#anyway this is also my way of saying all i'm doing on a friday afternoon is napping

[typhoonvash]

It is a Friday afternoon and all Vash can think about is whatever he's dreaming of.

[theostrophywife]

azúcar.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: baby by madison beer.

author's note: benjamin being active on tiktok is dangerous for my health. i actually feel like i'm about to crawl on the ceiling from how badly i want this man. literally tweaking. anyways, enjoy 😊

There were a lot of quidditch related superstitions you were willing to put up with. 

Wearing the same socks during every match. Kissing your boyfriend good luck before every game. Even the rowdy common room parties that you and Mattheo often snuck out of to have a celebration of your own was a tradition you welcomed with open arms. 

But this was not one of them. 

“It’s absolutely absurd,” Pansy huffed, her sleek black hair grazing her chin as she tucked her legs underneath her on the velvet couch. “Blaise has lost his mind.” 

“Sounds like you’re the one losing it, Pans.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You would too if your boyfriend suddenly announced a sex ban as part of some weird quidditch superstition.” 

Since the start of the season, the quidditch team had taken a few hits. Usually, the boys dominated the other houses, but they barely won against Hufflepuff and came to a draw against Ravenclaw during the last game. Ending in a tie was apparently the last straw because the day after the match, Blaise told Pansy that the team had taken a pact of celibacy. 

For some deranged reason, the boys believed that abstaining from sex for a week would help them secure a win for the rematch on Friday. For the next five days, they intended to sleep, breathe, and eat quidditch. Apparently, your feminine wiles would have to be set aside for the meantime. As if sex were the problem and not their constant drinking and partying, which probably contributed to their lack of focus as a whole. Not that the boys would listen to common sense at this point. 

You scoffed. “Please, Mattheo wouldn’t last a day without sex let alone a whole week.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Pansy said rather bitterly, picking at the cushion in her lap. “The lot of them are taking this entirely too seriously. Blaise won’t even allow himself to be in a room alone with me.”

”Well, Zabini has a surprising amount of self-control. Mattheo, on the other hand, is perpetually horny. There’s no way that he agreed to such a ridiculous pact.”

“Lucky you,” your best friend said with a long suffering sigh.

You nudged her knee with your foot and smiled mischievously. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m more than willing to help. Blaise may be disciplined, but he’s also just a man. What do you say we pop into the village? I think I saw a lace emerald lingerie set that had your name all over it.”

Pansy perked up at that. “I knew I came to the right person.”

Your best friend smiled as you hooked your arm through her elbow. “Of course you did. Now come on, let’s bring Zabini to his knees.” 

Sprawled out on Mattheo’s bed, you flicked through the pages of your novel and waited for your boyfriend to return from practice. The trip to Hogsmeade had been a complete success. Just as you suspected, the little set you glimpsed through the lingerie store window looked absolutely stunning on Pansy. Blaise didn’t stand a chance. 

As a matter of fact, you’d given the two of them privacy tonight. They were due for a study session at your shared dorm tonight, but you quietly slipped out in the midst of their heated argument about the Goblin Rebellion and happily skipped off to your boyfriend’s room. 

Given the late hour, Mattheo was due back any second now. As if summoning him from your thoughts alone, your boyfriend sauntered into the room, looking sweaty and sexy from running though drills all afternoon. Mattheo grinned the second he spotted you on his bed. 

“Hi, princesa,” he greeted, his voice low and husky. 

”Hi, Matty.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and smiled. “How was practice?” 

“Absolutely fucking brutal,” Mattheo grunted as he pulled off his shoes. “Theo clobbered the fuck out of me, but I suppose it’s better him than the Ravenclaws. Mark my words, we’re going to beat those twats come Friday.” 

“I don’t doubt it, babe.” You pushed off the mattress and scooted closer to him. 

Mattheo licked his lips as you neared, breath hitching as you brushed his damp curls off of his forehead. You smirked and leaned in for a kiss. At the last second, Mattheo turned sharply, causing the kiss to land on his cheek instead of his lips. 

“I’m all sweaty,” he explained. You quirked a brow. Sweat, dirt, and grime had never stopped the two of you before, but you brushed it off. He was probably just wound up about winning. Mattheo smiled apologetically and kissed your temple. “Let me shower first and then we can cuddle, okay?’ 

You made the mistake of looking into those big, brown eyes. Damn him and his chocolate eyed gaze. The twat knew it was your weakness. 

“Fine,” you said as you crawled underneath the covers. “But hurry up, I’m getting tired.” 

Ten minutes later, you were fully engrossed in your book again. Just as it reached a particularly steamy scene, the door swung open, revealing a half-naked Mattheo. The white towel wrapped precariously around his trim waist gave you a perfect view of his toned chest and ripped abs, beads of water clinging onto his glistening skin like rain drops. You bit your lip as he tugged on a clean pair of boxers over his legs, cocking your head to appreciate the curve of his arse before he slipped into his sweatpants. 

Unaware of your ogling, Mattheo climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around you. “What are you reading, mi amor?” 

“Nothing that can’t wait,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss your boyfriend.

This time, Mattheo gladly accepted the kiss. His lips slanted over yours, sighing softly as you melted into him. Your kisses were soft and sweet, punctuated by cute little pecks that had your boyfriend smiling against your mouth. You took the opportunity to slide your tongue against his, making Mattheo groan as his fingers slipped through your hair. 

“Damn, mami. You missed me that much?” 

You rolled your eyes at his cocky smirk while you climbed into his lap and straddled him. Mattheo gripped your hips, moaning as your lips latched onto his neck. His pretty brown eyes rolled back as you left a trail of kisses along the column of his throat. You raked your nails along his chest, dragging red lines down to his abs, and tracing his happy trail as he captured your lips once more. Mattheo let out a choked groan as you tugged at his waistband. To your surprise, he grabbed your wrist and blinked up at you. 

“Y/N…” Mattheo said breathlessly. “Maybe we should…maybe we should go to sleep.” His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he tried and failed to swallow his own words. 

You raised a brow and settled over his lap, squirming against his hard length as Mattheo bit his lip. “You want to go to sleep? Right now? While I’m on top of you and willing to do whatever you want?” 

Your boyfriend looked pained. Conflict was evident on his face. Without a word, Mattheo nodded. 

“Oh my god,” you blurted in disbelief. “You agreed to that stupid sex ban, didn’t you?”

Mattheo groaned. “Only for a week, love. We really need to win this match.” 

You scoffed. This was absolutely ridiculous. “I know you, Mattheo. You aren’t going to last a week.” 

“Hey! Have a little faith in me.” 

Rolling off of him, you crossed your arms against your chest. “First of all, you didn’t even ask me if I’d be okay with it.” 

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. With a shit-eating grin, Mattheo cocked his head at you. “It sounds to me like you’re the one who can’t last a week, princesa.” 

“Please,” you said with an eye roll. “I have my book boyfriends to keep me company. I can channel all my sexual energy into reading smut. You, on the other hand? You can’t even make it through class without dragging me into a broom closet.” 

Faster than you thought possible, Mattheo flipped you onto your back and pinned you to the mattress. A cocky smirk curved against his lips as he trailed them down your neck. “Oh?” he hummed, kissing the sweet spot just below your ear, his hand gripping the inside of your thigh, making you press your legs together to suppress the need. The bloody bastard. “But can your book boyfriends touch you like I can?” 

