#this is in my drafts yeah ill share | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luvrsbian · 1 year

Text

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)

MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO

Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year.

He really liked his job.

Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited. 

But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young. 

Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting.

He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to.

There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot. 

The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.)

It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters. 

Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch. 

He couldn’t wait.

Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year. 

He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around. 

He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years. 

This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied. 

Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office. 

Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him.

He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows. 

There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl.

Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh.

“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.”

The footsteps stop.

“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?”

That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice.

Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this.

“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with.

“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks.

“Where’s Virginia?”

Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy. 

“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls. 

“Why?”

You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.”

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.”

You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat.

Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again.

“Who are you?”

Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name.

He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch.

“You must be Edward, right?”

He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.”

Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop.

“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head.

“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.”

You smile. He smiles back.

Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar. 

It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it. 

You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens. 

Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed. 

The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in. 

Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese. 

Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert.

He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched.

“Have you always lived in Hawkins?”

You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him.

“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk.

“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.”

Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.)

“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace. 

“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?”

He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him.

“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’

“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse. 

He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him.

“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off.

Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age. 

Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue. 

You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls. 

Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You.

“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk.

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles.

“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.”

He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door. 

“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.”

Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left. 

“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide.

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

#ʚ by gwen ɞ #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #tcu #school janitor eddie x school nurse reader

761 notes · View notes

precious-little-scoundrel · 2 months

Text

Dear John || Tell me you didn’t

Dear John || Masters of the Air fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways, tucked up in luxury in Beverly Hills with carts of tedious fanmail burned in her back yard each day, his letter will get lost in the mix. It’s harmless. That thought -and the booze- may loosen his pen a little too much but it’s alright, it’s not like she’ll read it. Right? Right.

Circa: August 1943

Plot: Gale Cleven learns that not only did his best friend send dubious fanmail while blind drunk, he seems to have singled out with his indomitable luck the one starlet of the silver screen capable of matching his depravity

Warnings: 18+ for suggestive and crass content, it’s pretty much two boys acting like a couple of girls at a sleepover deciphering a dirty text from one’s crush

My thanks to my baby Bri for literally being the brains behind the plot and for Christi for assuring me this ain’t trash. We shall if y’all share those sentiments…

The referenced letter link 💌

“Tell me you didn’t.” Gale managed to keep his tone calm but he’d be lying if he didn’t admit his fingertips had gone a little chilly.

“I-“ Egan threw his arms out as if a better truth might form with a little more gesticulation but nothing came, “I did, Buck.” he admitted.

“You wrote it blind drunk.” Gale reminded him with urgency, as if the reminder of its ill calculated circumstances could snatch back his letter from out of Lana Tierney’s posh mailbox.

“I did!” He agreed, “-And I sent it blind drunk. And I never thought she’d read it.”

“I saw you eat it!” Cleven’s voice was growing angry, “I made you-“

“That may have been a botched first draft to Donny’s folks instead.” Egan winced.

Both of them lapsed again into silence, staring warily at the unopened and daintily addressed envelope in Egan’s hand like it might explode at any moment.

“You sonuvabitch.” Gale breathed, two frantic pink splotches appearing on his cherub cheeked face, judgment and disbelief making a whirlpool of his eyes. “Can’t leave you alone for a minute. What all did you even say?”

“I didn’t tell her about ACORN!” John vowed like a child swearing to their sibling regarding secrets kept from mother, “I mean, i called her that but I didn’t explai-“

“-John!”

“-and I said a lotta nice things too, I think, but, I also-“ Egan scrunched his eyes up as if to either better recall or maybe banish entirely all memory of his sentiments, “-I may have mentioned wanting to give her children.”

“JOHN!”

“It can’t have been that bad, she wrote back!” Egan defended with wounded hope, holding up his still sealed prize. “Buck, swear to God, I never thought she’d read it.”

Gale slumped down next to him on the bed as if the ordeal in voyeuristic stupidity had taken something out of him. “Maybe she didn’t.” he suggested grimly. “Maybe it’s from her attorney tellin’ you to never contact her again.”

He was enjoying ruining this moment a little too much, and now Egan was growing angry he had waited to open it until confiding in his friend. Not a little anxious, and not a little smug, Egan flipped the envelope over, ready to tear its flap. That’s when he saw the kiss print. “Ha!” he barked, flipping it back up and shoving it directly in front of Gale’s crossing eyes, “Do lawyers leave lip prints?” he questioned cockily and when Gale pulled far enough away to ascertain for himself, he gave a conceding nod.

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh.” John goaded but his heart beat a crazy and skittish rhythm as he slipped his finger inside the fold and tore at the slip.

Lovely, scented, gold embossed stationery came into view, it made Egan question how well he had washed his hands the paper was so white and pristine.

“Well?” Gale kept to a respectful distance of half a foot away from his friend on the bed, and being a good sort of man, he was not snooping or side eyeing private correspondence.

“Uh, yeah, right.” Bucky rallied himself and unfolded the missive fully, forcing his eyes to focus on deciphering charming, school girl cursive. “Get over here, Buck.” he griped at last as it was hopeless to make headway between his own nerves and Cleven’s hovering presence.

Gale didn’t move and Bucky didn’t expect him to so he scooted over herself, smashing him on the edge and held the letter out as they both leaned in.

“Dear John, -I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to.”

“Oh shit.” Bucky swore in realization.

“She’s funny.” Gale’s tone was ever so mild.

“Nah she’s, Buck, she’s quoting me back to me I told her -nevermind, let’s see-“

They peered back at the letter together, Cleven more invested that he’d ever admit and Bucky’s heart doing the oddest little flips at the realization that someone gave enough of a damn to write this sorta thing back to him.

“Heartfelt.” Gale murmured her choice of words for Bucky’s letter aloud with something close to relief, only to be then followed by a groan- “you did not write the word ‘knockers’ in a letter to a woman!”

“You're right, you’re right,” Egan ducked his head, repentant, he wouldn’t have been the least surprised if he got a wallop from Cleven for it, “awful of me. I admitted it even then. She admits it. Let’s move on.”

“RACK!” Cleven growled moments later in growing disbelief. “Jesus, John.”

“Oh don’t act better than all of it, you know she’s got the best melons out there-“

“-you’re the one who felt compelled to write a nice young lady and tell her as much.” Buck stabbed an accusatory finger dangerously close to Egan’s nose, “And used vulgarities while at it.”

Egan gave a defensive shrug and began his reading anew. “She said she’s fizzing…over making babies.” he whispered, “With me.” John was awed and this time Cleven had no rebuttal, just ever growing wonderment on his ever reddening face. “And she says here, look! she says you’re a bad boy for breaking us up that night! HA!”

“She’s being polite Bucky,” Gale cautioned, worried at where this surge of confidence might lead, “she didn’t admit to remembering a bit of it. They send girls to school to let fellas like you down easy.”

“Aww, now she says to give ya a kiss.” Egan cooed, saccharine and wicked, “See, she’s so nice and you’re the one who’s awful, doubting her like that. She says to give ya one if you’re the sort to take it well, are ya Buck, huh? Are you? Huh?”

“No, no! Jesus, get off me!” Cleven exerted every bit of his wiry strength to lug off the sudden onslaught of Egan’s heavy embrace as they folded together back onto the bed, John’s mouth making sickening smooching noises against Cleven’s baby smooth cheek, mustache a foreign and terrifying tickle on his jaw. “Get the hell off me, what is wrong with you?”

“I’m riled, just like her, that’s what’s wrong.” Egan replied vehemently, pulling his face away but keeping a perturbed Buck beneath his greater weight. “And maybe one day you’ll know what that feels like, Goldilocks. See, says right here: *I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists* Do you hear that?” He demanded, still holding the letter aloft as Gale looked up at him with the sort of patience people reserve for lunatics liable to murder them at the least hint of movement. “I’ve made her horny.” he spelled it out and Gale’s face somehow flushed an even deeper shade of scarlet. “She wants to know what acorn means.”

“Don’t you ever tell her.” Gale warned.

“Why not?”

“It’s not even a good acronym, it’s misspelled and missing a whole word.”

“She wants it to be ‘salacious’ -says so herself.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.” Bucky flipped the letter over for Gale to see and judging by the panic in his eyes he caught more lines than that one alone.

“Jesus.” he repeated, it was starting to sound like a genuine beg for divine intervention. “Get off me.”

That itching physical impulse to roughhouse remained but Egan obligingly rolled to the side, aware Buck didn’t have what would cure his own riled self. “She says she enclosed something for the morale, said to keep it safe. But there’s not anything else. You see anything else?”

“I don’t.” Buck sounded worn down but he made an effort to look around amongst the sheets.

“Julia Jean.” Egan pondered, “Says that’s her real name.”

“Yeah, well, maybe now you can stop calling her acorn every damn time she comes on screen.”

“Don’t count on it.” Egan grinned back.

“Maybe it’s still in the envelope.” Gale suggested, tentatively picking up the air mail slip and handing it to Bucky.

Egan sat up and shook the paper between them, wondering if it was really something worth hiding from the censors like some OSS spy shit. A couple of shakes and sure enough, some slippery little card shaped thing fluttered out of a crease and wafted to the ground, settling between Buck’s boots. John’s stoic young friend bent over and retrieved it, but not without his entire spine stiffening like he’d been hit as soon as he’d caught it.

“Jesus.” it was more of a wheeze this time. Gale’s slow hand raised it and passed it over.

There wasn’t anything to say, not when confronted with such perfection. Not even a shielding arm to cheat him of the whole display, nothin’ at all but a carefully cropped photograph of the ripest pair of-

“Goddamn.” John’s tongue finally materialized a sentiment and he heard Gale’s appreciative sharp intake of breath beside him as if he’d forgotten to breathe here lately. “They’re wonderful.”

“Yeah.” Gale’s own throat sounded dry as dust, “W-we should probably stop starin’.”

“Whadda ya think she sent ‘em for?” John laughed, a rough, victorious laugh, never once dragging his admiring eyes away from them or ceasing to thumb over the shiny print. He could almost feel her warm, giving flesh under the pad of his finger, could almost imagine the pebble of a rosy nipple responding to his swipes.

“Yeah, they’re alright-“

“Alright? Alright!?” Egan repeated, incensed for his beloved’s reputation, “THESE ARE THE BEST TITS IN THE NATION!”

Gale actually looked mildly chastened, especially as his eyes strayed guiltily back to the photograph like twin marbles gravitating to the corner of a box when tipped.

“I know you haven’t seen many, Buck,” Egan goaded him further, “but take it from me -they don’t get better than this. And you better enjoy this look, it’s your last, she told me to keep them safe. So see this? These? This pair? S’why we fight, Buck.”

“Don’t be crass, John,” Gale stood up abruptly, less angry at his friend than at himself for his momentary lapse of discipline, “we fight for the people we love.”

“Course we do,” John grinned, “but I also happen to love these, told her so myself.”

“You didn’t-“

“I did.” Bucky was pretty chuffed, bouncing on the edge of the bed like he had her seated in his lap right now, “Everybody’s got to have a goal, Buck, you wanna marry Marj and I wanna aggressively come on ripe knock-“

“-A.C.O.R.N. yeah, yeah.”

“Acorn.” Bucky grinned in agreement.

“You gonna admit to her you didn’t know knockers was spelled with a k?”

“I did, too! Just couldn’t make it work.”

“Still doesn't work.” Buck informed, but his smile was returning, he’d not been this close with Bucky for this long not to learn to roll with the differences and appreciate that what made his best friend tick was a very different sort of morale than his own. “I’m happy for ya, John.” he conceded, as he turned to leave, “But when you write her back -and you gotta, she’s been too kind -promise me you’ll be a gentleman about it. Apologize, like the man I know you are. Drink got the better of you, just, explain it that way.”

“Uhuh.” John gave him a sober nod, still a little dazed this wasn’t some fever dream. “Kinda already did. In the one I sent.”

“She wasn’t deterred.” Gale mused, “Either you were shit at it or she’s-“

“Zesty.” Egan deduced, sucking his teeth with a manic gleam in his eye.

“Yeah, as an orange peel.” Gale snarked and walked away, past the rows of empty beds and outside into the rain, “I’ll leave you to it.”

Bucky fell back against his mattress, sudden peace and aloneness giving him a chance to soak it in a second time, carefully reading over it all again, savoring each quip, each earnest prayer and naughty subtext. Which naturally led him back to admiring her little picture, groaning in unrestrained appreciation for her assets. She’d hinted about him taking it to his bunk -well wasn’t he fast to obey! Something possessed him to flip it over and there in the corner of the photograph, written in tiny little script, were doodles of music notes along with the ever so familiar lyrics:

“Beat me daddy, eight to the bar.”

John threw back his head and let out a roar of appreciation for finding a mirrored soul. “Oh Julie Jean, honey baby, don’t you worry, I’ll beat out somethin’ for ya, that’s for sure.”

💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌💌

Thank y’all for reading, hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s life blood, please scream at me, I thrive off it. 💋

Taglist (Lemme know in a comment below if you’d like to be added or subtracted for MOTA fics)

@stylespresleyhearted

@ab4eva

@earth-to-lottie

@suraemoon

@blurredcolour

@steph-speaks

@crazymadpassionatelove

@rubyfruitjungle

@taestrwbrry

@storysimp

@javden

@sexualparkour

@jointherebellion215

@sunny747

@ask-you-what-sir

@xxanaduwrites

@pretty4u

@yorkshirekiwi

@waitedforlove743

#mota fanfic #masters of the air #john egan x oc #dear John #john egan #bucky egan #bucky egan x oc #callum turner

144 notes · View notes

felixsramen · 9 months

Note

can you do poly OT8 skz reacting to you getting pregnant please🥺😭

I hope you enjoy this. I got really carried away writing this. I kinda connected this to my Yours Truly series so I hope you don't mind. This has been sitting in my drafts for way too long though. I've just decided to post it after finishing it. There might be a few mistakes so sorry about that.

You had waken up this morning on your huge shared bed completely overwhelmed with nausea and quickly crawled over your boyfriends practically running to the bathroom. You quickly dropped to your knees and threw up into the toilet. You were currently cursing Hyunjin mentally for asking you to get takeout from that restaurant. You probably had food poisoning now.

You feel a hand go to your hair holding it and another hand going to your back. Clearly from 2 different people.

"Damn it. I told Hyunjin we shouldn't have gotten takeout from there." You hear Changbin say.

You once again leaned over the toilet throwing up with your eyes closed. "I'm going to kill him when he gets up." Seungmin says threatening his boyfriend.

After a couple minutes at this point you're not throwing up anything else. Instead dry heaving into the toilet. "Is she okay?" You hear Hyunjin say worried.

"She probably has food poisoning because of the takeout from last night." Changbin says as you start finally feeling like you weren't going to throw up your guts.

You sit back on your legs and sigh wiping your face. "I should kill you." Seungmin says to his boyfriend who looks on worried.

"Lets get you laying back down okay?" Changbin says and you nod tired now that you had thrown up what felt like your entire guts.

Seungmin and Changbin help you back into the bed where the rest of your concerned boyfriends wait. "You okay love?" Jisung asks you.

"Just a little nauseous. Probably from dinner." You tell him and he nods yet he's still worried. Felix comes in with a water bottle.

"You need liquids. From what I know you've thrown up everything you ate last night and you need fluids." Felix says handing you the bottle and you take it drinking at least half before the boys let you put it down.

"You're going to be alright." I.N. says rubbing your back.

"I feel bad that we can't stay." Chan says sighing. Yet you just shrug.

"Don't. You guys have work." You tell him and he sighs again.

"That doesn't make me feel any better." Chan says and you sigh. "I promise it's okay love." You say and he gives you a sympathetic look.

You grab his hand intertwining it. "Is Maria off work today?" Minho asks you and you nod.

"She should be." You tell him and he nods.

"Since we can't take care of you today we'll call your friend Maria and ask if she will. Okay?" Minho tells you.

"Okay." You say giving him a weak nod. He grabs your phone calling Maria. He leaves the room as the boys tuck you under the blanket.

"Hello?" Answers a male voice instead of Maria. "Hey. Can I speak to Maria?" Minho asks.

"Sure. Who is this though?" The voice asks.

"Minho." He says simply.

"MARIA!" The voice yells out though it sounds muffled.

"Which of the 8 are you?" Minho asks him back.

"Seonghwa. Is there a special reason why you're calling from Y/Ns phone?" He asks him which sounds like a genuine question with no ill intent.

Minho sighs. "Is Maria off work today? Its kind of urgent. I need a favor that deals with Y/N." He asks him.

"Yeah she is." He says and another yell of Maria comes out.

Minho hears voices in the background. "Get off me!" Minho hears Maria say while laughing.

"No!" The voice says back.

"I need to get to Seonghwa Woo!" She says as it sounds like a struggle is happening.

"Help me Yunho!" She yells. He hears laughter in the background.

"Minhos calling from Y/Ns number." Seonghwa says to Maria.

Minho hears more struggling. The phone is handed off. "Hello?" Maria says. He hears muffled laughter. "Get off me Wooyoung! San you too!" He hears her say and a reply of no comes.

"Hey we got takeout from this restaurant Hyunjin wanted to try and Y/N woke up throwing up and she's nauseous." Minho says sighing.

"Is she okay?" Maria says concerned.

"Yeah but we have to work and its really important or we'd stay here with her. We don't want to leave her alone and I feel bad for asking because it's your day off but could you come over and watch her just until we get home. We're going to try and get them to send us home around noon." Minho says.

"Don't feel bad about it. I don't mind at all, she's my friend." Maria says concern still in her voice.

"Thank you. If there's anyway we can pay you back let us know." Minho says sighing out relieved.

"Give me 30 minutes to get changed and get there. I don't need you to pay me back, that's my friend." Maria says sighing.

"Thank you." Minho says. Suddenly there's a scream from Maria followed by laughter.

"Stop San and Woo! I have to go see Y/N she's sick" Maria says scolding her boyfriends.

"Is she okay?" Wooyoung says to Maria.

"She's okay but the boys have important work today so they can't take of her until later so I'm going over there." She tells him.

"Fine but you owe us later!" Minho hears what sounds like San say.

"Yeah. Okay." She says.

"I'll be there. Bye." She says and the phone hangs up.

Minho makes his way back to the room. "She's coming over." Minho says to his boyfriends.

"Good. I didn't want to leave her alone." Chan says sighing looking at you as you had fallen back to sleep.

"Lets get ready. She'll be here about the time we need to leave." Minho says and the boys nod getting up from surrounding you even though they don't want to leave your side.

