but looking through his fingers.

"Annie finished all the donuts" was Zofia's comment with a pout.

Gabi's hold on the window got tighter, her lips quivering. "We have to stop them. They can't get married!" And like that, she slammed the window open before climbing inside.

"Gabi! Wait!" Falco tried grabbing her sleeve but was too slow, so he climbed after her into the room.

As expected from two children suddenly breaking in the room through the window, everyone's eyes were on them with surprised expressions.

Looking straight at Reiner, Gabi pulled you away from him before snatching the ring box from his hand. "NO! no one is marrying anyone" with all her might, she threw the box to Falco before telling him to run away.

Having been dragged into the middle of this, Falco looked at Colt's concerned expression, Reiner's confused face and Pieck's amused one. Stepping near Colt, he was about to give him the ring when he saw Gabi's face, making his stop midway.

"Run Falco! Just go!" She yelled, tears streaming down her face, legs shaking. "They can't leave us! Not like our parents did..."

Falco felt his chest tightening, recalling how empty the house feels with just him and Colt being away for work most of the time. How cold it is, unlike the warmth he feels whenever they stay over at your house.

He began tearing up too, holding the box so tightly to his chest.

It was Reiner who made the first move, while everyone was stunned looking at the two crying children. Pulling the both of them to his chest as they sobbed, he wrapped his arm safely around them. He looked at you and you followed in his steps.

-

After some time and explaining, Colt was comforting Falco while on the couch with Pieck doing the same on his other side. You had Zofia on your lap while she ate some Donuts you stashed away from Annie. Gabi was still clutching to Reiner with Udo on his other side doing the same.

Gabi would take a bite out of a donut, cry a bit then take another bite. Sometimes glancing at the red box on the table.

With time, reassuring words and Zeke making the kids laugh, things slowly got better. Reiner and you completely reassured them that you're never leaving, you love them more than anything in this world. That getting marriage is going to get you even more closer together than anything.

Hearing those words calmed Gabi down, each of them made you make a pinky promise to not replace them ever, same thing to Reiner.

That's when Bertolt brought up the fact you still haven't worn the ring, and it might make them feel better if they were the one to place it on your hand. And that seemed to grab their attention as they began arguing between themselves which one of them should do the honour.

{ The Lanterns, circa 1910 by Charles Courtney Curran 1861-1942 }

Headcanons

Strap in because boi are we in for a ride. These kids went through a lot even in a modern non-war world

They all have an altered negative view on marriage, especially Gabi and Falco.

Both of Falco's parents are deceased, he lives alone with Colt who's trying his hardest to work and take care of both of them, of course Zeke and Pieck help a lot too and try to be his stand in parents.

He knows about love and how good it is, he just thinks marriage would mean you and Reiner might also go away.

Gabi's parents are alive and well, they're just rarely in her life. She's an alone child with no siblings, so far Reiner has been her only relative that she counts as family.

Her parents often leave her at her aunt's house whenever they go on a trip away, or as she started getting older, alone in the house. It gave her a lot of freedom but also a misguided and neglectful life.

Reiner has been trying to fill both roles of her parents for her, and when you came along it was like a dream coming true, she suddenly has someone who truly cares for her being and loves her unconditionally.

So when she heard you were getting married, something in her snapped and fears about you both leaving her too just like her parents clouded her mind.

Udo and Zofia both have their moms only, they bond over it. In Udo's case it was after his father passed away in an accident that his mother became really overprotective and Borderline overbearing.

She's worried about everything, he feels like it's his fault somehow and can't help but copy her anxiety and paranoia.

When he heard about you getting married, he felt a sting of pain and guilt, like he's getting in the way and it never was his real family to begin with.

Zofia's mom is another case, her dad left them when she was younger without a word. Her mother lost trust in anyone after that and was emotionally unavailable.

She saw how hurt her mother was over her dad, she wanted to be strong for her mom and never have to depend on anyone.

So when she heard you were getting married, a sense of dread filled her at realising one of you will hurt the other somehow and she will have to be strong on her own again.

The four of them looked up to you both, were loved and cherished by you both like they've longed for so long.

They fear losing you, they fear losing the warmth, love and care you showed them.

So take it slow with them please, they've been hurt a lot. They don't mean to be ungrateful or rude they're just kids who are terrfied.

Be paitent and slowly introduce them to marriage in a new light, let them grief over their own parents in a healthy way while comforting them. Make them feel included in the planning and wedding and everything and I promise you they'll be fighting for the flower girl spot at the wedding if you just take it slow and gentle.

Yes even Falco and Udo want to be the flower girl.

[tomdiddlyumptious]

T.H| Thottery

Summary: your doing pottery

Warnings: i guess sexual tension? AND YOUR A WITCHHH- AND A PLANT MOMMY- AND SOULMATES

A/n: its all i could think of when i saw tom in that tank top- and

It was another day in the shop, silence filling the room as you walked around to see the stuff you and tom made, the small store cozy, mostly green and beige everywhere to get a warm mood going.

The room smelled like roses, an incense in your hand as you took your time, slightly bobbing your head to nirvana in the background.

The bell rung letting you know someone was here, you poked your head from the shelves and looked at the door, seeing tom struggle with donuts in his dominant hand while the coffee stood in the other.

“Youre late!” You smiled and he groaned, thanking you when you made your way over to grab the donuts. “Im not late- your just early” he said, watching as you took a donut out and bit into it.

You and tom shared the shop, yes he had dreams of going to be a actor but he wasnt gonna ditch you. Youve both been best friends since he accidentally tripped you and made you cry in 5th grade, which he begged to do your homework as an apology. But there was always a tension when you both grew up, he sent you letters, well check up letters, if you need help on your homework letters, sometimes a hershy bar glued to it.

You told him your okay all the time and to stop wasting time on you, telling him to go feed his dog or clean his room because you knew he always forgot. You sent letters back too, you both didnt call each other because you liked the old ways and he admires that, he liked that you rode on your skateboard just to see him and ask him hows hes doing, he just felt like you are heaven sent.

“Righttt, well i got some crystals” you smiled at him, setting the donuts on the small white table before grabbing the box of crystals. “Y/n you know i dont like that witch stuff!” He glared at you and placed the coffee down next to the donuts.

“But tommy!” You smacked your lips, bending your knees repeatedly like a child. “They’re so beautiful and they mean something! I even got candles and cardsssss!”

He gave you a blank stare, before looking away “fine” “thank youuuu!” You walked over and he sat in his stool infront of the turntable, you made your way over and set the box in his lap, getting on your knees and opening the box.

“Swear that you wont curse me or this has no bad juju” “i just have to clean them first-“ “Y/N!” He groaned “whatttt!” You poked his leg, “stop being mean to me!”

“Im not being mean to you!” He looked down at you, you let out a hmph and got up, snatching the box before taking it into the backroom where your shared stuff went.

“Im sorry y/n!” He said, looking in the direction of the back room but sighed when he didn’t get an answer, instead of saying something again he got up to go back there, seemed like you went to the bathroom because you disappeared. He grabbed a bucket and filled it with water, then he grabbed a thing of clay that was wrapped in saran wrap to keep it fresh and went back to his turn table.

He set the stuff down, putting his foot on to buttom and watching the small circle turn before lifting his white shirt, revealing his abs right before his black tank top came down.

He heard the box of donuts opening which left a smile on his face, quietly walking over and sneaking behind the shelf before throwint his shirt at you, leaving a groan before you looked back at him, shooting him a glare.

“Can you hold that for me?” “You couldve kept it in the back smarty pants” “i guess i didnt want to this time” he shrugged with a smrik, walking off “your shirt stinks!” You lied, making him laugh and shake his head before sitting down and getting to work.

You looked through google trying to find more research about the crystals before tom called you for help. “Y/nnnnn!” “Yes thomas?” You asked, still looking at your phone.

“I need your helppp!” He said, looking down at the awkward clay bowl, a few lumps here and there in it. “Coming!” You stood and made your way over, wheb you peeked your head out you saw him trying to fix it.

His hair fluffy so his curles hanged over his head, his fingers painted with clay as he gently rubbed the bowl trying to flatten it out.

“What happened?” You asked and he sighed, shrugging “it just isnt working” “it’s probably like that because you didnt put on your lucky apron” you chuckled, grabbbing the both yours and his aprons next to the large green plant.

A loud groan left his lips as his shoulders slumped and rested his eblow on his knee, setting his cheek on his knuckles as he looked at you walking over. “Dont bring any bad spirits in here tom”

“Hey! Im not trying to!” He playfully rolled his eyes, you handed him his apron, small spidermans on it while yours had my little ponys.

“Alrightttt” you muttered, telling him to move his hand, when he did you sat on the leg nearest to you and he instantly wrapped his hand around your waist, watching as you dipped your hands in the water. “Its your turn to wash the aprons” you muttered, he let out a hum and a small laugh before you stepped on the button, letting the water drip from your hands and onto the clay.

“Can you make a heart in the middle?” He whispered, rubbing your side as he watched your hands work. “Whos it for?” You laughed and he shrugged “you” “me?” Your eyebrows furrowed and he squeezed your waist tight “yeah, why not?”

“Uh- i dont know?” You shrugged a bit, stuttering. Trying your hardest to focus but you messed up, a sigh leaving both of your lips as you had to restart.

You put the clay back in a glob, putting your hands around making it tall, a cough left toms lips as he looked away, while you tried your hardest not to laugh. “Y/n fix it” he asked. “I dont know...i kinda like it like this” you said, placing a hand on his knee.

“It looks like a penis” and with that you laughed “no seriously fix itttt!” “Okay okay, only if you let me do a reading on you”

“Y/n i dont like witchery” “but you like harry potter?” “I-its different” “fineee, i only wanted to know what your love life is looking like” you muttered and toms ears perked up. “You can find that out?” “Yeah, but you dont want to soooo-“

“Okay okay! Just fix please!” He lifted the knee that you were sitting on and rubbed your side letting you know he was ready. You chuckled and got to work.

About 5 minutes later you asked for toms hands, he gave them to you willingly and you sat all the way in his lap, tugging his hands forward his head was right in your neck, heavy breathing on your neck as you could help but get a little goosebumps on your neck.

You rocked his hands back and forth “mhm, just like that” you muttered “yeah like this?” He teased, “no your fucking up”. “Fuck off” you both laughed, you let his hands go and let him do it on his own.

“Are you ready for the reading?” You asked, tom sitting infront of you nervously and shirtless, both of your hands clean and creation drying in the back.

“I think so” he shrugged, you lit the sage “this is a cleaner okay, calm down. This is to save me and you from getting possessed”

His jaw dropped as he got up, a loud laugh leaving your lips before you told him your kidding. “Dont play like that y/n!”

You set the crystals out, on the end of the both of your ends of the table. “Y/n we arent transporting to another dimension, right?” He asked, looking at the sage and how professional it looks. “Noo we arent, you want the love reading or not”

“Im gonna shut up” he said and you agreed, telling him it would save the whole world. You shuffled the deck before knocking on it, his eyebrows furrowed as he let out that the sage stinks which made you shoot daggers.

“Alright tom” you let out a deep sigh, looking at the card infront of you. He looked at you confused, then looked at the cards.

“The Fool, High priestess, The Lovers, and death reversed” you looked up at him and lifted your eyebrows “are you resisting something?”

He shrugged “what could I possibly be resisting?”

“Im seeing soulmates, mystery and innocence. Maybe uhhhh something from childhood, someone from childhood”

He felt a cold chill, but made it stay hidden.

“Young, im getting young, you’ve probably walked by your soulmate already, had some type of chatting with them, gotten close to them, maybe some type of physical touch?” You mostly talked to yourself, tapping The Fool card before grabbing the deck, two cards flipping out and landing on tom. You reached over and grabbed them, “The World Reversed and The Star, tom you are holding something back and your spirits are giving you hope, they are hoping you are gonna speak up because you are disappointing them”

“Well im not holding anything back!” He said, panicked. “Do you think or feel like youve passed your soulmate?” You asked, he hesitatingly nodded his head. “That you have touched them?” He nodded again, a large smile on your face.

“Im so excited for youuu!” You danced in your chair, tom grinned a bit, “uhm with these card i feel like they ARE spiritual. Thomas” you glared at him. “And lets check the bottom of the deck”

You looked at the bottom and saw “temperance, i getting that after you do this, weight will be lifted off of your shoulders”

“Uhh okay” he awkwardly smiled, shifting in his seat. You looked at all the cards “lets get into looks”

“Im seeing a lot off y/s/c (your skin color), they might have y/e/c, i see they have a bright smile, y/h/c”

“Y/n?” He asked. You looked up at him and furrowed your eyebrows “why does that describe you?” “Describe me...?” You took it all in, going back and furrowing your eyebrows as you thought about what you said.

“Are you my soulmate?” He asked. “How am I supposed to know that? And uh, soulmates doesnt always mean that we like each other, were just connect platonically” “but what if we arent.......platonic soulmates?” He asked, looking at you.

“Why wouldnt we?” You did a panicked laugh. “I dont know” “do you think we are soulmates?” You asked, putting the cards down. “I mean, we get along really well” he looked away from you, you bit your lip.

“So we are soulmates,” “i guess yeah” he shrugged “platonic soulmates-“ “i-i dont think so” he looked at you, “tom what-“ “i dont wanna be platonic soulmates y/n”

Your eyebrows furrowed “do you like me?” You laughed, and he nodded, “i uh always have” he played with his fingers and looked down at his bare chest. “Why did you tell me sooner?”

“Huh?” He looked up at you. “You were obviously stressing for no reason-“ “do you like me too?”

“Yes” you shrugged, you had to. You noticed your love for him when he sent you your fith letter.

𝑫𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒚/𝒏,

𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒏𝒐 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒊 𝒉𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆-𝒕𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍. 𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊 𝒅𝒊𝒅 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒐𝒈. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒆 𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒄𝒐𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆, 𝒊 𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒂𝒚.

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆, 𝒕𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒚.

“And you didnt say anything?” “Well i wasnt into spirits and shit like that when i was 15!” You said to him. “So we love each other. Like not platonically but like” he put his first fingers together. “To fast!” You said, and he laughed standing up and leaning over the table and you did the same, his hand came up to your cheek as yours went to the nape of his neck to play with the hairs, he gently pressed his lips on yours, you giggled against his lips and kissed back.

When you both pulled away you pressed your foreheads together, both laughing and pressing each others lips together again “im like 95 percent sure our spirit guides are high fiving each other right now” you muttered. “Yeah?” He asked, kissing the side of your lips. “Yeah” “mhm” “are they like watching us right now?”

“I dont wanna freak you out” you bit his bottom lip tugging it. “You wont freak me out i promise” “nahhhh”

[toosicktoocare]

No one asked for this, but I can’t watch that latest 911 episode and NOT write for it. 

Spoilers for 911 Season 3 Episode 15 (AKA, the “we are going to fuck up Eddie, and you are going to cry” episode).

It’s been three days since Eddie almost died, and the water inhalation, the cold rain, and the newly-formed nightmares interrupting his sleep are beginning to take a toll on his body despite receiving a clean bill of health from the hospital he had been transported to. 

He wakes on the fourth day gasping and choking after physically pulling himself from a nightmare where he was trapped underwater and couldn’t break through the mud that was pressing in toward him. He presses a shaking hand to his bare, heaving chest, small coughs wheezing past his lips, and it takes a solid four minutes until the rapid patter of his heartbeat slows to a steady rhythm. 

He taps his phone screen, frowning at the far-too-early time. He still has three hours until he needs to wake up, but the mere thought of going back to sleep to those dreams sends a chill down his spine. 

He slips out of bed instead, shuffling quietly to the living room, arms crossed as the cool air seemingly assaults his bare skin. He slumps down on the couch, pulling a blanket that’s folded on the back of the couch around his shoulders, and he snags the remote, muting the TV as it turns on. 

He flips through a few channels, finally stopping on an infomercial for a new vacuum since of all the infomercials playing at 3 a.m., the vacuum seems the most interesting, but he only lasts seven minutes until his eyelids grow too heavy to stay open. 

*****

Nodding off without his phone beside him was certainly not planned, and though he feels as if he’s only been asleep for minutes, it’s far too bright when he gives in to Christopher’s near-constant patting at his knee. 

“I’m up, bud,” he mutters, yawning wide and loud. “What time is it?” 

For a few seconds, Christoper is silent, and Eddie’s eyes slip shut once more until Christopher mutters “7:23.” 

“Shit!” He flies off the couch, head reeling at the sudden movement, and he swallows back a few coughs as he starts toward his room, Christopher following slowly behind. 

“You said a swear word. I’m gonna tell Buck.”

“I know,” Eddie says, frowning as he digs through his dresser for a clean shirt. “I’m sorry, but maybe we can keep this from Buck, huh?” He grabs a navy blue, long-sleeve shirt he doesn’t recognize and slips it over his head before he starts looking for pants. “Keep it our little secret?”

“Maybe,” Christopher says with a shrug, and Eddie can only hope that “maybe” means Christopher will forget by the time they make it out the door.

“Have you brushed your teeth?” He asks, whipping a quick gaze back toward Christopher. “Do you need help getting dressed?”

“We haven’t had breakfast,” Christopher reminds him, cocking his head slightly to the side, and Eddie sighs and turns away to cough a few times into his shoulder. 