Channeling every ounce of self-control within you, a calm and unbothered expression clicked into place like a mask. You tugged at his curls, forcing him away from your neck. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, Matty. I’ll be just fine.” Mattheo released a choked groan when you palmed the front of his boxers. He twitched at your touch, his cock painfully hard. “Looks like you’re not doing too hot, though. Let me know if you need help. You know I’d be more than happy to give you relief, baby.” 

Mattheo cursed under his breath as his own plan backfired on him. Blood rushed down to his cock as you squeezed gently, making him harder and hornier than ever. You chuckled darkly as he grinded against your hand. With one last squeeze, you kissed his cheek and peeled yourself away from his bed. 

“You know where to find me, papi.”

He watched in disbelief as you gathered your things, cute little ass swaying farther and farther away from him as you hauled your bag over your shoulder. “You’re seriously leaving?” 

You smirked and waved at your boyfriend as you pulled the door open. “I have a hot date with my romance novel. Good luck with your pact, babe. You’ll need it.” 

Merlin, Mattheo was going out of his fucking mind. 

For Salazar’s sake, he was starting to get the shakes and it had only been two days since he last had sex. Granted, it felt like an eternity since you were more than determined to get your boyfriend to break. Could lack of sex actually drive a person to the brink of insanity? Mattheo was pretty convinced that the answer was yes as he gaped at the lacy red bra peeking out under your white blouse. 

Had your clothes shrunk in the wash? Mattheo could’ve sworn that your shirt hadn’t been that tight before. You were nearly bursting out of it and the view of your tits pressed together as you leaned across the table to steal a blueberry off of his plate made his mouth water and his dick hard. 

“Stay strong, Riddle,” Theo whispered beside him. “We’ve got this.” 

Never in his life had he wanted to throttle Theo more. The only thing Mattheo had at the moment was a painful fucking boner. Three more days. That’s all he had to endure before they called off this stupid sex pact. 

He could make it. Couldn’t he?

As he looked up at you sucking on a strawberry, Mattheo’s confident wavered. You were truly testing what very little self control that he possessed. You were right when you said that your boyfriend couldn’t last a single class without dragging you into an empty broom closet. You were just so pretty and sexy and hot and that was when you weren’t trying. 

Now that you were determined to tease the fuck out of him, Mattheo didn’t stand a chance. 

All day, you focused on making his life an absolute living hell. Perching on his lap, fixing his tie, smiling prettily while you brushed his curls back and left glossy kiss prints all over his cheeks. His hands were in permanent fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm so deeply that he wouldn’t be surprised to find himself bleeding. This was torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. 

The final straw came when the two of you were studying in the library later that night. Bouncing his leg, Mattheo forced himself to pay attention to the Ancient Runes textbook in front of him instead of ogling you from across the table. It wasn’t working though. Every few minutes, he caught himself glancing up at you. Your lips, your eyes, your hair. There was nothing sexual about you taking notes yet he was so turned on that he felt dizzy. 

Mattheo lowered his head, trying to keep cool. When he looked back up, you were no longer in your seat. Instead, you were reaching for a book on the shelves behind you. Whatever you were looking for was on the lowest shelves, so you bent down to retrieve it. When you did, your skirt rode up, revealing that you weren’t wearing any underwear. Mattheo hissed, scrambling to pull your skirt down. 

”What in Salazar’s name are you doing, Y/N?” Your boyfriend gripped your elbow, anger and frustration radiating off of him in waves. 

You blinked up at him, putting on an innocent smile. “Oh!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on Mattheo’s chest. “Did I forget to wear underwear? Silly me.” 

Your boyfriend groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He muttered something under his breath repeatedly. Breathing exercises. You bit back a smirk. 

On his third count to ten, Mattheo finally opened his eyes. Without a word, he gathered your belongings and hauled you out of the library. He didn’t speak until the two of you were back in the dungeons. 

“I’m going to study in my room,” Mattheo declared as he handed you your book bag. “You’ll study in yours.” 

You grinned. “Oh, Matty. We both know the only thing you’ll be studying is your cock in your hand.” Mattheo tensed as you traced a finger down his jawline. “What a shame. I’d be more than willing to put an end to your misery if you just admit that the pact is stupid.” 

For Salazar’s fucking sake. Mattheo was so close to calling this whole thing off. He wanted you. Screaming underneath him. Crying from pleasure. Moaning his name. But he couldn’t. He had to stay strong. 

Mattheo sighed and kissed your temple. “Good night, mi amor. I love you. Even though you’re determined to drive me fucking mental.” 

You smiled before pulling him in by his tie. Mattheo groaned as you placed a sweet kiss on his lips, barely giving him a taste of what he wanted. “Love you too, Matty. Sleep tight. I hope you dream of me tonight.” 

With that, he watched you saunter off in the direction of your dorm, skipping through the common room without a care in the world. Mattheo stared up at the ceiling and counted to ten again. 

Friday could not come any fucking faster. 

You had to admit that you were impressed. Your boyfriend had miraculously survived an entire week without sex. 

Despite your best efforts to thwart the stupid pact, Mattheo stayed true to his word. A pretty impressive feat given the fact that you’d practically thrown everything you had into seducing him. Sitting on his lap, licking your lips while he talked, kissing that sweet spot below his jaw, wearing your clothes shorter and tighter than ever, and even sleeping in his favorite silk red set, which you knew was particularly hard for him if the erection pressed against your back all night was any indication. 

Still, Mattheo withstood all of your attempts. 

You would’ve been upset had it not been for the fact that Mattheo looked absolutely pained by the whole ordeal. This entire week, his fists were permanently clenched at his side, his jaw locking and unlocking with every suggestive comment you threw his way, his eyes flickering over your body, groaning in frustration as he tortured himself by looking at what he couldn’t have. 

It was amusing to watch your boyfriend twitch at your every move. As you predicted, you fared better than Mattheo had. After all, you had a wild imagination and a collection of toys to hold you over. That wasn’t to say that you weren’t needy and aching for him, but you had ways of coping. 

“I’m so fucking glad it’s Friday,” Pansy grumbled beside you as she took a swig from her flask. 

After the whole bring Zabini to his knees plan failed, she’d been crankier than ever. Neither one of you expected either of your boyfriends to even make it this far without caving at least once. 

“Me too, babe. As much as I’m rooting for our boys, I can’t wait for this bloody game to be over. Win or lose, I know the sex is going to be insane.” 

Your best friend smirked as she handed you the firewhisky. “I’ll cheers to that, babe.” 

Surprisingly, the tension and frustration helped the boys play better than ever. They were ruthless on the field. Theo and Enzo were vicious as they defended the goalposts, giving way for Blaise and Mattheo to chase after the opposing beaters, nearly taking some poor bloke’s head off with a bludger. You almost felt bad for the Ravenclaws. 

When Draco caught the snitch, you cheered loudly. You and Pansy screamed until your throat felt raw and hoarse by the time the game was officially called. The two of you swayed as you descended from the stands, slightly inebriated from your generous swigs, but you didn’t mind. The liquor kept you warm and served as preparation for a night of drinking and debauchery for the common room party. 

Blaise wasn’t at all surprised that you and Pansy pregamed. In fact, he took the flask and downed the rest before tugging his girlfriend towards the castle. 

“Have fun, you crazy kids!”

Zabini chuckled. “Oh, we will. By the way, your boyfriend’s waiting for you in the locker room.” 