They all get to doing what they need but check on you. Though after changing I.N. and Jisung come up to you and climb into bed with you.

They lay there watching your breathing and to see if you'd need help getting back to the bathroom in case another wave of nausea wakes you up. They hear the faint knock of a door but don't move knowing that one of their boyfriends would open the door.

Hyunjin is the one who opens the door. "Call us when you get done." Hongjoong yells to Maria.

"I will." Maria yells back to him as he backs out of the driveway.

The back windows roll down. "I LOVE YOU!" Shouts Wooyoung sticking his head out the car.

"Get back in the car now!" Jongho says pulling his boyfriend back into the car as the window rolls up.

Maria laughs and turns realizing the door is open now.

"Oh sorry about that." But then she realizes it's Hyunjin.

"Nevermind I take it back. You were the one who has my friend throwing up because she has food poisoning." Maria says and Hyunjin sighs and knows that was deserved. He steps out of the way so Maria can come inside.

"Thank you for coming Maria. Y/Ns currently laying down in the room." Chan says taking her to the boys and your room.

He opens the door revealing you squished in-between 2 of your boyfriends. They look at Maria and sit up.

Chan goes up to you gently shaking you awake. "Baby?" Chan says and you hum.

"Hey love we got to leave. Maria's here. We're going to try our best to be back around noon." Chan says and you open your eyes. You nod to him.

"I love you." Chan says kissing your head. "Love you too Channie." You say back to him and he smiles.

The rest of the boys go to you kissing your head and let out I love yous.

"We're leaving now baby. We'll be back soon. Maria's going to take good care of you. It's my fault you have food poisoning and I'm really sorry." Hyunjin says kissing your hand.

"It's okay Jinnie I'll be fine." You tell him as he nods and kisses your head once more. He gets up walking with the rest of the boys out of the house. You hear the door shut signalling your boyfriends left already.

"How are you feeling?" Maria asks as you sit up.

"Still feel nauseous but not like I'm going to puke my guts up anymore." You say and she comes to the edge of the bed and sits.

"Good. Do you have a fever or anything?" She asks you and shake your head.

"Are you hungry?" She asks feeling your head. You nod.

"Anything in particular?" Maria asks you as she moves her hand away.

"No you can pick." You tell her and she nods. "Is it okay if we make something light so you can keep it down?" You nod at her question.

"How about chicken noodle soup? I'm sure your chef boyfriend has the things for it." She says teasing you about Minho and you nod.

"Minho almost has nothing in the freezer that's quick to eat and he currently put a ban on me cooking." You tell her while pouting remembering your boyfriends words.

"What did you do?" She asks laughing. "I tried making dinner and burned it. He banned me for life." You say sighing.

"Well I won't burn the food I promise and he didn't ban me." Maria says and you smile.

"You want to come watch me or would you rather stay in here and get more sleep?" She asks you.

"Is it okay if I stay in here and get some more sleep?" You ask her and she smiles nodding.

She helps you lay back down. Before you know it you fall back to sleep.

You're awoken by Maria lightly shaking you. "Hey I'm done with the food." She says and you sleepily sit up.

She places it in your lap. "Here." She says and you start eating the soup. Yet another wave of nausea rolls over you. Maria sees you move the bowl to the nightstand and rush to the bathroom.

She goes in there after you lifting your hair. "Are you okay?" She asks you and you nod giving a thumbs up.

It soon goes away faster than it did earlier. There's an open cabinet as she helps you back up and flushes the toilet. She looks at the the open cabinet and inside are a box of tampons and there's pads beside it.

"Hey Y/N?" Maria asks you and you look at her but her eyes are on the tampons and pads. You hum.

"When did you last have your period?" She asks you now looking back at you.

Your eyes go wide looking back at her. "You don't think I'm pregnant do you?" You ask her and she nods. You look at her wide eyed and she quickly helps you back to the bed.

"Do you want me to call one of the boys and see if they can pick up a few pregnancy tests?" She asks you but you shake your head.

"I don't want the boys knowing. Not until I know for sure." You tell her and she nods understanding.

"Can I call one of my boys to bring some?" She says grabbing her phone and you nod. She quickly goes through her contact list.

She pulls up one and puts it on speaker and the phone rings but is picked up by the first ring. "Hey love." You hear a voice says. "Hi yeo. I have a question do you think you can go to a store with Hwa and pick up something for me?" Maria asks him.

"Uh sure. What do you need?" He asks her and she lets out a sigh looking at you.

"I need some pregnancy tests." She tells him and the line goes quiet.

"Why do you need pregnancy tests?" He asks her. She looks at you seeing if you'd let her tell him.

"Oh God. Are you pregnant? Hongjoong is going to kill all of us." He says over the phone slightly panicking. You let out a little laugh and so does she.

You nod letting her know she can tell him though. "No I'm not pregnant but if I was Hongjoong can't be mad because it'd be all of your faults." She says laughing and she hears Yeosang let out a sigh of relief.

"It's for Y/N. We think she might be pregnant. Can you get a few different ones for us?" She asks him.

"Yeah. Let me go get Seonghwa. We'll be over soon." Yeosang says.

"I love you." Maria says to him and he sighs again relieved.

"I love you too." He replies back and she hangs up.

You look at each other and burst out laughing. "Would Hongjoong really have killed them?" You ask her and she shrugs.

"He was part of it so I don't know." She says laughing still.

She calms down laughing. She looks at you smiling.

"What are you going to do if you are pregnant?" She asks you.

"Set up an appointment to make sure." You tell her smiling.

"Are you going to find out which ones the father?" She asks you and you shake your head.

"No. I don't think so. I don't think that'd matter to them and it doesn't matter to me anyways." You tell her and she nods.

"When are you going to tell them if you are?" She asks you and you take a deep breath.

"I'm not entirely sure." You say sighing.

"Well I think the sooner the better. The faster you do that the faster you can start planning for baby stuff." She tells you and you nod agreeing.

You guys continue talking about all the what ifs and soon there's a knock on the door. You and Maria get up going to it and Yeosang and Seonghwa are standing there.

You invite them and they go to the couch. Yeosang hands you the bag filled with tests. "We got you 3." Yeosang says looking at you and they nod.

You go to the bathroom and pull out the tests. You read the instructions the wait time on them being all the same and pee on the sticks. You set all 3 down on the counter and sigh. You wash your hands.

You walk out and Maria looks at you. You go to the couch sighing. "How long?" She asks you. You sigh "5 minutes."

"Are you ready for the results?" Seonghwa ask you. You nod and he smiles.

"What are you hoping the results are?" Yeosang asks you as he holds Seonghwas hand.

You sigh. "I hope it's Positive but I think I'll be fine even if it's Negative." You say and he nods.

"You guys have been together now for almost 4 years. So I'm glad this is something you want." Maria says and you nod.

"I hope this doesn't sound rude but do the boys want it?" Seonghwa asks and Yeosang elbows his boyfriend.

He glares at him and so does Maria. "Oh no that's fine. I mean I hope they do." You say smiling.

"Well then I'm sure it'll be positive then." Seonghwa says smiling at you.

"I think it's been almost 5 minutes. Do you want me to come with you?" Maria asks and you nod. She follows you into the bathroom and you take a deep breath.

"I don't think I can read this Maria." You say turning around and she hugs you.

"Do you want me to read them first?" She asks you and you nod. You move out the way so she can go to the counter. Her face shows no emotions not giving away what they say.

"Your turn." She says and backs up. You take steps over towards the counter.

You look down and they all read positive. You look at Maria who smiles at you. You start crying from how happy you were currently.

Maria goes up to you hugging you. "You're going to be a mom." She says and you can't believe the words that come out her mouth.

"You can come here Hwa and Yeo." She yells and she hears footsteps. Seonghwa and Yeosang look at you confused. Maria smiles and they know they all must read positive.

"I thought this was something you wanted?" Yeosang says and you nod.

"It is. I'm just so happy." You say and Yeosang and Seonghwa nod smiling at you.

You cry into Maria who just lets you cry happy tears until you calm down. "Okay maybe now I want to be pregnant." Maria says as she helps you throw away the tests and clean up.

"Go talk to Joong about that. If he agrees I think we'd all be more than willing to." Seonghwa says leaning his head on his boyfriend.

"We've been together for 5 years. A baby wouldn't hurt anything." Maria says to her boyfriends and you laugh.

"Maybe you guys should talk to Hongjoong then." You say and she looks at them pouting.

"Okay fine. We'll talk to him." Yeosang says giving in to her. "What's the worst that can happen? He says no?" Yeosang says shrugging.

"That'd be so cool. Me and you both being pregnant and our kids growing up with each other." She says smiling while looking at you and you smile at her back.

"Wait a minute. Now I have to apologize to Hyunjin because he didn't give you food poisoning." Maria says and you laugh.

You all head back to the living room and the door opens revealing all 8 of your boyfriends. Their eyes fall on you as half of them immediately come up to you.

Changbin comes to you picking you up and spinning you. He kisses you and you hear a gagging sound and look at Maria. "Don't act like they don't do that either." You tell her and she smiles.

"Oh Wooyoung does worse." Seonghwa says laughing.

"We've come home from practice and Wooyoung has jumped on her on more than one occasion causing them both to fall onto the couch." Yeosang says laughing and Maria rolls her eyes.

"What are you guys doing here?" Chan asks them with an eyebrow raised. Their eyes dart to yours and Marias.

"We got bored and Y/N and me wanted some company. That's okay right?" She asks Chan who nods even though he's slightly suspicious.

"I think it's time for us to go." Maria says and you nod waving to her as her, Seonghwa, and Yeosang leave.

"Did you miss us?"Changbin asks you and you nod as Jisung kisses all over your face.

"Did you end up eating anything?" Minho asks you.

You sigh as Changbin sits you on the couch with him. "Maria made chicken noodle soup but I ended up throwing it up." You say and Minho sits on the couch beside you.

"Do you think you could go get me some chocolate covered strawberries?" You ask Minho who raises an eyebrow.

"You want chocolate covered strawberries but can't keep down chicken noodle soup?" He asks you and you nod.

Chan comes up to you. "I don't think you need that at the moment." Chan says and you don't know why but tears come to your eyes. Before you know it you're crying on Changbins lap.

The boys look at you concerned. "I want chocolate covered strawberries." You say emotional as you sob on Changbins lap.

"Please don't cry okay? We'll get you chocolate covered strawberries." Chan says rubbing your back calming you. It doesn't take long before your sobs are now hiccups.

"Me and Minho will go get you chocolate covered strawberries right now okay? So please don't cry anymore." He tells you and you nod.

Him and Minho look at each other putting their shoes back on and Changbin holds you rubbing your back as they leave.

"You okay baby?" He asks you and you don't even know why you were crying.

"I'm okay." You say as Felix leans his head on Changbin looking at you.

"Good." He says letting out a sigh of relief. Seungmin sits on the edge of the couch watching you with a raised eyebrow. You were never this emotional, not even on your period.

Seungmin wasn't the only one who had noticed that. Hyunjin had an eyebrow raised too. What had happened in the last couple hours to make you so sensitive about chocolate covered strawberries?

You lean into Changbins chest as he wraps his arms around you holding you until your boyfriends came back. In the door walks a soaked Chan and Minho but they have exactly what you asked for.

"You're so damn lucky we love you." Minho grumbles as he shuts the door. He reminded you of a soaked cat.

"Here love." Chan says as you sit up in Changbins lap. "Again as your boyfriend I advise you not to eat them right now but you can go ahead if you want." Chan says and you feel bad but the urge to taste one overtakes it. You open it and bite into one. You finish it and you don't feel like puking your guts up.

The boys look at you in confusion considering that you had thrown up the chicken noodle soup earlier but currently were keeping down chocolate covered strawberries.

You offer them each one and they take it. Before long they're all gone. They all knew something was off at this point as Minho took the trash from you. "You feel better?" I.N. asks and you nod.

"Good." He says showing you his teeth with a smile.

Suddenly Minho comes into the living room. "Why are there tests in the trash?" Minho asks with an eyebrow raised at you.

"Tests?" Hyunjin replies back.

"What kind of tests?" Chan asks back to his younger boyfriend.

"Pregnancy tests." Minho says bluntly crossing his arms looking at you. All of the boys eyes fall on you.

You sigh as the boys wait for an answer. When you don't immediately answer Hyunjin speaks up. "Are they yours or Maria's?" Hyunjin asks you.

Your eyes meet his and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "Mine." You say and the boys look at you in surprise.

"Are you messing with us right now? We're bring punked right?" Jisung asks you and gets a smack on the back of his head.

"After I had thrown up the chicken noodle soup Maria noticed that one of the cabinets was left open and noticed my stuff for my period. She asked me if I had period and I realized it's been a month. She called Yeosang and Seonghwa asked them to bring tests because I wasn't ready to tell you guys." You say looking down at the ground wanting to cry but a hand comes under your chin and makes you look up.

"It's okay love but why weren't you ready to tell us?" Changbin asks you and you shrug having no real answer.

"That's okay. What did the tests say?" Seungmin asks you and you let out another sigh.

"Positive. All 3." You say and the shocked faces return once again.

"You're pregnant?" Felix says mouth wide open in shock.

"I don't know for sure yet so we'll need to set up an appointment but yes." Suddenly you feel him picking you up and spinning you as he laughs. "You're pregnant." He shouts over and over and you can't help but laugh and feel dizzy. He puts you down and you stumble lightly.

Chan is quick to grab you and bring you into his arms. "Careful Lix. She's carrying our baby." Chan says holding you so you don't fall from the dizziness.

"Sorry. I'm just excited." Felix says smiling ear to ear.

You look over and you see Minhos hands covering his face as he sits on the couch. Chan lets go of you looking over at Minho. You make your way to him. "You okay?" You ask him and he looks up at you.

"Yeah. Just processing it." He says grabbing you and bringing you into his lap. He holds you against him and you lay your head on his chest.

"I love you so much. All of you." He says as you listen to his heartbeat.

"We love you too." You reply back. Minho sighs.

"There's no one else we'd rather have a baby with." Minho says letting you listen to his heartbeat.

"I hope not." You say laughing and Minho can't help but laugh at your joke too.

"I'm serious." He says after that. You nod against him.

You lift your head and look at the boys seeing Jisung pouting. "What's wrong with you Ji?" You ask him. You make grabby hands for him and Minho moves.

"Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Seungmin asks and you put a finger to your lips shushing him and he listens.

"Come here my baby." You tell him and he does exactly that. He goes up to you and you signal for him to sit in your lap. He whines embarrassed but does exactly that.

You wrap your hands around his waist and he rests his head in your neck clearly embarrassed. "What's wrong Ji?" You ask him and he sighs after getting over his embarrassment.

"Yeosang and Seonghwa knew before us." He says and it's muffled but you let out a slight laugh. "Don't laugh at me. I'm serious. Why did they get to know before us?" Jisung says looking at you now.

"They just happened to be here and they brought me the tests so of course I had to let them know. Plus I didn't technically tell them. Maria did." You say looking at him. He nods understanding but that doesn't make the pout leave his face. You kiss his lips and the pout leaves.

"You can get off her now. She's carrying our baby remember?" Seungmin says and Jisung gets to get off you but you keep your hands around his waist. "Stop being mean Minnie. Jisung is perfectly fine sitting on my lap it's not like he's pressing into my stomach." You tell him and he sighs.

"Not trying to. I'm just worried." He says coming up to you. You nod at his words as he kisses your forehead. "Don't be. I'm fine okay? Jisung sitting on my lap won't hurt me." You tell him intertwining your fingers together.

"Okay." He says and suddenly I.N. is on your other side.

"Who's going to the first appointment with you?" He asks and you shrug. His eyes light up. "Do you want to go with me Innie?" You ask him and he nods smiling.

You hear a whine come from Jisung. "You'll go with me to my next appointment okay?" You tell him and he nods.

"Do you want to find out which one of is the father? I mean I don't think it matters to us we're still going to love the baby and help you raise it all together." Hyunjin asks you.

"No. It doesn't matter much to me. Unless you guys would want to know?" You ask them. They all shake their heads.

"What do you hope it is?" Jisung asks to no one in particular.

"A girl. I want to dress her in the cutest little outfits. She'd look so cute." Felix says gushing over the baby.

"Well I want a boy. I also want to dress him in the cutest little outfits." Hyunjin says and you laugh.

"What about you Y/N?" Jisung asks you.

"I honestly don't care as long as they're healthy." You say and the boys nod at you smiling.

"Well whatever it is. We're happy as long as you are." Chan says kissing your lips.

"That's Chans way of saying he wants a boy." Jisung says but that earns him a pinch by Minho.

Chan rolls his eyes at his boyfriends antics. "If you're healthy and so is the baby I don't care." Minho says and you smile.

"I hope it's a boy." Jisung says excitedly and you laugh. "I can tell love." You say grabbing his hand bringing it to your lips to kiss.

Changbin leans against you. "A girl doesn't seem too bad." Changbin says happily.

"What about twins?" Seungmin says and you look at him rolling your eyes with a smile.

"You think we all can take care of 2 kids?" You tell him and he nods. "There's 9 of us. Of course we can." Seungmin says.

"I hope it's twins now." Jisung says and he brings a hand to your stomach.

"I'm not sure what you're expecting to feel because they're still growing." You tell him and he shrugs.

"Doesn't matter. You're having one or two of our babies." Jisung says happily.

I.N. grabs one of your hands. "I think a girl and a boy would be adorable." He says telling you.

"Even if it's only one we can always try again." Hyunjin says smiling mischievously and he gets hit on the back of his head.

"Do you only ever think about sex?" Minho asks him and Hyunjin pouts.

"Of course not. I was just saying." Hyunjin says and you kiss his lips.

"Maybe Jinnie." You tell him and he smiles.

"You need to get some sleep love. I'm sure you're still exhausted." Chan says and you nod.

"Yeah." You say and Jisung moves off of you.

You make your way to the room followed by the 8 boys who are watching your every step. This was going to be a difficult time but at least you had your 8 boyfriends.

