#but those are also concussion signs so i love that for me

[matthewtkachuk]

bad at love

Breaking your brother's only unspoken rule—don't date his teammates—has never been an issue in your adult life. Until now.

pairing: jt compher x reader

warnings: angstttt, smut, a minor car accident with mentions of injury (broken bone/concussion), and the usual (alcohol, swearing, etc. etc.)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: hiiiiii @comphy-and-cozy i'm your super secret fic exchange writer! sorry this is a day late and a dollar short. one of these days @wyattjohnston is going to perma-ban me from participating in exchanges. until that date she remains my ever loyal editor. mad thanks to @thomasschabot for reading it first and telling me they loved it even though they're contractually obligated to do so and for physically being there when the fic idea popped into my head <3

It’s not the first time you’ve shown up at your big brother’s house with a face full of tears and a couple bags full of all your worldly possessions. Despite your best efforts and well intentions—if you had to guess—it likely won’t be the last. 

It is the first time you’ve done so with him being a married man, and so it’s your sister-in-law whose comfort you really seek and are expecting to pop up behind the slowly opening door in front of you. 

Unfortunately for you, and for the poor soul you really don’t know that well, it’s not Kenzy who opens the door but the over-the-summer pick-up from Colorado. 

If it had been any of the other, more tenured of your brother's teammates, you might have been waved inside with nothing more than a sympathetic glance and an unspoken ‘again?’. 

Instead, JT’s look of utter confusion has quickly evolved into something more akin to a quiet rage, and you’re reminded that he is a big brother himself. The look is familiar to you, having inspired a similar one on Dylan’s face more times than you can count. 

It’s been a really fucking long day, and you don’t have the emotional bandwidth to have any sort of reckoning with some guy you barely know in your brothers drive way. 

JT’s in the middle of some sort of sentence that begins and also ends with “What—” as you none too gently push past him in order to finally gain entry to the house. 

The mix of sympathy and feigned disinterest that greets you on the faces of your brothers teammates who occupy the large sitting room has your stomach rolling uncomfortably. It seemed like the entirety of the Detroit Red Wings were always around to witness your spectacular failures. What must they think, watching you disappear with the next great love of your life, only to reappear once again with bags packed in a manner of months?

You could hazard a guess at what your brother thinks, the variants of ‘I told you so’ that live and die on his tongue without ever leaving his lips. He wraps you up in an infamous Larkin hug that serves to fix a tiny crack of your broken heart, and so you revel in it like you used to revel in the comfort when the pain you felt was because of falling off the monkey bars when you were a kid. 

But, he has a house full of hockey players to entertain and Kenzy has a glass of wine with your name on it. Dylan returns to the living room and you slide out to the back porch with your sister-in-law, briefly catching the eye of the one who let you in. You don’t see the telltale signs of judgment reflecting back at you, but maybe something else entirely. 

Outside you pour your soul alongside the Malbec. Curled up on the wicker chair under a blanket you tell Kenzy about Owen and the promises he failed to keep. She oohs and ahs at the appropriate times, commiserating without belittling you. 

By the end of the night your heart—and the bottle of wine—feels a little lighter. There’s a little less shame as you make yourself at home in the spare bedroom that might as well permanently be yours. 

Owen visits you in your sleep, breaking your heart again and again until his face morphs into one with a ginger beard and kind eyes. 

-

Those kind eyes become a fixture in your post breakup life. If he’s not hanging around your brother's house, he’s bumping into you at the local coffee shop you frequent when you’re in Detroit. If he’s at neither, he’s obviously at the games you attend in support of Dylan alongside Kenzy. 

At Dylan’s, you barely speak to his teammates and friends beyond simple pleasantries. At your coffee shop, it starts at small talk but grows to be considerable conversations that dip just below surface level. 

It’s at Little Caesars Arena where he really endears himself to you though. Warm ups are arguably your favorite part of the games you attend. You like to look out at the signs, from the heartwarming to the obscene—picking out your favorites and giggling about the latter with your sister in law. 

Dylan’s always been really good about tossing kids pucks, and his big bleeding heart only grew larger when he got the red C strapped to his chest. Some of the other guys, even some of the so-called vets are less good about it. 

JT’s just like Dylan, maybe even a little kinder hearted. He takes the time to read the signs that are meant for him, never turns down a trade for a puck and even gives a stick to a kid whose sign says he came all the way from Denver to watch him, his favorite player, play in Detroit. 

It warms your heart. 

So much so you don’t even notice you’re staring until Dylan’s slamming himself into the boards in front of you to startle his wife. She rolls her eyes and calls him a name not worth repeating while you try to pretend like you weren’t just fixated on his teammate. 

The thing is Dylan has never outright said his teammates are off limits. Not since you were a teenager making eyes at his USNTDP teammates anyway. 

The memory keeps you from looking JT’s way the rest of the warmups, but once the puck drops your eyes can’t help but wander. 

-

Wandering appears to be your specialty, considering you’ve gotten yourself lost in the underbelly of the arena. 

Your first mistake was leaving Ken’s side—she was your ferryman, guiding you down the River Styx, and without her, you were lost in Hell. 

Were you overdramatic? Maybe. Were you lost with no hope of getting out? Still overdramatic, but definitely a possibility. 

The walls begin to look the same, and you’re half worried you’ve accidentally fallen into a back room or something stupid when you stumble upon the one who caught your eye earlier. 

‘Stumble upon’ is a gracious way of saying you absolutely smack into him and fall on your ass. 

He hauls you up effortlessly with one hand and your skin burns beneath his grasp. 

“What are you doing?” you both say in near unison before he laughs. 

“I was getting my shoulder checked out, what are you doing all the way over here? Are you lost?”

Regardless of what he was doing, JT obviously has more of a reason to be found wandering the halls of the arena. And he’s right, you’re most definitely lost but you play it off like he’s crazy. 

“Me? Lost? No, I know exactly where we are,” you bluff. 

JT’s eyebrows raise and he nods slowly. “Which is…?”

Well, he’s called your bluff but he also gave you a key context clue. “Near the athletic trainer, obviously.” 

He laughs again and it has your cheeks feeling hot. 

“Okay fine, maybe I’m a little bit lost and maybe I was contemplating how I’d be trapped down here forever before you knocked me over.”

“I’m sorry, but you ran into me.” You roll your eyes and begin to argue, but he doesn’t let that happen. “Doesn’t matter, I can help you find your way out.”

You swoon dramatically, only half joking as you reply “My hero.”

Now that you’re no longer focused on navigating your way out of Pan’s Labyrinth, you’re free to focus on your close proximity to JT. Based on the way his eyes dart between meeting your own and staring at your lips, you assume he’s just as aware.

Is this not what you’ve been wanting since you knocked on Dylan’s door? But that’s part of the problem, and you’re sure JT is thinking the same. Not only is your brother his teammate—and you’ve always been off limits to your brother's teammates to your chagrin growing up—but he’s JT’s captain, too. There’s a million ways this thing could go wrong and blow up in both of your faces. 

You could get caught, and be forced to sit with Dyl’s disappointment. You could hurt the one person in your life who consistently showed up for you and loved you and cared for you. 

Not to mention you could risk it all for nothing—could crash and burn spectacularly as you were wont to do. Could fuck it all up with not only your brother, but JT too and be left with nothing. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gone behind your brother’s back, but you had a sneaking suspicion things would be worse than they were when you were 15 to his 16. 

Ultimately you decide fuck it, because what’s life without a little risk?

Tentatively, you slide your hand over the rough beard covering his jaw. When he doesn’t flinch or move away from you, you lean in closer. 

He’s not pulling away, but he’s also not moving closer, letting you make the first move. 

It’s probably a terrible fucking idea, but you’ve never been accused of being someone who makes good decisions when it comes to romantic partners. 

The first press of your lips to his is cautious, barely a brushing of your mouths, just to get a taste. Quickly you become a woman obsessed. Unable to get enough, the kisses turn frenetic, bordering on sloppy. 

He reciprocates in kind, his mouth hot and heavy on yours while his hands grasp and pull and hold. His very essence consumes you, taking over all of your five senses and pulling noises from you that you didn’t know existed. 

If your arm burned from his grasp earlier, your entire body has caught fire. 

You’re unaware or probably more accurately uncaring of your public nature, despite your earlier hesitance. Now you just want more and more and more of JT, as much as he is willing to give and maybe even a little more. 

He seems to be on the same page, entire body wrapping around you and pulling you deeper and deeper. 

Unconsciously your hands begin to pull at the waistband of his pants and it’s then that the two of you finally separate. 

You’re worried you’re going to find regret in his eyes and excuses on his tongue, but he’s just looking at you intently. 

“Not like this,” he says. “Not here.”

“I don’t want to wait,” you protest, but he shushes you with his mouth. 

“It’ll be worth the wait.” 

And worth the wait it is. 

-

It's sexy at first. Clandestine meetings in dark hallways, sneaking in and out of JT’s apartment that’s on the same floor as Jake Walman’s, covert texts and quiet phone calls where you get off on the sound of each other's voices. 

It doesn’t take long for you to want more, though. To fantasize about not just what his calloused hands can do to your body, but what it would be like to hold one in your own while walking down the street. To show up at a home game and have everyone know you were there to support not only your brother, but JT too. 

It’s a fantasy that is only stoked by the comfort you feel walking around JT’s apartment in just his t-shirt with his number on the shoulder. By nights spent together at his dinner table, on his couch, in his bed. By sweet texts and stupid memes and random photos of things that made him think of you. 

You don’t dare speak your desires out loud though. For fear of JT not wanting the same thing or for fear that he would, you’re not quite sure. 

It’s a tough situation to be in. One where you’re worried you're heading to a fork in the road that has JT on one side and your brother on the other. 

You have no delusions about the two paths eventually forging back together again, know that you’ve come dangerously close to that intersection marked with a big fat caution sign. 

Probably you should speak to JT, get on the same page about where you’ve been and where you’re going. Following that, assuming he secretly yearns for the same thing you do, you should probably then come clean to Dylan. 

Probably you should do a lot of things, but unfortunately what is done in the dark always comes to the light and sometimes it happens quicker than you can make your mind up. 

-

A road win presumably has JT in a good mood. He’s texted you letting you know he’ll be home before midnight, requesting your presence in his bed. 

It’s an easy yes, considering you’re already in the aforementioned bed. It’s nice to get out of Dylan’s house, of the suffocating feeling that you’re intruding in someone else’s home, on someone else’s life. 

There’s really nothing particularly sexy about the way he finds you, but his eyes darken upon finding you curled up in his bed just the same. You’re not attempting to recreate a sexy pose from a boudoir photo shoot, and one of JT’s shirts and a pair of boy shorts aren’t exactly fancy lingerie. 

That doesn’t stop him from dropping his bag dramatically and stripping from his dress shirt and pants. 

“Awfully presumptuous,” you say as if the very fact that you’re in his bed in not much more clothing than he is. 

He shrugs, “Not presuming anything. I’m fine if you just want to sleep, but I’m sure as shit not going to sleep in those dress pants. Bad enough I had to sit through a plane ride like that.”

His tone is teasing, but the implication that he would be just as fine falling asleep beside you as anything else pretty well takes all the fight out of you. 

“C’mere,” you say instead of a catchy comeback, lifting the covers and inviting him into his own bed. 

He wastes no time sliding in beside you and curling up around your body. “Hi.”

You snort and hide your face in his neck. “Corny.”

“I’ll show you corny,” he says, but you shush him by pulling his face closer to yours until your lips brush. 

“Thought I was presumptuous,” he says upon breaking the kiss. 

You roll your eyes—“Shut up.”—and kiss him again. 

He doesn’t manage to keep his mouth shut, but at least this time it’s to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

The temperature of the room rapidly increases—between the weight of his body covering your own and your body’s reaction to his fervid kiss, you feel the need to lose at least one item of clothing. 

“I need—“

Luckily he quickly understands what you’re trying to accomplish by pulling at the hem of your shirt, lifting off of you long enough to assist in removing it from your body. 

He makes a noise of appreciation at the bare skin revealed to him before diving back into your lips, this time with one hand cupping your right breast. 

Appreciative noises of your own build in your throat when that hand slides down your body to dip into your underwear. It’s teasing touches at first, until you reciprocate by cupping him through his boxer-briefs. 

Finally you both shed that last remaining layer, uncaring of where they end up in the bedroom. There’s a brief pause while he rolls on a condom and then he’s entering your body like it was made for him and him alone. 

There’s no rush about his pace, just gentle thrusts and soft moans and sweet praises. 

Sex with JT is so good, better than with anyone else you’ve ever been with. He’s the very opposite of a lazy, selfish lover. It’s like your needs and your pleasure come first, and you certainly do too. 

The positioning of your bodies is so intimate, bodies close, mouths slotted over each other with intermingling breaths. 

You worry you’re getting too caught up in that intimacy, possibly running in a direction not quite warranted and so you seek to depersonalize it a touch. 

“Let me,” you say softly while gently pressing a hand against his shoulder, indicating you want him to lay on his back. He moves willingly, even helping you climb atop him. 

It feels just as good with you on top, and the bit of distance between your upper halves means you can breathe a bit better. 

It’s easy to get lost in the feeling, to tilt your head back and focus on your movements and the feel of his bruising grip on your hips. 

Feeling the pressure build in your stomach, you slide a hand down your abdomen to where your bodies meet while the other grasps your breast just for something to hold on to. The added friction to your clit is pulling you closer and closer as you move on top of him. 

He’s staring up at you with lust filled eyes, mouth open in a mix of awe and pleasure. A look of almost disbelief on his face. His hands are still on your hips, now helping the movement of your body on his when your body lights up like the fourth of July with your orgasm. 

It’s hard to keep moving while in the throes of pleasure, but it’s like JT can read your mind, gripping your hips and thrusting up into you until he finishes too. 

Your whole body tingles as you collapse on top of him, relishing in the feel of his arms wrapping around your body. Leisurely you kiss for a minute, until your heart rate returns to normal and you feel like you’re not likely to fall over when going to the bathroom to clean up. 

When you return, you’ve slipped on one of his shirts once again. There's a soft look on his face as you crawl into bed beside him. It only cracks when you quietly whisper, “should we order pizza?”

“I think you’re the girl of my dreams,” he laughs. 

The room is quiet, filled with only the sounds of your breathing and occasional kissing as you wait for the delivery. 

Finally the doorbell rings. “I got it,” you tell JT and pull on a pair of discarded sweatpants before pulling the drawstring so they don’t fall. 

You don’t bother to check the peephole, certain it’s your food which turns out to be a giant mistake. 

Not only is it not your pizza, it’s also the last person you want to catch you with sex hair in oversized clothing that obviously belongs to the guy you’ve just had sex with. 

Dylan’s mouth has dropped so far down it would be comical if it wasn’t also horrifying. 

“Dylan I–” you start to explain yourself but pause midway through. How could you even begin to explain?

“I can’t believe this.” He shakes his head, hands curling at his side. “Actually no, I can’t believe this from JT, I can definitely believe this from you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snap. 

Your brother laughs sardonically, “Well you’re not exactly known for making the right decisions when it comes to relationships.”

JT exits his room, no doubt lured by the loud voices and the lack of food. “Hey man, come on, let's talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults?” Dylan is incensed in a way you’ve never seen before. “Now you want to talk about things like adults? The time to talk was before you started sleeping with my sister behind my back.”

“I’m sorry you found out like this–” JT continues to try to defend himself, defend you while you stand there speechless. 

Dylan interrupts, “Sorry I found out or sorry you got caught?”

JT goes to respond but Dylan cuts him off again. “I trusted you dude. I told you she was off limits, and not only did you ignore me, you went behind my back.” He then turns to you. “And you? My teammate? Seriously? You couldn’t have chosen literally any other douchebag to treat you wrong?”

That snaps you out of your stupor. “JT doesn’t treat me bad!”

A different kind of look crosses your older brother's face then. “Well when he does, don’t come running back to my house and crying to me.” 

Dylan slams the door and you sit in the quiet of the room for a minute with your ears ringing. 

The reality of the situation hits you. 

“I can’t stay there, God not only am I a fuck up but I’m homeless too.”

“You can always stay here,” JT offers and it really bothers you that you can’t tell if he wants you to, or if he’s just offering because of his hand in the most recent blow up of your life. 