“Breakfast on the run today? We can get donuts.” He snags a pair of jeans and starts pulling them on as he stumbles to the bathroom. 

“Donuts!”

Eddie pokes his head out of the bathroom, toothbrush hanging from his mouth. “Only if you hustle those muscles.” He nods toward Christoper’s room, and Christopher squeals through a laugh as he starts his way back to his own room.

Somehow, he and Christopher make it out the door six minutes later, and Eddie’s about to race toward the closest donut shop, only hesitating when Christopher reminds him of Buck. 

“You said you were driving him to work today.”

“I did,” Eddie sighs, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose to try and squeeze away this growing headache, but then his phone chimes off and, of course, it’s Buck asking where he is, so he blinks a few times, rubbing at his eyes, before he slips his truck into drive and starts toward Buck’s. 

*****

Despite making it in the typical ten minutes, he’s still fifteen minutes later than he usually is, and Buck’s frowning when he opens the passenger door. 

“Took you long... Is that my shirt?”

“What?” Eddie glances down, frown curling at his lips as Buck hops into the truck, dropping his bag at his feet. 

“That’s definitely my shirt.” 

“Hi, Buck!”

Buck whips around to chat with Christopher, smile wide enough to blind, but all Eddie can focus on, for the moment, is the shirt. He tugs at it, confusion playing across his face. 

“Anyway, Buck draws out, still smiling, as he turns back to the front. “You’re late.” 

“I overslept,” Eddie grumbles as he puts his truck back into drive. 

“First you steal my shirt, and now you’re stealing my excuses?” Buck asks, head tilting slightly to the left. 

“And he said a swear word in front of me today!”

“You did what?” Buck shouts, playing up the over-dramatics, at the same time Eddie yells “Christopher!” 

“He said s,h,i,t,” Christopher spells out, and Eddie grips the steering wheel a little harder when Buck gapes at him. 

“No one is getting donuts if you both don’t stop ganging up on me,” Eddie spits out, and the loud screams that follow has him cracking a smile as he navigates to the nearest donut shop.

*****

“Are you okay?” Buck asks, voice considerably softer, when Eddie pulls into a parking spot at the station, and Eddie sighs for the umpteenth time that morning alone, shoulders sagging slightly. 

He drags a tired gaze to meet Buck’s worried eyes. “Yeah,” he lies, cocking his head to the side, “why?”

“Oversleeping,” Buck starts, “cursing in front of Christopher, and, no offense, but your normally perfectly golden tan skin is looking a little washed out.” His lips curl into a half-smile when Eddie’s face falls flat. 

“And your normally chiseled jawline is about to meet my fist,” Eddie spits out, opening his door and slipping from his truck. 

Buck’s quick to follow, snagging his bag and hopping out of the truck quickly to catch up with Eddie, who’s already grabbed his bag from the backseat and walked away from the truck. 

“Seriously, Eddie!” Buck calls out, jogging toward Eddie until they’re falling into step. “You don’t look well.” 

“I’m fine--”

“--and you’ve been through a lot this week--”

Shaking his head, Eddie stops and spins toward Buck, ignoring the slight sway in his vision from the quick movement. “Buck,” he presses, tugging on Buck’s arm until Buck’s turning to face him, “I’m fine.”

Buck’s eyes narrow as if trying to physically read through the lines, and his face is still pinched in concern, but he eventually nods slowly. “If you’re sure?” 

“I’m sure.”

*****

While Eddie knew that he wasn’t actually as “fine” as he insisted he was, if his headache and occasional coughing was anything to go by, he didn’t expect his legs to give out in the locker room after returning from their third call. 

He falls onto the bench with a low thud, eyes blurring, face burning despite his muscles trembling. His head is throbbing, a hammer knocking repeatedly at his temples, and his lungs are tight with a need to cough, something he’s been swallowing back more and more as they day’s progressed. 

He’s not surprised when Buck walks in after him just seconds later, still calling out to Hen over his shoulder, but his words trickle off toward a softer, hesitant tone that’s laced with concern. 

“Eddie?”

Eddie can’t seem to get himself to sit upright. The fatigue coating his bones has him hunched forward, elbows braced against his knees and face dropped into his cupped hands. 

“Um, Eddie?” Buck repeats, padding quietly across the room until he’s standing over Eddie, frown painted across his lips. “What’s wrong? Did you get hurt on that last call?

Eddie shakes his head slowly, the small movement alone bringing forth more pain to his head, and he keeps his face tucked against his palms. 

Buck’s mind flicks through possible scenarios, pausing on one that has the blood draining from his face. 

“Is it Christopher?” 

“No, Eddie mutters. He desperately wants to curl up on the floor, press his hot cheek to the cold tile.

“Then, what’s wrong?” Buck asks, dropping to the bench beside Eddie. He reaches out toward Eddie, cupping his hand over the back of Eddie’s neck, but the second he feels the alarming heat, he jerks his hand back, slips off the bench, and drops to a crouch in front of Eddie. 

“Hey, Eddie,” he starts, voice quick, as he tugs on Eddie’s wrists lightly. “Can you look at me?”

Eddie’s slow to oblige, his muscles moving as if fighting against the same, thick, wet mud he was trapped in. He lifts his head, and Buck sucks in a sharp gasp and presses the back of his hand to his forehead. 

“Shit,” he mutters, standing upright, “you’re burning up.” He glances toward the door. “I’m getting Bobby,” and Eddie can’t find it in him to argue, not as Buck runs out of the room, and not even when Buck comes back with Bobby, Hen, and Chimney hot on his heels. 

He can only cough harshly over and over into the crook of his arm when the others crowd around him, with Buck dropping back onto the bench beside him and Bobby crouching in front of him. 

Bobby’s quick to smooth a palm over his forehead when his coughing finally tampers off, and he whistles low, concern coloring his eyes. 

“That’s a hell of a fever you’re sporting, Eddie.”

Nodding, Eddie tilts to the right until his head’s dropping against Buck’s shoulder, and Buck’s quick to wrap a steady arm around his waist. 

“I’m not surprised after the well,” Bobby adds. “You’ve gone through quite a bit this week.” 

“You probably inhaled a lot of water,” Hen starts, frowning, arms crossed. “We should make sure this doesn’t develop into pneumonia.” She looks to Bobby, and the two share a silent conversation before he steps aside to let Hen assess Eddie. She counts his pulse, gauges his fever by touch alone. 

“I think you should be okay with a week or so of rest.” 

That clicks in Eddie’s head-- the first thing since everyone walked in. He shoots up to his feet, swaying, hand coming to his forehead. “A week?” he spits out, leaning a little too heavily against Buck when Buck stands up beside him and places a steady hand to the small of his back. 

“That seems a bit excessive.”

“It’s really not,” Chimney says. “You should probably stay out longer, but we know how you are.”

“How I am?” Eddie parrots back, brows furrowed, and his frown deepens when Hen and Chimney both call him reckless with worried smiles. 

“You know,” Chimney adds, “that whole hero act that’s got you in this situation in the first place.” 

“I saved a kid,” Eddie fires back, chest suddenly burning as hot as his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” Buck nods, “but you cut the line--”

“--you would have done the same!” The shout has Eddie doubling over into a coughing fit, and Bobby calls everyone to order as Buck eases Eddie back down onto the bench. 

“That’s enough. Hen, go call in two support members who can come in for the next week.”

“Two?”

“Buck’s going to make sure this doesn’t turn into something worse,” Bobby says, eyes finding Buck’s, and Buck nods quickly, silent understanding.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Eddie mutters, and Buck leans more toward him, hand gentle at his back. 

“Don’t fight this, Eddie. We’re all just worried about you.”

It takes a few minutes, but Eddie finally concedes, knowing he’s facing a losing battle, and feeling utterly drained after his small outburst. He waits as Buck gets instructions from Hen and Chimney: what signs to look for, how much liquids, how often he should get a reading on the fever.

And, Eddie’s hesitant to hand over his truck keys when Buck insists he’s not well enough to drive, but then fever chills start to slip up his spine, and Buck drapes his jacket over his shoulders. He gives in then, reluctantly dropping the keys into Buck’s outstretched palm, and trying to ignore the excited smile that briefly pulls at Buck’s lips. 

He’s frustrated when he finds he can’t walk on his own to his truck, and Buck can feel the quiet tension and tries his best to pierce it with light comments that Eddie can’t focus on around the pounding in his head. The second he’s settled into the passenger seat, with Buck’s jacket tucked over him, he drops his head against the window and drifts off almost immediately. 

*****

He comes to when, in his dream, he loses his last breath against dark, thick water, jolting awake with a strangled shout that falls away to a coughing fit. He clutches at his neck, coughing over and over, but then a glass of water is being pressed into his other hand, and he sucks it down, ignoring the voice beside him telling him to go easy. 

The water helps. His coughing tampers off, and he blinks past tears pricking at his eyes to see that he’s in his bedroom, and it’s dark. 

“What the hell,” he rasps out, eyes dragging across his room until they fall on Buck, who’s perched on the edge of the bed, normally bright blue eyes clouded with concern. 

“Yeah,” Buck spits out, “what the hell-- how long have you been having nightmares?”

“I’m not,” Eddie tries, but Buck doesn’t back down. 

“You woke up screaming.”

Eddie hands Buck the glass of water and sinks back against his pillows, one arm draping over his eyes. “Since then,” he sighs.

“When?”

“You know when.”

Face falling, Buck sets the glass of water on the bedside table and drops one hand to Eddie’s thigh. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I shouldn’t be having nightmares,” Eddie mutters around a few coughs. “I saved the kid.”

“You also almost died too.”

The words hit him in a weird way, like a bucket of ice water being slowly poured over him. “Thanks for reminding me,” he says flatly, and Buck sighs, thumb tracing mindless circles on Eddie’s thigh. 

“You know what I mean. I think what happened to you warrants nightmares. You think I didn’t have my fair share of nightmares after my leg? After the tsunami? It’s normal to have them after a traumatic experience.” 

“What are you,” Eddie mutters, lifting his arm and arching one brow, “a psychologist now?”

“Oh thank God,” Buck draws out, getting to his feet, “I thought I was going to have to keep up the act for the entire week.”

Eddie cracks a smile, a few small laughs slipping past his lips, but then his groggy mind catches up to his headache, and he groans, massaging his temples. 

“Where’s my kid?”

“The living room,” Buck says, walking into Eddie’s bathroom to snag the medicine he bought earlier per Hen’s instructions. “Playing Mario Kart.” 

Frowning, Eddie rolls his head to the side to see Buck. “Did you pick him up from school?”

“Yep. I told him you’re busy being a hero and fighting off a really bad monster right now, so we will have to be extra quiet for a while so you can focus.” 

Eddie drags his gaze back to the ceiling, chest bursting with a warmth that’s different from the stifling heat of his fever. “Did you feed him?” he asks, smile creeping at his lips. 

“Yep.” 

“Something other than takeout pizza?”

“I cooked fettuccine,” Buck says, smiling, an air of pride surrounding him as he hands Eddie two pills and helps him sit back up. “And he told me I cook way better than you, which basically translates to ‘Buck, you are superior.’”

Eddie almost chokes on the water he sips at to swallow the medicine, and he coughs lightly around the glass, both brows arching. 

“Oh, is that so?”

Buck nods, taking the glass back from Eddie. “Yeah, sorry, man. I don’t make the rules.” He helps Eddie back against the pillows and pulls his blanket back to his chin when Eddie starts shivering. 

“You know I’ve got you, right?” he asks quietly, hand brushing against Eddie’s forehead, and Eddie smiles lazily, sleep pulling at him, beckoning to him. 

“I know.”

[caffeinatedbraincell]

Hi everybody! Here's another short episode of fluff from my procrastinating brain. Enjoy :)

This fic is inspired by this Tumblr post by @fangirlshrewt97: 

Read on AO3

Nile sipped her iced caramel coffee, watching apprehensively as the argument that had started in the car snowballed quickly in the corner of the Krispy Kreme.

“It’s okay. Nothing beats the original glazed, anyway.”

“Shut up, Booker. What kind of donut place doesn’t have peanut butter donuts?”

“Andy, contrary to whatever the hell your sources are, peanut butter donuts aren’t a thing-”

“Yes, they are! I’ve had them before!”

“When, in 1920? That entire decade was full of bad ideas that have since been discontinued!”

Nile was about to step in and see if the situation could be salvaged without causing a right scene when her cell phone rang. The caller ID showed Joe’s name.

“Hello?” she said, moving away a little as the donut disagreement continued loudly.

“Nile, I need you to come pick me up right now,” Joe said tersely over the phone.

Nile was immediately on alert. Was everything alright? Had the safe house been attacked?

“Why?” she asked.

“Nicky is passive-aggressively doing the dishes he asked me to do six hours ago.”

It took a second for his words to register. Nile managed not to laugh out loud, but it was a near thing. Unfortunately, Joe seemed to sense her amusement.

“This house isn’t safe anymore!” he insisted. “Come and get me!”

“Joe- no. Nope. You guys have been married for 900 years! Figure it out.”

“No,” Joe hissed. “No ‘figure it out.’ Come and help me. You’re being an annoying baby sister.”

“Baby sisters are supposed to be annoying. Seriously dude, just talk to him. Apologize or something. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Joe exclaimed sarcastically. “He could whip out his longsword and murder me in cold blood, ever thought about that?”

Nile rolled her eyes. “Look, just… kiss him. Really well. So he forgets about the dishes you didn’t do.”

“That’s not how relationships work!”

“Yes, it is! With you two it is! Now hang up, I need to go prevent Andy and Booker getting banned from this Krispy Kreme, too.”

“Traitor,” Joe grumbled, before cutting the call.

Nile sighed. She looked over at the corner where Booker and Andy were standing out of earshot. Booker was gesticulating wildly, while Andy stood with her arms crossed over her chest, looking unconvinced.

It appeared none of the staff had noticed them, yet. And they clearly weren’t close to reaching any sort of consensus regarding donut purchasing. Nile rubbed her forehead in resignation.

Fine, she thought. I’ll go pick up Joe real fast. No one will even notice I’m gone. She tucked her phone back into her pocket and slipped out the door.

Back at the safe house, Joe frowned at his phone. Maybe Nile was right. Sure, Nicky had ignored him as he’d loitered by the entrance of the kitchen, instead focusing way more intently than necessary on scrubbing dried cheese from the bottom of last night’s empty pasta bake tray (in Joe’s defense, the tray had needed to soak more). But standing around trying to make eye contact wasn’t good communication, and it certainly wasn’t an apology.

Abruptly, the kitchen tap shut off. Joe winced. It sounded like the dishes were done. He took a deep breath, steeling himself to go back into the kitchen and face his husband. Regardless of what he’d told Nile, Joe knew he wouldn’t be subject to anything worse than a few more hours of judgmental silence, if even that. His Nicky was quick to forgive.

But when Joe re-entered the kitchen, Nicky had his back turned and was dicing something on a cutting board out of Joe’s sight. Joe sighed. If Nicky had moved straight from doing the dishes to preparing dinner, he clearly did not want to talk to Joe. Joe dawdled in the doorway, considering making a run for it and hiding under their bed covers until Nicky cooled off.

Suddenly, Nicky cursed under his breath. Joe snapped his gaze up, alert. A drop of red splashed to the pristine white-tile floor, followed by another, and another. Oh, Joe thought, feeling his heart rate start to relax. He must have accidentally nicked himself with the knife.

But the drops kept falling, and Joe felt something unpleasant stir in the pit of his stomach. The blood thudding in his ears started to get louder again.

“Cazzo,” Nicky repeated with feeling, reaching for a scrap of paper towel on the counter. The drops kept falling.

A cold sense of dread started to lace through Joe’s entire body. How long does a cut take to heal? he asked himself. The drops kept falling. How long how long how long…

The drops kept falling. A violent wave of vertigo washed over him, and Joe stumbled forward with a strangled cry.

At the sound of his voice, Nicky whirled around, eyes widening as he caught sight of Joe. “Hayati, what-”

Joe swiped a clean knife off the drying rack and sliced it across his palm. Nicky lunged forward, snatching the knife out of his hands and tossing it aside.

“Joe, what the fuck do you thing you’re doing?!”

Joe barely heard him over the high-pitched ringing in his ears. Nicky’s voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. Instead, Joe could only watch in despair as the skin on his hand stitched itself back together. His vision blurred with tears. The words echoed hauntingly in his mind: How long? How long did they have together? How long did Nicky have left? How long would Joe be forced to live without-

“Joe! Look at me!” Nicky grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and shook him, jerking him out of his spiraling thoughts. Dazed, Joe raised his tear-stained face in compliance. “Madre de dio…” Nicky whispered, raising a hand to cup Joe’s cheek. “Love, we need to get you inside. You’re trembling. Your skin is burning hot.”

Joe let himself be half-carried to their bedroom. Nicky propped him up against a pillow and moved to leave the room. Joe panicked.

“No,” he protested weakly, clutching Nicky’s wrist. “Don’t go.”

“I’ll only be a moment, hayati. Let me get you some water.”

“No, please, Nicolò…”

Nicky relented, sitting down on the mattress in front of Joe and studying the visceral fear in his eyes. “My god. You’re not okay.”

“Were you even going to tell me?” Joe choked out.

