#and when the bathroom cleaner doesn't do it even with letting it sit for a while

[seawitchkaraoke]

I'm finally properly cleaning my bathroom after far far too long and I'm doing great on the sink and the mirror and all that but the cleaner I have is just. Doing nothing to the soap stains and orange fungus(?) in the shower which isn't helped by the shower having ridiculous sliding doors that create nooks and crannies that are really hard to get at with anywhere near enough force to scrub properly

Should just get bleach and throw bleach at everything but also I don't know that I trust my adhd ass with bleach, that shit is intense

[vevobly]

Yellowjackets Being On Their Period And Reader Taking Caring Of Them Headcanons! [Peri-crash] (1)

A/N: This is either going to be disgusting or sweet to you. Maybe even both. But whichever it is, I hope you enjoy and devour! Also, let's ignore canon a bit and pretend that wilderness baby came a little late somehow.

Jackie Taylor:

Jackie is deeply uncomfortable with the lack of hygiene and privacy out here. She's used to having clean bathrooms, fresh tampons, and midol available to use all the time back at home. Now? It's just moss and rags. So when her period hit, she panics a little. Because there are no tampons, no midol, and no bathrooms. She's not prepared for this at all. She doesn't ask for help, too prideful to ever do it even from you—her girlfriend.

She snaps at people more than usual, especially at Shauna and you. Always storming out of the cabin after it to be alone. You noticed her pacing outside once, looking pale and pissed. Before deciding to sew her a cleaner cloth pad with scraps and warming a stone for her cramps. You offered her it and while she did hesitate to take it, she eventually accepted it. “You didn’t have to do that, you know?” She says to you one night.

You shook your head. “Well, my girlfriend looked like she was struggling” You shrugged. She smiles and holds your hold, muttering about how primitive this all is. “I feel disgusting.” She whispered, leaning her head on your shoulder. You kiss her temple, chuckling a little before telling her everyone on the team except a few might feel the same. Jackie doesn't respond, she just falls asleep curled against you and doesn't move all night.

Shauna Shipman:

Shauna doesn't complain about it. She just grits her teeth through her cramps and tries to act like everything is normal, even though she's clearly in pain. You noticed it. You always noticed it. So you asked if she was okay, but she just lied and said yes. You don't want to push her into admitting it, so you just let it go. Of course, that doesn't mean you're just gonna let her suffer in silence because she's too stubborn about it.

You help her with her own chores whenever you can—collecting firewood, peeling bark, helping with the rations, and even washing some blood stained cloth in the steam. You found her sitting on the ground for too long once, clearly in pain. And decided to sit beside her. “You should go,” She told you. But you don’t. Instead, you hand her some of the clean rags you’ve kept hidden for this exact reason. She takes it from you, muttering “thank you” quietly.

You offered her this soup you made from forage herbs you think are safe one night. “What if it just… stops coming?” She says quietly, eyes not meeting yours. You don’t ask what she means. You just rest your hand on hers. That same night, she lets you hold her while she lies stiff as a board. You whisper that you're there for her, and she doesn't answer. But in the dark, she reaches for your hand and puts it on her belly—gripping it tightly.

Taissa Turner:

Tai's first instinct when her period comes is control. She pushes through everything. Bleeding? Fine. Cramps? Doesn't matter. She doesn't complain but instead doubles down. Despite everything, she's still trying to be the responsible one—the leader. But she's noticeably more irritable and short tempered than usual. I mean, you keep seeing her snapping at people more. Organizing firewood piles twice, and pacing around a lot.

You noticed her limping slightly once and confronted her about it. “It’s nothing,” She waved a hand dismissively at you. “Just tired.” It is so not nothing. Because despite her trying to make it seem like she's fine as much as possible, you notice anyway. How she winces every time she stands. How her jaw's been clenched all day. You leave a cloth pad near her sleeping spot at night. And she finds you the next day to mutter her thanks for it.

Seeing how much she works around the cabin despite being on her period a few days later, you decided to massage her lower back. And Tai? She doesn't resist it. She ends up sitting between your legs, leaning back against you while you hum softly. She sighs like she's letting go for the first time in days. “I hate not having control,” She murmurs. “Of my body, my head, all of it.” You kissed the top of her head, and she exhales slowly.

Van Palmer:

Van is a mix of jokes and discomfort when her period starts. “I think my uterus is actively trying to kill me,” She groans while being doubled over on a pile of blankets. While she treats the whole thing like it's a cosmic joke and makes everyone laugh about it, she's in deep pain. You saw her wincing once when she tried to walk and wordlessly immediately handed her a cloth pad you stitched. “You made this?” She takes it, stunned. “Don’t get excited. It’s not cute,” You joke.

She laughs and says. “You’re the best thing out here besides the fire.” But even with what you made, she's still having trouble with her period. Because a few days later, you found her biting her lip hard while clutching her lower stomach alone in a corner of the cabin. So then, you made another thing to help lessen the pain she's experiencing in a way—a makeshift hot compress using your last clean shirt. You soaked in hot but not scalding water, before wringing it, and then giving it to her.

She calls you a genius and kisses you like you saved her life. Later at night, you sit behind her and spoon her while she mutters sarcastic crap about this being the worst camping trip ever. She grabs your hand and holds it gently. “But I think it's less bad because you're here with me.” She tells you quietly. For a while, you're silent—not knowing what words to tell her. But then you're smiling and laughing a little. “That's the sappiest shit you've ever told me out here,” Van grins at that.

Natalie Scattorcio

Nat tries her best to act like it doesn't affect her, but she's clearly moody and more withdrawn. Smoking more than usual despite what little cigarettes she has left. Oh, and she keeps disappearing into the woods more. Spending longer hours hunting, walking, and sitting alone. You know she's trying to power through the pain because you know her tells and you notice it all. The way she drags her feet. The tight line of her jaw.

You noticed her flinching once when she was bending over and gently asked her if it was cramps. She glared at you for a moment, before sighing eventually. “Yeah. Sucks.” She replied. Nat is used to the pain her period is bringing her. She's almost okay with it, actually. But that doesn't mean it's any less painful than it is. So when you pulled her aside one day to give her clean cloth and some herbal tea that Misty made to relieve her pain at least even a little, she blinks—confused as hell.

“Why are you doing this?” She asks. You shrug. “Because I love you. And I know how bad it can get.” You told her. And then Nat takes the tea, albeit hesitantly. You stay with her as she drinks it in silence before she presses her forehead to your chest and says. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” The next day, you asked Misty what else you could do to relieve her pain. You bring her a hot flat stone wrapped in one of your old shirts and set it next to her by the fire later that night.

Lottie Matthews:

When Lottie's period comes, she's wincing a lot because of it. You see her breathing slowly sometimes, trying to calm herself through the camps. And when her cramps get bad, you notice how she breathes differently when it does. You offered to stay with her near the fire, and she said yes with a small nod in response. She lets you warm a blanket and drape it over her legs, one of your hands resting lightly over her lower stomach. “It hurts,” She says softly.

“I know,” You whispered. “And you don’t have to pretend like it doesn't with me.” Lottie's hand finds yours under the blanket. And then she's whispering something in french. Something soft that you just smile at her saying it, despite not knowing what it means. The next day, you find her sitting outside with blood down her legs. She's looking at the trees like they're speaking to her. You gently touch her shoulder, and she flinches before softening when she sees it's you.

You brought her water and some cloth. You help her clean up gently, and she lets you. You notice tears welling up in her eyes as you hum softly while helping her. “You don’t think I’m weird?” She asks. “I think no matter what's happening to you,” You trail off. “That you're human, and that's not weird.” Later at night, she gives you the bracelet she's been wearing since the crash. “Something to protect you. Like you protected me.” She says.

Laura Lee:

Laura Lee tries to act normal, but she's very embarrassed about bleeding in front of everyone. She tries to hide it at first, but then you see her wince when she kneels to pray. “It’s just... gross,” She confesses to you in the dead of night, after she leaks through her clothes. “I know it’s normal, but I feel... unclean.” You helped her clean up, before wrapping her in your jacket after. Then you braided her hair to calm her nerves, saying nothing until she breathed easier.

“God doesn’t think you’re gross,” You told her. “And neither do I.” She squeezes your hand tightly, her eyes a bit glassy. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane out here.” She let out a small laugh and then smiled at her. The next day, you offered her help and she flushed with shame. “I can’t let the others see.” Despite what you told Laura Lee last night, she's still very embarrassed about it. And suddenly, it gave you an idea,

And in the following days, you quietly made a safe space behind the cabin. You built a small barrier with branches and helped her settle there a few days later after you finished it, giving her clean rags and warm water. Then later at night, she jokes. “That wasn't exactly what I thought missionary work would be like.” You laughed, and she laughed too. “Sometimes I think god sent you,” She whispered, holding your hand like it was the very thing grounding her. “I love you.”

Misty Quigley:

Misty acts fine. Overly fine. “Oh, I tracked everyone’s cycles so we could be prepared!” She chirped. But when hers started, she was trying everything she could to hide it. Not because she was embarrassed about it! No, why would she be embarrassed about something that happened naturally to a girl's body? She just doesn't want to be needy. But then you caught her flinching while tending to the fire and gently guided her to sit. “I’m okay!” She tried resisting at first.

But you were very insistent, you even made her a tea from bark and herbs. She stares at you like you just gave her the moon. “No one’s ever... taken care of me like that.” She mumbles. “Well, that's depressing.” You commented. The next day, you found her cleaning herself near the stream despite her hands shaking just a little. You stepped in quietly, handed her a cleaner cloth that you saved, and just waited. “You’re not disgusted?” She asked, her voice small.

“Why would I be?” You replied. “You’re human. And I care about you because, after all, you're my girlfriend. That’s all.” You rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly while avoiding looking at her so she could have some privacy. Later at night, Misty sits beside you and shyly leans her head on your shoulder. “Thank you,” She whispered. “What for?” You asked. “For taking care of me, silly!” She kissed your cheek. Maybe she should be more vulnerable, so you could take care of her more.