“I’m pretty sure his baby sister shacking up with his teammate he doesn’t want her with isn’t exactly going to win me any favors with Dyl,” you reply. 

“Well I’m pretty sure he’d rather you be here than living on the street.”

Ordinarily you think that would probably be true but the look on his face when you opened JT’s door is seared into your mind. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

-

In the end you do move your things into JT’s apartment. Kenzy is the accomplice to your crime, helping you pack your things while the team has practice, wrapping you in her arms and telling you that he just needs some time. 

“He loves you,” she says. 

You’re not so sure. 

That’s probably overdramatic. You’re sure he loves you, and you sure hope he forgives you. You’re just worried that this time you’ve both done and said things you can’t take back and you’re not sure how things will move forward from here. 

It’s not all bad though. 

Living with JT is surprisingly easy, even right one might say. You fit directly into each other's lives like perfect puzzle pieces. His strict routines of practices and morning skates and games—both home and away—allow you the space to complete your own work on your own time. Cooking pregame meals together and curling up beside him when he takes his pregame naps quickly become some of your favorite activities. 

You dance around the feelings talk, never quite broaching the subject. But it can’t feel this right if it’s all one sided, all in your head, right?

He’s even kind enough to let you drive his SUV even though the price tag makes you nervous every time you’re behind the wheel. You’re not a bad driver, as evidenced by the fact JT lets you drive the Audi, but you are possibly on this side of over cautious as a result of a bad car accident in high school. 

Three home games after your fight with Dylan and approximately zero words or text messages exchanged between the two of you, you find yourself in the passenger seat. 

“I could have taken the bus,” you protest weakly, almost knowing exactly what JT’s response will be. 

“Over my dead body,” he laughs, eyes flickering over to you before focusing on the traffic in front of him. “Just pick me up after practice or text me if you’re still out and I’ll find a ride.” 

“I’m not gonna leave you stranded at the arena, of course I’ll be there after you’re done.” 

It’s oddly domestic, kissing JT across the console and then sliding into the driver’s seat that he vacates. You wait as he grabs his gear and walks away, you do really love watching him walk away. 

The moment is cut short by catching a glimpse of your brother's vehicle. He’s not in it, obviously already inside the arena, but the sight of it makes your stomach clench all the same. 

Thoughts of Dylan and his disappointment and worry that he’ll never forgive you flood your mind the entire drive. So much so that when the next light turns green, you let off the gas without realizing that there is a larger SUV running the red. 

It all happens so fast. The screeching of tires, the crunching of metal, the pop of airbags going off and then a blinding pain in your wrist. 

In the end, you’re pushed into the wrong lane of traffic, the other vehicle damn near in the passenger seat you occupied only fifteen minutes ago. There’s a distinct ringing in your ears and you offhandedly wonder if this is what it feels like to get boarded. 

“Are you okay? I’m calling 911.” The words sound like they’re underwater, and it takes you several seconds to realize they’re being spoken to you. Turning your head to the side, you try to get the words out to say you’re fine, but you’re blocked by the airbag that has gone off near your head. 

Emergency services come quickly, a perk of living in Detroit you suppose. Embarrassingly, it takes the jaws of life to peel off the driver's side door to get you out. A cop takes your statement and then you end up in the back of an ambulance. Despite your assurances that you’re fine, one raised eyebrow from the female paramedic and the idea that you’ve probably broken your wrist has you agreeing to the ER visit. 

It’s then that someone asks you if there’s anyone you want to call. Heartbreakingly, your first thought is Dylan and your second thought is you’re not sure he’ll pick up. 

Your third thought is JT and his SUV that you’ve probably totaled. 

One of the paramedics helps you dial the equipment manager’s number, the one you were instructed to only ever use in case of emergencies. If ever there was a reason…

When he picks up the phone, you have to explain that you’ve gotten into a tiny fender bender and if you could please speak with JT and yes I mean JT not Dylan. 

“Are you okay?” JT all but demands when he picks up the phone. 

“I’m totally fine,” you fib, and then concede based on that same female paramedic once again raising an eyebrow. “Okay so I might have broken my wrist but–”

“Which hospital are you going to?” he interrupts. 

You tell him, but try to say, “It’s okay you don’t have to–”

He interrupts again, “I’ll be right there.”

He hangs up quicker than you can ask how he’s going to get there without the car that you’ve wrecked. 

True to his word, he’s sitting on a chair in your hospital room when you return from getting an x-ray. He stands abruptly upon your entrance and takes the three strides to stand in front of you before hesitating, like you’re made of glass. 

You take matters into your own hands and slide your good arm around his back, careful to not jostle your injured wrist. There's a slight tremor to his body that you feel run through yours. 

“I’m okay,” you say comfortingly, rubbing your good hand along his back before pausing. “Your car though….”

The tears are already starting to pool in your waterline as he pulls back. 

His hands slide to cup your jaw as he speaks seriously, “I don’t give a damn about the car. It can be replaced, you can’t.” A tear slips out before you can stop it and he brushes it away with his thumb before kissing you softly. “I care about you. So much. And that phone call scared the shit out of me.”

Despite the less than stellar background and circumstances, his words have your heart leaping in your chest. “I really care about you too,” you whisper and kiss him again. 

“Where is she?” you hear coming down the hall and it occurs to you that your brother is still your emergency contact. 

“Did you tell him?” you ask JT who promptly shakes his head. 

You don’t even have time to step back from JT’s embrace before Dylan comes crashing into the room. JT wisely pulls away and gives Dylan the space to place his hands on your shoulders and scan for any signs of injury. 

“I’m okay,” you reassure him but the words feel hollow considering they’re the first you’ve said to him in more than a week. “Broken wrist they’re gonna cast and probably a concussion. Can’t say the same for the car.”

Eerily similar to JT, Dylan replies, “Cars can be replaced–”

“But I can’t,” you say in unison with him. “I know, JT said the same thing.” 

It’s like Dylan remembers his teammate then, eyes sliding over to where JT stands and then back down to your slowly purpling wrist. 

The room is silent except for the sounds of medical equipment and the faint sounds occurring outside the door. 

“I’m sorry,” you say in unison with your brother again. 

“No, I'm sorry,” he says first. “I’m your big brother and I’ve seen you get your heart broken too many times. I’m always going to worry about you but I was out of line.”

“I’m sorry we went behind your backs and I’m sorry you found out that way. We should have just talked to you, I should have just talked to you.” 

“Truce?” he asks, like you’re 10 and 11 again, fighting over something silly and trivial. 

“Truce,” you confirm, hissing when you knock your broken wrist as you pull him in for a hug. 

Later, when you’ve gotten over the guilt of totaling JT’s barely used Audi and the cast on your wrist is long gone,  it’ll be a fun story to tell at parties. About how it took an idiot running a red light for you to define your relationship with JT and to reconcile with your brother. 

#nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl x reader #jt compher fic #shelb writes

[mvltisstuff]

Hi! Could I please request a 911 fic, please? Reader is Buck and Maddie’s little sister and is dating Eddie. She goes for a hike and falls, maybe just like a broken leg and concussion... but she has to call 911 and is freaking out a little and Maddie does her best to calm her down til the 118 gets there. Then lots of fluff with the guys. Maybe they show up at her apartment the next day to help her out with things and binge some tv with her. Thank you in advance!

sos - e.d

summary: request

eddie diaz x buckley!reader

a/n: tysm for the request, hope you enjoy 💗

y/n thought it was common sense to not disturb the wildlife in the trail. there were signs everywhere, you had to be blind to miss them. blind or stupid, at least. she also knew that the group of teenage girls had ignored the sign, trying to run after the deer and scare them away.

it was her one day off. it wasn’t a huge day to go to the hiking paths, so she went when it wasn’t busy. however, the mob of juveniles came across like they were the only people to exist, shoving anyone and anything out of their way. y/n had fallen victim in their path of destruction. she had been firmly distracted on the panicked deer, being able to outrun their pictures and harassment.

stupidly, her food stumbled on a pit, twisting her ankle as she fell down the rocky hill. she felt the massive rock jab her head, leaving a pitchy ringing in her ears. the fall had turned her leg in ways that it shouldn’t turn. finally, after what felt like minutes of falling, she landed on her back on the dusty floor of the woods. she lay there panting for a few moments, hoping someone would have seen her fall, but there wasn’t anyone but the excited shouting of the girls. she basically had no other choice but to fish her phone out of her pocket. she was so discombobulated and facing pain that she could only manage to type the three numbers.

“9-1-1, what is your emergency?” the voice of y/n’s older sister came through the phone, making y/n’s heart race in relief.

“maddie! oh, jesus,” she groans. “so, funny story, i just fell on my hike and i bashed my head on a rock, and then my leg did a weird thing and now it hurts like a bitch so i don’t r-“

“y/n?” she could tell the panicked voice of her sister. “wha- ok, first, tell me what trail you’re on.”

“i’m on the northeast trail at brush canyon,” y/n informs, despite the throbbing ache in her skull.

“alright, i’m sending units to you now, but stay on the phone with me?”

“i will. god, those girls were just running like maniacs an-“

“hey, hey, calm down, y/n. you’re going to be fine, just don’t get too riled up, yeah? police and rescue are 3 minutes away from your location now.”

“thank you, maddie,” y/n says into the phone, starting to calm down and grow more tired.

“of course, that’s why i’m here. the police should pull up in a minute, i love you,”

“i love you too, maddie,” maddie hangs up the phone, leaving her to buck and eddie now. they came to check the safety of the trail after hearing about the pits, and the concerns of people tripping and tumbling down the hills. when buck saw his little sister on the ground, his heart stopped.

“y/n?” he shouted, sliding down the hill and next to y/n’s body.

“heyyy, buck,” she says, being given pain medicine by chimney. “oh, i fell by the way.”

“eddie!” he yells, calling for her boyfriend as he walks down to see her too.

“what the hell happened?” he asks, completely alarmed by her state on the ground. “hey, are you ok?”

“splendid. not the best hike, but i’ll just leave a bad review. and someone tell those bitches to stop running after the deer!”

“alright, she’s fine,” buck laughs, getting his sisters personality back as they lift her onto the stretcher. bobby allows buck and eddie to travel with her to the hospital, as her eyes close in the back.

“i’m not sleeping, i’m just resting my eyes.”

“y/n, you probably should sleep,” buck tells her.

“yeah, baby, you hit your head pretty good,” eddie adds. he smiles at y/n’s scrunched eyebrows and shut eyes as she just continues to fall asleep one minutes later.

the doctors had confirmed that she did fracture her patella, and would be limited in movement for a few weeks. she had a light concussion from the impact on her head, but she’d heal perfectly fine. it wasn’t really anything to worry about.

she returned back to her apartment with maddie, helping her carry her things back in with the crutches. “thanks, maddie.”

“don’t thank me, just please be careful now,” she begs. “i don’t want you to push yourself like evan did and get all worked up.”

“i’m fine, maddie, i swear.”

“ok,” she concludes. “i have to go to work, but if you need anything in the world, call me or buck or eddie and i’m sure someone will help you. are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“maddie, get out of my apartment and go to work. i am fine!”

“alright, i love you. i’ll see you soon,” she says, shutting the door behind her as y/n sits on the couch, leaning her new crutches against it. she finally gets settled watching some old random reruns from tlc, getting invested in it when she realizes that she has to eat something with her new medicine. she tries to figure out something, when she hears an abrupt knock on her door. she limps over with her crutches, revealing a grinning buck and eddie by her door with a bag of food.

“we come with food!” buck smiles. “your favorite! cheesecake factory!”

“you guys did not have to do this,” she says, letting them come in and placing a kiss on eddie’s lips.

“well, we wanted you to have anything you need,” eddie tells her.

“i appreciate, i really do.”

“good, so what do you need done?” eddie asks. y/n thinks about what she could get away with, and manages to make them clean her entire kitchen. they did it willingly, so it’s nothing but a win for her.

“perfect! now, come eat with me and watch this show i found,” she beams, crutching over to the couch and placing the bag of food in front of her on the coffee table.

“what are we watching?” buck asks, starting to crack open his takeout box.

“i’m not really sure, some guy making cakes in new jersey,” she presses the volume as the voice of the man comes through the speakers. she sits back with her plate of food, looking at her two favorite boys in the world.

#911 #911onfox #bobby nash #eddie diaz #evan buckley #evan buckley fanfic #athena grant #henrietta wilson #evan buckley x reader #evan buck buckley x reader #maddie buckley #chimney 911 #eddie diaz 911 #eddie diaz x you #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz fluff #eddie diaz fic #eddie diaz x y/n #eddie diaz angst #eddie diaz oneshot #eddie diaz fanfic #evan buckley one shot #evan buckley x y/n #evan buckley x sister!reader #evan buckley fluff #evan buck buckely #buddie 911 #911 chimney #911 fic #911 show

[hawkinsmethlab]

Dustin is quiet on the ride to his house.

Unusual, but nothing unheard of, especially when he’s thinking hard about something. From what Steve had been able to pick up before he’d dropped off Mike and Lucas, there’s a lot going on in the Dumpsters and Dangers department.

Steve is half-tempted to ask him about it, even though he won’t understand a single word, just to see Dustin get excited about something. Not that he’d ever admit it to the kid’s face, but he’s missed him a bit. Ever since he started up Hellfire it’s been “Eddie this” and “Eddie that.” Give him a break.

But, it’s a bad listening day, and Steve’s really just trying to hear the commercial on the radio over the sharp ringing in his right ear. It’s one that plays a million times a day and he knows it by heart at this point, but that kind of makes it worse. Just means he knows when he’s missing a word or a sound effect.

But it’s fine. He’s handling it. The constant ringing used to make him feel like he was going insane, especially on bad days like this where it’s like a physical presence in his head that leaves him feeling lopsided, like the Upside Down itself is pulling on him. Coming and going in piercing waves that block out any other noise, no matter how loud or how close.

Robin thinks it’s a problem.

“I’m dealing with it,” he’d told her, both of them on her bed with her history textbook in his lap. She had a test on Monday and sure, Steve wasn’t the best student, but he’d helped Nancy study a million times.

“Sure,” Robin said. “Except that you aren’t. You’re avoiding it, and those are two very different things. Do I need to pull out my dictionary and beat you over the head with it?”

“Which one, you have like, seven in here.”

“Maybe we can try them all just to see what sticks.” Then, she’d folded herself over the edge of her bed to rummage around in her bag. “But also, I was just thinking, maybe we could give this a try?”

She handed him a folded up piece of paper, biting her lip. Steve took it, skeptical, and unfolded it to see a poster for the Bloomington community center that read American Sign Language Lessons.

At Steve’s extended silence of like, a second, she continued, “I thought we could do it together. For fun. Really up our trash talk game.”

Steve had just stared at it, dread settling low in his stomach like a sack of rocks. He dropped the poster on the bed. “Thanks, but neither of us are deaf. We don’t need it.”

She’d sighed. “Steve--”

“‘In which battle was Napoleon defeated?’”

“Waterloo, easy, but listen to me. ASL isn’t just for deaf people. Besides, you don’t have to wait until you can’t hear anything at all to start learning. I mean, you could, that’s the whole point of the language, but I don’t think you would handle it very well.”

“Rude.”

“I’m just saying.” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe we could even get some of the kids into it. I bet Dustin would--”

“No, Robin.” It came out a bit more harsh than he’d meant it, a little scared and he hated that. He crossed his arms just in case his hands decided to start shaking. “Just. Can we drop it?”

Robin, being Robin and he loved her for it but Jesus, leaned forward on her elbows. Steve raised his legs a little to hide the textbook. He wouldn’t put it past her to use this as some kind of con to cheat. Not that she needed to, she’s a genius.

“Steve,” she said, “you can’t just not tell them forever. Eventually, one of them is going to figure it out, and I don’t know about you, but I’d rather tell somebody something like that on my own terms.”

“I’m not not telling them,” he insisted. “It just hasn’t come up.”

“In five months? Or no, you said Billy is when it got really bad and that was a year ago. There hasn’t been a single moment in all that time where someone hasn’t noticed something different?”

Sure they had. A few different times. But, he’d always been kind of air headed and spacey, even before his concussions so it was easy enough for them to just brush it off as Steve being Steve. “I thought I was here to help you study.”