“Tell you what?”

Joe squeezed his eyes shut. “Stop it. Don’t be cruel, amato, don’t make me say it.”

Nicky furrowed his brow in genuine confusion. “Joe? Wha- what are you talking about? What’s wrong?” He took both of Joe’s hands in his and squeezed. “Talk to me, my love. Help me understand. What happened to you?”

“Not me,” Joe croaked. “You. Your hand. It’s not heal- it’s-” He splayed out Nicky’s palm between his own, scraping up every ounce of courage he had to look at it. He froze. “Wait.” He turned the hand over, running his fingers over the unmarred skin. “You accidentally cut yourself. While chopping. Where is the blood?”

“Joe, now you’re scaring me. I didn’t cut myself. What made you think that?”

“You cussed. And then I saw- I saw blood. Dripping onto the floor. There was so much blood, Nicky, and you kept bleeding…”

Several emotions crossed Nicky’s face in quick succession: pain, fear, confusion, worry, and finally, understanding. And then, profound relief. He huffed out a dry laugh.

“Yusuf, my beloved fucking idiot, did you by any chance happen to see what I was chopping?”

Joe raised his eyes to Nicky’s, bewildered. Slowly, he shook his head.

“Beetroot, Joe. An overripe beetroot. I was only alarmed because it was dripping everywhere and staining the nice marble cutting board on our counter.”

There was a suspended pause.

“Beetroot,” Joe mumbled, blinking languidly. “You’re not hurt? You’re not- you know, you’re not…”

“Mortal? No,” Nicky smiled, reaching out to rub his thumbs softly beneath Joe’s eyes. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”

Joe shook his head immediately, surging forward to press a frantic kiss to Nicky’s lips. Before Nicky could even respond, Joe pulled away, burying his face in Nicky’s shoulder and sobbing quietly with relief.

“Hayati,” Nicky breathed, bringing his arms up around Joe and pulling him closer. “Shhh. Joe, baby, it’s okay. We’re okay. I promise.” He turned his head to press a long kiss to Joe’s curls, rubbing a hand firmly up and down Joe’s back. “I have you, my all. I’m not letting go.”

Wrapped in the warmth of Nicky’s arms, Joe gradually managed to stop shaking. He mumbled something incoherent into Nicky’s shoulder.

“What was that?” Nicky asked, pulling back slightly.

Joe stared at the bedsheet. “I said I’m sorry for not doing the dishes when you asked.”

“Joe-”

“It feels like it would have been my fault. If- if something had happened to you.”

“Never, my love. You know better. Do not go down that path. I forbid it.”

“But-”

“Enough, Yusuf.” Nicky gently pushed Joe’s shoulders down onto the pillow, moving to sit next to him, back against the headboard. Instinctively, Joe transferred his head to Nicky’s lap. Nicky hummed in contentment, burying a hand in Joe’s hair and stroking softly. “You’ve worn yourself out worrying, haven’t you.”

“Hmph,” Joe grumbled into Nicky’s thigh. “And for no good reason, apparently.”

“There is never a good enough reason to see such devastation in your eyes as I witnessed today.”

“Don’t leave me behind, then.”

Nicky inhaled sharply, stilling his hand in Joe’s hair. For the millionth time, he wished in vain that he could promise Joe this. He leaned down to brush a sweet kiss to Joe’s forehead, hovering there with his eyes closed, willing his husband to forgive his helplessness.

“I love you,” Joe mumbled, already half asleep. “It’s okay.”

Nicky sighed, resuming the soothing motion of his hand in Joe’s curls. “Rest, my heart. I love you, too.”

Fifteen minutes later, Nile poked her head through the front door of the safehouse, looking around furtively.

“Joe?” she whispered. Receiving no response, she tiptoed further into the house. Nicky was standing at the stove, his back turned to her as he stirred something that smelled truly amazing.

Nile ducked beneath the counter to avoid being spotted. The least Joe could’ve done was be waiting for her outside. Then again, she hadn’t told him she was coming, so maybe this wasn’t entirely his fault.

“May I ask why you’re sneaking around, Nile?” Nicky asked, never taking his eyes off the stove. “It’s as much your house as mine, you know.”

Nile groaned in exasperation, standing up straight. “I’m not sneaking. I'm looking for Joe.”

“In there,” Nicky pointed a wooden spoon towards their bedroom. “He’s sleeping, but you can wake him up if it’s urgent.”

“Sleeping?” Nile asked in surprise.

“Yeah, taking a nap. Why?”

“Uh, you’re not…mad at him?”

It was Nicky’s turn to look surprised. “I don’t think so? Should I be? What did he do?”

“No! Uh, nothing. Nothing. I’ll just go…pick up Andy and Booker from the donut shop, then.”

“You left them at Krispy Kreme?”

“Yeah. They were taking forever to decide.”

Nicky chuckled. “Fair enough. Can you taste this for salt?” He held out a spoon of the divine-smelling stew.

“Oh, absolutely,” Nile grinned. Maybe this wouldn’t be a wasted trip, after all.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Can you please write a soft/fluffy one-shot where the reader is feeling unwell, so Jaskier takes care of her by drawing her a bath, and washing her hair. Lots of CUTE moments, such as Jaskier catching the reader wearing his shirt, and the reader confessing the reason why she is unwell is because she is pregnant. Thanks so much!

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, bathtime, nudity but nothing sexual, implications of an eating disorder but really it’s just Jaskier jumping to conclusions

***

A large hand found the small of your back. The hand, familiar and warm, pressed flat against you, calloused fingertips gently pressing into your skin. 

“Are you sleeping, my dear?” Jaskier’s voice came from behind you.

“No.” You sighed gently. You opened your eyes and rubbed the sleep from them. You rolled over on to your back so you could see him. 

“How are you feeling?” His hand found your stomach. You tensed beneath his touch, your hands automatically coming up to cover his. He furrowed his brows together, looking down at your stomach. “Are you hurting?” He tried to pull his hands away but you wouldn’t let him. 

“I-I don’t feel good.” You couldn’t meet his eyes, your gaze finding his hand on your stomach. 

“What hurts?”

“My head.” 

“Then why did you grab my hand?” Jaskier tilted his head to the side a little. Blue eyes carefully watched you, concerned and worried. 

“Your hands are cold.” You explained, nearly patting yourself on the back for coming up with an excuse so quickly. 

A sheepish smile came to his lips and he leaned down to kiss your forehead. 

“Sorry, darling.” 

“S’okay.”

“Perhaps you should have a bath?” Jaskier suggested, raising his brows a little. 

“I don’t know, Jask.”

“Nonsense.” He waved a hand in the air as he got off of the bed. “I’ll go start one.”

You weren’t able to get a word in before he disappeared out of the room. You sighed gently, rubbing your stomach. 

You knew very well that there wasn’t any getting out of the bath. Maybe this was as good a time as any to tell him that in eight or nine months he’d be a father. 

A little while later, Jaskier returned to the room. You were staring at the ceiling, your hand absentmindedly drawing circles on your stomach. 

“Are you ready, darling?” Jaskier asked, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. 

“I’m tired, Jask.”

“I know, my love.” He moved to your bedside. He began to pull back the blankets from your legs. “But once you get a bath, you need to eat something. You haven’t eaten all morning.”

“M’just gonna throw it up.” 

“Okay well we can worry about that when that time comes.” Jaskier took hold of your ankles and pulled you around so your legs were hanging off the edge of the bed. 

You whined but did little to stop him as he unlaced the sleeping trousers you wore. He tugged them off and then patted the outside of your thigh. 

“Come on, love. You can’t expect me to do this all by myself.”

You groaned as you sat up, putting a frown on your lips. Jaskier grabbed the hem of your top and pulled it off of you. 

Then he scooped you up in his arms and took you to the bathroom. 

“How long have you been feeling badly?” He asked, looking down at you. 

“Since I woke up.” You admitted. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

He placed you down feet first into the tub and then once you relaxed against the warm stones, he knelt down by the tub. 

“Let’s wash your hair.” He suggested. 

You crossed your arms over your stomach, wanting to hide as much of the bump as you could. You knew you’d been gaining weight. Your more form fitting dresses didn’t fit properly and not many of your pants wanted to go up over your waist. 

Jaskier noticed the way you seemed to hug yourself. 

“Are you cold?” He asked, pouring a cup full of water carefully over your head. 

“No.” You answered. “Why?”

“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

He began to hum softly to you as he washed your hair and then while he moved into the other room to gather your clothes, you washed your body. 

When Jaskier returned, he held out a towel for you. You started to stand but, but then at the last minute you remembered about the baby. 

“Jaskier? Can I…. Can I get dressed alone?” You asked, your voice timid. 

He seemed a little taken back by your words, confused. 

“Of course.” He nodded, setting the towel on the stool next to the tub. “I’ll, um, I’ll go make you some tea. How does that sound?”

“Lovely.” You smiled. “Thank you.” 

He returned the smile and moved to the edge of the tub. One hand cradled the back of your head while he leaned down to kiss your temple. 

“I love you, you know that don’t you?”

“Of course I do.” You nodded. “And I love you.” 

You watched him leave the room, pulling the door shut behind him. 

You let out a little breath, then stood up. You dried yourself off and then looked at the clothes head gotten for you. You frowned. It was a skirt and a top. They were comfortable to wear but you didn’t want to wear that. 

You wrapped the towel tightly around yourself and went to the bedroom. You got into Jaskier’s wardrobe, rummaging through the many bright and colorful pieces he had until you found a blue tunic top. 

You slipped the top on and abandoned the towel on the floor. You’d get it later. For now, your head and your stomach were begging you to lay down. 

You got comfy in the bed, laying on your side with a pillow under your head. You closed your eyes for what felt like just a few seconds. The next thing you knew, Jaskier was kneeling down beside the bed, his fingers brushing through your hair. 

“You must really be tired, darling. Maybe I should send for a healer?”

“No, that’s not necessary.” You shook your head, reaching out to run your fingers through his dark hair. 

“It looks like you stole one of my shirts.” He commented, messing with the hem of the shirt you wore. You smiled sheepishly. 

“I like how it smells like you. And it’s warm.”

“I can keep you warm.” He carefully climbed over you to get into bed. He wrapped his arms securely around you, his hands resting on your stomach. 

You were comfortable, except for the fact that he was holding your stomach. What if he could feel the bump? What if the baby kicked? Was it too early for the baby to kick?

You took his wrist and moved his hand off of your stomach so that instead it rested on your hip. The other hand you moved a little further down to your hip. But you said nothing. You weren’t ready to tell him. You wanted to do something special to tell him that he’d be a father. 

“Was that uncomfortable for you, darling?” He asked, curious. He wanted to know for future reference.

“I-I just…. I didn’t like that too much.” You admitted, your voice quiet. 

His breath was soft against your ear, his lips just inches from it. 

“My love, I don’t mind your size.” 

Your eyes widened and you turned your head to look at him.

“What?”

“Isn’t that what this is about?” He furrowed his brows together. 

You sat up and turned to face him. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Jaskier?”

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been lately.” Jaskier propped himself up on one elbow. “So what you’ve gained a couple pounds? I happen to think you look absolutely stunning.”

You couldn’t find words to properly explain how confused you were. But he could see it on your face. He ran a hand over his face and shook his head. 

“You rarely let me see you naked anymore. You cover your stomach whenever I do see you naked. You know that your size doesn’t matter to me, Y/N.”

“Jaskier, that’s-that’s not it.” You shook your head.

“Is that why you aren’t eating today?” His tone softened and heartbreak crossed his features. “My love, please tell me you aren’t-,”

“No! No, Jaskier! That’s not it.” You quickly cut him off, not wanting to let his mind wander and his panic rise. 

“Then what is it?” He furrowed his brows together. 

You didn’t answer immediately, instead choosing to let your gaze linger on his lips. 

“I’m pregnant.” You murmured quietly. “And-And everything I eat lately has been making me sick.”

His breath caught in his throat. 

“You’re…. pregnant?” He repeated, his voice soft. 

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. Before you even had a chance to do anything, he was pulling you into his lap. He tucked your head beneath his chin and let out a shaky breath.

“Oh gods.” He breathed out, a little laughing coming with the noise. “I’m- Y/N, I’m going to be a father! Oh, my love, my heart. You had me worried there for a moment. Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry!”

“I can’t help it.” You sniffled, turning to bury your face in his neck. “I-I’m scared, Jask.”

“Oh fuck. Me too. But we’re going to be parents! You need to eat! You haven’t eaten all day! The baby must be starving!”

“Jask, I’m going to throw it up.” You whined as he pulled away and started to get out of bed. 

“Darling, I know it isn’t fun but you need to eat something. At least try. The baby needs food, and so do you.”

You looked down at where he held your hand. Your thumb brushed over the wedding band on his finger. 

“I’m really fucking scared, Jaskier.” You cried, your face scrunching up as the tears escaped your eyes. 

“You aren’t alone, my love.” He engulfed you in a warm hug, offering you comfort in the warmth of his chest. “But we’re going to go through this together. I’ll be with you every step of the way. I promise.”

“Thank you, Jask.” You sniffled.

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an–actual–human–disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24

[satoruvt]

the color of you - you (7)

thank u for reading. this was an amazing ride. i hope this last chapter is as meaningful to u as it is to me.

pairing → keigo takami x reader

word count → 3249

summary → you’re not really dating, so you can’t really be in love with him... right?

song inspo → kill my time and best years by 5sos and the Tiniest bit of eight by iu x suga!!!

this chapter → y/n’s sad, two cute girls, a text, a talk, kisses, a happy ending for our favorite idiots in love.

warnings → super emotional sex at the end lol

It’s taken a while for you to get to functioning level. A while, you think, because it’s been two weeks and you just now are starting to take note of the dirty dishes in your sink and the pile of laundry in the corner of your room that you haven’t washed yet. Because it’s been two weeks and most nights you lay in your bed and sit there and stare at the wall. Because it’s been two weeks and you still replay what you said, over and over in your head, because it’s been two weeks and you have to will yourself not to cry when you see Keigo on news reports on TV or in the local newspaper.

A while. And you’re still not… okay, yet. It might take a while longer to get there.

The days go by quickly. You spend your time baking, like usual, but it’s lonesome now. It was never lonesome before Keigo - tiring, sure, but it never made you lonely. He never helped you out anyways, he sat on top of your counters and snuck spoonfuls of cake batter and icing like a brat (and pouted when you said no more, like a brat). And when you’re not baking, you’re scrolling mindlessly through social media. Or crying. Or laying in your bed. Or all three, at once, on the worst nights, because this shit sucks.

In retrospect, you have no idea why this hurts so much. Keigo and you, despite legal arrangements, were never really dating. He was never yours to lose. He was a friend, when it came down to labels. Fake boyfriend, if you really wanna be technical. That’s it, though, nothing else - you two are - were - friends.

Still, it hurts. It hurts a lot. It hurts so much sometimes you think you feel it physically; some nights ago you thought about it and almost-felt a bright flash of pain over your heart, like your brain expected it to happen but it didn’t. You cried for a bit after that. Ran yourself a bath at near-three in the morning, soaked emotionlessly in the hot water in the quiet. It didn’t make you feel much better, not really, but it soothed you at least for a short time.

You’re walking to Angel Cakes (the clouds are painted different shades of gray, so you hurry just in case it starts to rain) when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Your music stops - a call, it seems - and when you pull your phone out to see the number you see it’s Keigo’s publicist. You figured it was coming, but - again - it’d been a while, so it still takes you a bit by surprise.

You don’t even get to murmur out a greeting before the guy’s speaking. “Why did you call it off so suddenly?”

You blink, sigh, don’t even bother with a hello anymore. “I just… couldn’t do it,” you answer, and it’s at least kind of true. Vague, but true.

Keigo’s publicist sighs, this time, and you can almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, well, legally, you’ve only got three weeks left to keep this up. You don’t have to talk to him often, but don’t make it obvious something happened. Do you think you can do that?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“If it really bothers you, I won’t pressure you. Neither will Hawks. But I hope you stick around for what little time is left.”

The call ends with a gentle “okay” on your end, and then his publicist thanks you and hangs up. By the time you put your phone back into your pocket you’ve arrived at the bakery. You walk through the front, offer a few of your employees a tight-lipped smile, then make your way directly into the kitchen.

The day is so slow and so fast at the same time. It seems to take hours to mix ingredients, but proving dough for three and a half hours seems like fifteen minutes. That’s how it’s been lately - slow and fast and stagnant and flowing all at the same time. You stopped, but the world didn’t, and it makes you dizzy to try and catch up. Somehow it happens, but you feel barely there.

You’re usually just in the kitchen most days - you are the head baker - but all you’re doing is waiting for a few batches of cupcakes to cook, and it’s a busy day, so you decide the front of the house could use some help. You tell one of your employees to go on their break while you take over at the register.

The customers come and go; you write down names, call out orders and hand out pastries and coffees. Two girls walk in at one point - memorable, since one of them has bright pink skin and they’re both wearing UA uniforms, you recognize - and you smile at them when they come up to the counter, but they don’t order anything.

“Can we have a picture?” The pink girl asks, eyes blinking at you. You furrow your brows.

“What? Why?” is your first reaction, and the other girl - who has pink cheeks and a cute bob - speaks.

