#your dying company is only going to get worse after this

[crescenthistory]

You and I, We’ve Grown Comfortable Here

Pairing: Lee x Reader

Summary: Two outcasts with nowhere to go decides to go nowhere together. In each other they find shelter, acceptance, intrigue and a bond neither expected to go as deep as it does.

Words: 13.6k

Warnings: not proofread, basically five fics in one (a year of their relationship developing), assault, hints at sexual assault, implied attempted rape, death, murder, cannibalism (bones&all hello), make-out sessions, blood, implied smut(?), panic attacks, implied abusive parents, kicked out of home, living in a car, crying, angst, slow burn, cannibals in love, hurt/much comfort, happy ending, lee's truck being a character in and of itself

A/N: i am so unwell, i wrote this whole thing in the span of ONE day. this man makes me unwell. anyway, if i ever write any other fics or drabbles for lee, unless otherwise specified, presume it is based on this background because i am obsessed with these two.

***

When you saw the headlights, your heart caught in your throat just a little. It was late, too late to be out walking down a relatively abandoned countryroad, too late to even be awake. With only the stars for company, you were dragging your feet as you were walking in the hopes of hitting a camping site soon. You had heard good rumours of one not far away from the town you are putting in your rearview mirror. Metaphorically of course, with no driving liscense or car, all you had to get from one place to another were your shoes and your bravery.

It had been a couple of months since you left home. Whenever you had the opportunity to sleep, you could still hear the shouting and the slamming of doors when your father finally threw you out for good. The home in question had never felt safe for you anyway, you had never fit into the small town cookie cutter they tried to press you into, even when it drew blood.

After all that, you might be best off alone you concluded, and have stuck to that as you made your way through the US. There was nowhere in particular you wanted to go, you just did not want to be tied down anywhere. You wanted to see, explore and feel.

You had been dabbling in hitchhiking over the months, always sending a silent prayer to gods you did not believe in before getting into the strange cars. With a knife always in the pocket of your hoodie, you felt relatively secure that you could defend yourself if worse comes to worse. Yet you knew you can never truly know. You tried to keep your head on you still.

There had not been any cars on the road you were currently occupying for the past two hours. It had, for a glorious moment, felt like yours. Just you and the pavement and the night. So, when the headlights lit you up for behind, you grew a bit weary. Part of you wanted to jump in it, unsure of how long you had left until the campsite, tired to the bone, but you knew you shouldn’t at this hour.

But you were also so incredibly tired.

The rumble of the engine neared closer and the driver dimmed the headlights. On your left, the car drove into view, an old beat up truck, and it was slowing down to stop beside you. Leaning over the passenger seat, a young man peered out through the rolled down window, a messy head of freshly dyed hair shining like a beacon in the dark. He watched you with a face torn between curios and cautious.

“You good?” he called out, trying to be heard over the noise of his car.

You didn’t answer right away. Instinct told you to keep walking, to keep your head down and stay invisible like you’d been doing all night. But something about him made you stop.

You squinted through the light. “What do you think?”

He let out a breathy laugh, the kind that was more habit than humor. "Yeah, didn’t think so." His voice was rough, not unfriendly, but sharp around the edges. He glanced down the empty road and then back at you. "Need a ride or something?"

Every ride so far had been a risk, a quiet leap of faith, and it wasn’t like you had a good track record with trusting people. Your parents had made sure of that, kicking you out like it was nothing, like you were the problem for being too loud, too you.

Still, you couldn’t keep walking forever. And there was something intriguing about this boy, out here alone in the night, just like you.

“I guess that’s where we’re at tonight,” was your response, and he nodded immediately with a halfsmile.

“Fair enough. Where you headed?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“Same,” he said, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other across the empty road. Something about him felt different — like he wasn’t just another passerby. You weren’t scared. Maybe that should’ve worried you.

He threw the passenger side door open. “You coming, or what?”

"Depends," you said, raising an eyebrow. "You a serial killer or something?"

He smirked, but there was a hint of something darker in his eyes, something guarded. "Not tonight."

"Comforting," you deadpanned, but you found yourself stepping closer to the truck anyway.

He watched you climb in with a kind of steady calm, like he was waiting for you to make the call. There wasn’t an ounce of threat in him, no leering or weird comments, just quiet, detached curiosity.

The truck smelled faintly of gasoline and something else, something metallic that made the back of your throat tighten, but you ignored it. There was a quiet ease to him, though, like he wasn’t thinking of you as prey – like he wasn’t thinking of you at all, really. He just… was. And it felt like enough.

The silence stretched between you as the truck rumbled down the road. Finally, you turned to him, curiosity itching at your thoughts.

“So, you pick up girls off the side of the road often, or am I just lucky?”

He gave you a side glance, something like amusement tugging at the corners of his lips. “Lucky’s a word for it.”

There was something raw in his eyes when he said it, a guarded edge you recognized. You didn’t push it. 

“I heard there is a campsite in the town over, I was thinking of maybe staying the night there,” you said, not wanting him to feel stuck with you in the car forever.

“The Meadows Site? Yeah, I was actually thinking of parking there for the night myself,” he said, giving you a curious glance before looking back to the road. “But it is a few more hours off.”

“Wow, I really am lucky you picked me up then.”

He snorted at that, a sound you somehow hadn’t expected to escape from him, but was amused to hear. You didn’t feel a need to chat further at the moment, and didn’t get the impression he did either. It was not uncomfortable though, the opposite actually. The atmosphere in his truck was comforting, to the point where you would almost fall asleep, though you really should not. Still, there was one thing left to ask.

“What’s your name, kind stranger?” you quipped, teasing tone evident in your voice. He smiled fully then, relaxing more into his seat.

“Lee. And yours, lucky girl?”

You told him your name and settled back into your seat yourself, watching the stars blur into the dark as the truck carried you further and further from everything you’d ever known.

***

It turned out you both had nowhere to go. No one waiting for you at the end of the line. No real reason for him to drive off without you the morning after your night spent in Meadows Site. He had borrowed you a blanket to lay on, thicker than the one you had been surviving on for a while now. After eating breakfast at a shop nearby that he showed you, clearly more familiar in the area than you, it just made sense to get back into the truck with him. That’s how you both rationalised it, as your eyes sparked with interest and entertainment whenever they met. Just made sense.

From that day, Lee’s truck became the closest you had had to a home in months. Maybe even years.

The miles between you and the world grew, but so did the distance between you and the versions of yourselves you left behind. You had nothing to offer each other apart from company, and nothing to lose from spending your days with one another. 

It became easy, almost too easy. Long stretches of road, music humming through the truck's radio, filling the space between the two of you. Conversations about nothing that meant everything — favorite songs, old memories that still hurt, silly stories from childhood, tragedies that were so massive it became intrinsically hilarious to you both, Stories you told in the dead of night when the world felt softer, more forgiving. 

Lee felt true in a way no other had. His company was comfortable, natural. A genuine friend that you could tease, maybe even flirt with a little when the mood struck. Nothing serious you would say. All in good fun, teenagers cruising through the Midwestern countryside.

It felt like forever, though it had only been a few weeks. The truck was a much better bed than the thin blanket you had relied on since you left the house you grew up in. You’d sleep in the backseat, sometimes curled up in the trunk with blankets piled up like a nest. On rare occasions, when exhaustion weighed you both down, you’d spring for a cheap motel, a temporary reprieve from the road.

The more you got to know Lee, the more that sense you had gotten about him on the night you met grew. Something was different about him, something you could taste on your tongue, a kind of unspoken understanding that simmered beneath the surface. You couldn’t explain it, not exactly, but there was something in Lee that reminded you of someone else. It wasn’t just the way he moved or the sharp look in his eyes – it was the way he held himself, the way he watched people, sizing them up like he knew more about them than they’d ever want to know.

You had known someone like that before.

Your uncle.

Your family never talked about him, not after he disappeared, but you remembered the day it happened like a movie in your mind. The last time you saw him. He had come to visit, just passing through, or so he said. You were young, but not young enough to forget the blood that stained his clothes, how his face was drawn, pale, like he was barely holding it together. How his teeth were off-white in a way you had never seen before. He had brushed it off when you asked him, saying he had gotten into a fight, nothing serious, but the way he smelled… it stuck with you.

The metallic tang of blood, the way it clung to him even after he cleaned up, how his eyes seemed wild and unfocused in the dim light of the kitchen. You could never explain it to someone without sounding insane. But yet somehow, you knew what he was. You knew.

Your parents didn’t say much about it then. They just watched him with wary eyes, their faces tight with something close to fear, though they never admitted it. When he left, they didn’t even look at that, and once he was gone they removed all photographs. They never mention him again, not even when you asked. It was like he had never existed. Like he had never even been part of the family.

You never met someone like him again, someone you could feel deep in your bones.

Until Lee. The Lee you looked at as he drove nonchalantly down roads, almost too relaxed to be sitting in a driver’s seat. He made all those pieces you had tucked away begin to slot together, forming a picture that put words to your instincts. The way your uncle had looked that night, the way your own body sometimes seemed to hum with something restless, it was all there, just waiting for you to acknowledge it.

You did not bring it up to him, it never seemed natural. And honestly, you didn’t feel the need to. For some reason, the idea of it all didn’t bother you. Lee was just Lee still, your road companion.

One night, you and Lee had parked the truck somewhere far off the main road, the stars stretched out like a tapestry above you. It was late, the kind of late where the world felt quieter, where the darkness seemed deeper, more honest. You were lying on a blanket in the bed of the truck, side by side, the silence between you comfortable but heavy, like something was waiting to be said.

The two of you had shared a lot already, more than you thought you had in you to share. He was still technically a strange man to you, it had not yet been a month. Still, you felt a bond with him you could not explain. His presence brought you peace in a world too large for you to grasp.

You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, the way his fingers twitched restlessly by his side, like he was working through something in his head. Lee had been quieter than usual lately, more thoughtful, more distant. You didn’t push him – he was always like that, a little withdrawn when he was trying to sort through whatever was going on in his head. But tonight, it felt different. More pointed.

Finally, he broke the silence.

"Do you… know?"

The question caught you off guard. It was so vague, so quiet, that for a second, you weren’t sure if you had heard him right. You turned your head to look at him, but his eyes were still fixed on the stars above, his expression unreadable in the dim light. There was something in his tone, though. Cautious, like he wasn’t sure how you would answer. Like he was afraid to hear it.

You swallowed, your heart picking up speed. "Know what?"

His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he shifted slightly, still not looking at you. It seemed like he had hoped you would not ask. He was always careful, always measured with his words, but this time, you could tell he was holding something back. He exhaled slowly, and then, without turning his head, he said it again, this time more direct.

"About me. About what I am."

There was no uncertainty in you about what he was referring to. There it was, the thing you had been skirting around, the thing neither of you had spoken aloud. You knew, deep down, that this conversation had been coming for a while, with all the time you spent together, but now that it was here, the weight of it felt like a stone settling in your chest.

Your mind raced, memories of your uncle flashing through your thoughts, the blood on his hands, the way your parents had never spoken about him again. The way it all lingered in you like electricity. 

You nodded slowly, your voice quiet. "Yeah. I know."

Lee didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a moment, but you could feel the tension radiating off him, the way his body seemed to coil like a spring, ready to snap. His fingers drummed lightly against the truck bed, a habit he had when he was nervous, though he’d never admit it. 

You wondered how he knew to ask you, if he had seen it in your eyes. You guessed you could ask him. But this moment hung in the air between you with such fragility. It felt like something had shifted irreversibly between you, and you were not yet certain if it was a good thing or not.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, strained. "And you… don’t care? Or what? You don’t wanna leave?"

You turned to him fully, propping yourself up on your elbow to get a better look at his face. The starlight cast shadows over his sharp features, but his eyes—his eyes were clear, burning with something raw, something vulnerable he never let anyone else see. They were straining to remain trained on the sky.

"I’m not scared of you, Lee," you said softly, your voice steady but firm. "Or of it. I know who you are. And I know you’re a good person."

Lee’s breath hitched, just for a moment, barely noticeable, but you caught it. His eyes finally flickered toward you, the walls he kept up so carefully starting to crack. He looked like he wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come. He just stared at you, a thousand thoughts racing behind his eyes, none of them quite making it out.

He swallowed hard, his voice dropping even lower when he finally spoke. "You don’t even know what I’ve done."

"I don’t need to," you said, your gaze locked on his. "I know you. I’ve been with you this long, and I think I have known all along. And I’m still here."

He stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed like he couldn’t believe what you were saying, like he was waiting for you to change your mind. But when you didn’t, when you just kept looking at him like none of it scared you, like you weren’t about to run, something in him seemed to shift. The tension in his shoulders eased, just a little, and he let out a slow, shaky breath.

"Why are you not afraid?" he asked, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

You shook your head, almost wanting to laugh. “You’re just Lee to me.”

Lee looked away again, his eyes tracing the stars, but his mind was far from the night sky. The silence stretched between you once more, but this time, it wasn’t heavy with tension. It felt lighter. Like a weight had been lifted, even if he wasn’t ready to say it yet.

You settled back in beside him, arm grazing his. Comfortable. 

For the first time in a long while, Lee let himself relax. He was always aloof, physically all over the place, but his mind remained alert. Now, he let it fall onto the pillow your words provided. He realized then, though he didn’t say it out loud, that the tightness in his chest, the thing he had been fighting for weeks, it wasn’t just nothing. He didn’t want to think the word, let alone say it. It had crept in slowly, so quietly that he hadn’t noticed it until it was staring him in the face. 

Love didn’t feel safe to him. Love was complicated, messy. Dangerous, even. And yet, here you were, sitting beside him, telling him you weren’t afraid, telling him you knew who he was and that it didn’t matter. That you’d stay.

It was a feeling he didn’t know how to name. Not yet.

He turned back to you, his eyes softer now, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You’re really not gonna leave, huh?"

You laughed a little at how he shared it like a revelation, shaking your head. "Nope. You’re stuck with me."

Lee let out a breathy laugh, a sound that seemed to ease the last bit of tension between you. He looked at you, really looked at you, and for the first time since he met you, he felt something close to hope. He didn’t say it, but in that moment, he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep you by his side.

"I could get used to that," he murmured, his voice quiet but sincere.

And as the two of you sat there, side by side under the stars, the unspoken understanding between you deepened, solidified. You weren’t leaving. You weren’t afraid. And for Lee, that was enough.

You fell asleep side by side, just you and the stars.

***

Nights passed like that, over weeks and months, with you and him slowly gravitating closer. 

Whether it be in the seats of the truck or the trunk, you always slept near each other. Originally you slept on either side of the trunk, or in each your seat, but as you spent most of your nights talking until either one of you passed out, it just felt natural to be close by.

Waking up with your limbs accidentally having gotten entangled, faces closer than you ever would be when conscious became a norm. The first time it happened, Lee woke first, but did not move until you woke, revelling in the touch of your body against his. Eyes studying your calm face, fully convinced this would be his only opportunity to be this close to you. When you came to, he pretended your movements woke him.

Neither of you spoke of it. There was no need to. Some things didn’t need words.

The more you got used to waking up entangled, the more intimate it became. You would find yourself laying on top of Lee’s chest, or his face would be tucked into the crook of your neck. Once this started happening, you both happened to begin to prefer sleeping in the trunk.

Despite your increasing comfort with each other, the nights were never completely peaceful. Sometimes you would wake up to find him gone, wandering somewhere. It was usually in the aftermath of a nightmare, but you also knew that he sometimes had other reasons for being gone.

You woke up in the middle of the night, the truck’s trunk feeling too empty, too cold. Instinctively, your hand reached over the space where Lee usually lay beside you, but all you felt was the crumpled fabric of his jacket. He wasn’t there. For a few seconds, you blinked in the darkness, groggy, your mind slow to catch up with the situation. The air felt wrong, too still, too quiet. That was when you noticed the faint sounds of movement just beyond the trees, down near the creek.

When possible, you two tried to park near a body of water, so you had the opportunity to wash up. You had also mentioned to Lee how relaxing you found lakes, and he started planning his routes around it after that.

You could hear heavy breathing and splashing by the water. Without thinking, you slipped out of the trunk, pulling on one of Lee’s hoodies he had discarded beside your blankets, and you quietly padded down toward the sounds. The moon hung low over the horizon, casting long shadows across the water, and that was when you saw him.

Lee was crouched near the edge of the creek, his shoulders tense, his hands dipped in the water. The pale light from the moon caught on his skin, but more than that, it illuminated the dark smudges smeared across his neck and arms. Blood.

He had not heard you yet, too focused on what he was doing – trying to scrub the blood away with frantic, almost desperate movements. He was shaking, his body too tense, like he was on the verge of unraveling. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, the material soaked in water and blood. His hair, usually a mess of carefully maintained chaos, stuck to his forehead in sweat-soaked strands.

For a moment, you didn’t move. You just watched him, heart aching at how broken he looked. It wasn’t like the Lee you were used to. This wasn’t the confident, quippy guy who could brush off anything with a smirk. No, this was the other side of him, the side he didn’t let you see. The one that carried all the weight of what he did, of who he was. The one that bled in more ways than just physically.

“Lee?” Your voice was soft, careful. You didn’t want to startle him, but you couldn’t just stand there, watching him like this.

He froze for a moment, his hands stilling in the water. He didn’t look up at you right away, just stared down at his own reflection rippling in the creek. “Go back to the truck,” he said, his voice rough, a little shaky. “I’m fine.”

But you could hear it. He wasn’t fine. Not even close.

A closer look at where he was sitting, you could see that he wasn’t fine physically either, his torn shirt revealing scratches across his upper body, bruises already forming along his arms in the moonlight. Whoever encountered your Lee tonight had put up a fight.

You ignored him, stepping closer, your bare feet sinking into the wet grass near the water’s edge. “You’re hurt.”

He let out a harsh breath, finally looking up at you. His face was pale, a little gaunt under the moonlight. His eyes, usually so sharp and full of something unreadable, were glassy. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, turning back to the water. “I’m just cleaning up.”

But you could see the way his hands trembled, how his movements were too rough, too quick, like he was trying to scrub the guilt away more than the blood. You stepped closer until you were beside him, crouching down at his level.

“Lee, look at me.”

He didn’t. His jaw tightened, and he kept scrubbing, the water turning pink as it mixed with the blood on his skin. 

"Lee," you said again, firmer this time, reaching out to gently touch his arm. 

He finally stopped, his hands hovering just above the surface of the water, but still wouldn’t look at you. “You weren’t supposed to see this,” he muttered, voice raw. “You weren’t supposed to—” He cut himself off, his shoulders hunching forward like he was folding into himself. “Shit.”

"What is wrong with me seeing this?" you asked quietly, your fingers tracing the outline of a bruise forming along his arm. "Why do you have to fix it yourself?"

He swallowed hard, still staring at the water. "Because you don’t need to deal with this. With me. You didn’t sign up for… any of this." His voice wavered at the edges, frustration mixing with exhaustion.

You shook your head, biting back the sting in your own chest. "You think I care about blood? About this? I knew what I was getting into, I told you so. If you’re hurt, I want to help."

He finally looked at you then, his expression flickering with something like disbelief. “You shouldn’t have to… see me like this. Like some… fuckin’ monster. No, no.”

“You’re not a monster,” you said firmly, and you didn’t waver. You tightened your grip on his forearm. You could see the bruises, the blood streaking down his neck in shapes that looked like somebody had scratched at him, put up a fight. You saw the way he clenched his jaw like he was holding everything in, trying not to crack open. You saw the way his eyes flickered with guilt, shame, like he couldn’t stand himself in that moment. The same boy that laughed with you in the car, who played jokes on strangers. Who usually tried to seem totally content with this lifestyle of his.

"Yes, I am," he whispered, his voice breaking. "You don’t… understand what it’s like. To have to do this, to –"

"I don’t have to understand everything," you cut him off, your hand sliding up to his neck, gently brushing through his damp hair. "But I know you. And I know you don’t have to do this alone. That is my choice, and I choose to be here for you."

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes closing for a brief moment like he was trying to pull himself together. But when he opened them again, you saw the vulnerability in them, the rawness that he tried so hard to keep hidden. He was struggling, fighting to keep himself together, to not fall apart in front of you.

You sat down beside him fully now, your knees brushing his, your hand still resting at the back of his neck. “Let me help.”

He hesitated, his pride fighting against the offer, but he was too tired to resist for long. Slowly, he nodded, his body slumping in defeat as he let you take over.

You helped him take of his torn t-shirt, leaving him bare to reflect the moonlight, and dipped it into the creek. The cold water soaking through the fabric as you carefully brought it back up to his skin, gently wiping away the dried blood from his face, his arms. He winced slightly when you dabbed at a few deeper cuts near his ribs, but he didn’t pull away.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," you said quietly, your eyes focused on cleaning him up. "You don’t have to be strong all the time."

Lee didn’t respond right away. He just watched you, his eyes following the way you moved, the way your touch was soft, careful. He let out a low breath, something like relief mixing with the exhaustion in his voice. “I hate that you’re seeing me like this.”

“Why?” You glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Because you’re hurt? Or because you’re human?”

He laughed roughly at that, shaking his head slightly. “I haven’t felt human in a long time.”

You paused, your hand stilling for a moment before you continued cleaning the blood from his neck. “You feel human to me.”

He went quiet again, his eyes studying you, the way you didn’t flinch, didn’t shy away from the mess of him. For a long time, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the gentle ripple of the creek as you worked, the soft splash of water as you wrung out the bloody fabric.

“He-” Lee began but his voice broke. You were patient, continuing to tend to him as he seemed to wrestle with whether to continue the sentence. Eventually: “He was a bad guy. I always try to make sure they are.”

It broke your heart to hear the pleading undertone of what he was saying. What he was trying to convey to you.

You weren’t entirely sure what the best response was, but you settled on telling him you believed him.

When you were done, you leaned back slightly, your hands resting on your thighs as you looked him over. He still had some bruises that would take time to heal, but most of the blood was gone, his skin clean again under the moonlight. None of his scratches were in need of any serious medical intervention, but you made a mental note to stop by a pharmacy in the morning regardless.

“There,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over his cheek. “Better.”

Lee stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. Then, without warning, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke. “You shouldn’t have to take care of me like this.”

You closed your eyes, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders. “I want to.”

For a long moment, he didn’t move, just stayed there, eyes closed and his forehead resting against yours. His breath slowly steadying as he let himself lean on you, just for a little while.

“Thank you,” he murmured, so soft you almost didn’t hear it.

You smiled slightly, your hand moving to the back of his neck again, gently threading your fingers through his hair. “I told you. You’re not alone.”

“Not alone,” he mumbled and wiggled his forehead against yours briefly before pulling back and getting up.

He stretched a hand out to you, ready to pull you back with him to the truck.