With a conspiratorial wink, Blaise wished you good luck as Pansy grinned from ear to ear. You chuckled before making your way over to the locker room. The doors opened, revealing a very smug looking Theo. With a frown, you swatted the back of his head. 

“Ow!” The brunette exclaimed, rubbing his newly acquired injury. “What was that for?” 

“For encouraging my boyfriend to agree to this stupid sex ban.” You crossed your arms and glared at your friend. “I know it was your idea, Theodore.” 

“Hey! We won the game, didn’t we? So obviously, my idea was brilliant.” 

“It was just dumb luck,” you replied with a scoff. “Honestly, I didn’t think you guys would take it so seriously. Especially you. You’re even worse than Mattheo. Celibacy for a week must’ve been hell, huh?” 

Theo shifted his weight, looking abashed. You narrowed your eyes at him as you read the guilt in his body language. “You little weasel! You caved, didn’t you?” 

“There was this really hot Ravenclaw…” 

“With the opposing team, too? You’re shameless, Nott.” 

“Please don’t tell the guys.” He looked genuinely contrite as he pleaded with his eyes. “They’ll murder me if they knew that I couldn’t even stick to my own pact.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, but you owe me big time.” 

Theo smiled before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “You’re the best. I’d say see you at the party, but with how tense and insane your boyfriend has been, I probably won’t see you two for the next few days.” 

“I wonder who’s fault that is.” 

“The pact was my idea. Teasing him was yours. Honestly, he almost stabbed a fork through my hand because you bent over in front of him.” He smirked as he held the door open. “You’ve got that man on a tight leash.” 

You fought a smile. “Leave before I get the urge to hit you again.” Theo nodded, making his way out. “Oh, and congratulations on the win.” 

After a cheeky wink, Theo was gone. Leaving you to find your boyfriend on your own. When you rounded the corner, you could hear the sound of water running echoing off the tiled walls. You ventured farther in the stalls and found Mattheo standing underneath the scalding hot shower, tipping his head back against the spray. With a smile, you leaned against the wall and admired your boyfriend. Merlin, he really was beautiful. 

Mattheo was a sight to behold; biceps flexing, abs taut, and back muscles tense as he washed away the sweat and grime. Your gaze trailed down to his trim waist, licking your lips as your eyes snagged on his backside. The longing sigh you released gave you away. 

Water glistened on his skin as Mattheo looked over his shoulder, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he surveyed you. Your boyfriend didn’t bother covering himself as he sauntered over to you. His chocolate brown eyes roamed over your body, smiling softly when he saw that you were wearing one of his jerseys. Mattheo traced over his surname embroidered right above your heart. 

“The Riddle name looks good on you, mi amor,” he whispered huskily, backing you against the tile. “I can’t wait to make it official one day.” 

You hummed while you tangled a wet curl between your fingers. “Oh? That won’t be happening any time soon, Matty.” Mattheo frowned as you caressed his cheek. “Not with the way you’ve neglected me this week.” 

“Don’t be like that. You know it was hell for me, princesa.” 

“I know,” you said with a grin. “I’m just teasing you. In reality, I’m kind of impressed. You didn’t cave once even when I threw everything I had at you. You were so good, baby. You crushed those Ravenclaws too.” Mattheo groaned as you kissed his jaw, nipping at his sweet spot. “Maybe the pact wasn’t so stupid after all.” 

Your boyfriend groaned as he gripped your hips and pinned you against the wall. “Oh, I won’t be doing that shit again.” Mattheo rested his hand on the base of your throat, eyes black and filled with lust as he squeezed. “It was torture not to touch you.” 

When you spoke, your voice sounded husky and seductive thanks to his possessive hold. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed perfectly in control. So much so that maybe we should extend it another week. Abstinence really helps clear the mind, doesn’t it, baby?” 

Mattheo chuckled darkly. He knew you were baiting him. You weren’t used to not getting what you wanted in your relationship. Your boyfriend was well aware that he spoiled you rotten. You were going to make him work for it tonight, but he didn’t mind. In fact, the idea thrilled him. He wouldn’t have been dating you if he wasn’t up to the challenge. 

Without warning, Mattheo tugged you into the shower, making you squeal as the water soaked your clothes. He wasted no time before crashing his lips onto yours, claiming you in a starved and possessive way that had you gasping for breath. Your boyfriend was frantic as he hoisted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Mattheo sucked harshly at your flesh, his dark chuckle a seductive caress against your skin. You groaned as he grinded his cock against your clothed pussy, which was already throbbing and aching for him. “Brace yourself, sweetheart. We have a whole week to make up for and we’re not leaving here until you’re properly punished for teasing me like the little brat that you are.” 

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “Do your worst, baby.” 

“You’ll regret that, mami.” 

With a wicked grin, Mattheo slid your panties to the side and teased along your folds. He hissed when he felt how soaked you were, practically dripping down his fingers as he eased one into your pussy. You bit down on your lip as the delicious pressure awakened a familiar heat in your core. 

“Not so brave now, are you?” Your boyfriend taunted as he slowly fingered you. After going without, you were embarrassed to find that a simple touch was enough to set your teeth on edge. “This is payback, baby. Wearing those tiny little shirts with your lace bra peeking out. Bending over in front of me knowing that you had no panties on. Grinding on my lap and making me so fucking hard that I almost sprained my wrist wanking off in the restroom like a madman.” 

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You rasped, groaning as Mattheo picked up the pace. “Not if this is what I get in return. I like when you’re rough, Matty. It makes me wet.” 

Your head lolled back as he added another finger, curving them inside of you and reaching that spongy spot that had you seeing stars. 

“Good,” Mattheo whispered as he nibbled at your earlobe. “Because I’m about to fuck you until you can’t walk.” 

The filthy words sent you over the edge. Mattheo flicked his thumb over your swollen clit and you clenched around his fingers. “I can feel you squeezing me, pretty girl. So fucking greedy, hm?” 

You let out a choked moan. Mattheo grabbed your wrist and slid your hand down his front. “Do you feel that, princesa? I’ve been hard as fuck for you all week. Are you gonna be a good girl and help me out?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Let me take care of you, papi.” 

Mattheo twitched in your hand as you gripped him, tugging as he watched you with lust blown eyes. The intensity of his stare made butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

“I thought about this while getting myself off this week. Your hands. Your eyes. Your voice.” 

“I thought about you, too,” you confessed. “But it doesn’t compare to the real thing. God, you’re fucking sexy.” You rubbed your thumb over his tip, rubbing his precum over his head. Mattheo whimpered against your neck. “I missed you whimpering for me.” 

“I don’t whimper,” Mattheo countered. 

You raised a brow and picked up the pace, working him until his eyes rolled back. Despite his denial, Mattheo whimpered even louder this time. 

“You’re playing dirty, baby.” 

“I thought you liked it dirty, Matty.” 

“I do,” he said with a smirk before curving his long fingers inside of you. You shuddered as he hit that sweet spot. “Now come on, pretty girl. Come with me.” 

You nodded, picking up the pace and groaning as Mattheo pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. He licked the roof of your mouth, shuddering as he bucked into your hand. You tugged at him, coaxing him to cum as he panted against your neck. 

“Fuck. Don’t stop, baby. I’m so fucking close.” 

“Me too, Matty,” you whimpered, grinding against his fingers to take more. 

The orgasm crackled over you like a lightning strike, singing your veins with heat as your boyfriend continued to fuck you with his fingers. Mattheo wasn’t satisfied with one orgasm. He coaxed another out of you, laughing as you greedily bucked against his hand, biting into his shoulder while the second wave hit. 