“You’re Hawks’ girlfriend! We love you,” she says, adding the last part shyly, and both of them look up at you hopefully.

Her words send you into a brief moment of thought - you miss Keigo. You’ve known that you do, it never leaves, it’s always in the back of your mind at the very least, but seeing these girls, knowing they’ve followed yours and Keigo’s relationship, knowing they fully believe you and him are together… it does something to you.

Nonetheless, the gesture is nice, and it makes you smile genuinely for the first time in a while. “Okay,” you agree, chuckling at their delighted giggles. They turn around, the pink girl holds her phone out to catch the three of you in a photo, and you throw up a peace sign and the cutest face you know how to do. As icing on the cake, they both order something to go, too. You call out a thank you for your support as they exit through the doors, grinning back at you.

The thought of Keigo lingers in your mind as your employee from before comes back out and you retreat into the kitchen once more.

-

You need to tell Keigo.

If he doesn’t already know. You need to tell him, because ever since those girls visited the bakery, you can’t stop thinking about it. You need to tell him because regardless of how much easier it is, you hurt him by not just explaining that he didn’t do anything, and there’s only, like, two weeks left until the contract is done, and if he never wants to see you again, he won’t have to.

You need to tell him.

You unlock your phone, finding your messages app and then Keigo’s contact. He’s sent a few texts since the two of you last talked in person (all asking if you’d be willing to sit down and talk) but he hasn’t sent anything in a while. Before you lose the little courage you have, you type out the message and send it.

y/n

can we talk?

Keigo responds almost immediately, and somehow it makes you feel worse about everything.

keigo

Yeah, of course

You tell him to come to the bakery after closing tomorrow, and he says he’ll be there. You put your phone facedown onto your sheets and breathe.

-

The next day isn’t slow and fast. It’s just fucking fast. Fast enough that it seems like only a few hours pass between when you get there and closing, and then you send all of your employees home and you’re wiping down the counters and waiting for Keigo to show up. Because you’re talking to him today. Because you’re going to tell him you love him. Wow.

You’re turning your open sign over so it projects “closed” to the outside world when you see him. He stands outside the doors, watching you watch him, and when you make eye contact with him it’s like a breath of fresh air and pollution all at once. Both of you stay where you’re at, still, until you see him offer a small smile and you don’t feel as tense, not anymore. He opens the door and you move to throw a dirty rag behind the counter.

“Hey,” Keigo says after a moment. He stands in the middle of tables, hands in his pockets, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Hi,” you respond, and God, it’s so awkward. “Um, do you - do you want anything? I could make coffee, or - I have, like, two leftover donuts from today, I know you like them.”

“No, I’m okay. Thanks.”

It’s so awkward. You nod, then gesture to an open booth in the dining area for both of you to sit. Keigo does and you follow, sitting on the opposite side. You get strange deja vu from it. There’s silence for a moment, but then you can’t stop yourself from speaking, opening your mouth a few times to get the right sounds formulated in your head.

“I’m so sorry, Keigo,” you say quietly, meeting his eyes. He looks confused, brows furrowed. “I didn’t mean to - to do this, I never thought I would, I’m just - God, I’m so sorry. I fucked everything up. I did this to us.”

“No, what?” Keigo responds. You fiddle with your fingers on your lap. “This wasn’t just you, what are you talking about?”

Your heart is pounding. You want to look at him, to see him, drink him in because you’re pretty sure it’ll be the last time you’re able to, but tears sting your eyes and you can’t see properly, so you keep your head down. “It was,” you murmur instead, wiping whatever’s slipped out as briefly as you can before looking out the window. The street in front of Angel Cakes is empty. In your peripheral vision you see Keigo tense, lean away from the table between you.

“You have to say it,” he tells you. He knows. He knows, he knows - time moves in slow motion, when you turn your head, when he blinks, the way he sounds when he speaks.

“I love you, Keigo,” you say. It comes out so easily. Too easily. It feels so right to say it, even despite the circumstances.

It’s so quiet. It reminds you of the night of the conference, and you know what’s going to happen. He’ll leave. You know it’s coming, he -

“Really?” Keigo asks, and why is he grinning like that?

“Yeah, I -”

“Holy shit. Holy shit - Y/N, me too. I love you too.”

What?

Keigo laughs like he’s relieved and you can’t move, can’t breathe, all you can do is look at him. He looks so beautiful and you blink yourself out of your trance, licking your lips before you speak again.

“You - too? You feel the same?”

“Yeah. Have for a while.”

A moment passes, but then you furrow your brows - “Why the hell didn’t you say anything? Do you know how much time that could have saved both of us?”

Keigo laughs, and it’s genuine and you know it is because his eyes crinkle at the ends. He shrugs, remnants of a smile still on his lips, when he finally speaks. “I thought you knew, and you didn’t feel the same. I figured that’s why you were acting weird, why you told me to leave after the conference.”

You need to move. You stand up, exit the booth, pace a little before stopping. “No, I…” you pause, running a hand through your hair. “I realized how I felt and thought you didn’t feel the same at all, and I didn’t want to tell you and have it ruin everything, because so much is at stake with your image and the bakery -”

Amidst your ramblings, Keigo had stood up as well, standing in front of you. He shushes you and you let him, looking up at him.

“So what I’m understanding is that we’re both fucking idiots?” He questions, and you let out a breathy laugh. 

“Yeah,” you say, still smiling. “I think so.”

The two of you just stand there for a moment, basking, before the thought hits you: you can kiss him. You could kiss him before, sure, but that was… for his image, for the contract. You can kiss him for you. You can kiss him because you want to.

You barely lean forward, but Keigo seems to get the message. You go slow - you don’t want to scare him away, you don’t want to scare yourself away. You want to remember this forever. But you close your eyes and feel your way through it, sigh when your nose bumps his and then you’re kissing him, for real, for you. And it’s so much better than it ever was before, because you know he loves you, he loves you.

It’s short, but you let yourself sink into it, fall into Keigo like you never let yourself do before. His arms wrap around your waist as yours come around his shoulders and you stay like that for a minute, feeling and breathing and loving, before the two of you break away.

“You’re really good at that, hero,” you say, just like the first time, and Keigo grins. A thought crosses your mind and you take half a step away from him. “So, um, the bakery’s closed, and I was just gonna head home but would - do you - do you want to come with me? To, uh, to my place?”

You’re sure you sound stupid, stuttering and fumbling over your words, but when you meet Keigo’s eyes he looks like he couldn’t be more enthralled by an invitation. So you grab your things and lock up Angel Cakes and the two of you are at your apartment in fifteen minutes flat.

You unlock your door, throw your things down on the couch and turn around to face Keigo, who’s still at the door.

“Be honest,” he starts, “did you bring me here to kill me?”

“Obviously,” you answer quickly, and he laughs and you laugh and it’s so much better than before because he pulls you close again and presses giggly kisses against your lips and you do too. And then giggly kisses turn to kisses, and kisses turn deeper.

They’re deep enough that it’s getting kind of hard to breathe correctly, and when his hands move on you you sigh. He turns his mouth down to kiss at your neck and you swallow, relishing in the feeling of his tongue against your skin, before letting out a hoarse call of “bedroom,” which you feel Keigo grin at.

He stops his assault, though, and lets you lead him to your bed. You gently push him onto it, get him to sit down, then pull away enough to take your shirt off and when it’s off he just stares for a moment. It makes you a bit too aware of the fact that you’re here, with Keigo, and this is very obviously leading somewhere, but then he makes cute grabby hands at you and you giggle as you situate yourself between his legs. 

It takes little time for both of you to strip down completely, never leaving each others’ hold for more than a few seconds. You end up under Keigo as he preps you, curls his fingers into you until you’re mewling and gasping into his open mouth.

“Keigo,” you call, but more to ground yourself. Euphoria shoots from your core to your toes to the top of your head. “Please, I - I need -“

“What do you need, sweetheart?” He’s murmuring, silvertongued and sweet, “I’ll give you anything, just ask.”

A million cheeky responses run through your head but then one of his fingers rubs over your clit and you want to sob. “You. You, Kei, only you, just -“

Keigo groans, pulling his fingers away from you only to mumble a disgruntled “where the hell are the condoms” and when you giggle breathlessly he sends you a playful glare. You reach a blind hand to your bedside table, pull open the drawer with a bang and don’t even bother to shut it after you’ve pulled out a condom. 

He’s quick to put it on (and you pretend you aren’t absolutely mesmerized by his hands as he tears open the package), and once he’s pressed up against your entrance he looks up at you, a lingering question of “you’re sure?” and you nod.

“Love you,” Keigo gasps as he enters you. “God, I love you.”

His words make your heart swell and he pauses, letting you adjust to him before you ease him into a rhythm with a gentle roll of your hips. He feels like honey, warm and slow, taking his time with you and you wouldn’t have it any other way. He feels so good and sounds so beautiful and you love him, you love him, you -

Neither of you are rushing, and there’s no need to. You’re already close, your sighs and whimpers rising. You look up at Keigo and sweat shimmers on him like gold, drenched in the lingering blue light of the sunset - he reminds you of the world. Beautiful and true and glowing. You tell him you’re close and your voice is wrecked with emotion and his eyes are bright, bright.

“Thank god, I was never gonna last long,” he says, and you chuckle as best you can, air stripped from your lungs with every drag of him inside of you. “You drive me crazy.”

One of your hands runs down from around his neck, traces up until it rests on his cheekbone. He looks so gorgeous like this - gentle yet exasperated, hair curling wildly around his face and mouth hung open. He leans into your touch and moves his hips faster, and the one hand that isn’t occupied with touching him runs down between both of your bodies until your own fingers reach your clit, tracing circles until you explode.

Your orgasm rips through you slow and sweet like something you’ve seen coming from miles away. As you come down from your high, Keigo’s just reaching his, and you swear to any deity you can that it’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever see. His wings unfold and spread in a flash of bright red, eyes clenched shut and he moans, letting himself fall further on top of you. He doesn’t let his entire body weight collapse onto you, and you lazily pull your arms around him as he shudders under your touch. 

The two of you lay there like that for some time, simply basking in each other. Eventually Keigo pulls out of you and disposes of the condom, and the second he gets back into bed he’s curling himself into your arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You close your eyes and smile into his hair.

“I love you,” you tell him. “Thank you for letting me love you.”

“You’re welcome,” he responds, and you scoff, but he takes himself out of your neck to look directly at you. “Thank you for giving me a chance to be loved by you,” he says. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

All the colors in your universe appear in him.

[yoonseoksoftie]

study buddies.

› pairing: bts x reader › word count: 1.5k › tags: poly!bts | idol!bts | fluff | slice of life  › summary: ❝ college is difficult and stressful, everybody knows that. after several hours of trying to finish off an essay for a class, you find yourself questioning your abilities and desire to finish your studies. fortunately, you have the company of your seven amazing boyfriends to remind you that there isn’t an obstacle you can’t overcome. ❞ › a/n: to anyone struggling with school, don’t give up! you are smart enough and you will graduate! everything will be alright! with that said, please let me know what you think of this.

The glowing screen of your computer stared back at you, the brightness of the artificial light straining your eyes. You didn’t know where you had gone wrong, you had planned everything to perfection. Every indent, comma, sentence, and paragraph yet, your brain refused to cooperate with you. The first hour and a half the information had spilled from your brain like a river, your fingers typing word after word as if you were a scientist explaining his newfound discovery. But somewhere between the tenth page of your paper and the sunlight outside your window slowly dispersing, your brain had turned into mush. The last hour had been spent deleting half-completed sentence just to re-write another half sentence before deleting it.

A frustrated sigh left your throat, annoyed you slammed your laptop shut and pushed it against the wall. This wasn’t supposed to be happening to you, you had gone to the library and read countless of books and academic journals regarding your topic, jotted down notes with useful information and highlighted key details that you were sure were going to earn you a few extra points. All of your planning was for nothing. You felt your throat closing up and a burning in your eyes as you held back tears. Was it even worth it? Countless of hours gone to waste over a sudden writing slump, it was truly unfair.

“Baby?”

The sound of your boyfriend’s quiet yet firm voice made you jump in surprise. You had been so caught up in your work you had forgotten he was sitting a few feet away from you. Your frustration slowly transformed into embarrassment. Here you were crying over a paper while he and your six other lovers dealt with one of the most demanding jobs in the world day in and out without a complaint. You let out a small sniffle before smiling at him, pretending as if nothing was wrong, you didn’t want to worry him any further. With their comeback right around the corner, the last thing you wanted was to be another source of distress.

“Heeey!” You let out, waving at him as if it were the first time you were seeing him, your voice an octave higher than usual.

“Everything all right?” He questioned skeptically, his brows creased in a frown. “You sounded like you were having a little trouble back here.”

“Oh no, everything is fine back here.” You spoke, lying through your teeth.

“Really?” The tone in Jimin’s voice was that of a parent trying to out their child on a lie. Walking towards you, he crouched in front of you, taking both of your hands in his. Warm plush lips met the cold flesh of your hands.

“Out with it, c’mon.”

You sighed, glancing up at the roof. The faucets in your eyes began turning once more, releasing the flow of tears. How could you explain to your boyfriend that you were ready to give up on your dreams over a twenty-paged paper? It was ridiculous.

“You’ll think it’s stupid,” You tried to reason, the fight in you was weak as he rubbed his thumbs over the top of your hands.

“I doubt it,” he answered immediately, offering you a kind smile as he wiped your tears away with the pad of his finger. “There’s nothing stupid about you.”

You remained silent for a few seconds, trying to find the right words to make yourself sound rational and not like a whining baby. The boys had commented before on your refusal to accept help from anyone, claiming that welcoming a helping hand didn’t automatically cancel out your independence.

“Babe,” you heard Jimin call for you again, the one syllable drowning with concern. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

He was right, of course, he was right. Perhaps speaking with him would clear your mind. He was a good listener, after all, that was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him. You cleared your throat and looked at him.

“You have to promise not to laugh, okay?”

He raised his right hand, a small smile extending the corners of his lips. “Scouts honor.”

The simple action brought a side smile to your face, without much effort he was already making you feel better. You had really hit the jackpot with these boys.

“There’s just this paper I have to finish by midnight and,” you paused, your face heating up in slight embarrassment. “I can’t seem to write it no matter how hard I try and I swear I did all of my research! I did!”

You quickly reached for your notebook in an attempt to defend yourself from the non-existent judgment coming your way.

“Hey, hey,” he spoke softly, pulling the journal from your hands. “I don’t doubt that you did your research. You’re one of the most intelligent people I know, you’re just a little frustrated it seems, and I bet you a box of donuts you haven’t taken a break from writing since I got here.”

You hanged your head in shame, once again he was right. This was all your doing.

He brought your hands to his lips, placing a soft kiss on each hand before standing up and bringing you up with him.

“Go wash your face and change into something more comfortable,” he said, looking down at your skinny jeans in distaste. “It’s going to be alright, I promise.”

You nodded and followed his instructions. Making your way into your bedroom you changed into a pair of sweats and one of Jungkook’s old t-shirts. Standing in front of the mirror you took in your appearance for what felt like an eternity. The long hours were starting to take a physical toll on you, the bags under your eyes were prominent and you were sure makeup wasn’t going to cover them very well. You hair resembled a birds nest, sticking in every which way. You opened the faucet and splashed cold water onto your face. Drying your face you took one last look at yourself, “You got this!”

Stepping out of your bedroom and onto your living room you were taken aback by the increase in testosterone in the room. Surrounding your dining table were your seven boyfriends all in deep conversation. They quieted down when they became aware of your presence. Your eyes met with Jin’s, who instantly got down from the kitchen counter to greet you.

“Hello, sweetheart.” He wrapped you in his arms and placed a kiss on your forehead. The warmth of his embrace made you feel like a child once more, safe and carefree.

“W-what are you guys doing here?” You questioned, coming out of your miniature daydream, still a little confused as to why all seven of them were occupying your living room.

“A little bird told us you were having trouble with your homework,” You turned in the direction of the deep voice, your eyes landing on your box-smile wearing boyfriend. “And now, I may not be the best at writing papers but I can offer an endless supply of encouraging words.”

You felt your heart swell at his words. Had Jimin done this while you were changing? It made sense if he had, unlike Hoseok, Taehyung, and Jungkook, Jimin wasn’t one for grand gestures. He showed his love through actions, just like right now. Sneaky little man.

“I brought some of my old textbooks,” you heard Namjoon speak from behind a stack of thick hardback books, his head peeking to the side, a dimpled smile adorning his face. “From the looks of it your notes will be more than enough but a little extra information never hurt anybody.”

“I,” exclaimed a voice to your left. “Complied the most amazing study playlist.” Standing next to your Bluetooth speaker stood Yoongi, phone in hand as he tried to connect the devices. “Trust me, now this is a study playlist.”

Your eyes were filling up with tears once again, but this time they were tears of joy. You loved these boys so much and despite their busy schedules they still made time for you and your problems.

“B-babe?” Strong and firm hands enveloped your face. “Is something wrong? Is this too much?”

“Too much?” you repeated, dumbfounded. “Never. T-this is perfect, I just— thank you, for making time for me.”

You wiped your eyes and looked at Hoseok’s deep brown eyes.

“Always.” He murmured gently, his words heavy with sentiment. The emotion his words carried fueled you, suddenly you felt strong enough to tackle any obstacle coming your way. You were going to kick this assignment’s butt.