[dicksoutforakutagawa]

atsushi nsfw headcanons <3

content contains: breeding, primal kink (predator/play), biting

he is sooo pent up and horny all the time. never got to explore his sexuality in the orphanage and now that he's out he doesn't know what to do

he LOVES breeding. the poor baby doesn't even know why. he just finds himself desperately rutting into you, hands digging into your hips, whimpering and begging you to let him cum inside. he HATES condoms and he HATES pulling out

you can FEEL him throbbing inside you as his fingertips press into your hips, his own hips mindlessly rutting against you as he buries his face in your neck and begs in a whimper to be allowed to cum inside

poor thing has the most ridiculously high sex drive. he keeps it to himself but once he gets a taste of you he’s CONSTANTLY thinking about it

sitting at work, remembering how soft and warm your insides are, how they grip him so perfectly to make his eyes roll back in his head, how they mould to fit his dick like a glove… and before he knows it he’s rock hard and has to go to the agency’s bathroom to jack off

which he does. he jacks off in the agency’s bathroom more than you’d expect. his usual sense of shame and shyness fades a little when he’s horny

he tries very hard to be gentle. he peppers your face in little kisses and kneads at your hips and tries SO HARD to ignore the ache between his legs. he really does try. he’s just not very good at it </3

sometimes gets distracted by hugging you. loves hugging you. you’re just so soft and warm and real and he adores you. he can’t stop himself from squeezing you to his chest and letting out a little chuff. he just loves you too much

doesn’t last very long on account of being pent up. However,

he does get it back up very quickly. he’s insatiable

loves to bite down on your shoulders or neck while he ruts into you. does not care about acne or scars or anything else you might be insecure about. he just chomps down

whimpers. a lot. when he bottoms out for the first time you can see his eyes physically roll back in his skull and he can’t manage to choke back the little whine in his throat

loves missionary because nothing is hotter to him than when you lock your legs around his hips so he can’t pull out

but also he likes seeing your face so he can press soft little kisses to your nose and cheeks when he’s not losing his mind in your soft insides

leaves you looking like you got attacked by a vaccuum cleaner. he can’t help himself

which is to his own detriment because every time he sees his own bite marks on your skin he can feel his dick twitch to life again

he loves it when you bite him back. he WILL get rougher. he WILL apologise. he WILL get hard again when you tell him you liked it

can probably be convinced into most things you might be into. draws the line at anything unhygienic or that would involve seriously hurting you. but he is so down to let you scratch him and bruise him and vice versa

REALLY likes predator/prey play. seeing you run away from him gets him going and hunting you down makes him SO hard

he loves tracking you down as you sprint through yokohama trying to escape him. he loves the combination of fear and excitement on your face when he corners you. he loves hearing your little whimpers and moans when he fucks you afterwards

when you’re both done, he wraps his fluffy big arms around you and curls around you. he’s chuffing quietly like a tiger and he’s rubbing his face on you like an affectionate housecat

you two can bathe later. for now, he just wants to feel your warm skin against his while you both fall asleep

[viburnt]

First kiss || MHA headcanons

Characters: Iida Tenya, Shigaraki Tomura, Kaminari Denki, Mina Ashido

Trigger warning: Self-esteem issues on Shigaraki's part.

Iida Tenya

• Iida is just too much of a proper and decent guy to initiate a kiss, even if his lips are itching to have a taste of yours. He thinks, thinks, thinks, and thinks... but no matter how much his brain tries, Tenya simply can't figure the right way to approach something like that.

• He wishes his brother could give him advice, but since he is not there for him anymore, he guesses his friends could help him out. Izuku suggests to watch a romantic movie and copy what they do there (the dork), while Ochako tells him to simply invite you for a date and let things be. Shōto outright says Iida should ask for one.

• Iida takes you to a little movie date, carefully picking one that would give him the right mood to make a move. Your head rests on his shoulder while his arm is wrapped around you, and when the moment comes... soda. Iida accidentally spills his soda over your clothes.

• He feels so dumb and clumsy, apologizing over and over as the people around shush him quiet. You go to the bathroom to clean yourself and he follows suit. Iida is slowly entering into a manic episode, blaming himself as if it was the end of the world.

• When you come out, he just looks at you ashamed. You assure him there was no problem, that it was an accident but Iida doesn't listen and stammers his thoughts out (including how he just wanted to kiss you).

• You blink once, twice, and thrice, asking him to repeat his words as he covers his mouth. It is then that Iida reluctantly confesses he'd asked his friends for help, but that he had screwed his plan up.

• The smile on your lips calms down Iida, and you tell him he should've just asked (props to Shōto! He was right for once). Tenya's cheeks turn into a deep hue of red, splashing his ears and neck too; you step closer, hold his hand and tell him to go with the flow.

• His first kiss is brief, chaste and sweet; befitting of Iida. You're not surprised of the softness of his lips, and while you wanted to continue, the kiss comes to an end soon to avoid overwhelming him. The way his smile trembles after it is simply adorable, his hands doing robotic movements in nervousness; you take his hand and go back to the movie.

"I'm still sorry for spilling my drink over you. Please, let me send it to the cleaners." Iida offered, holding your hand as the two exited the cinema. "There's no need, really! I'l just wash it later." You declined, smiling at him with enamored eyes. "Then I'll make sure to buy you another shirt."

Giggling, you shook your head. "Iida Tenya, stop that. There's no harm done, plus, I think there are more things to care about than a soda stain," you winked. Iida looked at you a little puzzled, just to then realize what you were talking about. "Oh..."

"How about a second kiss?"

Shigaraki Tomura

• He is very self aware of his body and quirk, often thinking of himself lowly even when you reasure him there's nothing about him you wouldn't like. Tomura frequently shies away from your touch, limiting his interactions with you to verbal affection (the only moments where he allows you to be physically close is when there's a barrier like clothes, but even then he is very reluctant).

• Shigaraki fears that you could find him gross and allows his thoughts to cloud his mind, but you take it as a challenge to gradually wreck the walls he's built around him. He is your boyfriend after all, and you want to share all kind of things with him.

• Tomura's releasing his nerd rage over the microphone of his headset when you have the brilliant idea of kissing him for the first time. The man's sitting on the floor while you sit on the edge of his bed, your thighs around his head as the screen of the T.V turns black: Game over, retry? He groans, tossing the controller nearby as he turns off the console in frustration.

• You tell him you know what could make him feel better, patting his head with mischief; he looks at you and rolls his eyes, listening closely whatsoever. When the word kiss leaves your mouth, he sees himself out of the room; you don't take offense of it considering it wasn't the first time a reaction like that happened (bear with him, his heart just can't). Tomura returns a minute later with the most flustered face you've ever seen.

• He asks if you're for real, and you nod; he asks again, and you continue nodding. Before he tries to ask for a third time, you stop him and explain that you do want to kiss him. Tomura simply can't grasp the idea but he guesses he could try. You ask him to close his eyes and let you work.

• The kiss is tender, you can feel him tense and gradually relax as time passes. You caress his cheeks, play with his hair and when he least expects it, you finish. Shigaraki is speechless and refuses to even look at you for a couple moments, but he asks if you can do it again.

"You know you are a freak for even liking me, right?" He snarks, resting his head on your lap many kisses later. You just laugh, brushing the mess you made on his hair while making out, "Am I now?" Tomura looks away flustered and then returns his gaze to you. "No... But I still think you're weird for kissing me that much." Raising a brow, you clean some lipstick marks off him, "I'm not the one losing videogame matches to get kisses"

Kaminari Denki

• To say Kaminari is a bundle of energy would be an understatement. He is touchy, expressive, and often likes to hang out on your personal space; it's his form of showing how much he likes you, and that includes "joking" about kissing you (he is not joking in any way, he just panics and disguises his words as playful banter).

• Denki is just scared that he might not be a good kisser, which is why he stops himself from being serious about his words. He wants his first kiss with you to be special, something nice that you remember with joy not embarrassment. Sero just tells him that he should relax and let things flow, otherwise the chances of really ridiculing himself get higher.

• It is during a date to the game arcade that Kaminari decides to finally let things happen. He is hitting all the high scores in the machines to earn a decent prize for you at the shop (which considering how exorbitant the amount of tickets are needed for a simple candy, it's an achievement), winning some time to mentally prepare for what's bound to happen.

• You are having a blast, laughing and having fun to your heart's content when Kaminari suggests taking pictures in a nearby photo booth (he just wanted to be in private with you). He pulls you close to him, looking at the camera lens and throwing silly faces and poses; Denki looks at you while your attention is on the screen and places his hand on your cheek. The photos forgotten as you look at each other, heart's beating in unison.

• The kiss is clumsy, his lips practically crashing against yours as he basks on the softness of yours; you can feel a slight zap on your lips too. The moment reminds you of how sometimes puppies make a mess when they are offered food, scattering it everywhere in a desperate attempt to take everything they can. You don't mind at all.

• It's effervescent, natural, genuine, all the words that describe Kaminari to perfection. You giggle a bit, making Kaminari worry, but after you assure him everything is more than fine, he continues. The moment is so real to you two that even Denki starts smiling and chuckling against your lips.

• Yes, it may not be the perfect kiss to others, but it is to you and him (and the people outside the booth that had to awkwardly wait while you two finished). Oh, and you have it on pictures too!

"Ah, look at this one! We look so dumb, haha," you laugh, sharing the photo strip with Denki. He snorts and cackles at the picture, placing it in his wallet. "We should really make an album of all our kisses", he suggests, watching you nod in agreement. "Sounds like a great idea, not gonna lie. Just don't keep me waiting for the next kiss, I was starting to worry there was something wrong with me!" You chirp, teasing the blond; his cheeks just flush in response, "Sorry, I just didn't want to screw up".

Tag list: @doumadono @trickster-kat @dabislittlemouse @angelshimaa @shonen-brainrot @imaginationmess @shionancientsblog

[geesevillain]

hi. i really like calx. a lot. and i was wondering if you could write (general everyday relationship) head canons or maybe drabbles? in all honesty, I'll take literally anything about him. so, just do anything you're comfortable with or simply just want to do. thank you so much especially for creating this weird monster man........ i love him so

i'm glad you like this little weirdo .. hopefully this suffices ofc ♡

cw: mdni, gender neutral, cannibalistic(?) tendencies still, laundry sniffer, finger sucker, he's just a silly little lovesick fool

Calx is the cryptid equivalent of a dog, just one that would rather eat you than play fetch. That doesn't mean he doesn't like to play fetch; no, he enjoys it very much. It's just a little odd to watch your much larger cryptid mate run around your house as he chases a ball. He's broken a vase or two because of it, but he always makes up for it by gifting you a dead rabbit or something of the sort.

Speaking of, his love language is gift-giving. It shouldn't come as much of a shock, especially since that was his way of courting you to begin with. He turns into a whimpery, whiney mess any time he brings an animal carcass home for you. He always leaves them in places he knows you'll notice them: outside the bathroom door while you're showering, at the end of your bed while you're still asleep, even on your pillow just as you're getting ready to call it a night. He never understands why you get so upset whenever he does leave you a gift. Sure, the blood tends to stain your bedding, but he's not doing it on purpose.

He's been infatuated with your scent ever since the first time he broke into your house. It just took that little inhale to get him hooked. He especially loves the way your scent clings to your dirty laundry. It's become a must that you hide your hamper to prevent him from dumping the contents onto your bed. He just can't help himself, especially not when you leave him alone. If he can't shove his nose into the crook of your neck, then he'd make do by burying it in the fabric of one of your dirty shirts instead. They're never as warm as you, but they still keep his mind at bay when you're gone.

Strange domestic life aside, he still really wants to consume you. He's not a human, clearly, so his instincts scream at him to fill his belly with your flesh. He hasn't, not yet, anyway. He's more than content with lapping at your skin like a man starved, which you could say he kind of is. You're practically dripping in his saliva by the time he's finished. His favourite part is when you let him suck your fingers. It's odd, yes, but it keeps his mind at bay. It beats sucking and gnawing on his own, which was always a bad habit of his. Your fingers are also far cleaner than his own, so he appreciates the lack of dirt when you let him indulge a little.

Alongside licking, he's also a biter. It's as close as he'll ever get to actually eating you. The hungrier he gets, the more he likes to bite and nibble on your skin. He especially loves to hold you from behind as he lavishes your shoulders with little nibbles. He knows not to take it too far, mainly after that one incident. He hadn't meant to draw blood, not really, anyway. He had just gotten a little too carried away and let his instincts take control a little. Being kicked out for the night was awful, so he quickly learned to not do it again.