Robin looked at him like he was one of her crossword puzzles. “I’m just trying to understand why you told me and no one else. That’s all.”

“That’s...different.”

What did she want him to say? That to tell her had been one of the scariest moments of his life, had made him miss the demodog-infested tunnels, had made him feel like he needed a bat in his hands? That saying it, any of it, out loud had left him feeling like he needed to hurl? That the thought of telling anyone else who wasn’t her, as wild as that was for someone he’d met six and a half months ago, left him on the edge of a fucking panic attack?

Yeah, sure, he’d get right on that.

Robin stared at him a little longer before she leaned back, the fight gone. “Fine.” She reached over and grabbed the poster, folded it back up and put it back in her bag. “Just promise me you’ll give it some thought? Even just a little?”

“Scout’s honor.” He held up his hand.

“You were never a scout. And that’s the wrong hand.”

“I went to summer camp that one time!”

“That’s not the boy scouts, Steve!”

It’s been three days since then, and as much as he would like to forget about the whole thing, he’s been kind of agonizing over it. Over what Robin had said, about them figuring it out on their own. Would that be better? Worse?

Either option leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Makes him want to dig Billy up from his grave just to put him back in it. Him and those fucking Russians.

There’s a slap on his arm. “Steve!” Dustin’s glaring at him. “Jesus, finally. You just passed my house.”

Oh. Whoops. “My bad.” He pulls into a random driveway to turn around. “Don’t have to shout, man, car’s only so big.”

“I said your name like six times.”

Steve sighs and wishes for about the millionth time that his tinny-whatever-Owens-had-called-it had a dial so he could turn it down. Or off, really, that’d be great. “Sorry, I guess I’m a little distracted. Some--work thing that Keith’s on my ass about.”

He pulls up in front of Dustin’s house and debates getting out. On any other day he’d be happy to walk him to the door and talk to Mrs. Henderson, but that usually leads to her inviting (or ordering) him to stay for dinner, and while his stomach is more than on board for whatever she’s whipped up, his head has the louder argument.

“Alright, man,” he says and cuts off the radio. “I’ll see you later.”

Dustin doesn’t move. He’s got his backpack on his lap and a loose grip on the door handle, but that’s it. He almost looks...nervous?

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Dustin nervous before.

“What’s up?” Steve asks. “Your mom pissed at you or something?”

Dustin scoffs. “Please, I’m an angel.”

“Only in her eyes. Come on, what’s bugging you? Something one of the guys said? A kid at school? Some sort of mathematical nerd thing that’s got you stumped?” He gasps. “It’s not Suzie, is it, I swear to god--”

Dustin looks almost scandalized at that. “No. What? No. Nothing like that. I’m just--” He’s suddenly back to nervous. He starts picking at the zipper on his backpack, takes his hand off the door. “I’m just not sure how to--”

After a few more seconds of stuttering silence, Steve rolls his eyes. “Dustin, just spit it out. Whatever it is, you can talk to me. I mean, I can’t promise how helpful talking to me will be, with all the stuff you guys get up to but hey, I can at least try, right?”

Dustin sighs and turns in his seat to face Steve more fully. He seems to steel himself before saying, “Okay. I just want to say, before we move forward, that I’m not mad.”

Oh. Not exactly what he was expecting. “...Okay? I’m not either.”

“And I still think you’re cool or whatever, and we’ll still be friends no matter what.”

Steve nods, completely lost. “Right.”

“Because society can say whatever the fuck it wants!” Dustin is yelling suddenly. “And they can go on and on about the bible and whatever the hell Reagan is talking about, but you’re my friend, dammit! You’re my friend!”

“Whoa, Dustin!” Steve raises his hands, both to calm him down and maybe to protect himself a little. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Dustin takes a deep breath. “I’m talking about how you’re--” He looks around, as if they weren’t alone in the car, then whispers, “About how you’re gay.”

Steve blinks, slowly. There was no way he heard that right. Right? “You think I’m what?”

“I know,” Dustin says. He puts a hand on Steve’s shoulder in what he assumes is supposed to be comforting. “I know that you’re gay and I just want to tell you that it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Steve leans back and stares at him. Dustin leans with him, keeping his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’m not gay.”

“You don’t have to hide from me anymore,” he says. “I love you, you’re my friend, one of my best friends, and nothing is gonna change that.”

“Well, that’s great and I appreciate it, but I’m still not gay.”

“Yes.” Dustin nods solemnly. “You are.”

Steve laughs. A short one, like a gunshot, and pinches the bridge of his nose. When Robin had told him about people drawing their own conclusions, she probably hadn’t imagined something like this. God, he can’t ever tell her about this. “Oh my god. Okay. What, uh, what gave me away?”

“Well, really, you shouldn’t feel too bad. I don’t think anyone else has noticed.”

“Hmm.”

“But you’ve just been kind of out of it lately. Distracted more, like right now, driving me home, or when we watch movies. Don’t think I didn’t see you staring at Harrison Ford. Raiders of the Lost Ark and Star Wars, dude.”

“Now hold on, that’s not--”

“And then, back at Thanksgiving, when my mom was telling you that story about me and Suzie and you just looked so uncomfortable--”

Because Steve hadn’t had a single clue what she was talking about.

“--plus, I’ve seen the way you look at Eddie so--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait.” Steve scoffs. “How I look at Munson? The Freak.”

“Well, yeah, it’s like you’re being tortured or something.” He shrugs. “It’s kind of romantic, honestly.”

Jesus Christ. “Okay. Wow.” This is worse than every Upside Down encounter combined. “Dustin, I will repeat: I am not gay. There’s an explanation for all of those things, but it doesn’t involve my sexuality in any way. Got it?”

Dustin raises an eyebrow, totally not believing him. Finally, he leans back. Crosses his arms. “Alright then, I’m listening.”

Whenever he did let himself picture how telling one of the kids would go, this hadn’t been what he’d imagined. But really, this has already gone so terribly, so how could it possibly get worse?

(Dustin could look at him like he’s broken, like he doesn’t recognize him, could tell him that he doesn’t trust Steve to watch his back, could start treating him differently or avoiding him, he’s already hanging out with Munson more, why not just abandon him altogether--)

“Alright.” He runs a hand through his hair before settling it on the bottom of the wheel, gripping it so tight his knuckles go sheet white. “So. Yeah, I’ve been distracted and not...listening as well.”

“Because you’ve been thinking about--”

“Nope!” Steve closes his eyes. Deep breaths and quick prayer to not kill a child. “It’s because I literally can’t listen as well as I used to. I--I have hearing loss.”

His second time saying it out loud to another person and it’s met with a similar kind of gut-turning silence. Steve watches Dustin’s face go through several rapid changes before settling on something confused, his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows low.

“Oh.”

Then he looks mad.

“You have what? Dude!” He starts slapping Steve across his arm. “Since when?”

“Since--Jesus, man, stop! Since the mall fire, okay?”

Dustin freezes and Steve does too, the guilt like ice in his chest. He looks at Dustin and knows he’s thinking about the elevator and the bunker and the sizzling of human flesh under a fucked up cattle prod. It had been a tough summer for all of them, but Steve won’t ever be able to forget how Dustin had sat next to him in his car, just like this, trembling when he told Steve about how he was having nightmares. About how he thinks he might have killed that guy, and what did that make him?

A hero, Steve had told him. You saved our lives.

“If I hadn’t--” Dustin starts.

“Cutting you off there, Henderson. This,” Steve waves a hand around his face, “is not your problem. Okay? It has nothing to do with you.”

Dustin looks so small then, so lost, and Steve feels his heart twist. He reaches over and ruffles his hair. “It’ll be okay. I can still hear out of my right ear, so I’ve got that going for me.”

Dustin frowns. “Does anyone else know?”

“Only you and Robin. I just...haven’t found the right time.”

“The right time being when? It’s been months. If we’d known, we could have helped you.”

Just like with Robin, he doesn’t have a good answer. Doesn’t really have any answer, and doesn’t know when he will. “I’ll get around to it. Sometime. But,” he locks eyes with Dustin, “you have to promise me you won’t tell anyone until I’m ready.”

“Steve--”

“Promise me, Dustin.” He stares him down. “I’m dead serious.”

Dustin sighs, but nods. “Alright.”

“On your mom’s life?”

Dustin recoils. “Dude, you’re bringing my mom into this?” Then, “Alright, fine, I swear on my mother’s life. Cross my heart and hope to die and all that shit, I won’t tell a soul.”

“Thanks.” Steve claps him on the shoulder. “Now get out.”

“Does Robin know you’re gay?”

“What?” Robin can never know about this conversation. “Dude, no, I’m not gay!”

“So you are dating Robin.”

“I’m not dating anyone! Definitely not Robin, and I don’t have any kind of crush on Munson or anyone else!”

“But I swear, the way you look at him--”

“I hate his guts, now get out or I’ll hold your hat hostage.”

With a proper amount of grumbling, Dustin manhandles his backpack and steps out. He goes to shut the door, but pauses. “You know, you saved my life too. I’ve got your back no matter what. Okay?”

His eyes sting, so he itches his nose. Clears his throat to make sure it won’t crack when he says, “Yeah, Dustin, I know. You too.”

The next second he’s gone and Steve, alone in his car, is left to think that maybe...ASL lessons might not be so bad.

#stranger things #steve harringing #robin buckley #dustin henderson #hard of hearing steve harrington #hoh steve harrington #platonic stobin #steve later: I should talk to him about trying to get people to out themselves #also he FOR SURE tells robin about it #and regrets it immediately #cut to him and eddie dating and dustin just gives them the smuggest look #my writing

[captainjacklyn]

I wonder how headcanons of Azul, Jamil, and Malleus would look like with a fem!mc who is a sea serpent that can switch between human and dragon form?

Sounds great ! I hope you enjoy these head canons, have a great day and stay safe.

Pairing(s) : jamil x reader, malleus x reader, azul x reader

Warning(s) : cussing, and a lot of it. Some crack here and there but not my best shots to be quite frank with you I think this is my worst post so far and I'll do my best to improve and update it. Also I hate the knew banners I put for my characters so I'll go and fix it.

Azul, Jamil and Malleus reacting to a sea serpent F!mc

Well he surely wasn't expecting this.

You don't possess magic but you can transform into a 32 foot sea snake....Doesn't that count as magic-

You luckily aren't a threat to him and he isn't one to you. Well...Not anymore at least. I head canon that when people overblot their mind is taken over by all the negative thoughts (meaning their in a way controlled) yet their body still shows signs of certain emotions such as trembling when afraid.

So when he noticed your enormous dragon head poking from the open walls of Scarabia, He was shaking to death.

Just turning into a jack hammer like :

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR-

Kalim : "am I the only one who finds it weird that Jamil is vibrating right now ?"

Floyd : "who cares ! it's fucking hilarious, hey shrimpy roar."

Now overblot Jamil went through the ceiling after hearing that ear drum breaking sound.

Azul : "....Is he dead ?"

Jade : "Most likely but I don't think so because he just slammed back down."

WAKES UP IN A HOSPITAL WITH A BRAIN CONCUSSION

"I-I have nothing besides the fact that you just scared me shitless" Great. know he's constipated.

You are fucking GINORMOUS and big is a HUGE underestimation.

Don't try to eat him. don't try to eat him name, don't- Aaand you just did.

Spit him out. wha- No that won't insult him ! you're eating the guy alive and liking octopus as a meal isn't a FUCKING COMPLIMENT.

azul is impressed, horrified and offended.

Don't look at me with those 'I told you' eyes, eating a very much alive being won't flatter them YOU LITTLE-

A N Y W A Y S

The man is scared but he's also impressed with your power, being able to transform into a gigantic monster as its perks.

When people mess with you the respect is quickly gained with one transformation and demonstration of your capabilities.

Besides the fact that you can cause so much fucking damage.

HOW THE FUCK HAVEN'T YOU SWALLOWED CROWLEY YET ?!

He doesn't taste good- SO YOU SAY YOU WOULD RATHER EAT THE GUY YOU LIKE AND THE ONE YOU HATE LIVE ?!

god damn it mc.

Two words : DRAGON LOVERS

you both are so fucking adorable, I just imagine the both of you taking a nap in your dragon forms just cuddled up together.

A bit like this :

pretend being a sea snake in dragon form, IT'S SO FUCKING ADORABLE.

but now that NRC knows about you two and your true forms, I pray not for Crowley and his "stress".

chew. him. out.

yes, I know you said no cause he tasted like shit but deal with it. I ain't helping, more like I can't cause he's in your stomach and- Wait a minute.

Did you just eat him alive ?!

I said chew not swallow !

sigh...Malleus ?

But besides the fact that Crowley now resides in your digestion, you and malleus are good for marriage.

Two dragons ruling over a kingdom of faes, if anyone says that you lack knowledge in magic they got another thing coming.

What is surprising is that you come from the waters while he lives in the sky and dry lands. It reminds me of the little mermaid who wishes to meet the guy she saw once, and as a mermaid Ariel has to stay in water meanwhile her love at first sight cliché stays on dry land.

There was a small French story as well which can only be found in a children's book that I used to read as a kid.

It's between a dragon who belongs in the water and the female one who is the rainbow dragon who paints the colors of the sky.

Should I make a fic about this ? I don't know.

Just two adorable dragon lovers and-

Mc swallow Crowley back I do not want to see him.

Hope you enjoyed and I'm sorry for not being active today much often.

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #writer #twst meme #twst wonderland #twst yuu #twst #twst fanart #disney twisted wonderland #twst malleus #twst azul #twst azul ashengrotto #twst au #twst angst #twst asks #twst jamil #twst azul ashengrotto x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x y/n #twst x yuu #twst x you #twisted wonderland x you #twisted wonderland x y/n #twst mc #twisted wonderland malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus draconia #diasomnia

[gumnut-logic]

Sweetapple Slices - Slice 2

Sweetapple | Dear Mr Tracy | Along the way | Slice 1 | Slice 2

@idontknowreallywhy asked a question and I tried to answer it, but Alex and Virgil refused to behave, so we have a fic, but no answers. Also, fic is sugary sweet goop.

Oh, and it should be noted that all these Slices are standalone fics within the universe - consider them slices of life with these two :D

Many thanks to @onereyofstarlight for the read through. Again, I might need to offer her that dental plan. Also to @idontknowreallywhy for egging me on.

I hope you enjoy this romantic sugar fest.

-o-o-o-

“You know, isn’t all this stuff secret?” Alex gestured around him.

Virgil shrugged and tilted his head. “You looking to sell it to anyone?”

Alex’s eyes widened. “God, no! I wouldn’t-“

The rescue operative grabbed him by both arms. “Hey, I’m kidding. We know you wouldn’t do such a thing.”

Alex froze. “We?”

Those gorgeous biceps relaxed just a little. “You don’t think we let just anyone onto our Island, do you?” And he arched a lovely eyebrow.

“You have such beautiful eyebrows.”

Both suddenly shot up.

Oh, did he say that out loud?

Eh, blame it on the concussion…from a few days ago now. The Tracy family had shown no sign of needing to kick him, or his mum, off this amazing chunk of rock. Today Virgil was off rota and Thunderbird Two was set for regular maintenance, so he had been asked down here to ‘keep Virgil company’.

So far ‘maintenance’ had consisted of staring up at the great green Thunderbird, staring around her hanger, an extended session of smooching under her tail fin, and now he was sitting on the edge of Thunderbird Two’s co-pilot seat caught between stunned amazement and the percentage chance of another snoggy in the corner.

Any corner. There were at least four in the cockpit. Did that roof hatch open?

Honestly, he had never thought this would be his state of mind when he finally got to see all of this up close.

Of course, it wasn’t the first time he had been aboard Thunderbird Two. But last time had been sudden and unexpected and his brain had been fretting over so many things.

Now he was so happy he was likely to blow a blood vessel or something.

“Yours aren’t bad either.”

What? He scrolled the conversation back a little. Oh, eyebrows. Huh. “Never thought about them much. Yours, however, definitely require thorough consideration.” He reached up a hand, and hesitating for permission, brushed a finger the length of Virgil’s left eyebrow.

Chocolate eyes eyed him from beneath. “This is new.”

Be daring. “All of this is new.” He withdrew his hand.