“Good, I’m glad that’s settled,” you heard the youngest one speak, a beaming bunny smile taking over his face. “Because I brought snacks!”

“See,” Jimin commented, taking a small bag of your favorite snacks and shacking them lightly. “I told you it was going to be all right.”

You smiled at him, nodding. They were always there for you when you needed them, ready to aid you in any way they could. You only hoped you were able to reciprocate and make them feel just as loved.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together, rubbing them against each other. “Who’s ready to finish this paper?”

The room was instantly filled with whooping sounds and something that sounded like a war cry. You could definitely do this.

[jack-jupiter]

I was twenty, the first time I hurt someone. I was coming out of the mall, clutching a bag of comicbooks, when I heard my least favorite word thrown at me, like a knive in my back. “Psh. Fruitcake.” I stopped on the sidewalk, but I didn’t dare turn around. I hate using the word “thug”. As a black man, it hurts my spirit. The word crawls, mettallic, over my skin. It gives me goosebumps. But that’s what they were. Not quite “fresh” from high school, but not yet seasoned in life. Twenty year olds, like me, but they wore the clothes of the social elite, the watchdogs of performative masculinity. They noticed that I had froze. And just when I was about to continue on and cross, the same voice cackled. “Nigga, I bet when you shit, fruit loops come out!” My ears began to ring. I became hot. In my homosexual hyperviligance, I tuned into my surroundings. There were two families sitting at nearby tables, watching, not intervening. And why would they? Again, I froze. I was crushing the binding to my new purchases. Anger feels like sleeper pods that were planted throughout your body, suddenly all coming alive, at once. I was losing control of myself. So what did I do? I disassociated. I hovered over my body, feeling nothing, dreaming, and in that dream-like haze, I watched my body turn around.... "What?” he shouted. I don’t remember how I got on top of him. In my astral state, it took me a while to register what was truly going on. But I was breaking his jaw open with the edge of fist, until finally it shattered into three pieces. I don’t know if it was shock that kept his friend at bay, but when my body had finished mashing his disfigured face into spittle, I kept his head forced on the cement with my wet hand and went to town on his ribs -- pounding, pounding, pounding -- waiting for something to break beneath me, to shatter, when the security guard pulled me off. That’s when I learned about the three pieces. He would have to get his jaw wired back together, just like my aunt had. The security guard was talking and I was compliant, but I was still dreaming, wondering if this made me as bad as my uncle, because the feeling of bones breaking beneath my knuckles felt too good. It was too satisfying. I had never harmed someone like that in my life. I was the nice child. The responsible child. The artist.  My dad paid whatever was on the guard’s slip, and eerily, he seemed happy about it, like I had finally made a man out of myself. My whole childhood, I wasn’t allowed to cry. I couldn’t sing Whitney Houston songs without changing the pronouns. And when I came out, he tried to buy me a sex worker, to prove it was “just a phase”. (I was still a teenager.) So when even that proved futile, he resigned himself to the same sentence, the only damn sentence he would say if my homosexuality came up: “If you were really gay, you wouldn’t need my approval....”  Just like that, I was crucified, and now here he was, jolly that I’d broken some kid’s jaw in three pieces. My father wasn’t a stranger to domestic abuse, just like my uncle. He’d struck my stepmother while she was still pregnant, and it wasn’t really that long ago. It made washing the blood off my knuckles feel weird, like I had joined some ancestral mass karma; but I quickly withdrew back to my apartment, back to dreaming. But then, a few years later, someone turned their back on me. I turned them around, forcing them to face me, then after a breath, I punched them in the mouth. I found out that though I had resigned myself to feeling unreal, my violent alter-ego deeply resented being ignored. I didn’t dislodge any teeth, to my comfort and dismay, but I was satisfied. They knew never to ignore me again. I was a rational person. It’s not like I go around pummeling strangers for nothing. I was just making things fair. It wasn’t until I was in my late twenties that I knew I had a problem. I was uncovering all my childhood trauma, and truly unearthing how deeply my childhood emotional neglect had affected my life. I had never had sex with a man. I could count how many men I’d kissed on one hand. I had slept through my own urges, because I didn’t trust anyone with my body. I found myself fantasizing about Paul, wishing to return to simpler times where my sexuality wasn’t so confusing. But the older I got, the more complex I discovered my psyche was. And what was worse, I was getting triggered everywhere I went. I was triggered when people ignored me. I was triggered when men tried to touch me. I was triggered by police brutality. I was triggered by homophobia. I was triggered by any racial discussions, and it was frightening how much rage ebbed beneath my disassociative reflex. When words would crawl over my skin, I could feel my alter-ego being aroused, waiting. So I created a room inside my mind, locked him inside, and became a “nice person” again. I nurtured my relationships, ignored my impulses, and steadied rocked boats like my life depended on it. I had grown wise among my peers for my self-control, but the more I ignored the anger writhing in that room, the more I lost my sense of self. I didn’t know that our anger provided clarity to definitively set boundaries, or that anger gave one agency to make changes in one’s life. I was too frightened to release my alter-ego. I feared what my new family of friends would think. It felt more righteous to suppress such raw, unpleasant emotions in favor of harmonizing the social equilibrium. But it did not help. The rage found its escape from behind my eyes. My gaze became hypnotic and arresting. “It’s like you’re looking into my soul,” they would say. But what I was looking for, were threats. I was projecting the very intensity that I was trying to mask. But if I wasn’t hypervigilant, someone might rouse the other me. So I pre-emptively scanned and scrutinized everyone in my aura, to protect them -- and myself -- from my own other self. When taking over my eyes didn’t work, I started getting tremors and digestive problems. It was as if there was a force inside, thrashing to get out, and sometimes I would forget the cause and wonder why. I tried to fix it with vitamins and exercise. I would soak in epsom salt tanks and get massages. But no matter what I did, everyone would still ask, “Why so tense? You’re usually so laidback.” And that was the secret to my laidback effervescence: it was devoid of polarity. My personality was a half-truth. But even with my alter-ego locked up in my body, there were still coincidences. The co-worker who took my parking spot would suddenly become ill. The restaurant with the racist waitress was forced to close down. Once, while a friend and I were walking toward a supermarket, in the dark, my shoulder collided with someone leaving. “Watch where yer goin’!” he shouted as he continued toward the parking lot. I took a deep breath and kept walking, and before my friend could make a snide comment, the man behind me had doubled over. He was vomiting. My friends began to catch on that bad things happen to people who mess with me, and honestly, I liked the rush. My shadow was protecting me, even within the confines of my mental prison. I had developed a spunky but righteously passive persona, so it gave me a newfound feeling of dignity. Until, I had an argument with my uncle, about Trump, on the internet. I let myself get upset but concluded that I should just block him. What should I expect from my white uncle? When I saw him next, I righteously apologized, but then we argued again, about the US colonizing Mexican land. I decided I just can’t talk about politics with my uncle. It would just end badly. Next time I saw him, I’d just tailor the conversation away from any landmines. But... I never saw him again. He died of a heart attack. To this day, I don’t believe I killed my uncle, but the thought frightened me beneath my bones. I wasn’t close to my uncle, but I still had regrets about our last encounter. I wished that things were different.  It wasn’t until my grandma died that I really became afraid. I used to be my grandmother’s favorite, but I had put some distance between us. I was upset as an adult by how abusive and one-sided our relationship was. So I moved to Oakland and rarely visited. When she called for Thanksgiving, I didn’t call her back. I had gone to the woods, alone. Holidays brought up a lot of trauma for me, so I thought I was practicing self-care by putting myself first.... But Grandma ended up in the hospital, and later died that Christmas. I never got a chance to apologize. She was in a coma throughout her stay at the hospital. After her death, my tremors got worse. My panic attacks became more frequent, forcing me to find private corners to cry in. With my new awareness around mortality, I thought my body was failing me. I thought I was going to die. In a panic, I’d jog around my block, just to make sure my heart kept pumping. I could feel something thrashing inside of me but I’d forgotten what it was. I thought I was alone. So when I turned my jog into a brisk walk, I looked up at the sky, and I cursed God. I demanded answers. While I was walking in the city’s darkness, cursing under my breath, people would walk behind me, friends laughing and making jokes, interrupting my concentration. “Would y’all shut up,” I hissed silently. Then I heard a loud smack, and the rustling of cardboard. They had dropped their box of donuts all over the sidewalk. I kept walking. “So I’m not allowed to get angry, huh?” I seethed toward the night’s sky. “I’m just not allowed to feel anything?” Suddenly, a car’s tire bursted on the other side of the road. The pop echoed through the street like a gunshot. I flinched, then clenched my fists. It was unfair. What kind of life was this, if I’m not allowed to feel anything? I returned to my car, and I broke the handle... Now, I’d had enough. I stormed back down the street, re-entering the night. I was going to get answers. I shouted at the sky angrily. “And tell me in a way that I can understand!” I demanded. “Why is my life so terrible?” What happened next, I can’t really explain. It happened so fast, and there was no threshold for the event, just the clear blue streak of recognition. In that moment, I saw myself. The other me.... I was angry. But I was beautiful. And in that moment, for the first time in years, I felt whole. The door to the room must have come open, for within my psyche, I was confronted with the truth of who I was; and though it was wild, it was also comforting. His eyes were direct and piercing, just like mine. I knew that if I stared too long, I would be hypnotized, that eventually I would be able to see into his world, a world of vengeance and magic. Within him was held all the agency that I had denied for myself. Within him, within me, between us, was true power. In that moment, I felt real; and I realized that by denying my anger, I had not only lost myself, but I had hidden the wounds in my heart from my loved ones, and from all the men who had tried to love me. I was scared to show this new side of myself to people. I was so laidback, wise, and charming to be around. Integrating my shadow side would make me more decisive, more dominate, more mysterious and difficult to read. It meant I wouldn’t be putting up with half the bullshit I dealt with now. Ultimately, my shadow was unsettling. He disrupted all the harmony of the social membrane, and he rocked the boats that I was always so desperately trying to settle. It meant saying what I really felt, doing what I truly wanted to do, and ignoring the rest. It meant committing to myself and the continuity of my story. It meant remaining real. And beyond that, there were secrets, secrets that my shadow side knew, about the world, about people, and about magic. Do I dare? So I began to work with my shadow, but in solitude. The two of us together discussed current events, made art, and deeply harnessed the powers of the occult. As we became one, all my symptoms of illness went away, though the coincidences continued for anyone who crossed me. I felt dangerous, but oddly more whole. In truth, I had always been dangerous. The danger had just been locked in a room.  Over time, I was taught how to contact and make peace with my grandma, and with my uncle. I could finally feel a semblance of peace. I hadn’t revealed my shadow to any of my friends, and definitely not to my family, but I was doing my best, and my shadow understood. Some traumas were healed. Some triggers simply went away. But I was still stuck within certain patterns that I couldn’t escape. I hadn’t hurt anyone, but I wasn’t living the life that I wanted. The dire economic realities of this world were really starting to affect me. I knew that I couldn’t reach my full potential without some kind of stability. And there was the issue of romance. I was nearly thirty, and even without some of the blockages I had cleared, love and sex still seemed elusive. I knew I wouldn’t be able to forge much farther alone. I was going to need a teacher. 

[shootwinterfest]

Peppermint Mocha for Two

“Look at that, isn’t it great,” Root pointed to the large Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center.

“Um-hmm,” Shaw agreed to pacify her. Well, it wasn’t bad. The tree was kind of impressive, Shaw had to admit to herself. She guzzled down a venti peppermint mocha as she strolled Manhattan with Root leading the way. Root had dragged her along to see the sights in full holiday decoration. Root had called it a staycation.

“Shaw, do you want to take a picture with me?” Root asked with a smile. Shaw grumbled at first but couldn’t help but say “yes.” Root let a passerby take the picture on her phone of the two of them standing under the tree.

“We need to get back to the library. I have to stop by to pick up some things before I get to my number,” Shaw changed the subject as Root showed her the picture that was just taken.

“Ok, sweetie. I need to get back too,” Root put her phone back in her pocket. It was rare that Root was actually here for an extended amount of time. Usually, The Machine had her off halfway across the world. The only way they had seen each other lately was when Root had invited Shaw out to work on relevant numbers with her. This year retail wasn’t the only profession that had a busy holiday season. It seemed as though people were using this time to get a little extra murder in. Irrelevant numbers were starting to come in like crazy and it was Shaw and the others who needed the backup this time.

The whole team was stretched thin. Reese had been working on two numbers at a time and Shaw had just finished one this morning. She got a call for a second one by mid-afternoon and would work on the stakeout tonight. Root was also called in for a number and it was the reason why she was here in New York. Shaw knew she was also running some other jobs for The Machine as well. Despite everything, they managed to find a few hours together.

“Good to see you, Root,” Reese was in the library cleaning a rifle, “Shaw,” He nodded over at Shaw, greeting both of them. Harold was busy behind his monitors, he didn’t even notice them walk in.

“Nice to see you too big lug but I got to cut and run,” Root replied cheerily and a little too loudly, probably to get Harold’s attention. She reached over when she noticed that both of the boys were looking and grabbed Sameen’s coffee out of her hand. She took a drink and handed it back, letting her hand linger on Shaw’s wrist a little too long. Shaw yanked her arm away and cleaned the lid of the cup with her sleeve.

“You got your number, Ms. Groves,” Harold called back too Root, he visibly started turning a little red and clearly wasn’t comfortable with a little PDA. Shaw knew that Root did what she did to get under her skin and to get under Harold’s skin. Reese didn’t care, he’d probably tease Shaw about it later.

“Yep, I’m heading out to the middle school now. See you kid’s later,” Root waved and walked out.

“Your girlfriend seems to be in a good mood, did you have a nice date?” Reese said as he reassembled the rifle.

“Not my girlfriend. Not a date,” Shaw growled and took a sip of her coffee. She got a smug smirk from Reese in response. She wanted to punch it off his face.

“Mr. Reese. Ms. Shaw. Its nice to have everyone in one place but we have a job to do,” Finch said, looking up from his monitors, “Every second we spend chatting could be a second too late.”

 “You heard him, Shaw,” Reese stood up and reached for his jacket. He took the rifle and walked towards the exit. Shaw just grumbled, it wasn’t her fault that she was dragged into these conversations. She went towards the back to find the DSLR camera and a good zoom lens for her stakeout.

“Finch, I’m taking your car,” Shaw announced and got a nod from Harold. She’d do a couple of donuts in it for payback. Ok, it was mostly John’s fault but Finch was the one who scolded them.

Shaw was back out on the New York streets and was heading to the parking garage where Finch kept his cars when she felt her phone vibrate. It was a text from Root, she had sent the picture of them under the Christmas tree from Rockefeller Center. Shaw shook her head, to everyone else it appeared like they were dating. They were not dating. Nope, no way.

>>>

It had been three days and even when Root was in the same city as Shaw, they hadn’t seen each other. It turned out Shaw’s number had been the perpetrator the whole time and he was now sitting comfortably (as comfortable as you can with a broken leg) in the back of a police car. Fusco was there to help clean up the mess and Shaw had handed all of the evidence over to him. She then took the subway back to her apartment. Shaw felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and she picked it up and set it against her ear. It was from Root.

“Hello, Ro-” Sameen started to say but she was interrupted by the woman in question.

“Sameen,” Root started, shaky on the other line. “I want you to tell me…” she trailed off.

“Root, are you okay?” Shaw asked and switched the phone to her other ear. She had a hard time hearing Root with the loud group of pre-teens to her left. “What do you want me to tell you?”

“I don’t know,” Root didn’t sound alright to Shaw, “To listen to The Machine. She doesn’t want me too do this,” Root continued but didn’t elaborate. Shaw could hear muffled yells in the background and what sounded like a police or ambulance sirens.

“Do you need back up?” Shaw asked, she immediately felt on edge. Whatever was happening on Root’s end was not sounding good.

“No... Shaw, I’m sorry I called. It was a mistake,” Root said hurriedly and hung up. Shaw was left alone in the subway again. Root’s voice playing back in her head the entire ride. She didn’t know exactly what to do once she stepped back on the pavement leading to her apartment, should she go back and find Root? She stopped at a security camera at the entrance.

“Hey, you, Tell me if Root is in trouble and I’ll go,” Shaw said up to the security camera and stood there in the cold. She didn’t get any type of reply and she walked into her apartment building. She could hear remnants of holiday music playing behind various doors and for the first time this week, she didn’t feel like it was the holiday season. She opened the door to her apartment and walked in.

That night she got ready for bed and kept on checking her phone for any updates but she didn’t receive any. She ate, changed into something to sleep in, and crawled into bed. She hadn’t really managed to drift off to sleep when she heard her door creep open. Sameen sat up and saw Root in the middle of her studio apartment, a little too dark to see but she knew it was Root. Shaw quickly turned on her lamp that was nearby.

“What the hell. Root, your covered in blood?” Shaw took one look at Root and got out of bed.

“Its not mine,” Root said solemnly as Shaw checked her over. Sameen just scoffed and continued to peel Root’s leather jacket off and then her blue blouse. None of the blood had come from Root, just like she had said. “I lost the number,” Root’s voice sounded hollow.

“The number got away?” Shaw asked.