By the time your third orgasm rolled around, you genuinely felt as though you’d left your own body. Mattheo only relented when your eyes rolled back and your legs trembled, cries of his name falling sweetly from your lips. 

“Tú eres dulce como el azúcar.”

You opened your eyes slowly and found Mattheo lapping up your cum, swirling and sucking his fingers clean with a smirk. You’re sweet like sugar. Though the words were seemingly innocent, Mattheo was anything but. Your boyfriend knew exactly how much it turned you on when he spoke Spanish and he was definitely using it to his advantage.

“That was just the appetizer, baby. Got you all warmed up for my cock. Think you can take it, Y/N?” 

“I’ve been waiting all week,” you responded hoarsely. 

“It’s worth the wait,” Mattheo declared cockily as he flipped you over. He stripped you of your clothes, carelessly tossing them behind his shoulder while he positioned your hands on the tiled wall. You groaned as he bent you at an angle, smacking your ass before he lined up behind you. “I promise to fucking ruin you, mi pinche puta.” 

Anticipation coiled in your stomach as Mattheo sank in slowly. Both of you groaned as he slid all the way in, twitching as he stuffed you full. It was familiar yet new at the same time. It had always been a tight fit, but given your involuntary break, you could feel yourself struggling to adjust to his size once again. 

Mattheo gripped your hips, leaving bruises in his wake as he slid all the way out. You whined at the loss, but it wasn’t long before he thrusted all the way back in, knocking the air out of your lungs as he set a punishing pace. You braced yourself against the tile as he spread your legs further apart, allowing him to hit an even deeper angle. 

“Oh fuck, how do you always feel so good?” Mattheo grunted as his hips snapped against your ass, brutally burying himself inside of your pussy over and over again. “You were made for me, princesa. We’re perfect together.”

”Matty, baby, please…”

You keened as Mattheo tugged you by the hair, kissing you sloppily as he continued to ruin you. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples as he squeezed your flesh between his rough, calloused hands. Mattheo kneaded your breasts and used the momentum to drive deeper. His palm trailed down your torso, pressing against your stomach to feel himself moving with each thrust. 

Tears streaked your cheeks as your eyes rolled back. “Oh gods. Fuck me. Right there, baby. You fill me up so good. I love being full of you.” 

“Yeah?” Mattheo drawled as his hand crawled up your throat. “You like when I fuck you rough? Deep down, you just want to be treated like a slut. Don’t you, princess?” 

“I do,” you breathed, groaning as Mattheo squeezed your neck. “But I’m only a slut for you, Mattheo.” 

“Damn fucking right, baby.” He said proudly. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine.” 

You clenched, squeezing him so tightly that Mattheo felt like he might cum then and there. “So greedy. Milking me fucking dry. God, you’re perfect. Mi princesa, mi vida, mi amor.” Your boyfriend shuddered as you grinded against him, picking up the momentum as the two of you neared euphoria. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Fuck, I’m gonna cum—“

”Cum inside me, Matty. I want to feel you. I want all of it.” 

Mattheo cursed, his body seizing as he came with a loud cry. The sensation of him filling you to the brim, his hot cum dripping out of you and coating the inside of your thighs was enough to send you over the edge. You trembled as the orgasm hit you all at once and nearly passed out from the sheer force of it. 

Fortunately, strong arms wrapped around you before your legs could give out from underneath you. Mattheo pulled you against him, holding your trembling body as you came down from the high. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he cleaned you up. Your boyfriend took his time washing your body, taking great care when it came to your sensitive core. 

You smiled up at him as he lathered shampoo into your hair, letting you return the favor and sighing in satisfaction as you scratched his scalp. Mattheo grinned, flashing you a lovesick smile as you rinsed the product out of his hair. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispered softly. 

“I love you more,” you countered.

”Impossible.” 

After the two of you dried off, you leaned against the wall and allowed Mattheo to clothe you in his hoodie and sweats. He tied your shoes before giving you a sweet peck. 

“Ready, princesa?” 

You nodded and took his hand. Without the support of the solid wall, your legs wobbled as you struggled to walk. Mattheo caught you around the waist, a smirk tugging at his handsome face. 

“I warned you, Y/N.” He looked entirely too smug and satisfied for your liking. “Told you I’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.” 

Your boyfriend chuckled as you rolled your eyes. “Poor baby. Don’t worry, mi amor. Let your Matty take care of you, hm?” 

“I take it back. I kind of hate you right now, Mattheo.” 

You squealed as he picked you up bridal style. He didn’t even break a sweat as he carried you across the field. “No, you don’t. But you can fuck me like you do.” 

“Deal.”

[hotasfahrenheit]

okay listen. obviously there's no preview the preview wasn't on iQiyi for the finale of My Stand In yet, and i wouldn't watch it even if there was because this one i want to go into blind, i've mostly been off tumblr today so i haven't seen any other speculation or discussion yet, and i mean obviously book readers know what's going on or what's probably going on but my untainted guess for how episode 11 ended is thus, and be warned of spoilers if you haven't watched yet:

i think that Joe needed to go through that door so he can meet Other Joe and they can have A Much Needed Conversation. i honestly expected him to be the person to speak to Joe in the hallway at the end, and was VERY surprised that it wasn't him. if we're going to get some kind of spiritual out of body stuff going on, it makes sense that Other Joe is someone he needs to see and speak to.

it felt weird that the monk came off as pushing Joe to let go, also- he knows how Ming feels about Joe all too well, and he knows how hard the two of them have fought to be together, so the fact that he was just like "do you wanna keep being miserable or do you wanna give up and walk away, the door is right there, you can just walk through it and let go" just felt.... off. but if his intent was to get Joe to walk through the door so he could talk to Other Joe, then it makes a lot more sense.

it's pretty obvious that on top of all the other struggles, Joe has been carrying a weight of responsibility for Other Joe's life, the most evident in the way he takes care of Ing- but i definitely think he genuinely loves Ing at this point, since she has been such a good mother to him and cared for him since he woke up. he and Ming discussed going to see her to explain things, but we didn't see that happen so i don't know if they actually did. it feels like too big of a plot point to gloss over, but we went straight from them talking about going to see her "that afternoon" to the stunt gym at night. i have no idea if that was a translation problem and they meant later in the day and were prevented from going by everything that happened, or if they actually just chose to leave that scene out.

the episode ending with Joe in a coma and potentially dieing again without having shown us any resolution- or honesty- with Ing feels wrong tho, so my guess is they didn't go see her yet, which means she has to deal with her son being in the hospital AGAIN.

and i think that Other Joe is too far gone, too long gone, to go back to life himself, but i think he's waiting for Joe on the other side of that door to turn him back around and send him back for both of them. Joe needs to remember why he wants to live- for love, for family, for himself, and i think talking to Other Joe, who gave up on those things specifically, is going to have to tell him that giving up on all of that isn't worth it. that he needs to take the opportunity for both of them to go back. to love Ming, and to be with his friends, and to take care of Ing. and Joe couldn't have that conversation if he didn't walk through that door, because Other Joe has been on the other side of it for too long.

we have had no kind of interaction with Other Joe at all, no flashbacks from people who knew him, no stories told by his mother to really give us an idea of who he was, just her saying he's different. we got nothing real from Tharn about their relationship, not even an apology for how it ended. nothing from anyone who knew him about him. i feel like it's time to let him speak, it's time for him to turn up and have a say in what's happening to his body. time for him to give Joe his benediction to live a full life, for him to tell Joe to do what he wasn't able to.

anyway yeah i think that's what's going on, so i'm not going to give up hope, and i'm not going to cry about this (too much) and i'm going to be tearing my hair out until next friday waiting for the final piece of this story.