He loves it when you play with his hair. It became an almost nightly routine for you to brush the knots out of his long hair. That's always after you help him bathe, of course, on account that he still doesn't know how to work your shower. He absolutely hated it the first time you ushered him into the bath. He was never fond of water, so having to sit in a bath full of it upset him greatly. Now, he practically drags you into the bathroom every night knowing that you'll play with his hair when he's all clean. He especially loves it when you braid his hair. He's tried to do the same for you, regardless of your hair length/type, but he's much too clumsy to do so. He ends up knotting your hair more often than not, even if he does try his best to mimic the way you braid his own.

Overall, he's a silly little lovesick cryptid.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Slave Of Duty: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Summary: You're pulled away for a case in the middle of Haley's funeral. Spencer is still mad at you that you didn't let him see you while in prison, but how can you explain to him that whenever you look into a mirror, you hate the person you see? You're far from being okay and Spencer is the kind of comfort you're desperately looking for.

Season Five Masterlist

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them.

x

You two walk back into the office and join JJ's side who is talking to Penelope over video chat. You assume Spencer brought everyone up to speed on what you found.

"Find anything?" you ask.

"Several people had access to each home. Housekeeper, gardener, pool cleaner, and dog walker. Each of them had their own key and an alibi to match." 

"Any cross-over?"

"None. We even vetted delivery people and utility workers."

"Garcia, do you have anything?" Rossi asks.

"There are no hits on the prints at all, but I did what Sir Derek asked and I created a paper trail. There's no cross-over between the two victims themselves in the wee hours leading up to their murder, but they did run in similar circles."

"Like what?"

"They both have country club memberships but to different clubs, they went to upscale restaurants, private concert venues, and posh hotels. They enjoyed a high-class, highfalutin lifestyle which isn't cheap."

"A lifestyle he's fit right into," Emily says. You look behind you to see her and Derek in the room. "This guy is educated, intelligent, and proper. He's a downright gentleman."

"The rose petals sent a pretty specific message. He's romancing them whether they want it or not. He's got the social skills to back it up. Hey, Garcia, take a look at dating services and social networking sites. Look for working professionals and the privileged elite," Derek says.

"Check, check, and checkers. Back in a smidge," she says and hangs up.

"Have we figured out how he's getting into these homes?"

"There are no signs of forced entry anywhere. Yet he's still gaining access to their homes before the victims ever get home from work. I mean, this guy needs time to cook and set up his scene. He's either got a key or he can move through walls."

"We need fresh eyes," Rossi sighs.

"Alright, I want everybody to go back to the hotel and try to get some rest. We're gonna have to pick this up again in the morning."

"We're giving up?" Emily gasps.

"No, we're taking a break. We have to give the profile at morning roll, and none of us has slept since the funeral. Once Garcia can get us a paper trail, then we can expand our canvas. Till then, there's really not a lot we can do."

You don't tell anyone that you're scared to go to sleep. As soon as you open your big mouth, people are going to look at you differently. You don't want that. You never wanted them to treat you differently. Instead, you keep your mouth shut and head back to the hotel with the rest of the team.

You and Spencer are in one room like always but tension is high. You can cut the air with a knife. You're in the bathroom getting ready for bed while Spencer is getting into it. You're not sure when he is going to be okay with what you did to him but you have to give him time like Rossi said. Spencer keeps one of the lamps on for you while his lamp is off.

He doesn't know that your entire world is crumbling. You're sitting on the floor with your back against the door and tears streaming down your face. Your hand is over your mouth to muffle any kind of noise you might give out. Spencer has no clue how much pain you're in but the last thing you want to do is tell him. When he hurts, you hurt and you don't think you can hurt more.

You're terrified to go to sleep. If you close your eyes, you might wake up back in that cell surrounded by women who burden you with their feelings. How can you ever tell the man you love that you don't feel safe at home anymore? For the next thirty minutes, you try to calm down enough to get into bed without alerting Spencer.

You do but you don't fall asleep until the clock strikes two.

Due to only getting four hours of sleep, you're exhausted by the time you walk into the police station. Spencer left before you did which is a good thing because you cried the entire time you were in the shower. You must have dark circles under your eyes and pale skin because Spencer does a double-take when he looks at you. Despite how he feels right now, he still loves and cares for you.

"Are you okay?" he whispers.

"Fine."

Spencer leaves it a that but JJ notices something between you two. She bites the end of her straw in thought but you don't pay attention to her. Derek and Emily are the last ones in and Derek notices you by the coffee machine. You're staring at it as if it's holding the secrets of the universe. You're checked out so he puts his hand on your shoulder which brings you out of your trance.

"Hey. Coffee?"

"Sure. Thanks. Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"I don't think so. You just got out of prison. That couldn't have been fun."

You turn to Derek and take his hand while trying to hide your desperation. "Derek, I am fine. I am going to be fine. I will continue to be fine." You're not sure if you're trying to convince him or yourself. "Please believe me."

"Okay. You know I worry about you."

"You have nothing to worry about."

"Then let's start the profile."

He and the team gather Landon and his offices so that they can deliver the profile. You're still by the coffee machine repeating those three sentences in your head over and over again. I am fine. I am going to be fine. I will continue to be fine. With coffee in hand, you walk over to the team. You're not sure you can do your best so you decide to stay silent and let them handle this one.

You catch your reflection in one of the windows near you and pause. Who the hell is that staring back at you? You used to be so full of life and hope. Now, it's just an empty shell. Your spirit was stolen from you in prison and you're not sure if you can find it again.

"We believe our unsub is already with his next victim," Rossi begins. "If he matches the pattern, she'll be a successful woman, probably brunette and in her early thirties to mid-forties. She'll be at home in Nashville's upper echelon."

"This means that he fits in. He drives the right car, he wears the right clothes, he's highly intelligent, and he probably comes from a place of status. This guy's sociable and endearing. You would never suspect that this man is capable of murder, but he will do whatever it takes to protect the fantasy that he's trying to relive."

"It's this fantasy that fuels his drive. He's recreating a romantic evening and repeating it with each of his victims. He most likely had a relationship taken away from him recently, so look at men who have lost loved ones or have gone through a messy divorce."

"Much like Bundy, these women are representations of that first loss. Bundy picked victims who had similar features to the woman who abandoned him. We believe that our unsub is doing the same thing," Spencer explains. "These women were confident, successful, and strong. They fought back which means he has the ability to overpower them fairly easily. He believes or fantasizes he's in a relationship with these women. No matter how fleeting the initial interaction is, it's everything to him like an invitation."

"Our technical analyst has compiled a list of locations that the victims visited prior to their death. These are high-class establishments. We're going to want to visit the same places. Look for men who fit the profile but also women who match victimology. If somebody's been paying a little too much attention to them, talk to them. Get a read, then jot their name down so that we can check them out," Derek finishes.

"Alright, folks, pick up your canvassing assignments and get to work," Landon addresses.

"Thank you."

It's not long until another woman is murdered. You knew it was coming but you didn't know how soon it would be here. This murder is different because the unsub killed two people, and one of them was a man. It's not in the MO of the unsub to do that so you can only assume the male victim caught the unsub by surprise.

"The house belongs to Erika Silverman who is a project director in an international design firm. We're assuming the male victim is her boyfriend, Grant Franklin. They're both pretty beat up. We'll need dental records for a positive ID," Landon says when you get there.

"Who called it in?" Emily asks.

"UPS guy. He needed her signature for a package and saw the door wide open. He's out back right now.'

"JJ, talk to him," Derek says and she leaves.

"Where is Erika's body?"

"Follow me." Landon takes you to Erika's body which is a brutal sight. "He changed his MO. She has multiple stab wounds to the face and neck, and there is evidence that she had sex before she died."

"Classic overkill," Rossi comments.

"Forced or consensual?"

"There is no evidence of sexual assault."

"She played along. She had sex with the unsub because she thought it would keep her alive," Emily sighs.

"Why didn't it? This kill is clearly personal and angry. She didn't give him everything that he wanted."

"What else did he want?"

"Y/N? See anything?

You turn to face the front of the house to get a better look at what happened the night before. Erika is already in here with the unsub but the front door opens and Erika's boyfriend enters. The unsub is angry that his plans are ruined which explains the overkill on both of them. Both Grant and the unsub begin fighting but something is wrong here. Grant begins running from the unsub and turns to see if he is chasing him, but you're staring at yourself being chased by the unsub, not Grant.

What the hell is going on here? You open your mouth to scream but nothing comes out. The fear you have is manifesting in your visions. How can you help this team if you can't help yourself? No one knows what's really going on, and how can you tell them now? How can you come clean that you're not ready to be back at work? You thought you could just put it behind you like you've done every other time.

How can you ever move on from a place like that?

"Excuse me. I'm sorry," you whisper and leave the house.

Emily, Derek, and Rossi look at each other with concern written across their faces. You walk to the end of the driveway where the street is and take a few deep breaths to calm your racing heart. You close your eyes and count to ten in hopes that when you open them, your panic attack will have subsided.

However, when you open your eyes, you're brought back to your past. One that you've been trying so hard to escape from. The street is empty save for a few cars parked on the side. The house you were just in doesn't look like Erika's house. It looks like a random house on this random street in a city that's all too familiar to you.

There is a car that's parked that you'd recognize even with your eyes closed. It's a van that can be used as a camper since the back seats have been taken out. There are curtains inside the car that are drawn closed to prevent people from looking inside. The car rocks to show that there is a struggle inside and a little girl's scream can be heard.

A desperate scream for help. Anyone. Your scream.

You've only thought about this moment every day since it happened. You haven't forgotten one detail of it.

Your breathing picks up as you look for anyone who can come help you. You're being assaulted and there is nothing you can do about it. The man was too strong... too powerful. Something moves out of the corner of your eyes and you turn to see a person walking down the sidewalk. You grab her shoulders when she nears you and shake her desperately.

"Help her. She needs your help. Aren't you going to help?"

"Y/N?"

You're brought back to reality by your friend's name and gone is the van you think about every day. Emily stands in front of you with a worried look on her face, and you let go of her shoulders.

"Sorry," you whisper and wipe the tears from your face.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You're crying."

"I said I'm fine, Emily. Excuse me."

You leave your friend behind and join everyone else who is still inside the house. Derek and Spencer are in the kitchen so you decide to see what's up with him instead of looking at Erika's body and reliving her torment.

"The dinner dishes are washed, but the breakfast plates aren't. He didn't clean up this time. The boyfriend must have surprised him and disrupted his routine."

"I don't know, I'd say he came pretty close to finishing it. It looks like they watched a movie and had an early breakfast. She was with him all night," Spencer theorizes.

Your phone rings and you almost jump out of your skin from the noise. You look to see Penelope's name so you force your feelings down and answer her call.

"Hey, Pen."

"Bad news, buttercup. There is no payoff on the social networking sites, and Erika does not leave a breadcrumb-like trail. Aside from a couple of online purchases and some automatic debits, she hasn't used her credit card all week."

"Thanks." You hang up and look at Derek. "Garcia didn't find anything about Erika's whereabouts over the past week. No stores, no restaurants, nothing."

"There might be another way to figure out where she's been. Do we know where any of the victims' cars are?" Spencer asks.

"Impound, probably."

"We need access to all four of them."

"Four?"

"We should also get Grant's car. He may have driven Erika somewhere where she met the unsub."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[wilted-rose-143]

Sometime’s love is safest when it’s kept secret

WARNINGS:

Homophobia

Descriptions of violence

Blood

Cursing

Gay Slur

Cuts/Bruises

A/N: Just want to let you know, they are aged up to around 15/16 at the time, and if I decide to continue this later on, the timeline will be further explained. But, all you need to know currently is that they are aged up, and Henry Bowers was not pushed down the well. With that, I hope you enjoy!