Taglist: @queenmea604 @lolareadsimagines @tinyworld18 @liv302 @jinniespuppy @stephy-nicole13 @freyaniobe @chansbabygirlsstuff @jkookiejiminlvr @hyuneyeon @sirenthalia @nagadiluc @tenshimara @leeknowleeknow @boi-bi-ahaha @shltsnglggles @jfkedldndkd @tinystarsthing @armystay89 @baby-fairy-yas @haileybugulug @freckleboilix @im-sinking-in-mud @thatoneperson1911 @lmaouwu @greysweaters-blog @katrodriguez99 @3rachasninja @amararosesblog @1alesakura @m4gg13-g @vampcharxter @noellllslut @berryberrytan @junebug032 @jeonginwvr @jeongchaos @emyferra08 @stvrfir3 @feybin @mauvemelon @worcesheshestershiresauce @realrintaro @katsukis1wife @foliea @krishastumblernow @pretty-blkgirl @mrsseochangbin @cyberpunksunwoo @nobody3210

#poly skz #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

230 notes · View notes

mais-nerdy-corner · 10 months

Note

Have I sent a request to you already or is this my first? If it is then I want another Tighnari fic. Anything will do. But I prefer reading it with a female reader. I just want to be loved by TIGHNARI. Give me fluff please please please or angst if you feel like it, I equally love both. I want Tighnari to love me please please please.

Also, I had been looking for your Tighnari fic where reader is dead and only left with his daughter. Thank you for making it.

I just divorced Wanderer.

❝𝕾𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝕳𝖊𝖗𝖊❞ | 𝕿𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖓𝖆𝖗𝖎 𝖝 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Synopsis: What if Tighnari's spouse didn't succumb to her illness in an alternative universe/timeline.

Pairing: Tighnari x Female! Reader

Genre: Angst & fluff, hurt/comfort

💮 — Author Answered: Nope, I'm pretty sure this is your first one (if I'm not gravely mistaken :v). Lucky for you, I had something chilling in my drafts for quite some time (and I kinda miss writing for Tighnari). Thanks for the request!

Note: The synopsis will probably make more sense if you've read the first part (or you can read it after this, I won't judge you). Also, I know that alternative universe and alternative timeline are two entirely different things, but I don't know what's the difference. So I just put both, you get the point hehe :3

Perched atop of the largest tree in Gandharva Ville, is a little fox-eared girl adorned in flowers complete with floral binoculars as well. Her name is Zahra. She was surveying the grey skies above Pardis Dhyai, which means it was bound to rain there. Knowing that, there's only one thing came to her mind.

'Papa...'

As she continued to look through her binoculars, Zahra's large and pointy ears twitched a few times. Not because they're itchy, but because she was not alone.

"There you are, my little flower. What are you doing up here? Get down."

It was you, her mother. Hearing you call her, Zahra immediately got down to a much safer place. You kneeled down in front of the little girl, holding both of her hands in yours.

"What are you up to now? Hmm?"

Your question earned a silence from Zahra, as she looked back at the direction she surveyed earlier. Zahra may be the type of child who often gets into trouble, but she will never keep secrets. And she felt safe enough to share it with you.

"...I'm worried that Papa hasn't applied his plant-based waterproofing oil to his tail before leaving for Pardis Dhyai. And looking at the color of the sky above it, it looks like it's going to rain heavily," Zahra confessed.

You let out a sigh of contentment as you went to pat your daughter's head.

"That's very considerate of you, Zahra. But your father will be fine. He doesn't want us worrying about him all the time, does he? So I know he can take care of himself."

"...Yeah, you're right. Maybe I was worrying about nothing. Thanks, Mom," Zahra said.

You smiled at her before standing back up. Pulling out your floral pocket watch, it showed a bit past lunch time.

"A little past lunchtime... You haven't had lunch yet, have you, sweetheart? What do you want to eat?"

"Uhh... Ooh! Mushroom Hodgepodge!"

"Even your tastes resemble your father's, huh? Alright, let's get Ashpazi to cook it for you."

(Meanwhile, at Pardis Dhyai)

The Traveler had just finished talking with the manifestation of the Balladeer, indicated by showcasing his newfound power by causing lightning around Pardis Dhyai. Paimon who remembered that Tighnari and Dehya were still outside, immediately asked the Traveler to go check on them.

"That means anyone outside is in danger! Let's go, Tighnari and Dehya still must be fighting!" Paimon urged.

They ran outside and saw that the Fatui soldiers were not there, meaning they must have retreated.

"Oh, have the Fatui retreated?" Paimon wondered.

"Tighnari and Dehya are over there!"

The Traveler and Paimon rushed over to them, and something seemed amiss.

"Hey! What happened to you!?"

"He's hurt," Dehya said.

Tighnari quickly denied Dehya's words, but regretted it soon after. "I'm fine... Ugh!"

"Don't move. I've seen Eremites get struck by lightning before. You need to rest."

"Struck by lightning!?" Paimon exclaimed.

Dehya recall what happened when the both of them were not there. How the weather suddenly became abnormal, how lightning started attacking everyone, almost as if it were alive. Just very bizarre things, to the point of forcing the Fatui soldiers to retreat.

The Traveler apologizes for Tighnari's wound, reasoning that it was probably them who might have triggered the thunder and lightning.

"Huh... It's alright, I'm sure you also never expected this to happen. Don't blame yourself," Tighnari said.

Even though he is wounded, Tighnari still worries about others rather than himself. "My wound aside, you look like... you've seen something unpleasant. Is Haypasia alright?" he asked.

"She's okay for now, but I want to tell you something."

"Ugh...!"

"Hey! Didn't I tell you not to move?"

"Just in case... Ugh! Let's... go to Haypasia's place, and talk about things there."

They headed inside and continued their conversation. The Traveler recounted everything from "meeting" the Doctor at Port Ormos to their encounter with the Balladeer while checking up on Haypasia.

Hearing the explanation from the Traveler, Paimon, Tighnari and Dehya each had their own reaction. Paimon was surprised by what the Balladeer was thinking, Tighnari ridiculed the Akademiya's god creation plan, while Dehya had a more “positive” reaction.

Nonetheless, with the Doctor out of the picture, Dehya took this as their plan being successful.

"Yay, that's a big accomplishment!" Paimon cheered.

"Ugh! I'm... also happy for you," Tighnari said.

Dehya thanked Tighnari and told him to rest, along with the Traveler.

"Yeah, yeah... alright," he responded.

"Okay, that wraps things up for us here at Pardis Dhyai. Traveler, it's about time we rendezvous with the others at the Grand Bazaar. Let's continue to keep a low profile. You can head there once you're ready."

"Ugh... What... What time is it?"

By the time Tighnari woke up, it was already dark outside. That meant he must have had enough rest, so maybe this was the right time for him to get up.

"Agh! Perhaps... that wasn't such a good idea."

Tighnari sat back down and leaned against the wall behind him. He thought to himself, what should he do now? His body was aching from the long period of inactivity, but at the same time moving wasn't a good idea. So... what now?

Being so deep in thought, Tighnari forgot to pay attention to the "wall" he was leaning on, as it suddenly started to move.

"Hm? What the– Oh, Karkata. Sorry, I didn't realize that I was actually leaning on you."

"Kulilu?"

The mechanical crab Tighnari saved was named Karkata, created by a Sumerian researcher by the name of Abattouy. It seems surprised that Tighnari moved and thought it was the one who woke him up.

"Kuli..."

"Why are you apologizing? I'm the one who leaned on you and made you cautious so you don't wake me up, I should be the one apologizing."

It turned out that after some time spent with the mechanical crab, Tighnari began to understand what Karkata wanted to say. Certainly a lot easier to communicate with each other.

"Look, I'll just move over he—"

Tighnari quickly regrets his decision to move. Instantly, his entire body ached as he clutched on to his side. Karkata was confused about what to do seeing him in pain. It moved around, thinking of ways to help Tighnari but it hesitated.

Karkata suddenly remembered the cherry blossom bracelet you gave, which was laced at one of its joints.

(Flashback)

Tighnari took you to Pardis Dhyai to meet Karkata, and it was the first time you meet the mechanical crab. When you first approached Karkata, it was confused and somewhat cautious of you. It's understandable when you're meeting a complete stranger. But seeing Tighnari was the one who took you there, Karkata quickly warmed up to you.

"So, Karkata was created by your junior researcher named Abattouy?" you asked as you pet the mechanical crab.

Tighnari who was leaning against a tree answered, "Yes, he was the one expelled from the Akademiya for researching mechanical life forms. When Karkata took me and the Traveler to their 'new home', we only found his already cold body."

You grimaced at the image in your head. "I wouldn't know how to react if I were it too. Poor Karkata, it must have been through a lot..."

Suddenly, you took out a bracelet and tied it to one of Karkata's joints.

"Karkata, if you ever feel that you're troubled, always remember this bracelet. Come meet me at Gandharva Ville. Oh wait, do you even know the way there? Don't worry, next time ask Tighnari to show you the way."

(Flashback ends)

"Kalu! Kalu!"

"Agh... What is it, Karkata?"

The mechanical crab immediately showed the bracelet, and Tighnari slowly caught on.

"Isn't that the bracelet that Y/n gave you? What, do you want me to take you to her?"

"Kolu!"

Tighnari sighed. "As much as I want to, I can't. I can't move and who will look after Haypasia even if I could? Actually, now if I think about it, how can I even get there?"

(Back at Gandharva Ville)

"Aha! I won!"

"Aww, I lost... I must say, you're getting better at this, Zahra."

Sitting on the floor of Collei's hut, they were playing a game of Genius Invocation TCG with you as the audience. Collei won the previous match, this time it was Zahra's turn to win.

"Hehe, I like it when I win. Let's play again!" Zahra exclaimed.

"If you two keep going at it, eventually I will understand how to play this game. I can't focus on my work if all I think about is tactics and strategy to win. Plus, it's getting late and way past your bedtime."

"Aww, just one more match please~"

"At first I also still wanted to play because we tied. But now that I think about it, I'm getting pretty sleepy..." Collei spoke up.

"See, even your contender is unable to keep up. You can continue this tomorrow. Now, put your cards back into the box."

Zahra started tidying up her cards while you help Collei put her cards back into her Casket of Tomes. After she finished, Zahra's ears started twitching again, causing the fox girl to turn her head.

"Uncle Amir's dogs are barking again. Shouldn't they know how to behave by now?" Zahra said as she exits Collei's hut.

You and Collei watched Zahra leave before looking at each other and laughed.

"Be sure to wear a blanket when you sleep. It feels like it's going to be cold tonight."

"Mm-hm, I will. Goodnight, Y/n."

You kissed Collei goodnight before exiting her hut. You then found Zahra with her hands on her hips, examining the broken bridge.

"Someone really should do something about this bridge... Ooh! I have an idea."

Zahra then used the Dendro Vision on her to lift the two ends of the bridge and connect it with flowering vines.

"Eeepp! Doesn't that look pretty? Especially if you add small lanterns to the bridge," she said, satisfied with her work.

"As for the lanterns, I'll talk about it to your father or other Forest Watchers. And you should probably give back my Dendro Vision, Zahra. You wouldn't know when I'll need it."

"We're just dealing with some unruly dogs. There's no need to use your Vision, Mom."

Zahra was wrong. It wasn't just some unruly dogs. Amir's dogs were barking at the cowering Karkata who has brought Tighnari back to Gandharva Ville.

"Ugh...! Amir, can you tell your dogs to back down? They're scaring Karkata..."

"I'm trying...! Hey guys, calm down. The mechanical crab is friendly. It's one of us...! Come on, Sag. You're my best student, you should know better."

After seemingly succeeded in calming the dogs down, you arrived at the scene. The person you were waiting for his return was indeed back, but not in the condition you expected him to be.

"Tighnari?"

As Amir helped Tighnari down from Karkata, he let out a grunt, which made you rush to his side.

"What happened to you?"

"Stuff happened. It escalated to me having to clash with the Fatui and... Please don't panic when I say this... *sigh* ...I got struck by lightning," he answered.

"You got struck by lightning?!" You and Amir said at the same time.

Even though Tighnari told you not to panic, you couldn't help but do the exact opposite of what he just said. I mean, how could you not panic? The love of your life literally fought off soldiers from the most powerful military force in all of Teyvat, and then he got struck by lightning? How could you not?!

"In that case, I should carry you back to your hut. Here, get on my back," Amir said as he crouched down.

"That's not necessary, Amir. I can walk on my own."

Amir who was getting tired of his resisting colleague argued, "Please don't be so stubborn, Tighnari. What if you injure yourself more on the way there?"

"Here. Use this instead."

Zahra who had been silent all this time, suddenly brought a stretcher made from your Dendro Vision's powers. She probably made it when you and Amir were panicking over Tighnari.

"Good thinking, Zahra! Alright, hand it to me," Amir said.

Tighnari sighed as he turned to his daughter, "You really shouldn't have, Zahra... I already told you... I'm... fine..."

"Tighnari!"

Tighnari's words trailed off as he slowly fell backwards. Luckily you were right beside him and were able to quickly caught him.

"Okay, maybe now the stretcher is needed. Nasrin, can you help us out over here? We need the extra help."

(In the early morning)

"Tighnari? Are you awake?"

Cyno the General Mahamatra invited himself to enter the Forest Watcher's hut. When he saw Tighnari and you had fallen asleep, holding his hand on the side of the bed, he wanted to take back his stupid question. But he was too late, because someone already answered him.

"Nope, obviously not. But I am, so, there's that."

"What are you doing up so early?"

It was Zahra, the Little Forest Ranger in Training. She was eating something as she sat down on her foldable mattress on the floor.

"I couldn't sleep after what happened last night, and probably because of the adrenaline that caused me not to realize that I'm hungry. I didn't want to wake anyone up so I cooked up a bowl of mushroom rice for myself," she said.

"Then it must have been serious. Can you tell me what happened?" Cyno asked.

"I can, but not here. Again, I didn't want to wake anyone up and they both really needed their sleep. Let's go outside."

"Wait, before that, do you have a spare blanket that you're not using?"

'The General Mahamatra is cold?' is what Zahra first thought of when Cyno asked that question. Not wanting to question him, Zahra went to get a blanket that was stored in the lower cabinet of a shelving unit.

She then gave the blanket to Cyno, who then draped it over your shoulders. Zahra couldn't help but “aww-ed” a little.

"There. Come on, let's go," Cyno said.

With her blanket tied around her neck and her bowl of mushroom rice in hand, Zahra and Cyno exited the hut and looked for a place to sit.

"Now that we're outside, can you tell me what happened?"

Zahra then recounted the incident last night.

"I had just finished playing Genius Invocation TCG with Collei when I heard Uncle Amir's dog barking. So me and Mom went to che—"

"Did you win or did you lose?"

"Huh?"

Cyno's interruption did surprise Zahra, but she laughed it off. "We actually tied. So we'll continue it tomorro– Wait... technically it's today huh..."

"Hm. And although I can't be there to witness it, I'll be rooting for the both of you. I don't care who wins or loses, I will be happy either way."

"Aww, thanks. Now, can I continue the story?"

(A flashback that's written from Zahra's POV)

I watched as Nasrin and Uncle Amir carried Papa off to the hut, with Mom following behind. I then approached the mechanical crab that had been silent from earlier.

"I believe your name is Karkata, isn't it? I just wanted to say on behalf of my mom and also from myself, thank you for bringing my Papa back safely. She didn't mean to forget to thank you, probably because of her panic. And don't worry, Papa is in good hands. I've made sure of it."

"Kolu!"

"Hehe. Now go hang out somewhere away from the dogs. I'll go check on things over there."

By the time I got inside, they've already taken off Papa's hoodie. I still remember how shocked I was to see the scar on his upper body. It spread out like tree roots, with an electrifying purple tint.

I can't lie that I'm scared and worried, but I'm trying to keep my cool. On the other hand, mom is really freaking out. She paced around the room, checking Papa over multiple times, getting ingredients for the ointment, even messing up her workplace in the process.

At that moment, I just knew I had to do something.

"Zahra, give me back my Dendro Vision. I need it to–"

I grabbed onto Mom's hands and held it, looking at her with a stern look. I could tell from her face that she was a little surprised by my actions.

"I can take over from here. You can go out and take a breather."

I knew Mom would refuse and try to argue, so I quickly silenced her.

"It's okay, you've done well. You deserve a break."

She simply sighed and left the hut.

(Flashback and Zahra's POV ends)

"So what happened afterwards?" Cyno asked.

"Well, I did my thing and let Mom back in. I found her hugging her knees just outside the hut on the floor. She immediately rushed to Papa's side the moment I told her she was allowed back in. It also couldn't be help that the commotion woke Collei up..."

"Hm. I see..."

Cyno then went silent and was deep in thought. Zahra was silent too and was just about to spoon a spoonful of mushroom rice into her mouth, when she realized that her bowl was empty.

'Aww, I'm out of mushroom rice...' she thought.

Suddenly, the General Mahamatra stood up and pat Zahra on the head.

"Whaa– Hey!"

"I have to go now. Today is going to be a big day for the people of Sumeru, and I have to make sure the preparation is thorough. Get enough rest so you can win that Genius Invocation TCG match!" Cyno said.

"Oh, okay. Geez, excited much... Uhh, good luck, Uncle Cyno!"

(A couple of days later)

You heard the sound of birds chirping, that meant your consciousness was starting to return. When you woke up and looked at the hut's entrance covered by the large leaf curtains, you noticed how bright it is outside. It couldn't be that it's still early, right? So you got up, tidy up your bed and headed out.

"Good morning, Y/n! I see that you decided to sleep in today. So I made some Pita Pockets for breakfast. Would you like one?"

As you rubbed your eyes, you processed the voice that greeted you. And after a while, you realized it was Collei.

"Collei? What are you doing out of bed? You could've gotten yourself injured. What if you fall over?"

"No, it's okay. Don't worry! I feel much more energized than the previous day," she replied.

Hearing her reply, you then sighed. "I appreciate your effort in convincing me, Collei. But I'm afraid I–"

"No, this is for real! It feels like as if my Eleazar disappeared without a trace..."

"...What?"

Unintentionally, you pulled Collei's hand a little too hard to confirm what she said. When you realized you're being too rough, you murmured a quiet 'sorry' before continuing. You detached her sleeves to see the dark, hardened scales on her wrists had disappeared completely.

(Somewhere nearby)

Tighnari and Zahra were alerted by the sound of crying, sounding like it was coming from nearby. The Forest Watcher asked her to investigate the sound with him. The little fox-eared girl quickly stuffed her half-eaten Pita Pocket into her mouth, before putting down her plate and taking her other Pita Pocket with her.

"Y/n, what happened?"

The moment they reached the location, Zahra and Tighnari were stunned. They saw you crying as you crouched down and Collei who was confused about how to comfort you.

While Zahra took a bite of her Pita Pocket as a way of reducing her shock, Tighnari let out a sigh of contentment.

"I guess you found out about Collei's recovery if you're crying like that, Y/n. I too was shocked when she said that the scales on her body had disappeared. At first I thought that it was impossible since Eleazar had no known cure, but I gave up figuring out how. I think, for now, it's best if we be grateful for this unexpected miracle."