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 11 - Dream On

📜... I'll be running from the pitchforks as they come... I'll be running from the pitchforks as they come... 👀

❗+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, original child, shitty family dynamics, attempted kidnapping, violence, physical violence, slight verbal abuse, fighting, people are getting hurt in this one, and mentions of blood.

(This part might not be for everyone, so I will say if you want to skip over some of the more descriptive parts, the second someone sees Sadie, please skip to the end.)

#5.5k Words

Part 10 | Masterlist | Part 12

You had no idea what Jake had planned for your second date, and you started feeling guilty.

All Jake told you was to wear something you could easily change out of. He was supposed to pick you up after your shift and take you to some undisclosed location for 'dinner and an experience that would change your life.’ Then he proceeded to tell you Maverick wanted to spend time with Sadie.

Rooster had picked Sadie up from school and dropped her off at the bar.

If he knew anything about you and Jake, he hadn't let on. Whether it was you threatening to take his Sadie privileges away or the chat he had with Jake did something, you were slightly grateful. Perhaps it could make the blow a little softer, for when you told him you broke your promise of not falling for Jake's charms.

But that wasn't the cause for your guilt.

When Jake dropped you back home after the fair, he had respectfully walked you to the door like he wanted. Five minutes before Sadie's curfew, he kissed your cheek and asked if he could see you again. You had asked him if Friday afternoon was too soon, to which he teasingly replied, "So, you just don't want to be friends then?"

Having never gone past a first date, let alone had a date that went as well as this one, you felt a little lost. All those little nuisances of what you were supposed to do now, running amuck in your head - if you could plan the next set of dates or surprise him. He was doing everything right, at least what you believed to be right.

Besides Javy, there wasn't anyone else you could ask about what Jake liked to do. It wasn't the same as asking him what Jake liked to eat; you already had done that when you decided he could return for another Saturday night. It also wouldn't be the same or such a surprise if you asked him yourself. And you wouldn't dare go snoop.

But then you realized, in your panic, you maybe had more to work with than you thought, pulling out your phone to see if any country concerts were coming up that Jake might like to see. The bar was empty, save for you and Sadie, due to a surfing tournament on another beach. You had the time to investigate before Jimmy came to relieve you anyway.

But then you were pulled from your search, a text notification appearing along the top. A message from Maverick that said he was on his way to pick up Sadie.

"Uncle Mav is on his way, Bug! Do you have your helmet?" you called out.

Hearing a thump on the bar, you turned to see Sadie looking at you expectantly, her late Christmas gift from the entire Squad sticking out like a sore thumb. The shiny red helmet was littered with Lady Bugs along both sides, the words Bug in bright, bold letters on the front mocking the designs of their own helmets.

"Am I stupid?" she asked sarcastically. "He drives so fast. I'm not going anywhere without it."

You laughed at her softly. " I'm just making sure. What about your homework?"

"It's Friday," she pouted.

"Sadie..."

"Uncle Jake said he'd help me study for my math test tomorrow," she relented. "It's the end of the school year. I just want to enjoy this night with Uncle Mav before things get busy. Before playoffs."

You regarded her for a moment, deciding to let it slide. She was right, and if Jake was going to help her, you knew she'd do okay on her test.

"Okay, fine," you agreed. " But go to the bathroom. You don't know how long you'll be on the bike for."

Sadie blew a raspberry at you before climbing off the bar stool and skipping down the hall.

You were washing a wine glass at the sink, your back somewhat facing the front of the bar, when you heard someone ring the barbell. You turned to face the person, reaching for Sadie's helmet as you said, "Sorry, that bell is not for..."

But a shrill gasp replaced the end of your sentence, and a sharp chill shot down your spine. You reflectively took a few steps back at the person standing before you.

Tyler Hillman hardly changed since he walked out on your sister that night.

It was obvious Sadie took after Ridley in almost every aspect. While Sadie had Tyler's blonde hair, she looked nothing like him. Whereas he was all sharp features and a pointed nose, Sadie had inherited the dimples you and Ridley were known for.

His stare still made you uncomfortable - not the same way you felt when some of the newer pilots leered at you while you worked. It was the type that made you feel as if he was looking right through you. He still puffed out his chest and stood in a way that now reminded you of Cyclone. And he had an expectant look, despite not saying a word. Like you should already know exactly what he wanted.

Even the lack of a smile, regardless of if it would have freaked you out, was unnerving.

"Tyler..." you stuttered, failing to keep the fear from your voice. "What are you doing here?'

"Cut the crap, Elizabeth," his tone was short. "I know you aren't exactly pleased to see me."

"And you can't imagine why?" you gritted behind your teeth. Your hand holding Sadie's helmet slowly travelled behind your back while Tyler laughed to himself, remarking, "I believe the last words you ever said to me were, 'If you hurt my sister ever again, I will personally shove your balls down your throat.' And you were still a teenager."

Although you were utterly terrified, taking in the fact that one of your worst nightmares had come true, you managed to spit out, "And I'll still do it, you asshole."

He ignored you. "Let me cut to the chase," he said, smiling at you sinisterly. "You have something that belongs to me. I want it back."

His eyes dropped down to the helmet, and you knew, without a doubt, his sole intention in walking into the bar was to take Sadie.

"As if I'd ever give her over to you."

Tyler tutted, shaking his head. "You know, you're making my job here ten times harder. Wouldn't it be so much better for us both if you just handed her over to me? So, you and that glorified pilot could start your own family."

You drew in a sharp breath at the mention of Jake. It confirmed every thought you ever had about being followed, every stupid fucking encounter you've ever had with that white car playing in your head like a movie. The spoiler should have been a dead giveaway; Tyler beefed up his cars with his parent’s money like a spoiled teenager.

"Though," he added, looking down at his hands before staring back at you. "I wouldn't be surprised if that hasn't happened already, the way you two practically fucked up against that truck on the fairgrounds."

Bile rose in your throat. He saw the two of you at the fair, and you suddenly realized he was probably the person who bumped into you. You tried to hide the quiver in your voice as you admitted quietly, "You were stalking me."

Tyler shrugged. "I like to think of it as a little insurance. Knowing what I have to put up with."

You hated that you were forcing yourself to speak with him, that walking on eggshells with your responses would be better than giving him the reaction you knew he desperately wanted. A reaction you would have no problem giving had you not known better.

But deep down, you were screaming. Screaming for Sadie to stay hidden in the bathroom. Screaming for Pete to hurry up so you wouldn't be alone. For Jake to arrive earlier to come to get you. So, you didn't have to keep distracting him so you could stall for time.

You knew Tyler. He'd stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Because there was no way you weren't getting out of this without some sort of fight.

The words slipped out of your mouth, "You're insane."

Tyler whipped his hand across the bar, knocking a few empty glasses off the surface and sending them crashing to the floor. You flinched, your grasp on Sadie's helmet becoming tighter as he reached out to grab the backs of the farthest bar chairs.

"No, you know what's insane?" he shouted at you. "My father cares more about his political career and reputation than anything else."

This was the Tyler you knew him to be. The rich kid persona, acting out if he didn't get his way.