Richie stepped up to the front steps of Eddie Kaspbrak's house, not until after making sure his mother wasn’t home, and knocked on the door. Richie had this certain way of knocking, the whole Loser’s Club has memorized it now, and he did it specifically so the losers club members could always feel safe to answer the door when they heard it.

Richie waited for just a few minutes until Eddie answered. “Hey, Richie, what’s-..”

Eddie froze when he saw Richie’s face. In an instant, Eddie grabbed Richie’s shoulders and pulled him closer. “Oh my god, what happened?”

Richie’s face was bloodied and bruised. His cheek was pouring blood in a diagonal line, actively turning purple and blue, as his eye on the opposite side of his face was swelling up and turning black and blue, a bleeding cut too close to his eye for comfort.

“Bowers got me good this time.” Richie grinned at him. “I was hoping Dr. Kaspbrak would be free to fix me up?”

Eddie didn’t think twice before pulling Richie inside and taking him up to his room.

Eddie had him sit down on the floor in front of his bed and went over to the bathroom. Eddie collected his medical supplies then came back to him and kneeled in front of him.

Richie was just sitting there fidgeting his hands. He felt bad making Eddie do this every time, with it basically being everyday now. He didn’t want to worry Eddie, and he really didn’t want to explain why this was happening. He just slowly looked up as he saw Eddie beginning to put a cleaner on a cotton pad.

Eddie quietly soaked the cotton pad in rubbing alcohol as he thought of what to say. He took a small breath and looked up at Richie and slowly spoke. “Rich, you need to tell me why this is happening.”

“It’s just Bowers being Bowers, he’s always been a dick to us.” Richie, in his usual manner, responded quickly and nonchalantly.

Eddie gave him a look, not satisfied with his answer. “Yes, but this is worse Richie.Yes, Bowers picks on us, but it’s been you especially lately. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, okay? Will you just leave it?” Richie spoke harsher than intended, instantly regretting his small outburst.

Eddie looked clearly hurt for a minute before just going quiet and taking Richie’s glasses off his face, finding that there was a visible cut and indent from his glass being pressed into his face. He wiped off the glasses as blood poured from the cut down his face. “Oh god, Richie.. I’m worried about you.. Please just talk to me..” He quietly begged, slowly beginning to wipe up the blood coming from his nose, and instinctively putting a hand over Richie’s when he flinched from the cleaner.

Richie glanced down at their hands as soon as he felt the touch. He knew that all the Losers had noticed the never fading bruises and cuts he'd collected over the weeks of endless torment.

Eddie had questioned the dynamics of Richie's home life for as long as he could remember. Eddie has been over Richie's house more times than he can remember, yet he's hardly ever seen Richie's parents. Eddie can't say anything about them, besides the fact their constant absence has really concerned him. But it doesn't seem like they've even really noticed Richie getting beat up, which just got Eddie more worried.

Richie never said anything bad about his parents to make Eddie worry, granted he never really said anything good about them either.

Eddie slowly brought Richie's hand up to hold the cotton pad over his nose. “Richie.. Please talk to me.. I'm worried about you..”

Richie looked up at Eddie and his heart burned as he felt his face heat up. ‘God damn it, Richie, get yourself together.! He’s your best friend, that’s it!’ His thoughts raced as he slowly spoke. “I told you, it’s nothing. It’s just Bowers being Bowers.”

“Rich, I’m not stupid. This isn’t regular behavior, even from Bowers. This is extreme. There has to be a reason he’s acting even worse than normal, especially since it’s only you he’s acting like this with you. Just tell me why this is happening. I won't judge you.”

Richie looked down, moving Eddie's hand away. “I.. When it first started.. I went to the arcade and started playing Street Fighter with this kid I met. Then Bowers and his friends came by, and it turns out that kid was Bowers' cousin. And he got mad at me and chased me out of the arcade.. He punched and pushed me.. Used that god forsaken pocketknife and cut across my cheek.. While he was hitting me I think he hit my glasses into my nose..” Richie hissed at the cleaner as Eddie began cleaning another cut.

“That can’t be it. All of that just because you hung out with his cousin?” Eddie tried helping him calm down and relax so that it wouldn’t hurt as much. Usually, anyone else would react to what he said, but Eddie had heard similar stories from Richie ten times over.

“Well.. His cousin called me a fairy.. And.. Bowers called me a faggot..” The hesitation was clear in his voice and he felt Eddie’s hand stiffen up. It pressed the cotton pad into his cut, squeezing out the rubbing alcohol, and caused him to flinch back a bit with a hiss.

“Oh- God, I’m sorry Richie!” Eddie instantly grabbed a dry tissue and wiped up some of the alcohol and blood from his cheek. He had his hand gently pressed on Richie's cheek that was just bruised, trying not to hurt him anymore than he already did. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, Richie. It’s just.. You don’t deserve to be called that. Especially not just for playing an arcade game with someone.”

He sat there for a second, pausing from cleaning Richie's cuts, and just looked at him. The silence freaked Richie out, but Eddie's words scared him more. “Is.. Is it true though?”

“I..” Richie froze and looked at Eddie. “I mean.. what do you want the answer to be.?”

Eddie leaned forward and hugged him, pulling him close. “I want the answer to be whoever you really are.. I want to know your truth.. Richie’s nerves were obvious, and he slowly grabbed his glasses and put them on, the bridge sinking into the cut it previously called home.

Eddie then realized exactly how Richie felt. He realized that he was ashamed about this part of himself. He realized that Richie would do anything to have people like him. He realized that as long as he had these people care about him, he didn’t care what it did to himself. “I don’t care, Rich.. Whatever you are, whoever you honestly are, is who I want to hear the answer from..”

Richie felt the heat rise to his face and slowly pulled Eddie into a hug. He clenched his eyes shut and forced the rising tears out of his eyes. “Thank you..”

“So..” Eddie pushed away from the hug to look into Richie’s eyes. “What are you.?”

Richie took a deep breath and looked at him. “I’m in love with you..”

Looks were exchanged without words, thoughts racing. One filled with regret and paranoia, the other with surprise and flattery. The world seemed to move in slow motion over the next few moments. Eddie's hand slowly found its way to Richie’s, and they interlocked, as the two slowly leaned closer. All of a sudden, a match was lit and there was a fire burning in Richie’s heart. His emotions got the best of him and in the heat of excitement, he put a hand against Eddie's cheek and pushed against him.

Eddie leaned back, a strange feeling forming in his stomach. He'd never been this close to anyone before and had never even thought of doing this with a guy. And on top of that, it was his first kiss. His first kiss was with a guy, and his best friend of all people. But he couldn't deny the fact that he didn't hate it. He let Richie control the situation, knowing he wouldn't go too far, holding his hand tighter. As their lips moved against each other, a sickening realization washed over him. He knew that smell. Richie had been smoking. Eddie knew something was up with him, but he didn't realize until now. Was he high? What was he smoking this time? Did he not even mean it? Was this just another night Richie would forget?

Eddie had tensed up at the thought and pulled away, his face flushed a sweet pink color. He felt so stupid. He managed to miss the fact that his best friend was probably just working off a high, and would forget any of this happened. He looked at Richie, a sickening feeling in his stomach. Did that really just happen?

Richie and Eddie just exchanged silent looks. Neither knew how to move on from this situation, but both had one common goal in mind. Keep this.. Incident, a secret.

- 1616 words -

Hello! I hope you guys enjoyed the story!

I'm sorry about this taking so long, I've just been fairly busy lately! I hope it's not bad and is what you expected! Please let me know if you want me to continue this and give me feedback! Feel free to tell me how to write better, or if you believe I'm doing something wrong, but please make sure to keep it respectful! Thank you!

~ Rose

[writing-whump]

Discovering closeness

Seline has a headache and doesn't want to say it. Cue some comfort and fluff from Isaiah.

---

Seline didn't tell Isaiah about the headache.

They moved in together to be able to be there for each other. Now that the danger was heightened, now that they were seen as a pack and a threat. So they could check on each other, if someone was late or heal each other from deadly poisons.

Seline was pretty sure neither of those options involved whining about a little headcold.

She had a whole floor to herself. Just a small bedroom, but it came with her own bathroom and the distance the steps provided.

The boys shared the lower floor, each with their own room, one more bathroom, the kitchen and the living room. Isaiah found a very large place for the price they could afford together. His contacts weren't shabby at all. They didn't protest it. Instead, they each tried to bring something over to the new apartment.

Seline brought most of her furniture for the living room. Matthew didn't bring material stuff, but he fixed her bathroom and replaced the tubes under the sink and somehow got the dishwasher working. It was little things, but they were all trying.

The new routines were another thing. Matthew offered to get groceries, big shopping and little things if they texted him during the day. Seline opted for cleaning - she liked seeing the results of a nicely swept floor or unfattening the kitchen sink. It was meditative in its repetiveness.

Fortunately for all, Isaiah was a skiled and willing cook. He cooked for them all, waking up first for breakfast, preparing something big for dinner, since they ate out for lunch.

All in all, Seline had nothing to complain about. They were new at this, sure, and still figuring each other out. Maybe it was a little exhausting to be on your guard, so careful all the time to get along. But they were all doing their best and their best wasn't worst either.

But she probably expected too much too soon. The boys let her to her late mornings, so they didn't notice she was feeling off when leaving and she didn't feel quite as natural telling them.

And when they left, she tried to shrug it off. Just a bit of cold and a headache. She would just sit it out at home with some warm tea. Wolves that dealt with attacks, fights with their shadows and other serious injuries involving blood and broken bones that healed in a few hours or days wouldn't deal with a bit of a cold. It was ridiculous.

At midday she run out of milk. End of tea then, cause she wanted it her Earl grey milky and sweet.

The headache got worse and she only had last two tablets of painkillers. There was no way she was spending those. She never finished things she didn't have stokced for later. What if it got worse and she wouldn't have it?

Around lunch, her head was pounding her thoughts away. She stayed huddled in her pajamas and a bathrobe in the kitchen, glued to the window still, watching the sun. Somehow she couldn't muster up the energy to move.

Seline used to like the silence of an empty house. When the chaos of her brother, her father always talking out loud his thoughts and frantic mother finally left for work and school, she finally had some precious hours of peace and focus. Her classes were all over the place in the afternoon, which was perfect for her late sleeping and long way by train.

But now the peace felt disturbing. Mocking her in her loneliness. She could hardly call dad to get her painkillers or mom to hurry up from work. She could not whine to her wolf roomates just yet.

Neither earned that privilege from the other.

Seline felt hollow, stupid and spoiled for letting that affect her mood so much.

The keys rustled in the door.

Isaiah came in, graceful as always, already hanging his coat and suit jacket up. He stepped out of his polished shoes, went them over with a cleaner and packed them away. All quick and efficient before he even stepped down into the living room.

"Ah Seline, you are already home? What do you think about lasagna for dinner? If you are up to it, I'll text Matthew to-"

She sniffled.

Isaiah froze midsentence, backtracking to properly look at her perch on the window. Only now realising she didn't change since morning, didn't even change positions.

"Hey, Seline? Is something the matter?"

"No," she said, rubbing at her cheeks as the tears started for real.

Isaiah dropped his phone and hurried to her, hands hovering over her shoulders in hesitation. "Hey, hey, hey. Talk to me. What's wrong? You can tell me."