***

A few states had ended up in your rearview mirror since you turned that creek pink and your hearts slightly softer. The atmosphere between you had shifted yet again, growing deeper and deeper each time. There was no acknowledgement of it, but there didn’t need to be. In the unspokeness, you could grow bolder. The touches, the glances, they took up more and more space in your increasingly small truck. You would yet again wake up in each other’s arms, and it no longer felt accidental.

It was the small things, too. The way his hand would brush yours when you walked side by side, or how he let his fingers linger a moment longer when you passed him something. The way your legs would press together in the truck when you shared the cramped front seat, neither of you moving away. Sometimes, when the truck was pulled off the road and you were both leaning against it, talking under the stars, his knee would bump against yours, and instead of pulling back, he let it stay there.

It felt like you were both waiting for something. The tension was not sharp, it was warm, almost inviting. You both knew what was next, but neither of you had made the move to cross that last, thin line.

You and Lee had spent the evening like you always did—driving, talking, letting the hours slip away into easy silences and the occasional laugh. Planning where to head to next. You had decided to drive to see the silliest places you could find, asking random strangers was the weirdest tourist attraction they have heard of is. On the list is Ben and Jerry’s Flavor Graveyard, the world largest ball of paint and a nuclear waste adventure trail. The night had come over you, and you ended up parked on the outskirts of a town, the lights from them illuminating you even in the dark. The two of you sat on the hood of the truck, your legs dangling off the edge, shoulders brushing.

He was quieter tonight. You could sense it in the way his gaze kept drifting over to you, then back to the stars. His hand rested on the metal beside you, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm, like he was thinking through something he had not decided on yet. But it wasn’t the usual restlessness that seemed to rule Lee’s entire existence. This was something different. Something quieter.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder. “You’re awfully quiet for a guy who never shuts up.”

He huffed a laugh, his head tilting toward you, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Ironic, isn’t it?”

You smiled, your eyes catching the faint light of the stars reflecting in his. It was moments like this that you felt the pull most strongly – the way his face softened when he wasn’t trying to keep his guard up, the way he let you see parts of him he didn’t show anyone else. There was something magnetic about Lee when he wasn’t hiding. It made you want to keep his doors open, to take them off their hinges.

His hand shifted, almost imperceptibly, his fingers brushing against yours on the deck of the trunk. It was barely a touch, just the faintest hint of skin against skin, but you felt it like a jolt, a reminder of how close you both were. You didn’t pull away, and neither did he. 

The silence stretched between you again, thick with something unspoken. It struck you how much serenity you felt in your soul in the silences with him, even when there was something brewing in it. You could feel him beside you, the warmth of him, the way his breath had slowed, his body still as if he was waiting for something.

Your fingers twitched, brushing against his again, and this time, you didn’t hesitate. You turned your hand over, palm up, an invitation as much as it was a question. Lee glanced down at your hand, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, like he had so many times before. But instead, his fingers curled slowly around yours, his grip gentle but sure, and your breath caught in your throat.

Neither of you spoke. The understanding that had hung between you for weeks was right there, all you had to do was lean into it.

“Lee,” you whispered, not even sure what you were asking. You liked having his name in your mouth. 

He turned his body towards you at his name, shifting closer, eyes locked on yours. You could see the hesitation there, the way his brow furrowed slightly, like he was still fighting something inside himself, still holding back.

But you weren’t. Not anymore.

You leaned in, closing the space between you before you could second-guess yourself, your lips brushing his softly, testing. Just once, enough to give him an out, enough to say I’m here, if you are.

For a moment, nothing happened. Lee stayed perfectly still against you, his breath caught, his fingers tightening around yours. Then, slowly, almost tentatively, he leaned in further, his lips pressing back against yours, soft and warm. Open mouthed, lovingly.

It wasn’t rushed or desperate like you might have imagined. It was careful, deliberate, like he was letting himself feel it for the first time, like he wanted to make sure it was real. His free hand came up, brushing lightly against your jaw, his fingers tracing the edge of your face, almost as if he was afraid you might disappear if he didn’t hold on.

You deepened the kiss further, savouring his touches, the feeling of his tongue against yours. Your hand glided up to his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. Slow but steady, the tension between you finally breaking in the gentlest way possible. It was like everything that had been building between you – every touch, every glance, every unspoken word – was spilling into that moment, into the way his lips moved against yours, into the way he held you like you were the only thing to hold.

When you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. Lee’s eyes were still closed, his thumb brushing over your cheek as if grounding himself in the moment, his lips parted, trying to catch his breath.

You stayed like that for a while, it didn’t matter how long. Few things mattered, you had found. Lee did. 

When he finally opened his eyes, they were unguarded in a way you hadn’t seen before. He didn’t smile, but the look in his eyes said enough. He was here, with you, in whatever this was.

He whispered your name, a late response.

You hummed with a smile, your fingers still tangled in his shirt. No words were needed. There were none that could be said, not now, not yet. 

Lee chuckled softly, a sound that felt more like relief than anything else. He slid down from leaning against the truck, to laying on the deck, still not letting go of your hand. You followed suit, for the first time purposefully laying your body half on top of his, head resting on his chest. 

No more waiting.

There was a whole civilisation right before you, just out of reach, but for the first time in a long time, you weren’t thinking about the next destination. You were here, together, and that was all that mattered.

***

Once that barrier was breached, you and Lee found yourself stealing kisses of varying intensity more often than not. There was no label on the two of you, with your pasts you both were guarded from being the first to admit the intensity behind your actions. Yet, the need to be close was not dissipating as the days passed, if anything it only grew the more of a taste you got for each other.

One night, you found yourselves at a dive bar on the edge of some no-name town. The music thumped through the walls, too loud and too fast, but it matched the energy buzzing between you and Lee. The dim lights made everything look a little hazy, like the whole world was moving in slow motion. Lee leaned against the bar, his back to the crowd, his eyes fixed on you as you stood close to him, sipping on a cheap cider that barely tasted like anything. He hadn’t drank much tonight, which made the way he was looking at you feel even more intense.

There was something magnetic about him, the way he carried himself, the way his arm seemed to naturally find its way around your shoulders when in public, protective and possessive without being overbearing. You could feel the heat of his skin through your clothes, and you leaned into it, enjoying the comfort of his touch. 

It was late, and the air between you was only magnifying your need for him, his fingers barely touching yours on the bartop like he was daring you to pull him closer. He only moved them to order another round from the bartender, shooting you a wicked grin.

“Thoughts?” he asked you as he handed you your new drink.

“This place isn’t too bad. The guy at the bar isn’t either.” The smile you flashed him was teasing and he all but rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both alright.”

You were about to make some quip about his soft spot for dive bars when a figure caught your eye, and you tensed. A guy had sidled up to the bar a few feet away, his eyes fixed on you, too interested, too familiar. You glanced at Lee, but he was already clocking the guy, his body going still beside you, though his expression didn’t change.

The guy stumbled closer, his drink sloshing in his hand. “You two look like you’re having a good time,” he slurred, his gaze flicking between you and Lee with a smirk that made your skin crawl.

Lee’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look away from the guy. His look could draw blood, but his voice stayed calm, almost flat. “We were.”

The guy either didn’t notice your discomfort and Lee’s adverse stance, or he just didn’t care. He leaned in a little closer, still grinning like this was all a joke. “Come on, man. Just trying to talk to her.”

You didn’t have time to respond before Lee shifted, his arm moving in one fluid motion to slide around your waist, pulling you against him in a way that felt natural, like he was drawing a line in the sand. “She’s not interested,” he said, voice low and steady, but you could feel the warning beneath the surface.

The guy blinked, clearly caught off guard by Lee’s calm intensity, and he let out a nervous laugh. “Hey, man, no need to get all protective. Just having fun.”

Lee kept staring him down, his grip on you tight, steadying you as much as he was putting space between you and the guy. “Well, you’re done,” he said, still in that same measured tone, like he wasn’t giving the guy a choice in the matter. “Go back to your drink.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, backing off with a muttered, “Alright, alright. Chill.” Slunking back into the crowd, he cast a few annoyed glances over his shoulder, but lacked the bravery to follow up on his annoyance.

Lee’s body was still taut with that lingering tension, eyes scanning the room again before he finally let out a breath. He didn’t pull away from you though, his hand resting on your hip as if he needed the contact to remind himself that you were alright.

"You okay?" he asked quietly, his voice softer now as he finally looked down at you, concern flickering behind his eyes.

“Yeah,” you whispered, trying to take in what just happened and how swiftly Lee handled it. Never before have you gotten away from a situation with a creepy man so fast. 

“Are you?” you eventually asked, looking up to see his jaw still slightly clenched.

He nodded, his expression softening slightly as he glanced down to meet your eyes. "Yeah. Just don’t like guys like that."

You smiled a little, leaning into him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. "I noticed."

His lips quirked into a small grin, and it felt easy again, back to just the two of you, even in this crowded bar. "You ready to get out of here?" he asked, his voice low, his breath warm against your skin now that you stood so close.

“Think so.” You finished your drink and without another word, he took your hand, leading you out into the cool night air. 

The bar’s noise faded into the background as the two of you walked back to the truck, your fingers still intertwined with his. There was something about the way he was holding your hand that made your heart race. It was tighter than normal, his thumb brushing over your skin.

You stopped by the passenger side door and Lee immediatley closed the gap between you, pressing you gently against the side of the truck. His hands rested on your hips, it was as if he had realised he could place them there now. When his gaze met yours, his eyes flickered with something dangerous, something raw.

"You know," he murmured, his voice rough, "I will always protect you. In any situation.”

You almost didn’t know what to say. It was so simple, yet he poured so much emotion into those words, and you felt them entirely.

“I do know,” you whispered. “I have never felt safety like this before.” The last part felt like a confession more than an answer. 

Lee’s breath hitched and he laid his forehead against yours, leaning more of his body against yours, so you were flush between him and the metal of the car.

“I’ve been trying not to kiss you all night. You’ve made it difficult.” Lee looked into your eyes as he said it, searching your face for a reaction. His pupils were wide, gaze intense.

You felt a shiver run through you at his words, the heat between you burning brighter. "Then stop trying."

He didn’t need any more encouragement. His lips crashed into yours with a force that knocked the breath out of you, one hand sliding up to grip your face while the other remained held your hips tighter, closer. His kisses were always languid, open-mouthed and passionate. You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his hair and pulling at it as you kissed him back with equal intensity, your body arching against his. His mouth was warm and demanding, and when he kissed you, it felt like everything else in the world fell away.

The kiss deepened quickly, his hands moving up under your shirt, the cool air mixing with the heat of his touch. His mouth trailed down to your jaw, your neck, each kiss igniting sparks along your skin. You gasped softly, tilting your head to give him better access, your fingers travelling to dig into the skin of his back

"God," he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and breathless, like he could barely control himself.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, merging under the stars, the truck a silent witness to the way your bodies moved together, the way you couldn’t seem to get close enough. You lost track of time, lost track of everything except the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your skin. He was beginning to become your Lee.

***

Living with Lee changed you in many ways, but the most important was that for the first time in your life, you felt free. Whether it was the boy’s attitude or his attentiveness to you, or the roads that stretched for miles like ink on paper, you settled into your own body and existence. You owned yourself and your destiny in a way you didn’t think possible.

As you shared more of yourselves with each other, you realised just how repressed you had been, just how much of you had been shut off. In your newfound safety in Lee, you could open up.

Things long locked away were stirring within you. Some painful, some exciting. And some, you didn’t have the words to describe yet.

For the time being, you were on a quest to a museum of the history of cheese that an old lady at a café had been raving to you about. It was another state over, but this sweet woman insisted it was worth it, and as you were the ones who asked her about a recommendation, you felt it only right to trust her word.

On the way there, you were stopping in a typical shittown, the kind where nothing really happens but somehow everyone knows everyone else’s business. Craving excitement after a long day in the car with your feet in Lee’s lap, you asked him to go looking through town for something to do. There was a bonfire party that night, something thrown together by a group of locals, and you figured that would do.

 The fire crackled in the center of the gathering in the middle of the forest, the air heavy with smoke and alcohol. Lee’s arm was slung loosely around your shoulders as you walked through, scouting the place.

"You wanna stay long?" he asked, voice low in your ear.

You shook your head, leaning into him a little. "Nah. Let’s just see how it goes."

He nodded, but you could feel the tension in him, like he was always keeping one eye on the crowd. That protective streak ran deep in him, and you couldn’t help but wonder where it came from.

The two of you settled down on a log by the fire, chatting with some locals and getting your kick out of listening to them drawl away about town drama. A man had been circling where you were sat, both you and Lee noticed, but he never approached.

Needing to get some water from the truck, you squeezed Lee’s leg and told him you’d be right back.

He let his arm fall from around you to let you up, but looked at you with concern. “Don’t be long.” You just smiled. He watched you go, his eyes lingering on you longer than you realized.

You were walking back with water in hand, still on the outskirts of the bonfire and shielded from view when you saw the man coming up towards you. He looked the exact same as every man who had been a bother to you since you began life on your own and your stomach soured.

"Hey," the guy’s voice was a slurred mix of alcohol and bravado, his grin too wide, too familiar. "Why’d you leave your pretty boy toy behind? Done with him and ready for me?"

Your skin prickled with unease, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I’m good. You should head back.”

He ignored you, stepping closer. "Come on, don’t be like that. We’re vibing, right?"

He reached for you, his hand brushing your arm, and you jerked back instinctively. “Don’t touch me.”

The grin on his face faltered, replaced with something darker. “You’re just playing hard to get,” he muttered, his voice low and threatening now. "Girls like you always do."

“Back off!” you tried, but he took quick steps toward you.

Your heart raced, and before you could step away, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist with bruising force. You twisted, trying to wrench yourself free, but he was stronger than he looked. His other hand moved to his pocket, and when he pulled out the glint of a blade, panic surged through you.

"Stop –"

"You’re not going anywhere –"

What happened next was a blur—a clash of instincts, fear driving your body into overdrive. He lifted the knife towards your throat, likely to threathen and not harm in the moment, but you could not wait to see how that would turn out. Your body moved before your mind could catch up, your hands lashed out, grabbing his wrist with one and prying the knife away with another. Suddenly the blade was in your hand, and when he threw himself on top of you, you shoved him off with one hand and used the knife with the other. 

It found its home in his neck.

You scrambled away, not yet realising what had just happened. At your hands. You stared at him in shock where he laid in front of you, the sounds sickening, wet gurgle as his throat opened up. Blood poured out in a thick stream, hot and fast, soaking his shirt.

In shock and desperation, you grabbed at the wound as if to counteract what you had just done, but he took that opportunity to grab you by the hair and neck, attempting to choke you. Fear surged through you once more, but his once-hard grip was already weakening and you could wrestle free.

By the time you recovered and looked up, the life had drained from his eyes. All you could hear was your breathing and the pulse in your head.

You could smell the blood. On your hands, on his clothes, still oozing from his wound. It was dizzying, the world becoming distant as you were trapped inside this bubble that consisted of the two of you. You and the corpse.

You realised you had never seen a corpse before, not in person. Smelling fresh blood was different from smelling it once it had harkened on Lee’s skin. Not even the thought of Lee could drag you out of the state you were slowly being pulled into.

Without fully acknowledging your movements, you moved back towards the man, the one who had wished you dead and died by his own knife. Your eyes were fixated on his wound, something building inside of you at a rapid speed. A coil built in your stomach, one you had known was there for essentially forever, without the ability to give it a name.

It snapped. And as it did, you leaned down and sunk your teeth into his neck.

Everything felt right, not the kind of comfortable right you had developed with Lee, it felt like your body was finally getting air after a long period of suffocation, it felt like water after a long run. It felt like a meal after having been starving.

Your face was buried further and further in the flesh, your mind completely void of all thoughts. Just your fingers and teeth, blood and bone. Feral, instinctive, lost in the hunger that just kept building, like it was never enough. 

"Shit."

A switch went off, and you were snapped back to reality. The smell of forest pine and moss, bonfire and smoke crept back in. As you slowly lifted your gaze, you saw him standing at the edge of the clearing, eyes wide, his face pale in the moonlight. His gaze was locked on you, and for the first time since you met him, you saw real shock on his face. Not fear exactly, but something close. Something you didn’t expect.

Horror.

“Lee…” Your voice broke, barely a whisper. The reality of what you’d just done hit you all at once, crashing into you like a wave. “Oh, God.”

Your eyes flashed back down and suddenly it was as if you realised you had a corpse at your feet. You scrambled backwards, breathing quickening, horrified and lost. You stared at your hands as tears were beginning to blur your vision, only worsened by how you couldn’t even see your skin’s colour through all the blood. Small curses kept spilling out past your lips as your eyes darted between the man, your hands and Lee.

“I– I didn’t mean to, I–” Your voice broke.

Lee took a step forward, his face still a mask of shock. For a moment, he just stood there, frozen in place, staring at the blood smeared across your skin. He’d always sensed something in you, always felt that you and him were the same in some way, but this… this was different. He hadn’t smelled it on you before. He had no idea.

“I didn’t– I don’t know what happened, I just–” You couldn’t make sense of it. Of anything. Your world was turned upside down.

“Hey.” Lee had made his way over to you, sitting on his knees in front of you. His voice snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts, low and firm but not harsh. He closed the distance between you grabbing your arm, pulling you up from the ground. His grip was steady, but there was urgency in it now. “We gotta go.”

You blinked at him, still in shock, the reality of what you’d done slowly settling in. “But –”

“I know, I know, okay?” He pulled on a piece of hair plastered to your skin by blood, tucking it behind your hair. “I get it. But we gotta go. Now.” His voice cut through your haze of confusion and guilt. He didn’t wait for you to respond, didn’t give you the chance to argue. He grabbed you by the waist, practically lifting you off your feet as he dragged you away from the body and into the trees.

The world around you blurred as he pulled you through the forest, his grip firm, unyielding. The pounding in your head drowned out everything else– the sound of the party, the crackle of the bonfire, the smell of blood still clinging to you. All you could think about was what you had just done. What it meant. What you were.

By the time you reached the truck, you were shaking, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Lee shoved you into the passenger seat, his hand still gripping your arm like he was afraid you might bolt. He climbed in beside you, slamming the door shut, his face hard and unreadable as he started the engine.

For a while, there was nothing but the hum of the road, the world outside the truck a blur of dark trees and empty stretches of highway. Lee didn’t say anything, his eyes locked on the road ahead, his grip tight on the wheel. Mind racing almost as fast as the car, as he sped down the highway, determined to get as far away from the scene as possible. You sat beside him, leaning your head on the dashboard in front of you as you tried to gather yourself. Your hands still trembling, blood still drying on your skin. 

You could barely breathe, the walls of the truck closing in around you. The reality of what you had done hit you again, harder this time. You had killed someone. Eaten someone.

You choked on a sob, tears already streaking the blood on your face. Your chest was tightening, your vision blurring. “Lee, I–”

There was no way for you to finish the sentence.

With your eyes clenched shut, hidden away, making yourself as small as possible in your seat, you couldn’t see the pained look he gave you. He needed to protect you by putting distance between you and the crime. But all he wanted was to pull you close.

“It’s okay. I will stop as soon as I can. It’s okay.” 

Eventually he caught eye of a discreet sideroad and veered the truck down it as fast as possible. He slammed on the brakes, parking the car on a plot of grass by a river. The engine cut off, leaving the night in a sudden, heavy silence. In the blink of an eye, Lee was out of the truck, opening your door to pull you out as well. You were too out of it, not processing anything that was happening. He ended up scooping you into his arms and carrying you bridal style down to the riverside. 

One bloody bride that is.

He sat you down by the water, his hands still firm on your arms, not giving you room to break down yet. "Sit here." His voice was softer now, but still edged with urgency. He knelt beside you, shrugging off his jacket and dipping it into the water. The cold night air hit your skin, but you barely felt it, still lost in the haze of panic.

You sat there, frozen, as he started to clean the blood off your hands, your arms, your face, as carefully as he could when hurrying. His touch was careful, deliberate, the way it had been when you first found him at the creek, battered and trying to clean himself up. But there was something different this time, something softer, more protective, like he wasn’t just cleaning the blood away, but trying to take some of the weight of it with him. Like he was saying, You don’t have to carry this alone. His jaw was clenched, eyes focused entirely on you, like he was trying to fix you, trying to put you back together piece by piece.

“Lee,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Am I–?” You couldn’t finish the sentence.

He paused, his hands stilling for just a second before he looked up at you. His expression softened, something breaking in his eyes. He reached up with a wet hand, brushing over your cheek and simultaneously cleaning some blood off. "You don’t have to be scared of it," he murmured, his voice low, steady. "Or of me."

You blinked, tears welling in your eyes. "I don’t understand."

“I’m here.” His fingers remained on your face, wiping away the tears before they could fall too far. “I’m not going anywhere. You hear me?”

You gave a faint nod. 

For a long moment, neither of you said anything, the weight of what had just happened hanging between you. He kept trying to get as much blood as possible off you, making you presentable again both in case someone saw you and to help you feel normal again. He didn’t try to explain it, didn’t try to rationalize it. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “He attacked me, I protected myself and then, then–”

“I know,” he said quietly, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “I know.”

Lee made sure your face and hands were free from blood, and then he helped you out of your stained sweater, leaving you in just your top underneath. He discarded it quick and turned back to you, grabbing your shaking hands.

“We need to move again, sweetheart” he said, voice low but certain. “We can’t stay too close.”

He stood up, reaching out to pull you up with him. His movements were quiet, purposeful. He didn’t rush you, but there was a tension in the air now, like he was calculating the next move. You could tell his mind was already working ahead, mapping out the quickest way to get you both far from the scene, far from the mess you left behind.

Your legs wobbled as you stood, your body still weak from the adrenaline crashing out of your system, but Lee’s grip on you was firm, guiding you back toward the truck. He opened the passenger door, helping you in before sliding into the driver’s seat. He tentatively took your hand with the one that wasn’t on the steering wheel, rubbing circles on it with his thumb as a silent comfort. The truck rumbled to life beneath you, and for a moment, all you could hear was the sound of the engine, drowning out the thoughts you didn’t want to face.

"I didn’t know it would feel like this," you whispered once you were back on the road, your voice shaking. "I never… I didn’t think I’d ever be like this."

Lee was quiet for a moment, his eyes trained on the road, like he was thinking carefully about what to say next. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, though there was something distant in it, like he was pulling from his own memories. "First time I fed… I couldn’t stop shaking afterward. Not ‘cause of the blood. It was the way it felt. Right and wrong all at once. Like it was something I was supposed to be ashamed of, but my body just didn’t care."

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you in a way that made your chest tighten. It was exactly how you felt – the rush of power, the satisfaction of feeding, mixed with the horror of what you had done. You had never wanted this, but it was like your body had decided for you.

"I didn’t want to stop," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t even think about it. I just… gave in."

Lee turned to you, his eyes soft but serious, and for a moment, you could see the weight of his own guilt mirrored in his expression. "That’s what it does. That’s what the hunger is." He paused, his jaw clenching briefly before he continued. "It takes over. And once it does… it’s like you don’t have a choice anymore. You just need."