"Go get the kid, Tyler," he rambled. "We can't have this staining our chances. So, what do I do but remind him he was the one who wanted the no responsibility cause."

Your hand holding Sadie's helmet twitched at him degrading your sister, fighting the urge to throw it at his head.

"So, what does he do but put in the review request," Tyler's knuckles whitened on the chair as he shook his head. "Asshole didn't listen to me when I told him your sister had it locked down, 'ironclad.'"

Those were the exact words the clerk had told you the day Jake picked Sadie up from school. And then the letter flashed in your mind, Tyler's written words reciting themselves in your head.

"You tried to convince her," you said out loud. "Your letter, you wanted her to drop it."

"Oh, find that did you?" he smirked, pleased with himself. "I'll admit, it wasn't the best idea. But at least it got her to meet up with me."

"Meet up with you?!" You said in disbelief. "She'd never put herself in that situation, not what you did to her."

He lazily spun one of the barstools around before picking up a toothpick from the bowl on the bar. He threw the piece of paper it was in onto the ground, working the piece of wood through his fingers. "She was a nuisance, that one. Never did what I asked her to. Ungrateful, really."

Taking the toothpick with his other hand, he brought it up to his mouth, working it around his bottom teeth before biting down. You made a mental note to ask Jake not to use them anymore at the action.

"Despite what you think, she did meet me. Out at a coffee shop before dark, just before a freak storm."

Like a cigarette, Tyler pulled the stick out of his mouth, snapping it in two and tossing the broken pieces onto the top of the bar. "Told me I was the biggest fucking regret of her life, apart from being nothing short of a sperm donor."

You jolted as he tore the chairs backwards. They struck the floor with an intense bang. "Me, of all things, a sperm donor?!"

You caught the clock behind his head, refusing to look at him while he spurred off on everything Ridley said to him during that chat. How she humiliated him. How she listed off all the reasons why she'd never help him, never let Sadie anywhere near him.

Part of you understood why she did it. It was everything she couldn't say to your father, her one regret of taking you and leaving as the both of you did. Time and time again, she told you she wished she could convey just how much he had hurt the two of you, how much he had hurt your mother with his actions, while he lay in some comatose state so he'd be forced to listen to everything, without a chance of getting a word in.

Tyler was that chance.

Fixing your eyes on the smaller hand, you watched as it ticked away, each second a blessing, knowing somebody was just that closer to walking through those doors - even if you felt like a princess who needed rescuing. You prayed Sadie was still in the bathroom, the noise making her lock herself up in a stall.

That was until his following words made you look at him in shock.

"Though I'll admit after that, it was pretty easy leaving her on the side of that road," he remarked nonchalantly. "That tree practically came out of know where."

His words didn't register right away. At first, you thought he was trying to rile you up, mentioning your sister's death to upset and hurt you because you weren't giving in to what he wanted.

But then, the way in which he described leaving her. The way he described the tree. You knew.

It was never the storm that caused Ridley to crash.

You wanted to scream at him for what he'd done, but you stood there silently instead. Your mouth hung slightly open in disbelief as tears filled your eyes and ran down your cheeks.

"You bastard," you gasped.

He looked at you with a sickening smirk, taking pleasure in what he had done without feeling remorse for Ridley's death or your pain, shrugging like it was no big deal.

"That was one problem taken care of. But then I forgot about you. Should have known she'd have you take the kid should anything happen to her."

Tears streamed down your face as you gripped the side of your forearm. It was one thing to think Ridley's death had been an accident. It was another to know it hadn't. And Tyler raised his eyebrows, pleased with your reaction.

"You, I think, will be much easier to deal with."

A small gasp could be heard from the hallway to the bathroom. You saw the shift in his eyes, a quick side glance, indicating he saw Sadie hiding behind the corner. And despite everything you felt, you knew he would stop at nothing to get to her.

"Sadie! Run!" you shouted.

She panickily turned towards the back doors with a sharp gasp, sprinting towards the beach. You stepped forward and swung your arm up, Sadie's helmet still tight in your grasp. But Tyler was quicker, grabbing your wrist forcefully before you could hit him. You cried out as his nails bit into your skin, the helmet hitting the top of the bar, as you tried to pry his grip off your wrist.

Then he yanked you forward, hard. You wheezed as the counter's edge hit your stomach, and you doubled over the bar in pain. Struggling to breathe, you tried to force air into your lungs, a wave of panic surging through you as Tyler reached for the back of your head. Your hand came up in a weak attempt to stop him.

But it wasn't enough. Without warning, he slammed your face down into the surface of the bar.

Everything went black.

Fuzzy.

Mute.

You felt yourself being pushed backwards, falling to the floor like a sack of potatoes, the side of your face hitting something solid on the floor and making you cry out in pain. You instinctively cradled your face, your body curling inwards on itself.

It could have been minutes of you laying on the floor until you felt a hand wrench yours away from your face, dragging you over to the side of the bar. You fought and screamed for him to let you go. Then something cool was placed around your wrist. Tyler said something to you, but you couldn't make it out with the roar of blood rushing through your ears, eyes instinctively shut, whether your mind was protecting you or the pain was too much.

And then he was gone.

And your world went dark.

At first, you could only feel the coolness of the fridge against your arm, the biting edge of something encasing your wrist, a light breeze on your face, and the aches and pain underneath your skin.

Then it came to you, an overwhelming, all-encompassing feeling of panic throughout your body.

Sadie was in danger.

You opened your eyes.

The fucking asshole had handcuffed you to the mini-fridge. You blindly searched for something on top of the counter, random objects and glasses crashing to the floor as you struggled to find something you could use to free yourself.

But it was no use. There was nothing, not even a paper clip to wedge between the springs.

So, you tugged.

And tugged.

And pulled.

Each time more excruciating than the last, some blind hope urging you to believe if you put enough pressure behind your efforts - if you yanked hard enough - the metal would give way. And each scream would bring you one step closer to Sadie, despite your skin already turning blue.

The pain you could endure. Sadie needed you.

You had lost count of how many times you tried to free yourself, how many times the metal cut into your skin, but one attempt became too much. You hollered at the pain, the sharp feeling radiating down the joint of your arm, making you crumble.

There was no way you would get this thing off you.

It was hopeless.

"Liz?!"

Almost hopeless.

"Jake!" you screamed out through your tears. His boots pounded on the hardwood floor, and looking up over the top of the bar from the ground, you saw his head, eyes wild and frantic as he took in the state of the bar.

"Where are you!?" he yelled, stepping around the broken glass and upset chairs.

"Here!" you cried out, too weak to hide the pain or panic from your voice.

Jake sprinted around the bar, the swinging doors whacking either side of the counter as he approached you, trying to avoid the glass. You reached for him with your free hand, gripping his forearm tightly to confirm he was there with you. He kneeled next to you, grabbing the back of your neck, and firmly tilting your head to the side to take in the side of your face.

"Who the fuck did this to you?" he fumed, his face red as he focused on what you knew later to be a black eye. A vein on his forehead was sticking out as his nostrils flared. In any other instance, you would have feared him. But some small part of you knew you were safe.

You didn't answer him directly, instead crying out, "He went after Sadie."

Jake stiffened. "Who? Who has Sadie?"

"Tyler!" you sobbed. "You were right. He was behind everything."

He quickly scanned the inside of the bar for something heavy to free you with as you continued to bawl out, "His father put in the CPS request. He was the car. The one that night when you picked me up. At Sadie's school, at home. He was at the fair."