“You have a point.” As if in revenge, Virgil reached up and brushed a tangle of Alex’s messy blond hair behind an ear. “I can definitely get used to it.”

He also had the most beautiful smile.

Okay, he had to stop this line of thought before he grabbed Virgil and really embarrassed himself.

“Um, yeah.” He gestured vaguely around the cockpit. “How long have you been flying Thunderbird Two?”

Virgil sat back a little and let go of Alex. “Nine years as her primary pilot. Took over from my Uncle in ‘55. Though there has been some downtime during that time.”

“And you keep her maintained?”

“Me and Brains.”

“Who’s Brains?”

Virgil’s lips twisted. “You haven’t met him yet.”

Oh.

“Don’t worry.” Virgil reached across the dash and flipped a few switches. “He tends to keep to himself. I’ll drag him out of his lab later.” His finger retreated to his jawline. “I think you’ll like him.”

“I will?”

“You’ll see.”

Okay, be mysterious.

“Would you like some coffee?”

Alex stared at him. “You’re really asking that question? Even after how many times I’ve managed to steal coffee off of you.”

Virgil smirked as he stood up. “It was really only once and you were very amusing.”

“Amusing!”

Virgil was laughing as he strode over to a corner of the cockpit, hit some buttons, and revealed the holy grail of all coffee.

Alex couldn’t help but stand up and be drawn to it. Virgil had given him the plans to this creation from heaven, but between Siliwrap and Virgil’s visits, he hadn’t managed to find time to finish putting it together yet.

Besides there was something about the coffee being handed to him by a visiting handsome rescue operative that was its own kind of addictive.

And Virgil always brought plenty.

His drug dealer of choice, apparently.

“Hey, you still with me?” A hand was on his arm and Alex realised he had been standing, staring at the holy grail like a stunned mullet just a little too long.

Virgil had that worried medical frown on his face again.

He had done that a lot over the last couple days.

The man had enough bruises on his arms and legs to pop Alex’s eyes out of their sockets - something about a roof almost falling on him during the Gisborne rescue. Yet Virgil brushed it off as a day-to-day thing.

He was ‘fine’, don’t you ‘worry’, happens ‘all the time’.

But the scattering of bruises Alex possessed, the headache that popped up every now and again, and any slight croakiness of his voice and Virgil was all over him with that yellow scanner thing.

Speaking of which…

Alex grabbed Virgil’s wrist gently as he attempted to wave a randomly appearing scanner over Alex’s head. “I’m okay, Virgil.”

The wrist in his hand relaxed and the yellow light switched off. A gentle tug and Alex let Virgil’s wrist go and the man turned away, stashing the gadget back into wherever it came from.

It was very obvious that Alex had scared him by being caught in the earthquake.

Alex took that extra step closer, slipped up behind, and slid his arms around the man’s chest, resting his chin on Virgil’s shoulder. “I’m okay.”

Heavy lifting arms wrapped around his. “I know.”

“You do realise you have brought me into the presence of the machine that makes your glorious coffee. I mean, I should be kneeling on the floor, bowing in reverence.” A smile. “Give me something to hold so I can drop it in amazement.”

Virgil chuckled. “I doubt you could pick me up.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Virgil twisted himself around in Alex’s arms until they were facing each other. “I could say that you already have, but that pun line is groan-worthy.”

Alex did groan, but then Virgil’s lips found his and he was suddenly very much distracted.

Yes, this corner would do nicely.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #alexander sweetapple #virgil tracy/alexander sweetapple #romance #nuttyfic

[respectfulkitfistosimp]

The Abode

A Kayn lol x reader fanfic part 4 master list

You disliked the pop artists that your coworkers would listen to while you worked but now you found yourself humming the lyrics and beats of their songs, you would give everything in your power to listen to them again but you wouldn't work 48 hours straight ever again. You had started to regret your desicions to come here, all of the benefits that were promised and delivered to you suddenly lost their meaning as you started to get homesick, you missed your parents, your friends and even the walk to university or the hospital, you also missed only knowing Kayn as a character in a game that the guy you hated the most in your world played with rather that an actual person who for some reason loved to interact with you, you had no idea why you found him so annoying, the poor acolyte hadn't done anything, maybe it was the fact that the guy you hated used to play him in the game? Yeah, maybe that was it, or maybe you just simply didn't click together, that was also possible. It was almost as if your complains summoned him as he just walked into the infirmary without even knocking, you scolded him each time he did that citing possible cases as to why he should knock, "what if I'm changing?" Or "what if I'm treating a patient and they need privacy?" Were things that you would say, he shrugged with a smug look on his face each time and that only annoyed you more.

—I got hurt again, doc—he said, he had started taking a liking to calling you "doc", saying that doctor is too strict.

—Let me take a look—you replied and thought "what a surprise", putting a lot of effort in not rolling your eyes as you inspected the wound that was finally something worth treating—are you normally this careless?—you asked him as you started to treat the injury.

He shrugged with a smug look yet again before replying—only since you started working here.

You had no idea what he meant by that, was he flirting with your or did something happen to his head? It was most likely his head, it would explain all of his weird behavior but unfortunately for him you never expected to specialize on neurology, but you could do the next best thing and look for any signs of a possible concussion and somehow you found nothing.

—I didn't hit my head if that's what you were wondering—he said, finding the situation funny.

—That you remember—you said, feeling as if you've had this conversation before

He said something after but you didn't answer him though, honestly you didn't even hear what he said as you examined the horrible state his hair and scalp was in, it was a crime to have such beautiful and long hair and not take care of it, so for first and last time in your life you were going to go the extra mile for him.

—Let me make you some rosemary oil for your hair and some nettle oil too—you said, finally separating your hands from his head—do you mind getting some rosemary and nettle for me? I've got no clue where I can find them.

Kayn looked at you full of confusion for a couple of seconds before his entire face started to glow from.... happiness? excitement? It seemed like those were the emotions he was experiencing but you had no idea why, how come he was so happy to do such a simple task for you? Maybe he was actually happy that his hair would get better? Yes, that was why, you would react the same way if you were in his shoes. Just to make sure he wouldn't forget what you needed you wrote it down on a piece of paper, along with a note for him to give to Zed in case he asked Kayn why he wasn't training.

—Thanks, I appreciate that—you handed him both pieces of paper, he folded them and placed them in his pocket after reading each one—take a break today just in case, come to me if the wound gets worse, alright?—he nodded alond with a "yes, doc", at least he knew how to listen.

He didn't leave though, for some reason he just stared at you like he was reading you, trying to take a peek into your very soul and so much staring started to make you nervous, you mouth went dry and you started to fidget with the edges of your coat, tilting your head in confusion.

—You're different today—he said, tilting his head too but not trying to annoy you.

You tried to come up with an excuse but no thought crossed your mind, it was weird how he could just render you speechless when you would normally be able to bullshit your way out of any situation. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, it did barely nothing but at least you stopped fidgeting.

—Tell me your story—he asked, kindness filling his voice.

Luckily you were prepared for that question, otherwise you wouldn't even know what to say as you obviously couldn't simply say that you came from another universe, in fact you didn't even know why you were here now.

—I used to live in what's now Noxian territory—you started, sitting on your desk—I had a clinic there where I treated people—you kept your story short and simple, that way it'll be easier to remember in case you had to lie again.

—What about your family?—he rested his back on the chair, genuinely interested.

—My parents were good, hardworking people, I was their only child so they wanted what was best for me—you faked a homesick look—I wanted to be a doctor since I was a kid and they busted their asses working for me to achieve that—you chuckled, that part was true—then came the noxians and, well, you can guess what happened next.

Kayn stared at you, understanding filling his eyes as you kept a soft but sad smile, even if the reason behind such a smile was different it didn't matter, whether it was from homesickness because everyone you knew was dead or in another universe it was still a sad, cold feeling. He looked down at his hands, thinking of what to say to comfort you but ultimately coming up with nothing, he had never been good at this kind of stuff.

—It's alright though, I've had a long time to digest it—you reassured him, that allowing him to lift his head to look at you.

—I'm sorry—was all he could say, you started to feel a little guilty for lying to him.

You sighed before opening a jar, taking out a piece of candy from it and offering it to him.

—Don't be, it wasn't your fault.

Kayn took the candy from your hand, inspecting it for a second before unwrapping it and propping it into his mouth, the sweetness from it making him smile, you thought he looked better that way. All of the actual homesickness you were feeling that day, all of the regret and bitterness getting blown away just because of that simple smile, you gritted your teeth knowing what that meant and being afraid of it, it was easy for you to fall for a person who showed the slightest bit of interest in you and that made you scared, you didn't want to get your hopes up only to be let down like before, much less for someone who you were in charged of keeping healthy and was fighting in a literal war, not knowing whether he'll make it back alive.

—Go to your room and get some rest—you told him, trying to make it sound like you were caring for him when in reality you were just caring for yourself.

He nodded with a smile, ignorant of the turmoil it caused on you and left after thanking you. This time you didn't wait to let go of a shaky breath, your hand flying to your mouth as you tried to calm yourself down, thinking that you were being extremely dramatic you moved to the open window and the smell of incoming rain calming down your nerves and numbing the turmoil in your head as you consciously focused on it, then you found a resolution to your problem, you would burry your feelings deep inside your heart and just become so insufferable that he wouldn't even want to live in the same place as you, but since he's been in the order for much longer than you Zed would fire you and you would explore the world or something, your plan was so good that you were ready to start it that very night.

Once darkness fell and a storm started you stood at the top of the stairs, your hair a mess as it covered your face, the hollering winds and the rain adding to the atmosphere, this right here was more than just a plan, this was retribution, this was vengeance. Kayn called your name and for a split second you heard him stutter, you had a very interesting although mostly useless ability to make a clicking noice with your throat and as you dragged your feet to the stairs while doing that noise you stared at him thru the hair covering your face, once it was time to actually go down the stairs you took inspiration from a very well known movie and turned and twisted your body in a way that you were going down the stairs in all fours with your back arched, the first couple of steps you went down carefully, not wanting to break your neck and become an actual ghost. By the time you reached about half way down the stairs you just suddenly picked up your speed and finally you heard him scream like he was getting his guts pulled out and dart away from you so fast that after a blink you couldn't see him anymore, when you actually reached the end of the stairs you stood up as upright as possible, feeling so many muscles in your back ache after the stunt you pulled but the sheer joy that it brought you made you forget about the pain. At first you tried your hardest not to laugh, even going as far as to cover your mouth with your hand, but you just couldn't keep it in and finally you laughed your ass off so hard your knees went weak, making you fall to the ground.

#kayn league of legends #kayn lol #kayn x reader #kayn #kayn x you #kayn x y/n

[ambiguouspenny]

I would love to hear about see a friend see a ghost or the hearing loss fic. whichever one you'd like. (or both, both is good :D )

Hello! I can do both!

see a friend (see a ghost) is my baby. We call her "Hellfic" and not for no reason. I have the first chapter completed and I have a lot of accompanying art planned to go with it. I am withholding a lot of details for now until I can get my first chapter up, but I want to have another chapter or two under my belt before I post it. It's a canon divergence au, and what I can say is that whenever I'm working on it I just think "I'm going to need folks to hold onto that 'angst with a happy ending' tag for dear life, and just trust me"

the-TK-hearing-loss-fic is the first idea I had come to mind when I walked into this fandom and found we had a boy out here always getting concussed. I wanted to tackle the idea of what developing a sensory disability would mean for TK and those around him in his line of work and what all of that would mean for his sense of self and his relationships.

I put this on pause because see a friend (see a ghost) came to me one night fully formed and I had to dive into it and because I want to make sure I'm taking this subject really seriously and there's a lot of research that needs to happen to allow me to do that.

I do have a small little tester snippet of it though that I will leave below, it's not a perfect representation of what I think the fic will become so proceed with care and caution. I'm always open to feedback on the subject also!

Disclaimer: This may contain some medical inaccuracies, as this is the idea in its infancy. The first word Carlos learns to sign for TK is “soulmate.” It was early on, a week or so after they’d sat next to each other in the audiologist’s office as they were told how things would go as TK lost his hearing. It would happen slowly at first, and then all at once it would be gone. It was a weird thing, to receive such a terminal prognosis for something other than dying.

TK was at home. He’d taken a few days of leave to try and situate himself with this new reality. He was also trying to get used to the hearing aids. They wouldn’t work forever, the doctor had said, sitting across from TK and Carlos, demonstrating how to turn them on and increase the volume and where to change their batteries. They wouldn’t work forever, but they’d prolong the inevitable for just a little while longer.

He’d removed them, shutting them off and placing them back into the tiny plastic case by the time Carlos came home. He didn’t hear the clunk of the deadbolt or the roll of the door as it opened, so he’d startled when Carlos came around the corner, setting an arm full of groceries on the counter.

“Hi— Baby.” TK says, hoping not to trigger any alarms of concern from Carlos. It doesn’t work.

“Shit, why aren’t you wearing your hearing aids TK?” TK makes out Carlos asking as he walks from the kitchen to the couch, abandoning the groceries.

“They give me a headache.” It’s not a lie. But the truth is that TK just wants to go back, wants things to just be normal for a little while longer. Carlos gives him a knowing look, because of course he knows, but he doesn’t question it, doesn’t push or insist that TK take an ibuprofen and keep on trying to adjust to this new scary thing in their lives.

Instead Carlos sits down in front of TK and grins. “I learned something today!” He says, and TK can’t help but notice the way he’s looking at him, making sure his face is clear and visible enough for TK to read his lips if he needs to.

“What did you learn today baby?” TK asks him and he can’t shake the smile that builds up in his chest and shows up written across his face. Because everything sucks right now but Carlos is looking at him like he loves him, and like he’s not broken. TK watches as Carlos sits back just a little bit and can tell by the way Carlos situates himself and his hands that he’s getting ready to show him something in sign language.

Carlos had started studying ASL immediately after their appointment. TK had been avoiding it. Now he tries to ignore the sting in the back of his throat that makes him want to scream. This is what their future looked like, it was not what he’d imagined for them. But here was Carlos, a week into the rest of their lives, already learning a new language just for him.

TK watches the flurry of Carlos’ hands. Carlos is careful with each gesture, each placement of his fingers handled like something delicate. When he’s finished, he sits back and looks at TK, waiting for a response and it takes a moment but when TK realizes what Carlos is waiting for he bursts into a giggling fit, burring his face against Carlos’ chest.

“What’s so funny??” Carlos asks, and its almost clear because of how close his mouth is to TK’s ear.

TK sits up, “baby, I don’t know what that means yet. You have to tell me!” And then they are both cracked apart with laughter and TK thinks about how normal it feels and tries not to get stuck there. “Show me again!”

With same the careful handling of each movement, Carlos starts again, this time he speaks each word out loud with it’s accompanying gesture:

“You” “Are” “My” “Soulmate.”

#wip tag ask #hellfic name reveal

[abyssalpeach]

up against the ropes (a matcha blossom fic). rated e. also on ao3.

"Are you sure you don't have a concussion?" Kojiro's voice lowered to a hoarse whisper.

"Positive."

a/n: i promise this started out totally normal and achingly tender before the brain worms whispered The Unholy Headcanon to me. pls forward this to my lawyer for when they come to take me away to horny jail.

anyway cheers to posting fic on tumblr again because somebody around here needs to start clogging the mb tag

Life was slowly returning to normal after the fateful S tournament where Langa had thoroughly whooped Ainosuke’s ass at his own game and Kaoru came out the other end seriously injured.

He had sustained a sprained ankle, a minor concussion, and the big one: a hairline fracture to his wrist.

He’d been lucky enough through the years to be a skilled and precise enough skater to avoid most injuries that would impede his work, but his luck had to run out eventually. Kaoru was honestly surprised it took even this long. He was not immune to bailing every once in a while.

But now his skating had massively affected his income for the first time in his entire adult life. It was a good thing he was self-employed and in an artistic profession where he could make his own rules and use art block as an excuse to push a deadline a little, but it didn’t stop him from feeling uncomfortable with it.

His injuries on the other hand, were harder to explain away when they were so visible. He had to come up with an excuse at some point, and for someone with as much pride and poise as Kaoru, a nasty spill down the stairs was simply not a believable reason.

So, he told the truth. At least, as much of it as he was comfortable telling. He fell off a skateboard. Whether they inferred that he was a novice and simply trying to entertain one of his young relatives was none of his concern. They could think what they like.