"I can assure you that these are tears of happiness, Tighnari," you said as you hugged the Trainee Forest Ranger.

The Forest Watcher came closer and pulled the both of you into a hug. Zahra who was still chewing the rest of her Pita Pocket, quickly swallowed it and joined in.

"Hey, I'm being left out! Group hug!"

[Author's Note]: Oh noo, poor Hat Guy 😅 I'm sorry this took so long, but I managed to finish it as my internship program is coming to an end. I only have about 10 days of break before returning back to school 😭

Hopefully I could finish that other request that's nowhere near done before I start my senior year of high school. Wish me luck :')

Publication date: July 6th 2023

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #tighnari #tighnari x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff

153 notes · View notes

selfindulgentpixies · 9 months

Text

So I wrote a very self indulgent Satoru Gojo x reader fic to cope with a couple of bad sensory overload days I had a week or two ago and it's just been sitting in my drafts half finished until tonight. Got a boost of spiteful inspiration since I spent most of today in bed with a migraine.

Contains: gn!reader, mentions of sensory overload, brief mentions of getting ill, Gojo being sweet and taking care of you, reader has a cat, reader wears glasses

Take me home tonight

Gojo could tell something was wrong as soon as you’d walked into the meeting late, not just late but later than him, looking frazzled. Even if you shared his disdain for the higher ups you played your role well enough, always on time, students cared for, work taken care of with what could sometimes be considered malicious compliance if you were pushed the wrong way. But that wasn’t the you he saw try to quietly slip into the meeting. You looked washed out, nauseous even. It wasn’t helped when the higher ups tried to lay into you for being so late. You looked panicked which is when he swept in. Taking their attention off you. He’s not even sure you take in anything that’s being said but you at least send him a small and grateful smile.

The meeting is barely over before you’re getting up to leave, ignoring any protest at your abrupt exit. He quickly finds you when he leaves, between his long strides and six eyes it’s easy to find you and catch up to you. You’ve stopped to sit, heels of your hands pressed against your eyes and your glasses dangling loosely from your fingers. He plops down on the bench next to you and speaks. “Mind telling me what that was all about?” He doesn’t miss how you flinch at his voice. He’s known you long enough to catch on and his voice is quieter the next time he speaks. “One of those days then?”

You give a jerky lil nod, still covering your eyes. Even though your lenses on your glasses were transitions they weren’t activated by the lights inside the building, the barely there default tint of them not enough at the moment which was probably why you were just holding them and sitting with your eyes covered. “Y-yeah. Had a mission in the city, dealt with a curse that could manipulate light, and everytime it attacked it let out a high pitched buzzing noise, it was like the world’s worst rave and then I came straight here for the meeting.” He frowns a bit at that. Really you should have just gone home.

“You don’t even like normal raves.” His tone isn’t something you’re able to parse at the moment, but there’s a playful enough note to it that it gets you to smile just a little..

“You’re right, I don’t.”

Still speaking softly, so much so that only you can hear him even as other staff pass by. “You went into the crowded city,” you nod, “went to hell’s light show,” you nod again at his words, “And still decided to go back through the city to sit in a brightly lit meeting room and deal with the higher ups?”

“That sums it up, yeah.” You part your fingers ever so slightly to glance at him but quickly close them.

He sighs. “Here, keep your eyes closed but move your hands.”

“Gojo?” You question as you hear the shifting of fabric.

“It’s fine just move your hands,” he gently coaxes you and you feel his cool dry hands gently pull your own from your face. Then he’s gently tugging something over your head and you realize he’s putting his blindfold on you, the thick soft cloth finally blocking out all light. Instead of tucking it behind your ears he pulls it slightly lower so it covers them and at least partially softens the sounds around you. You’re both quiet for several moments until he takes your glasses and tucks them into his pocket. You don’t see that of course but you trust him to not break the things you need to see since you’ll want to see again eventually. “You still with me?”

“Y-yeah, thank you. Don’t you need this though?”

You don’t see him shrug but he does it anyway. “I’ll be fine without it for a bit. I’ve got my sunglasses if it gets bad. I think you need it a lot more than me right now. Do you want me to take you home? You can’t make it there blind so i’ll-”

“Gojo, if you teleport me right now I’ll probably throw up on you.”

“Gross.”

“I’m just being honest.”

He hums in thought. “How about I just carry you to my office then? It’s nice and cool in there and I can draw the blinds.”

You’re quiet for a moment and he almost asks again until you nod. “Y-yeah alright.”

When he picks you up he does so with care, making sure he doesn’t do anything unexpected. Normally the idea of being touched by Gojo would be much more pleasant but each point of contact makes your clothes rub more uncomfortably against your skin. You don’t complain though and just let him carry you. You tuck your head into his neck. You’ll probably feel mortified later but right now all you care about is being somewhere dark and quiet. You think you hear some of the students start to speak to him and maybe begin freaking out when they see that he’s carrying you but his energy shifts slightly and you hear him shush them. Surprisingly they immediately comply. You imagine it has everything to do with the shift in his energy and not respecting the fact that they’d been hushed.

There’s the soft sound of a door opening and then being closed again before you find yourself being set on a comfortable chair. “Just get some rest alright? I’ll be back.”

“Thank you, Gojo.” You curl up in the chair and he smiles a little at you.

–

You’re a little surprised later when you open your eyes and are faced with complete darkness. Your brain is hazy and takes a moment to catch back up to you. You vaguely remember the conversation with Gojo and him slipping his blindfold on you- oh. Right. You reach toward your face and push up the dark fabric. You blink in the low light of the room. Gojo is at his desk, looking terribly bored of doing his paperwork in the dim lamplight. At least you think he looks bored with how he’s resting his cheek on his fist and holding a document in his other hand. You can’t really see anything else without your glasses.

He perks up when he notices you looking at him. “Hey there, feeling any better?” His voice is still quiet just in case your ears were still sensitive. He gets up and grabs something from his desk before walking over to you. You can now see that he’s holding your glasses.

“Yeah, still a lil fuzzy but definitely better.” You give him a sleepy but grateful smile. He almost wishes you hadn’t taken your glasses back because he knows that as your vision comes back into focus you’re now able to see how pink his cheeks are. You look so cute half asleep and it’s not really a vulnerable moment he’d ever thought he’d get to see you in. Especially not curled up in his office with his blindfold sitting part way on your head leaving your hair mussed up. You sit up and stretch, arching your back in a way that gets his eyes to track over your body before you pull the blindfold the rest of the way off your head and press it into his hand. “Really thank you. I hate to say it but I was on verge of tears before you helped me out.”

He pulls the blindfold over his head but lets it rest around his neck instead of pulling it over his eyes. “It’s no problem really. You weren’t acting like yourself. Next time just go home if you feel that way. I’ll cover for you if you need me to.”

You scratch at the back of your neck. “You already do so much, I don’t feel like I should be asking you to do that.”

He shakes his head. “I mean it. Gives me an excuse to give those old bastards a hard time.”

You snort. “As if you need me to give you an excuse.”

He smiles but otherwise doesn’t respond to that particular comment. “I do mean it. I think you might be surprised by how well I understand what you were going through. It’s not exactly the same but there’s a reason I always have my eyes covered.”

“Yeah alright then… I’ll let you know next time.”

His smile widens into a grin, bringing out his dimples.”Good. Now how about I bring you home now? I doubt you want to deal with the trains.”

“Gojo, if I throw up-”

“Then that’s literally on me.”

“Gross,” you echo his comment from earlier.

—-

You don’t get sick from being teleported but it’s a near thing as you lean heavily against Gojo in your entryway. He raises an eyebrow at you. “You gonna be alright?”

“Y-yeah I’m good.” You let out a slow breath before taking your weight off him and toeing off your shoes in the entryway. “Did you want to come in for a bit? I won’t be up for long but I should fix something to eat. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.

Gojo studies you for a moment, and without his blindfold in place you feel exposed. “How about I order us takeout then?”

“I don’t know if I should eat anything greasy right now.”

“I can order you some soup. I know a place.”

You consider his offer for a moment before nodding. “Yeah okay. Sounds good.” You begin to walk toward the main part of your apartment. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up while you order food. Make yourself at home okay?”

He hums in the affirmative before you vanish into your room.

—

When you emerge a bit later you’re wearing a clean pair of sweatpants and one of your sleep shirts, which was really just an oversized band-t. You’ve made a half hearted attempt to dry your hair with a towel. The apartment is filled with the smell of food making your stomach growl and drawing you more quickly to the main part of your apartment. Gojo has made himself comfortable just like you’d told him to. There’s containers of food spread out in front of him on your coffee table and he’s relaxed into the love seat with your cat on the back by his head. The little shit sniffing and chewing at his hair, which you suppose meant Gojo passed your feline companion’s test for being allowed to exist in your space. But what really gets your attention is how Gojo has discarded his work jacket and is just sitting there in a tight black t-shirt that clings to him like a second skin. It takes your breath away a little because while you knew he was probably muscular in theory it just never really sank in because he always wore such baggy clothes.

“You just going to keep standing there staring holes into me or are you gonna join me for dinner?” His voice is full of amusement.

You squeak. Of course he noticed you. “S-sorry. I was just surprised. My cat doesn’t normally like when there are men in the apartment he doesn’t know.” It’s only a half lie.

Gojo snorts and glances back at you. “You have a lot of strange men over?” He says in a teasing tone.

“No. Just.. he hates whenever maintenance is here and he attacked poor Nanami’s leg once when he stopped by.”

Oh now that makes Gojo laugh, loudly in fact, though he quietens himself down to chuckles when he notices you flinch at the noise. “Maybe your cat is a bad judge of character, liking me more than Nanami,” he surprises you by saying at his own expense.

“No, I think he just picked up on how at ease you seem to be here,” you say this reflexively though a second thought occurs to you moment after when you remember how Gojo had carried you and you’d buried your face in his neck. Your scent must be clinging to him and especially to his blindfold that he's still wearing around his neck. The thought makes you blush and he tilts his head at you for a moment before gesturing for you to come sit down, patting the cushion beside him.

You suddenly wish your apartment wasn’t so sparsely furnished but since it was normally just you here the only place to sit in the living room really is directly next to Gojo. You consider saying you should move to the kitchen table but did you actually want to miss an opportunity to be so close to Gojo when he was offering it? The answer was apparently ‘no’ as you make your way over. He crosses his legs to make room for you and you take your seat next to him. At your arrival your cat mrrps and headbutts the back of your head before leaving.

“Now-” Gojo leans forward picking up a container and a spoon for you, “go ahead and eat.” Once he’s sure you have a good grip and aren’t going to drop hot soup on the two of you he grabs his own food and sits back, his arm brushing against you. The two of you eat in silence your arms occasionally knocking into each other as you fill your empty stomachs.

Before long you’re drowsily sagging to the side and Gojo is gently taking the mostly empty container from your hands. This causes you to jerk and blink up at him groggily. “Ah sorry-”

He chuckles. “You don’t need to apologize, you’re exhausted. Why don’t you head to bed? I’ll clean up and head out after alright?”

You feel a little guilty. “You don’t need to clean up, Gojo.”

He holds up a hand. “It’s not a big deal really. You just get some rest.”

He stands and stretches, and he reminds you a bit of a very oversized cat. his fingers brushing your low ceiling. Then he’s holding a hand out to you and pulling you up from the loveseat. The two of you say your goodnights and goodbyes before you shuffle your way to your room. He stands there in your living room with an impossibly fond smile on his face. He catches your cat giving him what could be a judgmental stare from the corner of his eye. “Bet you think I should have asked them out, huh?” The cat just flicks his tail unimpressed. You, unaware of the small exchange between Gojo and your feline companion, fall asleep to the sounds of Gojo cleaning up.

The next morning you wake up to the chime of your phone. You bink blearily and fumble for your phone. When you unlock the screen you see you have a message from Gojo.

Gojo: hey I hope you’re feeling better this morning. if you’re up to it do you want to come meet me for breakfast? i’d like to ask you something.

You sit up and rub at your face before responding.

You: can’t you ask me over text?

Gojo: it’s something i’d rather ask you in person. so will you?

You: sounds a bit ominous but ok

Gojo: it’s nothing bad I swear!

You grin sleepily to yourself.

You: yeah yeah you’re just trying to lure me into a false sense of security

Gojo: you wound me!! i would never. sooo meet me in 30 minutes?

You: not giving me much time to wake up huh?

His next message is the location of a cafe not far from your apartment. He apparently took your question as a yes.

So you get up and scramble to get ready, you’re still a bit disheveled but you're comfortable enough around Gojo to not really care. As you shoo your cat away from the door so you can slip out you have no idea that when you return home it’ll be with your soon to be boyfriend.

____

And that's it! I just needed a comfort fic so i wrote it myself. I'm still working on chapter 7 of my Satoru x reader x Suguru fic. It's just taking time to pull together

@nanamikentoseyebags @strawberrystepmom @gojoest

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x gn!reader #gn!reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x reader #rossi writes

108 notes · View notes

grippingbeskar · 1 year

Text

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter twenty six - you bring me home

frank castle x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ content minors dni! (car sex lmaooo, mxf nothing you haven’t seen before, its pretty sweet <3) swearing, canon typical violence, mention of scars, injuries, blood, literally packed everything into this chapter its a big one

a/n: wow. this was so rough oh my god. the entire first draft deleted itself and i had to re write the whole thing from memory, so i lost my planned chapter. i really hope i got everything in here, and im sorry for the wait AND how long it is lmao but i just. can’t believe i really finished it. ill rant at the end, but if you only read this part, i love you. thank you for letting me share the absolute vomit that is my brain. you are the best.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How was the drive?” Franks voice sends a shiver down your spine, even hundreds of miles away through a crappy phone line.

“Boring.” You sigh, pacing around the tiny motel room.

“You were meant to call an hour ago. Got me waitin’ up for you.” He sounds tired, and it makes your heart skip a beat. It’s stupid, but the image makes you a little giddy. Waiting up for you.

“There was… traffic.”

“You get lost?”

“Fuck you.” You bite automatically and he groans.

“So yeah?”

“Yes, Frank. I got lost.” He laughs, the sound managing to take your mind off the dark room you’d managed to secure for the night, the bedside light doing nothing to brighten the small space.

“I gave you a map. It’s a straight shot from where you started.” Rolling your eyes, you look at the map you’d now bundled into a ball and thrown into the trash.

“Who uses a printed map? Seriously, how fucking old are you?” It’s playful and familiar, and all the frustration of driving for 10 hours melts into the bed.

Being a key witness in a now ongoing case apparently didn’t come with any frequent flyer miles, because both Matt and Frank had said you couldn’t risk going through airport security and being flagged in a system, so it meant you had to drive nearly 18 hours to Florida. You thought you didn’t mind road trips, but after today you think it’s only road trips with Frank you don’t mind.

“Maps don’t change, baby. Besides, you’d drive yourself into a god damn tree the second that voice in the car told you you’d missed a turn.” You hate that he’s right— even the thought of that monotone voice droning in your ear for ten hours makes you cringe.

“Whatever. Tell me about something. You said you were going to speak to Madani today?” He’s the one sighing now, and clearly the talk was about as fun as your drive.

“She’s all over the place. Some mishandled evidence fucked their entire case, and Bobby’s lawyers were too well paid to let it go. Murdock said they’ll be able to find more— the appeal’s already been approved cause of how high profile it is, but he’s got no new evidence. He said he doesn’t know if they can get him.”

“That’s… what I expected, I guess.” Frank agrees, and your sudden silence only serves to bring the real issue to hand. “You know where he is?”

“Yeah. I got it covered.” The line goes quiet, and you don’t really know what to say.

On one hand, you want Bobby dead. You know can’t do it- it wasn’t smart, and the last thing you were going to do is drag everything Matt and Madani had worked for through the mud for someone like him, let alone put Sam in danger. Some fucked up part of you is a little mad that it won’t be you, but Frank has every reason to hate him as much as you. You know Frank wants this, and that telling him to stop is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Your hesitation would only spur him to do it faster, be more impulsive. You don’t want to say anything to put him off.

On the other, you just want him with you. You worry like some love sick child, scared he’s walked out the door and isn’t coming back. You worry he’ll get caught, and end up in the exact spot he was trying to get you out of. You’re scared he’ll get hurt, or worse. Every time you close your eyes you can see him bleeding out, dark red staining your hands until you can scream yourself awake. There’s so many things that could go wrong, and ten hours staring over the hood of your car gives you way too much time to think about hypotheticals.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Frank says softly, and you flop yourself back on the single bed.

“Are you?” He huffs like the question is irrelevant.

“Madani asked about your dad today.” He ignores the question, and you’re too interested to poke him on it.

“Oh?”

“Asked what he knew about your time there. If he ever worked with the Gnucci’s.” A lump forms in your throat.

“You think she knows about the weird... blood stuff?”

“Don’t see why she would. Either way, it’s not gonna matter once he’s dead.” The bluntness of it almost makes you laugh. “He’ll be gone, and no one will come for it. Or you.”

“You don’t have to do this for me, Frank.”

“I’m not.” He pauses, and then sighs. “Alright, I am, but not just that. The shit he said to me in there— the things he said about you. The way he looked at you in there… I watched that shit, and there’s no way in hell that asshole does what he did and lives.”

“What if he was found guilty? Would you of left it alone?” Maybe if you’d been more helpful to Matt and Madani, it would of gone better, and Frank would be here.

“You want me to answer that?” A part of you knew he wasn’t going to let it go. That wasn’t who he was. It shouldn’t make you feel the way it does to know that Frank would kill for you— just to make you safe. It does anyway, and heat flushes over your face.

“Maybe you shouldn’t.” He agrees, a low sound rumbling from his end of the phone. “I spent most of the day wishing you were with me, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Turns out I fucking hate driving.” He laughs again, and if you could listen to the sound all night you think you’d sleep peacefully.

“You remember how mad you were that first time I didn’t let you drive?” Shaking your head, you flick off the lights slide under the covers.

“I was mad because you had a concussion and tried to fucking kill us.”

“Least I was gonna go the right way.”

“You tried switching drivers on the freeway, Castle.”

“Alright, I was a a bit out of it.” He says plainly and you smile so wide it hurts your cheeks. “Wished you were here, too.”

“I bet you did.” He groans, and you hear him shift on the bed. Your bed.

“Too much space in here. Didn’t even know we had this much blanket.” He makes a real noisy show of it, tossing around the blankets you usually roll yourself up in. It’s meant to be a light hearted thing, but for some reason the idea of Frank spread out on your shared bed, one that you’ve both used extensively— it makes your heart race.