Jake looked back down at your face, shocked. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?!"

"I thought it was paranoia!" you exclaimed, thumping your head against the cupboard. Then in your bubbling mess, you cried out, "He killed Ridley."

Jake froze before pulling you to him, pressing your foreheads together as he fumed, "That fucker."

He let go of your face to reach up and grab your wrist, turning it to see the damage you had caused in your attempt to free yourself. Something changed in how he worked to free you - as if the news you had just given him were his commanding orders, and like a good soldier, he was following through.

Then the panic settled in your stomach once again. It wasn't you who needed help.

Sadie was in danger.

"Jake, you need to go find her. Please!"

He hooked his fingers between the metal and your skin, attempting to use sheer force and strength to pry the metal away. But you whimpered, crying out in pain as he pulled. You placed your hand on his arm to get him to stop.

"Jake, stop! You can't!"

He let out a frustrated cry, pulling away to place a hand on your neck once again. "I'm not leaving you here like this!"

But you shook your head frantically. "It's her before me. Always, Jake! Please!"

Jake didn't move. He was fighting with himself between trying to find something to free you with or leaving you like this so he could get to Sadie before Tyler did.

"Go!"

The firmness in your voice urged Jake to press a long, hard kiss to your cheek, just below your bruise, his hands holding either side of your jaw tight before he forced himself to leave you. Standing up, he pushed himself out of the bar, taking off in a full sprint out the back door after Tyler.

You were alone again, still chained, still lying amongst the broken glass trapped by the counter walls. You were left to grapple with the understanding your sister didn't die in an accident, that she was murdered, that Tyler ran her off the fucking road and left her to die. And now, he was after Sadie. He might as well have ripped your heart out and thrown it amongst the broken glass.

Sadie deserved so much better than you. And knowing your voice would go unheard, you wailed to the ceiling with the belief you were a complete and utter failure as her guardian.

It was a few minutes before Mav found you. You cried out for him as he called out your name. He peered at you from over the bar, you exclaiming you were handcuffed. He ran to Penny's office, coming back with a pair of heavy shears. As he worked to free you, you told him what happened. Once he released you, he led you to a chair, telling you to stay put before going to the back door.

"Call the police!" he called over his shoulder. "I'm going to go find Hangman."

___

The first time Jake ever got into a fistfight was in seventh grade.

A kid named Carter had made an insensitive joke about Janet, how he needed his sister, a girl no less, to fight his battles for him. Jake had swung without realizing he had. He had acted on instinct. He hadn't thought about the consequences.

And even as he sat in the Principal’s office afterwards, holding an ice bag to his cheek, his Ma sitting next to him as the principal ratted on him, he didn't care. Even when he came home, his brother George stared at him from the front step, shaking his head; he didn't care. Or when his father moved his room to the barn hayloft as a form of punishment, Jake stood his ground.

He had accepted his fate, whatever it would be. It was a small price to pay - nobody would say anything bad about his sister if he had any control over the matter.

But there would be consequences if he failed here. Sadie being taken away from you, him, and the Squad wasn't an option in any regard.

A faint scream in the distance guided Jake in the direction he needed to go, further down the south side to where the beach curved and a pile of rocks cut off the sand. Sprinting along the shore, he saw Sadie had been caught, dragged by her wrist in the sand as she screamed. She was fighting, arms flailing as she repeatedly hit Tyler in some desperate attempt to get him to let her go.

Sadie knew what was happening when she heard the glass breaking in Aunt Penny's bar. She knew what her birth father looked like; her mom had shown her countless pictures, always telling her if she saw this man, she needed to hide or run like hell.

She never questioned her mom on the why. She had heard enough eavesdropping on conversations to know he was an evil man.

When she was caught, she thrashed against him, calling out for anyone to help her. But the beach was empty, and he wasn't listening to her. She dug her heels into the sand, pulling against him and turning her wrist in his hand before she saw her Uncle Jake running towards them. His fist was clenched into a ball, and with each second he got closer, he raised it higher. Catching on to what he was about to do, Sadie dropped to her knees.

"Tyler!" Jake shouted at a full sprint.

The man didn't expect someone to shout his name, even as Sadie repeatedly started punching at his leg. The minute he turned, Jake didn't hesitate, his knuckles hitting the flesh of Tyler's cheek hard. The man crumpled to the ground, clutching his face as he groaned.

Jake slid on one knee across the sand, having lost his balance as he came to a halt. Sadie instantly ran to him, looping her arms around his neck as she cried. He held her tightly, feeling her body shake with her sobs.

But Tyler wasn't finished. There was no way this army nut would stand between him and his trust fund. The sight of Sadie clinging to Jake urged him to stand, anger sharpening his resolve.

Jake stood, pushing Sadie behind him. She tried to make herself as small as possible, gripping the denim of his jeans tightly between her fingers and hiding her face in the back of his leg.

Tyler stepped to the left, Jake to the right. The two men circled each other, Sadie moving with her uncle as they waited for the other to make a move.

"This isn't your fight, Navy Boy!"

Jake cocked his head. "Really? My girl was handcuffed and left broken on the floor. You going after her niece. I'd say this is my fight."

Tyler laughed to himself. "It's not my fault you left her all chained up."

"This can go two ways here, Tyler," Jake explained, reaching around to place a comforting hand on Sadie's shoulder when she whimpered at the mention of you. "Either you back up and run back home to god knows where. Or you take another step, and I'll show you exactly what we do to men who treat women and children like you do back home."

"I'd like to see you try."

Jake's voice was stern as he replied, "Your choice. "

Tyler stared at Jake briefly before nodding at his words, turning sideways as if he was about to leave. But then, in a blink of an eye, Tyler lunged. Sadie gasped, jumping to the side as Jake pushed her out of harm's way. The two men grappled in the sand, Jake trying to gain the upper hand without hitting him, too focused on trying to escape his hold.

Sadie landed on her hands. Sand had been thrown into her face as she tried to dodge a nearby rock. Coughing, she turned onto her back, rubbing her eyes at the grains of sand scattered across her face before opening them to a horrifying sight.

Her Uncle Jake was pinned, Tyler raining blow after blow into his arms, protecting his face as he tried to find a way out from under him. Jake refused to throw another punch in front of Sadie, your voice echoing in his head - the longstanding promise you had vowed never to let her experience any trauma. He wouldn't add more to what he knew would be another one of her nightmares.

Sadie could only watch in horror, her heart pounding in her chest, as her uncle tried to deflect Tyler's blows. She felt helpless and scared. She wanted nothing more than for this to be over, weeping as she stumbled while attempting to stand, looking for a way to help her uncle. He was in this mess because of her… because she got caught.

"Uncle Jake!" she screamed, taking a hesitant step forward. But Jake turned his head in the sand, shouting towards her, "Get out of here, Sadie!"

Tyler landed an uppercut to his jaw, Jake's teeth clamping down hard on his bottom lip with force as his arms lost their stance, giving Tyler the ultimate opportunity to land a devastating blow.

But as he was setting himself up, it left his head exposed. Sadie saw this, realizing she might lose her Uncle Jake if she didn't do something now. Ignoring what he said, she charged forward at a run, imagining she was kicking a soccer ball at one of her games. She swung her leg forward, forcing every ounce of power into her strike for Tyler's head.