He would’ve rather said that he’d gotten hit by a car, but it would surely look suspicious if he wasn’t involved in any kind of investigation or trial afterwards. Best to stick as close to the real story as possible and let people draw their own conclusions.

People were surprisingly generous with him during his time of injury. Maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised, but his clientele always struck him as being fairly rigid. That’s why he took out all of his piercings and did his best to compartmentalize the different areas of his life. The resistance he was expecting to be met with when he was forced to push back dates for demonstrations and signing events was practically non-existent.

These things happen, they would say, as if he wasn’t a twenty-something year old professional admitting to falling off a skateboard. The reactions had him questioning whether or not he needed to be so cautious with his presentation and reputation after all.

There were too many things going on in his life that he was second-guessing now. Nothing was what it seemed to be anymore and he’s not entirely sure what to make of it. Kaoru spent so much time doing calculations, statistics, risk assessments, and not even the data could support the litany of weird shit he was enduring the past few months.

He really had come to terms with the fact that he was always going to be a little bit in love with Kojiro. He was always the nurturing sort, but he’d never gotten to experience it to that degree before. They spent every waking hour together for three whole weeks and somehow hadn’t killed each other yet.

Kaoru knew he was a needy person, and a jealous one at that. If he took it out on Kojiro unnecessarily sometimes, he was met with retaliation, and rightly so. He just couldn’t help himself. Kojiro could slut himself out to whoever he chose, but Kaoru would be damned if any of those women received the five-star treatment from Kojiro that he got.

No one could rile Kojiro up like he could. No one could critique Kojiro’s cooking like he could. No one could understand Kojiro like he could. Sure, they may have his bed for a night if they were lucky, but Kaoru held onto Kojiro’s heart with a vice grip and wouldn’t relinquish it for anything.

If Kaoru was going to be forced to live a life without enduring romance or marriage, he would make sure Kojiro was too. They were in this together, god dammit, they had been since they were in fucking kindergarden. They’ve done everything together for decades, that wasn’t about to change.

Maybe it wasn’t the best mentality for him to have, actually he knew it wasn’t, but he couldn’t exactly talk himself out of his own feelings. Lord knows he’s tried to do that enough times over the years. A crush on his straight best friend and the biggest fuckboy in town. It was so embarrassing.

It was honestly kind of sick, this game that he’s been playing with Kojiro in his own mind. Maybe he just liked the thrill of the chase or always wanted things he couldn’t have and wouldn’t even know what to do if he got what he wanted, but these thoughts remained in the back of his mind throughout the years and all their petty squabbles. Life changes, but Kojiro never does.

He really needed to be less selfish. It’s not as though he deserved Kojiro’s kindness. The man has surely spent an ungodly amount of money throughout the years just to feed him. He probably writes it off as a business expense on his taxes, the damned fool.

“You’re my taste tester,” Kojiro rationalized. “I shamelessly use your discerning palette and instead of paying you in money, you would rather be paid in carbonara. You’re doing me a service.”

He’d do him a service alright. Glorious idiot.

It was a special kind of torture sharing space with him for so long. Waking up to breakfast in bed, afternoons spent doing nostalgia rewatches of their favorite stupid childhood shows, elaborate dinners, being bathed by him. It was… intimate. There really was no other word for it. Every night they parted ways after Kojiro had diligently washed his hair and dragged a soapy cloth across his back, every night he expected the tension to get the better of them, and every night Kojiro eased Kaoru into bed and excused himself to the couch.

And that was it. The cast and splint came off and Kojiro went home. His entire routine had been disrupted now. He had gotten used to all of the attention and care. And they still hadn’t killed each other. That part continued to baffle him. He didn’t feel smothered. Kojiro wasn’t sick to death of his neurotic behavior. If anything, he felt closer to Kojiro than ever before. It was like there was a seismic shift in the earth under him and he was, what? Expected to go back to how things were before? Fat chance.

He was able to repeat the same movements as before, going to Sia la Luce after he finished up with clients for the day, going to S together, working on improvements for Carla well into the night before passing out under the kotatsu. But something was missing. Big surprise, it was Kojiro. He hardly needed Carla to spell that one out for him.

It’s later than usual by the time he arrives at Sia la Luce, the lights in the dining room are already off, save for the ones above the counter he’s claimed as his own. The door is unlocked, but Kojiro is nowhere in sight.

He wanders into the kitchen to see if there’s something in the cooler worth raiding, but he finds his best friend casually sitting on the floor.

“Oh, hey. Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in,” Kojiro brings the bottle of whatever he’s drinking up to his mouth.

“That’s alright, I was overstepping my boundaries anyway.”

Kojiro lets out a thunderous laugh. “I hardly have boundaries when it comes to you, but good of you to own up to it.”

“Shut up, asshole,” he laughs. It’s a bit awkward. They need to have a serious conversation for once, and they both know it. “By the way, I... wanted to thank you.” Kaoru avoided his gaze, weight shifting between his feet.

Kojiro simply stared, not sure he was hearing that correctly. Kaoru continued, “For taking care of me.”

That seems to please him. “Somebody’s gotta do it. Not like Carla can carry you to bed.”

“Oh, fuck off. I’m trying to be nice.”

“You could certainly stand to do it more often, considering how much I feed you.”

Kaoru smiles softly, gaze dropping to his feet. “What are you doing on the floor anyway?”

“Having a beer, obviously. Want one?” Kaoru shook his head, moving to join him on the floor. He continued, “It was just a long day. Feet hurt.”

“Chairs too sophisticated for neanderthals now?” It almost sounded like a pet name.

“Is work going alright? How’s your wrist?”

“I’m fine, Kojiro. You don’t need to worry after me, you know.”

“Somebody should.” His answering smile is almost sad.

Silence fell heavily between them. Carla could never give him this. Ainosuke certainly never did. It was just Kojiro. Always Kojiro. “Would it be weird to say that I miss you?”

“I hope not, because I miss you too.”

“We should do something. See a movie, maybe.”

“We should. A movie sounds great actually, there’s one I was kinda wanting to see.” Kojiro pulls his phone out and is looking up showtimes, forwarding him a link to the trailer as he goes. It doesn’t look half bad for an action movie. It looks fun and fairly mindless, as they tend to be.

It’s a bit late and they’ve missed the last showing of the night, but they make a plan to go tomorrow. They settle back into their companionable, if slightly awkward, silence. Kojiro nurses his beer and Kaoru steals glances at his large hands, veiny and strong. His motions are not his own as he reaches for one and holds their palms up together, noting the difference in size.

Kojiro’s hands have always been a morbid fascination of his. He just likes to suffer, apparently. They’re large, but dextrous, with a couple prominent veins down the back. There’s some hair there now, not much, but it certainly wasn’t there when they were younger. What’s always been there is the smattering of freckles. Loathe as he is to admit it, he loves when Kojiro gets really tan and the freckles come out even more.

Kojiro’s hands have a couple burns on them and are a bit calloused from all the cooking and skating and working out. It almost makes him wish his own hands had half as much character. They’re soft and slender, not even particularly masculine, just generic. The only noteworthy thing about his hands is what they’re able to create.

Perhaps in this moment, he could use his hands to express the depth of his feelings to Kojiro. Something to avoid having to say it out loud.

Kojiro is watching their hands with rapt attention, his eyes soft but… pained? Before Kaoru can get the wrong idea about Kojiro rejecting him in that moment, he finds their fingers laced together. He’s never felt so warm.

“Kaoru…”

His face is so close. Kaoru can feel his warm breath on his cheek. He can feel his own blush. He dares a look into Kojiro’s eyes and finds everything he could’ve ever hoped for, but was too scared to imagine.

“Are you sure you don’t have a concussion?” Kojiro’s voice lowered to a hoarse whisper.

“Positive.”

Kojiro’s hand was in his hair, bringing him close to brush their lips together, breathing him in before sealing his mouth over his. A pathetic noise rose from Kaoru’s chest, barely escaping his throat. Kojiro wanted to swallow it. Their hands were everywhere, tangled in hair, tracing along faces, scrambling at arms and shoulders.

They kiss just long enough for reality to sink in, pulling back with startled gasps.

He supposes astonishment is the best adjective to describe the look Kojiro gives him now. His own expression surely isn’t much different. But Kojiro raises their entwined hands to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to the back of his hand.

“Are you hungry,” he asks, as if they haven’t just crossed a line they hadn’t dared tread in the twenty years they’ve known each other. Kaoru nods slowly before letting his forehead rest against Kojiro’s.

“I’ll make your favorite,” his voice is a low rumble, sending shivers down Kaoru’s spine. Kojiro’s knees give an ominous crack when he rises from the floor, making him groan and Kaoru chuckle quietly.

“We’ll see who’s laughing when you get carpal tunnel. Don’t forget you’re next, pinky,” his smile is more disarming than ever, with hand outstretched to assist him off the floor. Kaoru takes the proffered hand, but not without getting in a jibe of his own.

“Maybe if you spent a little less time doing squats…”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not checking out my ass.” Kojiro’s laugh is thunderous when he sees Kaoru floundering for a comeback, knowing he’s been busted.

The rest of the evening passes without any more shocking revelations. Mostly it’s just… normal. There might be marginally less bite to their bickering and the glances they exchange might be a bit more tender, but it’s far from unusual. It’s familiar, and he knows that he’s safe, no matter what that kiss will mean for their relationship when tomorrow comes.

He waits next to the front door while Kojiro finishes locking up. The night air is crisp, the breeze cool instead of warm – a sign that the weather is about to turn from scorching heat to mild and temperate. They may not have seasons in the traditional sense, but it’s not as though it can be hot all the time.

Kojiro walks him home, gentleman that he is. Kaoru would read into it if this wasn’t already part of their routine. A routine they’re so entrenched in that they part ways with a “see you tomorrow” and a friendly wave. No fanfare, no trepidatious kiss to the cheek, nothing.

It’s disappointing really.

He’s mostly on autopilot as he readies himself for bed, thoughts consumed by what tomorrow might bring, mixed in with visions of that tender kiss. His toothpaste foams at the corner of his mouth and the blush sits high on his cheeks. He looks insane.

What kind of giddy teenager has he turned into? He’s a grown man , he should not be so affected by a simple kiss that happened an hour and a half ago.

He hunkers down into his futon and tries to shake it off.

His dreams are of crimson eyes, so soft, and lips that are even softer.

*****

They decide to just meet up at the movie theater since Kojiro bought their seats ahead of time. He tried to pay him back, but Kojiro refused.

God, it was like a real date and they were fighting over the stupid check.

He’s wearing pants for a change. Well, they’re still hakama, he isn’t being too adventurous, but he did pair it with a black halter top. He really ought to wear these pants more. They’re a light sage green color and decorated with small white flowers. He knows they look good with his hair and the fabric feels downright sensual against his skin.

When Kojiro rounds the corner, he doesn’t spot Kaoru right away, giving him a chance to drink his fill of the sight of him. He’s got his black bomber on this time, the one with the leather sleeves that he typically only wears for special occasions.

He’s so fucked.

When they do finally lock eyes, Kojiro’s entire face lights up and strides over to meet him. He does not miss the appreciative way he looks Kaoru up and down. He shifts on his feet, unaccustomed to Kojiro being so brazen with him.

“You look great!” He’s honestly such a child, he’s so giddy. It’s charming as hell.

They head into the theater, making small talk along the way. It’s not often they have time off that lines up, but Kojiro closes early on Sundays and doesn’t reopen until Tuesday.

Kojiro spent his day tidying up around the house and planning menus. Kaoru mostly spent his day fussing over his hair and worrying about tonight, not that he would divulge that particular bit to Kojiro. Instead, he claims to have spent his afternoon tending to Carla’s operating system. If Kojiro sees through the lie, he doesn’t say anything.

They’re early enough that the trailers haven’t started yet, so Kojiro stands in line to get them snacks while Kaoru uses this opportunity to visit the restroom. When he emerges, he finds Kojiro leaning just a tad too far over the counter, talking conspiratorially to the snack counter girl. Before he has the chance to get upset though, Kojiro waves him over with a grin so dopey that it rivals one of the seven dwarves.

Kojiro hands him the sour candies he favors so much and pushes off from the counter. He’s got his own popcorn in one hand and the other draped casually over his shoulders as he walks them to their seats.

“Who was that,” Kaoru inquired, hopefully not sounding too jealous.

“Oh, that was one of Rini’s old friends! Haven’t seen her since she was like eleven years old!”

Rini was one of Kojiro’s younger sisters. He hopes his sigh of relief isn’t too noticeable.

They settle into their seats while Kojiro rambles on about Rini’s friend and how she’s getting ready to graduate and move to Tokyo, where Rini has been for the past year. The way Kojiro talks about the people in his family and their circle around them has always left Kaoru jealous. Not in the sense that he wants to be the only one in Kojiro’s life, but wishing he had something like that to call his own.

His parents weren’t exactly the warm and nurturing type, often keeping Kaoru at a distance. No matter how hard he rebelled as a teenager, nothing seemed to make them pay attention. They’d pay for anything else though: toys, skateboards, a car, tuition. Anything to get him off their back.

It had to be why he gravitated towards Kojiro so much. Just being in the Nanjo house, crowded and messy though it often was, there was love and family to be found there.

Kaoru really needed to get a grip. It’s not like Kojiro would be flirting with someone while they’re literally on a date. If that’s what this even is. Surely it must be. The movie plans predicated the kiss, but it was a pretty straight fucking line from A to B. There was definitely a charged undercurrent to this little outing.

Kaoru squirms in his seat, sneaking glances over at Kojiro’s form next to him. Don’t ask him what’s going on in the movie because all he knows is that Kojiro’s body language is open, but his hands are clutching his popcorn container. He offers it to Kaoru wordlessly, getting in his space and leaning over the armrest. He allows himself to indulge, but it’s not the popcorn he indulges in, it’s Kojiro’s proximity.

They remain close for the rest of the movie, still in their own seats and occasionally shifting to a more comfortable position, but their bodies lean towards each other like magnets. Sometimes Kojiro will whisper something to Kaoru and earn them a shush from someone behind them, making Kaoru outright giggle.

Everything is always funnier when you’re not supposed to be talking or laughing. It reminds him of high school, though usually he was the one getting Kojiro into trouble rather than the other way around.

Life has changed around them. They’re practically whole new people now, but through all their evolutions, they can’t shake each other. They always go together, balancing each other out perfectly.

He wonders if this new development of their relationship will throw a wrench into it all. Much as he wants this, he doesn’t know what he’d do without Kojiro. That’s his best friend. No one in the world knows him better. Maybe they’ll be okay.

In fact, he’s all but sure of it now.

The credits come sooner than either of them expects, and they slowly put themselves to rights and clean up their trash. They wander lazily towards the exit, probably holding up the people behind them.

It’s warmer outside than it was the previous night. The breeze blows through his hair, and it has Kaoru feeling wistful. He takes in a deep breath and looks up at the stars. Neither of them has anything left to say, really. They just stand there in companionable silence, wondering what comes next.

Kaoru looks over to Kojiro, and you’d think he never looked away from the sky for how starry his gaze looks. Kojiro steps close, gingerly tucking a loose hair back behind Kaoru’s ear. He has to take a steadying breath.

“Why don’t you stay at mine tonight,” Kojiro asks.

Unsure whether his voice will come out normal or not, he gives only a curt nod. “I brought the bike,” Kaoru gestures to the Carla motorcycle, trying to get his blush under control, “it’s right over there.”

Kojiro climbs on the back of the bike, legs spread wide and inviting. Kaoru slides between him and the handlebars, turning the ignition. Kojiro lets his hands fall to Kaoru’s waist and he scooches himself even further up. If he feels like he’s being smothered now, he has no idea how he’s going to make it through the rest of the night. The engine roars to life, creating encouraging vibrations beneath them.

Kaoru’s sense of urgency to get them back to Kojiro’s place is only heightened when his hands creep up his ribcage and back down to his hips. They get stopped by a light and Kojiro takes his opportunity to pull Kaoru’s hips even further into his own and drop a hot kiss to where his neck meets his shoulder.

The sound of the bike drowns out much of the obscene moan he lets out, for which he is grateful. They need to get home now.