“Dickhead.” He groans again, shuffling around some more. “This one’s too small. Probably have to sleep on top of each other if you were here.”

“M’alright with that.”

“Not a lot of room to move, though.” You look around at the room, hardly enough space to stand in the corner.

“We’d figure something out.” You let your eyes flutter closed, humming high pitched at the idea. “What are you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?”

“You.” You admit, and he seems to like it.

“Me too. Haven’t gone a night in this apartment without fuckin’ you in this bed. Drivin’ me crazy.” You hum again, pressing your thighs together to try and dissipate the heat that’s suddenly overtaken your whole body. “You thinkin’ about it now too, aren’t you baby?”

“Yeah, Frank.”

“Don’t say my name like that.” He growls, and you bite your lip to hide your laugh.

“Why not, Frank?” You practically purr the word, drawing it out and saying it all breathy like you do when he’s teasing you.

“Cause you’re gonna make me drive ten hours just to fuck you in whatever dirty motel you pulled off into.” You’re still smiling, but you think if you keep messing with him, he’d do it. He’d drive ten hours, a hundred of them if it meant teaching you a lesson. Or just being with you. “I’ll see you soon. Real soon, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You breathe out, knowing if you keep talking to him your entire plan will crumble in front of you, because you’re half considering driving home just to sleep next to him. “Soon. Be safe, okay?”

The words tumble out, and you try to hide the guilt you feel when you say them. He was only not safe because of you— because you couldn’t finish the job yourself. You’re glad he can’t see your face, because you hear him mumble on the other end and your eyes close listening to him.

“Always. Tell the kid I said hi.” With that, Frank hangs up the phone, and you slide it onto the table right next to the pistol you keep loaded and ready to fire.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank pulls the saturated beanie over his head, and it’s probably doing more harm than good at this point, but he doesn’t have a second to really give a shit. His eye-line is perfect— directed straight into the penthouse apartment Bobby Gnucci was driven to three hours ago. He’s been tucked away in the corner of the rooftop for just as long, watching the man pace and yell on the phone.

It had taken him a few goes to get the right frequency to listen in on the calls he was making, but once he had he took as much information done as he could. He’d had enough of watching, and now he was satisfied with the phones calls he’d listened to that the man was alone for the night; not counting his extensive security team layered through the apartment block. Frank felt the familiar hum in his veins, shoving his loaded pistol in his jeans and swinging the strap of a rifle over his shoulder, he headed down the stairs, across the street and slipped into the back of the building.

There’d be witnesses if he didn’t take the right route, and to make this work he needed every chance at an alibi he could get. He was so used to not caring— every time he’d gone into something like this, he didn’t have something to get back to. He had no preservation, no concern for what came after. Hell, if he was honest, he didn’t care if he went out doing something like this. He would of preferred it, maybe even hoped he’d die somewhere in the cross fire.

Even just talking to you on the phone had him itching to get back to you now. He wanted to be careful— something he never really thought of before. A heavy ache in his stomach that twisted something violent when he thought about not getting home, not making good on his promise from a few hours ago, it made him sick. He planned as much as he could, as much as he was capable of, and hoped to God it was enough.

Frank hid his body behind the corner of the wall. He hid his face, too, even though he’d already had Micro’s help shutting out the cameras. He knew it would set off alarms for the security team, but he planned for that. They’d spread out, follow orders that he’d listened to over the radio, three men on all the entries and exits, and then ten through the penthouse. If he timed it right, he could clear the first few levels before the guards arrived.

He didn’t care about making noise now— slamming his way up the fire access while Gnucci’s men no doubt got into position. He’d just past a number 6, and Bobby was on the top floor. 23. He kept going, not hearing any doors open. When he passed 9, the door on the level below him cracked open and he jammed through the next exit he reached, getting into position.

He could hear voices coming from his right, and steadied himself as he turned the safety off his gun. He had a small army of men to get through, but he knew if he could make it, landing the hit on Bobby would be easy.

He wasn’t nervous. Pure adrenaline flooded him, like it always did, and he didn’t think twice before standing out of cover and pulling the trigger.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“How have you grown so much?!” You nearly shout, hugging Sam tighter as he all but latches onto your leg. “God, you’re gonna be my height soon.”

“I missed you!” He says, words muffled in your jacket. You don’t even have to bend really, he’s that tall. It is even possible for him to grow that much in just a month? “Come! I want to show you my stuff. Me and Niko share a room, and it’s the coolest thing…”

You let him drag you around the house, showing you the bunk beds that are set up for him and Nikolai. He shows you books he’s brought home from school, and it makes you smile how chaotic his room is. There’s piles of books and papers everywhere, stuffed under the bed and nearly toppling on the tables. It looks like it’s lived in… like a home, and your heart warms and breaks all at once.

When he finally finishes his impromptu tour, he pulls you outside where the rest of the family has set themselves up, and runs out into the giant back yard to chase after Nikolai. You hardly had a chance to say hello to them, but if you were honest you hadn’t thought of anything but Sam since you saw him.

“Did he show you the bunk beds?” The doctor— Zaed, you remind yourself, comes up behind you on the deck. “He hasn’t stopped talking about showing you.”

“I thought he was gonna explode.” Zaed laughs, and you turn to look at him. He’s still sporting a scar across his forehead, and it somehow makes his older features look slightly hardened. His face was still soft, something about him gesturing kindness, an observation you never made in the months you were locked away. “He told me you made them.”

“It took me weeks. I am not very… handy.” Smiling, you turn back to watch Sam and Nikolai screaming and laughing as they chase each other with Nerf guns. “I am sorry for what happened with the case.”

“So am I. If he’d gone away, you wouldn’t have to stay in Witness Protection.” He nods, turning away for a second only to return and offer you a can of something. “What is it?”

“It’s Russian. You’ll like it— it’s strong.” You crack it open and take a long drink, hoping to drown the rising anxiety that kneads the back of your mind at the thought of what Frank was doing right now. “We don’t mind it so much here.”

“Florida?” He nods.

“We want to stay. Corinne thinks the children— with what they’ve been through, shouldn’t move too much. They seem happy here.” You hum in agreement, listening to the light squeals of the youngest girl, who’s name you haven’t learnt yet, who’s got the biggest Nerf gun of all and is shooting the shit out of both boys. “It was my idea. To offer to take him in. If you are upset, please lay the blame with me—“

“Upset? God, why would I ever be upset?” He blinks in surprise, looking to you.

“You are here with him, and yet you still seem far away. I figured the suggestion was weighing on you. We only offer because… well, we have all grown quite fond of him, and for you— to you we owe our lives. I thought if we could make any of this easier…” You shake your head, finishing the bitter liquid in the can.

“You looking after Sam is about one of two good things I have going right now.” Zaed seems to relax, leaning forward onto the railing as you both stare out to watch the kids. “I think he’s happy here.”

“He is. He misses you, but he is happy.”

“And safe.”

“Of course. I pity anyone who would try to get past Corinne now.” You laugh at the tinge of genuine anxiety in his voice, as if he imagines it, but his eyes are full of admiration.

“I want to talk to him about it… make sure he’s okay, but if he wants to, I think him staying here would be the best thing for him.” Zaed doesn’t answer right away, just lets the echoed laughter of the kids fill both of your ears before he nods simply.

“He will be safe. And I am sure you will learn to love Florida, too, with how much you will visit?”

“What?” Again, a look of surprise crosses his face.

“Sam did not show you the spare room? We have cleared a space for you— whenever you need it. You… it is the least I could do. You saved my life—“

“Hardly.”

“I owe you it. My families life. My own. Whatever you should need here, the door would be open to you.” You have to look away, because it’s too much, and you don’t know when you became so soft that shit like this made you tear up.

“You don’t owe me anything. You keeping Sam safe is everything I ever wanted. I think we’re even now.” You laugh, your throat suddenly feeling a little tight.

“I couldn’t help but notice you arrived alone.” He questions, and you hide your face, unsure if the way you chew on your bottom lip gives too much away.

“Yeah.” No amount of alcohol could drown out the thought of Frank. You hadn’t heard from him in a day. Zaed looks at you, his eyes crinkling as he assess you.

“I thought he was going to drown with you that night. When he saw you go into the water… I recognise that look in a man’s eyes.” It seems so long ago now, and your hand instinctively goes to your stomach, where Frank sewed you up the first time. “He is coming soon, I assume? I doubt he would let you get too far from him right now.”

“Yeah, he’s…” You trust Zaed— but there’s only one person who takes precedent over the people taking care of your brother. “He’s just finishing up some stuff with the case in New York. He should be on his way now.”

“Ah.” He says, his eyes lingering on you in question. You say nothing, just sink a little more of the can. “Well, when he kills the ублюдок, I hope he makes it last.”

Before you can recover and wipe the shock off your face long enough to ask him how the hell he guessed what Frank is doing, Sam and Nikolai are in front of you, and Zaed disappears back into the house.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Frank grunts, a loud nearly animalistic sound vibrating off the walls as he clears the 23rd floor. Every time he breathes out, blood sprays out of his mouth. He can’t tell if it’s his own or he’s just covered in so much that it’s dripping off him. Either way he can’t help it, chest burning for oxygen after he laid the lower floors to absolute waste.

He’d ditched the assault rifle somewhere between the 18th and 19th floors, not even bothering to pull out his pistol. No— he’d fought every single one of them with his bare hands, and anything he could find scattered between dead bodies.

His right hand was fucked, and he’s pretty sure he got shot. Somewhere on the right side of his body, there’s a shooting pain between his thigh and his ribs, but it’s not enough to slow him down. He shoves his body weight into the penthouse door, throwing himself into guards he knows are ready and waiting for him. He reaches for his pistol, shooting three guys in the head before his eyes adjust to the dimmer lights in the room.

He hears them shouting orders, and he kills three more as he crosses the living room. One of them he puts through the TV screen, glass shattering under his hand as he crushes the man’s skull between the hard surface. The other two he shoots, and then moves towards the last four. All of them shield the door to the bedroom— putting their lives on the line for a man who doesn’t deserve the air he’s wasting.

Frank doesn’t have a moral compass when it comes to revenge. Not when it has to do with the people he loves. It’s why he clears the round of bullets in his gun on all four of them in less than thirty seconds, watching the lifeless bodies pile up in the doorway, there isn’t a single moment that he hesitates.

“Bobby!” Frank shouts, his voice horse and so loud he’s got no doubt the dead hear it.

He hears shuffling, and drops the pistol before stomping his way through into the bedroom. He sees Bobby, crawling across the floor in an attempt to reach for a gun dropped by one of the guards, but just as he goes to reach for it, Frank slams a bloody boot down on top of his hand, feeling the crush of bone under his weight.

“Fuck!” He shouts, and Frank smiles sickly, blood dripping from his teeth. “Get the fuck off me, you animal!”

Frank kicks him in the face, two of his teeth flying out and scattering across the carpet. As he rolls over, Frank grabs him by the collar and sits him up, watching his head lull to the side.

“Wake up.” Frank slams his fist into his skull. There was no way he was passing out this fast. Not after what he’s done. “Wake the fuck up.”

His hands shake with how hard he’s holding Bobby upright. So hard he feels the bone of his collar begin to give, and Frank chases the idea. Bobby thrashes, screaming as his eyes shoot open, the sound kicking Frank back into gear. He lets go of his shoulder long enough to pull back, only to drive his fist and crack the rest of his shoulder.

“Help m—“ Bobby tries to shout, but Frank shuts him off with another well placed shove of his weight into Bobby’s stomach, winding him. He wheezes, the pathetic sound something like music to Franks ears.

He punches him again— over and over. Not enough to kill him, though. No, Frank wasn’t done, he was just feeding the thrill. He’d been waiting too fucking long for this, and there was something satisfying about seeing this man— this weak excuse for a man being blinded by his own blood as he cries for someone to help him.

“Ain’t no one comin’ for you.” He growls, and grabs Bobby’s face so it hangs straight. His jaw is slack, but his eyes go wide when he feels the blade at his ribs. “You know that? That there ain’t a single person out there comin’ for you. No one gives a shit about you. You’re alone in here— your life in my hands.”

“Haaa—“ Bobby tries but whatever it is fades out into a scream when Frank slides the blade between his third and fourth rib. Slowly— real fucking slow. “They… they’ll come. Th-They’ll come f-for me.”

“No one’s comin’. Dead. All of ‘em. You’re alone.” He slides it a little deeper, watching the realisation wash over his face.

In truth, Frank wasn’t doing this for him. Sure, it felt fucking good, and Frank was enjoying the sight of the life draining out of his eyes, but he wants him to know why. Why he’s here, why he took out every last man in this building so he knew there was no hope. No one for him to go to.

He knew that’s what it was like for you. Frank couldn’t give you back those years, and he couldn’t take that much time with this— he’d thought about it, but he wanted this to end here and now. He could do this here, for you. Could make him know just how it feels to have all that power beat out of you, and know that there’s no one out there coming to save you.

“Stop…stop!” He wails, and Frank hits him harder. Every crack of his fist sends Bobby further into unconsciousness, and when he manages to stop himself, he shakes him awake again.

He gurgles on his own blood, dark red pools choking out of his mouth. His face is unrecognisable, already starting to blow up as he strangles in a few short breaths.

“I can… I have money. I can p—“ The effort of the words sprays another load of blood out of his mouth, and even though he’s exhausted, Frank laughs.

“You think I want money?” He leans down, yanking the knife out of his ribs and shoving it in again.

“Fuck! What do you—what do you want?!” Bobby wails again. Frank smiles.

“I want you to know that she’s the reason you’re dead. The last thing you’ll know is me— my face, and you’ll know it’s because you ended up just like you made her. Except she got out, and you never will.” Frank loses sense of time, his injuries starting to catch up with him as he yanks the knife out one more time, before slamming it home into Bobby’s skull.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I’m watching!” You shout as Sam lines up again, taking a few steps back before rushing forward and kicking the ball towards their make shift goal in the yard. You have to admit, for only been playing a few weeks, he’s got a hell of a kick on him.

“See! I’m getting better— my coach says next year I can try out for the first grade team if I keep training!” He’s smiling so big, and then he’s gone again, picking up the ball to take another shot at Nikolai who’s got goalkeeper gloves on, ready to catch it.

You’d be happy to watch this all day, but then Corinne calls out to you, telling you your phone is ringing, and you all but leap over the railing of the deck. When you race inside, you expect to see Franks name, and your heart sinks when you don’t. You knew he wouldn’t be able to call until it was over, but it’s been nearly two days since you’d heard anything. Then, you see it’s an unknown number calling, and your hands are shaking when you disappear into what is meant to be ‘your’ room to answer.

“Hello?” You recognise the voice instantly when she says your name. “Fucking hell, Karen. You scared me. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but are you?!” She nearly shouts, and you are still coming back to your mind with relief it wasn’t someone telling you Frank was dead. “I don’t even know how you did it, but I don’t want to. The way they found him… Jesus.”

“Wait. What? Karen, I’m in Florida.”

“What?”

“I’m with my brother in Florida. I came up here two days ago after the trial.” She goes quiet, and you can hear the commotion in the background. Remembering it’s a Tuesday, and that she must be at work, it only furthers your suspicions. “Who’s dead?”

“Bobby is. They found him. They found his body— but…”

“Karen, tell me.” All you need to hear is Frank wasn’t found. That he got out of there before anyone saw him. It would be your fault— all of it would be your fault if he was found. You needed to get back, you needed—

“Sorry. Sorry, I just thought… with everything that happened before, I thought it might of been you. Bobby’s dead, but… there’s nearly 50 men in the building with him. They’re all dead. And Bobby; he was hardly recognisable. It took them nearly 24 hours to identify him.”

“24 hours?” Frank needed to get out of New York as soon as he killed Bobby. If the police had been crawling around there for nearly a day… “Karen, I gotta go. Thank you for calling.”

You cut it off before she responds, and call the only number saved in your phone. It only rings twice before he answers, and you could nearly cry when you hear his voice.

“Stop fuckin’ ringin’ me, Murdock. I don’t know shit and I’m busy.” He grumbles through the phone, and you choke out something between a laugh and a sob. “Oh, fuck. Sorry— hey, sweetheart. Was just about to call you.”

“It’s… did the— job go okay?” You try to calm your voice as best you can, knowing that if anyone traces the call he’s done for.

“It took me longer than I thought. Had to get stitched up, then Curtis drove me halfway— passed out for most of it.” Before you can ask, he answers. “I’m fine, don’t do that.”

“You’re okay?” Relief floods your body, phone nearly slipping out of your hand with how hard you were gripping it. “Everything’s… everything’s okay?”

“Come see for yourself. I’m pulling up.” Like a kid on Christmas, you toss the phone and basically sprint to the front door, hearing an unfamiliar truck rumble down the isolated street.

He’s driving, clearly having ditched Curtis, but when he gets out he’s got a limp, and his hand is bandaged. You don’t run, instead you stand in the driveway and soak up the image— Frank; leaning against the door of the truck, sunglasses covering up what you have no doubt are black eyes. Alive. Favouring his left side and still with dried blood on his head, but fucking here.

“You’re hurt.” You say it when you finally reach him, but it sounds pathetic, closer to the tone you’d whimper his name in.

“Don’t worry about it.” He says huskily and reaches out, yanking you forward and slamming his mouth to yours.

The soft touch of his bandaged hand is opposite to the greedy grasp of his free one, the one wrapping around your back and fisting the material of your shirt, pressing so you were flush against him. Both of your hands cup his face, feeling the rough surface of his skin. You lose yourself in the taste of him as your fingers trace the patterns of scars peppering around his head— a constellation you’ve memorised a million times over, and yet it still feels as illuminating as the first.

He groans your name, sliding his hand up to grip your jaw, thumb tugging on your bottom lip. You lean back slightly, staying at close to him as possible. His eyes look you up and down, and there’s a glint in his eye; a hunger that never seems to be satiated when he looks at you. He’s still feverish for it, and it makes your toes curl in your shoes.

“Fuckin’ missed you.” He mumbles against your lips, and it makes you smile against his.

“I can tell.” His other hand forgets it’s injury as he searches your body, gripping your hips and pressing you closer.

“Get Sam. Let’s go home.” He tucks his head lower, mouth kissing under your jaw, and as much as you do want to get the fuck out of here with him, you pull away.

“He’s… he’s staying here.” Frank pushes the sunglasses off his face, looking at you through what is actually only one bruised eye.

“Staying?” You nod. “You sure?”