"It's just...it's nothing. It-it's stupid."

Isaiah pushed a lock of blonde hair out of her face. "It's not stupid if it's making you cry. Hey."

He was there, voice warm and soft and she couldn't resist the offer anymore. Her hands clenched on the front of his shirt as she cried. Isaiah didn't seem to need more permission either, because he swept her up in his arms at the contact, carrying her over to the couch.

Isaiah settled down with Seline in his lap. She buried her face in his chest, her nose full of his smell. It was bittersweet, like dark chocolate, blackberry and steel.

"Hey. You're burning up, you know that?" Isaiah asked, combing his fingers through her hair. His touch was attentive, tuned to her every sniffle and shake. But she held on to him still, hands tight around his shirt as she wetted it with her tears.

After a while, the shaking slowed and the tears ran out. Seline wasn't even sure of the reason anymore, but snuggled warm in Isaiah's arms, she felt safe, warm and protected. The hallowness in her chest filled up, warmth blooming around her ribcage instead.

"You are supposed to tell me, when you don't feel well," Isaiah chided against her hair.

Seline pulled away from his chest, supported by his arms to look at his face.

"Correction. You don't have to tell me. But I would love it if you would. This is what we moved together for, right?"

"It's just a headache. I'm just emotional today. Sorry."

Isaiah huffed in exasperation. "You are not feeling well. I don't care if it's a headache or a wolf biting your head off or a fly clashed against your eye. If I don't know, I can't help. And I would love to help."

A fly in her eye hardly seemed like a valid reason, but it made her smile.

And she could hardly tell him she wished he knew without him needing to tell him. That kind of closeness came with time, mindfulness and experience, specifically with each other. It couldn't be cheated or rushed over.

They wanted to be part of each other's lives. The way he held her felt like he didn't mind or even enjoyed being this close.

Seline tucked her head against his chest, taking deep breaths. Her head was still pounding, but the tears brought relief.

She closed her eyes, relishing the closeness as Isaiah's chest raised and fell beneath her ear.

---

@bellysoupset

[eldritchmochi]

iiits wip wednesday and while i haven't written anything in A BIT i also haven't posted a wip in a bit so like, here ya go. its not smutty???? (wild)

an excerpt from the next chapter of my epic length shadowgast bdsm au COPING SKILLS

--

He can just hear his washer start as he steps back out into his living room. Between his sheets and his casual clothing, she'll be around most of the afternoon tending to his laundry, but she doesn't need to run three loads. He startles her again when he knocks on the door frame of his laundry room, his afghan trailing to the floor from his hand.

"Room for one more?" he asks, gesturing with the blanket.

"Only if you promise to not give me any more heart attacks today, Essek bey," she replies, voice firm despite her smile. She takes the blanket he offers and packs it in with the rest of his bedding, then drops the lid to the machine with a clang.

Essek steps out of her way, his back towards his front door, and gestures with his cane. She shuffles past, dusting her hands off as she returns to her caddy of supplies.

"You do not get to hover either, Essek bey," she adds. "You know I do good work."

"I do indeed," he tells her, and he's not hovering, he just—

Has mommy issues, and Mihra has done much for his private little household over the last fifteen-odd years she's been in his employ. They don't often engage face to face anymore, but he's still fond of her, and he's still—out of sorts from the day before, in need of care and attention that Caleb isn't around to give.

He can let her work though, even if he misses the warmth of his afghan when he sits back on his horrible couch. He doesn't fidget either, prestidigitating his sticky mug clean before slurping at his coffee. It's—cold, which he should have expected, and it only manages to make Essek miss Caleb more.

He has entirely too many tasks to complete and no where near enough brainpower to complete them. He's—antsy with Mihra puttering around his condo with him, too aware of her presence, too aware of the signs of his weekend activities. She won't gossip, probably, but—Light, there is a condom in his bed side bin. Essek doesn't regret Caleb, absolutely not, but he does regret everything else leading up to this, to him being—perceived as anything but Shadowhand Thelyss.

And it's only bound to be worse as the gala approaches.

Mihra hums as she sprays down his bathroom with cleaner, sharp fake citrus that stings Essek's nose. He—starts by retrieving his phone, reviewing his notifications by rote memory until he, at last, reaches the newest messages from Caleb. It's simple, two texts not even a minute apart, sent shortly after seven this morning.

Caleb Good morning, Schatz.

Caleb I shall miss you today. Rest well.

Essek's heart races, enamoured with such a simple thing. His reply takes no thought to write, and he sends it without so much as a cursory review.

Essek I've missed you since you left last night.

As expected, he doesn't get an immediate reply. He's still disappointed and… perhaps he should tell Caleb how affected he still is. It's not subdrop; he doesn't get that far, especially not considering the amount of care Caleb had given him through out their day. It's more that he—

He's simply wildly in love with the man, and that's worse.

[imnotsorryforanyofthis]

Quirkless Advantage

Chapter three: Aizawa

Warning: lots and lots of cussing.....

———

These chapters are going to be stupid and short. Enjoy reading!

———

"Wait... so, Aizawa is going to have custody of me?" I ask Tsukauchi and All Might. "Yes," they both say at the same time.

Great, I'm going to be an older Eri for the time being.

"Does he know that I know basically the future of this world?" I ask and All Might stands up, "No, so you can't say anything to him. All he knows is that your parents have died and you have nowhere else to go." "Doesn't that sound sort of sketchy? I mean, why does he have custody of me? Why can't you?" I ask, pointing to him. "She does have a point. We can tell him the truth," he says, shocking Tsukauchi. "I don't think that's a good idea. We can say that she's in a situation where she needs protection, which is true, but we cannot give him any more information."

"We will only tell the higher ups and possibly Nezu." Tsukauchi continues and I stand up shocked.

Is everyone here just going to stand up because they heard something shocking? I guess so.

"Wait, why does the principal from UA need to know about this?" "Because Aizawa is a teacher at UA and has custody, you are going to school there. I believe that the principal should know everything about you," Tsukauchi says. "Why there? Don't you have to have a quirk? I don't even know if I have a quirk or not. Oh my god! What if I have a quirk?! That would be terrifying but sort of cool at the same time," I say getting excited.

"Ok, ok, just calm down. We will figure out if you have a quirk or not. Right now we need to introduce you to Aizawa and get you ready for when school starts." All Might says and starts to walk to the door. "See ya, Tsukauchi," he says, opening the door and gesturing towards me to follow him out.

Woah, I could totally turn that into something dirty. Yes, please da - ok I'll stop.

We walk towards the street and I see a taxi that is already waiting for us. The ride is quiet but not awkward. The car stops at an apartment complex and we step out. We walk up the stairs and stop at the fourth door on the second floor. Before All Might gets to knock on the door he quickly puffs up to his hero state. The door opens after a couple of minutes that seemed like forever.

A tall man with messy hair and a scruffy face is standing in the doorway looking straight at All Might. "Why me? Out of everyone here that could of done this, why the fuck me?" Aizawa asks, looking annoyed and slightly pissed.

Welp, this is not going to be fun....

"You know why," All Might starts, "This is who you are going to have custody over, Tsuna Sasaki." Aizawa doesn't even give a glance at me. He stares down All Might for a couple of seconds and closes his eyes. He slowly opens them and sighs, stepping aside letting us in.

"Wow, this is a lot cleaner than I imagined it would be." I say looking around and All Might gives me a look. "Sorry," I shrug, hoping Aizawa didn't hear me. "What are you two talking about?" Aizawa asks, shutting the door and turning around to face us with a confused look on his face.

All Might and I look at each other. "Oh, nothing," we say at the same time.

"Uh... ok then. Your room is down that hallway on the right and the bathroom is straight down it." Aizawa says finally looking at me.

His eyes are oddly soft looking at me and when he turned back to All Might, he hardened them again.

Weird, but ok.

"Tsuna," All Might begins, "Why don't you go into your room and get some sleep. I'm going to talk to Aizawa for a while." "Ok," I say walking down the hallway. I stop at the door on the right and open the door. I step in and look around, "It's actually pretty decent sized." I shut the door and went straight to my bed. I sit down and take off my shoes. "I guess I'll actually do what someone says for once and go to sleep," I say getting back up to turn the light off.

After a few seconds, I fell asleep quickly. It really only felt like I slept for a couple of minutes.

Ugh, I fucking hate when that happens.

Anyways, I literally roll out of bed, by accident... sort of, and hit the ground hard, "Oh fuck, that hurts." I get up off the floor and walk to the door. I hesitate to open it because I have no fucking clue what to say to that very hobo-like attractive man. Yeah, I'm not ashamed to admit it.

Suddenly that man opens his door, "We need to go get your school uniform and some other clothes for you." I only nod and turn back around to put my shoes back on. He stands leaning against the doorway, "Look, I'm sorry for yesterday. I don't really like when people just throw things on me all of the sudden." I nod again because I'm way to fucking nervous to talk to that intimidating fine man.

We walk out of the apartment and down the stairs to a car. He opens the passenger door for me and walks to the other side of the car. He gets into the car and I follow. The car ride is quiet until we stop and park in a parking lot. I get out of the car and follow him to the large building.

Holy woah, this is the mall where Shigaraki basically tried to figure out if he was a shitty leader or not when he was talking to Midoriya.... Which he sort of is... he's very childish.

Aizawa surprisingly bought a lot of things for me. Honestly, I thought he would only buy a few necessary things.

We get back into the car and drive back to his apartment. We get out of the car and drag all of the bags up stairs. Aizawa opens the door and puts all of the clothes in the washing machine. I pick up the rest of the bags and bring them into my room.

Hairbrush, toiletries.. You know girl things, new shoes, school supplies, school shoes, backpack, and just random things I didn't even need but Aizawa still offered to buy. He's pretty quiet but it's not terribly awkward. It's a little because I have to live here but it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I just realized we didn't have breakfast.... Well, lunch was good, so was dinner. I need to stop eating so much anyway, so I guess not eating breakfast is a good thing.

There's a knock at the door and I get up off of my bed. I open the door and see Aizawa there holding the now clean clothes from earlier. I take them away from him and set them on the bed. "Tsuna," Aizawa starts and I look over at him. "Goodnight," he says awkwardly. "Goodnight," I say to him and he nods his head going into his room.

I think that was the first time I actually spoke out loud to him.

---

Here is the link to all of the chapters

Link to next: Chapter four: Quirk

[elibabayblog]

"I love you and only you"

You looked down at your phone for the fourth time, tears covering the screen of your phone. You see the picture of you and Chris kissing. It was your date that he had taken you on the night before.

That ugly bitch? Chris doesn't love her, she with him for his money

Eww, look at her, look at the ways she is all over him🤢

Chris is too good for her🥱

Even my dead dog has more chemistry than them🤮

Chris is amazing, you know she is raceist right?🤔

So many comments are directed at your weight. Yeah you were big but he loved it, or at least that what he told you. Now you were starting to doubt it. You lay in his bed in his shirt from the night before. He had worshipped your body from your head to your toes. You felt dirty. You got up and grabbed some clothes. You went into the bathroom and stripped down your clothes. You jumped in and all the thoughts washed away.

"Y/n I'm home," you hear Chris call.

"Okay, I'm in the shower," you tell back trying to hold back your tears.

You couldn't do this. You needed to break up with him. You knew he didn't love you, you couldn't even love yourself. Your eyes started to water again before you heard the door open to the bathroom.

"Hey, care if I join you?" He asks poking his head into the shower.