They’re only a block or so away and Kojiro’s forehead is pressed between his shoulder blades as he tries to calm his breathing.

What feels like mere moments later, he pulls up outside Kojiro’s building and kills the engine. For all the build up, the two are frozen in place, still slotted against each other. This is it. Kojiro steps off the bike first, his hand coming into Kaoru’s line of vision. Their eyes connect and Kaoru can’t help but smirk. Kaoru puts his hand in Kojiro’s and lets himself be pulled from the bike. He doesn’t let go of Kojiro’s hand, even as he fishes through his pockets for his keys.

Once they finally make it into Kojiro’s apartment, they’re immediately reaching for each other. The kiss is explosive and they greedily paw at each other’s clothes. Kojiro’s jacket doesn’t even make it past the genkan. Kaoru’s hakama are hastily discarded so Kojiro can hoist him into the air, legs wrapping around his bulky frame. He sucks relentlessly on Kojiro’s lips and tongue, digging his fingers into his shoulders.

The pleased noises Kojiro makes are sure to haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. Kojiro steers them into his bedroom, dropping Kaoru gracelessly onto the bed. He wriggles out of his jeans and Kaoru grabs a fistful of his shirt, yanking him down on top of him.

They kiss and kiss and kiss, rolling and writhing together, not an inch of space between them.

Kaoru grabs two handfuls of his plump ass, grinding their hips together in a way so filthy that it has Kojiro practically choking for air. “Kaoru, fuck.” They’re both so hard, panting so heavily into each other’s mouths and they haven’t even gotten to the main event. Kojiro extracts himself from Kaoru long enough to grab the condoms and lube from his side table. Kaoru takes the moment to adjust his ponytail higher on his head and snatches the supplies right from Kojiro’s hands.

“Lay down,” his tone leaves no room for argument and Kojiro scrambles up to the headboard to heed him. “Good boy,” he praises before peeling him out of his boxer briefs and taking every impressive inch of him into his mouth.

He doesn’t even ease Kojiro into it, he’s too greedy. He’s immediately taking him all the way to the back of his throat and hollowing out his cheeks, groaning at the taste.

“Jesus fuck, Kaoru, take it easy,” he cries out, head thrown back. “I’m gonna blow my load before we even get to it.”

“Don’t tell me that your reputation is all bullshit.”

“Hey, give me a break! I’ve waited a long time for you, okay,” he runs his fingers through the ends of Kaoru’s ponytail.

“I’d hardly call that ‘waiting,’ you slept with everyone who fluttered their eyelashes in your direction.” Kaoru rips at the condom package and rolls it on, firmly placing the bottle of lube into Kojiro’s hand. He swings a leg over him, straddling his hips with another filthy grind.

“Of course you even wanna fight during sex,” he laughs into Kaoru’s mouth, pulling him down for a kiss, “can’t believe I expected anything less.”

“Yeah, shame on you,” Kaoru slips his tongue into Kojiro’s open mouth as he sinks a slick finger into his ass. The pressure punches a sharp moan from him, but he quickly relaxes into it, rocking his hips back into Kojiro’s hand.

Kaoru spends the next minutes sucking at every bit of skin he can get his mouth on. He wants to devour Kojiro, leave him without a shadow of a doubt who he belongs to. Kaoru drags the flat of his tongue over one of Kojiro’s nipples, keeping direct eye contact and giving it a few more kitten licks until Kojiro is a restless mess beneath him. He finally, finally sinks back onto Kojiro’s fat cock with a firm nip to his chin. He sits back on his haunches with a luxuriant roll of his neck. He can practically feel him in his throat. “Fuck, you’re huge.”

“God, Kaoru, you can’t say stuff like that,” he is clearly fighting for his life down there, “not if you want me to last.”

Kaoru can’t help but chuckle darkly, “Come on, big boy, I know you can do better than that.” Kojiro thrusts up harshly in retaliation. He takes that as an invitation to start moving, swiveling his hips, grinding down and getting used to the feeling of Kojiro inside of him. Kojiro presses his fingers into the meat of his thighs harshly as they sink into a rhythm.

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good,” Kojiro praises.

He wonders how many people he’s called that.

Maybe they should be going slower. Really relishing in the fact that they’re finally doing this after all this time.

Fuck that actually. They’ve waited long enough. They have all the time to go slow later. Now? Now they can be rabid and ravenous, biting and grabbing at each others’ flesh. That’s more their style anyway.

Kojiro throws his head back with a delicious groan. Kaoru only picks up the pace, riding him like it’s his fucking job.

“Kaoru, Kaoru, Kaoru…”

God, he could get used to this. He intends to get used to this, to Kojiro’s enormous body entwined with his, warming his bed, his moans, making his eyes roll back in his head just like that.

Kaoru whips his hair to the other shoulder and brings their mouths together again, panting heavily into each other’s mouths, touching foreheads damp with sweat.

“Kaoru… I’m not gonna last, Kaoru.”

He pours a kiss into his mouth. “Give it to me, Koji. Cum.”

He does what he’s told for a change. Liquid white heat runs through his body and seeps into his veins. Kaoru comes long and thick on Kojiro’s heaving chest, having an out-of-body experience or maybe ascending to a higher state of being.

He watches himself take one slender finger and drag it through his mess.

He marks Kojiro with a singular kanji, drawing it right there on his chest.

Mine.

Mine.

It’s so base of him. And certainly petty. He watches understanding dawn on Kojiro’s face and he worries he’s gone too far.

No. He needs to know.

“No one else.” He leaves no room for argument.

“There never was anyone who could live up to you anyway.” Kojiro agrees all the same, tucking a loose strand of pink hair back behind Kaoru’s ear.

He relaxes and drapes himself along Kojiro’s side, legs still tangled together. Their breathing slowly returns to normal and Kaoru can’t help but smell him. He needs to burn this into his memory in every conceivable way.

Kojiro shifts like he means to get up and start cleaning them off, but Kaoru grips his large bicep and effectively pins him with his gaze.

They can clean up in the morning. For now, they just let it sink in.

#matchablossom #matcha blossom #sk8 the infinity #matchablossom fic #sk8 fanfic #my writing

[streakyglasses]

now at last the worst is over (reel against your body's borders)

S.W.A.T (2017)

Chris Alonso/Jim Street, Chris Alonso & Jim Street, Chris Alonso & David Kay, hurt/comfort, tenderness, post 5x09, coda

Rating: T

Words: 3463

Whatever this thing is between her and Street is just that, a thing. An amorphous, ever-present Thing that is going to turn into Something at Some Point. And she has no idea what she’s going to do when it does. Or, Street helps take care of Chris after they get back from Langford.

Read here, or below the cut.

“Really, Deac, I’m okay. Street will be here in a few minutes with my truck, and he’s going to stay overnight to make sure everything is good, which it will be. Go home, be with Annie, and give everyone my love.” Chris’s hands play with the thin blanket on top of her as she looks Deacon straight in the eye. The day’s events in Langford are still only a few hours old, so she understands and appreciates his worry, but she also knows that she’s fine. Cuts and bruises, a sprained knee, cracked ribs, and a concussion are all things she’s dealt with before, and she tells Deacon as much, which makes him crack a small, wry smile despite himself. 

“Okay. But please call if you need anything.” He leans down and kisses her forehead, a move she’d usually wiggle away from but accepts gratefully given the circumstances. Heading out, he throws one last comment over his shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t worry about primping too much for Street, he likes you either way.”

With that, Deacon walks out, leaving Chris with her shock. She isn’t surprised he noticed, he’s always been able to read her better than the rest of the team, but she doesn’t like it, either. Whatever this thing is between her and Street is just that, a thing. An amorphous, ever-present Thing that is going to turn into Something at Some Point. And she has no idea what she’s going to do when it does, so she chooses to ignore it, badly, instead. 

Luckily, she isn’t mired in her thoughts for too long before she’s jolted out of them by a soft knock and the door squeaking open. Street smiles at her, bag of clothes in hand, and she swears she feels her heart skip a beat; the heart monitor doesn’t seem to pick it up. He walks to the bed and sits the bag down on the foot of it, pulling out shorts, a tank top, and a zip-up hoodie. 

“Do you need me to grab a nurse?” He asks, turning towards the door, “I know those leg braces can be a bitch.”

Chris, however, is already shimmying the shorts over her bruised legs. She pulls on the rest before taking off the hospital gown through gritted teeth. The act exhausts her, and she leans back onto the pillows before exhaling heavily and reaching over to hit the call button. 

“It’s fine, Street. And you can turn around. Like I told Deacon, it’s not my first rodeo. I just need them to unhook me and to sign the paperwork, and then we’re good to go.” She says with a closed-lip smile, unconsciously tapping her fingers to dispel her nervous energy. Just being alone with Street in the same room shouldn’t cause her stomach to feel like it’s full of butterflies, but it does. When he takes another step towards her, heat builds up in her cheeks that she hopes he can’t see. 

“By the way, my apartment is pretty devoid of groceries at the moment. So if we could stop somewhere, I’d appreciate it, unless you feel like playing chopped in my kitchen.” Street finally cracks a real smile, not one shadowed by worry or doubt, as he plops down in the chair next to her. 

“Sure thing. I can call in something at the sushi restaurant down the street, if you want?” 

Chris nods with a yawn. In the same moment, the nurse enters and begins to remove Chris’s heart monitor. 

“I take it this gentleman is staying with you tonight?” The pair nods simultaneously. 

“Perfect. They’re filling your prescriptions at the pharmacy downstairs now, and you need to be woken up every two hours for the next twenty-four hours, but get as much rest as possible between those check-ins. I need your signature on the bottom of this page.” The nurse holds out a clipboard which Chris signs quickly, more desperate to be in her own bed with each passing second. 

“I’m going to give this to the desk to process, and as soon as that happens, in about five or ten minutes, I’ll be back in with a wheelchair to walk you out.” She nods at Chris, and with that, it’s once again just the two of them. 

Chris clears her throat before she speaks, intentionally stilling her hands despite how badly she wants to wring them or hold onto the sheets or do anything to expel the excess energy coursing through her. 

“Thank you for staying, by the way. Maybe, uh, maybe in a few weeks when everything is settled again I can grab you a coffee as a thank you.” 

She doesn’t miss the look of surprise on Street’s face, quick as it is. It’s a small door, she knows, but the largest she’s willing to open given her own past and the rules they have to adhere to. Coffee is safe, it’s normal for a team member to grab another coffee, especially as a thank you, she rationalizes. Coffee can become something more, but it doesn’t have to. She doesn’t let her face betray anything else, any hope or worry that she’s pushed him away too much for him to be open to anything now. 

“I’d like that. I’ll go grab your meds so we can get you home. You’ve had a long day, and I’ve had a long day worrying about your long day.” He gives her the classic Jim Street smile, open in a way she’s never felt, and totally confident. She gets the impulse to reach out, to hold him in this moment forever until she’s mesmerized the exact shade of his eyes and every dimple and freckle on his face, but all too soon he turns away. Panic grips her chest for a second, enough to make the pain in her ribs flare up, and she takes the deepest breath she can to get it under control. She’s afraid, Chris realizes, of what will happen when they’re out of the hospital and at her apartment. Where, intentionally or not, he’s going to see more of her than she normally allows by virtue of him being in her home, the parts of her that she keeps hidden behind her walls at work. Rationally, she knows he’s been at her apartment before, but never overnight. Even when she was spiraling after Erika’s death, she never brought anyone back to her place. She always kept it out in the world, in a place she could run away from. She can’t run away from Street for much longer (and she’s not sure that she wants to, anyway.)

The nurse reenters with a wheelchair and helps Chris lower into it. A second later, Street is back, putting the small orange bottle in her bag before slinging it over his shoulder and opening the door for the nurse. 

Outside, the evening air feels like a new day as it washes over and through Chris. The blistering heat in the desert earlier that caused her lips to chap isn’t nearly as bad in California, and the sky is a blend of muted pinks and periwinkles dotted with stars that she can’t look away from. Street looks over at her, but seeing Chris unguarded and enamored is enough to make him not break the moment. It’s not often, if ever, people see her like this, and he tucks the sight away to linger on later. 

“I’m going to pull the car around.” He whispers to the nurse, who nods with a knowing smile. Street can’t help but look back at her, just like she did earlier, and he’s once again hit with a massive sense of relief that she made it out alive, and anger that she was hurt at all. 

The soft hum of the engine brings Chris out of her reverie. She chides herself for the amount of times her brain has gone fuzzy today, but considering the concussion, she can’t bring herself to care too much; she’ll have plenty of time to think comprehensive, consequential thoughts before she’s able to go back to work. 

Street jogs around to open the back passenger side door, stopping when Chris gives him a look. 

“I figure it’d be best for your leg to have it as elevated as possible. Humor me?”

“He’s right,” the nurse comments, “back seat is best until you regain some mobility in your knee.”

Chris sighs, grumbling a low “fine” before she steadies her breath and pushes herself up from the chair in one fellow swoop. As soon as she’s standing, Street’s by her side and wrapping his arm around her to support her weight, the nurse hovering in case she’s needed. 

“This okay?” He asks, and at Chris’s small nod, the two take a tentative step forward. It doesn’t feel good, but Chris manages the rest of the way before leaning her lower back against the edge of the seat. With the help of Street and the nurse, she gets settled semi-comfortably in the back seat, head resting against the back of the seat and eyes fluttering. Street thanks the nurse for the both of them before going back to the driver’s side, and starting back home. 

“Give me the crutches.” Chris says, voice groggy. She’s surprised she was able to sleep on the drive home; it’s a testament to Street’s driving through LA traffic, but she’ll never tell him that. 

“Chris, are you sure?”

“Street, you’re not carrying me, and there’s no elevator. It’s a flight and a half of stairs, I’ll live.” 

He sighs, but refuses to fight with her. He knows this is a bad idea, but if this is the quickest way to get Chris upstairs, then so be it. Once she’s got her feet underneath her, he adjusts the crutches and hands them over. 

“I saw a spot when I pulled in. I’m going to park, and I’ll be back in a second. I’m asking you, nicely, to not start up the stairs.” 

Chris wants to roll her eyes, but just the thought starts to give her a headache. 

“Fine, but hurry, please.” 

By the time they get to her door, Chris feels like she’s dying all over again. Her ribs are screaming, her breath keeps catching in her chest, and her leg is about to give out from under her. Street notices, worried, but still doesn’t say anything, just pulls the key from her bag and unlocks the door. Chris hobbles straight back to her bedroom, squinting against the light when she turns it on. She leans the crutches against her nightstand before lowering slowly into bed, letting out a breath when she gets her weight off her leg. 

“Here, let me help.” Street says, voice soft. Carefully, like he’s afraid to startle her, he arranges her pillows so that she can elevate her leg comfortably and her ribs are supported. His eyes run over her usually-tan skin as he pulls a light blanket over her. Cuts and bruises litter her arms and legs, her knee is swollen and a particularly nasty shade of purple, and he can only imagine how her back and torso look. He averts his eyes, unable to keep thinking about how close he was to losing her, and abruptly walks out of the bedroom before returning with a bottle of water and two small, white pills. 

His gaze lingers on her face, taking in the bruise blooming on her cheek and the butterfly bandages on her forehead. By the time he got to the hospital, they’d already helped her wash off the blood and dust, but he can’t stop seeing the trail of red that ran down her face when they landed in the desert. He blinks. 

“Chris?” Her eyes flutter open. 

“Hey, I have your meds. Better to take them now before the last dose wears off.” She nods, holding out her hand to take the pills, basking in the millisecond of time when their hands touch, and swallowing with a wince. 

“My card is in my wallet to order food. It’s the least I can do, just get me whatever. The TV remote’s on the table, or you can hang out in here, I don’t really care.” Chris can feel herself becoming delirious, not completely in control of her stream of thoughts or which ones she filters out. She holds eye contact with Street for another moment, long enough for him to see the trust she has in him, before they slip closed.

The third time he goes to check on her, she’s already awake. He peels himself off the couch, moving swiftly to her door, and stopping when he hears what sounds like a soft sob. He waits for a moment, and when the crying continues, turns the hall light on before entering the room. With the light on, Street can see the pain written all over Chris’s face. Her jaw is tense, hands clenched in the blankets next to her, and eyes screwed tight like if she closes them hard enough she can make everything disappear. Street swears his heart breaks when he notices the faint tear tracks running down her face, and before he feels his feet move, he’s kneeling next to her bed. 