“I talked to him about it. He fucking loves it here, Frank. He didn’t want me to go again, but you should of seen him with them. They treat him like their own, and he adores them. It’s so much better than anything I could of thought.” Frank wraps his arms around your back and hugs you right, and your eyes flutter closed. “And you can’t just leave. They’re expecting you to come in and say hi.”

“Why?” The way he says it makes you laugh, as if you’d just asked him to drink gasoline.

“Come on.” You tug him by the wrists, and even though he groans and leans on you up the driveway, you both stagger inside and follow the sounds of Sam’s laughter, leaving everything else behind.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“They were being nice.” You haven’t wiped the smile off your face since you slid into the passenger seat this morning. “Well, I slept great. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“Mhmm.” Frank grumbles, clearing having a much worse sleep than you did.

It was sweet, and truely, you wanted to take them up on it. When Frank dragged himself through the front door of where Sam had been staying, everyone had nearly jumped on him. Sam couldn’t contain himself, clearly trying to play it cool but simultaneously thinking Frank was the coolest person he’d ever met. It was sweet, the way Frank was with the kids, the sight making you both smile and want to cry.

Either way, when Corinne and Zaed had offered for you both to stay the night, Frank agreed and all but dragged you down the hallway after dinner. The spare room was nice— set up clearly for two people, and you were only human.

It would have been perfect— had the room not been sharing a wall with your brother and his new best friend. A very fucking thin wall. One that was nearly vibrating with how loud they screamed every five minutes playing some game on the TV. The louder they were, the more it became apparent that neither of you would be getting a lot of sleep, and not in the good way.

Having Frank that close all night but not being able to do anything about it reminded you of the start of this whole thing. How you shared a bed with him but had to force yourself to keep your hands to yourself. It was borderline painful, but eventually you managed to drift off to sleep, not missing how hard Franks hands were gripping your hips like he had to physically cement himself to stop from fucking you through the bed.

When you woke up, Frank had all your shit shoved in the car, and was outside cooking pancakes with Sam. You took your time saying goodbye— making sure to thank both Corinne and Zaed properly, and then promising you’ll be back. Soon. ‘So soon you won’t even have time to miss me’ you’d promised Sam, and he grinned and hugged you before disappearing to get ready for school.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Frank looked to you before shifting in his seat, one of his hands resting on your thigh and squeezing.

“Got a stop to make before getting back to New York.” You’d been driving for a while now— about half way between New York and where you’d left Sam. You turned in your seat, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Don’t be cryptic.” You try to sound assertive, but you can’t seem to hold any resentment when you could feel the warmth of him palm on your thigh.

“It’s close, alright? Promise.” The words eased something in your chest, the same way his smile did when he looked at you.

A small silence drifted between you as a Billy Joel song hummed softly on the radio, and your head dropped, eyes tracing over the bruises left on his knuckles. Your fingers dance around them, careful to keep your touches light. You follow the lines of black and blue up over his wrist, watching them disappear under the arm of his jumper. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and when you push up the sleeve just slightly, you swear loudly.

“Fucking hell! Is this broken?” You pull the sleeve up higher, and you tighten your grip on his wrist when he goes to pull away. If you hadn’t watched him so closely, you would of missed the way he winced, and you let go immediately. “Sorry. Sorry— fuck, Frank. Is this all from—“

“I’m fine. Just a couple scratches.” He says, keeping his blackened eyes trained on the road. It would of been easy to miss— not seeing him without clothes since he’d come back. Bile rises in your throat at the thought he was hurt because of you— because he was doing this for you. Suffering for you. Like he has the entire time.

“Are you lying?” He shakes his head, and you lightly poke him in the side. He hissed loudly, flinching away from you and swerving the car. “Pull over.”

“I’m not pulling over.” Frank groans.

“You’ve been driving for hours, just—“

“It’s fine. We only got a few more miles till—“

“Please.” There must have been something in your voice, some kind of soft vulnerability that even he isn’t used to hearing, and then the car is pulling off the side of an empty highway, dusk rolling over the hood of the truck.

You reach out, pulling the sunglasses off his face to reveal him slowly. This part you’ve seen, but it still knocks the wind out of you. The cut along his cheekbone, not deep enough to need stitches but you know it will scar over. His right eye is a deep purple, the left nearly green. You go to draw your fingers over his face, but hesitate, worried you’ll hurt him. He sees you pulling back and catches your wrist, placing your palm between his cheek and his own hand.

“Don’t do that.” You choke out a laugh, smoothing your hand over and back into his slightly longer hair, pulling him closer over the console of the car.

“I’m not doing anything.” You say softly, something guilty in your voice. When he hears it, he shakes his head at you.

“Can read you like a book. You got nothin’ to do with this, alright?”

“I have nothing to do with it?” You want to laugh. “I’m the reason you were there. The reason all this happened.”

“I would of been in the same place with or without you. This part?” He gestures to himself, his torso that you know all too well is littered with scars. “This isn’t a part you blame yourself for.”

“But it is. My fault.” He opens his mouth but you talk first. “All of this… watching those kids today, watching Sam— all I ever did was put him in danger. And you. It’s better for him to be there, away from all this. Away from me. Maybe now all this is over, it would be better…safer, if you—“

“Stop. I don’t wanna hear that shit. You know how selfish you sound?” You blink a few times, eyes meeting his. At some point he’s leaned even closer, and you can feel the heat of his body thawing you out. “You’re right— I wouldn’t of gone back to New York the past two days if it wasn’t for you. You know why?”

“Listen—“

“No. I wouldn’t of gone back because I would of killed that asshole six months ago and been home in time for dinner. I’ve been doin’ this a long time, and there’s nothin’ you could of done that would of changed how this ended.” He holds your face up to his, rough hands holding you as gently as they could, and his thumb traces the scar just above your eyebrow. “Sam is safe with them, but don’t think for one fuckin’ second he’s better off without you. God knows I’m not. You’ve done nothin’ but good for that kid, and I’d… fucking hell. I’d be dead without you, you know that?”

“No you wouldn’t.” Your voice was so soft it hardly broke the silence, but he leaned in, his forehead pressing to yours. “You could probably jump out of a building and walk it off.”

“Maybe. But now I gotta be careful nd’ come home to you, don’t I?” He smiles, and then kisses you and you forget where you are. Words die on your tongue and are replaced by the taste of him, mind freezing over when he touches you. He does it every time. Every time he manages to take your breath away with one whisper of your name, one swipe of his thumb over your mouth. It’s intoxicating and dependant, something you never thought you’d want, but it feels so good with him. His hands drop to your waist, their pull demanding and needy as he yanks you up and over the centre console and onto his lap.

“I’d do it again. All of it. Kill every single—“ You kiss him again, squeezing your eyes shut, and he groans as you shift on his lap. “Fuck, baby we should wait till…”

“Till when?” You say breathlessly, and despite his words his hands are already sneaking underneath your shirt, his cool hands meeting your feverish skin. You can hardly keep your eyes open, and your hips roll forward again, seeking him out. “I want you now, Frank.”

“Fuck it. Doesn’t matter.” He says and then crashes into you, your back nearly pressing against the dash with how quick he moves. Your gasp of surprise is lost in his mouth, and you can feel the sparks he makes in your chest crackling their way through you, toes curling in your shoes.

Your half bent backwards, legs in either side of his as he keeps your chest pressed to him, both arms wrapping around you to hold you steady. You tug at his shirt helplessly, getting it stuck around his arm and he smiles against your mouth, leaning back to look at you before whipping it over his head.

In the dark of the room last night you wouldn’t of seen it, but now the lights streaming in from the car window, and Franks torso is nearly a rainbow in it— blue, purple and green bruises all up his side, with a short but deep cut on the low right side of his abdomen. He’s taken the bandage off it too early, the stitches still healing, but you can tell it’s expert work. Much better than the botched job you did a month or so back, something he still bares the reminders for.

“Just… just a couple scratches, huh?” He grunts something illegible and hauls you back to him.

“Shut up.” He keeps you pressed close, not giving you a chance to say something back, but then his hands dip lower and you’re a goner.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Yeah. Fuck waiting.

He’s got you here— now, on top of him, and he can’t even fucking think of anything else. Your hands are being so gentle and cautious when he really couldn’t care less about the pain, but you do. You always do.

He wasn’t gonna waste another second, and seeing your eyes close the second he got your pants off and dipped his hands between your legs… it’s pretty much as close to heaven as he was going to get.

You fall forward, Frank catching you with one arm and pulling you close while the other continues slow, teasing circles just how he knows gets you all worked up. Your head tucks away into his neck, and he lets you hide for now, but when he’s got you home— real home, then he’ll be able to look at you as much as he god damn wants.

Your hips move against him, chasing his slow rhythm, and he feels your teeth scrape agains this neck, wordlessly rushing him along.

“You need me that bad?” He says lowly, and watches in awe the way his words wash over you and yank you closer to the edge. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t of left you so needy—“

“Fuckkk… right there—please.” Your voice was so high it cracks a little, and it fucking sets him on fire.

“Get my belt for me, baby.” He whispers, feigning a bit of self control as he watches you quickly fumble with the buckle. The slight brush of your hands could finish him then and there, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut to try and remember why he wanted to wait. He had just one more card to play— one that you’d seen him play a few times before, but he doesn’t think you expect it this time, and he needed some semblance of composure to remember it.

A real house, white picket fence and all, smack bang on halfway between New York and Florida. He couldn’t leave New York, not ever, but he had a new anchor now, one that deserved to have it all.

Frank planned to take you straight home. Make a ten hour drive and keep his hands to himself, but how the fuck could he when you were like this? Looking like you do, touching him so fucking sweet and soft and saying how much you missed every part of him— it was a dream come to life, and one of the few moments he’d let himself go in.

You shuffle as close as the seat allows, your now naked chest pressing against his. He dips his head, kissing your jaw, and he’s suddenly surrounded by you. Arms around his neck, warm and soft as your fingers thread in his hair, both of you moan at the feeling of him sliding into you. It’s white hot and nearly painful, how even with the way you’re dripping down your thighs, it still takes you a second to take him all the way. You wriggle your hips, trying to settle yourself and Frank nips at your neck, slowing your pace just slightly. He can hear you sigh, but you listen. You always fucking do.

“Shit— so fucking good. You can take it.” He hums and runs his hands over your skin. You lean into the touch, and when you sigh again he sinks your hips lower, a short punch of your name bursting from his chest when you slam yourself down. “Fuck. There you go.”

He’s a wreck underneath you, and your hands slither away from his hair to his face when you pull him up to kiss you. As much as he loves the feeling of your hips grinding down ever so slightly right now, it’s this part he loves the most. The slow intimacy of it— how he knows he can stay right here for the rest of the day and nothing will change. He can feel how much you love it, how much care you handle him with, and it cracks something old and hard in his gut.

You shudder as he lifts his hips, keeping your mouths together and kissing hungrily. He’d think you’d both been starved for a year the way you two act, but he’d admit it to anyone that asked that he was gone for you. He knows it well and true, in his chest and in the way you bounce in his lap, moaning into his mouth like he’s breathing air into your burning lungs.

“Fuck— fuck, I love you. I fucking… Jesus Christ, you’re so good. I love you.” He can’t shut himself up, and your breath gets faster. He knows you love it when he talks. “C’mon, baby. Let me see you— wanna feel you. I know you want to.”

“Slow… Frank, you’re gonna hurt yourself—“ You suck in a breath and squeeze your eyes shut. His hands stay tight on your hips, and he feels the pleasure buzz under his palms, your skin nearly alight with it on top of him. “Oh my god, don’t stop.”

He wraps his forearm around you and fucks you harder, any pain and injury burnt out by how tight you are around him, and how perfect you fit him. He’s close, so close that he’s hardly able to kiss you now. You both collide in a mess of tongues and sighs, and when he hears you croak out his name into his mouth, he knows you’re cumming for him.

He can’t hold himself back, chasing you into that high with blinding abandon. It hits him like a freight train, bowing him over you like he’s taken a hit, but it feels so good he can’t register that he isn’t breathing like this. He keeps kissing you until he’s sure he’s going to pass out, and only stops when you pull away, eyes darting to the highway where headlights slowly flicker on the horizon.

“Shit.” You say breathless, and you laugh. He can feel it, the sound shuddering through him from where he was still deep inside you, and your giggles soon turned to something less innocent when you heard Frank groan into your chest. “C’mon. Someone’ll see us.”

“Don’t move yet.” He puts his hands on your waist, fanning them out to reach as much of you as possible.

“Mhmm.” It’s like your body gives out at his request, slumping forward and moulding into him like you were made to fit this way. This was what he was talking about. The way you fit together— something that should be out of the question for him fits so right. “I love you, too.”

“Mhmm.” He copies and feels you smile against his skin. His hands trail up your spine, tracing the line of bones lightly to leave goosebumps in his wake. “What time is it?”

“Who gives a fuck?” You mumble, the words half muffled into his neck.

“I want you to see the house in the light, but you wanna go at it blind, be my guest.” It takes you a second, a scoff coming out of you before you sit up abruptly, making him groan again.

“House? What house? Another safe house.” Frank couldn’t keep a secret to save his life when it came to you.

“It’s a house. Twenty minute drive from here.”

“But New Yorks not—“

“I know. Good thing we got cars, yeah?” Your eyebrows are crossed together, and Franks thumb slips over the small scar he left on your face. The movement shifts your gaze to something softer, and he feels the brush of your eyelashes on his finger as you blink up at him.

“You did it on purpose. It’s right in the middle.” You say softly. “Jesus, Frank. You didn’t have to… I mean you—“

“Take a breath. I didn’t buy it. Was a gift from the US Goverment. One thing those guys are good for is their money. I just picked the spot.” He could nearly hear the rave of your heart, and you crushed yourself into him, words hushed and mumbled into his ear, but they melt him to the core all the same.

He’ll never get over hearing you say things like this to him. That you’re grateful for him, that he’s doing a good thing. It’s like nothing he did before you was ever good enough. There was always the next job, always the next group to track, but nothing would be enough. There wasn’t a light at the end of the tunnel for him. But here you were, telling him that he was the reason you were gonna be alright, and if he squints he can see it. The flicker of something hopeful, and if he holds onto you as tight as he can, he might just live to see it light him on fire.

“Did you say… you said twenty minutes from here. Why didn’t we just wait until—“

“Would’ve ruined the surprise.” You laugh again, and the feeling has him gripping you tighter. He leans closer to whisper in your ear, his voice low. “And I wanted to fuck you here and now. Don’t want there to be a single fuckin’ surface where I ain’t had you.”

“Better get driving then, Castle. Sounds like you got a job to do.” The glint in your eye nearly makes him drag you outside and bend you over the hood, but the kiss you give him after is sickeningly sweet, so much so that he lets you slide off him and back into the passenger seat without so much as a nip of his teeth. “Tha–”

“Wait. Wait til you see it.” Frank said, and something about the way he looked at you had you nodding simply, and watching the trees race by as he sped you home.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You were asleep on the balcony again, and Frank moved as slow as he could to let you stay that way.

In the two weeks you’d been here, he could count on one hand how many times you’d actually slept in the bed. There were no neighbours for miles, nothing interrupting the stretch of sky all the way to the hills. Even Frank had to admit it was a killer view.

He came inside, pouring himself a drink, and a strange pit in his stomach settled after the burning liquid soothed his throat. He can’t seem to kick that feeling when you’re asleep. When you were awake, next to him, there wasn’t anything else he could think about. But alone, walking around a house he owned, a life he might try and live staring him in the face, he felt guilty. There were parts of him he wouldn’t ever get back, but this wasn’t something he thought he’d ever have. Peace and quiet, time to himself. A woman he loved within eyesight, buried under blankets cause she was too stubborn to come inside when it got freezing. He couldn’t figure out why now, of all times, was the time to be thinking of Maria. The weight of the ring around his neck was like an anchor. He knew it was stuck on the bottom of the ocean, but he couldn’t find it in himself to let go. He would sit there, hand cut up and bleeding, holding on for dear fucking life if no one moved him, waiting until he drowned.

Your footsteps were soft, in a way that he knows you can’t help. You tread through the open double doors, and Frank would roll his eyes at the way he could hear your teeth chattering if he wasn’t so distracted.

“You should of woke me.” You say, voice muffled from the mess your head was buried under. He took a step toward you, pushing it back so he could see your eyes.

“It’s late.”

“Couldn’t tell.” He can hear the smirk in your voice.

“You finally frozen to death, smart-ass?” You grumble something in reply, and he catches a few curse words before you look at him again. It’s nearly scary, the way you can read him with one sweep of your eyes. You clock his tone, the way he isn’t leaning into you with his full weight, and squint your eyes.

“What is it?” Frank sucks in a long breath, and kisses you.

He’s a complete idiot. That’s what it is. He can feel the buzzing pulse you wake in him, every movement of your lips on his rooting you deeper in his soul, chipping off ice until theres only warmth. How’s he supposed to tell you, after you’ve just kissed him like that, that he was thinking about his–

“You can talk to me about her, Frank.” You say with your head against his. Not it, her. Before he can ask, you smile a little. Even just a hint of that smile and he’s forgetting how to breathe. “You play with the ring when you’re nervous. It’s actually a bit of a tell.”

“Yeah?” He manages, hands trying to search their way through the blankets for you.

“Yeah. You have a lot of tells. For someone in your line of work, it’s actually a bit worrying.”

“You got me all figured out.” He says and means it, but you just roll your eyes.

“And you lean to the left when you think you can’t make a shot. You think it helps your angle.”

“Who woulda thought you were so observant.”

“You know, I actually did watch you when you were teaching me how to shoot.” Frank smiles, your skin finally under his palms. His hands splay on your back, and you lean closer.

“You were trying to fuck me the whole time. Don’t blame me for being surprised.” You try to whack him but your arms are pinned under the layers. Your laughter carries through him, skittering into his chest until he can’t help but laugh too.

“You came onto me.” He laughs harder. “It was very unprofessional. I was there to learn.”

“Damn fucking right I did.” His voice is low, and you shuffle around under his hold until your hands snake up behind his neck. His hair is too long, but he hasn’t cut it just yet. He tells himself that he hasn’t had time, but truthfully he likes the way it feels when you sift your fingers through the ends of it. Like now.

“You can tell me.” You say again, softer. He’s softer too– more malleable now you were here.

“I can’t help it.” He looks over your shoulder, and you follow his gaze to where the sun is now just starting to rise. “She woulda… woulda liked it here. The kids, too.”

“You think so?” He nods, still staring into the orange sky.