You shivered, wrapping an arm around your stomach, trying to shake off the phantom feeling of the blood on your skin, the taste of it still faint on your lips. "I’m going to need it now,” you said, the realisation setting in. “How do I handle that?”

He exhaled slowly, and you saw the streetlights reflected in his eyes as they grew somewhat glossy. "You learn. Little by little. You get to know the hunger, learn how to control it instead of letting it control you. I will help you with it. You won’t do it alone.”

The tears you’d been holding back started to spill over, and you turned away, trying to hide your face. "I don’t really know what to do with myself now.”

He remained quiet, just held your hand tighter. 

For a long while, you just sat there, letting the silence and the weight of his words wash over you. The night felt vast around you, you realised now that Lee had rolled down the windows for you. Likely to help you breathe better. You should have known Lee would understand, because of course he would. Yet, there had been fear that he would be angry, disgusted. He wasn’t, not even a little bit. If anything, he was calm. Steady. Like this wasn’t something that could break you.

He built a little bit of confidence you, even as you felt your insides caving in.

The road stretched out ahead of you in silence, the dark trees a blur outside the windows. Lee was counting the miles until it would be safe to stop for the night, just a little bit longer. The truck was filled by spiraling thoughts from you both.

Lee had to stop himself from going down a rabbithole of blaming himself. Thinking that he influenced you, that maybe, if you hadn’t met him you never would have discovered this part of you. He wanted to hate himself, he wanted to break down, but with every glance over at you he knew he couldn’t. Your feelings were what mattered tonight. He knew he needed to keep it together to guide you through it. 

You had been crying on and off for the past hour, struggling with too many emotions at once. To process the assault and the intense fear you felt. Guilt consumed you, but not necessarily for killing the man, as you knew you had to, but then you felt guilty about your lack of guilt, and it was a never ending spiral. You felt horrible about feeding on him, about the discovery that you were an eater. When it was Lee it didn’t bother you, because, as you had come to realise, you just loved him. You know he is good. But you? That one was harder.

Then, your mind went to more practical matters. You had killed someone, feasted upon their body and then abandoned it. There were so many layers of illegal in those actions, and a new kind of fear and panic grabbed you.

Lee had seen these emotions develop in his peripheral, subconsciously speeding a bit faster, looking for somewhere safe to stop.

Your chest began to tighten, the panic from earlier threatening to bubble up. “Lee…” Your voice cracked, barely holding itself together. “What if someone finds out?”

He glanced at you briefly, his face unreadable. “They won’t.”

“But–”

“We’re not going back. Not to that town, not anywhere near it.” His voice was firm, cutting through your panic with the same intensity he had used earlier. “By the time they realize anything, we’ll be long gone. We’re already long gone.”

His words were meant to be comforting, but they didn’t settle the storm in your chest. You squeezed your hands together, spotting some leftover blood around your cuticle. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the air in the truck was too thick, too stifling. The man’s corpse was laying on top of your lungs and you were suffocating.

“Lee… I…” You gasped, scratching at your skin, your vision starting to blur. You couldn’t catch your breath, couldn’t think past the overwhelming guilt, the horror of what you’d done.

He called your name, but you couldn’t register anything anymore.

The truck swerved again as Lee pulled off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as he pulled up to a small clearing, hidden behind a stretch of trees. An answered prayer. 

He immediatley turned to you, his brow furrowed with concern, his voice steady but laced with urgency. "Hey. Hey, breathe. Sweetheart, I think you’re having a panic attack."

You tried to speak, but your words got caught and you were doubling over in the space that felt more and more confining.

In a swift motion, Lee had pulled you over the console and into his lap, opening the door beside him to let in as much air as possible. He held you securely, tight grip meant to ground you as he tried to talk you down.

With a hand on your cheek, he made you meet his eyes. "Look at me. You gotta breathe, okay? In through your nose, out through your mouth. Focus on me."

You tried, but the panic had taken hold, your mind spiraling out of control. "I killed him. I killed him, and–"

"I know," Lee cut you off, his voice soft but firm. "You did. But it’s fine. It is fine, you are fine. I know. But you’re gonna be okay. You’re not in danger. Just breathe. Please breathe."

His words didn’t allow for you to argue, quelling your disagreements before you could make them. He cupped your face, stroking his thumb along your jaw, and exaggerated his breathing so you could follow it. In and out. He was so close, his eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, all you could focus on was him. He was pulling you back from the edge.

"Breathe," he repeated, his voice a low murmur. "That’s all you need to do right now."

You closed your eyes, following his lead, trying to pull air into your lungs the way he told you. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. Slowly, painfully, the tightness in your heart began to ease, your breath coming in shaky but more controlled gasps.

When you opened your eyes again, Lee was still watching you, his hand still gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing away the tears you hadn’t noticed falling. "There you go." His voice barely above a whisper. "Just like that."

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch, your body still trembling but no longer on the verge of breaking. "I’m sorry," you whispered, your voice fragile and raw.

Lee shook his head, his gaze softening as he looked at you. "Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong."

You wanted to argue, to tell him that you had done something wrong, something unforgivable, but the way he was looking at you – like you weren’t broken, like you weren’t some monster, made the words die in your throat.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. "I always got you. You’re good."

The weight of his words, the certainty in them, settled deep in your chest, pushing back the panic, the fear. You weren’t alone in this. You had Lee. You always had Lee.

You stayed like that for a while, just sitting in his lap in the truck, your breath finally steadying as the night stretched out around you. You didn’t notice how hard you were holding onto Lee, clutching his shirt and even some skin, but he didn’t say anything either. He just stayed beside you, his hands never leaving you, grounding you, pulling you back from the edge every time the panic threatened to take over again.

You breathed together. Through it all.

After what felt like hours, he finally spoke, his voice quiet but sure. "Let’s get settled down, okay?”

You nodded, too tired to argue, too drained to do anything but follow his lead. Lee helped you out of the seat, his arm steady around your waist as he guided you down. He went around the truck, gathering the blankets from the backseat, more than he would usually grab, and set up your usual makeshift bed in the trunk as quickly as possible.

Together, you climbed into the softness he had created just for you. It felt odd to do something so familiar when it felt like everything had changed. Lee had not, still watching you, as he leaned back against the cab of the truck. You pulled on one of his sweaters, settling in beside him. He tangled your feet together and grabbed your hand, but didn’t initiate more than that, expectantly waiting for you to process your thoughts out loud with him.

Your eyes were slightly glossy again when you whispered, "Thank you."

He shook his head, immediately softening. "You don’t have to thank me."

"I do," you whispered, your voice catching. "You didn’t have to do any of this. And you did."

Lee’s hand tightened slightly on your knee, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your pants. "Of course," he said, his voice low but firm. "You’re stuck with me, remember?"

A small, broken laugh escaped you, something warm flickering in your chest. You looked up at him, tears blurring your vision, but there was a kind of quiet relief there, too. Lee’s gaze was steady, unwavering, like no matter what had happened, no matter how far you had fallen, he was there to pull you back.

"Lee…" you started, but the words caught in your throat, too many emotions swirling inside you to put into words.

He seemed to understand anyway. Without saying anything, he angled himself more towards you, his forehead resting against yours. The closeness, the way his body pressed gently into yours everywhere, was enough to calm the last of your racing thoughts. You let out a shaky breath, your hands reaching up to gently hold his face, your fingers brushing through his hair.

For a moment, you just stayed like that, your breaths mingling, the world narrowing down to just the two of you.

"I’ve got you," he whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost to the night air. "You’re safe."

Something in his voice, the way he said it, made your heart clench. He had never said it out loud, but you knew. He tipped your chin up, meeting your lips with a searing kiss, one that felt like promise. 

It felt like forever before he pulled away, far enough to be able to see your eyes, searching your face for more hurt to quench. You could see his bottom lip quivering slightly before he said it.

"I love you.” 

Life stilled in the small clearing, and the weight of the past year came tumbling down on you. All you had done, all that had changed. How painful it had all been. How worth it it all was, to be sitting here in this boy’s arms now.

You took him in, your breath shaky. His words hung in the air between you, raw and real in a way that made your pulse race. 

He smiled, understanding your reaction. His forehead went back to yours, his hands cradling your face gently, his thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles against your skin. There was nothing aloof about him now. He was all here, in this moment, focused on you like nothing else mattered. "I'm serious," he murmured, his voice soft, the vulnerability in it something you'd never heard before. "I love you."

Your throat tightened, grappling with the weight of it all. "Still?" you whispered, your voice trembling. 

His grip tightened slightly, pulling you closer, his breath warm against your lips. "You think this scares me? You think any of this changes how I feel about you?" His gaze was intense, a burning passion that steadied you, even as your heart threatened to tear itself apart. "You’re still you. This doesn’t make you someone else. So, yeah. Still. Always."

Your heart soared, a flood of emotions you hadn’t expected surging to the surface. You kissed him again, slowly, just lips pressed against lips as you tried to calm yourself.  "I don’t know what life looks like for us now.”

"Then we’ll figure it out," he said simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Like there had never been another option. “Part of the fun, right?”

He pulled away just to kiss your forehead and temples, lingering there for almost a beat too long before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. "You're not alone in this. I’m not letting you go through it alone. Got it?"

You blinked back the hot, stinging tears that threatened to spill over. The calm in his voice, the unwavering certainty in his eyes grounded you like no else. It felt impossible, but here he was, telling you that you weren’t lost, that he wasn’t leaving, no matter what happened.

"I need you, you know," he whispered against your cheek, kissing it once more. "I don’t think you get that."

You let out a shaky breath, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer. You clung to him. "I do," you said, your voice soft but firm. "I need you, Lee. Desperately."

A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Then don’t overthink it." 

And before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, kissing you like it was the only thing keeping him alive. There was a quiet desperation in the way he kissed you, like every ounce of the feelings he couldn’t quite say were being poured into that moment. His hands cupped your face, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss as though he was trying to erase the space between you.

You kissed him back with the same intensity, your fingers tangling in his hair, your body pressing into his, craving the closeness, the connection. Everything else faded into the background, drowned out by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the warmth of his hands on your skin.

His lips left yours for just a moment, brushing against your jaw, then trailing down your neck, each kiss soft but deliberate, making your breath hitch. "I’m not going anywhere," he murmured again, the words muffled against your skin. "You’ve got me. No matter what."

You couldn’t find the words, so you kissed him again, your hands tightening in his hair, pulling him closer. He responded instantly, his arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against him as though he was afraid to let go, as though you might disappear if he loosened his grip.

For a long moment, the world was just the two of you. Nothing else mattered. It was just you and him, and the quiet understanding that you were in this together. 

When you finally pulled back, breathless, your forehead pressed to his, you let out a laugh, more from the relief of having him here than anything else. It made him give you a curios smile, just happy to see you regain some of your usual behavior.

 "So," you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke, "are you gonna say it again, or what?"

He let out a low chuckle, his arms still wrapped around you, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. "I love you," he said, his voice warm, no hesitation this time. "I love you. I’m not scared to say it, even if you make me say it a thousand more times."

"Good," you murmured, leaning in to kiss him again, softer this time, but no less meaningful. "Because I love you too. And I’m not letting you go."

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and he kissed you back, slow and lingering, like he wanted to memorize the feel of you against him. When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, his forehead resting against yours.

"We’ll figure this out," he promised softly, his fingers tracing idle patterns along your arm. "Whatever happens, we will be fine. Together."

You nodded, your heart finally settling, a sense of calm washing over you. "Yeah. We will."

And with that, the two of you sank down into the blankets, the night quiet at last. Lee’s arm stayed wrapped around you, his lips pressing soft kisses to whatever exposed skin he could find, as if he couldn’t quite believe that you were real, that this moment was real. 

As you lay there, tangled together, the world felt a little less terrifying. You had each other, and somehow, that was enough.

[orcboxer]

Sure there's zombies killing and eating people on the street but those people are not dying from the virus they're dying from comorbidities. For instance, that guy we saw getting eaten on the way into work today clearly died from blood loss, not infection, plus he already had a heart condition. People with preexisting conditions are just going to have to take care of themselves. Say it with me, "They're all already dead to me." See, that feels a lot better now doesn't it?

Good because you still have to go to work. No we're not paying you extra. Yes we're doubling grocery prices. No you don't qualify for disability. Or healthcare. Or a home.

Look, if you get bitten, you can stay home for one day, I guess 😒, but then you need to come in early. We're really short staffed at the moment, despite our company's profits being higher than ever. In fact we may be laying some of you off next month. You don't mind working off the clock right?

Also you look silly with that protective gear. We're gonna harass you for it, not like institutionally but just socially. Who cares if a zombie attacks you? Who cares if we invite them into the building? You don't need to defend yourself, you're just overreacting. If you get bitten just tell everyone the festering bite mark is from a different animal, that's what we all do.

And hey, don't worry so much. It's endemic, which means we don't have to keep track of how many people are dying from it anymore. Just look at those numbers! It's only killed 2,000 people in America this week! That's basically nobody! We're back to normal!

If everything starts tasting like rotting meat for the rest of your life, it's probably something else. If you experience brain fog or you forget things constantly or you're tired all the time after even minor physical activity, it's just because you're lazy. Yes every other virus you ever get will also be increasingly worse but that's just a coincidence. Those viruses just happen to be exponentially worse now.

Plus, those few weeks during the lockdown were terrible for my mental health. I just can't keep living like that, so we have to go back to normal life, which now involves people biting each other and twitching uncontrollably and rotting visibly.

You can't expect the world to wait for you. "Already dead to me," remember?

[gay-dorito-dust]

May I request BootHill and Argenti with a crush who’s reckless and accidentally confessed due to a particularly bad injury?

Crush doesn’t care for getting injured at all and always brushes off their concerns when they get injured but one day they just get rlly badly hurt and when they try to do the usual

“I’m okay”

It just kinda snaps in the boys?

(Sorry if this is too much)

Boothill

‘You fudging idiot!’ Boothill screamed when he saw the massive gash on your side. ‘You’ve gone and gotten yourself hurt again!’

‘I’m okay.’ You said as casually as you could while trying not to wince as Boothill began to put pressure on your wound to prevent it from bleeding out further. The gash fucking killed but you weren’t about to let him know how much it hurt, you refused to as you’ve dealt with far worse.

You haven’t, actually, that was a fucking lie to begin with.

‘I’m okay’ they say.’ Boothill scoffs, ‘yeah right, you’ve only gone and done it now! For fork’s sake would it kill you to actually act like you want to fudging live for once?!’

He knew you were a reckless spirit for the moment you first met, you were someone who didn’t care how many scars would litter your skin, only caring about finishing the mission no matter how debilitating the pain was. At first he didn’t care to know your name nor your reasoning as to why you act the way you did, but when he started to feel something for you, that’s when he began to worry himself sick over you.

Boothill genuinely wondered whether or not you cared that you lived after each and every suicide mission, you couldn’t be mended or rebuilt like he could, you weren’t invincible as you’d like to this you were and Boothill could only hope that today served as a reminder of that.

Boothill didn’t want to lose you, he couldn’t bare it as he’s already lost his friends, family and his darling Arabella who’s smile so wide you could see the her gap tooth on full display. Arabella was just learning to walk when she was taken from him along with everyone else who meant everything to him; Revenge was his only motive and loosing you would only make him surrender to it a hell of lot faster.

‘If all you’re going to do is shout about how stupid I am then you can fuck off and leave me here to die since I’m such a idiot in your eyes, mr spaghetti western.’ You barked, hating Boothill’s unnecessary comments and hating the worried look within his eyes even more, it made you feel useless and pathetic.

Boothill looked at you as though you’ve grown a second head, lost on how that was the conclusion you came to, you must be delirious from the blood loss. ‘Fork me do I have to spell it out for you- I like you fudging dummy!’ He exclaimed. ‘I’m mad not because I hate you but because you’re hurt and I’m scared of loosing you darling!’ He chuckled humourlessly as he presses his forehead against yours, the one time where he was glad that his face was the last places where he could feel your warmth seep into him. ‘Your recklessness has me on the edge of insanity more than once sweetheart. I mean do you know just how much it hurt to see you like this? I might as well have gone on a tirade and hunt down every son of a nice lady who played a part in your scars.’

You remained in stunned silence.

This confession wasn’t something you were expecting from someone like Boothill, it made you wonder whether you were imaging this for yourself, and the reality was that he wasn’t actually here with you and you were indeed dying alone with no one to provide you company other then dead corpses waiting for you to join them. So in hopes of proving yourself wrong, you lifted a hand to his cheek, watched as he melted against it, his warmth seeping into your skin.

He was here.

Boothill was here and this was real, all this was real.

‘I like you too your silly cowboy.’ You whispered before pressing a tender kiss to his plush lips. A battlefield wasn’t a great place for a confession nor for love to blossom but if that was the case then why did it feel so right for the both of you in that moment.

Later you were taken to medical and Boothill, your official partner, went back to talking your ear off about how reckless you were, but would press kisses to your forehead and hands to let you know that he’ll take care of you from now on.

Argenti hated it whenever you came back from missions injured and your carelessness towards the scrapes and bruises that littered your body didn’t exactly help either.

‘I’m fine.’ You said after spraining an ankle.

‘I’ll live.’ You waved him off dismissively after hurting your side during a mission.

It seemed as though you never held yourself in the same regard as he did, and Argenti couldn’t help but feel his heart break the more and more he witness you disregard other people’s concern, acting though you had a paper cut rather then a wound that wound take you out of action for a good couple of weeks.

So when he found you with your back pressed up against a wall and a deep gash on your leg that made it hard for you to stand never less walk.

‘My beloved rose!’ He cried as he rushed to your side, setting aside his weapon as he inspected the wound.

‘I’m okay, it’s only a small gash.’ You told him but Argenti wasn’t about to hear it, not this time. He wasn’t going to allow you the chance to dismiss him when you were severely injured. So when he levelled you with a stare, you began to wish you could take back your words as seeing such a stern expression on a man as beautiful as Argenti was actually downright terrifying. ‘This is vastly different than a small gash, this is a serious injury that could alter your life’s trajectory for good if we treat it with such disregard as you have done with previous injuries.’ He told you with a seriousness that had you listen to him.

‘And why do you care?’ You asked.

‘I’ve always cared.’ Argenti replied straightforward, ‘every injury I’ve cared. I worried for your health, your well-being, both physical and mental, but you don’t seem to do the same and that pains me because you are so-‘

‘-reckless?’ You cut in, having heard the same thing from pretty much everyone and believing Argenti would be no different from them.

‘-beautiful.’ Argenti said and your breath caught in your throat. ‘You are so beautiful to me, my rose. I have found myself grown quite fond of you in a short amount of time that any pain caused to you might as well be my own.’ He finished as he saw the conflicting emotions within your eyes and prays that you could find the truth within his words.

‘Why?’ You asked. ‘What would a knight of beauty want with a reckless idiot like me?’

Argenti smiled softly. ‘You may be reckless but you are far from an idiot my dear, I like you a lot and I merely say this in fear of a future where I may never get the chance to do so for multiple reasons. Whether or not you accept is solely up to you.’ Argenti felt as though he had finally gotten a heavy weight off of his chest, but felt a pinch of anxiety when you didn’t respond after a period of time, and began to wonder whether this was a smart move on his behalf.

‘I always dreamed of having a knight in shining armour.’ You admitted, raising a hand to cup the back of his head. ‘But I didn’t think that dream would come true until you came along and I knew in that moment I would give you my heart and so much more.’ Argenti breathes a sigh of relief as he rests his forehead against your own, nuzzling your noses together briefly. ‘I’d be more than honoured of being your knight, if you’ll let me.’

You chuckled as you looked at him fondly. ‘I’d be more than happy to my cherry haired beauty.’ You replied as Argenti was quick to scoop you in his arms and carried you to the medics, who told you that you’d be out of action for quite a while and Argenti was more then happy to be your caregiver during that time, you couldn’t be more happier at the opportunity of being with your knight in shining armour.

[helluvapoison]

heyy i was wondering if you could do like Lucifer x reader getting married if ,you want to ofc🫶

btw i love your work so muchh, thank you!!🫶(also english is not my first language so i hope i didn't write anything wrong)

Absolutely I Do

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

a little insight to your wedding with the king

[part ii (18+ only)]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• What would be a tamer version of a bridezilla? Not quite lashing out at everyone and their mother over the tiniest details but blowing a fuse when white roses arrive and he specifically asked for white gardenias?

• That would be Lucifer

• Asmodeus is his best man and the other Sins are his groomsmen, they’ll handle the flower debacle and any other matter that needs saving

• Good natured Charlie was given, arguably, the easiest task of holding onto the rings! She’s more than capable of planning the entire event on her own (and she asked to… twice) but Lucifer wanted her to enjoy this wedding as he wouldn’t be having another

• It’s part of why he wants this to go perfectly!

• He never thought he’d find another love after Lilith. He didn’t even realize that while you were delicately filling in the crater she’d left, he was falling more and more in love with you

• The other part, his pride and perfectionism aside, is that while it may be his second wedding, it’s your first. In his eyes you deserve only the best and he’ll be damned all over again if he doesn’t deliver

• You told your fiancé (FUCK he loved that word coming out of your mouth, almost as much as he was going to like husband!) to at least try to not go overboard. To which you received a “Me? Overboard? Darling, I would never! Simple and elegant, that’s what the headlines will say!”

• The many, many, many vision boards said otherwise. However you already knew damn well “simple and elegant” translated to grandeur and extravagant– and that’s exactly what it was. To Lucifer’s credit, it wasn’t gaudy or blinding. It really was a gorgeous spectacle

• Per his request it’s an all white event, a stark contrast to the overall location. The guest list is massive. After all, Lucifer’s still a king and certain people would be offended if they missed an occasion like this. Everyone goes all out. Bodies pour into chairs, everyone dripping head to toe in white garments and glamorous jewels

• Lucifer preened and primped, checking the mirror a couple hundred times and asking whoever was in the room if he looked ok. Anything less than “outstanding” had him groaning as he turned back to the mirror

• The wedding suddenly seems like a terrible idea. Not because he has cold feet (he’s rather sweaty, actually) but because the moment he sees you he just wants to steal you away

• You are positively and wholly breathtaking. The stars are jealous over how you outshine them! He can’t do anything but stare in amazement as you walk down the aisle

• Does he, Lucifer Morningstar, vow to protect, love, cherish and serve you for all eternity? Undoubtedly. He adds a few his own too like spoil you rotten, compliment you hourly, never ever never let you feel like you’re alone— all things he’s already done but wanted to make it “official”

• “It’s been an honor to be your confidant and friend… but I’m dying to do that and more as your husband.”

• Then do you take him to have and to hold, for better or worse, richer or poorer?