"Um, yeah, I would rather shower alone."

"Okay, no problem, I'll be waiting when you get out."

You hear the door close and start to cry again. Your head hurt from all the crying. You turned off the shower and got out. You dried off and got dressed. You checked the mirror before walking out.

"Hey, that was a long shower, do you feel cleaner?" He joked.

"Um yeah, very."

"Okay, come sit by me," he said gabbing your wrist.

You jacked it back from him.

"Chris I wanna break up," you say.

"What?"

"I want to break up."

"No you don't, that's the comments talking on our photo," he stood up walking over to you.

He cornered you on the wall. You refused to make eye contact with him because he was right.

"Look at me."

You didn't. His hand moved you your chin. Your head looked up but your eyes didn't.

"You love me, I know you do, and I know you know I love you. Stop doing this, stop trying to break us up. I'm never going to let it happen."

"Look, I know you don't love me. I just wanna be done with this already."

"No, you aren't leaving me, not until we talk this out."

"No."

"Yes."

You fold your arms, still refusing to look at him.

"I love you, I always will, did you even see the video I posted after you posted that picture?" He asked.

You finally made eye contact.

"I'm guessing not."

He moved and grabbed his phone pulling up the video. You watched with interest. He talked about how he hated his fan couldn't be nice to you. He said that he loved you and he wanted his fans to learn to be more inclusive with his partners. He told his fans how your body issues played a part in your relationship and how they bulled your for no rreason. He told them if they didn't have anything nice to say, try not saying anything.

"See, I love you and only you, now please join me in the shower." He smiled.

You smiled back at him, reassured that he wanted you. You grabbed his hand pulling him to the bathroom. Before you had a chance to step in, he kissed you.

"Tell me you love me."

"I love you." You smiled.

"Good, remember that."

[lazycats-stuff]

talia and bruce having a older son who “went missing ” but actually joined the court of owls . he’s become friends with a bunch of rouges and two face is like a dad to him. he lives with harley and ivy and sometimes selina and they just chaos. but he runs into batfam and damian just wants to kidnap him so he can have his brother back

Will do. Sorry for taking a while to write this. And sorry if this was too short, I tried to write more 😖 I'm thinking about a part 2, but I'm not sure. Should I?

Summary: Bruce and Talia had a son. But the problem is that he is missing and Talia and Bruce can't find him. That is, until one night that will change everything.

Warnings: Mentions of murder, but nothing explicit, the rouges being friends with (Y/N), Damian trying to kidnap (Y/N), Bruce being done with everything.

(Y/N) wiped his hands, opening the doors of the roof. He sighed as he watched over the city. He managed to kill his target, now it was time to call the cleaners up and he will be going to see Harvey. He didn't see the man in a while. The Court kept him busy. He made a quick call and off he went.

He ran from roof to roof, jumping and rolling. He was close to Harvey's place and he positioned himself to jumped trough the thankfully open window. He landed softly on the hard floor. He walked down the hall for a while before knocking on Harvey's door.

He entered the office, smiling at the man who smiled back.

" My boy, it's been a while! " Harvey said, bringing him into a hug.

" I know, the Court made me busy. " (Y/N) replied, releasing the man.

" How are you? Are you injured? " Harvey asked quickly.

" I'm not injured, I am way to talented to get injured. "

Harvey chuckled, knowing it was true. (Y/N) was a good assassin. Quick and fast on his feet.

" Are you here for long? "

" No, I made a promise to Harley and Ivy that we would have a sleepover. And they told me to get back as soon as possible. "

" Are you hungry? I can make you something quickly. "

" I am slightly, but like I said, I will sleep at Harley's. I'm sure she ordered some pizza. "

" You need something other than pizza. "

(Y/N) shrugged, brushing off the comment. Pizza is life.

" Okay, fine, pizza is enough. "

(Y/N) smiled at Harvey, approving of the comment.

Harvey gave him a hug, saying goodbye. The boy was like a son to him and he doesn't spend enough time with him. He needs to talk with Pamela and Harley about this.

" I will come to visit you in a few days. "

And after a quick hug, he jumped out the window office, managing to swing himself up to the roof. From there he ran once more. He sighed in relief when he go to the Botanical Gardens. He went to the building where Harley and Poison Ivy lived.

(Y/N) was finally happy for Harley. She left the Joker after being abused for so long. From what he has heard, she beat him so heard that he was out of action for a few months so to speak. And he was glad.

He climbed down from the roof through the window that was conveniently left open. He slid in the living room, where Harley was waiting on the couch.

" Hello my little owl! We had made some pizza for you and sit down, no wait, do you need to change? " She fired question after question, not letting him answer.

Pamela gave him a sympathetic smile, knowing that he just needed to crash.

" Hun, let him go to his room. We got you some clean clothes. Take a shower too if you want too. "

(Y/N) nodded, walking towards the room. He sometimes lived here, almost like a third roommate, but that 3rd roommate doesn't pay rent, shows up bloody from time to time and just tired in general. But that wasn't anything new in Gotham. Gotham people aren't even fazed at anything at this point.

He changed from his court of Owls suit. Once he took the the top off, he looked at his arms. No bruises tonight it seems. Good. He took everything off and went into the bathroom. They turned the heating on here. Aw. (Y/N) didn't like cold and he was generally cold most of the time.

He got into the shower and let the warm water. He sighed in pleasure as the warm water washed over his body. It felt heavenly. He quickly washed his hair and body and changed into fresh clothes. He took a towel to dry his hair and then threw it in the laundry bin. Pizza sounds great now. He didn't really eat anything before he left to kill his target.

" Here is your slice. Come on, sit here. Harley wants to watch movies." Pamela said, but something was off.

" Please tell me it isn't action. "

Pamela looked away for a moment and (Y/N) sighed. No. Everything in those movies was unreal and stupid. He always ends up criticizing the moves and unrealistic stuff.

Always.

" Harley, tell me why I have to watch this shit? " (Y/N) asked, huffing.

" Because your commentary is great. You can always shed a light on Hollywood stunts and what doesn't look real. I watched a lot of movies where people's mental health was misrepresented. " Harley said, smiling. But there was something else behind that smile.

" What did you do? " (Y/N) asked, moving closer to Pamela. Pamela raised her eyebrow, confused. What did her girlfriend do?

" Whatever do you mean? "

Pamela sighed. She did something.

" Shit. " (Y/N) muttered, rubbing his forehead. Oh no. The doorbell rang and (Y/N) tensed up. Harley jumped up from the couch and (Y/N) wanted to stop her. It's never a good idea to open the door like that. This is Gotham for the love of God.

" Selina! " Harley screamed and (Y/N) relaxed. Okay, it's Catwoman. Whew.

" (Y/N), my little owl! Harley didn't say you were going to be here! " Selina exclaimed happily, quickly bringing her favorite into a hug.

" I wanted to surprise you. " Harley said, moving to sit on Pamela's lap.

" Well, none the less, I brought some face masks. "

(Y/N) groaned as the girls laughed. Oh God.

Few days later, he went to Harvey. There was a problem while he was working, well killing. He got ambushed by familiar assassin. His mother's assassins. Did his mother found him? That can't be. He made sure that it looked liked like he went missing. Maybe it wasn't his mother, but his father?

(Y/N) shook his head. No... Bruce would go after him himself. What is he going to do now?

He rolled his shoulder that was probably dislocated or bruised. He can't do this. He can't go back to live with either of them. He can't. He just can't. There is a reason why (Y/N) joined the Court of Owls.

Talia cursed as she got a call from one of her assassins. (Y/N) escaped and even managed to evade her assassins. He was taught well after all. The limo that she was driving in stopped in front of the manor. She gave Bruce a call about (Y/N). Bruce was quickly outside waiting for her already. He was nervous, fearing the info.

" Hello beloved. I have news. " Talia said, moving past Bruce inside of the manor.

" You should call Damian too. "

Bruce didn't need to. The four boys showed up, and everyone was tense and on guard, but Damian. He knew that his mother wouldn't attack them.

" What is happening? " Jason asked.

" You know about Damian's brother (Y/N)? The one that went missing? " Bruce said, rubbing his forehead.

The boys nodded, confused. They knew the basics of (Y/N)'s story, but nothing in detail.

" Talia found him. Her assassins tried to get him, but he escaped and evaded them. "

" And that's not all. " Talia said, making everyone look at her.

" He joined the Court of Owls. I recognized the uniform he was wearing. "

Bruce was shocked to say the least. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. No. Oh no.

" So what do we do? " Jason asked.

" We find him and bring him here. " Damian said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

" Okay, we can't just kidnap him- " Dick started, trying to come up with a non violent solution.

" Well you can't, but I can. " Damian said.

" But you do need a plan. " Talia said.

Damian mumbled something beneath his breath. Bruce knew that it wasn't something good. But Talia was right. If they wanted to bring (Y/N) back, they would need to make a plan. A good one.

(Y/N) was paranoid. For the last couple of days, he was constantly watching his back. Maybe he needs to leave Gotham? But where? Mexico? Canada? Somewhere in Europe? Asia? Australia?

No, not Australia. Spiders and snakes.

" What am I going to do? " (Y/N) asked himself as he was standing on the roof. He couldn't stay with anybody tonight. He was going to crash with them during the day.

He just needs to survive the night. He needs to. He can do this.

" Hello brother. "

(Y/N) slowly turned around. Damian the rest of the family was there.

" Not happening. " (Y/N) said, before jumping off of the roof.

He heard footsteps behind him. He can't stop now, he needs to lose them now. He managed to throw Tim off. He could only hope to throw the rest off.

He was proven wrong when Damian threw them both down onto a random rooftop. They both groaned before managing to rise up to their feet.

" Why did you join the Court of Owls? " Damian asked, completely calm. (Y/N) glared at Damian, refusing to answer.

" You don't need to know that. "

(Y/N) looked back, seeing a building. It was still in construction, he could hide there. He managed to jumped there just in time. He landed softly before moving through the holes through the floor.

He listened to the possible noise that they could make. He held his breath as he managed to escape. He put a scarf over the bottom part of his face and the pulling a cap out of his pocket to put it on his head. He needs to get somewhere.

Somewhere away from here. He closed his eyes for a moment. No. No emotions tonight. Only pure logic.

[luveline]

𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 | 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary Sirius overhears something he shouldn't at a party and has to make a leap of faith before the Marauders start the second leg of their tour. [3k]

warnings rockstar!sirius x shy!reader friends to lovers, fem!reader, soft!sirius, cw mentions of drugs and alcohol, first kiss, mutual pining (a little), fluff, hurt/comfort, confessions, sirius being hot? remus appears and is cute, requested here

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Sirius Black's London flat is terrifying for a number of reasons. One being that everything within it costs more than you'll make in twelve months and you're on the ditzier side. Another reason, and maybe your biggest, is that it's usually fucking filthy and/or inhabited by girls that are much, much prettier than you. 

You don't bother knocking. Sirius had given you a key a very long time ago, citing that his 'best girl' should come and go as she pleases. 

You're amazed at the sight before you. 

It's cleaner than it's ever been. The room smells of dewberry and fresh linens. A window has been thrown open and lets in a much needed breeze, though this high it might be considered more than a breeze. The grand piano looks as new as the day it arrived, shining ebony wood clean of any suspicious powders or plastic cups.

You let your bag fall to the floor. 

"Siri? The strangest thing has happened," you announce loudly into the room, hoping he can hear you from wherever it is that he is. "Somebody has done a reverse burglary in here." 