“Chris?” His tone is gentle, and as far as he can tell, she doesn’t register that he’s there at all. 

“Chris?” He repeats, this time getting a broken whimper in response. Street can feel his own heart rate pick up, but knows he needs to stay calm. He brushes one of his hands against hers, and when she doesn’t flinch or pull away, wraps his palm around her white knuckles. In an effort to calm her down, he massages her hand until he feels her grip loosen some. 

“Good, that’s good. Can you open your eyes and look at me, Chris?” Immediately, Chris shakes her head. Before his eyes, Chris’s walls build up around her, and he knows she doesn’t know it’s happening, so he keeps pressing forward. 

“Chris, please? Let me see those beautiful eyes. It’s okay, you’re safe, I promise.”

It takes a few more minutes of his gentle platitudes before she cracks her eyes open. With his free hand, he uses his thumb to wipe away a few of the remaining tears dotting her face. He stays quiet, wanting to give Chris the space to come to and talk at her own pace. As she’s trying to get her breathing under control, a coughing fit overtakes her. Quickly, Street lifts her to sitting, adjusting the pillows so she’s as upright as she can be, and holds the bottle of water to her lips as she drinks some down. 

Feeling somewhat more calm but completely exhausted, Chris brings a shaky hand to her face to get her hair out of her eyes before it falls limply back to her side. She stares ahead as she talks, voice hollow but tinged with bone-deep pain. 

“Can you help me outside?.” 

The simple act of asking for help makes Chris’s voice cracks as she fights off more tears. There’s nothing harder for her than feeling weak and helpless, and it’s been years since she’s felt both so strongly. But Street doesn’t say anything, just nods and runs a hand down her back. 

“Do you want your crutches?” She shakes her head, slowly turning, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, and pushing herself to stand on her good leg. It’s then that Chris looks at Street, who’s doing everything in his power to produce a neutral a look as possible to not make her feel worse. Without talking, he moves to support her weight and they slowly make their way outside. A chill runs through her as she opens the door, and she winces as she tries to get settled on the small patio couch.

“Do you want me to grab you a blanket?” 

She shakes her head, swallowing.

“I won’t be able to be out here long with my leg anyway, I just felt like I was suffocating inside. I’m sorry you had to see that.” Their eyes meet his for just a second before she looks at the ground, worried about how this is going to change how he sees her. Street holds in a scoff, intentionally being mellow despite how he wants to make her understand that he loves her, and nothing on heaven or earth will change that. 

“Please, don’t apologize. You’re injured and in pain, Chris, there’s nothing weak about that, and it kills me to see you think that it does. I know you might not be ready to talk about what happened earlier right now, but I’ll be here when you do, and I hope that you know you can come to me about anything. Nothing that you do or say or go through will make me see you any differently.” He looks at the city skyline as he speaks, but feels Chris’s eyes on him at the end and risks looking over at her. 

“You know how I feel about you.” He says, reaching out and giving her hand a small squeeze before turning his gaze back to the horizon. They sit for another fifteen minutes before Chris breaks the silence. 

“Ready to go back in?”

Street stands and hums, holding out his arms for her to brace herself on as she gets up, pain thankfully dulled. Once they’re over the threshold, she motions her head towards her bedroom, and Street tightens his grip. 

Back in bed, Street again adjusts the pillows around Chris and turns to go back to the couch when her voice stops him. 

“Street. Stay with me?” The front door is open. The back door is open. Every damn door is open and Chris is all but inviting the Thing in with a confetti cannon; it makes me feel safe, she realizes, and right now that’s all she wants.

He thinks he misheard her at first, because there’s no way she just asked him to stay, presumably in her bed, but when he turns to look at her there’s no confusion in her face. She definitely asked, on purpose, and who is he to deny her. 

She feels the bed dip when he sits down and tries to turn on her side to face him. A jolt of pain that escapes in an involuntary gasp stops her, though, but Street’s hand coming to her cheek dulls it some. 

“Easy, I’ll come to you.” He settles onto his side, propped up on one elbow and leaving his other hand to trace over her face. His thumb brushes over her nose, eyebrows, flutters over the bruising, and lands at the peak of her lip. Chris leans her face into his touch, and opens her eyes to find him gazing at her so fondly it almost sets her on fire. 

“When Deacon and I were in the desert… Miguel asked me if I think about my family, and what they would go through if I, you know. And I told him I don’t think in worst case scenarios, and normally that’s true. Especially since Erika, I have to keep my heart calm to keep my head on straight. But, in Langford, Street, I was thinking about you. About everything unsaid, and this thing between us that terrifies me. And I know there’s a lot more that needs to be straightened out, and there are rules I can’t break and that I can’t ask you to break either, but I care about you. You’re the most important person in my life, Street, and I just need you to know that and to trust that.” It’s not as eloquent as she’d like, but she knows when it comes to him, her words always get caught up anyway.

Chris can see out of the corner of her eye that Street is speechless, and it blooms a sense of security in her that she wants to feel all the time. 

“I’m going to try to go back to sleep,” she starts, “but I’d like it if you held me until you have to wake me up again.”

Slowly, taking care to not jostle her sore body anymore, Street wraps himself around her. One arm sits lightly across her torso, while the other cradles her neck, letting her rest her head in the groove between his shoulder and chest. As soon as she’s comfortable against him, Chris lets herself truly relax for the first time in countless hours. His scent calms her, and the warmth from his body and the blanket lull her to sleep. Right before she slips, she feels him plant a soft kiss on her hairline, and she knows she wants to feel it again. 

#keep reading #chris alonso #Jim Street #Chris Alonso/Jim Street #Stris #S.W.A.T #S.W.A.T cbs #S.W.A.T fic #my writing #ooh first fic in a new fandom lmao #and first fic in like years also basically #comments/reviews appreciated! #esp tonally/characterization #also does anyone read the or do we all use ao3 #genuine question bc i always just go to ao3 so

[living-my-future-past-life]

The Right Thing

Sometimes, the right thing hurts. I can't say all the right choices will hurt, but this one does. It wasn't the right thing when I pretended to say goodbye to someone I love for the sake of their safety, but it sure did hurt, and it was the right thing for them... Just not for me.

But this... nearly a year ago I moved out under the premise I could start a life in a house with my ex partner. The house is lovely, it would've made a good home, if, for me, it wasn't riddled with pain.

I signed the lease, and my ex was meant to move with me eventually... But, that never happened, and the house became the site of many pains for me. I moved and built all the furniture here on my own, he never helped, this house became a place where I did everything alone when I shouldn't have had to.

Later it became the location where I had a concussion from a panic attack that my ex caused. It became the location where I cried all the time. It was the location where I lost my job, where I was assaulted by a neighbour, where I lost a client and a friend. It was the site where I was sexually harrassed by 2 maintenance workers.

Today, I finally decided that a month from now, I will not live here. That I will be gone from this place. And yet, I cry. The spiders in the kitchen, a small happiness because they end up in odd places and it makes me laugh. The zoomies my cat gets across the living room and up the stairs because she has the freedom, that step in the bathroom that is never quite right...

All the weird, spooky stuff that happened that inspired my writing concepts and helped me grow as a person, the solitude that finally gave me a chance to heal and grow.

But, those little things I love, are not big enough in comparison to how haunted this house is by those who abused and assaulted me, to how the heating never seems to work properly in the winter, how there are so many faults and things never fully working. A house full of memories, and a place that helped me grow. A place I spent a year of my life, and I did need this, I needed this house for this year. But, now I have to be ready to say goodbye to it. It is sad, I will mourn it, but I will remember it. Every lesson and every weird moment I spent here.

This year was a year of growth, learning, and healing, and I needed this broken, weird, unstable house because when I found it, I was too. But I'm not anymore, and I have outgrown it... I am moving onto bigger and better things.

I'll spend New Years Eve packing up things and mourning all this, what was... And mourning 2023... Because this year has been a year I have hated with every fibre of my being. But, it's also been the year of the most impact for me, I grew so much in 2023, learned so much about myself, and I became myself.

I'll say goodbye to this house as I say goodbye to 2023. I'm a little scared of what comes next, but I am also a little excited too. I hope it's better, and, I hope whoever moves in here next, will find this house to be as healing and changing as me.

#growth #love #personal growth #spiritual growth #spiritual journey #spiritual healing #mental health #2023 #moving #moving on #changes #mourning #life

[bowsie22]

Whumptober Day 18

Of course it was his uncle's fault, of course it was.

It had been a quiet day in the Wushanju. Honestly, that should have been Wu Xie’s first warning. Nothing ever stayed quiet or calm in his life. Especially with his family. His Sanshu seemed determined to mess up his life in multiple ways. So, it really was no surprise that what happened was the older man's fault.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was stock day, so the shop was closed, and the Iron Triangle were all in different parts of the building. Xiaoge was looking over their garden and outdoor items, Pangzi was in their general stock room and Wu Xie was busy restocking the main shop. Their plan was to work for three hours and then break for lunch, before working into the evening. Wushanju had a lot of stock, this was always one of the worst times of the year. So involved in his work, Wu Xie didn’t notice the knocks on the main gates at first. He noticed when the knocks turned to bangs, startling him enough he dropped the clipboard in his hands.

He made his way to the door, muttering under his breath. There were clear signs stating the shop was closed, who the hell was making this much noise. Wu Xie swung the gate open, freezing at the sight of the men in front of him. The man in front was clearly their leader, three men lined up behind him. “Wu Xie, yes? Nephew of Wu Sanxing? I think we need to talk.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His goddamn uncle, once again screwing everything up. Wu Xie was on his knees in front of the leader, two men holding him on his knees while the third loomed behind the smaller leader. He’d already been beaten, his lip split, one of his eyes bruised. “All we need is your uncle. Tell us where he is, and we leave you and the shop alone.”

Wu Xie wasn’t able to focus, he really hoped he didn’t have another concussion. He blinked, eyes focusing on a photo of his second uncle and a childhood friend. “You know my uncle has no friends? I mean he has Panzi. And contacts in the business. And he obviously has a lot of enemies. But there’s no one he can go out to dinner with or see a movie with. And that’s sad. And don’t get me wrong, he’s a piece of shit, even I’m aware of that, but he should still have friends. Everyone should friends. I have friends, I have a lot of friends who love me and who I love and even Sanshu deserves someone who loves him. Not because he’s family or he saved their lives, but because they love him for him. But then again, piece of shit, so who’d love him? He’s really –“

Wu Xie is cut off by a punch, only staying up because of the grip of the two. He shook his head, looking up at the leader. “Sorry, I tend to deflect when I’m threatened. It also buys time for those friends I mentioned. You should look behind you.”

God, Wu Xie wished he could look that scary with just an eyebrow raise. He wondered if it was a Zhang thing? Trusting his friends to look after himself, he allowed himself to fall unconscious. He had to get his uncle some friends, it was nice to have friends.

#whumptober2023 #day 18 #“I tend do deflect when I'm being threatened” #wu xie #dmbj

[chicagofanfictionfan]

Vivo Per Te (I live for you) Part 7

Flash hung up the phone and took a deep breath. Turning to face everyone, he held up his hand. “Yes that was Homer. The chopper was hit by a missile and crashed roughly 70 miles south of Khartoum. Tony, Homer, the SEAL Commander, and one SEAL Lieutenant survived. Bones and a SEAL Lieutenant did not.”

“They had been walking to get there, finally arrived, and this was the first chance he had to make contact. The Consulate brought him a Sat phone and it is in his hands now. They had no communications earlier. Now for Tony, he is in surgery right now. Homer said that for sure he has a broken arm, at least two broken ribs, a punctured lung and a concussion and he has yet to really wake up. He has seen slivers of green twice. He had to slice him open and put a tube in for his punctured lung and it’s slightly infected. He’s running a slight fever.”

“As of yet the Doctors have not come out to speak with him.” Looking at Dante, he smiled. “Homer said to make sure to tell you that when Tony started to get lost in his dreams and got agitated, that he took the ring off his dog tags and put it on his finger and twirled it around so that he would feel it. And as soon as he felt it, he calmed down.”

“And not to panic about the Commander knowing. Something about him having saved his ass before, I think it was the one where Tony stole the enemy jet and blew up the insurgents’ camp with their own missiles. Anyway, the man has a lot respect and trust in Tony and will take his secrets to his grave. Apparently even unconscious your Tonio is still a charmer.”

Dante gave a small smile before he looked over at Ducky. “He hasn’t regained consciousness Ducky. That can’t be good.”

“Don’t borrow trouble young man. Jonathan said that he saw green slivers twice, which means he hears and can understand the commands. Anthony’s body may well be taking care of him, by shutting down a bit. The infection under those conditions is to be expected and can be dealt with along with the broken bones. He also said there was only a slight fever and that is a good sign that there is no internal bleeding. For the rest we will just have to wait until we hear more. He is where he needs to be for his injuries.”

Dante stood and started pacing. “I should be there. He needs me.”

Gibbs stood in his path. “Won’t argue that Dante, and he has you. As long as it’s not serious, we can fly him out of there. We have a plane, a doctor, and a room full of pilots. You wearing yourself out by pacing a hole in the floor or making yourself sick is not going to help him.”

Dante looked at Gibbs. “Way easier said than done.”

Gibbs nodded. “It always is when you love someone. Tell these people how Bones got his name.”

Abby snickered.

Tim threw out a guess. “He liked Star Trek?”

Dante laughed. “Nope. ‘ Bones’ aka William B. Boyd. By the way, there is no record of what the ‘B’ stands for anywhere. We have concluded that his middle name is ‘B’. He was a shy young man raised in a strangely religious home. They do some sort of snake thing. Anyways he came to us all sweet and pure, he’d never drank, cussed, dated, or probably even touched himself. Sorry ladies but it’s true.”

“We quickly started teaching him about the finer points in life. Booze and women. He was never quite able to master either one. He would stammer and blush with every woman, but that did often work in his favor. As for drinking, give the man two beers and he was staggering. One night we decided we needed to have a party and bought everything we needed and invited every girl we knew and asked them to bring friends.”

“We always look out for each other so when he went missing, we were determined to locate him. No car so he had to be in the complex. Yes, in fact we did find him. Sitting on the ground with a little tiny dog growling at him. We couldn’t figure out why the dog was growling. The man was sitting down and not doing anything that is until we looked in his hand. He had the damn dog’s dish and was eating his Milk Bones.”

Everyone in the room started laughing. “He was a great friend, a great brother and a fine soldier. When the rest come home we’ll drink to his life.” Dante saluted.

Abby looked at him. “Who will call his parents?”

Flash sighed. “No one. When he wanted to join, they cut him loose. It didn’t meet with their religious ideals. We’re his family.”

“Well it’s a fine family to be a part of.” Tim saluted Dante.

Dante looked around at each and every one of them. “Yes. It is.”

#Anthony DiNozzo #Ziva David #Abby Sciuto #Ducky Mallard #Jethro Gibbs #Jimmy Palmer #Leon Vance #Timothy McGee #Original Characters

[posallys]

today has been a whole ass rollercoaster i want to scream and sleep

#i can't #the amount of people who have pissed me off in the last 4 hours is ridiculous #i can't tell if i just have a migraine from stupid people and also wiplash or if it's a concussion from practice #the problem with that is my migraines make me dizzy and i get ringing in my ears and spots in my vision #but those are also concussion signs so i love that for me #anyway #taylor rants

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[pookacangetit]

Community!Yuu [Halloween Edition: Pumpkin Chaos]

There are some differences when it comes to Yuu and Twisted's culture of celebrating Halloween. But in the end what remains the same is the fact the prefect probably should visit a therapist and stop causing chaos everywhere they go.

☆HAPPY HALLOWEEN☆

---------------------------

Unlike most of the students' aiming for the top tier costumes and makeup effects. Yuu will gladly wear their student uniform, hold a pair of scissors and go "I'm a stressed, overworked and underpaid student ready to commit murder"

There's a line of truth within that sentence which Trein hopes was the former while Crewel hopes it was the latter

They don't have time to dress up and definitely do not have the money to buy stuff

So improvise!