“No, the number is dead,” Root shifted her weight over to her other leg, “She was just a kid. Thirteen. I carried her to the ambulance,” Root’s eyes were getting watery. Shaw knew what it was like to lose a number but she never felt it. She never really felt it. Not the way Root could despite all of her “people are just bad code,” spill.

 “Hey, Eeyore, lets get you cleaned up,” She led Root to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She checked the waters temperature and helped Root get out of her bloodied clothes. She stripped down herself and got into the shower with Root. She lathered up the shampoo and helped get the caked on blood out of Root’s hair.

“What didn’t The Machine want you to do?” Shaw finally asked once Root was all cleaned up. She lathered shampoo for herself and washed it out of her own hair while Root lathered up a bar of soap on her back.

“She didn’t want me to wait around in the hospital. She didn’t want someone to recognize me from the crime scene,” Root rubbed Shaw’s shoulders.

“Did anyone?” Shaw asked.

“No, I let the ambulance go,” Root said, her hands stilled on Shaw’s back. “She was pronounced dead at the scene so there was nothing I could do anyway,” Root finished and Shaw turned around to face her. Root looked angry, a whirlwind of emotion was going on behind Root’s eyes and Shaw just realized that Root had been crying. Her tears blending with the stream of the shower. Shaw wanted it to stop, she wanted the Root who had gotten coffees and wanted to take pictures under stupid giant trees.

They finished their shower in silence. Shaw turned off the water when they were done and got Root her spare pajamas that she had left in Shaw’s apartment previously. They both got dressed. Shaw stepped out of the bathroom first but Root caught her wrist and backed Shaw up against the doorframe, her emotions left unresolved and scattered. Root’s eyes looked wild, she looked like she wanted to ask something else of Shaw but she was waiting for Shaw to make the next move.

“Want me to make you feel something else?” Shaw asked.

“Please,” Root whispered. Immediately, Shaw pulled Root in for a kiss. It was hard and messy and frantic. They knocked over a paint easel and a lamp trying to make it to the bed before Shaw pushed Root on the corner of it. Root tried to pull off Shaw’s tank top off but Shaw grabbed and held her wrists.

“Concentrate on me,” Shaw dipped her head into Root’s good ear and kissed along her jaw. She let Root’s wrists go and Root immediately had her hands back under Shaw’s tank top. Shaw threw the shirt to the side and helped Root out of her’s. “Look at me,” Shaw ordered and Root did. They didn’t break eye contact as Shaw’s hand traveled between Root’s legs.

“Sameen,” Root whispered as her breathing hitched. Sameen watched as Root’s eyes turned from anger and confusion to lust, her eyebrows knotting together as Shaw increased the pressure and speed of her fingers between Root’s legs. She held Root’s jaw with her free hand, their noses brushing against each other, and breath intermingling. They didn’t break eye contact as Root slipped her own hand down the front of Shaw’s boy shorts.

“Don’t you dare look away,” Shaw pressed harder and was awarded a gasp from Root in return. She wanted to make Root forget the day, even if it was just for a night.

>>>

Shaw woke up first, She had her arm draped around Root in Shaw’s small bed. The only way that they both fit was if they slept sideways on it. Shaw had to remember to get a bigger bed eventually if this kept on happening. She curled her arm tighter around Root. She normally didn’t do this, the cuddling bit, but Root seemed like she needed it and Shaw had the strange sensation that she just needed to hold on. That these moments were fleeting.

Shaw drifted off to sleep again.

The next thing Shaw remembered was the sound of her phone vibrating off the night stand, it woke her up. The blankets were cool and crisp as Shaw stretched out. She opened her eyes to find that she was alone in the bed. She reached for her phone and looked at the screen. It was from Harold.

“Good morning Ms. Shaw, we have a rather large quantity of numbers today. I’d like you to report into the library early.” Finch’s voice came through on the other line.

“Ok, sure, whatever, Finch.” Shaw sat up in the bed. She looked over in the corner and found that the pile of bloody clothes that Root had left by the bathroom door was now gone. “I’ll be there,” Shaw hung up.

She quickly got ready and took the subway to the library. When she got there Reese was already gone. Harold was at his desk and typing away. He stood up to brief her on the next mission.

“Ms. Shaw, your next number is Tyler Jacobs, he works as a security guard for-,” Harold trailed on and pointed at the pictures that he had set up. Shaw was wondering when all these numbers where finally going to slow down. Not that she needed a break. Not that she wanted to check on a certain someone. Not really.

“You understand, Ms. Shaw?” Harold was now looking at her expectantly.

“Yeah, got it. Save his sorry ass. Kneecaps only. No big explosions. Got it.” Shaw was hurrying out the door, ignoring Harold on the way out. She’d figure it out as she went along and checked her phone for any missed messages or texts. Her phone had nothing. She was wondering what happened to Root this morning.

She walked up to a Starbucks before finding Jacobs’s address. She hadn’t eaten or had coffee yet and her stomach was growling. “I’ll take-”

“Two vinti peppermint mocha’s and two of your chocolate muffins,” Root’s voice echoed behind her. She stepped into place beside Shaw and payed the barista with a stack of cash.

“Morning, Sameen,” Root greeted her in her usual manner. She looked to be in her regular cheery mood.

“Root, where the hell have you been?” Shaw asked as she took the brown bags with the muffins and handed one to Root. Root handed it back to her, indicating that both muffins were for her.

“I just needed a walk,” Root shrugged, like the last 12 hours didn’t happen.

“Are you on another number?” Shaw asked and opened the bag with the muffins. She then proceeded to take a big bite.

“Uh-huh,” Root nodded, “Don’t worry, about me Sameen,” Root said and took the coffees that were now done from the counter. The barista nodded at both of them and smiled. He remembered them from the other day.

“I added extra whip cream, your girlfriend gives good tips,” He said as he turned to Shaw.

“Not my girlfriend,” Shaw muttered back with a mouth full of muffin. He didn’t seem to hear as he helped another customer. Root just looked at Shaw with a wide smile.

“Your going to need a bigger bed, y’know,” She said as they walked out back on the sidewalk. Shaw rolled her eyes but she knew Root was right.

“Sure your not going to go psycho killer for yesterdays number?” Shaw asked starting on her second muffin.

“No, Sameen. I’m fine, as long as your here with me,” Root nudged Shaw slightly as they walked down the sidewalk. Shaw looked at Root questionably, she wasn’t sure if that was true or not. Root looked fine this morning but last night was a completely different story.

“Okay, stop,” Sameen stopped walking, not even caring that she was blocking the way for the people behind her, “Look at me.”

“Whats all this?” Root asked but she did as Sameen said, she looked at Shaw dead in the eye. It was the same way they had looked at each other last night.

“Now tell me you’re not going to go psycho killer on that guys ass,” Shaw stared back. She remembered the look in Root’s eyes after she had gotten out of the shower. She was a whirlwind of emotion that Shaw could never completely understand herself but something that Root felt more intensely than anyone Shaw had ever met.

“Sameen, If I was, you’d be the first one to know,” Root looked collected and calm. She looked like herself.

“Okay,” Shaw started walking again, she felt satisfied by Root’s answer. Root followed in step.

“Thank you, for everything,” Root said softly beside her, almost too soft to hear. They walked to the subway. Shaw needed to get to her next number and Root needed to get to her’s.

“I heard theres an ice skating rink nearby, do you have some time tomorrow?” Shaw asked as they walked down the steps to the subway.

“Its a date,” Root winked as they made it to the main level of the subway station.

“Not a date,” Shaw grumbled but Root was already walking ahead of her.

“Oh, its a date,” Root turned around and disappeared into a crowd of people hurrying to their next destination before Shaw could throw in another word. Shaw huffed in annoyance, she took a big swig of her coffee to cool herself down. Root was an unpredictable headache but maybe she wouldn’t bite off the next person’s head who called Root her girlfriend.

 From @hackers-and-hammers

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Take My Love: 4/?

It's New Years Eve! Let's wrap up the year with some Firefly AU, shall we?

Special thanks to @sroloc--elbisivni, who wrote the York section this chapter! Thanks Nina! <3

Mild warnings for flashbacks in this one, but generally things are a lot calmer after the last one. 

Summary: Allison Texas is a wanted woman. She stole something very valuable from the Alliance. And even if it’s going to bring a world of trouble down on their heads, Carolina can’t help but think it might be worth it.

Pairings: Church/Tex/Jackie (OC)

Previous

Also on Ao3

Doc checks them both over. Jackie screams whenever someone touches her who isn’t Wash or Donut or Church. (Well, Wash suspects she might not scream if Tex touches her, but he doesn’t want to dwell on that.)

“Well?” Carolina asks. They’ve locked Tex in her room for now, with the old preacher keeping an eye on her. She’d fought at being separated from the two, but wouldn’t answer any questions.

“Uh, well,” Doc shifted. “The blood’s all old, but I’m pretty sure it’s theirs? Nosebleeds, mostly, I think.”

“Nosebleeds?” Wash asks, feeling hollow. Jackie’s hair had been absolutely matted with blood.

Doc nods. “Lots of them. Over an extended period of time.”

Inside the infirmary, Jackie has her knees pulled against her chest, muttering to herself. Nonsense mostly, as far as Wash can make out. Something about a chess game.

“What happened to them?” Carolina demands.

“I’m not sure,” Doc admits. “It’s... weird. Physically they seem healthy. There are some signs of sleep deprivation, but cyro mostly fixed that up. Some bruising on the wrists, but it’s weird.”

Wash and Carolina both look up at that.

“Bruising,” Carolina says. “On the ankles, too?”

Doc pauses. “How did you know that?”

“You don’t think?” Wash asks, half turning to face her.

“I think that if they did that to you,” Carolina says, staring at their little siblings, at where Church has made his way over to Jackie and has curled up next to her, like a cat, “What would they do to a bunch of young geniuses, locked away from the rest of the world?”

Wash feels his wrists twinge. He can only imagine, and he knows he’ll hate the answers.

“We need to talk to Texas,” Wash says. Jackie is pressing her hand against Church’s face and crying.

Wash places his hand against the window. “She’s supposed to be at a fancy school in the Core,” he says, anger coiling in his stomach. “Frank heard from her three weeks ago.”

“I haven’t heard from Church since the war,” Carolina says, looking dull. “I assumed he’d cut off contact after I switched sides.”

Wash suddenly doubles over as Jackie suddenly lurches away from Church, crying out.

Straps around his wrists, a needle in his forehead, pain, pain, wracking pain. Fire flowing through his veins.

“What do you see?” A man he doesn’t know in the side of his vision. “Tell me what you see.”

Wash opens his mouth, and only screams come out.

“Wash!” Carolina pulls him up. “Wash, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he mutters, even though he’s shaking, drenched in a cold sweat. “Just--flashback.” A new one. The drugs they’d pumped him full of while captive had blurred his memories.

Carolina frowns. “We need to talk to Texas. We need answers.”

Wash looks up, and sees Jackie curled into a corner, sobbing. Church is curled up away from her, clutching the side of his head.

“Yes,” Wash says. “We do.”

After Tex tells them about the Academy, Carolina has nothing else to say.

Carolina makes her way to her bunk, avoiding the medical bay where her brother is.  

Epsilon yowls at her, hungry, worming his way between her feet. She dumps out a portion of dry food for him, and grabs her messages.

She scrolls through everything she ever received from Church over the years, ever since the last time they’d seen each other. She saved them all, even the stupid little scrawls and insults.

Now that she’s looking for them, she can see them, hidden in the short missives that he’d sent her. Mistakes. Slowly, painfully, she works her way through them, translating them into the messages she now knows are there.

T  H E Y ‘ R E

H U R T I N G

U S

H E L P.

S H E ‘ S

S C R E A M I N G.

H E

D O E S N ‘ T

C A R E.

C A R O L I N A.

H E L P.

P L E A S E.

They lock Tex in the cabin and won’t let her out.

As soon as the ship moves into the night cycle, Tex knocks out the shepherd keeping an eye on her and books it to the infirmary. He’s halfway decent for a shepherd, but he’s no match for her.

And after years of being kept apart from Jackie and Church, Tex isn’t about to let anything stand in her way, especially not an old man who tells her to call him Sarge.

It’s night and no one’s there. The door’s locked, and the lights are off. Tex breaks it with ease, seething that they locked them in again. They had been locked away for years. How dare they try to lock them away again?  

“Tex?” Jackie calls, her voice soft and distant. She’s sitting on one of the cots that have been provided, looking far away despite their proximity.   

“I’m here,” Tex says, moving into the infirmary.  

“Church is sleeping,” Jackie says. Sure enough, he’s curled up on his side, his head in her lap. He looks peaceful—it’s like being back at school, if it weren’t for the look on Jackie’s face—slightly vague and confused, but also distraught. She hasn’t looked present since Tex had dragged her out of the Academy. “It’s his turn.”

Tex swallows her rage. Why are they taking turns? “I’m here now,” she says. “I can keep an eye out.”

Jackie looks thoughtful. “You’ll stay?” She asks, quietly, as if she’s not quite sure she believes Tex.

“Yes,” Tex says, trying not to be hurt. She sits down next to Jackie, who carefully starts shifting Church so he’s between them, then curling around him. Tex lies down as well, carefully laying her arm over Church so she can rest her hand on Jackie’s side.

“I’ve got you,” Tex whispers.

“I know,” Jackie says, wrapping her arms around Church and burying her face against his back. “We’re safe here. Valhalla is good.”

It doesn’t occur to Tex to ask how Jackie knows the name of the ship, when no one’s mentioned it to her.

In the morning, although Carolina is furious that Tex hit Sarge and broke into the infirmary, she agrees to let her stay. There’s no question about Jackie or Church leaving, either. Carolina is not about to let her brother out of her sight, not after those messages she’s found. And she’s certainly not about to inflict that on Donut or Wash either.

It’s… not great, she has to admit. This changes things. When before they’d tried to stick to legal jobs, now there’s three fugitives who are hiding in her ship. Texas can walk around and help on jobs, but Jackie and Church are… unstable. They talk nonsense and gravitate towards each other, sometimes spending entire days without speaking, only hovering near each other, refusing to be parted at all.

They avoid the medical bay whenever they can, and Carolina has caught Jackie lifting up parts of the floor to hide in at least twice. Church is less prone to hiding in strange spots, and instead has ripped up Sarge’s Bible, endeared himself to Caboose, and thrown things at Wash until Jackie snapped and yelled his name.

Tex is of no help in figuring out these behaviors. She doesn’t have answers for what’s happened to them, and is just as likely to egg them on as she is to try to stop them. “They’ll figure things out,” she says. “Just give them time.”

Carolina’s moved Church into her room, not wanting to leave him alone, and not quite trusting him to anyone else. Some nights he sneaks out, and Carolina knows that he’s spending those nights with Jackie or Tex, but she doesn’t say anything, for fear of driving him away. Meanwhile, Jackie bounces between Donut’s room and the room that Wash shares with Tucker and Junior. A few questions to Wash reveals that Jackie also vanishes at night on occasion.

Carolina has no idea what to make of… whatever it is that her father has turned two bright geniuses into. Jackie, from Wash and Donut’s stories, had been a fiercely intelligent child who had liked books and games. Her own brother had been a giant nerd who had fought with everything and everyone, not a quiet, scared man who hates raised voices.

“I’m sorry,” she tells Church, one night when they’re alone in her room, with Epsilon sitting on her lap. “I’m sorry I didn’t see your messages.”

“You were busy,” he mutters, his green eyes refusing to focus on her, instead darting all over the room. “The war, you had the war, grenades and fire, and—”

“Hey,” she says, grabbing his hand. “It’s okay.”

“Not okay,” he says. “He was there, sometimes, he—” Carolina swallows hard. She doesn’t want to hear this, she can’t hear this, she…

He stops talking immediately and lies down, not even getting under the covers.

“Sleep now,” he says flatly.

“He’s not going to touch you again,” Carolina promises, unsure of what to do with the sudden change in pace. She reaches out and touches his face. “I promise.”

“Fifty four percent,” he says, his voice slow and sleepy. Then he closes his eyes and instantly falls asleep, as if he’s managed to flip a switch. Carolina carefully places Epsilon next to him. Epsilon gives her a wide, offended stare, but settles in, keeping her brother warm while Carolina goes about her nightly routine.

She can’t make heads or tails of the things Church says, sometimes.

York hasn’t grown his hair out since before he decided to leave the Core, but in his younger, vainer days he had it tumbling to his hips. He still remembers the routine of caring for it, the oils and brushing and pins.

It’s almost as soothing to practice it for someone else, and he can see the tension uncoiling from Jackie’s shoulders as he runs the comb through her wet hair again and again.

“I can braid this, if you want to keep it tidy. Pin it up so it’s off your neck, too.” It would be easier to keep it clean that way, too, but he has a feeling that she’s spent a long time being made to do things because they were convenient for whoever was looking after her. He adds, “It would look nice, too. Highlight your cheekbones.”

“You’re nice,” Jackie mumbles. “Careful. You don’t have to be. They tried to break us and couldn’t. You won’t by accident.”

York pauses, blinked, and continued, puzzling over that. Delta lets out a shriek from his perch, where he’s gnawing on a bone toy.

“Loose,” Jackie says, suddenly. “I can brush it.”