When Sirius appears in the doorway of the bathroom you're shocked. You haven't seen him in a while; he's famous now – you feel lucky to be in the same city as him, let alone the same room. He looks totally different from last time. 

He looks… kind of like he used to. 

It makes your heart hurt. 

"Hey, pretty baby." 

You roll your eyes and find them flared wide when he's suddenly on you, picking you up and hugging you tight enough to make your ribs ache. 

"You look lovely," he adds as he pulls away.

It makes you laugh. Sirius is sweet to every girl he's ever met. It doesn't phase you. In fact, you love to be doted on, especially by him. 

You hold his biceps in your hands. "Sirius, what about you? You look- you look really good." 

You raise your hand to his cheek tentatively and give him a little pinch. His skin is supple and smooth between your fingertips. 

He pulls your hand from his face, quick but not cruel. "I thought about what you said, last time. Been doing some spring cleaning."  

You squint. "What did I say?"

"Well, you didn't say it to me." 

You feel your heart start to pound, worried you've said something mean. "I don't…" You take a step back. 

"You, uh, you asked Remus if he thought I was partying too hard." 

Your eyes go wide. That wasn't exactly what you said. He's kind for not repeating the rest. 

Remus had been sitting with you at a party Sirius invited you to. You'd lost the pleasure of his company a half hour before and maybe had too much to drink, but you couldn't help it. It was scary being around famous people. You needed a shot or two or five before you could even look at anyone that wasn't a Marauder. 

Anyhow, you'd let yourself lean into Remus' side, a dejected pout on your lips. 

"What's eating you?" he asked over the rim of his drink. 

Your eyes searched for Sirius unsuccessfully. "He didn't look very well." 

"He didn't," he agreed.

"Do you think he's partying too hard?" 

Remus chuckled. "Absolutely he is." 

You picked at your nails. 

"Don't worry about him, Y/N. Seriously. He's a big boy." And, when you hadn't perked up, "I'm looking after him, too. He's my best mate, I won't let him make a fool of himself." 

You'd frowned wide and covered your eyes with one hand. "I miss him." 

"Oh, Y/N," Remus muttered, sounding pitying and completely out of his element. He'd laid a well-meaning but awkward hand on your shoulder. 

"I know that's not fair," you said, high strung.

"I think it's more than fair." 

You sniffled behind your hand. "No, it's not fair. I should be happy that he's happy, and I am, but it's so weird to never see him. And when I do see him, I feel like an idiot because I don't know him." 

Dramatic, sure. Drunk, very much so. You can't remember what you'd said after that but Sirius had heard it all, evidently. 

"It's okay," Sirius says now. "It's more than okay. You were right, I was partying too hard. I feel better." 

"Yeah?" you ask, not sure what part you're asking him to reassure you on. 

"Definitely. My liver, too. And my kidney. All of me." 

You step closer to him hesitantly. Sirius is more than used to this and his patience puts you at ease, makes you feel comfortable enough to do things like this as you rake your fingers through his hair. 

"You cut it." 

"Was getting a little long." 

"I don't know, it suited you. Can you still wear it up?" 

"Sure, just like our school days. I thought… I mean, I wanted to be me again." 

You thread your fingers slowly through his hair and look at his collar rather than his face, afraid to make eye contact. He's dialed his assortment of necklaces and chains to just two: the necklace with his brother's intinitals and the chain he'd received from Euphemia for his twenty-first. 

"I didn't mean it," you say in a rush.

"I think you did." He chucks your chin with his knuckle. When you lift your head he's grinning. "You want a drink? Or are you hungry? I made spanakopita." 

Sirius is giving you an out because he knows how wound up this conversation will make you. Right now, surprisingly, you want to say no and get it over with because it's like a plaster that needs to be ripped off, but you don't have the wherewithal. 

"You made spanakopita?" Your startled pleasure is evident. 

"Yeah, I knew you'd like that one. C'mon, let's get some food into you." 

You sit at his too big dining table with an array of steaming plates between you, giggling as Sirius recounts his pasta making disaster. 

"I guess I was out of practice. I don't remember it taking so long." 

"Right, you used to whip it up in an hour." 

"Try three. You're lucky I like you." 

Your fork scratches across your plate and you cringe. Sirius chews and sets down his cutlery, wiping his hands on a nearby tea towel to take your empty glass to the countertop and make you another. 

It's awkward, the weight of what's unspoken hanging over your heat, but it's also nice. You really did miss him. 

Nausea rises abruptly. Self loathing, always feeling so selfish and silly for missing him when he's right here. He's never not answered the phone in the years you've known him, never taken more than a few hours to text you back no matter where he is. He's a good friend. He sends you fucking on-stage selfies. 

Even so, you're living different lives. You're not jealous (though you wondered a lot at first if you were, when the band started headlining and charting and the media had just eaten them up). You're mostly content. 

He sets your new drink back down and tucks in his chair. Despite the length of cherry wood between you he feels closer than he has in months. 

"Thanks for coming over," he says. 

You swallow a mouthful so fast it burns. "Yeah, you're welcome," you say, rolling your eyes.

"What? What does that mean?" he asks, laughing. 

"I should be saying thanks. How many hair adverts did you cancel to be here?" 

"Just the one," he says slowly. There's a sparkle to his gaze that lets you know he's joking.

You spear another forkful of cheese and pastry. "Good thing. That's unfair advertising. You've always had nice hair, even when you used three in one."

He leans forward. "You have food here-" He gestures to the corner of his mouth. 

You burn with embarrassment and look down to your plate, wiping at your face with the back of your hand. "D'I get it?" 

"No," he says. 

Sirius stands and rounds the table. You turn to him and let him take your face into one hand, fingers holding your chin in place as he wipes at the corner of your lip. He slows, his thumb sliding from your mouth to your cheek to trace absent-minded circles.

"I think you got it," you murmur.

He spreads his entire hand over your cheek, his palm aflame. "You know you're important to me," he says. 

You feel frozen. Time stretches, the tick of a clock somewhere you can't see, the shushing sound of his thumb over your cheek, his breathing – soft, slow.

"I know," you say weakly. 

"I don't ever want to be someone you think you don't know. It actually scared the fuck out of me, that I might be a stranger to you." 

You curl your fingers around his wrist on impulse. "I was really drunk," you say, brows furrowing. 

"Was it true?" he asks. 

You can't answer. You won't lie, and saying yes feels too big. He nods and pulls his hand from your face only to turn it and caress your skin with his knuckles lightly enough to tickle, his rings a cold ridge. 

"It's okay," Sirius says, his lips stretched onto a grimace. "I get it. I let everything get really crazy." 

"You earned this," you argue. 

"I got lucky." 

"You know that's not true." 

"Maybe half." 

His eyes flit down to the floor and his knuckles crawl across your jawline, a back and forth. You've a thousand feelings and none of them are platonic, a million as he smiles some more and laughs, really laughs, a warm sound that you've missed sorely. And again you feel that shame for missing him at all, because he's right there.

"This is harder than I thought," he says under his breath.

"I missed you," you admit. An olive branch.

"I missed you. I miss you." 

You reach for his waist and he lets himself get pulled in, your arms wrapping around him, your face pressed greedily to his abdomen. He hugs your shoulders without saying anything else, hands making slow and smooth lines over your t-shirt. 

He rubs your shoulders, grip a short fall from bruising. "I have something to ask you," he says eventually.

"Oh, so you're buttering me up?" You attempt a light joviality, tilting your head back to look into his face, your chin digging into his torso. 

He cups the back of your neck. Your heart beats as fast as a mouse's, your legs squeezed together tight. This is more than his usual tactility. 

"I heard you crying," he starts, words that might appear lazy in their pace to anyone who doesn't know him, his eyes hot where they bare down into yours. He squeezes your neck lightly. "And it was over me. I'm- I'm good at upsetting people, I always have been, and I've hurt you before. I know I have." 

"It doesn't matter," you say quietly. It doesn't. 

"I don't want you to miss me. I don't want to be someone you don't know," he repeats. "So I want you to come with me." 

Your smile fades. 

His hand climbs to your face, his thumb to your jaw and his fingers under your ear. "You know I'm leaving tomorrow night for Memphis. I want you to come. No more- no more parties. No more girls."  

"No more girls?" you ask. You don't know what you want him to say, but you want something. It doesn't feel right – Sirius Black wants to go on the straight and narrow?

"Just you. If you'll come," he says, sounding about as nervous as you've ever heard him.

"Just me?" 

"I need you." 

You bite your lip, thinking it over. 

"What will I do?" 

"What do you mean?" he asks. 

"What will I do? I'm not a rockstar, Siri. And I'm never gonna be a groupie." Not because groupies aren't dedicated and cherished, but because you don't have the proclivity for it. You can barely talk to people you don't know.

"My shy girl," he murmurs, leaning down, your faces growing ever closer. "I know that. You won't have to do anything you don't want to. You can sightsee, or you- you could stay in the hotel all day and read your books. I'm not asking you to follow me across the country and wait on me." 

"What are you asking me?" 

"To be with me?" he asks. There's an almost undetectable rise in the tone of his voice. 

"I'm with you," you say. It doesn't matter where he is. 

He brings both hands to your face, bent at the waist, your faces a few inches apart and the distance decreasing by the millisecond. 

"You're really gonna make me spell it out?" 

Yes, you think. Of course I am. This is so far from our realm of reality right now, and you're touching me, and you look like you want to kiss me. I won't embarrass myself by assuming the wrong thing.

He must gather the hint. You cover his hand with yours and wait for it, the culmination of unbearable tension, the string taut between you. 

"I want you to be my girlfriend. I want you to come with me to fucking Memphis, sit pretty everywhere we go. I don't care what you do. Whatever you want." His smile is aching. He gives your head a little shake with each sentence. "I need you to come with me. I'm sick of doing this without you."

You blink. "You've never even kissed me." 

Sirius has game. He's a total lady killer. You've at no time seen him get rejected by anybody that wasn't Lily Evans, and still he flounders. 

You're internally begging him to ask if he can because you're pretty sure you'll say yes. Your eyes dart to his lips. 

"Will you come with me?" he asks steadily.

"To 'fucking Memphis'?" you tease with little infection. You're not nearly as steady as he was.

He nods. "And everywhere after that, too." 

"Can I think it over?" you whisper, lifting your chin until you can feel his breath on your lips. 

"No." He strokes the side of your nose with his as your eyes close, his lips a quarter inch away. You swear you can feel their heat. 

"I'll come to Memphis." You inhale loudly. "And- and I won't haunt the hotel rooms, I'll stand on the side stage. With all the other girlfriends." 

His breath quivers.

Your smile mirrors his as he connects your lips, a giggle bubbling up in your throat before you can stop it. It's a shockingly soft kiss. Sirius is careful, his lips parting slightly with a silent laugh all his own. 

You reach into his hair and push it away from his face, hands braced at his neck and full of lovely dark curls to hold him in place. 

His thumb carves a line down your cheek like a teardrop. 

"Stop smiling," he whispers pleadingly. 

You can't. You push your lips to his and he draws closer, pulling your face towards him gently. You start to rise from your chair and he breaks the kiss, your lips left tingling and wanting for another as you sit back down. 

You open your eyes curiously as Sirius pushes his knee onto the chair. There's not nearly enough room but you make it work. 