“Probably would of had a lot to say about the inside, though.” You wrap around him tighter, head on his chest. “She was so good with those things. She loved when we painted our house. She had all these colors painted next to each other on the wall. All these different kinds of green. Everyone kept sayin’ it all looked the same but she... she could tell the difference. I could see what she meant when she put the couch next to it and shit, you know? She was real good with that stuff.”

“We could use her help around here. This place is sort of… ugly, on the inside.” He laughed again, his throat feeling tighter as he looked around. There was those same colour swatches, but none of them were coordinated like he was remembering. Pinks, blues, oranges and grays were all mixed together in big, sweeping strikes along the wall, stopping right above where your arm would be able to reach. “What would she have gone with?”

He looks down at you, your face washed in the light of the sunrise.

“The light orange. It looks good with the brown.” He nods over to the couch, an old leather one you’d made him pick up off the side of the road.

“We’ll do that one, then.” You tuck yourself under his chin, sighing.

“I think about ‘em everyday. What the kids would have looked like now. What they’d be doing. How Maria and I would of… raised ‘em. I was away all the time, but I just-”

“I think you would have been just fine.” You say into his chest, and Frank takes a shuddering breath.

“Why’s that?“

“Cause she was in love with you.” His chest tightens, and the grip he’s got on your waist gets a little tighter. “I’m… I’ll never be able to fix…that. It’ll always be with you, and nothing will change what happened, but I want you to know that they will always have a place here. You don’t have to apologize for talking about them– the kids, or Maria. I will never, ever not listen, and it will never be something I don’t want to hear. If they’re always with you, they’ll be with me, too.”

Frank takes two steps forward, and your feet pick up just in time to catch yourself before he throws you back on the couch. He’s never been good with words for things like this. He doesn’t think he should try to shove it all in a sentence, either. Not when theres so much he wants to say, but even more he wants to do.

You lay back, and he moves slowly. He wants you to know every move, every brush of his hand and his mouth is by design. He wants to know every square inch of you inside and out like you know him. He wants his hands to pull the strings, letting you hear all the things his mouth could never possibly form.

“Perfect.” Frank sighs against your mouth, over and over again. It was. You were. Are. The pit in his stomach disappears, pushed out and engulfed by the flames in his chest. There was no room for anything, not a single other feeling or word could possibly fit the way you two fit together. Your fingers tug at his shirt, and he takes it over his head. Your hands run and smooth gentle lines over his chest, over the healing wound on his side. It's jagged and wonky, and it nearly spelt your name. Frank thinks it’s the first time he’s looked down at himself and not hated to see the scars.

He unravels you like a gift to himself, savouring every moment even when you try to shrug off the blanket. You hadn’t dressed since last night, and Frank liked it even more this way. You sighed his name, and Frank shuddered, sealing his mouth over yours again. When his eyes opened for a split second, he could see your face, washed in orange light, and your hair swept to the side. He shut his eyes and kissed you again, the image seared into his mind forever.

Frank had faced a lot of bad things in his life. He had been shot, stabbed, pulled apart and put back together more times than he could remember. He thought he’d seen it all, felt it all before, but there was nothing like this. Nothing made him as weak as your fingers in his hair, and nothing made him as strong as the way you moaned his name. Nothing felt as good as sliding inside you, and nothing felt as empty as when you were gone. It made him lightheaded and brought him to the brink of consciousness, but he knew that this was right.

It could of been minutes or hours that had passed when he let himself go, but no amount of time with you under him would stop him from wanting more. The sun was up now, and Frank had you tucked to his side on the small space of the couch, legs tangled together in the blankets and each other. He felt you shiver against him, and the blankets wrapped around you had come loose. He bent to fix them, and when he moved you did it again.

He looked down, seeing the cold line of metal pressed against your bare back. The ring at the end was hanging over your ribs, and when Frank touched it, it was freezing. Holding it in his palm, it didn’t feel as heavy as it used to, and when he read the engraving on the back, he still felt cold.

Looking down at you, how you rolled over and sought him out even with your eyes closed, he leaned down to kiss the scar on your forehead. Then, like it was the simplest thing in the world, he slipped the necklace off over his head, and placed it in a neat circle on the coffee table next to his head.

They would always have a place here. But it wasn’t them who gave him warmth anymore.

When he tucked himself back under the covers, he knew it was you. It was always you.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

tag list

@stress--relief

@hellskitchens-whore

@blkwayne

@itwasthereaminuteago

@margoo0

@daisykins

@paryl

@urlocalgeek

@hello-lisa1026

@castlesnchurches

@superbreadsoul

@lemon-world1

@officalpetergriffin

@batcreep

@quackson03

@violetsandroses8

@turningtoclown

@yourfriendhenrywinter

@peaky-shelby

@hollandorks

@23victoria

@fluffysteampunkd

@andiforgetaboutyoulongenough

@avaluna

@alexa4040

@dripoftheseus

@lanagirly

@woowwwee

@chvoswxtch

@allthingsavenger-y

okay theres going to be an epilogue at some point, but it will probably be small and have very little plot, so this is the end of the main story. so, heres a little rant for you. if you read it, thank you, and if you dont, thank you anyways. knowing anyone is reading my words is a gift enough.

i think i have been writing this series for like 5/6 months ish?? thats fucking wild. i dont have an exact word count, but all i know is its fucking long. i cannot believe i wrote this much about a fictional character, but damn. that is a lot.

basically all i want to say here is thank you. to anyone who has read, interacted, or will read in the future, thank you from the bottom of my heart. it might be a lil dramatic but having people read stuff i write, let alone actually enjoy it makes me so incredibly happy. starting to write on here, and for frank especially, is probably one of the best decisions ive ever made. this series was a struggle to finish for so many reasons, mainly my incredible lack of planning and overall dumb writing schedule, but i have met so many incredible people along the way, and i am just so grateful to have a lil space to share my work.

frank castle will probably always own a giant spot in my heart, so thank you for letting me share my version of him. and letting me add as much smut as i want to this with no complaints bc i fuckin needed it okay!!!!!! i love you all. rant over. series over. damn!

p.s. i am never not going to write frank. dont worry. i already have an idea for my next series lmao!!!!!!!! luv ya!

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #marvel tv #the punisher x reader #the punisher x you #marvel #the punisher x y/n

182 notes · View notes

brambletakato · 2 months

Text

ok i havent drawn a lot so ill do a big artdump of some stuff i abandoned or at the very least wont finish for a long while (id in alt and story/thoughts below the image)

In a server that I'm in, we briefly talked about Descole hypothetically returning in NWOS and somebody mentioned he should bring Keats along. Inspiration struck and I drew this. I was hoping I could use Blender to make the buildings and whatnot, but I was intimidated by the task and ultimately ended up dropping the entire thing.

The building that Keats and Descole are on is… Meant to be a rough placeholder, I didn't mind redoing the entire thing but I wanted to at least have a vague idea before the entire draft slipped from my mind.

(More images in cut that are either old or kinda detached. also theres crossover stuff in there. be warned)

HAHA YOU CLICKED READ MORE NOW I CAN SHOW MY INSANITY. MWHAHAHA. MWHAHHAHAHAHAHA. ok so errm this is campaign des that i mentioned a few times and yes that is The Mario from The Paper Mario. I think about them so much and its a bit pathetic bc its like "you're overthinking a kid's mascot" ITS SO SILLY YOU DONT GET IT...

Oh right the doodle uhh so I was thinking about them and just drew a hypothetical scene for funsies, it didn't happen in roleplay (and also because I wanted to draw paper mario without a reference and see where that went). It's an ex-villain and struggling hero dynamic and i love it sm

Segments of a comic I drew for a friend in a super silly AU with dante from the limbus company hand on hip . Id get super embarrassed if i shared the details of the au because we kinda said "fuck it we ball" and made up stuff that shouldn't work at all lol. It's also why there's no text in the speech bubbles.

But the general gist of why I drew this is because we kept discussing a scenario where Descole has to fix up something in Dante's clockhead (vaguely inspired by that april fools episode) and i had a strong vision ab the comic. Also I had to make their head in blender because i was struggling with the perspective and wanted a flexible reference. First time drawing something not made out of flesh fur or fabric!! had a blast rendering the fire and the shine though. SUPER fun super recommend

I just like this little doodle,,, the expression vaguely reminds me of a ghibli villain and it scratches my brain. im expecting him to move on twos at 24 fps very subtly at any moment now.

And finally... um... yeah. "draw a character in this pose" sort of beat. sometimes I alternate using the sketchbook and marker pens in firealpaca and this is one of my rare marker doodles. Also this is pretty old afaik but i still think about it sometimes

happy sycamore sunday (even though hes not anywhere to be seen in these doodles)

#brambledrewagain #jean descole #campaign des

41 notes · View notes

wrinkledparchment · 1 year

Text

the absence of everything (iii)

Summary: Based on 1x22 | 2x1 - After your trip to Vegas was rudely interrupted by a suspicious manila envelope being delivered to your hotel room, you and Spencer have to cut your vacation short to go back to Quantico. Although you and Spencer try to resume your professional relationship after sharing a bed, Spencer realizes just how much you mean to him, and can finally put a name on what he feels, once and for all.

Word Count: 6,030 words

Author’s Note: So... I’ve been gone for so long but this series is probably the main thing I still receive praise for in my notes. I’m currently focusing more on writing for HL but I’ve had this in my drafts forever and I decided to feed you guys!! I hope you like it... upon rereading it, some of my favorite fluffy lines I’ve ever written are in here. How did I manage that.

Content Warnings: Your general criminal minds ish, death, stuff like that. Some fluff content for you guys!!

Series Taglist: @liviasaugusta @l0ve-0f-my-life @imsuperawkward @nxstalgicnxbxdy @marciscaspar @april-14-blog @sweetreid @essenceproxima @sammypotato67 @idkanymore-05 @slep-slop @squirrellover1967 @irjuejjsaa @yomama-umbridge @holybatflapexpert @rosignoelle @ladyravenclaw @yours-truly-r @spenciepoo338 @masieofthevalley @throughparisallthroughrome @afuckingshituniverse @ladyravenclaw @irjuejjsaa @danandphilfan6 @yasminwashere @mayempress @kys-things

the abscence of everything: i | ii | . . .

“It is me. I am his madness. For years he’s been looking for something to put his madness into. And he found me.” – John Fowles, The Collector

. . .

The coffee table in your Vegas hotel room had cluttered manila envelopes, the key and note given to Spencer, and a piece of missing evidence from your father’s murder scene. Rage bubbled in your stomach, so as Spencer called Gideon on the hotel room phone, quickly putting it on speaker, you paced around, unable to stop seeing your dad’s case files and his dead, mutilated body over and over again.

“Gideon, [Name] and I both got a package, I got a key and a note reading ‘She will die unless you save her, Doctor Reid. Call Gideon. He knows.’ She got two binded pieces of paper from a book her father was binding and repairing when he died.”

Gideon finally let out a sigh, “Yeah, I got a Nellie Fox baseball card from 1963 and a head in a box. Everyone on the team got something, but Elle was hit hard. She was framed for murder in Montego Bay, Hotch and Morgan went down to get her released and bring her back to Quantico.”

You walked closer to the phone and stopped chewing on your nails, rage bubbling inside your chest. “Gideon, whoever the hell this was had access to missing evidence from my father’s murder investigation. Meaning, this son of a bitch is the guy who robbed and killed my father. This is personal.”

“Don’t worry, [Name]. We’re going to find him. Get on the closest flight back here and Garcia will tell you where we are, we’re going to get this guy as soon as we can.” Right after he finished, Gideon hung up, leaving you and Spencer to race to get to the airport in time.

You left your rental car at the airport kiosk, signing it out and rushing after Spencer to get on the flight back home. It was all a blur, blended together to create your perfect disaster. You were stressed, overworked, and ill-prepared. This was the case you’d joined for—to find your father’s murderer and lock the bastard up.

You’d searched and searched and searched, and the criminal found you. Just as you’d eased out of work mode, just as something besides work and murder and blood filled your mind, he stole you away. Because of course he did. Because he was looking.

Spencer was a mess, but not for the same reason. You were obviously under duress, but you were so scattered that he felt like he couldn’t do anything. He did his best, carrying your bags for you, getting you iced chai while waiting for boarding. When you did get on the plane, he immediately lifted the armrest between you back, and pulling out Dante’ Inferno, handing his leather-bound copy over to you.

Your fingers ran over the spine of the book, feeling the indents where the title was, the smooth texture everywhere else. Fine craftsmanship, it must’ve been from a passionate, talented individual bookstore owner with a knowledge of binding. It reminded you of yourself, the care and attention devoted in the craft.

“You’ve got a fine copy here, Spence,” you smiled, as much as you could. “My dad would’ve loved it.”

“Do you think you can still bind books well?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

“I’ll never forget.”

He nodded, smiling something bittersweet, “We’ll find your dad’s old book. And you’re going to fix it.” You smiled again, a little more genuine, and flicked open Spencer’s copy of Dante’s Inferno.

“I’ve got supplies in a closet somewhere,” you recalled, voice soft and quiet in case it suddenly broke. You didn’t want to cry, and you shouldn’t, not here, but it was becoming harder to not be vulnerable with Spencer. “I dream about him every night.”

Reid nods, moving his hand to rest on your knee, moving his thumb gently, allowing you to continue. “I’ve been waiting for a lead, since before I was even in the FBI academy. I’ve been waiting for 8 years and now that I’ve finally got it… just when I was happy, too.” You pause for a minute, letting one tear roll down your face but holding the rest in. “I see his body everywhere I go, can’t stop remembering how the blood felt on my hands, how lifeless he looked. I miss him, even after all this time, and now that I’ve finally got a chance to figure out who did it, I don’t want to.”

Spencer pulled you closer, looking out the small window to see the bright blue sky and all the clouds. Your breathing was still erratic, your heart still broken. And he hated how in the moment you needed him most, he couldn’t figure out what to say. “I’m here,” he murmured, over and over again until he was sure you knew what he meant.

. . .

Even though Garcia’s explanation was rushed, you vaguely understood what was happening. She refused to look you in the eye, too, possibly because Gideon had told the team about what you’d found and how it was connected to you personally. It didn’t matter though, because you’d just pulled up to a possible unsub’s apartment.

The alleyway in which all the cars were parked was also crowded by other FBI members, all unguarded, meaning the unsub wasn’t there. The local police, and an extra car were also there, you assumed some sort of medical examiner, and there was probably a body.

You and Reid were authorized to enter after flashing your badges, and neither of you were asked to put on vests. Walking in, the both of you grabbed gloves, Spencer just holding them while you slid them on and followed him over to the crime scene.

It wasn’t overly graphic, compared to other things you’ve seen, but it was traditional to become emotionally numb in the job. No matter what, someone had died here, an ‘unrepentant bad man’ or not. The bed, and with it, the man named Frank Giles, was lying in the center of the room, a sword plunged into his chest and sticking upright.

Elle, Hotch, Morgan and Gideon all stood in the room, Hotch reading something written on the sword out loud to the rest of the team. “To learn of what should next be done, leave the blade til’ the hour be none.”

Spencer stepped closer, watching as Hotch asked Elle to step back. “The bed’s in the middle of the room,” Hotch began, Morgan interrupting for a second, “And maybe the light from here casts a shadow and points to something.”

Derek quickly began explaining his theory, “Well midnight is 00:00 hours in 24-hour time. Would that be none?” Hotch dismissed this quickly, stating that there would be no shadow at midnight, until Reid finally spoke up.

“3pm.” Everyone turned to him first, then you, then back to him. Obviously, Gideon did tell everyone that this was connected to your father’s death. And surprisingly, you looked very calm for someone about to embark on their quite literal personal case, the one you’d joined for. “Hey guys, Garcia told us where to find you.”

Hotch nodded at you, barely acknowledging how personal of a situation this was for you, but quickly dismissed it, listening to Spencer talk about medieval terms for hours of the day, then asking for lighting equipment so he could replicate the 3pm sun.

While people walked in and out with various standing lights, Gideon finally walked up to you. You turned to him, offering a quick nod and smile before quickly dropping it when he mentioned your dad. “You know you can’t let your past affect this case,” he states, and you nod. “It’s obviously personal, and I know this person is targeting you, but you can’t allow yourself to make mistakes because of your past with the unsub.”

Sighing, you agreed with Gideon, instead moving next to the shadow as Reid adjusted it, and you knocked on the wall until you heard a hollow sound, ripping away the wallpaper without need for Hotch’s command. Underneath all the wallpaper was a box, and you immediately grabbed it.

Reid stopped you, “Are we sure it’s safe?”

Hotch quickly dismissed him and allowed you to examine it. You played with the lock for only a few seconds before looking back up at Reid. “Give me the key.” Without hesitation, he handed it over and you shoved it in, and to nobody’s surprise, it fit perfectly. You lifted the lid, and familiar music had began to play, one that Reid had played for you during the classical music quiz.

“Forellenquintett,” you and Reid murmured in unison, the rest of the team looking up at each other before shrugging it off. Reid reached inside to grab the note from the music box, reading it out loud to the rest of the team.

Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man’s sight.

Elle scoffed, walking off, “Well, that was worth it.”

Gideon ignored her, speaking right afterwards. “The lid. Little tab right under the lock.”

You quickly fiddled with it, revealing a CD and a lock of hair that nearly perfectly matched yours. You hummed under your breath in disapproval and disgust, Derek and Elle working together to put the lock of hair in an evidence back and grab the CD for review.

After heading back to the table room, you and Reid sat next to each other, which was your usual spot. For some reason the team seemed to eye the both of you, suspicious about what had happened in Vegas and why you two were still together when you should’ve left before that.

You carefully watched the TV after someone slid in the CD. A dimly lit desk with cluttered items all around it, and a very large throne behind it. A man wobbled into frame, clearly injured by something, which the team noted.

“I assure you, you’ll all understand in the end why it must be this way. You might even thank me. You know now you’re on a quest; a young girl’s life depends on the successful completion of it. As you can see, she’s quite beautiful . . . and in distress.”

You clenched your fists when you saw the girl come into frame, screaming at the camera, begging for something. You wondered if everyone on the team recognized just how much, even from the little they all saw, how she looked like you.

“Now please listen closely for there is one rule, and this rule must be followed. The one rule is only the members of your team may participate in the quest.” He began to list your names, and displayed pictures of each of you in the video, you and Reid in the same frame taken during one of the previous cases. “A quest must be completed in a proper way, or it isn’t a quest, is it? That’s it. One rule. Simple.