“Okay,” York says, and ran the comb through her curls again.

“I think your friend can read my mind,” York tells Tex later, when they’re hanging out around the table.

Tex cackles. “Yeah, she does that.”

“I feel like you should be more surprised by this.”

“It’s not—Jackie does that.” Her face goes soft, but York knows better than to mention that. “She’s good with people. She and Church used to have this game, where she’d matchmake couples and Church would break them up.”

York hums. It’s a companion trick, when you aren’t sure what to say.

Reading body language, he can understand. Companions are trained to do the same thing, to hear what hasn’t been said. He knows what that was. That isn’t what happened.

But he won’t start tension for no reason. He’ll just have to wait and see what happens.

Wash’s nightmares have been worse since Jackie’s arrived on the ship.

He guesses that’s not entirely surprising, given at the indications that the same people who had captured him had also been responsible for what had happened to his sister. And, going off the few cryptic comments that Jackie has made in some of her more lucid moments, he kind of suspects that he might have been grabbed because of her.

But his nightmares are not only worsening, they don’t make sense. They’re not like the old ones, which he had known pretty well, but they’re new and strange and… worse. He checks his arms every morning, searching for scars to correspond with the locations of the needles he remembers sinking into his skin, but there never are any there. He dreams of long stretches of time, of other prisoners, even though he’d been kept alone for a short period of time.

His headaches are nearly constant, a loud pounding that’s deafening, and a pain that makes him almost unable to leave the bed on some days.

“I’m sorry,” Jackie says, sitting at the foot of his bed, staring right at him during one particularly bad one. “I can’t stop it.”

“What are you talking about?” Wash snaps. He regrets it; snapping at Jackie these days is almost as bad as snapping at Caboose. She’s not all there. It’s not quite his sister, who had been able to give as good as she got.

She throws a pillow at him. “I’m not fragile!” She yells, her voice shaking and unsure, even as she grabs another pillow, climbs across the bed, and keeps hitting him over and over again. Wash throws up his arms to defend himself, but the blows are glancing at best. “They didn’t break me! They didn’t break you! They’re—they’re bad at breaking things!” Tears are flowing down her face, but she doesn’t let up until Wash grabs her wrists.

“Do you know why?”

Jackie stares at him.

“I’m good with people,” she says, her voice suddenly far away.

“I know, Jackie, but why did they do this?”

“It wasn’t working,” she whispers. “It wasn’t working, or they thought it wasn’t because we were pretending, but then they had you and it hurt too much and I couldn’t help it.”

“… couldn’t help what, Jackie?” Wash knows his grip on her wrists it too tight, but she tries to pull away, and he holds on, because this is the most coherent she’s been in weeks, and he doesn’t know how to handle any of this.

“It worked,” she whispers. “That’s the problem, it worked.”

“You said they didn’t break you,” Wash says, trying to figure this out. There’s something there that he’s not seeing, something just out of his reach.

“They didn’t,” she whispers. “But the other thing did.”

“What is it?” Wash demands.

Jackie shakes her head, her eyes full of tears. “It hurt,” she whispers.

Wash sighs, and lets go of her. She curls into a ball and buries herself in blankets and pillows.

Wash sighs, and lies down next to her. He might as well try to get some rest.

“Say it,” the voice whispers. “Say it.”

“No,” he says. “I won’t.”

Elecriticty courses through Wash, and he screams and screams and screams.

“Say it.”

“Pick—pick up the knife!”

The figure in front of him moves suddenly, and there’s a spike of pain, as the figure picks up the knife while the hand that belongs to the voice suddenly plunges a needle into his temple.

Wash screams, and he turns his head, his long brown hair falling into his face—

He wakes up with a start, and pushes through the cushions to find Jackie, who is also screaming, writhing in place as if being electrocuted.

“Jackie!” Wash grabs her to wake her up.

She wakes, screaming, her eyes flying open, and then she stops abruptly, staring up at him like he’s a ghost. Then she bursts into tears.

Wash tries to soothe her, brushing her hair out of her face. He scrambles, trying to remember a lullaby or something from Iowa, something to calm her down.

It’s then he notices the scarring on her temple, right where he had felt the needle being plunged into his own skull, moments ago. It looks… it looks like the scar that Wash feels like he should have, after that nightmare.

He thinks about the long, brown hair in the dream, the voices he didn’t know, the tests that didn’t make sense, the rooms that were too large, and were filled with strangers.

“Jackie,” he whispers, shaking her slightly to get her to look at him. “Have I been sharing your dreams?”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, gripping at his shirt with both hands. Her face is damp with tears, and she can’t meet his eyes. He’s not sure if she’s talking to him now, or in the dream. “I try to keep you out. I try, really. But I’m not good enough. It’s too hard.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, numb as his brain tries to process this information. “It’s… it’s fine, Jackie, really.”

Wash goes up to the others a moment later, his head pounding and his walk unsteady.

He leans against the doorway to the common area, feeling like the world is about to tilt on his axis.

“Wash!” Tucker says, looking panicked. He stands up from his spot at the table suddenly, upending the silverware and the protein bar that he’d been eating. “You’re supposed to be sleeping, why are you awake—”

Wash’s feet give out from under him all of a sudden, and Tucker yells, lunging forward to catch him. Wash sags in his husband’s arms, but he struggles back up, because he has to tell Carolina. He has to tell her, so they can put an end to this mystery once and for all, so they can start to figure out what all of this means.

“What is it, Wash?” Carolina is kneeling next to him, her hand cold on his forehead.

“I know what they were trying to do to Jackie and Church,” he says.

Texas appears suddenly, helping Tucker haul him to his feet. “What is it?”

“Psychics,” Wash says, leaning into the warmth and safety of Tucker’s shoulder. “They were trying to make psychics. And I think they succeeded.”

[vehlika-pelican]

possible warning for long post! and #rvb season 15 spoilers maybe "Happy birthday, Isaac. Daddy sure does love his little big man." -Horizon: Zero Dawn dont let the quote fool you, this is about Lavernius Tucker and Michael J Caboose. Caboose totally thinks of Tucker as his dad. After Junior was born Tucker had was obvious a father, right, but Caboose tends to confuse things that get even slighty complicated. So Tucker being a dad became Tucker Is A Dad became Tucker-Dad - whose dad? a dad has to be someone's dad. my dad? ...my dad- became Dad Tucker and finally just (Dad) Tucker. These two are the only original BGC blues left after (a year each season? 15 years?!???) all these years and they've clearly developed a strong friendship especially in recent seasons but in Caboose's mind I think it's more than that. Caboose's opinion on Tucker never seems to really stick because while he was initially competing for Church's attention, Tucker has proven himself to be a consistent and caring presence in his life unlike Church and even Wash. Tucker's still mean to him but it lacks the disdain and heat from earlier, and at this point when Caboose says he doesn't like Tucker its just reflex from so many years and for Caboose adaptation is hard. When Caboose was reassigned the new Blue Team didn't know how to handle him and he killed/hurt a bunch of them so they locked him up. Jones still got killed but I think thats getting into the darker side of Caboose of which no one in fandom speaks. (we should tho I think Miles Luna said he was a nearly unhinged murderer or something? and thats terrifying based on what we know but it could...get worse?) Caboose listens to Tucker when he knows its important and Tucker cares about Caboose. When Epsilon!Tex was kicking their asses and Tucker told Caboose to help him, he immediately did. But even before that he saved him without being prompted. When fighting the Meta, Tucker ordered him to stay away and to "try not to kill, [Epsilon] on accident" and Caboose just said "okay!" even though, strength-wise, Caboose could have physically fought Maine on more even footing than anyone else. Whether Caboose has the martial arts knowledge to have a Fight Scene is debatable I think, but its a clear indicator that Tucker doesn't want him to potentially get hurt regardless. After being without a team at Valhalla, there is no way Caboose didn't stick to Tucker's side (and Wash's) and try to make up for lost time. He tried to build himself a friend (a body for Epsilon) because he was lonely. He got Sarge and Grif to help him find Tucker because he was lonely. He wanted Tucker around. If he didn't, he could have just stayed in his base with Donut as his "prisoner" or have tried to play with the Reds. Instead he went and found his friend (and still got Epsilon a body and got two friends). He probably spent days living on top of Tucker and literally sleeping on top of him so he couldn't get reassigned in a dream and leave or something because Caboose is like that. Caboose didn't want to end up somewhere they'd just lock him up again (and i'm willing to bet they mistreated him a bit as revenge) and don't know how to handle him. He probably had nightmares and Tucker had to pull double duty comforting Caboose when he was dealing with Wash too. Tucker would warm up milk and put a big marshmellow in it (because he found out the hard way that the little ones can be a choking hazard for Caboose), wrapped him in a weighted blanket, and talk with him until he fell asleep, calling him Mikey and petting his hair. Tucker knows how to care for Caboose as his friend but I think also as a psuedo-parent. GoodDad!Tucker tried to be the best father he could for Junior, and a key skill parents have to have is patience. Caboose requires patience not just because he can be obnoxious but also because words, especially difficult concepts, and strong emotions can overwhelm him. Omega scarred and damaged his brain and he progressively worsened over time (i know the writers said it was for comedic effect). He doesn't understand things and needs them explained many, many, many times. If he doesn't get closure (mostly from Church's dissappearences apparently) he sinks into depression and tries to distract himself with busy work (trying to build a body for Epsilon, digging through rubble to unleash a mechanical pet that he spent a lot of time "training" and making a tiny sombrero for). When Wash semi-fixes his helmet, Tucker is the one to fix his visor which begs the question, how did Tucker know how to do that when I-built-a-capture-unit-Wash couldn't figure it out? Answer: because he's done it before. Tucker is the one that explains thing for him, who helps him remember to do what he would forget. Caboose likes routine- he likes when things go back to being the way they are (at a given moment). I would bet money that Tucker has a routine for Caboose to follow every morning and every night. A specific step-by-step deal: wake up, brush you teeth, try not to kill anyone while you're brushing you teeth, change from pjs into clothes, no you can't wear your pjs under your suit you'll over-heat, etc. Caboose knows it so well muscle memory does most of it for him so he doesnt get lost in remembering a step and if he does Tucker knows- Tucker is ancient. Too old to be Church's best friend- that's me. So after years together Tucker has to have developed the patience of a saint but also a method of caring for his big, slow friend who just needs a little help sometimes. and that's something Caboose will have noticed. Caboose is clumsy and breaks things. His helmet is high on the list of things he could break, and given his refusal to change helmets, it must have been very old and required maintainence for visor upgrades or seal re-fittings or what have you. Alpha!Church was terrible at most things involving hand eye coordination and at being an AI so he wouldn't have been much help, and Caboose has/had (is it still a thing?) a rivalry with Lopez so only Tucker was left as an option. and much like a parent sewing up their kid's torn stuffed animal as the kid sniffled by their side, so too did Tucker repair Caboose's helmet. Tucker tries to give advice as the self-proclaimed "love doctor"- as enbarassingly as any parent asking you "whats the haps" or "w-t-f. why the face" (dad!tucker for me is a lot like phil dunphy). Tucker's word is law. In a "while you live in my house you live by my rules" sort of way, what he says goes. Stay where its safe and dont get shot. Dont shoot me or anybody else this early in the morning. Yes, fine, we can keep the ex-Freelancer but you're walking him and cleaning any wet stains in the carpet and if i find any hairballs i swear to god. (if Freckles didn't have guns he'd've been all over that). and Caboose acts like a teen who says "i hate you" but means "i love you" instead. When Tucker nags him now its probably "take the pills Grey gave you" or "dont run around the pool" and "run AROUND the pool damn it, its on FIRE! NO NOT THE SLIDE ITS PLASTIC AND FULL OF FUMES" and "put your crayons away AND wash your hands and you'll maybe find a cookie on you plate dude" like. Tucker has clearly come to care so much for Caboose, especially in s15 i swear imma cry. Tucker has even been more consistent in his behavior than Wash. Carolina rolled on in and Wash stepped back in line with her for a while, scaring the RedsandBlues. Even separated on Chorus, Tucker was with him. Tucker was by Caboose and on his side the entire time. Tucker was reassigned to the desert and had to go. Even when Omega!Caboose was threatening him, Tucker didn't leave Blue Base. Tucker has never abandoned or left Caboose by his own volition. Tucker looks out for him physically, mentally, and emotionally. Tucker is who Caboose turns to when he wants permission for a pet, to fix the boo-boo on his helmet, and to comfort him when he's feeling low. Caboose realizes it on some deeply buried level that Tucker ISN'T his actual dad but has assumed a father-like role, and remained steadfast and loyal while in that role just by caring about Caboose. so in his head whenever he addresses him his mind goes, (Dad), but his mouth says, Tucker. Wash is Team Dad but Tucker is The Dad on the team. i have so many feelings. do my boys justice. where all the fics at? more caboose/tucker friendship and family fics for 2017 please. tucker taking care of caboose. caboose appreciating and loving tucker. please. even just brotherly-fluff. im deprived. i swear i start these intending to make a paragraph and instead write a fic outline.

[lovemesomesurveys]

What was on your mind mostly today? So far I’ve just been thinking about how I don’t feel well and stuff pertaining to survey questions.

If someone looked on your bed, what would they find? Blankets, pillows, a medium sized giraffe stuffed animal, a small Chewbacca, and a small giraffe stuffed animal that came with a little blanket that wraps around him. It’s super cute.

What’s on your schedule for tomorrow? Nothing.

Are you nice to everyone? Yes, I believe so.

Is it possible to be single and happy? Yeah.

Is it easy for people to make you cry? Sometimes it doesn’t take much at all.

Did you sleep alone last night? Yes.

Do you play with dead bugs? UH EWWWWWW NO WTF.

Honestly, are you dating two people? No... I’m not even dating one person.

Do you think things will change in the next 3 months? I would hope so.... I could really use some positive changes.

Have you ever slept in the same bed with someone other than family?  Yeah.

Do you want to see somebody right now? No.

What if you had a baby with the person you like? --

Are you happy? No.

Have you ever tripped in public? I’ve fallen in public on more than one occasion. :/

Is there anyone who doesn’t like you? I don’t know?

Have you ever sat in the back of a police car? Nope.

Are you stubborn? Yes. I can be very stubborn.

Do you tend to hold a grudge? No. I mean, I won’t forget, but I do forgive.

What’s a fact about the last person that texted you?  She’s my mom and she loves to watch the ID channel.

Has anyone called you perfect before? Hahah nooo.

Where is the biggest scar on your body? Down my back.

Have you ever been told you were amazing? Something like that. haaaa.

Would you date someone who was addicted to drugs? If I knew that beforehand, then no. If they were addicted to drugs while we were together I’d want to try and help them.

Are you trying to avoid liking somebody at the moment? No.

Do you trust all your friends? Sigh.

If you could go back and change something in the past 5 months, would you? Yes.

What pissed you off today? Nothing so far.

What was the last thing you cried about? Frustrations and I wasn’t feeling well. That can intensify things.

Who was the last girl you talked to? My mom.

Do you know anyone who drinks a lot? No.

Who sits next to you in English? I’m no longer in school.

Ever talked to someone who was drunk? Yeah.

Have you heard a song that reminds you of someone today? I haven’t listened to any music so far today.

How late did you stay up last night and why? Until around 230 or so. I’m always up late.

Do you know how to properly use grammar in a sentence?  Yes.

Are your parents very protective of you? I mean, they’re both protective because they care and want the best for me, but my dad can be a little over protective at times.

Will you be in a relationship in the next couple months? I don’t see that happening at all.

How many drugs are in your system?  None.

The person who hurt you the most calls and needs you, do you go? I wouldn’t be able to go, I’d have no way of getting there. I wouldn’t be the one he’d call, anyway.

Is it easy to pretend everything’s okay for you? I used to be a lot better at it. I slipped these past couple of years. Things took a bad turn, and I just wasn’t so good at hiding it anymore.

Are you afraid of losing the last person you talked to on the phone? Yes.

Do you think you are a good person? I don’t know. I mean, I try to be. I feel like I used to be. I don’t wish anything bad on anyone and I don’t want to hurt anyone. I care about others and their well being. I just feel like I’ve been so selfish these past couple years, and in turn I have hurt people. :/

What do you want right this second? To not feel like crap would be great.

Do you think it makes him weak if a guy cries? Absolutely not. Why are guys not allowed to have emotions and express those emotions? Can they not be sad, too? They’re human.

Have you ever cried cause you were so mad? Oh yes.

Could you last in a relationship for over a year?  I think so.

Who were you with on your birthday? I haven’t had my birthday yet this year, but last year I was with my family.

Have you ever crawled through a window? No.

First person to talk to you in 2014? I don’t know.

Do you miss your past? Yes. Well, parts of it.

It’s 4 in the morning, your phone rings, who is it? I have no idea.

Do you have anything interesting planned for the next week? Nope.

Who was the last person to text you? Do you know when that person’s birthday is? My mom. Her birthday is in September.

What were you doing 4 hours ago? I was lying down and resting. I was dozing off here and there.

Is there a certain song that you can’t stop listening to atm? No.

Tell me 3 things that your friends don’t know about you. I don’t feel like it.

What is something that people often give to you as a gift? Gift cards.

Do you tend to hold on to a lot of stuff you don’t need, just because it has sentimental value? Ohhh yes.