"You really are pretty, baby," he says. His hand strokes your face. You close your eyes again in anticipation of another kiss and find his lips against your cheek, his forehead pressing to yours gently. He smells like his spanakopita: flour, fresh dough, earthy greens. Under that he smells homey. Familiar.

His lips skip over your skin as he says, "You're coming with me." 

"Memphis. Everywhere after," you promise.

"Everywhere…" He kisses your ear.

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thanks for reading! | my masterlist

[bye-bye-firefly]

lovefool!

After a series of unfortunate events that include getting hospitalized, getting fired, and getting evicted, Kokichi Oma finds himself as a house cleaner living with his employer.

And maybe his boss is a bit too charming for him to keep up professionalism. God, kill him now.

(if you are wondering where the link is, the title is a hyperlink, not an underline!)

Some quotes under the cut! I'll update this as the fic gets longer!

Even though they didn't know each other- shit, Kokichi didn't even know his first name- he was such a welcoming presence. Something about him made you want to trust him. Yet, Kokichi didn't really know much about him. Not that Saihara knew more about Kokichi. That was what kept it interesting, though. Saihara already knew he was a...well, a jokester. A bit of a jester. A comedian, maybe. A politician! A liar.

– Chapter 1

When Saihara came to pick him up, he got out of the car to help him with his stuff. He placed boxes in the trunk and managed to stuff everything inside even when Kokichi was sure he wasn't going to be able to. Once he was in the passenger seat, Saihara started driving and let them sit in silence for a little bit. Then, he popped the question: "You did get home, didn't you?" Kokichi grinned as much as he could and said, "Sometimes, a home doesn't want someone. Don't you know that, Saihara?" He frowned and nodded. After another minute of silence passed between them, he said, "I'm sorry about that." Kokichi wanted to start crying again. Instead, he said, "Well, you don't have to be sorry. You didn't throw me out."

– Chapter 1

"Any thoughts about what you want to do next?" "Either...go homeless or find someone on Craigslist who wants roommates. Hopefully a murderer, you know? I've never roomed with a murderer before. Might be fun!" Laughing, Saihara covered his mouth with a gloved hand and said, "Maybe you'll get two jobs." "What'll that be?" "Cleaning here, and cleaning the bathroom when he's done." Kokichi grinned and giggled as he ate. "Maybe I should live with you." "'Cause you think I'm a murderer?" "Ooo, I didn't, but now that you say it..." That made Saihara laugh even more and he shook his head as he calmed down. "I'd be glad to have you." "Me, too." Then he realised what he had just auto-responded with and said, "Uh, I'd be glad to...be here." "I get it," he reassured him, but he was still smiling like it was funny. "B-But, it's not professional, so I don't think we should," Kokichi added. "Uh-huh." "I'm glad you agree." "I don't, but I am saying that I hear you."

– Chapter 1

[yushox]

WINGS

Quackity wakes up one day with this horrible itchy feeling on his back, with something liquidy running down the already sticky feeling skin.

The feeling is horrible and alarming.

Looking at his bed he nearly empties his stomach, instantly recognizing the liquids of a bad infection, also most of his feathers have fallen off in his sleep.

Panic sets in quickly and he is quick to grab his phone. Racking through his brain why he grabbed it.

Finally he remembers a private little comment, a promise from certain someone.

He punches in the number, hoping it still will work.

A couple of rings pass by.

"Hey Q, didn't think you would ever call me-"

"I don't have time for chitchat, do you still have the Las Nevadas chip I gave you and told you to never show it to anyone?"

"Yeah man, you sound sick.."

"Well, yeah, I am... really really sick. I need help with something. And I would only trust another winged person with something like this."

"Don't tell me you're in he-"

"I'm not, I'm actually genuinely ill... please use that chip as proof that you can visit and get one of my people to escort you to my room... please hurry, I'm panicking really bad right now."

"Okay man, I'll see you in about half an hour away, im pretty far away right now so please try to be patient.. I'll help you."

"Thank you..." he hangs up, he never thought he would ever let that person in his country. But he'd rather avoid seeking out Philza if he can avoid it.

His phone pings "I sent Tommy your way, he's closer and has better knowledge about medical stuff, don't worry, he's winged too. I'll hurry as fast as I physically can, but right now I am held back by a pretty big herd so I had to send tom."

"Okay. okay... does he know... about my past, about what you know?" he asks.

"Filling him in as we speak. Apparently he's experienced something bad with wings too, so he can comfort you and will understand you.... oh.. it involves dream, its always dream huh... fuck, cant talk anymore!.. see you in a little bit!"

The response comforts him. Inadvertently his hate towards Dream increases just at the implications that the mad did something to Tommy's wings.

Someone knocks "Sir, Saint Tommy is visiting."

"Let him in.." and Tommy walks in with a medical bag and everything "why do you look like you saw a ghost and were on the run?"

"Doesn't matter, but I will say that you have really good defenses. Also "Saint Tommy"? Really?"

Smiling he continues the conversation as the young adult gets his medical stuff ready "Thanks. Also yeah, felt like you needed a good title to be known by in my lands. Didn't want to use something like sir or someshit, saint seemed cooler."

"Cool, lets go to the bathroom and let the cleaners change your sheets." the younger speaks seriously.

"Okay doc," he stands and goes to the bathroom while Tommy instructs the cleaners on how to clean up the bed properly.

Soon Tommy walks into the room as well and gets the nearby stool "Take off your shirt and sit down, I need to see how bad the infection is."

He does as told and hisses at the little pokes at his wings "When did you become a doctor? Do you even have any certificates?"

"Big Q, I can't even read in the first place, what certification do you think I could ever get. Nah, I just forced Techno, Phil and Wilbur to read me biology and medical books instead of fairy tales as bedtime stories. I was obsessed with that shit. I've practiced alot of stuff on animals and myself alot. treating you will definitely be a breeze." the blonde laughs.

Tommy stops poking "Looks like a regular old dead limb necrosis, it's surprising it hasn't gone to this stage sooner. But you were smart about calling for help. Any longer and it would be a certain death. I'll just have to cut out the rotting parts... I have a bad feeling that your preening glands are also going to have to be removed. I'm unsure. All I need is your utmost consent to do these procedures."

"Erm, I assume bedrest..?"

"Nahh, I'll wash and desinfect the wounds at the end and then hold them close while drenching them with some regen. I don't want you to be forced to sleep on your stomach for days on end, besides I'm sure neither of us can afford to be on bedrest anyways."

For a few seconds it's silent as he thinks.

"You don't have to tell me anything Tom... but, can I see what that bastard did to your wings?"

"Oh, no I'm fine telling you. He kinda ripped them out along with the muscles and everything. Didn't clean the wounds just dumped alot of regen into them and left. I barely managed making a good enough antibiotic, had to rely on natural ingredients too. But my back has been fucked up ever since in all kinds of ways. There's more, way more than just that, but I want to talk to Wilbur about everything first."

"Fucking hell man... yeah, ofcourse, as long as you trust Will I won't stop you, just be careful."

"Ofcourse, anyways lets start the procedure. This will certainly hurt alot, but you are strong enough so."

---

After it's all said and done, Tommy helps Quackity go back to the bed. The younger walks out of the door and a much olde man walks in "Hey Q..."

"Hey asshole.."

They smile to eachother painfully, for once not finding it in them to yell and argue. The silence is comforting and familiar.

Q looks at the feathers collected and put into a box by his cleaners per Tommys instructions.

He picks one out, fading love pheromones still clinging to it.

Without a single word spoken he hands it to Wilbur. He will never say those words out loud again, not wanting to jinx it after getting his heart broken so many times.

Wilbur accepts the feather and pulls his only wing out, carefully preening the gifted feather into his own feathers. He silently pulls out a love feather of his own and sits besides Q.

"I don't have wings dumbass..."

He just chuckles and gently preens his feather into the shorter mans hair.

Quackity stares into Wilburs eyes, their faces coming close to one another.

And Quackity is the one who breaks the distance, crashing his lips into Wilburs.

Wilbur easily lets it happen, falling backwards and letting the other get on top. He notices the worried question in the charcoal haired mans eye "You're not Sally Q. You can never compare to her... I trust you."

Q smiles and puts his lips against Wilburs once more.

Together they create the true colors of Las Nevadas.

Wilbur raises his hand and slowly, carefully touches Quackitys scars, both of them discovering that the mans preening glands are still intact by the sudden bite into Wilburs neck.

Neither talk through the night, but they certainly will not forget the warmth they shared.

---

Days later Quackity walks into a important meeting, Wilburs feather proudly displayed in his hair.

Someone asks if he and Wilbur are an item.

"No" is his only answer. But in private, his heart, while still shattered and bleeding, has found it's final home.

[lnholt]

A message from the stay-at-home parent:

Let's start by saying thank you for the opportunity to stay at home, allowing us to be there for our children, watching them grow while you provide most if not all of the income for our family.

But let's not forget what we do at home is still work without a paycheck; every day, we are the caretakers, cooks, cleaners, therapists, playmates, and principle for our children. Staying at home can feel like groundhogs day, with some days a diaper blowout thrown into the mix; we wake up most days at the same time because the children are awake.

We cook them food, and if we are lucky, they will eat what we have made, on the plate we put it on and the selected surface. If any of these do not make the child happy, we try again (most of the time). While doing this, we either think about making some coffee, or we have made it, and now it is cold, so reheat or drink it because deep down, we know it will just get cold again.

Then there is activity time and diaper or potty time, running around trying to give our child a fun day, but not every day is fun; there are the tantrums, the crying because we said to clean up, or the anger because we said no candy for lunch, the baby is needing to be fed after they just ate one minute ago to just throwing it all up on you.

Now, after some time, it's lunchtime, breakfast all over again but with maybe a different food, then realizing we haven't even gone to the bathroom yet. We have had to for the last few hours, and we try to go, but either the child who learned to open the door is now in the bathroom with us or the baby is crying, so hurry and get back out there.

Nap time sounds good about now, and maybe make some food for our us to eat; we rock the child lay them down, we know they are tired, leave the room as quietly as we can, go to the kitchen or start to make something or begin to eat what the child has left on the plate to only hear the napping child is not napping and is now crying/ screaming, so lunch break is cut short.

After some time, a nap is over activity again, sit on the sofa for a moment to get pulled into playing or breathe for a five-minute break most of the time while holding the baby. Look at the clock and realize its almost time for you to get off work, see the house isn't clean, dinner is not started, still, need to go to the bathroom, the child wants a snack, the baby is crying for more milk, an exclusively pumping mama has to sit and take the time to pump the milk ( all day long ) or latch baby, or make the bottle.

This day is only one of the many possibilities because there are sick kid days, sick parent days, school work, possible work-from-home jobs, and there is so much more being done with the children than mentioned here.

Incomes the spouse to only assume we have done nothing all day or had plenty of time to cook, clean, or take a shower. When the reality is yes, we might have had an extra fifteen minutes today, but that was used to sit and breathe or take a sip of that stale cold coffee and call another adult for some adult interaction.

Because when you come home, you are tired and don't want to talk, so that takes away from your interaction with an adult; you also want and deserve to decompress.

Still, please remember you got to drive to work alone, go to the bathroom alone, sit and maybe have lunch, drove back home alone, we woke up to our job and never left our job, go to sleep at our job and wake up to start it all over most of the time seven days a week, no holiday or sick days allowed.

Please know we appreciate and love our jobs, but just like you at your job, it doesn't always mean it's always easy or fun to be at every day.