• “I do.” You answer proudly, squeezing his hands ever so slightly

• Forgetting present company, forgetting he’s a king and supposed to act dignified, Lucifer doesn’t wait to get permission to kiss you. He jumps slightly, knowing you’ll catch him instantly. Hugging your neck he crashes his lips onto yours

• You giggle against him, returning the kiss briefly before setting him down. (Hell knows he’d get carried away and forget much more if you didn’t)

• “I do believe you’re my husband now, Luci.”

• The entire wedding may as well have been a surprise party the way his eyes widened, as if it only just set in what the ordeal was for

• “Oh my golly, I’m your husband. I’m your husband! Hey everybody, I'm their husband!”

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ don’t apologize, you did great friend! thank you so mochi and i hope you enjoy

[justadeadreaper]

These are mainly fluffy headcanons with slight themes of angst due to the nature of long deployments with implications/references of a death that could happen.

One thing people tend to forget about König working for a private military company is that he can still go on long deployments/missions that can take months to even years to complete where he would not be able to see his beloved.

König may be an extremely cocky man, which is something no one can deny from his voice lines. On the surface level he may think that no other person is skilled enough to kill him, but deep down that is not the case. Even if his anxiety does not actively affect him on a level you would truly notice it is still rooted deep in his brain as it spews out harrowing ideas that he can not get rid of as they nip at him while being made bigger by his trauma and past experiences. This causes a deep-seated paranoia about the idea of him dying on the field and leaving you all alone with your last memory of him being a sad one haunts him, or even worse in his time gone you completely forget about him and move on to someone new that could fill the hole he left behind.

This leads him to make the day before his long deployment the best of your life while he puts together a surprise to ensure you always have pieces of him while he is apart from you.

The day before he makes sure you have the best date of your life so far. It first starts with breakfast in your shared bed after he lets you sleep in until late in the morning, it is all your favourite breakfast foods and some of his own as he lets you splurge a bit and have your favourite dessert items as well while he eats his waffles with pistachio and strawberry ice cream. He loves to cuddle you and just stay in bed with you for a couple more hours to bathe in your love and warmth as you brush your hands through his hair before massaging his scalp before gently kissing all over his face, paying special attention to his scars. Once you finally get out of bed he takes you on a little shopping spree through your favourite stores letting you buy anything you want without worrying about the price even if you have to go to the sketchy game place that smells of death and sweat so he can get more figures or knives or guns or mangas for his collection. To end your adventure he would either take you to an aquarium or museum of your choice later in the evening so that fewer people are there just so you could have your moment together that looks like it is straight out of a movie. Before you leave you drag him towards the gift shop and he buys you whatever gifts you want  then he takes you home as he secretly calls your favourite takeout place so you can eat it together once it arrives as another surprise. Then to finish the day you spend the whole night cuddling and watching movies until you fall asleep. 

On a more spicy note, if you want children and do not have any yet I can see him trying his best to get you pregnant that night as he feels and loves you one last time just so if you lose him you will at least still have a part of him with you to help you pass through the years before you are reunited again.

In the morning he probably leaves with no word to you at all as he would hate your last memory to be one of heartbreak. Only a letter on his side of the bed. The first few pages are him apologising for leaving without a goodbye with the explanation that he is going on a long deployment before detailing how much he loves you, then he explains how he took a few of your shirts to use as a mask so he could always have your smell with him as he battles and a photo of you that he keeps above his heart so you can still be close to him, and finally on the last few pages are a detailed scavenger hunt with clues that lead you all over your shared homes with each clue leading to a spot with the clue being based on an important memory that was in that spot.

The items he would put in these spots varied and each time changed (unless it was his last time) but it was always the same types of items every time even if the spots changed.

In the first spot would always be some of his shirts, jackets, or hoodies that smelled of him so that when you were around the house you could wear them and be comforted by his scent as they would always smell heavily of his cologne. Every time after the first time he did this he would put different clothes in his place so you never got bored of the options he chose.

In the second spot would be a mixture of letters and USB sticks. There would be a letter on top explaining that the letters with white lily petals on the front and USBs with white lilies painted on them were for if he died, they have a gold writing on top that labels which life event of yours it was for and if you had children they would have the same and even if you did not have kids yet he still made some for future potential children, and the letters with forget-me-not petals on the front and USBs with forget-me-nots painted on them were for when you missed in and were struggling to deal with your life and different emotions without him there, and USBs with pink carnations painted on them that were just recorded videos him talking about different topics just for when you wanted to hear his voice talking about topics he found interesting. He explains in the top letter that the reason he wrote the letters and recorded videos that he put on the USB was due to the fact that in the letters he had to be concise and direct so he could get to everything he wanted to say while the videos are for him to be able to express all his emotions and not be confined to what would fit on the page as you see him be himself in the photos. Every time after the first time he did this he would put new letters and USBs in the place of the old ones to add to the collection with new responses to situations, topics, and emotions he thought of.

In the third spot would be a bear from Build-A-Bear (specifically the Pumpkin Sparkle bear due to it being ginger like him) that has multiple voice boxes in it that has recordings of him saying “I love you” or different compliments or nicknames he would usually call you with a custom heart too that bumped in the rhythm of his heart. The bear would be dressed up in a mini version of his normal uniform he wears on contracts as it holds a bottle of his favourite cologne just for you to use. Every time after the first time he did this he would put new clothes you could dress the bear up in based on his other outfits he wears on his contracts or at home or from when he dragged you to conventions.

In the fourth spot would be a scrapbook of your life together next to the small journals he took on deployments or used when his insomnia overwhelmed him which made it impossible to sleep. The scrapbook would have photos of all your dates together and important dates such as birthdays, promotions, holidays, etc. with petals and small drawings decorating the pages while the journals would be filled with countless pages filled with drawings of you, poems directed towards you or wrote solely about you, and ramblings about how he felt about you and everything he adored about you. Every time after the first time he did this he would create new scrapbooks that could be paired with the old that shows off more of your life events together and more journals that are filled to the brim with you.

In the fifth spot would be two books he made himself, the first is a cookbook bursting at the seams where he has handwritten all of the recipes that have been passed down his family over generations upon generations but alongside it are also recipes of all the dishes you enjoyed together or recipes he knew you loved even if you had never had the time to share them together, while the second is a book of all the jokes and puns he has told you or he wanted to tell you or he wanted to use when he was finally a dad or the kids were old enough to understand. Every time after the first time he did this he would write down new pages of jokes or recipes that he thought of that could be added to the books.

Apart from the scavenger hunt I also imagine him doing other things for when he is gone. The second most prominent thing is the little glass animals that he has hidden all around the house with a tiny scroll wrapped around their body or neck with a cute ribbon that matches the colour of the animal to keep it attached; once the scroll is unrolled it reveals it is a note about how much he loves you and how beautiful you are or compliments in general or motivation just so you can be reminded everyday of how much he loves you as if he never left, like he was still there with you. Something that could be considered as condescending that comes from his cockiness, and the undiagnosed autism I think he has, is how he writes down instructions and reminders for everyday he is on deployment for you to use as normally each morning he writes a chore list for the day with reminders for both of you to eat and drink. If you showed him how an Alexa worked he sets up the Alexa to do the reminders too but for the next 30 years just in case he dies.

When he is on deployment he will try to send back letters at any opportunity he gets as he collects trinkets to give you once he gets home. If you did have cameras set up around the house, whenever he has free time he is watching them to see how you are and what you are doing, and you can bet that if a speaker and microphone is attached to the camera he is using it to talk and have conversations with you even if they are short due to the nature of his work.

[faeryarchives]

in sickness and in health

knowing that being the only student aside from grim in such dormitory, it's hard to take care and clean the place while you are sick and grim is panicking in the corner crying and asking them if you were dying or something so it's time for your lover to do something! note: this has been in my drafts since last year so if there is a prompt similar to mine it is pure coincidence + this is pretty long

recent fics: when your hopeless streamer gets a girlfriend (ace x reader) & don't lose me, not yet & its you, it always has been you

-‘๑’- tried to cook and clean for you but ends up in a disaster: everything was going well bc they got a list on what to do because they came prepared and ready to help! but it all became blurry but somehow them getting in the kitchen to cook made you rise from the grave (aka from bed) not risking fire hazard today 👋 picking up a broom? they know how to use one to clean of course but it ends up piling the dust near you causing you to cough some more because they keep colliding with grim who is trying to help 😔 they deserve an award for trying their best 👩🏻‍⚖️ while they weren't allowed in the kitchen, they try telling you of stories that happened while you were absent in attempt to help you get better until you fall asleep listening + leaving a kiss on your forehead before going back to their dorm to ask help or tips on what to cook for you to get better 🤍

— riddle roseheart, deuce spade, KALIM AL ASIM, rook hunt, lilia vanrouge

-‘๑’- scolds you for overworking yourself while taking care of everything: they are going to appear at your doorsteps in complete personal protective equipment with alcohol spray and a basket full of cooked food inside ... well maybe most of them would + expect some nagging from them like you shouldn't neglect yourself just to take care of others because that's not how it works love 🤬 ! even though they appear strict they are still soft when it comes to you asking them for something like giving them a hug (they would probably not do it though) or asking for seconds 🧚‍♀️ + reluctantly sings you a lullabye and after you fall asleep they would finally let down their tough persona + sit next to your bed holding your hand in theirs and caress your head, you are a tough cookie right? so go beat the sickness out of your system because they already miss your company

— jade leech, jamil viper, VIL SCHOENHEIT

-‘๑’- having a crisis: its either they never get sick or doesn't know how to take care of someone who is sick 😷 don't even joke about you dying because of your fever because it will just cause more panic please be easy on them 😭 but they will try to ask their close friends on what to do and they will do it very carefully (bonus if you were the one helping them) and they are actually good at it justtt very confused if they are doing it correctly + type to note down any changes in your fever whether it got better or worse 📝 they will shower you with things that would make you feel better - feeling cold? you can find yourselves being wrapped like a sushi with two thick blankets. feeling lonely? he knows he cannot be that near to you so he will shower you with plushies from who knows where! they won't leave until you are up and healthy again even if it means staying at ramshackle and even tending to grim

— sebek zigvolt, azul ashengrotto, IDIA SHROUD, malleus draconia

-‘๑’- gets sick with you: they know you are sick but they couldn't resist you asking for cuddles 🧍🏻‍♀️at first they would be like "no are you crazy, i don't want to get sick" but after the second one, they find themselves right next to you being the lucky plush toy for the day 🫂 will occasionally try to feed you and make you take your medicine and even alarming every 4 hours to drink but will ultimately result to the two of you falling asleep until grim wakes you up around night time realizing now TWO OF YOU are now sick 🤒 took the couple goals to the next level so expect them to be clingy because nothing is stopping them from cuddling you when he is also sick 🧍🏻‍♀️ it ends up with either trey, ruggie or jade nursing the two of you back to health 😭

— ace trappola, cater diamond, leona kingscholar, floyd leech

-‘๑’- does it perfectly: they had done it before and they will do it again 👯‍♀️ they are pretty used to taking care of someone because sometimes their family members would get sick and they are also the one taking care of them + read parenting 101 atp 🫂 being familiar in the field, they could even task grim in the way he would understand like taking note of your temp and check if it is time for your meds while your lover would go and cook meals suitable for your situation and i think they wouldn't really be so hard on you because being sick is normal and you are just human after all 🤍 instead they would focus on making you feel bettter and believe me you ARE SPOILED ROTTEN 🥺 they would probably tease you with things you can't eat but will give you just a tiny bit and will promise to give you everything when you are feeling better 😍 they are the type that will ask your classmates what they have done during your absence and collect your notes for you so just focus on healing 🫶

— epel felmier, silver, trey clover, ruggie bucchi, jack howl

[luxaofhesperides]

We Are Robins meeting to Signal apprehending Danny ; requested by @zylev-blog!

“Hey, Danny. How are you feeling?”

Danny gives Duke a tired smile, his head falling back against the wall. He’s sitting up today, which is good. It’s definitely an improvement from the many days Danny was unable to do much but lie down and grit his teeth through the pain as Duke checked on the gunshot wound. It’s a good thing Danny’s a meta with a healing factor, or nothing Duke could have done would have saved him.

As it is, the wound was severe enough to keep Danny vulnerable and unable to move on his own without making it worse. Though Duke has looked, he hasn’t had any luck in finding whoever did this to Danny. He hasn’t brought it up to the rest of the We Are Robin gang, but only because Danny only let him help if he kept it between the two of them.

What’s another secret? If it lets him stay close to Danny and make sure he’s healing well, then he’ll keep quiet and carry on the search by himself. He’s got plenty of practice in doing things on his own.

“Busy out there?” Danny asks as Duke sits down next to him, dropping his backpack onto the ground. 

“Yeah, it’s tough with the cops after us, but someone needs to help Gotham and with Batman gone…”

A pained expression crossed Danny’s face. Eyeing him carefully, Duke opened his backpack and pulled out a few protein bars and sports drinks for him. Once Danny takes them and began eating one, Duke takes out the first aid kit, always kept at the bottom of the backpack, and sets it in front of Danny.

The most he can do is offer supplies and company at this stage of Danny’s healing. He gets twitchy and tense when Duke tries to tend to his wound, and seems to have plenty of practice in patching himself up. 

He didn’t answer when Duke commented on it once, so Duke let the matter drop. 

Metas may have legal protection, but that doesn’t stop people from targeting them. Duke has no intention of pushing Danny into remembering unpleasant things while he’s already wounded, hiding out in the upper corner of an abandoned warehouse taken over by a group of homeless people. Most aren’t inside during the day, choosing instead to be out with the rest of the city, which leaves them alone. 

Duke keeps an eye on the ground floor of the warehouse, making sure no one comes in while Danny tends to his wound. When he peeks back, he can see that it’s much smaller than it was the night Duke found him, crawling down an alley with one hand clutching his side, tears slipping down his face. There had been so much blood that Duke was sure he had just stumbled upon someone dying and froze, horrified. 

And then a shout down the road prompted him to move, hauling Danny up and helping him into the warehouse to hide. 

For a normal person, if it didn’t kill them, the wound would still be raw and bleeding, larger than any gunshot wound he’s seen before. But Danny’s wound is closing up quickly, no longer bleeding, the edges a healing pink.

It doesn’t look like it’s going to scar, either. 

“Think it’ll be all healed up by the end of the week?”

Danny glances up, then continues covering it with new bandage, large enough to cover the entire wound. “Hopefully,” he says. “Then I’ll be out of your hair and can figure out a way to get home.”

“Your folks gonna look out for you?”

“Probably. I’m not planning on telling them, though, since they’ll get way too overprotective. The only reason they’re not tearing Gotham apart looking for me is because I came here with my godfather and he told them we’d be gone for two weeks. Can’t believe he tried to kill me on day one…”

“Your godfather tried to kill you?”

“Yeah. Not personally, or anything, but he definitely hired the guy who shot me. Though he also yelled at him for shooting me? Not sure what that’s about, but I never trusted the guy and he didn’t try to help me afterwards when I ran away, so. You know.”

Duke wants to have a conversation with Danny’s godfather. Maybe bring the other Robins along to make sure the message sinks in: Don’t touch Danny.

But Danny, acting so casual about his godfather trying to kill him, would be unhappy about it, and Duke would really rather be able to take care of him than be shut out for trying to take control of the situation.

“Shit, man, that sucks,” he offers, instead of prying for details so he can hunt down his godfather. “You want a hug or something? I can’t really do much else, but if it can make you feel better about all this…”

Danny brightens and shoves the first aid kit away, his shirt (one of Duke’s old ones he offered up to replace the bloodstained one) falling to cover the bandage. “Please. I would love a hug, dude, I don’t remember the last time I felt so lonely.”

Carefully, Duke wraps his arms around Danny, leaning back so Danny could relax fully and not worry about holding himself up. Danny sighs into the hug, going fully limp as he drops his forehead onto Duke’s shoulder.

“Thanks for this. And everything,” Danny says some time later. He doesn’t move to pull away, so Duke stays as he is, watching the weak sunlight slowly move across the warehouse as it spills in from dirty windows. 

“You don’t need to thank me. I mean, I’m a Robin.” He brings up a hand to tap a finger against the R embroidered into his jacket. “It’s what we’re here for.”

.

.

.

It’s been years since he saw Danny. After he was fully healed, Duke helped him get to city limits, watching as he boarded a bus and disappeared down the road, leaving his life just as suddenly as he entered it.

After spending so much time together, quiet hours of stillness just looking out for each other, his life feels emptier without Danny in it. He knew it wouldn’t last, that Danny would go home eventually, but it didn’t make the parting any easier.

Even now, as Signal, taking a break from going on missions with the Outsiders to spend some time with the Bats, his thoughts drift towards Danny, wondering if he’s alright. In his darker moments, he wonders if Danny’s godfather has tried to kill him again, if he’s succeeded. In calmer, happier moments, he remembers Danny’s quiet stories about his family, his town, all his dreams and hopes for the future, remembers the easy company and how Danny didn’t look at him with pity when talked about his parents, just quiet and contemplative. 

Sometimes, he can’t resist the urge to look him up, but there are so many Danny’s out there that he doesn’t know where to start. He never got Danny’s last name or learned when he came from.

It’s not like he can just ask the Bats for help finding a guy he knew for two weeks before he ever joined them. They’re all busy with their own missions, and definitely don’t have time for Duke’s reminiscing. 

“Just caught sight of the truck entering city limits,” Oracle says in his ear. “It’s heading towards the Coventry.”

“On it. Any movement from the mobs?”

“None yet. I expect this to change soon. Red Hood and Black Bat are patrolling nearby if you need backup.”

“Got it. Signal out.”

His comline shuts with a little click, and then he’s grappling over the roof tops, keeping an eye on the roads in search of the truck. He doesn’t have time to think of Danny anymore, not when a shipment of new, experimental weapons is passing through Gotham. Spoiler had heard a few whispers of it and Red Robin helped find more solid details; the mobs are all looking to take the shipment for themselves in an attempt to get the upper hand in the nonstop fight for control of Gotham’s streets. 

It’s passing through during the day, visible and a good move to keep from being ambushed at night, but it’s not enough to stop mobs hoping to take out their competition with new weapons. Duke enters the Coventry just as his comline beeps once and Oracle begins giving him specific directions, along with a brief description of what the truck looks like. 

Apparently, the weapons are being moved in a U-Haul rental truck. That is… certainly a Choice™ to make for moving weapons around the country.

He follows it from the rooftops, but nothing happens. The truck passes through the Coventry without incident and takes a turn that keeps it away from Crime Alley and the Bowery. It gets to the middle of East End then pulls to a stop in the parking lot of a diner. 

Two people get out and stretch, then head in to get something to eat.

It would be the perfect time for someone to break in. Duke pulls the light over himself, manipulating it to make him disappear from sight as he looks down from the edge of the rooftop, tense and prepared for anything.

He almost doesn’t see it at first. It’s just a flicker, a flash of color, a shift in the shadows across the street. But he does see it, even if he can’t find it again, and drops down from the roof, creeping towards the truck.

Duke waits, holding his breath, off to the side of the parking lot. 

A minute passes. And then a figure materializes out of thin air, floating right behind the truck. All Duke can see is white hair and a black body suit; they’re either a meta or an alien, but either way, Duke is ready to take them down.

The figure lifts their hands and a bolt of neon green energy hits the truck, melting the back and leaving a large hole that gives them direct access to the weapons. And then they shoot again, destroying the weapons.

“Phantom!” someone shouts, and the truck driver comes tearing out of the restaurant, a white gun in his hand. His companion follows, her gun also out, and the begin shooting. 

Phantom dodges the blasts, then vanishes from sight. He reappears behind them a moment later, tackling back of them into the side of the truck. 

“No you don’t!” Duke say, rushing forward as he pulls at the shadows around him then sends them racing towards Phantom, restraining them. The driver and his companion collapse onto the ground, groaning weakly, and Duke grits his teeth. “O, send someone to look after the people moving the weapons. Apprehending an attacker now.”

He doesn’t wait to hear a response, tightening the shadow’s grip on Phantom, who struggles fiercely.

“We can do this the hard way, or the easy way,” he says, pulling Phantom closer to him.

Phantom doesn’t answer. They just scream, the force of it making Duke fall back. His shadows dissipate, and Phantom flies up.

“Get back here!”

Duke gives chase, dropping in and out of shadows, throwing some at Phantom in the hopes of catching him again. But Phantom is fast and it takes all he has to keep up as they cross Gotham.

He thought Phantom was flying around blindly, but the way they move across the roofs and then through the streets are too confident, too focused to be anything other than someone with a destination in mind. But where? Where could they be going? If they’ve been in Gotham, then Duke would have heard of them.

A flying, powerful meta with a multitude of powers? Yeah, he would have known about them.

Phantom flies through a wall and Duke curses, going onto the roof and looking around, waiting to see them fly out. But they don’t and Duke finds a broken skylight to drop in from, landing on the support beams of the warehouse, well above the ground.

He knows the warehouse, he realizes suddenly. It’s the warehouse Danny hid in while he was healing. Duke hasn’t been back in years.

“Just listen to me, please,” a voice says behind him, and Duke tense, spinning around to face Phantom, floating just out of reaching distance. “Those weapons are dangerous. No one should have them, it’s why I had to destroy them. Please, you can’t let them get those weapons out.”

Duke stares. Something about Phantom is familiar. The shape of his face, maybe. His voice. Maybe it’s just because he’s in the warehouse again, with someone pleading for his help.

Maybe it’s all in his mind.

“Danny?”

Phantom flinches, floating back a few inches. “What— How—”

“What happened? Is it your godfather again?”

“My— Duke? Is that you?!”

He definitely shouldn’t be doing this, but Danny’s here. Danny’s here in front of him, needing help, and he doesn’t need the Signal. He needs Duke.

He pulls off his helmet and lifts his bare face to Danny.

“Oh,” Danny breathes. “Well. I guess I should have known you’d be a hero. Can you help me one last time?”

“Yeah, of course Danny. Tell me what you need.”

“Those weapons, they were first made to kill me and others like me. It’s a whole thing I don’t have time to explain. But they’ve been changed to affect humans, all types of people, as well. I can survive a few hits from those weapons, but for most people, it would kill them instantly. I need to destroy all of them and stop any further production before the rest of the world gets a hold of them.”

“That’s why you—”

“They have to be destroyed,” Danny says. “And the people making and selling them need to be stopped. I can’t do it on my own. I’ve tried, but…”

“I’ll help,” Duke says, “I’ll help. This is a big enough problem to bring the Outsiders into it. Or the Bats, but they like to stay in Gotham.”

Danny floats closer, looking painfully relieved. “Really? They’ll be able to put an end to this?”

Duke reaches for him. “Yeah. they can do it. I’ll make sure of it.”

Danny’s feet land on the support beam as his hand meets Duke’s. They balance above the rest of the warehouse, drinking in the sight of each other. Duke rubs his thumb over Danny’s knuckles in soothing circles and watches as the tension begins to fall away from Danny’s shoulders.