What is something that reminds you of your ex? Certain songs. For example, “Lithium” by Nirvana.

Has the last person you kissed ever cried in your arms? No.

Which would you prefer to receive as a gift - flowers or chocolate? Donuts or coffee, actually. haha. Or donuts and coffee.

When did you last take a shower/bath? Do you wash your hair every time? Last night. No, I don’t.

Would you prefer to be somewhere else right now? No, it’s 1AM.

Do any of your followers on Tumblr have your phone number? Nope.

Will you be going out tonight, or staying in? I’ll be staying in.

How many times have you been in love? Twice.

If you were heartbroken, who would help you pick up the pieces? I’d just deal with it alone.

Apparently, it’s very common to crave chocolate around the ‘time of the month’; do you ever get that craving? Not chocolate, specifically, but sweets.

What was your last reason for crying? I answered this already. Was that not this survey? Maybe it was the previous one, but whatever.

How would you feel about dating someone who had a reputation for being a player in the past? Do you think that players will ALWAYS be players, or is it possible that they can change? I think they can definitely change, mature, and grow up, but I would be skeptical. I’d have to see that change.

Did you sleep well last night? No.

Is your bedroom big enough for you? It could be a little bigger.

Are you looking forward to seeing someone soon? No.

Ever had a one-night stand? Nope.

Is anyone flirting with you? No.

Have you ever felt pressure to do anything you didn’t want to, like smoking, drinking, or losing your virginity, before you were ready for it? If so, how did you deal with that? No.

Do you consider yourself to be an intelligent person? Why/why not? Meh. I feel like I’m average, just like with everything else. I’m an average person.

Who would you most like to be stuck in a lift with? I’d like to not be stuck in an elevator at all, thank you. I am very claustrophobic and would be having a panic attack. That would be horrible. I have to take elevators, and it’s something I think about.

Is there anyone you’d HATE to be stuck in a lift with? Like I said, I don’t want to be stuck in an elevator--period. It wouldn’t matter who I was with.

When did you last talk to the person you love/like? What did you talk about? --

Have you ever seen your father cry? Yes, but only less than a handful of times. Most recently was when our dog passed away. :(

How would your parents react if you got pregnant? They’d be absolutely shocked to say the least. They’d want to know who the father was. They’d be surprised because I’m always home, and when I do leave it’s with them. I’m not talking to anyone in that way. They’d be so like, “wtf???” haha.

Do you/did you keep to your school’s uniform/dress code? I’ve never had to wear a school uniform, but yes I followed the dress code. I was too self-conscious to wear spaghetti straps, skirts, dresses, or shorts anyway. And I didn’t wear anything with something bad on it.

If the last person you kissed said you were the only one they wanted, would you believe them? Nopeeee. That would be a downright lie. They’d act like it in the moment, but then I’d hear he was talking to/sleeping with other girls. One of which was his ex girlfriend. So.

What was the highlight of your summer? It hasn’t been summer, yet. I don’t look forward to it, though.

The last time you threw up, was it because you were hungover? No.

Have you ever seen the film ‘Wake Wood’? What did you think of it? Nope. I’ve never even heard of it.

Are you confused about anything atm? Is there anything bothering you? Or, is everything good? Yes. A lot of things are bothering me.

If you say ‘I’ve had enough’ or ‘I’m done’, do you always mean it? I mean, I say I’ve had enough or that I’m done all the time in regards to things that I’m dealing with, but I keep on going....

Who was the last person that invited you to their house? Arynthya.

Have your parents ever told you about any alternative names they considered for you, or the name they would have chosen, if you’d turned out to be a boy? My mom said she thought about Jesse for a boy.

Are you friends with any of your exes? No.

Have you ever had to make an emergency phone call? No.

If you’re in a relationship, how is it going? If you’re single, are you looking for someone? No, I’m not looking for someone.

What language do you like the sound of? Hmmm.

Think about the last guy, outside of family, that you had a conversation with. Do you find him sexy? Ha, it was someone who worked at the vitamin store I went to last weekend. lol. No, he wasn’t really my type. He seemed like a cool guy, though.

What do you think is an assumption that someone could make about you, just by looking at your Tumblr? Would this assumption be correct? That I’m depressed and have other issues. Oh, and that I love Alexander Skarsgård. They’d be absolutely, 100% correct about all of it.

What’s the most attractive physical feature of the person you love/like? Okay I’ll answer questions like this about Alexander Skarsgård from now. Duhhh, why didn’t I always do that? He’s absolutely gorgeous. I love his jaw, his next, his eyes, his hands, his stomach, his smile, his height.... everything.

Do you consider yourself to be a strong person? Why/why not? I feel like I used to be. Now I feel weak. I don’t know who this person is anymore.

Tell me about a special moment you’ve had with the person you love/like. Sadly, we haven’t had any moments together. haha. Only in my dreams... ;)

What are you doing tomorrow? Nothing.

[secretlystephaniebrown]

A Fraction of Your Smile

Donut Siblings return! Even more specifically, General Martha makes her return! 

Martha got an alien sword for like five seconds in Here Comes the General, and as we all know, those have a tendency to result in alien babies. So when @goodluckdetective asked for one of the sisters and a baby, I saw my chance and took it. (For the Charlie verse fans, don’t worry; Locus still manages to get Charlie somehow. I would not deny the world Charlie.) 

Prompts are still open!

Pairings: Gen, implied Tuckington

Warnings: Non-consensual pregnancy. 

Ao3

Martha has long since given up on being able to predict the course of her life. She joins the army after her brother dies, only for her brother to show up nearly a decade later, alive, well, and using a different name. She spends her whole life looking up to him, only to find out he let them all think he was dead for years, and that he shot her little brother. She thinks she’s fighting a war for the right reasons, but it’s all a joke. She thinks she’s just a grunt in the army, but she ends up a general.

She thinks she’ll get to go home, when the war is done, but there’s the awful truth of politics. She can’t leave Kimball alone to deal with all of this.

She thinks she’ll die in Armonia, in the heart of a nuclear explosion, but Carolina is close by with her speed boost and drags her out just in time, barely making it to the Pelican before the words “too late” can pass her lips, but not before apologies and requests to Wash make themselves known.

Things are… awkward. Wash doesn’t know how to handle this, her nearly dying, her forgiveness, and neither does she. So, she decides to do the mature thing and ignore it in favor of yelling at the UNSC about being a bunch of fuckwads and arguing with Kimball over supplies.

It’s during one of those meetings where Martha realizes that there is, apparently, a side effect of that alien sword she’s taken to carrying at her side just to remind everyone she can stab them whenever she feels like it.

The entire group is gathered together. Doyle is arguing with Kimball about resettlement—Martha doesn’t know Chorus well enough to deal with this sort of things, so it’s Doyle’s job. She’s a soldier. She’s not from Chorus. She doesn’t know these things, as Kimball loves to point out. Martha understands, vaguely, that Kimball resents that an outsider has so much power, and it makes sense, it does, Martha’s only qualification is that she was the last woman standing. She’s the survivor. She has an alien sword that ties her to this planet and powerful friends and she’s a terrible leader.

Kimball should be the one in charge and they both know it, but until elections can be arranged, Kimball’s stuck with her. And elections have to wait for a while still.

Martha clears her throat and stands up. “As much as it pains me to be the voice of reason,” she says. “Drop it, you two. We’ll take it up again later. Colonel Sarge, you said you had word of that pirate contingent in the—”

Suddenly Martha sways on her feet, knees buckling, and she clutches the table, but it’s too late, all eyes are on her, and there’s concern on their faces.

“Martha!” Grey is there, placing a hand on her forehead. “What did you eat?”

“Damn it,” Martha mutters. “I thought we were done with assassination attempts.” She doubles over again as a wave of nausea overtakes her, and this time she’s not fast enough, and she vomits.

Simmons shrieks, but Donut is at her other side right away.

Caboose, however, looks at it curiously. “Miss General! I did not realize Junior was coming for a visit!”

“What?” Martha manages. “What the fuck Caboose?”

“Oh hey,” Epsilon says, hovering above it. “It kind of does look… look like Tucker’s…”

“Oh fuck.” Grif says suddenly. “Are you saying Martha’s pregnant too? We already dealt with that once!”

“What do you mean,” Martha says, her voice deceptively mild as she struggles to find her footing, “pregnant?”

Halfway across the room, heads swivel towards Tucker.

“Oh shit,” Tucker says.

Martha turns towards him. “Captain Tucker, if you think this is going to be a good time to make a “who’s the father” joke, you are sorely mistaken.”

“No, not that! Uh. It’s just. I think I know what happened.”

Grey frowns. “Oh?”

“The sword. It, uh. It knocked me up when I first got it. It’s how I got Junior.”

Martha glances at the sword at her hip. “… I’m pregnant with an alien?”

“Oh my,” Grey says faintly. “Martha I think I need to run some tests.” She pauses. “Tucker, how long did your pregnancy last?”

“Not… very… long…” Tucker says, just as Martha went white as a sheet and clutched at her stomach and lets out a blood curdling shriek that proves once and for all that she is related to Wash and Donut.

“From recovering the sword…” Doc says thoughtfully. “Yes, the timing is about right!” Then his voice changes. “Just in time for the little parasite to burst its way out of her abdomen! Mwahahaha!”

“Just tell me this thing isn’t really a chest-burster,” Martha groans.

“I had to have a C-section, so I’d be lying,” Tucker admits.

“I’m going to kill every last one of you for not warning me about this,” Martha snarls. All the Reds and Blues take a step back.

Grey pats Martha on the back. “Let’s get you somewhere private so I can run some tests. And possibly perform surgery!”

“I can’t be giving birth already, I literally just found out! What kind of parasite am I giving birth to?” Martha feels panic bubbling in her chest, because this is wrong, she can’t be pregnant, she can’t be—this can’t be real, it has to be a trick or a joke or something. She doesn’t even speak Sanghelli anymore, she’s forgotten whatever she knew, she can’t…

Martha lets Grey lead her away, leaning on her heavily. “This isn’t possible,” she whispers.

Grey pats her arm. “I know sweetie! But just think of how exciting it is! And at least it’s not another assassination attempt!”

Martha lets out another cry as a wave of pain rips through her. “We need—I don’t know how long—”

“Don’t you worry about a thing!” Grey pats her cheek as she pushes Martha into a hospital bed. “You’re not about to die on me!”

“Thanks Emily,” Martha mutters, screwing her eyes shut as Grey starts to scan her. “For the love of fuck!’ She screams again.

Wash has, theoretically, known that Tucker ended up impregnated with an alien embryo when he got the sword, but he had never made that connection to his sister.

The meeting has thoroughly derailed after that horrifying discovery, with everyone swapping stories about Junior, and Wash and Donut just staring at each other, trying to comprehend what’s happening.

He can’t… he can’t lose Martha again, he nearly lost her at Armonia. Her would have been last words seem to be continuously echo in his mind. “Give them hell, David.”

They haven’t talked about it—Wash had assumed they’d have time, and things had been so busy with reconstruction and rounding up the left over pirates…

“Hey,” Tucker says quietly to him. “Grey’s not about to let anything happen to her. Plus, if I could survive it with Doc, she’ll be fine.”

Wash swallows. “I—you’re right. Thanks.”

Tucker bumps his shoulder against his. “Dude, calm down. It’s Martha. She’s like, indestructible. Actually, I’m pretty sure that’s your whole family.”

Wash opens his mouth to contradict him, but then he considers all the things he, Donut, and Martha have survived just in the past few months, and he closes it again.

Grey comes back. “Well, it looks like her body has… adjusted to having an alien in it,” she declares cheerfully. “I really need to read-up on my xeno-biology! Private Donut, Agent Washington, she’s asked for you.”

Wash barely takes time to be relieved she’ll admit he’s her brother before he and Donut both take off towards the infirmary.

“No C-Section?” Wash asks when he sees Martha. She’s pale and in a hospital gown instead of her armor now, the bulge that is apparently the future alien baby now visible, and she still manages to look murderous despite being soaked in sweat.

“Apparently not needed,” Martha groans. “Fucking—alien—chest—burster!”

“Junior’s great, Martha!” Donut takes one of her hands and squeezes it tightly. “I’m sure our little nephew will be adorable!”

“Like hell I’m having a boy, I’m already dealing with you two,” Martha snaps. “I do not need another Fillmore boy’s capacity for drama!”

“You’re going to keep it?” Wash asks. He doesn’t move closer, remembering Martha’s fury the last time she’d been in the hospital.

“Oh for fuck’s sake stop hovering and grab my fucking hand.”

Wash sits down and does exactly that.

All things considered, the birth is quick, painless, and loud. But soon enough the others are all crowded around Martha’s hospital bed, eager to see the newest addition to Chorus.

Wash glances at the small alien sitting on Martha’s lap.

“What are you going to name…” Tucker squints. “Her? Him? I honestly can’t tell.”

“I’m calling it them until it’s old enough to make up its mind, cuz no one on this planet understands alien gender,” Martha says, patting them on the head, which causes the alien to let out a cooing honk. “And their name is David.”

Wash goes completely still, but not before he catches Donut hiding a smile behind his hand.

“David? Weird name,” Grif comments.

“Named after my dead older brother,” Martha continues.

“Martha!” Wash yells, having finally recovered enough from his initial shock.

“My poor, dead oldest brother. I miss him dearly. I’m so honored to name my first and only child after him—”

“Why are you like this.”

“I wish he could be here to see this moment…”

“I was literally holding your hand while they were born.”

“And weren’t a dirty rotten liar who lets me think he’s dead for years.”

“Your name is David?” Tucker asks Wash.

“I hate all of you.”

“Don’t you think that will get confusing?” Simmons asks. “If you’ve named them after Wash?”

“I figure I’ll call them Day,” Martha says, before she shifts Day on her lap. “I guess it’s time we figure out what you eat, huh you little fucker?”

“Don’t call your kid that!” Simmons shrieks.

“Fine. Who’s Mama’s good little parasite?” She tickles them under the chin, and it lets out another delighted honk.

“Oh my god who let her become a parent,” Wash says, his dawning horror doubtlessly showing on his face, judging Martha’s smirk.

“Oh, you haven’t fed them yet?” Tucker says. “Caboose, get over here.”

“What, am I feeding them Caboose?” Martha says, skeptically.

“Only a little.”

“Oh god you’re serious,” Martha’s clearly alarmed at that, and Wash has to agree.

“Tucker! We’re not feeding them Caboose!”

“They drink blood!” Doc says. “The blood of your enemies!”

Martha and Grey meet eyes.

“Bag of blood and a very sturdy piece of rubber for a bottle?” Martha asks hopefully.

“I’ll see what we can find,” Grey says, patting Martha’s hand and taking off.

Grey returns soon after, and Martha and Day begin a complicated negotiation about proper feeding.

“I’m going to need a goddamn dictionary,” Martha finally says when Day is clutching to her hair, determinedly drinking from the sippie cup Grey had procured from god-knows-where.  “My Sanghelli is rusty.”

“Your accent’s pretty good,” Tucker says. “I can tell that much.”

Martha pauses, considering. “If the sword got me pregnant… does that make Santa Day’s grandpa?”

Wash rolls his eyes. “Martha.”

“It’s an honest question!”

Most of the others have cleared out by now, but Tucker’s staying.

“You mind if I hold them?” Tucker asks. “It’s weird; Junior grew up so quickly. I kinda miss it.”

“If you can get them out of my curls, feel free,” Martha says.

Tucker carefully reaches up and holds out his hands to Day. Day pauses, considering, before untangling themselves out of Martha’s hair and jumping to Tucker. Tucker lets out a huff of air as Day nearly knocks him over, but he adjusts quickly. “Pretty cute, aren’t they?” Tucker asks, grinning.

“I guess,” Martha says. “But I think that might be those weird motherly chemicals.”

“Oh no!” Grey assures her. “The pregnancy was too quick for those to be manufactured properly!”

Martha squints. “Huh. Neat.”

“If you need help, just let me know,” Tucker says. “Us alien single-parents need to stick together.”

Martha looks at him. “Captain Tucker, you’ve made it pretty damn clear you think I’m a tyrannical bitch.”

“Yeah, but you can’t be all that bad,” Tucker says reasonably. “Plus, can you imagine going to Wash for help with a baby?”

“Your point is made. Now hand over my alien spawn. I need to make sure it knows all of the important lessons in life.”

“Martha,” Wash says warningly. “You can’t teach them to bite people you don’t like on command.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Martha says with a sigh. “The only person I would want to do that to is Locus. And Day can’t eat Locus. They might pick up genocidal tendencies.”

Wash keeps looking at her.

“I’m going to teach them to swear in six languages so I can take them to meetings with the UNSC.”

“How,” Wash says slowly. “Are you running an army?”

“Low-level immortality?” Martha shoves Day into his arms. “Stop complaining and hold your nibling.”

Wash stares at Day. Day stares back.

“Hi?” Wash tries. Day sighs and sits down in his lap, still drinking the cup full of blood. “Honk!”

Donut is sniffling in the background. Wash sighs, and pets Day on the head.

“Well,” he says dryly. “At least things won’t be boring.”

“I doubt we were ever in much danger of that,” Martha says. “Now, I just shoved an alien baby out of unspeakable places. So I’m going to nap. Shoo.”