“Now, you will be receiving an item soon that will hold the final clue you’ll need to finish the quest. You will find you also need a book which has inspired many an adventure like mine. Believe me when I tell you, I truly hope to see you all soon. It will mean a successful end to this adventure for all of us, but especially [Name].”

With that, the clip was over and all that was left was static. Reid had tensed after he’d mentioned you by name, and it didn’t fly over the heads of any of your coworkers either. The unsub knows you so well, doesn’t he? Pictures of you and Reid together, knowledge of just how to tick you off, and additionally, he knows what happened to your father the last night he was alive and is plunging that knife of knowledge right into your heart and twisting it. Involving all your coworkers in it, making it clear that all of this, it’s all for you.

You were the subject of madness, the main target of all of this. You were the ‘protagonist’, he was the villain, and everyone else—the dead, your coworkers, the girl he’d kidnapped—were all side characters in the story. But Reid, standing right next to you in the picture while everyone else was photographed individually, that said something to you. He knew about whatever was happening between the two of you, so much so that it was terrifying because he probably knew better than either of you.

Suddenly, the team was active. “This guy’s got pictures of us?” Elle exclaims.

Reid fiddled with the pen in his hand, “What do we do now?”

Hotch eyed you, noting how tense you seemed when only just minutes ago, even with a dead body in front of you, you were eerily calm. “The lock of hair’s being analyzed for DNA. There might be something on file.” JJ walked out, vowing to figure out who the girl is. Hotch nodded, “Let’s get the clues up on the board. Maybe we can make some sense of something.”

Elle immediately objected, “Wait, we’re going to play this guy’s game?”

Reid sighed, glancing at you for a few moments, “Do we have a choice?”

Everybody stayed silent, Spencer’s words lingering in the air while Gideon and Hotch went to a different room. You began quietly pinning the clues in the evidence bags to the board, not saying a single word to anybody else in the room. Elle found the soft crumple of the evidence bags relaxing, eyes closing softly until Hotch interrupted her nap and sent Anderson to take her home.

Soon enough, yet another piece of evidence, a list of number sets in a strict pattern, though it may not seem like it without a keen eye. Just as Spencer opened his mouth, you beat him to the punch. “Sets of numbers, page number, line number, word number. It’s a cipher based on a book which he expects us to know.”

Derek stares back at you, Spencer’s mouth opening and closing like a fish. Sure, you were quicker sometimes than he was, but you seemed so rigid, it was odd to them. “Yeah but what book?”

“Well, this ‘quest’ is clearly meant to be personal to you, [Name],” Derek proposed, “Meaning this is a book he expects you to know.” Spencer sighed, walking over to grab the ripped pages the unsub had sent you and examines them, reading the words hoping he’d remember reading this book at some point but he doesn’t.

“Dante’s Inferno?” Reid questioned, even though he obviously knew it wasn’t.

“Both of us would recognize it. Whatever book my dad was fixing that night, it was that book. Specifically, a first edition. Let’s see… that was eight years ago. Do you think memory recall would work?”

Elle and Derek simply stood off to the side while you and Reid debated each other, glancing at each other occasionally. Yet, the body language was the same as it always was, and maybe what had changed was the way Elle and Derek read the situation.

“When you got there, the book was gone; how would you know which one he was supposed to be working on?” Spencer rebutted.

“I was closing, I must’ve—” you stammered, “I must’ve known what book he was working on, I have to!” Soon, you were pacing around the room, muttering things underneath your breath and attempting to retrace your steps from 8 years ago that also occurred across the country.

Derek set his hands on your shoulders, holding you in place and stopping your pacing. “Okay, [Name], calm down, we can always try memory recall, and if not, the clues should be in the evidence—this guy is meticulous, I’m sure he’s accounted for this.”

Suddenly, Gideon walked back into the room, looking at the four of you. Spencer was still staring at the evidence board, Hotch leaning back in his chair, and Derek and you standing in the middle of the room. “[Name], you don’t have to relive that memory if it’s not necessary. How would we proceed if we didn’t have all these clues? What’s the first thing we’d look at?”

“Victimology,” you swallowed, both thankful and displeased that Gideon was looking out for your wellbeing. Everybody was watching you so closely, especially because this was a personal case to you, as if they expected you to break down at any moment.

“And we have a victim, Rebecca Bryant. Hotch and I will follow the mailman lead. Derek, take JJ and find out everything you can about Rebecca. Reid, [Name], stay here and find the book. If anybody can do it, it’s you two.”

Everyone else left the room, Reid and you staying. Sure, Gideon didn’t want you to relive the worst moments of your entire life, but you were so close. So you shut the door to the roundtable room and turned back to Reid. “I want to do memory recall.”

. . .

The chair you were sitting on was soft and sturdy, so you let yourself lean back, and you closed your eyes. You breathed, waiting for Reid to begin. You tried to calm yourself, enough to the point where your anger flooded away and all you could do was think. See your memories in a clear light.

“I’m going to try and calm down first, can you guide me?”

Spencer nodded, breathing along with you. “What is your favorite memory?”

You focused in on the word, smiling; favorite. You could hear Spencer’s giddy laugh echoing in your ears, bright city lights clouding your vision. The hood of your black rental car from Vegas reflected them, the smaller model of the Eiffel tower standing tall, neon signs and main strip casino windows. The cool, night breeze in your hair. You could still feel Reid’s lingering presence in the passenger’s seat, the way he looked at you with those doe-y, hazel eyes. His pupils were inflated, shrinking again when he turned away to change the stereo.

You could feel the pain in your toe when you stubbed it on the hotel bedframe, you could feel the newly replaced bedsheets of the hotel against your legs, and you could see Spencer standing over you, smiling so widely when you laughed. The way his warm skin felt against yours, how gentle he was with his arms around you.

You imagined the pool water as he splashed it back at you, the water droplets against his skin and the way he slicked back his wet hair. His laugh and shy smile after you told him he still looked like a rat when he was wet. The understanding look when he listened to your struggles with the BAU, your life story, the interest in your past and your hobbies.

After all the memories you’d made yesterday had flashed through your head in a matter of seconds, you registered what it meant. When you thought of happy, you thought of him. Some of your favorite moments in life were with him, being around him, watching him. Him, him, him. This feeling—it was consuming you, and it felt so delightful. You wanted it to devour you, and you let it.

“Yesterday,” you whispered after a minute of reliving the best day of your life. You didn’t open your eyes, but you could hear Reid shift in his chair and you smiled, assuming he was blushing. Profiler or not, he knew what that meant.

He sighed, “Are you ready to go back?” You nodded. “It was eight years ago. How old were you?”

“I was sixteen, and about to graduate high school.” You still remember how frustrated and overwhelmed you were. The night before you discovered your dad, you had the closing shift along with a massive pile of homework and colleges to apply to. You sat behind the wooden counter, combing through your homework as fast as you could, eager for your father to come and take an overnight shift in working with the books.

“What time was it?”

“It was five minutes until the clock struck 11,” you said, which was the beginning of your father’s shift at the bookstore. You were packing up your homework and college applications back into your bookbag, noting on a stray piece of paper all the leftover homework and applications you had to pour over in the morning. You were so tired, but you wanted to thank your father for taking the shift tonight and letting you rest.

“My father is coming in,” you tell Spencer, reliving the last moment you saw him alive. The door rang, signaling his entrance. His hair and shoulders were wet from the rain outside, something you didn’t remember about the scene until now. He smiled, asking you how your day went.

“Okay, sweetpea,” he had begun, “are you ready to go home?” You nodded to him, but not before helping him with his bags. He looked at you, smiling while you followed him down to the book storage, an icy cold basement.

You watched, setting out his materials for him while he brought out the book, which was partially bound but tattered still, especially the cover, and you had to take a double take, pausing and hearing Reid’s voice. You weren’t listening, but rather going through the evidence in your head.

JJ’s butterfly, Reid’s key, and a lock of hair all on top of a piece of bloodied parchment. You could see the dainty, cursive letters, shocked as to how you’d not remember the cover when you worked at a bookstore. You gasped, nearly crying as you remembered the last thing you’d seen your father doing alive.

You tried to shake it all out of your head, the unsub wanted to get to you. This quest was curated for you and him, a chess game, and you needed to have a level head to win. Sitting straight up, your eyes shot open and you and Reid shared a glance, him smiling proudly. You handled yourself so well.

“The Collector, by John Fawkes,” you stated, rushing over to the board where all the evidence was pinned. You took off the butterfly, the lock of hair, the key and the bloodied paper and set them in front of Reid.

“These are all on the first edition front cover, a bloodied piece of paper as a background, the key, the lock of hair and the butterfly all on top. Not only do they have a personal significance to us, but to the book. I should’ve known sooner,” you berated yourself, explaining quickly before walking off, ready to call the nearest library for their first edition copy of The Collector.

. . .

Reid, Garcia, and you had all stood around, them solving the cipher and writing the message on the board. Elle had been sent home earlier, so you were a team member short, but you were closer than you’d ever been on solving your dad’s murder. So close you could almost imagine him, smiling down at you and telling you that you were doing a good job. That’s all the encouragement you needed.

Hotch had berated Anderson for only dropping Elle off rather than staying at her house, stating that the unsub had all of your personal information. You begged Hotch to let you go to her house and stay, but he said he had needed you too much because of your connection to the case.

Instead, you watched as Reid and Garcia went over the cipher with the librarian. You walked away from the team when Hotch called you. “Yes sir?”

“Elle was shot at her house, I’m at the hospital now, I need you and Reid to keep working on those clues. I’ll update you when she’s out of surgery.”

Your stomach twisted, wondering why in all hell the unsub took Elle. This was your quest, the team were all there to aid you. Why would he hurt Elle instead of you? Instead of your family or someone you were close to? You nearly cried out as you broke into tears—this team, the BAU, is your family. And you’ve brought all of them into danger just by being here.

When you walked back into the room, you’d discovered that Reid had called his mom to be flown into Quantico by the federal agents there, and that you’d be meeting his mom for the first time. She was involved in this case now too, and you wondered if you should stick around after this. If all of this, if Elle’s shooting was your fault.

. . .

You leaned against Reid’s desk as he fiddled with the evidence bag that the poem was in. “Your mom’s safe,” you said, “agents just picked her up and she’s flying over here now. Garcia told me.”

Reid didn’t even dare to meet your gaze, staring at the poem still. “I forgot she always used to read me this poem,” he started. “And I realized that nobody knows things like the fact that JJ collects butterflies except for me. People tell me their secrets all the time, and I think it’s because they know I don’t have anyone to betray them to… except for my mother. I tell her pretty much everything in my letters. Did you know that I write her everyday?”

You smiled, leaning forward, “I did, Reid. And I know that you feel guilty about not seeing her two days ago. That you write all of those letters to make up for the fact that you think you don’t visit her enough.”

He looked up at you, a clear question in his eyes. How do you know?

“Reid, during my memory recall, when you asked what my favorite memory was… I’ve been alive for twenty-four years, and out of any memory—the ones with my best friend, the good days here, my childhood—I chose Las Vegas. Not because of the beautiful city lights, or the fancy car, but because you were there with me, just us.

“I told you about my father not because you don’t have anyone to betray me to, but because I want you to know. Because I trust you whole-heartedly, and if anybody in this world should know me best, it’s you.”

Spencer finally held his eye contact with you, swallowing hard. You let your words hang in the air before putting your hand on his shoulder and squeezing, allowing it to linger there for a few seconds before walking back to Garcia’s lair, wanting to soak up all the information she might have.

You heard the signature ‘beep’ of Garcia hanging up on someone, and shut her door gently before striding over to her desk. “What’s going on so far?”

She didn’t lift up her eyes to look at you, typing furiously on her computer, “I’m searching for Rebecca Bryant’s biological family, turns out she was adopted by the Bryant family and her real last name is Garner.”

Penelope filled you in further on the details, actively working to unseal her adoption papers and find out what happened to the original family; after all, the victimology is the first thing you look at.

Could you consider yourself a victim? He’d been taunting and tormenting you and your entire team, he was most likely the man who had killed your father, or at least knew what happened or was involved somehow. Your father had been murdered prior to Rebecca’s disappearance, and you considered why this man would have been involved with your father’s murder and Rebecca’s disappearance.

Were you actually a target?

You went to sit back at your desk, looking at your old piece of parchment paper with your favorite canto of Dante’s Inferno written in cursive, the fifth, the canto of Francesca. The most famous line written in bold and in the original Italian, “Amor, ch’a nullo amato amar perdona,” or “Love, that excempts no beloved from loving in return.”

The bullpen was a shuffle of people, other agents you didn’t interact with that much, that didn’t come with you on cases, and tons of other people rushing around, going through files, making phone calls. Spencer strided over from the small kitchenette to sit at his desk, which was connected to yours, sitting across from you with a small wall of transparent glass in between.

He smiled at you, a warm, small smile that frequently was exchanged between the two of you. Sometime in between your talk at his desk and the hour or so you went without seeing each other, there was a microscopic layer of tension between you, beginning right where your desks separated.

The shuffling of the bullpen dulled the ache of the tension, and so did your eyes slowly closing to rest for just a few minutes as Reid spent his time half-dozing off while reading a printed out version of The Collector. Reid finally broke this silence when your head began to tilt to the side as you fell into a tiny cat nap. He called for you, with no response, so he got out of his chair and poked you in the forearm.

You wiggled a bit in your sleep, shifting around trying to find some semblance of comfort in your uncomfortable office chair. He takes a moment to stare just for a bit at your face. Looking at your eyes gently closed, your face peaceful even in this painful position, his mind fogged with the soft midnight laughter you traded with each other in the Vegas hotel room. He imagined the weight of your head on his chest, your arm laid over his stomach, your face and warm breath against the crook of his neck.

He realized quickly the words that came along with the happy memories made along with you. The constricting yet freeing feeling stuck in his throat and squeezed around his heart, the sort of euphoria you associate with the warm feeling of sun on your skin and driving a convertible along the coast. That beautiful, powerful, devouring feeling of knowing that someone has you. You’re theirs, completely and utterly.

The feeling of pure joy when you stop daydreaming and start remembering memories instead. When the words to describe this feeling escape you because all you can think about is that one, special person who has altered the course of your life forever. When you can no longer write romance because none of the words you put onto a page can do this feeling--this love--justice.

He was in love with you. He felt it in everywhere he looked, everything he did, and every moment he lived.

Spencer took a quick look around the office, and gently prodded at your sleeping form again until you open your eyes just a little, squinting against the bright lights of the bullpen. He held out his hand, which you, in your sleepy, half-awake state, took with no hesitation as he guided you into the conference room and turned off most of the lights.

He showed you to the couch, sitting on the far end, leaving you room to lay down and take the rest of it while the two of you rested and waited for Spencer’s mother to arrive. The crown of your head was just barely touching the side of his thigh, and eventually, moving and wiggling around in your sleep made you lay your head straight in his lap.

He felt the sudden movement and then the weight, and stared down at your side profile, admiring the way the dim lights highlighted your face perfectly. He brushed hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, and he swear he saw a ghost of a smile on your face. He fell asleep, fingers still intertwined and resting in your hair.

Spencer dreamt of city lights and midnight laughter and Vegas hotel rooms. He dreamt of walking up behind you while you made pancakes in the morning and piling kisses all along the side of your neck and face, arms wrapped around your waist and the way your body would be decorated in stripes by the morning sun.

He was woken up by the distribution of weight changing, your head shifting to stare up at him, hair surrounding your face in a pile on his lap. The sleepy smile that graces your face twists his stomach into knots and melts his heart.

You seem to not mind the fact that your head had wound up in his lap, and instead, you muttered a small, sleepy, single word. “Coffee?”

He almost laughed, just stunned by how natural the domesticity and comfortability between you two felt. Like the wall that had built between you--separating your pinkies from intertwining, separating your fates from inexplicably linking--had suddenly vanished. There was a mutual understanding there--you make me feel safe, you make me happy, you are mine.

He slid out from underneath your head, turning around just before he reached the exit to look at you, splayed across the couch comfortably, the dim 5:00 am moonlight gleaming through the windows, and your eyes, shining even brighter back at him with a giant smile on your face.

In the small kitchenette, he tidies himself up as much as possible, fussing with his hair while coffee brewed, and just as he finished pouring the both of you a cup, a group of FBI agents gathered around the entrance with a blonde, tall and pale woman that was Spencer’s mother.

“That’s why you’re so skinny, you know,” Spencer’s mother, Diana Reid stated only a few seconds after walking into the bullpen. Spencer turned his head, setting down the pot of coffee. His mother’s eyes were sunken just a bit, dark circles underneath, worry lines accenting her face. “Too much coffee.”

Her frame was cramped up, shoulders tightened and her body looking even more frail by the minute. Her short pixie cut looked untamed, and Spencer wondered how stressed she had been. He knows that she hates planes, and the government, and basically anything else where somebody might be watching her.

Schizophrenia tends to do that to a person. Even the smartest people get unlucky, get ill in a time where there isn’t much help or refuse it themselves. Spencer lives every day wondering about his mother’s happiness and well-being, but knows she is taken care of in her facility. He writes her everyday, and thinks about his childhood memories, about his father and mother and how he wanted a relationship that was nearly the opposite of that.

They loved each other at one point. Enough to have him and raise him together for a few years, and all he can think about is how much he would love and cherish his wife, his children with her, and how no matter what got in the way, he couldn’t see himself ever letting go.

All these thoughts, worry for his mother, himself, his future, his children float through his head and pass by in a few seconds. The next few seconds consist of you, whether his mother would approve of you and just how much she might adore you for seeing you make her son so happy.

Finally coming back to reality, he nodded at the FBI agents who had brought her here. “Thanks a lot guys, I’ve got her.” Walking forward, he looks at the horrified look on his mother’s face, eyebrows raised and hand coming to cover her mouth, glancing around the FBI bullpen, clearly unnerved by where she was.

Once the FBI agents have disappeared around the corner of the hallway into the bullpen and Spencer takes a few more steps towards her, she lets her hand drop from her face. “You know I’m terrified of flying,” she states, shaking her head for emphasis.

Spencer gives a small, fake smile. “I know mom, I’m sorry.”

Spencer glances over his mom’s shoulder, seeing you come out of the roundtable room and begin walking over to where he and his mom were standing. Still obviously upset, his mom continues, “Well then why did you have those fascists arrest me?”

He can hear your footsteps echoing throughout the mostly quiet bullpen, and he tries to calm his mom down before you arrive here, to introduce yourself.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid slow burn best friends to lovers au 20k #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x gender neutral!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #bau #bau x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #mgg x reader

185 notes · View notes