“Duke,” he whispers, “I’ve missed you—”

The door below is kicked open, and a gunshot rings out. 

Moving on instinct, Duke tackles Danny, wrapping him up in his arms as they fall off the support beam. They hit the ground hard, rolling a bit, and Duke tucks Danny into his chest, bodily protecting him.

“Narrows!” 

The Red Hood stands over him, menacing, a gun pointed at him. 

“Hood?” He loosens his grip on Danny. “What the hell was that for?” 

“Thought you needed back up. You chased after our guy and lost your helmet, I think I’m right to be a little worried about you. So, who’s this?” There’s a hard edge to his voice, and Duke realizes with a sinking heart that all anyone else sees is an aggressor, a meta who attacked a truck full of weapons, attacked two people, and had to be chased down by the Signal. Jason’s seeing a threat and acting accordingly, putting Duke’s safety first. 

And with his helmet off, identity clear, Danny’s even more dangerous now that he has this knowledge.

“I’m sorry,” Danny whispers to Duke. He doesn’t have time to ask for what? before Danny’s shooting another beam of green energy at Jason then taking off, flying through the roof and out of sight.

“Shit,” Jason mutters, straightening up from where he ducked to avoid being hit, then puts his gun away and kneels next to Duke. “You alright? Why’d you let him go? I thought you had him.”

“I’m fine. He’s not… He wasn’t going to hurt me. He just needed help.”

“Sure. And what are you not telling me?”

“I knew him. He’s a good person, but he’s been in danger for a long time. This was him trying to protect others from what he went through.”

Jason takes off the helmet and stares at him. Then he sighs and reaches a hand down to help Duke to his feet. “Alright,” he says, “Let’s head back to the truck. You have until then to convince me that they’re the problem, and if they are, then I’ll help you blow up more of their weapons.” He claps a hand on Duke’s shoulder, then pulls his helmet back on. “Grab your helmet. We’re wasting daylight, Narrows.”

There’s nothing else he can do, no way to search for Danny when there are other leads to chase, so Duke grapples up to the catwalk where his helmet landed and grabs it.

Just before he puts it on, he sees a flicker of white just outside the window he’s facing. He ducks his head to hide a smile. It’s almost like he’s stepped back in time; Danny’s here in Gotham, needing help and asking for it in the warehouse. 

And though so much has changed in those years, there’s still one thing that Duke will ensure never changes: he’s Danny’s hero. Above Robin, or Signal, or anything else, Duke is Danny’s hero.

This time, he has the power to actually help Danny. He’s going to make sure no one ever hurts Danny again.

“Let’s go,” he says, jumping back down to Jason, helmet on. “I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

[cchipollo]

@technicolor-dreamss and i made another au..... romcom au. he has more drawings in his instagram post CHECK IT OUT

um. more explanation below

i was telling mark i reckoned this au was a combination of a modern (late 2000s) au, human q au, college au, lawyer au. um. picard liking q back au.

basic gist is months ago beverly's husband jack dies after a nasty work accident. so shes attempting to press charges or sue or whatever the legal word for that is but the company jack worked at (ferengi stand ins) repeatedly pressures every lawyer she hires.

picard bumps into q one day and spills tea on him and q's like “oi dick watch where you're going i have to go to court” and picard's annoyed but he shrugs it off. then they keep bumping into each other after that

q starts cyberstalking picard on facebook on their 2nd meeting and hands him his business card at like. the 2nd or 3rd meeting

anyway, so the statute of limitation or whatever is running out on the whole case against this company and beverly's like "i wont be able to get justice for jack if i cant find a lawyer who's willing to stick with me" and picard eventually is like wait. hm.

he calls up q and is like i need your help

hilarity ensues ! yahoo !

other than. well literally every other change theres a couple of changes within the characters relationships with each other, like vash has only dated q and only meets picard after q does.

of course jack dying way later. it might be worse for wesley this way now that i think about it. sorry wes

[goodneighborxfallout]

I just found your blog, it's really cool you're doing this!

Anyway, how do you think the companions would react to Sole being seriously injured/nearly dying?

Thanks for requesting! Sorry it took me so long to write this.

Cait: “Shit, shit, shit! You better not die on me, Sole!” she’ll curse while picking you up from the ground and hauling you over to the nearest doctor she can find. She will threaten and beat up anyone to get you the help you need as fast as possible. 

Codsworth: “Sir/Mum, please hold on!” Codsworth will frantically try any sort of first aid he can to stabilize you. He won’t admit it to himself, but he is not optimistic about your survival chances because his Mr. Handy body does not allow him to pick you up and get you help. He’ll have to find a way to get help to you and that will take double the amount of time. 

Curie: Curie will be the most calm and collected. Being a doctor, she has experience patching people up and she knows panicking will only make things worse. With Curie by your side, you are in good hands. She’ll do whatever she can with the current equipment she has and once you are stabilized she will bring you to either a hospital or a friendly settlement to nurse you back to health completely. 

Danse: Danse might freeze for a second. Instinctively, he recalls Brotherhood protocol but he hesitates because he also knows how harsh that protocol can be. You are not just any soldier, you’re you, and no part of him is willing to risk you dying just because the protocol doesn’t care for your survival as much as he does. So instead, he’ll forgo protocol, forgo the mission in general if necessary and bring you to safety. 

Deacon: “It’s just a flesh wound. Carrington will patch you right up,” is what he tells you to keep you calm, but he himself does not believe it. Your condition is a lot more severe than he is letting on and he has to try hard not to openly panic. Luckily, Deacon knows his way around the Commonwealth pretty well, so he’ll pick you up and take the fastest and safest way back to HQ, all the while cracking some lighthearted jokes to keep you smiling. 

Gage: Raiders are mostly not known for their medical skills. The lifestyle Gage chose is one where death is accepted. However, raiders often also stock up on drugs. He himself is not a fan of it, but he does know where others hide their caches around Nuka World. So he’ll give you some buffout and med-x, and then haul you over to the nearest doctor after which he goes off on his own for a bit. Gage normally doesn’t care when others die, but seeing you close to death made him panic, which made him realize that he’s grown attached to you. He is not sure how he feels about that and needs some time alone to reflect. 

Hancock: First and foremost, Hancock will get you to safety and bring you to a doctor for help. He’ll stay really calm during this. He won’t show you how he feels and he’ll just focus on reassuring you with comforting words. However, he also won’t stick around when the doctor is treating you because he will be hellbent on getting revenge on the people who dared to hurt you.  “You’re in good hands here, Sunshine. I have to go take care of something.” 

Longfellow: “Told you the island would eat you alive,” he mumbled while dragging you back to the doctor in Far Harbor. Longfellow hasn’t gotten attached to someone in a long time, and even though he likes your company, he always kept himself shielded. Of course, he hopes that you’ll pull through, but he’s not panicked or upset. Most people die in the fog, so why not you too? 

MacCready: Mac is a survivor. He’s been fighting since he was a little kid and he’s found himself in countless hazardous situations. Therefore, MacCready is wise enough to not go out without some healing supplies on hand. Still, he panics seeing someone he cares for so dangerously hurt, and will fumble around looking for a stimpak in his backpack, finally emptying all its contents out onto the ground to find it more easily.  

Nick: “I ain’t gonna lie kid, it’s not looking good. How are you feeling? You think you can walk?” Nick has lived a long life - even if doesn’t see all of his memories as his own -, he’s lost a lot of people and in his line of work a happy ending is mostly not the outcome. That doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care or that he won’t try everything he can to save you, it just means he’s good at staying calm and collected during these kinds of situations. 

Piper: “You’re not going to die out here, Sole! I promise!" Piper will quickly administer a stim, then put your arm over her shoulder and drag you to the nearest doctor. She’ll try to remain calm but small things give away that she’s panicking, like having trouble aiming her gun right at enemies along the way, and losing her temper at every obstacle you encounter. 

Preston: “Come on, general! You can pull through!” Preston will be terrified of losing you. While carrying you to the closest doctor around, he’ll still beg anyone he meets along the way for help. 

Strong: “Human fight well! Now die like warrior.”  

X6-88: “The Institute needs you, sir/ma’am.” He’ll administer a stimpak and will then ask you to teleport back to the institute for further treatment.

[hazshit-hotel-hater]

I’M STUCK ON THIS FUCKING PLANET. I’M STUCK ON THIS GODDAMN EARTH.

Tap photo for better quality

That’s right!! I’m talking even more about sinner bodies because I’m CRAZY!!! RAAHHH!! 🤪 SHES SO CRAZY WE CANT TAKE HER ANYWHERE!! 😝 it’s 3 in the morning and I can’t stop thinking about this goddamn TV.

I think Vox is genuinely the most fucked up character in this rewrite currently. Not really morally fucked up, there’s definitely worse people, but physical alterations in hell out of the main cast he definitely has it the worst. In my last post I talked about how Angel formed in hell and I want to go back to this because Vox did not form in hell as a TV or even a robot at all. He got formed on the road after dying in a car crash and was literally just this fucked up clump of wires and metal panels and had gross little robot hands and he had to make everything else himself and wait for his body to adjust to it, so he literally cannot regenerate normally. He didn’t even have a face yet or screen of any kind, just a little camera to see out of. If his screen shatters he needs to get a new one or if his body breaks he needs to get it repaired, thats why he’s able to upgrade his body and stuff.

And like yeah some tech sinners do just form as robots but Vox just is a fucking mess and I think about it all the time and thats why his demon form is all fucked up like that and I think thats partially another reason he hates Alastor’s ideals so much sometimes because hes like “technology bad!” even though he literally is also partially a tech sinner and hes just stupid but like without technological advancements Vox literally would have nothing like they wouldn’t’ve met, Vox would not have a company, etc, etc and thatd probably help a lot of people yeah like the Vees would not fucking exist but ignoring that, just on a personal relationship scale I imagine your “friend” being like “man I really hate the thing that gives you life and allows you to live a somewhat normal existence” hurts a bit.

Technological regeneration is a bit more confusing and hard to explain than biological regeneration since machinery can’t really “heal” in real life. The concept sounds almost bewildering, like you can’t cut a wire and have it slowly heal like skin would, you’d need a whole new wire. But Vox internally, the things that allow him to move and live how he does now, it’s the only part of him that he can heal, and to him, it’s still “defective”.

Vox is disabled mentally and physically; he has Autism, ADHD, and epilepsy, all of which he is unable to be medicated for due to his new body. These are all things that he hates to acknowledge and will become irrationally upset by if they are mentioned to the point he will actively to deny certain aspects of disability. Being a man from the 1900’s-1950’s his views on mental disabilities and mental illnesses are… less than uh.. “acceptable” for today’s standards. He often disregards slurs towards this being called slurs and insists that “They used to just be words” or “It’s a medical diagnosis.” yet still gets incredibly upset when he is ever called a slur that actually could apply to him. In a way he tries to come off as purposely ableist so that he doesn’t have to confront this aspect of himself that he doesn’t understand. His knowledge in technology or sharks or economics aren’t “special interests” to him, they’re just “regular things a man likes”. He can’t process what a hyperfixation is. He doesn’t know that it’s normal for him to be unable to speak on occasion or that certain textures make him severely uncomfortable. These are either seen as weaknesses or “average people things”. Aside from how terribly disabled people were treated back around the 50’s, he views the neurodiverse aspect of his mind as something that only serves to further push him from grasping the feeling of regular humanity again.

For physical disabilities, he doesn’t lie or deny that he has epilepsy, yes he has an intense disdain for mentioning it, but for very few people he is close with he will disclose this information to them privately. There are a very select few people that are aware of this and two of those people are Velvette and Alastor. This post isn’t really about diving into Vox’s epilepsy so I’m keeping this concise because I have another post to put all of that in. Hope you all enjoy the wacky art :)

The binary says “Trust us” for anyone curious

[lilacgaby]

lucky me.

prohero!kirishima x reader

you always seemed to attract bad luck, yet you think your life might be turning around as you reconnect with light itself.

today was going horrible, just like every other day.

because of your quirk, luck, everyone's luck around you would be exponentially boosted. everyone, even the people who you hated would be lucky if they were within a 20-mile radius of you. you couldn't control it.

every single lottery won has been because someone was close to you, paychecks would come early, coins would always flip on heads, everyone in your class would always pass exams.. you get the deal.

the drawback? you'd have horrible luck your entire life.

as a kid, you'd trip and scrape your knees everyday. under pressure your voice would crack, or the tears you'd been attempting to hide would come out bursting, making you shake as you tried to speak.

the swings you'd use would snap, the slides would always burn you. your shoelaces would untie and make you fall. you'd always fall flat on your nose and have your nose bleed at the worse times. the only refuge from this? eijiro, who never seemed to mind. he'd call you brave for still doing those things despite knowing you'd get hurt.

he admired you, developing rose-tinted glasses for all things surrounding you over the years. in junior high, he'd hang around you still. he was a bit shy himself at this age, but he never failed to help you.. even as you tripped into a garbage can for the third time this week.

you hung out constantly, you were always at his home and his two mothers adored you. always up in his room as he tried to sing, as he fanboyed over crimson riot with you. you were even the one who dyed his hair, much to his mother's disdain.

you were there when he got accepted into U-A, he hugged you, calling you his good luck charm.

but after that, it seemed life had finally had to take the one good thing in your life away from you. obviously, you couldn't attend U-A, you had slept in the day general studies took their entrance exams, so you ended up in some run of the mill high school that didn't specialize in anything in particular.

eijiro was born a star, you knew it was pointless to love someone like that. someone who was destined for something more than you can dream of.

so you let your friendship die. as his messages to you came fewer and fewer, you let the memories of the good times he'd bring to you be the only remnants of your relationship, so that you could let him fly like he deserved.

after a quirk consultation way too late in your life, you managed to decrease your bad luck by 50%. it made all the difference in your life, allowing you to be in the middle top of your class, and let you get a job as a quirk consultant yourself.

you worked your way up for years, finally getting your bad luck down to 22%, just low enough to start your own consultant company that focused on quirks that would harm the users and cause prejudice against them.

everything was finally good. you were finally happy.

until red riot came crashing through the windows of your front door, the fight entering the office that was thankfully closed since it was a sunday.

"hey! what the hell?!"

"sorry 'bout that! watch out!"

there was a slab being chucked in your direction, just as it was about to hit.. red riot blocked it with a bit of hardening from his quirk. his face was colored with recognition as he saw you, but first,

"[name]?? wait, let me beat this guy first-"

"don't do it in my office!"

"too late for that--"

the villain, a sledgehammer.. man(?), had started removing huge pieces of cement from the inner workings of your wall. before he could get to attacking, your luck started to go to work. because of your consultations, you could now choose who your luck would effect,

but it'd bring your bad luck back to 100%.

eijiro, now unbreakable, easily beat the guy. he carried him out to the streets full of police that took him into custody.

he went back to normal, looking back at you. you were reeling, looking at the months worth of damage done. he went up to place a hand on your shoulder.

"i-im real sorry [name]. but hey, at least i got to see you right?"

"my company is destroyed."

"y-yeah, but hey! could be worse! you could be uh-- dead or something."

you sighed at that. "i guess you're right.. thanks red ri--"

"eijiro." he corrected, adamant as he held you by the shoulders.

"eijiro. thank you for saving my life.. even if my place is wrecked. and my favorite elephant pot too.." he looked genuinely distraught at not having been able to see the pot. "hey, i have an idea to get cheered up!"

she looked hopeful, wanting a moment away from the legal mess she'd have to go through to request funds to rebuild her place. "what is it?"

- - -

so he invited you on a date. can you blame him? you looked even more beautiful than he remembered.

he had the biggest crush on you since junior high. he just thought you were the cutest thing, you were so nice, so sweet to him. everytime you did everything his heart would leap out of his chest.

and this rang true at the date he organized at his new house: a large mansion, decked out in a classier version of his favorite 'manly' style of furniture, with the help of an interior designer of course.

he let you inside, he was letting you sleep in one of his spare rooms since your apartment that was on the second floor of your office was now deemed unsafe.

he had a small, yet probably more expensive than your house itself, dinner prepared for you two.

there were more dishes set out on the table than you think you've had your entire life. as you two caught up, laughed, and slowly became more comfortable like you used to be, he felt his heart soar.

you noticed your bad luck was dropping even faster than it would normally in his presence. it had already become 21% from 100%.

it took you a year to get it that low the first time. you looked at the ceiling thoughtfully, being pulled out of your thoughts by eijiro's joke flexing.

he brought out the final meal. as you two shared a comically huge piece of cake, you laughed at the realization.

he was your good luck charm, as much as your were his.

[benedictscanvas]

pick me up at seven - roy kent x reader

pairing: roy kent x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k (they won't all be this long i don't think!!)

warnings: language of course, and this is a little steamy but with no actual smut. my favourite genre HA

request: I can’t find any good Roy fics until your recent one and I’m dying for more 😭 Anyway you could write something else for him? Maybe they’re at a bar and he gets pissed when he sees Jamie flirting w her? (Not a pre established relationship) - @kashee-h

a/n: your wish is my demand!! i'm so happy you enjoyed the first roy fic of what i hope are many to come. this one totally got away from me, i loved writing it so so much, thanks for a request that I really got to make my own! <3

---

Roy is the one who’s invited you here. Roy is the one who trekked over to your office at the end of the working day and told you that everyone was going out that evening. Roy is the one who suggested you come, even when you seemed reluctant to join in on what appeared to be an evening for just the players and the coaches. Roy is the one who convinced you that it would be fun, that he’d make sure of it.

All of this is making it very hard for Roy to accept that you are currently sat in a corner booth with someone else. The fact that the person you seemed to be having such an in depth conversation with was Jamie fucking Tartt was the icing on a very shit cake.

He knew he could be having a better night than just sitting on a barstool trying not to watch the two of you, especially when Ted and Beard arrived to get the next round and he didn’t even acknowledge them. They’d hired out a private room, so it was filled with people he generally tolerated the company, some he’d even go as far as to say that he liked. None of that was registering, however. 

Jamie leans in when you can’t hear something he’s said and he watches you nod solemnly, duck your head to stare at the floor as if flustered, and he wants to walk right out that door and never come back. Maybe he could get a job at Chelsea, or something.

“Now, what’s wrong, Jeremy Strong?” Ted asks, and Roy has to bite back a ‘fuck off’ so hard he wonders if his lip is bleeding, “You look just about ready to start wreckin’ the place.”

Out of the corner of Roy’s eye, he sees Beard lean in to whisper in Ted’s ear and points over at you. Ted looks surprised. Roy does not want to deal with this.

“You’re telling’ me our very own Mr Kent has his eyes on our very own Miss Y/L/N? Well, that’s just great! She’s sweet as anythin’, good for you, Roy.”

“She’s sweet on Jamie fucking Tartt, more like,” he says, even though he knows he’s being so fucking unfair. He hates it about himself. He knows how hard he’s worked on these feelings, on frustration and anger and jealousy, knows that a few years ago he’d be getting ready to fight Jamie down an alley further through tonight. Now he’s done that work, however, he can recognise the overriding feeling that he’s actually just hurt and that’s so much worse. It’s much easier to be jealous than upset.

“Does this call for an impromptu meeting of the Diamond Dogs?” Ted asks brightly and Roy is only able to stop him after his second howl. Higgins has looked over briefly but Beard signals him to stay where he is.

“Fuck no,” Roy blurts out, then reconsiders. Maybe he could at least talk to Ted, “I just- I was going to tell her. Tonight.”

“Tell her what?” Ted’s doing that thing where he bats his eyelashes like he’s in some sort of rom-com. Beard’s got his head resting in his hand, looking similarly up at Roy. They’re insufferable. 

“That I fucking like her, okay? Take those fucking looks off your faces.”

Ted and Beard scramble to look normal but come up short. Ted’s got the awful kind of shit-eating grin on his face that he gets when he sees Sam and Jamie hugging or watches Isaac doing his handshakes with everyone before a game.

“So, you’ve been spending time together? Or are you telling her out of the blue?” Beard pipes up.

Roy thinks that over. You’ve been spending a lot of time together actually. More than anyone at the club would probably even believe. He slips away to your office to eat lunch under the guise of needing a break from the American Circus downstairs. You text him when you’ve brought in ice cream because you know he’ll never say no to ice cream. You’ve met Phoebe. That one was by accident in the park, but you stuck around for four fucking hours and nobody made you.

Still, he wonders whether it would be completely shocking to you or whether you’ve been waiting for him to make a proper move. You’re incredibly difficult to read alongside being so stupidly pretty that sometimes he wants to swear less around you. He doesn’t manage it, of course, but he thinks it.

“Yes, we’ve spent time together. No, I don’t know what that means. Probably doesn’t mean shit to her, not that it would be her fault if she doesn't.”

Ted and Beard tilt their heads simultaneously at him and he wishes he could bash their heads together for a moment.

“But it means somethin’ to you, hey coach? I don’t think Miss Y/N sittin’ with Jamie should stop you from tellin' her how you feel about ‘er, hey coach?”

Roy’s lost track of which coach Ted is even talking to, but Beard chimes in.

“Surely her spending time with Jamie should be all the more incentive to tell her. Find out how she feels. Get that crushing disappointment out of the way now. It’s only downhill from here.”

Roy raises a brow at him as Ted gives him a look. Beard sighs, then picks up his drink and seems to disappear. Ted leans into Roy.

“Him and Jane are on a break again, I’m sorry. Look I’m goin’ to have to go find him but he was right, until he wasn’t. Go get ‘er, Ross Gellar!”

And with that, Ted’s gone too, weaving his way through crowds of people until he’s lost to them. When Roy glances back in your direction, Jamie’s got Colin and Isaac beside him instead and you’re nowhere to be found. He sighs and stands from his barstool, making his way to the exit. Maybe he’d think about what Ted and Beard had said tomorrow: for now, he just wanted to go home.

Except for the fact that when he finally managed to push his way outside to breathe in some fresh air, he found you. Leaning against the wall of the club, with definite tears in your eyes, even under the dim street lamp light. He was going to murder Jamie Tartt, slowly, with rope and paint and suffering involved.

But he knew to take a slightly softer approach with you. If at all possible.

“Hey,” he says quietly, trying not to startle you. You're quick to look up at him, startled anyway, and he grits his teeth as he asks, “Are you alright?”

He doesn’t make any comment about what the fuck Jamie had done to you. Doesn’t think it would be received all that well. Again, he’s biting the inside of his lip harder than ever.

“Yes! Oh god, yes, sorry,” you’re blinking furiously. He admires your resolve when the nearly teary face is quickly replaced by that bright smile that makes him weaker in the knees than he already is, “Fuck, sorry. I’m all good. I’m not sure this is my scene, I was just going to call a taxi.”

There’s an opening. He’ll be damned if he’s not taking it, even though confessing anything is the furthest idea from his mind - he’s much more focused on making sure you’re okay and nobody’s done anything to hurt you. If they have, he's already resigned to a short stint in jail if necessary.