Dead gardener killed by an overzealous master by rolling around the dirt in their shirt and overalls? Punched paper with three circles glued to their shirt? Anything and everything that is cheap

---------------------------

Ace: hey prefect, what's with the get-up?

Yuu: hm? I'm dressed as an Asian man with a bald cap on top of a blond wig :3

Ace: … why

Yuu: an inside joke my old laws' professor had, he mentioned something about being held hostage too...

---------------------------

Yuu: cool vampire costume, Epel!

Epel: thanks!! Cool... what the fuck are you

Yuu: I'm Evil Yuu! >:D

Epel: ... you just have a paper moustache taped to your face

Yuu: moustaches are evil!!

---------------------------

Deuce: you brought your own food? Didn't the teachers mentioned that they'll be providing food from the cafetaria for everyone?

Yuu: can you gurantee that the food here wasn't drugged to the gills with radiation just to get every student high beyond imagination or cause a zombie virus breakout?

Deuce: ... wuh-

Yuu: that's what I thought

---------------------------

Unlike being unprepared like last time when a bunch of people broke into their home, Yuu has done their homework and booby-trapped the entire dorm

The Home Alone series of traps that incapacitate people rather than those You're Next or Saw traps though

---------------------------

Yuu: to ensure my home isn't invaded again I glued pumpkins to every inch of the ceiling in Ramshackle with temporary glue

Yuu: I even had a post outside that read: Beware of Falling Vegetables!

Crowley: … you sent three students, on separate occasions, to the hospital for concussions

Yuu: it's their fault for not paying attention to the sign

Crowley: you glued pumpkins to your ceiling

Yuu: well they didn't read the bulletin board on my yard that shouts FALLING VEGETABLES

Yuu: Besides, a pumpkin to the head won't do that much damage, back in Greendale people had dimes up their ass and no one got infected by anything

Yuu: well, except that failed STDs party...

Crowley:

Crowley: are you sure you went to college and not a mental ward?

---------------------------

Ignihyde student: wait, where are you going?

Savanaclaw student: the Ramshackle prefect's dorm, I need to borrow the ghosts for a bit

Ignihyde student: are you insane?!

Savanaclaw student: what're you scared of? It's the Ramshackle prefect, the magicless student

Ignihyde student: the magicless student who managed to send five students to the hospital with a duckie pond, a duckie. pond.

Savanaclaw student:

Ignihyde student: also Leona-senpai gave them some barbed wires prior to today-

Savanclaw student: let's leave the Ramshackle prefect alone shall we? :)

*meanwhile*

Pomefiore student: WHY IS THE PREFECT'S FLOOR COVERED WITH MARBLES

Diasomnia student: I DON'T KNOW, HELP ME WITH THESE CREEPY DOLL HEADS- WHY ARE THEY MOVING HELP AAAAAHHHHHH-

Yuu: MUAHAHAHAHA >:3

---------------------------

Crowley didn't fully realised what asking (read: withholding the prefect's allowance and guilt-tripping them until they agree) the prefect to plan the school's Halloween party would entail.

If he did, he wouldn't have even thought of the prefect as a candidate for the event planner in the first place.

To put it simply, it was a disaster.

"I absolutely love this party!" Ambrose, who should not even be here mind you, jovially cheered as he patted Crowley on the back, wearing a star-patterned robe and cone hat the prefect had supplied.

Neige, the second person who should not be here because Vil had gone mad the minute he saw him until he nearly died laughing and choking in horror at what the boy was wearing, nodded as he drank a cup of tomato juice.

Crowley didn't dare lay his eyes on the absolute abomination the boy was wearing.

A hot pink shirt reading Fergalicious, a pair of leather pants held by chains, green boots and an orange cowboy's hat. All supplied by the prefect who, thankfully, only choosed the costumes of the guests.

At least Neige had been absolutely over the moon when he received the outfit. Crowley counted that as a miniscule win but- no, absolutely no.

The prefect did pretty well though, with the design of the party and the food choices. But the reason, other than the fashion wreck of what Yuu considers a Halloween costume, why Crowley concluded the party was a disaster was the ugly, soul-destroying, mantra the prefect was playing in place of music.

"According to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly-"

Whatever the prefect was playing on loop with their monotone voice that sounded like something that shouldn't exist but it did, was torture and Crowley is definitely docking their pay.

"I wonder if they would give me the script of whatever they're monolouging." Ambrose mused.

"Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow!-"

I am a respectful gentleman. I will not smash my head on the nearest wall just for an excuse to escape. Crowley repeated in his mind.

#twst #twst dialogue #twst scenarios #community yuu #twst halloween month 2021 #twst imagines

[emjiroki]

Chapter Four: Heartbeat

Warnings: mentions of scars and fluff 

A/N: This is honestly my favorite chapter so far! Shoto is one of best muses and I love him! Hope everyone Enjoys 💕

“Is there anything you’re thinking about getting while you're there? I haven’t kept up with what Manga has been coming out lately,” Shoto asked as he and Hanta walked up to the crosswalk, deciding it better to park a bit away due to midday traffic flowing past in the street. 

“I’ve gotta get something for Eijiro for his birthday coming up,” Hanta said, thinking for a moment as they walked, “honestly I’m just gonna browse and see what catches my eye.” Shoto nodded in agreement, he didn’t know if he would actually get anything at all, but he was happy to be out of his apartment. Thankful to have a distraction for a little while, something other than searching online for local news from the weekend before to see if any of them had posted your statement to the police, to see if any of them had caught your name. Not only did they not have you anywhere, barely anyone reported on it at all, despite him being injured and put in the hospital. It felt like a losing battle, the blank spots in his memory due to the concussion making it harder and harder to remember your face. He could remember the shock sparkling in your eyes, those beautiful eyes that took his breath away. With no other track record to go off of and with you not being involved with any Hero Agency, trying to find you was more difficult than he thought. No name meant a needle in a haystack. Shoto could only hope he would know when he saw you again, that all the memories would clear and you wouldn’t be a daydream anymore. 

“Today’s our lucky day! Looks like there’s barely anyone here,” Sero said as he pushed the door open, a soft bell chiming through the open space.

‘Perfect’ Shoto thought to himself as he took in a deep breath. Crowds never were his thing, and being a pro hero hasn’t made that any better.  He always loved the smell of bookstores, it reminded him of when his sister would read to him as a kid, the homey scent of ink and paper making his chest warm. No one greeted them on the way in and he figured whoever was working was probably helping someone or stocking books. Even better.

“I’m gonna go look at the figurines, if you find any sales on box sets come get me,” Sero said, turning off to the back of the store towards the display cases. 

Shoto made an affirming sound as he moved off towards the bookshelves, looking for something but also nothing in particular. He just happened to stop in the fantasy section for a moment, a sign pointing out sales catching his attention along with the knights and grotesque creature on the cover. He vaguely remembered Izuku suggesting it at one point, saying that it was a good series with amazing art, which might be something new to try.  Life has a way of working unexpectedly, lining things up in a certain way that seems so ironic that he almost laughed. 

“Need help finding anything?”. 

It felt like all the air had been sucked from the room when he heard your voice. How was he supposed to move his feet again? To turn and lock eyes with you, to feel his heartbeat out of his fingertips. How was he supposed to breathe again? His chest grew tight with the absence of air to speak. He felt like he was on autopilot, brain functioning at the lowest capacity so his heart could have free reign. But his heart had no idea what it was doing either. 

“I- Just- uh,” Shoto put the manga back on the shelf trying to gain his composure, “Just- browsing?” God, he was glad Sero was off somewhere else and not here to see the embarrassing blush on his skin or hear the inflection in his cracking tone. He felt like he was in high school again, getting the second-hand embarrassment from being Izuku’s wingman, except this time it was him in the hot seat. 

“Well that’s a really good series, you should give it a try if you’re looking for Fantasy. It’s one of our best sellers,” You said with a smile, “If you need anything just let me know.” Oh no, you were turning to walk away, probably to get back to your job by the look of your nametag. Shoto’s hand went out to grab yours, unconsciously just like before, like there was a string pulling on every fiber of his being to follow you. 

“Wait!”. His cool hand was wrapping around your wrist to stop you. Shoto immediately dropped his hand when you jolted from the cold, a flush immediately burning his skin so hot that he had to check and make sure his quirk hadn’t ignited. 

“I’m sorry,” He said quickly pulling his hand back to his side, “But I uh-”. ‘Just say thank you, idiot! You’ve practiced this a million times. Say thank you for saving me and ask her out’ his brain was shouting. 

“I actually do need some help, I have no clue what I want,” He admitted, kicking himself internally for being a coward. He’s been a pro hero for four years, has gone toe to toe with some of the most vicious villains, but a pretty girl has him shaking and tongue-tied like a little kid. 

“Sure I can help you with that, any genre you’re looking for?” You asked, turning and gesturing for him to follow you. 

“Well, sci-fi has been a go-to for a long time,” Shoto said as you stopped at one of the middle kiosks.

“Really? Seemed more like a romance guy to me,” you said with a shrug. His stomach plummeted. How had he known that blunder would be the thing you remembered the most about him, of course. He was about to apologize, had the words ready when he noticed you attempting to hold back a grin. You were teasing him. 

“I don’t read them often, funny enough. mostly sci-fi and fantasy. ” He said, aware that his face was burning and probably as red as the left half of his hair, only deepening the hue of his scar. He fought childhood instinct to cover it out of embarrassment, hand twitching then relaxing back to his side. 

“We’ll look at sci-fi first then circle back to where we were,” You said, seemingly picking up on his abrupt discomfort and changing the subject. He breathed a sigh of relief. Now he knows that you know, that you remember him, that you’re real and not a part of some vivid nightmare he would gladly live over and over again just to see your face and feel your fingers drumming against his leg.

He felt like he was floating as he listened intently to you as you gave him suggestions on different series and sets of manga he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of or what they were about, only the fact that you were here in front of him and talking so passionately about everything around you was important to him at that moment. Shoto didn’t know how long he followed you around for, a soft smile on his face and quiet nods and hums to show he was listening even if his brain was swimming in the clouds, all he knew was the singular book he had started off with has now turned into a stack balanced in his arms. He grabbed everything you had talked about, practically anything you had touched, just shadowing you and grabbing books, wiping a whole series off the shelves at one point because you said it was one of your favorites in the horror genre, he didn’t even really like horror manga that much. But he didn’t care. Couldn’t care as you fixed him with that wide-eyed look when you turned around at one point, the stack had been up to his chest, and laughed. Now you two were at the counter, Shoto carefully balancing the books so you could scan them. 

“Are you sure about this? You know the place isn’t going to disappear,” You said with an incredulous laugh, sliding the first couple of books across the scanner. 

‘I don’t know that. This seems too good to be true’  He thought to himself. 

“Well I live across town and I’ve got some time off work because- uh,” He paused, why did he pause?

“Because you busted through my windshield?” You asked casually, grabbing a large reusable bag to start loading the books in as you scanned. 

“Yeah that, I’m really sorry. They should have had that street secured,” Shoto said, hand going to the stitches behind his ear as if feeling them would ease the nervousness still shaking his hands. 

“It’s not your fault, I’m just glad to see you,”. It seems you both realized what you said at the same time because your face and neck flushed when you made eye contact, mouth slightly open as if you were trying to pull the words back in against your tongue. 

“See you safe I mean- not like covered in blood anymore and- but I guess I am glad to see you- uh this is weird ignore me” You stammered, nearly dropping the book you were scanning. 

“I’m the weird one. I told you I loved you,” Shoto said with a soft smile, anxiousness easing just slightly when he saw how flustered you had become. He had never understood the effect he had on people, even when everyone around him told him he was attractive and could get anyone he wanted, he just didn’t believe it. Didn’t believe someone would ever get butterflies because of him, would ever blush because of him. He was just Shoto and that had always been enough.

“Well you hit your head pretty hard, I’m not gonna hold it against you” You laughed, refusing to meet his eyes out of embarrassment. 

‘Look at me’ He pleaded in his mind, heart thrumming like a harp. As if hearing his plea, your eyes flicked back up to his, stealing his breath again. Shoto didn’t think he would ever tire of that feeling. 

“Sho! Couldn’t find you man where did you run off to?” Sero said coming up behind him at the counter with a box and three manga in hand. He looked over Shoto’s shoulder to see what was on the counter. “Geez, I thought you said you wouldn’t get anything?”. 

“I told him we wouldn’t disappear,” You said, stacking the last book into the bag. Shoto shrugged his shoulders.

“You know I’m not going back to work for another week Hanta, don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

“Because you never buy more than three manga. Ever. Says it throws you off and you need time to get through everything,” Sero said with a grin looking over to you, “guess this pretty girl made a big difference in your spending habits huh?”. Shoto felt his face burning again as pulled his wallet from his pocket, not bothering and really not wanting to know the total, and handed you his card. Both of you ignored Sero’s comment, you stuffing the receipt down into the bag and Shoto doing everything he could not run from the store. When Sero was rung up and bag in hand, Shoto’s heart plummeted. He had to go now, had no other reason to stay around and it felt like his stomach was twisting. 

“I’ll meet you at the car okay?” He said to Sero as he was turning to the door. The black-haired Hero just gave him a weird look, about to question him when he looked over to you behind the counter then back to Shoto.

“OH okay right,” He grinned, “I’ll see you in the car Lover Boy”. Shoto should kick him, make an ice path across the street and send Sero sliding, but he escaped out of the door first, the little bell chiming obnoxiously behind him. 

“I just wanted to say Thank you again. For saving me and everything,” He said softly, watching as you waved his appreciation away.

“Please don’t thank me. Just because I’m not a pro hero doesn’t mean I can’t help others when they need it, just glad you’re not dead,” You said with a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. 

“Yeah I guess I am too,” Shoto said with a nervous chuckle, “so-”. He was about to ask you for your number to take you out, show you how happy he was to find you again, and show you that he wasn’t kidding when he said he loved you. But something made him stop. Maybe it was the soft shift in your gaze, maybe it was the way you gripped the counter with white knuckles as he paused but the words died on his tongue. 

“So I’ll see you later,” Shoto corrected himself, watching as you released a held breath. 

“Right,” you said with a soft smile, voice quiet. “Be safe out there.”

“Yeah, you too,” He said, trying not to show the disappointment in his tone as he hefted the bag of books up from the counter. He didn’t know what made him stop from letting the words escape, why he swallowed them like bad medicine and turned to leave, hand fisted deep into his jacket pocket and heavy bag hanging from his left shoulder. 

“Bye Shoto,” You said quickly as his hand was on the door. Your eyes were bright when he looked up at you, just as beautiful as the first night he met you and he was suddenly grateful for the itchy stitches and aching ribs. 

“Bye Y/N,” your name fell so perfectly from his tongue “see you soon,” He said, shoulders holding a little straighter with the confidence in his tone. Shoto would see you again. And if fate was merciful, he would never have to say goodbye. 

You slumped down behind the counter once he was out of sight, pressing your hands to your face and nearly screaming. How did this keep happening? How did you keep running into him? Why did it feel like your entire body was charged with electricity whenever he had held your wrist in his hand. You hadn't wanted to monopolize his time but the more suggestions you gave the more interested he became, asking questions periodically and following right behind you as you guided him through the shelves. Why did it make your heart ache when he turned the scarred side of his pretty face away from you anytime you tried to look right at him, as if ashamed or nervous. ‘Look at me’ you thought when he tried to look away, trying to hold back every instinct that screamed to lay a hand against his cheek and face him towards you. You had felt almost guilty when you had seen the stack he had collected, stifling a laugh at the sheepish look on his face as his cheeks dusted pink. But now he was gone and it felt odd. Almost empty. Which was such a strange feeling having only barely known him for very long at all. 

With it now being early evening the store had grown quiet, indicating that it was almost closing time. You only had a few more boxes of restocks to finish so you tucked them away in the back corner to wait until tomorrow, still needing to wipe down the front counter and lock up the back figurines, when you thought back to earlier, how Shoto had paused before turning to leave. When he had looked as if he was about to ask you something. You shook your head, cheeks growing warm from embarrassment at yourself and the thought. There was no way.

#todoroki shoto #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #pro hero shoto #bnha shoto todoroki #bnha #my hero academia #pro hero sero #Sero Hanta #em writes ✍ #chapter series #Dreams You Find ❤🤍