“Do you want to walk?”

“Uh, I mean not really. It’s quite late, so…”

“With me, I mean,” he quickly clarified, wanting to bash his head against the brick wall, “I could walk you home, if you wanted. Or not. That’s fine too.”

“Oh, right,” you’re looking down at your feet as you contemplate it, “That would be nice, if you’re sure. Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” he insists, falling into step beside you as you begin to walk. He wants to give you his jacket and maybe his shirt too with the way you’re shivering, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s a fucking coward, but he will get to the bottom of what’s the matter if its the last thing he does, “You gonna tell me what’s wrong now?”

You huff out a frustrated sigh, at him, at yourself, he isn’t sure.

“I made a fucking fool of myself tonight,” you say eventually, and he can’t even imagine you doing that, “I thought…god, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Everything just feels worse when its…1:30 in the morning, don’t you think?”

You’d lifted his hand to check his watch before you said the time. Again, he wanted to hold on, but he let you drop his hand and it just went limp.

“It fucking does, yeah. Don’t think you could make a fucking fool of yourself if you tried though. Not around us lot.”

Your family, he heard Ted’s voice in his head. He was not fucking saying that. To his surprise, you let out a loud bark of a laugh at his words and he was staring at the side of your face as you spoke out into the dark air.

“I thought you were coming to pick me up tonight, you know?” you began, and his heart drops to his shoes. You’re upset about him?

“What?”

“Something you said earlier, when you asked me to come. You asked where I lived, then told me it would be a twenty minute walk to get there. Then you said ‘see you at seven’.”

He could have stopped walking. He had said that, but he was just trying to help you plan out your timings for the evening - you’d mentioned to him once that you were known for having some time blindness when you were getting ready for things. Of course he should have realised how fucking stupid that was, how much that sounded like he would come and walk with you.

He would have fucking loved to walk with you.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed, far too loudly for the quiet night that surrounded you. You carried on undeterred, shaking your head. He could see your frustration was at yourself now, and he hated himself even more than he had earlier.

“My fault for assuming, I know. But that’s why I was so late. And when I arrived, trying talk myself into not feeling like a twat, you were already over with Dani and Isaac and Bumbercatch, clearly never intending to come pick me up. Which, why would you, of course. I just…felt shit. Jamie tried to help, bless him, but I just wanted to go home, honestly.”

Roy is the biggest idiot on the planet. He wants to go back into the club and hug Jamie for looking after you, then ask him to punch him in the face. Roy could punch something, anything right now, but he just grits his teeth.

“I’m-” he grunts when his voice comes out all strangled, “I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N. I’m the fucking twat. I was asking where you lived and that to help you with that fucking time blindness thing you told me about. Should’ve known how it sounded though. Fucking idiot.”

He directed the last comment at himself, kicking a stone he’d found on the pavement. He kept his eyes firmly trained on his shoes as the two of you continued walking, now at a significantly slower pace. Your eyes were burning a hole in the side of his face.

There was a silence that stretched on as you stared at him, until-

“Fucking hell,” you groaned, “That’s so fucking sweet. You’re the worst.”

He doesn’t know if he can remember being called sweet before. Phoebe was often excessively complimentary of him in a way that made him uncomfortable, but sweet had never come up. He didn’t feel sweet.

“I am the worst,” he grunted, spiralling, “Making you feel so shit. Ruining your fucking night. I was the one who convinced you in the first place and now you’ve had a shit fucking time and I’m the worst.”

He’s a little out of breath and loud again by the end of his rant. The two of you have stopped walking. You kick the toe of your heel against his shoe, placating.

“No, you’re the worst ‘cause you keep giving me all this hope. I fucking hate hope, no matter what Ted says,” you chuckle to yourself, and he’s not sure what you’re saying but he’s peering into your now smiling expression as he tries to work it out, “Look, do you like me or not? You’re a good guy Roy and either way, I’m grateful that you’re walking me home. I just think if I ask, maybe I can just feel like a twat for the night and get it over with by tomorrow.”

“Do I…like you?”

He sounds thick. He feels thick. Feels like his mouth is full of honey that his tongue is having to wade through to even speak to you. It’s stuck to the bottom of his mouth, heavy.

“Yeah. As in, do you just enjoy eating lunch with me or do you ever look at me and just want to kiss me? Cause I do that all the fucking time, Roy, but I can’t be arsed to dance around it anymore.”

You look really tired as you stare up at him, but he feels more energised than ever. You’ve both just established that he’s the absolute worst, and yet here he is, with everything he could’ve wanted right in front of him. You, looking fucking gorgeous and looking at him like that? Even getting a job at Chelsea wouldn’t help him against you - he was gone.

There’s a smirk on his face that he can’t bite back as he takes your face in both his hands and revels in the gasp he can pull from you. He should have known you’d be the first to say something. You weren’t the coward he was.

“Let’s not fuck about then, yeah?”

Low and breathy. You respond with a nod so eager that he’s practically grinning when he pulls you in. It’s quickly replaced by a hunger he’s been keeping at bay, allowing his hands to slide into your hair as he deepens the kiss almost as soon as it’s started. He can feel your hands clutching at the lapels on his jacket, but he’s more excited when you throw your arms around his neck instead, tugging on the hair at the base of his head.

He growls and you actually whimper. It’s like he’s been set on fucking fire. Like he’s been struck by lightning.

When he pulls away for air, you stay close, peppering kisses along the scruff of his jaw, up the side of his face and back down again. He holds you to him tightly around your waist and feels wanted. He’s wanted you for so long, but to be wanted in return, so openly, it’s both hot and meaningful. He’s not sure anyone’s ever told him they liked him before. Most models he’d dated were pretty sold on the idea that he had to make all the moves.

Still, when you begin trailing kisses down his neck and there’s a hand on the top button of his shirt, he has enough sense about him to stop you. Even if he really doesn’t want to.

“I don’t know what street this is,” he breathes out, low voice little more than a rumble, “But maybe we don't give your neighbours a fucking show.”

You look thoroughly kissed when you look back at him, but he doesn’t think it’ll ever be enough. He leans in to kiss you once more to punctuate his sentence, watching as you duck your head, all shy, even though your arms are still around him. He knows now that when you ducked your head with Jamie, you were embarrassed. This is you properly flustered and it’s one of his favourite looks on you.

“Good call, yeah. Okay. I’m- I’m just around this corner, I think.”

“You think?”

“Shut up, you,” you whack him lightly on the shoulder, as the two of you resume walking, “Think you can make it all the way there?”

“I’d carry you if my knee wasn’t fucked,” he admits, watching you with a lopsided smile, “Really fucking like you, by the way. If that wasn’t proof. Thought you should hear me fucking say it.”

You close your eyes in a little half laugh - giddy, he thinks. 

“Well, I did wonder. We’ve spent a lot of time together the last few weeks for someone who doesn’t like spending time with people.”

“Your first clue,” he agrees, taking your hand with pride now as the two of you keep walking, turning the corner towards your house. The pace is a lot quicker than it was before. He hopes he knows why, “I’ll be less of a fucking idiot now. Promise.”

“Eh, don’t worry,” you shrug, letting go of his hand only to thread your arm through his and take hold of his hand again, even tighter, “Nothing sexier than fucking idiots. I like my men with no thoughts behind their eyes.”

He properly laughs at that, head tilted back, feeling your head against his arm as you laugh with him. You slow down, gesturing left. Your house. The two of you walk down the drive until you’re at the door, face to face again and Roy is having a small internal battle.

“Look, I know you said no show for the neighbours,” you begin, almost nervously, “But does that mean a…private show is totally off the table too?”

He watches you picking at your nails. Can’t help it. He pulls you in for another breathless kiss, just to watch you come alive again, confident and fucking into him, however much of a miracle it seems. You pull away this time, clearly keen for an answer, but he groans.

“Tryin’ to be a fucking gentleman, here. Why don’t we do dinner tomorrow? Proper date. And I’ll fucking pick you up.”

You giggle. Still, there’s a glint in your eyes, as you sigh melodramatically.

“That does sound nice. Only thing is, there could be an intruder in here, you know? So, and I’ll only ask once more and then I promise I’ll let you go if you say no, but maybe you should walk me to my bedroom? To make sure I’m safe, you know? And then you can pay for my breakfast in the morning like a good old fashioned gentleman, if you want.”

You’re looking up at him, all hopeful again. His resolve is dwindling. You spin your keys around one finger and its a simple gesture, but it’s the final straw.

“I’m paying for your fucking lunch too,” he growls, diving into you once again. He’s beside himself when he hears you mutter a faint ‘thank fuck’ as you fumble to unlock the door and all but drag him inside.

---

if you've read this far, i fucking love you, you beautiful sunflower <3 requests open for this angry man and his favourite jamie tartt if you're interested!!

[illiterateaffairs]

DISTRACTIONS X | LET ME BACK IN

pairing: jamie tartt x f!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 8,787

summary: jamie’s upset that you’re keeping secrets from him and keeping him a secret. you need to find a way to fix everything.

A/N: Thank you all for your reactions on the last chapter. Even if you’re mad at the reader, I love that you guys care so much about her and Jamie. I hope despite the angst this chapter makes it a bit better...here we goooooo! xo

distractions masterlist | previous chapter  

Something was wrong with Jamie. And you had a feeling it was your fault. 

After you returned from your interview with the publishing house in New York, Jamie started acting differently. He was quiet and distant. When you tried to ask him about it, he brushed you off. At first you thought something had happened, and that he’d eventually tell you what was wrong in his own time. But that was a week ago and he still hadn’t given you any explanation as to what was making him act like this.

You think maybe he’s caught on to your own secrets, such as the job opportunity you still weren’t telling him about. The interview had gone well, so much so, that you were about to have your second. You had talked yourself up to telling him about it before then, but since he was already not talking to you, you didn’t want to make matters worse. Or you were using Jamie’s feelings as a perfect excuse to delay the inevitable. Either way, you weren’t any closer to explaining your behavior than he was explaining his. 

It was eating you up inside. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but you couldn’t bear the answer. You figured he was mad at you for all the secrets surrounding your relationship, and in a perfect world you’d give in and tell him everything. But you seized up every time you thought about doing so. It only made you feel even worse that he was pushing you away, and you were helpless to do anything about it. His behavior hurt you, but you couldn’t help but feel like you deserved it, so you took it. 

It was clear communication was something you both needed to work on.

You also didn’t want to pry too much because you figured AFC Richmond’s upcoming match against Man City was also getting to him. 

In the bits and pieces he’s told you about his dad, you knew he hadn’t seen him since they had it out when they played at Wembley. They were also going to Jamie’s hometown, and the die-hard Man City fans weren’t particularly thrilled when Jamie left the team for his brief reality tv stint. You can’t imagine how all of this is weighing on his chest. You imagine it's pretty hard, and again you just wish he’d come talk to you about it.

Today you decided to try giving Jamie complete space by not reaching out, with the hopes that maybe he would do so himself. In an effort to not sit around and wait by your phone, you go out to lunch with Keeley and Rebecca to enjoy your day off. 

Turns out it's exactly what you needed. Not only were you dying for a good meal - that Rebecca was paying for - you were in desperate need of girl talk. You were thrilled to catch up with both of them, and were even more excited to hear that Rebecca was investing in Keeley’s PR company so it didn’t have to completely shut down. You were also very intrigued when Rebecca made reference to Roy spending the night with Keeley a few nights ago, and upon questioning from both of you, Keeley played coy as to whether that meant her and the brooding football coach were getting back together. 

Unfortunately, that’s when the topic changed to your own romantic endeavors. Both of your friends inquired about how you and Jamie were doing. At first, you plastered on a polite smile, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to convince them everything was okay if you couldn’t even convince yourself. As soon as your faux-smile flips into a wobbling frown, both women sit up and are at the ready to comfort you. 

“We’re actually not great right now,” you choke out, feeling yourself becoming emotional about everything for the first time. Determined not to cry, you bite your tongue, “Jamie’s been distant lately and I’m pretty sure it's my fault.”

“Oh, babe,” Keeley sighs, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, “What makes you say that?”

You take a deep breath, “First, that I’ve still been hesitant to tell everyone about us.”

Rebecca frowns from her seat on the other side of you, grasping your hand, “I’m sure he understands why you want to wait.”

“But I don’t even fully understand why,” you sigh, squeezing her hand, “And it's not just that. I’ve been lying to him about something else, too.”

Rebecca and Keeley remain quiet, giving you the space to admit it yourself. After collecting yourself, you begin to explain how you were interviewing for a literary job in New York, thanks to a friend back home. You told them it was going well, and that you had another interview set up in a couple days, and while you were excited to have a job in your dream career field, there was also something holding you back. And you didn’t want Jamie to worry about you moving away, especially if you didn’t know whether or not that was going to happen yet. But you fear he’s caught on to the sneaking around and is upset with you. 

You take a deep breath, after you word vomit every worry you were feeling. You were staring at the table throughout your whole explanation, and when you finally look up at them, they’re exchanging looks with each other.

“What?” you whisper, “Do you think I’m a horrible person?”

They rush to assure you they do not in fact think you’re horrible at all. They completely understand why you’ve been keeping this to yourself, but admit that it probably isn’t making Jamie feel good that you’re keeping something from him, even though he doesn’t know what it is. 

“I know its scary,” Keeley says softly, now holding on to your other hand, “But I don’t think Jamie will react as badly as you think. Yeah, he’d probably hate the idea of you leaving, but he’s also so supportive of you. You know that.”

You nod, “I do know that. I think it's just the last time I told someone I was with that I wanted to go after a new job, he made me feel like shit.”

Keeley scoffs, “Well that guy was an asshole and he’s not Jamie.”

“I know.” You repeat, firmly this time. Hesitantly, you turn your focus to Rebecca, “What about you? Are you upset that I've been considering another job?”

“Please, I’ve been waiting for this day to come since you started,” Rebecca chuckles, “You and I both knew this was just temporary, until you were in a better place to go after what you really wanted. I’m proud that you’re making those steps now.”

You close your eyes, absorbing her kind words. While it was reassuring to hear, it didn’t make any of this easier. 

“Even if it was supposed to be temporary, that didn’t stop me from finding the best people I’ve ever met,” you squeeze both of their hands, “I don’t want to leave any of you just as much as I don’t want to leave Jamie, even if it's what I’ve always wanted.”

Rebecca and Keeley exchange another look, this time with small smiles forming on their faces.

“What if we told you, you could do both?” Keeley asks mysteriously.

You narrow your eyes, “What? Did you suddenly invent teleportation or something?”

“No, better,” she smiles proudly, “I recently took on a new client who’s an up-and-coming author from Wales, who is signed under this major agency here is London. So, because I’m the best person ever, I reached out to his agent and told her all about you and the book you’re working on, and she’s interested in meeting with you.”

“A literary agent, in the U.K., is interested in meeting with me?” you ask, dumbfounded.

Keeley nods aggressively and Rebecca gives you a huge grin.

“So, if they like my work, they could potentially sign me, and I could stay in Richmond?”

“Yup,” Keeley confirms, “And then when you eventually finish your incredible book, I can be your publicist!”

You laugh in disbelief, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll think about it,” Rebecca says, “We know New York was where you wanted to be and maybe that’s still your dream, and we’d 100% support you. But if staying in Richmond is where you want to be now, you can do that too and still pursue writing.”

“Yeah, we love you, and we just want you to be happy,” Keeley assures, “Although, selfishly, I’d want you to stay here but that's just me.”

“No, I second that.” Rebecca quips.

“But totally no pressure,” Keeley tacks on, and after a beat, the three of you burst into a fit of giggles. 

“Thank you, both,” you smile genuinely, “For everything but mostly being so supportive. I appreciate you looking out for me, and I will definitely consider meeting with that agent.”

“Good,” Rebecca cheers, pulling her hand from yours to clap hers together, “Everything will work out, career wise and with Jamie, too. I know it.”

Keeley squeezes your hand again, before returning to finishing her brunch, and your conversation swings back to what Rebecca has had going on. While you still needed to fix things with Jamie, as well as figure out what the hell you wanted to do with your writing, you had a feeling no matter what happened, everything would be okay. 

Contrary to feeling more confident in your situation, it had only gotten worse. Over the last few days, Jamie had gone from distancing himself from you to completely ghosting you. Your attempts at reaching out weren’t completely ignored, but his responses were minimal and you could tell were excuses. At work he’d avoid you, and when you invited him over, he’d say he was either tired from training or doing extra training. Again, you couldn’t pretend it didn’t sting, but you tried to push it all away, hoping after the Manchester game, he’d start feeling differently. 

Meanwhile, you were also grappling with not one, but two job opportunities. The one Kara presented was in your dream city, but the one Keeley offered would keep you here with your new found-family. Both were appealing, but both scared the shit of you. Moving to yet another city was a big deal, but staying in one just for someone else was a mistake you’ve made before. Not that Jamie was at all like Mason. You knew that above all else. But it was still something to consider. Plus, it was anxiety inducing having two of your friends get you these chances that felt a little unearned, especially with how you’ve been handling everything. It was a lot to process, and the one person who usually helps you relax was avoiding you. By no fault but your own. 

Jesus, you were getting no work done today, with all of these other problems taking up space in your brain. Plus you were hiding from Ted’s mom in an effort to keep your secret, because she in fact did not know about everything. 

“Oi!” you jump at the sound of your office door being busted open, a booming voice accompanying it, “You need to fix your boyfriend.”

With your hand over your chest, trying to settle your racing heart, you give Roy Kent an apprehensive look, your eyes flitting to the hallway behind him.

Roy rolls his eyes, “Most of the team has cleared out for the night. No one’s going to hear us.”

Still, he invites himself into the room and pushes the door shut rather aggressively, before plopping himself down in the seat across from yours with his arms crossed.

You calm down a bit, but you still feel nervous with the glare he was giving you. Did his eyebrows get thicker?

“What do you mean?” you ask eventually, wondering if you come off like you don’t know exactly what he’s talking about.

“Tartt,” Roy spits out, “He just spent the last fifteen minutes crying into my arms.”

Your face falls, “He did?”

“Yeah. Said he’s lost his wings.”

“Jesus,” you mutter with a frown. “Did he tell you why he feels like that?”

Roy shakes his head, “He says he doesn’t even know.” You bite your lip, breaking eye contact with him. He tilts his head, “Something tells me you might have an idea.”

You sigh, crossing your own arms before looking at him again, “He’s been acting off the last week or so.” Roy nods. “I think it has something to do with the Man City match coming up.”

Roy grunts, “That doesn’t surprise me.”

You hesitate before adding on, “And I probably have something to do with it, too.”

Roy furrows his brows again, “What did you do?”

You grit your teeth, “I think it's more about what I’m not doing. I’ve had some personal stuff I’ve been sorting through recently that I’ve been keeping to myself. And I can tell he’s been wanting to tell everyone about us even though he says it's fine that we’re not.”

“So?” Roy shrugs, “Just fucking tell everyone.”

“It's not that simple.”

“Why not?” he questions, “Are you embarrassed of him or something?”

“No! Of course not. I do want people to know.”

“Then why not tell people?”

“Because every time I think about telling anyone - the team, my family - I get this horrible feeling in my chest and I feel like I can’t breathe. I don’t know why, but it freaks me out.”

Roy’s silent for a second before letting out a “Huh.” Another moment goes by, “You should talk to Ted about that.”

Inwardly you laugh. Oh, how that was only another part of the problem. A problem you still didn’t understand the root of.

“Either way,” Roy continues, “I think you should at least tell Jamie this. He needs you.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” you say, “He’s barely talked to me the last few days, and when he does it's nothing of substance. I want to help him but I don’t know how to get him to let me.”

Once again Roy doesn’t say anything right away. You instead decide to break the silence this time.

“Maybe Keeley would be able to get through to him,” you suggest softly, “She already kind of knows something’s up and she’s known him longer. Maybe he’ll listen to her.”

Roy looks as apprehensive about the idea as you sound, but you both know it's not a bad one. Eventually he nods and stands up.

“I’ll ask her,” he states. You take that as the end of your conversation before Roy turns back in your direction in the doorway, “You’re going to have to talk to him eventually. Jamie may be stubborn and weird and a fucking idiot sometimes, but you’re important to him. He’ll come around.”

You give him a slight smile, though it's a bit forced, and thank him. He nods once, his lip quirking up a bit in what must be his version of a smile, before he disappears down the hall. 

Maybe if you couldn’t fix Jamie someone else could.

Apparently no one knew how to fix Jamie. 

While you hadn’t heard from him into the next day, Roy and Keeley had informed you she’d try to talk to him when everyone arrived in Man City. You waited in the suite you were sharing with her and Rebecca, anxiously hoping she’d come back and announce he was magically doing better. But, when she quietly entered the hotel room, the look on her face told you everything.

“He’s still upset?” You question already knowing the answer.

Keeley regretfully nods, “And I think I made it worse.”

“How could you have possibly made it worse?” you exclaim. 

“I didn’t mean to!” Keeley cries, her hands shaking, “But there’s team movie night, tonight, right? Maybe some time with the team and a good, old-fashioned rom-com will cheer him up.”

“I don’t know, Keeley,” you sigh. You hesitate for a few seconds, before asking, “Did he say anything about me?”

Keeley looks at the carpeted floor, “Not really. I brought you up - said you were worried about him - and he just looked sad and didn’t say anything.”

“Fuck,” you breath out, collapsing backwards on your bed, “Did I break him?”

“No,” Keeley urges, jumping on to the bed beside you, “Trust me it can’t be just your shit. The boy is unhinged right now.”

You snort despite the situation. 

“Come on,” Keeley nudges you, “Let's get a drink, relax a little, go to the movie night and see if we can’t talk to him after, yeah?”

You sigh again, before reluctantly nodding and letting her pull you up and out of the room. 

Jamie needed to clear his head. Contrary to what he had hoped, a team viewing of You’ve Got Mail was not enough to lift his spirits. In fact, he could hardly get through five minutes of the movie without thinking of you. And thinking of you came with a reminder of how you’d been hiding things from him, and then how he’d cowardly been avoiding you instead of facing the problem head on. Of course those anxieties also doubled when he remembered the game he was playing this weekend. 

He felt guilty for shutting you out. Of course he did. He honestly hadn’t meant for it to get this far, he was just trying to figure out how to bring it all up. But then he started spiraling about returning to his home town and seeing his dad that it all became too much. He wanted nothing more than to talk to you about his worries, but you were apart of the reason he was so anxious. He could sense your own guilt - especially during the movie when he could feel your eyes staring at the back of his head. But he was still afraid of where the conversation would lead, so he once again pushed those feelings away. 

Jamie knew there was one place he could go that would instantly make him feel better. And that was his mother’s house.

As soon as the credits rolled, Ted was calling for a 10PM curfew, but Jamie was on his way out. He expertly navigated the streets of Manchester, hoodie pulled over his head to avoid unwanted attention. About halfway through his commute, he caught onto the fact that you, Roy, and Keeley were trailing him. Despite his avoidance of all three of them, he couldn’t help but feel amused that they were trying to sneakily follow him. 

After leading them through a tunnel, in which the trio lost track of him, he doubled back and snuck up on them. Once again, he was satisfied that he’d managed to startle the three, but then he noticed the worry on your face, and he was reminded of the situation you were all in. He briefly considered ordering them away, until Keeley asked if he was buying drugs, so he figured ridding them of any weird suspicions they may have about him would get them off of his back. 

As he led them unknowingly to his mum’s house, he felt a pain in his stomach knowing you were purposely leaving space between the two of you as you followed behind. He wanted nothing more than to take your hand, but just because you felt bad about hiding things from him, didn’t absolve you of everything. 

When they arrived on his street, a few of the neighborhood kids started yelling obscenities at him. Jamie just shook his head, knowing as well that Roy was definitely amused, before walking them over to his house. 

Simon, his step-dad, greets them warmly and Jamie introduces them to his three confused companions. Then before he knows it, his mum is bounding down the stairs and all of his anxiety begins to melt away as she engulfs him into her arms. 

Pulling away briefly, he turns back to see the curious looks on your faces, “Mummy, I’d like to introduce you to my friends, Y/N, Keeley and this hairy prick’s Roy.”

You smile sweetly in recognition as you all greet Jamie’s mom, but Jamie can tell you’re still caught off guard. 

“It’s lovely to meet you all. I’d give you a hug but I’m not letting go of this one,” Jamie’s mom, Georgie, says cheerfully before Jamie picks her up and spins her around.

The lot of you end up in the living room after that, Jamie collapsing in his mother’s arms on the couch as Simon serves the rest of you with some of his homemade sweet treats. After Jamie tells her about the jerks online making fun of his hair, Georgie suggests that Simon give the rest of you a tour of the house. As they all file out, Jamie looks up at you. You give him a tiny smile; one that somehow conveyed guilt, sorrow, and support. Jamie was both happy you were here and scared as hell about where this night was going to go.

Now left alone with his mum, she finally presses Jamie to confess to what has been bothering him. He begins to explain how ever since he stopped playing football to spite his dad, he’s begun to feel like he’s lost his passion; that his heart wasn’t in it. 

Georgie frowns and holds her son closer. She lets him know that whether or not Jamie was the way he was in spite of his father, he was an amazing human. She also admits to how emotional she was when she saw him play for England. She assured him that even if his dad was in the stands tomorrow, drunk and screaming at him, it didn’t matter. He had nothing to prove to him. Even if he was feeling lost, she was positive he’d find his way eventually. 

Jamie instantly felt comforted by his mum’s words, hugging her tighter. He knew that no matter what happened with his dad, he’d always have her and she’d always be his biggest fan. 

After her speech, they sit in silence for a few moments, with his mum brushing her fingers through his hair.

“Jamie, is something else bothering you other than your dad?” she asks softly. 

Jamie plays with the strings of his sweatshirt, not even sure where to begin when it comes to you. He hadn’t told his mum about you officially, but he certainly hadn’t shied away from mentioning you over phone calls the duration that you’d been here. 

“There’s also a girl,” he says slowly, “That I’ve been seeing the last couple months.”

He can feel his mum smirk into his hairline, “One of the girls that came here with you tonight?” Jamie already knows his mum knows about Keeley, but he still clarifies that it's you. “And you like her?”

Jamie sighs. Like doesn’t even begin to cover it. “I’m mad for her.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I think she’s hiding some things from me,” he admits quietly, “And she’s also been keen on keeping our relationship a secret from most of our friends and I dunno why. I’m afraid she’s ashamed of me.”

“But she treats you well? Makes you happy?”

“Yeah.”

“Then she’s probably just scared, babe,” she tries to soothe his worries, “I doubt she’s keeping things a secret for any reason to hurt you.”

“But why would she be scared?” he questions, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to hurt her. I’ve done and said everything to make sure she knows that. Well, up until I started avoiding her the last few days.”

Georgie shakes her head at that last bit, but ignores it, “It doesn’t matter what you say. If voices in her head are telling her otherwise, they’re still going to be louder than any other voice even if it's unreasonable. This is the girl you told me about right? The one with the asshole boyfriend from America?”

“Ex-boyfriend,” Jamie mutters making his mother chuckle.

“She’s probably still reeling from the way he treated her. Even if you prove that you’re not anything like him, it's still gonna take some time for her to fully trust you. Or anyone. You need to be patient with her, love.”

Jamie sighs. He knows she’s right. He has his own voices in his head working against him half the time, he should be more understanding of whatever is going on in your own head. He gets that you’ve been fucked over before, and you’re definitely putting up walls because of it. He just wishes there was something he could do or say that would erase all of the emotional scars you had. But again, maybe that was something you could work on together. He just needed to actually step up and talk to you. 

Even though you and Jamie have been in a rocky place, you are enjoying the tour of his childhood home. There are so many little things throughout the house that give you a glimpse into Jamie’s life, you try to memorize it all. You’re loving everything you learn, that is, until you make it to Jamie’s room and see the poster of Keeley with two footballs covering her breasts. You feel a little weird seeing a picture of your friend and boyfriend's ex in his childhood bedroom, but part of you is equally amused, especially with Keeley’s reaction. And then there’s an old photo of Roy pinned right beside it that completes it all. 

Simon leaves the three of you alone to check on his baked goods in the oven. You eventually excuse yourself to the bathroom in order to gather your thoughts, but also to give Roy and Keeley the chance to talk. You’ve been sensing the tension between them all night, despite their insistence on just being friends.

As soon as you shut yourself in the hall bathroom, you stare at your face in the mirror. You look downright exhausted. And you were. All of the worrying you were doing about Jamie, on top of the shit you were keeping from him, was weighing heavily on you. Seeing him turn into a little kid in the presence of his mom both melted and broke your heart. He was clearly hurting for a million reasons, and it killed you to even be one. It also hurt you when he introduced you to his mom as a friend, but it was your own doing. 

Splashing water on your face, you begin to question everything. Why did you really want to keep your relationship with Jamie a secret? You have half a mind to send an email blast to the entire club right now saying you’re together, but even the half-baked idea makes your stomach hurt. But why? Why couldn’t you just be a normal person and tell the world you had a boyfriend. It wasn’t a big deal.

Except it was. Because it was Jamie. And with all his quirks and occasionally prick-like qualities, you adored him. More than you’ve ever adored anyone. It was the biggest deal in the world and you didn’t want to risk messing it up. 

But you already have. 

That’s it, you decide, staring your reflection down as you dry your face with a hand towel. You were going to tell Jamie everything. About Ted. About your job conundrum. And then once the air was cleared and Jamie - hopefully - still wanted to be with you, you’d hopefully feel better and be able to tell the world. You don't give yourself the chance to change your mind. As soon as you were back in Richmond you would talk. But hopefully you get the chance to at least apologize to him tonight. If he lets you. 

You don’t have to wonder about that long. As you exit the bathroom, you nearly run full force into Jamie, but he gently grabs your arms to steady you.

Your heart doesn’t settle though, as you find yourself alone with Jamie for the first time in what feels like ages. 

“Hi,” you breathe out shakily, studying his eyes for any sign of what he might say to you.

“Hi,” he repeats just as quietly, slowly and reluctantly, removing his arms from around you.

After a few seconds of silence, both of you open your mouths to apologize, but as soon as the words ‘i’m sorry’ leave his lips, you’re frowning.

“Jamie, you have nothing to be sorry for,” you insist, “You’re the one who’s been hurting these last couple weeks, and I have been the one to make it worse.”

Jamie shakes his head, “But I do have a reason. I fucked up. I should have just told you what was bothering me instead of pushing you away. You don’t deserve that.”

“I-”

“You don’t.” he states, leaving no room for argument.

You swallow thickly, “Why did you? Push me away, I mean?”

Jamie shrugs his shoulders, “I think I was afraid if I confronted the issue, that’d you tell me you didn’t want to be with me or something. So I just shoved it all down. But that clearly didn’t help.”

You sigh, “I get that. I still want to be with you, though, just so you know.”

The corner of Jamie’s lips lift, but it's still wobbly, “What has been going on with you then? I know you’re keeping something from me, and I know it has something to do with why you don’t want to tell anyone about us. I want to respect your decision, but it honestly has been killing me not telling anyone.” Jamie’s voice gets small, “Is it me? Are you embarrassed of me? Am I not good enough?”

“No, Jamie,” you step forward and gently place your hands on his face, relieved he doesn’t push you away, “You know that’s not it. I like you so much and I’m proud to be with you.”

“Then why don’t you want anyone to know?”

“You want the honest answer?” He nods. “I don’t know,” you whisper, “It scares me, Jamie. I don’t know why, but the idea of more people knowing makes me even more afraid of losing you somehow. I know that doesn’t make sense, but for whatever reason, keeping to our bubble makes me feel like I can protect us from anything bad happening.”

“Babe?” he quips quietly, “Something did happen. That’s why we’re having this conversation.”

You sigh, defeated, “I know. I told you I’m bad at this.” 

Jamie frowns and wraps you in his arms, “You’re not any worse than me. We just need to talk to each other.”

“Yeah,” you nod into his shoulder, “I promise I have more I want to tell you - and I will actually tell you - but it’d probably be better to do once we’re back home.”

Jamie’s heart swells. He knows you don’t mean anything by the word home, but he can’t help but feel comforted by the phrasing. “That sounds good,” he says softly, pulling back slightly so he can see your face, “Promise me, it's nothing bad. Like, you’re not seeing someone else, and you’re not wanted for murder, right?”

You laugh, despite the weight of the situation, “No, it's none of those things.” 

“Good,” Jamie smiles softly, “And I promise not to ignore you the next time I’m upset.”

“Thank you,” you give him your own watery smile, “Are you going to be okay, tomorrow? At the game, potentially seeing your dad?”

“I don’t know. I hope so,” he answers honestly, “Seeing mum always helps.”

Your smile widens, “Yeah. Your mom is wonderful. I’m really glad you have her.” You brush a few strands of hair out of his face, “I also promise next time we visit it will be under better circumstances, and you won’t have to introduce me as your friend.”

Jamie grins, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” 

“I’m still okay with waiting as long as you need,” Jamie adds, “I’m scared, too. Also eager to brag about my insanely hot girlfriend everywhere I go. But I can wait. As long as you need.”

You giggle, “Thank you.”

“Alright, let’s get Keeley and Roy, and get out of here.” Jamie states, making a move in the direction of his bedroom. However, you tug him back.

“One more thing,” you whisper, before planting your lips on his for a long awaited kiss. When you eventually part, you both smile, “I missed that.”

“Me too,” Jamie nods before pressing his forehead against yours, “Never going that long without doing that ever again.”

You chuckle and agree, before you both part to collect Roy and Keeley. When you reenter Jamie’s room, you find the pair with their hands interlocked. They react as if they were in the middle of something - which they clearly were - but Keeley stands up and drags you out of the room, leaving the boys behind. You make a mental note to ask her about that later. 

Outside o the house, the four of you say goodbye to Jamie’s mom and step-dad. His mom surprises you and gives you an extra tight hug. You have a feeling she probably already knows a thing or two about your relationship with Jamie. You find yourself unbothered by this though, and hope you find yourself feeling this way about telling your own family soon. 

You watch on and admire Jamie and his mother as they say goodbye. You’re once again so thankful he has a parent like her in his life, and that he’s clearly gotten the best parts of himself from her. He also definitely gained much of his confident arrogance from the way she talks about him, but he wouldn’t be Jamie without it so you can’t complain. 

After one last wave, and a promise to return, the four of you head down the road, making plans to get a drink upon arrival back to the hotel. 

The rest of the night you feel a sense of relief flood you. You and Jamie were okay. More than okay, in fact, you come to realize, when he’s propositioning you to come back to his room with him. A room he wasn’t sharing with a teammate, he’s sure to emphasize. You of course eagerly accept, and spend the night wrapped in Jamie’s arms before falling into a blissful sleep. 

You find yourself thinking about your late night hook-up when you lie awake early the next morning. Things were different between you. They were more intimate, even by your standards. It was like you used your bodies to convey every ounce of how sorry you were, and how much you cared about one another. It was slow. Tender. Loving. 

Before you can linger too much on that thought, Jamie’s eyes are fluttering open as he lays on the pillow next to you. As soon as he blinks the sleepiness out of his eyes, he gives you a warm smile, which you return.

“Good morning,” he whispers, running his fingers through your messy hair.

“Good morning to you, too.”

“I wish I could stay here with you all day, but…”

“You’ve got to get ready for the game.” you finish for him.

He nods regretfully before pushing himself out of bed. Before he can get too far, you reach for his arm.

“Will you be okay out there today?” you ask, once again.

And again, Jamie seems unsure, but he plasters another small smile on his face before leaning down to give you a kiss, “As long as you’re there watching, I’ll be fine.”

You can’t help but smile back, pecking him one last time before shooing him off to get ready.

With another moment alone, you once again feel relieved that you and Jamie are back in a better place. However, you feel that familiar ache in your chest that something is missing; that you still have things to make up for. You know you still have a lot to explain to him, but that could wait until tomorrow. You needed to see Jamie win this game first. 

Richmond’s match against Man City on this day will go down as one of the most stressful football games you’ve ever witnessed. 

Everything started out smoothly. You watched enthusiastically from a box, seated in between Keeley and Rebecca, with Higgins on her other side. Van Damme was blocking every attempt made by the opposing team, and Jamie assisted Colin in making the first goal of the match. As you and your friends cheered, Leslie was hesitant to celebrate in fear of jinxing the team, so he stayed frozen in place.

Unfortunately, things took a turn after that. It was like the whole stadium was against Jamie. From the moment he walked onto the pitch, angry Man City fans were booing and cursing his name. Not only that, it seemed like every player on Manchester’s side was out to get the footballer, knocking him down or stealing the ball every chance they got. 

You watched on nervously, trying not to let it get to you. It was the name of the game. But it didn’t mean you had to like it. 

Half way through the game, the worst of your fears happened. In an effort to prevent Man City from scoring, Jamie leapt to block the ball and hurt his ankle in the process. You watched with bated breath when he wouldn’t get up from his spot hunched behind the goal line. He brushed off Isaac’s attempts to help him, and eventually got up himself. You let out a sigh of relief, until after walking a few feet, Jamie is falling back onto the pitch and the medical team is rushing onto the field.

“Holy shit,” you mutter under your breath.

Keeley takes your hand in hers and gives it a squeeze. “Hey, it's okay. Jamie’s going to be okay.” But you can tell she sounds just as nervous as you feel. 

You don’t know how long you’re waiting to see if Jamie will make it back up, but its torture. Ted is clearly banking on Jamie being able to play again, refusing to substitute anyone for him and having the team play with ten players instead of eleven. For their part, they’re holding down the fort, and Van Damme continues to block every shot. But you don’t care about the game, you just care about Jamie. 

At this point, both Rebecca and Keeley have a hold on each of your hands as you watch the medics look after Jamie. You know the coaches must be getting restless, because Ted goes to talk to Jamie again. You wish nothing more than to be able to rush down onto the pitch and comfort him yourself, but you trust that Ted is giving him the pep talk he needs to hear. 

And it seems as though you were right, because minutes after talking to Ted, Jamie is up and walking back onto the field, to the excitement of the crowd and his teammates. 

You feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders, letting go of your friends’ hands to clap for him yourself. 

“Yeah, let's go Jamie!” 

It was as if the next few moments happen in slow motion. After defending another goal against Man City, Van Damme is sending the ball down the field to an open Jamie, who expertly navigates around several opponents to get towards Richmond’s goal. You watch in awe as Jamie scores the team’s second point, bad ankle and all, all on his own. 

You practically fly out of your seat to cheer for him, screaming and jumping around with Keeley and Rebecca. In the midst of the stadium’s celebration, a whistle blows to finally send in Jamie’s substitution. Looking a bit shell-shocked and relieved, Jamie slowly makes his way off the field, but it's not without a proud send off from the entire crowd - including the Man City fans who were previously cheering against him.

Jamie’s touched face fills the jumbo-screen, and your heart swells with adoration. You know how much this has to mean to him. You also feel overcome with love for your uncle, who let Jamie have his moment before taking him out of the game. 

You had never felt more proud of Jamie, and you were once again overcome with the urge to run to him. 

You sit anxiously through the final moments of the game and rejoice in yet another celebration when the clock finally runs down and Richmond is declared the winner. Even as you embrace both of your friends in all the excitement, your thoughts are still consumed by Jamie.

You needed to see him. 

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, as you walk with Keeley, Rebecca, and Higgins down to the guest locker room. You try not to appear over-eager, wanting to remain in step with your friends, but you find it hard to resist the temptation to run ahead of them. After what feels like a trillion years, you make it to the locker room, finding the team’s celebration in full force. You break away from your group, as they go to congratulate the coaches. Part of you also desperately wants to talk to Ted, about a lot of things, but particularly how much you appreciate him for being there for Jamie tonight, but you had to see Jamie first. Your eyes scan the room as you walk through, congratulating Colin and Dani as you pass each of them, before you finally notice Jamie, towards the middle of the room. Sam had his arm around him, most likely supporting his teammate with his injury and all. 

Not even really processing that your feet take you there, you find yourself in front of the footballers. Sam sees you first, giving you a blinding smile. You don’t hesitate to return it, but your attention is hard pressed on Jamie, and Sam seems to get the memo. 

“You’re here!” Jamie exclaims, breathless from the excitement, and a bit confused about what you’re doing.

You nod, “Yeah,” you shout over the noise, a bit breathless yourself. “You were…incredible out there.”

Jamie squints at you, though he’s thankful for the compliment, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you bob your head up and down, still running on adrenaline. 

Jamie’s confusion is palpable, but when he goes to say something else, you don’t give him the fucking chance. 

Like a force, you wrap your arms around Jamie’s neck and pull him in for an earth-shattering kiss. You feel Jamie’s surprise, but it's short-lived as he wraps his own arms around your waist. You balance Jamie’s weight as Sam lets him go, only to start cheering for the two of you. This, of course, grabs the attention of the rest of the team, who immediately join in when they see what the two of you are doing. 

You hear shouts of surprise and excitement, and a few people shaking your shoulders, but you couldn’t care less. Your focus was entirely on Jamie, who was giving you the best kiss of your life right now. Unfortunately, breathing was still a thing so you had to pull away. When you do, you can’t look away from Jamie’s eyes, that are once again overcome with emotion. You imagine you look the same.

“Is this really happening?” Jamie eventually gets out, shakily.

All you can do is nod again, with a breathless laugh, “I think so.”

Jamie eagerly kisses you again before engulfing you in the tightest hug. Into his shoulder, you whisper how proud you are of him, and he only squeezes you closer to him, if at all possible.

Over his shoulder, you notice the rest of the club. Roy and Keeley look on at you two happily - or as happy as Roy Kent can look. Higgins for his part looks delighted as well, and Rebecca looks proud as hell. Beard looks like he’s frozen in place from the shock. And Ted…

You hadn’t really thought about how you were doing this in front of Ted.

When you study him, he is exchanging a look with Rebecca, who shrugs her shoulders innocently. Ted looks back at you, a little bit stunned, and a little bit amused. When he makes eye contact, you find yourself opening your mouth as if you could explain from where you were through all the commotion. He just raises his hand, signaling there was no need to say or do anything, and then he gives you a supportive smile.

You are once again flooded with relief. You knew you would eventually have to talk to him about everything, and explain more to Jamie as well. But at this moment, everything felt right in the world for the first time in a long time. 

The team’s victory celebration carries on throughout their bus trip back to Nelson Road and into the locker room as most of them get changed for a night out. Jamie elects to stay behind, wanting to rest his ankle, and also get a bit of alone time with you. 

You help Jamie walk to the treatment room, before telling him you were going to grab something from your car. He, of course, doesn’t let you leave without pulling you in for another kiss. He’d been kissing you any chance he got all night, basking in the freedom he now had to do so as he pleased. You had to admit, you could definitely get used to all the affection.

For your part, though, you didn’t need anything in your car. You just wanted the chance to task Roy and Keeley to find some champagne, so Jamie could still have his own little celebration. But you also wanted to talk to Ted. 

On your way to the coaches office, you pass Beard who is headed to the after party. When he clocks you, he gives you a wide eyed look. 

“You, missy, are my shit list,” he states, crossing his arms.

“What for?” you cross your own arms, “You want Jamie all to yourself or something?”

“No, Jamie’s not my type,” he teases, “I’m hurt that you didn’t tell me.”

You chuckle, “To be fair, I didn’t tell a lot of people.”

“Still, I thought we were closer than that.”

You give him a smile, uncrossing your arms to touch his shoulder. “I promise the next time I secretly date a footballer on the team you coach, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Thank you,” he places his own hand over yours, before pointing a finger at you, “But this better be the first and only time that happens.”

You giggle again. He kisses your head, letting you know that he is very happy for you, before disappearing into the night, as Beard does. 

That leaves you to find Ted alone in his office, packing up his bag. You knock on the doorframe, getting his attention, and immediately receiving a playful grin from him. 

“There she is,” he sing-songs, “Mrs. Jamie Tartt.”

You scoff, “Woah. Woah. Woah. We aren’t betrothed.”

Ted snorts, “I know. I just like teasing you, Kiddo.”

You laugh lightly, before you decide that it's now or never to address the elephant in the room. 

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” you say softly. 

Ted shakes his head, “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

You nod, but you don’t feel any less sorry. 

��Does Jamie know about our little family-affair?” Ted eventually asks.

You shake your head, “No. Was thinking I’d wait to tell him tomorrow, but…”

Ted nods, seemingly knowing exactly what you’re thinking, “You’re scared?”

“Yes,” you breathe out deeply, “But I don’t get it. I can’t tell him about you. I haven’t been able to tell you or Michelle or Dad and Pop about him. I really, really like him and I should be able to tell everyone that. But it terrifies me and I don’t understand why.

“I do,” Ted sticks his hands in his pockets and raises his shoulders, “Because as soon as you say something like that out loud, especially to the people who know and love you most, it makes it real. And that’s what's scary.”

You suck in a huge gulp of air, “Yes. That’s exactly how I’ve been feeling. I just didn’t know how to put it into words.”

Ted nods, continuing, “And telling family is twice as hard, because they’re the people who know you better than anyone else. They can call you on your bullshit, but they also know when something is the real deal. Which is probably why you never told us about what was really going on with Mason.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “How do you…”

“Rebecca may have mentioned a couple things in passing,” he admits, “She is not a fan of him to say the least. Rightfully so, it seems.”

“Yeah,” you agree shakily, “Even though Jamie is a lot different than Mason, I think I didn’t want to hear truths I wasn’t ready to accept yet.”

You did everything you could to keep your family and Mason out of the same room - and Mason made it easy - because you weren’t ready to have them all tell you how bad he was for you, even though you knew it deep down. But with Jamie, you just weren't ready to accept how important he was to you.

“It’s all understandable, Kiddo,” Ted states, “And I’m sorry that you went through that alone for a bit.”

You shrug it off, “I was okay. I wasn’t completely alone.”

Ted’s eyebrows raise, “Apparently so.” 

You feel your cheeks get hot, “That’s not exactly what I mean, but yeah, Jamie was certainly nice to have around the last few months.”

Your uncle chuckles, “Well, I’m happy that you found each other. I know you don’t need my approval or anyone else's, but I think you two are really great for each other.” 

Your stomach swirls, comforted by this notion. “Thank you. I think Jamie would be happy to hear that, too.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to let him know once you finally get your act together and introduce him to the family,” you roll your eyes, “Now, get outta here, Kiddo, and give that boy some company.”

You nod, taking a half step out the door before immediately spinning around to capture him in a big hug, “Love you, Uncle Ted.”

Ted sighs quietly, “Love you, too, Kiddo.”

Ted once again shoos you out of his office, and you bid him a goodnight, telling him to give Dottie a hug for you. 

When you rejoin Jamie in the treatment room, you find him typing away on his phone. He pockets it when he notices you come in, and gives you a sweet smile. 

As you join him on the infirmary bed he’s perched on, you press another chaste kiss to his lips. Jamie struggles to think of a time where’s been happier. He had you, and the rest of his people knew. He couldn’t ask for anything else. As you lean against his shoulder, and once again recount how proud you are of the game he played today, he can’t help but stare at you and take in just how special you are to him. He wants to find the words to express this to you, and a certain L word nearly leaves his lips, when he hears the door open to reveal Roy and Keeley. 

Jamie looks up at them curiously, brushing off how flustered he is from his previous thoughts, “What are you two doing here?”

“I invited them,” you speak up, drawing his attention back to you as you give him a smile.

“Yeah, wanted to keep you company,” Keeley adds with a bright smile of her own.

Roy reveals a bottle of champagne from behind his back, “And fucking celebrate.”

Keeley squeals and claps as you squeeze him into a hug. While Jamie would have loved a night just the two of you, he can’t complain when he’s surrounded by a group of people who care about him. He never thought he’d be so lucky. 

As Roy pops open the bottle and starts passing it around, you also can’t help but feel warmed by this moment. As the four of you share the champagne and joke around, you’re in disbelief that you’ve made it here; to be surrounded by genuine friends and a boy who was crazy about you. Not to mention becoming closer to your family again with Beard and Ted around. You still had a lot to sort out regarding your career, but one thought echoed through your brain the rest of that night:

Why would you ever want to leave this place?

A/N: THERE IT IS!! oof i poured my heart into this one and can’t wait to hear what you all think! the secret is out!!! mostly. ted has something to say next as well all know. anyway. TWO CHAPTERS LEFT!💗

Taglist: @atabigail @escapismqueen @boundtomyfate @sammysgirl1997 @lil-tracys @shephard17895 @alaspice @itsbarbraann @redpool @drmeghanjones @straightforwardly @alex-sulli @aiyaiy @artemismaximoff @roadtoself-love @theloud-yet-quietone @forcesofgrief @kirisimpster @geek-and-proud @grippleback-galaxy @lalla-04p @gabbycoady13 @royalestrellas @qardasngan @creationcitystreet-em @percysaidnever @emily-b @mrfitzsimmons @k-n-e @agentstarkid @legobatmans9thab @mrsprongs25 @sokkigarden @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @dollfaceyourfear @dicgohargreeves @heyitz-julia @vampirodelascajas @grxcesmind @lizziel1410 @a-sweet-little-fangirl @bcon24 @looooooooomis @queen-of-dumbasses @moseyluvs @alipap3 @amachira @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog @daphneblakeswife @chelseamount @k0z3me @lickitandsendit3 @miakat9 @shimmeringfrenchie @meg-ro @selmasemlan @hellfire-babez @rockchickrebel​ @katdahlali​ @taytaylala12​ @lemonpiegurll​ @pri00r​ @brianandthemays​ @afraidofshrimp​ @curlypeter​ @sonyume​ @rexorangecouny​ @thewildestwonderland​ @cyphah @buckybarnex @eviemae263782 @piper570 @ibong-adarnaaa @spookysins @optimisticsandwichgladiator @marveltg365 @ringpopdust @gcidrvsh @beardsplitter @scaramou it wouldn’t let me tag the last few of you, let me know if its something with your settings, otherwise i can keep trying in future updates! <3      

[dira333]

A United Front - Genma Shiranui x Reader

inspired by this prompt

And how odd it is to be haunted by someone that is still alive.

“I can’t offer you a relationship,” Genma can hear his own voice, deep and full and not at all cracking. 

He half expects you to laugh, to tell him that he imagined the growing tension between the two of you. But you don’t. “What a shame,” you tell him, your face not betraying any of your thoughts. You don’t smile though and he hates it. Your smile has long since grown into his favorite thing. It doesn’t feel right for it to be missing.

“I’m just… not in the place for it right now.”

“Ah,” you nod calmly. “And do you expect that to change?”

His heart beats painfully in his chest. Are you asking…

“I don’t know. But… probably not for the next few years.”

“Right.” You nod again. “Well, thank you all the same. Do you… want me to stay away?”

“No,” he breathes out a bit too quickly. “I mean, no, you don’t have to.”

“Okay.” You nod once more and he wonders if it’s just a motion to distract yourself or something else. “We’ll just tell each other if we can’t deal with the way it is, right? If one of us comes too close for comfort.”

“Right,” he mutters, not really getting it.

You smile, but it’s different this time. Distant, like it no longer belongs to him.

“Well, I’m going to leave then. Might Guy asked me to train with him and I’d feel more comfortable doing that now if that’s okay with you?”

And he can’t ask you to stay, can he? Have Dinner with him as if this conversation never happened. So he nods and tells you to have fun and watches you leave, feeling miserable all the same.

But he chose this. And it’s better this way. 

-

Almost dying always sets things into perspective, Genma believes.

He’d been - what - twelve, when they ran into the Swordsmen of the Mist, outnumbered even if they had been on par with their skill level. Not even Might Guy had any optimism left, stiff as a board next to him.

And Genma had looked Death in the eye and smiled. Only to come out barely unscathed, though grieving someone he’d barely known.

And it wasn’t the only time someone gave his life to save him, but he’s getting tired of that now. Of people dying for him or worse, because of him, because he’s too slow, or not skilled enough.

Genma’s getting tired and he’s just reached the peak of his career. 

Personal Guard of the Hokage. 

Life has left a dull ache inside of him. He knows it’s not visible on the outside because he’s always been able to cover his pain with dumb jokes, but if he had to compare, he’d say he feels like Kakashi looks. A little dead, living on just because he has to, and because he has too much spite to give up.

It’s not fair to drag you into this. 

But he wants to. Oh, how he wants to.

Kakashi has his Icha Icha and Might Guy has his training and Genma, well… he used to have you. Going for a drink after a mission, laughing as you come up with ridiculous pranks to play on your fellow Shinobi, or taking a walk through the forest just because you needed mushrooms and felt he’d be good company.

Life’s easier when he’s with you. As if the air has more oxygen and gravity is no more, every step lighter than the one before.

But he can’t become addicted to something that will not last.

Not for him. Never for him.

-

Genma sees you enter the bar with Anko and decides against stepping inside. 

He’d been craving a drink for hours, today’s shift grueling in its boredom. But he doesn’t want to remind you of what was and could have been, or maybe, he just doesn’t want to remind himself. 

He uses his time to go shopping instead, having avoided the market for the better part of the week. They have your favorite fruit on sale and he grabs two before he realizes he doesn’t even like them that much. He still buys them, burying them at the bottom of his bag.

Everything seems to remind him of you, which is weird and stupid and not at all helpful. And it doesn’t make sense. 

You’re still alive, so he doesn’t have a right to grieve you and you never really dated, never kissed or anything, but he’s missing you. 

Genma made it a habit not to mention you amongst his friends, lest they think they’re something there but now he regrets it, wanting nothing more for them to talk about you, tell him where they saw you and if you looked well or not.

When he gets drunk on his balcony one night, he thinks he can see you out of the corner of his eye, leaning in the doorframe with that kind of smile he thought belonged to him only. But when he moves to reach for you, you disappear and he’s left sober and missing a part of him he didn’t know he had. 

-

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Genma says the second you step into view. 

It’s a two-man mission and he’s done that before with you, but he can’t- he can’t do it right now.

“Why?” You ask as if nothing’s wrong. And maybe it isn’t, to you. Maybe you didn’t drown in your feelings for the last two months, fighting the instinct to flinch away at the bare mention of your name.

You certainly look like it. Like you’re fine with the way things are, without him. 

He bites down on his Senbon and nods, fingertips digging into the fabric of his pants.

“Just a thought,” he drawls out, before turning back to the Hokage. “When do we start?”

-

And it’s almost too easy not to fall back into a routine. You ask him how he’s been doing and he tells you the important stuff first, but you have that effect on him, keep him talking even when he feels he’s got nothing left to say.

“You know your favorite fruit,” he adds as he runs, mouth working with a mind of its own, “they had it on sale.”

“Oh? Did you buy some?”

“I did.”

“And?” Your smile has him almost miss his mark, but he’s better than that, catching himself. “Did you like them?”

“Still not really into them. But they’re ‘a great source of vitamins’.” Genma uses airquotes to show that he’s quoting you and you laugh and it hurts but he doesn’t want it to stop. 

It’s dangerous, working like this. His mind is too occupied with you for a mission of this caliber. He wonders if you notice.

-

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he’s building up your tent, suddenly glad that there’s only the two of them. With a three-man team they’d have to sleep next to each other at one point and he’s pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to handle it.

“Do you have feelings for me?”

The tent pole snaps between his fingertips. Genma stares at it without seeing it, his mind racing. What is he supposed to say to that? Yes? And then what?

“It’s okay if you don’t,” you point out behind him, your voice so calm it sounds like you’re speaking with a wild animal, ready for it to pounce any second. Do you recognize his heart for what it is?

“It’s not about wether or not I have feelings…” Genma cuts himself off before he adds the last two words. He swallows. “I told you I’m not ready for a relationship.”

“And what are you doing to change that?”

“Huh?” Genma turns, the broken tent pole momentarily forgotten.

“I mean, when we didn’t become Chunin the first time around, we were essentially told that we weren’t ready for that yet. But the ones who wanted to become Chunin tried their best to change that. Do you want to have a relationship?”

All tension leaves him with an exhale, the utensils slipping from his grip and onto the forest floor.

“I don’t-” He stares down at his hands. “I’m just so tired.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

-

Genma has missed this. 

Talking to you has always been a little different, a little easier.

He can talk to Might Guy about grief and to Kakashi about the potential of the coming generation but never the other way around. All of his friends have topics they don’t want to touch, but you’ve always been different, at least with him, vulnerable and strong at the same time. 

But he knows he can’t keep going like this. Not again.

“Do you think I’m ready for a relationship?” Genma asks the last night before they reach Konoha again, already used to the smell of his dirty uniform and the blood still caked under his nails.

You muster him for a second over the assortment of fruits and mushrooms and dried beef that you call Dinner. 

“I think you are,” you tell him finally. “It might be a little bumpy at times, but you’ve always been a bit of a ‘learning by doing’ type of guy.”

He sighs, the sound catching in his throat, barely making it out of his mouth.

“Would you-” You stiffen and he stops, swallowing harshly. Genma’s got half a mind not to ask but he drove himself into this mess, he needs to be able to get himself out of it as well.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” he starts anew. “But if you still like me at least a little bit, would you be willing to try? And date me, I mean?”

For a while, you’re silent, watching him like you do with your opponents. His heart is a fluttering thing inside his chest, filled with a fear he hasn’t felt since he was a child. 

Is he enough? Is he worthy?

Eventually, you reach out and pick the Senbon from his mouth, twirl it between your fingers before you move in, pressing your lips to his.

His body reacts on its own accord, all the longing snapping into his hands and arms and shoulders, pulling you in with enough fervor to upset the forest floor beneath you, leaving the two of them tumbling down and into the soft mossy ground.

When Genma kisses you back, he puts all his feelings into it. His fear, his longing, his love. He can only hope that you feel it, understand it like you understand everything else.

But your hand is in his hair now, bandana gone somehow and he stops thinking because so far, that hasn’t done him any good anyway.

-

Anko whistles low under her breath as he enters, your hand firmly in his.

“Shut up,” he growls, but he can’t help smiling, chest pushed out with pride. You’re dating him. You are dating him.

“Young love!” Might Guy wipes a tear from his eye. “So beautiful.”

“Tell me when you decide to move in together,” Kakashi declares from his perch at the back of the table, “So I can make different plans for that day.”

“Very funny,” Genma drawls, pulling your chair out before taking a seat next to you. “We’ll just ask your team to do it, call it a D-Rank Mission.”

You laugh next to him at that, nudging his shoulder with your own. “If they have to pack up all your weapons it’s no longer a D-Rank.”

“Wait,” Raido leans in at that. “You’re moving in with her? Why not the other way around?”

You look up at him, giving him the chance to explain.

“Dude,” Genma grimaces. “Have you seen my mess? Her place is much better.”

Raido considers that for a second. “True. But give me a heads up, I want your apartment when you’re gone.”

“Rude.”

Below the table, your hand rubs a soft circle into his thigh. It’s the simplest of touches, a presence that’s barely there but never fully gone, a soothing balm to the horrors of everyday life.

Yesterday you fought about what apartment you’d move into and his knee-jerk response of going silent about it fell victim to your insistence to talk about it properly. 

Genma’s not perfect and some days he’s still so tired of this life that he can barely make it out of bed without your help, but neither are you.

It helps, he has learned, to tackle these things together, shoulder pressed against shoulder, a united front.

After all, if he knows one thing, he knows how to fight a battle.

Tagging some Genma lovers:

@comicallylargemango @squishyneet @itsyoursunshinebabe @marvelmymarvel @venerawrites

[photogirl894]

Hi ! I hope you are okay !

I hope you don't mind requesting again :)

I was wondering if I could make a Crosshair x reader request with the following prompts from your romance/fluff prompts list

2. what did I do to deserve you ?

35. I love you with all my heart

Have a good day/night ❤️

Hey there, Cora! Sorry it took me so long to get to this other request of yours! I hope it's to your liking 😊

***Slight spoilers for TBB s3 ep8, but nothing really people don't know about at this point***

"A Healer's Touch"

2. "What did I do to deserve you?"

35. "I love you with all my heart."

Pairing: Crosshair x fem reader

***

All the years you'd lived on Pabu, you thought were the happiest you had ever been. You lived in an island paradise, surrounded by the most loving and accepting community you'd ever known and you had a job that you enjoyed most days. Everything felt just right and you thought you had it all.

Until one day, Clone Force 99, whom you had befriended, returned to the island with their long-lost brother...Crosshair.

You knew they had a brother who had sided with the Empire, but months ago, they'd tried to rescue him...which was when so many things went wrong for them. They failed in trying to find Crosshair, Tech had been lost and Omega had been captured. For the following months, Hunter and Wrecker; the only two left, had spent so much time away from Pabu, following multiple leads and scouring the galaxy for their siblings. It made you immensely happy when they returned with both Omega and Crosshair.

While all of the Clone brothers were handsome in your eyes, there was just something more alluring about Crosshair that caught your attention the first time you saw him. Maybe it was the intensity in his face or the way he stood tall with pride or maybe...it was the darkness and hidden sorrow you could see behind his eyes when his brothers introduced him to you. Even though you didn't know any specifics and despite his best efforts to hide it, you could tell that the Empire had utterly broken him.

In the months Hunter and Wrecker had been out back and forth so much, you'd started training with the local nurse and had become a rather talented nurse and healer yourself. When you'd learned Crosshair had some hand tremors that were starting to cause him slight pain, you offered to take a look at it for him. He'd been quite reluctant at first, but Omega insisted, to which he relented. While you initially couldn't determine the exact cause behind the tremors, the best you could do at the time was give him a balm that could at least help soothe the discomfort.

After that, everything changed.

He kept coming back for more of the ointment for his hand and to have you check it when it seemed things were getting worse, still a bit begrudgingly for a bit. At one point, you were examining his hand when it started shaking in the middle of it and you instinctively reached out and took it in your own, grasping it tightly. Just as you realized what you'd done and were about to let go and apologize, he curled his fingers around your hand in return and it was the first time you saw the hint of a smile from him...a smile that sent you falling head over heels for him in an instant.

Soon after, he started coming around just to see you instead of out of concern for his hand. His brothers would go on missions and leave him and Omega behind to keep them safe from the Empire and he would come to spend time with you instead of dying from boredom or after spending a good while training or being with Omega for a bit. He'd watch you work and make small talk when you weren't busy. You enjoyed his company and he seemed to enjoy yours, too. If ever his hand began shaking when you were together, you would hold his hand gently and it would calm him almost right away. You were grateful to know that you were helping him in more ways than just giving him something for the pain the tremors caused him. He seemed more at ease when he was with you physically and emotionally. You couldn't quite understand why, but it didn't matter. He chose willingly almost every day to see you. It felt as though there was an unspoken thing between you, but you were never sure if it was right to bring it up. Perhaps, one day, after he'd adjusted more.

You were a lost cause, though, because in all that time, you had fallen hopelessly and completely in love with him.

There was a day you were out walking around Pabu as the sun was beginning to set when you saw him down on the beach...meditating, to your surprise, but you couldn't help but smile. Then you decided you would go down and see him, so you made your way to the beach.

As you walked up behind him, he suddenly said without turning around, "I was hoping I'd see you today...but I didn't expect it to be here."

You were about to ask how he knew you were there, but...it was Crosshair. He just somehow knew these things. It was like he had enhanced sense of his own. Instead, you replied, sitting beside him, "I didn't expect to see you meditating. When did this start?"

"Omega showed me a while ago," he answered.

"That explains why your hand hasn't been shaking so much. It seems to be helping," you commented.

He simply hummed in response and inhaled deeply and slowly before exhaling through his mouth. You watched him carefully as he breathed, taking in every inch of his profile. The way he almost glowed in the golden evening light, how peaceful he looked...your heart felt warmer than your skin did in the Pabu sun. You looked down at his hand next to you; the one with the tremors that you always held. You reached down and took his hand once again in yours and he immediately grasped your hand back. He didn't break his meditation, but you did see a small smile slowly creep up on his lips as you took his hand and his shoulders seemed to relax even more.

There was a small moment of content silence between you before Crosshair asked, "What did I do to deserve you?" You were a bit surprised at the question and then he finally opened his eyes and looked at you, a softness in his gaze that made you melt inside.

"I don't understand," you replied.

"You've showed me more kindness than I feel I've earned. You waste your time with me when you could be doing anything else or be with someone else," he told you.

"I don't see it as a waste of time. I never have," you said back to him, gripping his hand tighter. "You deserve love and care as much as anyone else."

He turned his head away, saying in a low voice, "Who would love someone like me?"

Hearing him ask such a question made you want to cry at how little he thought of himself, especially when you thought the world of him. It was then you decided he needed to know how you truly felt.

You leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, whispering as you pulled away, "I would...and I do."

Crosshair turned to you, his eyes wide with shock at what you were implying yet there was still a gentleness in them that shone even brighter in the sunset.

With a smile, you nodded at him and stated, "I love you, Crosshair. I really do. I love you with all my heart."

Even though he still looked surprised at what he was hearing, his eyes flickered down briefly to your lips before gazing back into your eyes. Then he let go of your hand and reached up to caress your cheek, whispering your name as he did so. He leaned forward and then pressed his lips to yours in a tender kiss, eliciting a soft sigh from you as you immediately returned the gesture.

After he pulled away, he rubbed your cheek with his thumb, looking deeply still into your eyes. "And I love you with all of my heart," he told you back, "...a heart that you have helped heal just as much as my hand."

Photogirl894's Fluff/Romance prompts

Photogirl894's 1,000 Followers fics

[yestrday]

the first thing I think of when Reader is portrayed as naive and innocent in an AU is how in the future they’re worse then all their hybrids combined, and I’m getting some major brainrot over the hybrid AU so just hear me out here ‼️‼️

Reader was of course innocent and naive, sheltered in every way, but that was before their father suddenly decided that playing the role of a doting father in public would boost his dying image more then keeping reader locked up

So Readers thrust into the life of an heir, forced to come to grips with the cold harsh reality that is the business world, and realize that they’re never going to have any true power or freedom as long as their father is still around

So they plan and scheme, analyzing their fathers greatest achievements and his worst failures, learning all about how to play the business world, and people in general, like a fine tuned instrument. Just patiently waiting till their fathers gradual cover ups over the years suddenly make their way into the public eye.

And when it’s revealed that Readers parent abandoned them and then picked them up again for his entertainment, forcing them to turn to mere hybrids for genuine human interaction?

Well, both those concerned for Reader, and those not, take note. Suddenly investigations are happening and their fathers tax fraud and million dollar bribes are revealed, and oh what’s that, he’s also involved in multiple different crime organizations? How horrible

Reader miraculously finds themself to be the CEO how every company that their father had, an owner of all of his properties, and immeasurably rich beyond belief when their father dies in jail under simply tragic circumstances.

Only this time, Reader won’t let the opportunity to take the world by storm pass by. After all, they have a rather beautiful collection of hybrids waiting at home for them, and you know how clingy beloved pets are when you make them wait.

You cant blame the poor darlings though, the public whispers behind lustful gazes and adoring stares, they just can’t get enough of their powerful owner

actually anon this ask (which has been fermenting in my ask for a year now) has been the inspiration in why there's been a whole heir sub plotline in my hybird works.

i like the idea of the hybrids subtly corrupting the innocent bird that's been in their cage for far too long, now able to spread their wings but just doesn't know how. they feed darling whispers about how their parent abandoned them, how they're the only family they have. and all of them are oh so eager to follow reader's convoluted schemes to bring down their father and the company's enemies.

i find that corrupting darling would have many benefits to the hybrids. one, well, corruption arc? it would be just so lovely to see your naivety crushed and broken, making you rely on them not as your protectors but also as your fellow sinners in this plan. two, since you're so influential, you'll be able to at least influence society's views on hybrids. you'll be in a high enough position to influence lawmakers to loosen their binds on hybrids, to make hybrids equal... idk, just a thought.

this only applies to zhongli, since he's bound by a contract to your father, but this could be the perfect opportunity to revenge. what better way to take revenge on the man who coerced you into a humiliating contract than watch his own flesh and blood (who he does love despite all his callousness) impeach him from his throne and throw him into jail. it's perfect. plus, he'll be able to spend freedom with you forever and ever <3