But he saw her coming out of the corner of his eye, his hand grabbing her ankle, easily tossing her backwards. Sadie screamed, her arms flying out as she fell back, landing with a sickening crunch. She was too close to the collection of rocks along the end of the beach, and Jake watched her fall as if the world was suddenly in slow motion. The second Sadie fell, she hit the back of her head on a rock.

And she didn't get up.

Tyler paused in his efforts as both watched her body limply roll to the side. "Uh, that would have been easier to deal with."

Jake saw red.

In a momentary burst of adrenaline, fueled only by rage, Jake let his hand fly, no longer bound to hold his punches for fear of Sadie being mentally scarred. Tyler fell, and Jake used the momentum to land blow after blow to his face, never stopping or hesitating for a second.

And like that day in seventh grade, when he landed that first punch when Carter threatened his sister, Jake didn't think.

He had hurt Sadie.

He had hurt you.

He had murdered your sister.

Nothing else mattered.

"Hangman!"

Jake looked up from Tyler's face to see Maverick running down the beach. Unfortunately, the distraction was enough for Tyler to knock Jake back to the ground with a knee to his stomach. Jake collapsed with a groan, and Tyler climbed back on top of him again, hand raised to throw another punch. But Mav was quicker, tackling him off Jake with a heavy push.

Tyler rolled away from the two pilots, spitting blood into the sand. He could not take her now when he had two other people to contend with. There would be fewer opportunities now to get the kid. But a few calls to his father's office could put any 'repercussions' of this little misunderstanding to rest.

He quickly stood, running off down the beach toward his car. Maverick started to go after him before Jake yelled for him to stop.

"Let him go!" he panted out, forcing himself to stand and spitting out, "Sadie's hurt."

When he got to Sadie, Jake reached down to cradle the back of her head, only to be met with warm liquid collecting in the palm of his hand. "Shit, Sadie? Bug, open your eyes for me."

But she didn't. She barely moved despite the slight movement of her chest. Mav slid to the ground beside him, a hand coming out to hold Sadie's cheek.

"Bug, don't do this," Mav called to her, hoping his voice would do something. But when Jake pulled his hand back, Pete rocked back on his heels, horrified at the sight.

"Call an ambulance," Jake commanded, hooking his arm under her legs, tilting her body upright so he could place his hand on the back of her head. "Tell them to meet us in the parking lot of the Hard Deck."

Mav stumbled to stand up before taking off in a sprint down the beach, phone in hand. And as Jake stood, cradling Sadie into his chest, he felt petrified.

"I picked you too, you know," he said through gritted teeth as he carried her back to the Hard Deck, trekking through the sand with effort. "You and your aunt are a package deal. You need to be okay, Sadie. Why give me the chance to be your uncle if you're not here for me to do it?"

The longer Jake walked with no word from Sadie, the quicker he set his pace, carefully keeping her stable and his hand firmly against her head. And as he approached you and Maverick, he pleaded with her one final time.

"Please, Bug. Don't do this. Not because of me."

---

Jimmy found you pacing the back deck, tears streaming down your face as you cradled your bruised wrist to your chest. You had no idea which way they went or what direction Jake had taken off when he left you. All you could think about was Sadie and if he got to her in time.

He was gone, waiting for the police outside. But then you spied Mav, almost running back to the Hard Deck while speaking into his phone. He looked worried as you shot off the step, almost tripping to get to him. And when he hung up his phone, he reached for you.

"Mav, what happened?!" you cried out. "Where is she? Where's Jake?"

Mav gripped your forearms, trying to steady you as you stumbled back and forth on the spot. "Elizabeth, you need to listen to me."

"Mav, where is she?!" you tried again through your tears. "Tell me!"

He reached up to grasp your cheeks, holding you still as he finally managed to answer, "It's Sadie, Elizabeth."

"What?" a quiet plea on your lips.

Pete dropped his hands and opened his mouth to speak again but stopped. Staring at his face, you saw him focus on something behind you, making him swallow hard.

Following his line of sight, you turned. Time froze as your heart thudded painfully in your chest, white pain flooding every single vein in your body as you saw Jake approach you.

Somewhere in your mind, you registered he was hurt, with bruises covering his face, and his bottom lip was split. You should have known he would have made it his mission to get to Sadie in time, no matter the cost. But you wouldn't have noticed anyway.

Sadie was limp in Jake's arms. Your legs finally gave out as you sank your knees into the sand, a heart-wrenching cry tearing its way up your throat as your question of what happened was answered.

The blood matting the back of her head and through Jake's fingers told you all you needed to know. 

Tags:

@blue-aconite @tinytotontheoversizedpony @djs8891 @caitsymichelle13 @startrekfangirl2233

@mayhemmanaged @ereardon @dempy @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @daggerspare-standingby

@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

@bubblegumbeautyqueen @sarahsmi13s @desert-fern @lynnestra44 @memoriesat30 @penwieldingdreamer @mxlanciia

@bradleybeachbabe @bobby-r2d2-floyd @lavenderbradshaw @roosters-girl @lovinglyeternal @genius2050 @gigisimsonmars @dakotakazansky

@keyrani

Part 12: Blue Healer Coming Soon

Wickett

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

From Hell to Home to Back Again

Summary: At the talent show, Chrissy Cunningham is so hungry that she nearly collapses. When she's found by Hopper, her parents ended up losing custody of her. She ends up being placed in the care of the Hendersons, and she finally finds the family she so desperately needed. She also ends up falling in love. What other changes are made in this alternate universe?

A/N: Some dialogue from FOI.

@emen-98 @1lostsoul0fishbowl @vulpixsworld

Prologue . . . Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chrissy didn't try to find Eddie the next day or the following Monday. She listened as Ronnie told her all about what happened in the recording studio Sunday, how it started off very rocky, but once they worked through their nerves, it turned out really awesome.

"Okay, enough about me," Ronnie said. "You were really distant on Friday. I was pretty much busy all weekend. Anyway, did anything happen? Did you finally get to talk to Eddie like you wanted to?"

"Uh, yeah," Chrissy said. "So, the demo is sent out, huh?"

"Don't change the subject, Henderson," Ronnie said.

"You're my friend, right?" Chrissy asked. "I mean, no matter what happens between me and Eddie?"

"Duh," Ronnie said.

"I think I'm done with Eddie," Chrissy frowned.

"Shit, what did the dumbass say?" She asked.

"He said the one thing that could drive me away," Chrissy said. "I was just trying to stop him from pushing me away, so I showed up at his house. I met his dad when he wasn't there yet, and God, he's definitely a conman. I think he's conning Eddie into something, and I think it might be something serious. I think that Wayne tried to talk Eddie out of whatever it is."

"What did he say?" Ronnie asked softly.

"He said I was crazy like my mom," Chrissy said.

"Shit, doesn't he know that your birth mom is in Pennhurst?" She asked.

"Yeah," Chrissy said.

"Fucking dick," Ronnie said. "I'm going ram my drumstick - "

"Ronnie! Look, he's clearly being self-destructive, and if he doesn't want me around to watch that, then so be it," Chrissy said. "I know he didn't mean for that to slip out."

"You're too forgiving, Chrissy Henderson. He doesn't deserve you," Ronnie said.

"This Eddie doesn't. I know the Eddie I fell for is still in there, hiding behind fear," Chrissy said, frowning. "But that doesn't mean that I'm not still pissed at him. And that doesn't mean that he's going to get off lightly if he does get his head out of his ass."

"Are you going to make him suffer?" Ronnie asked.

"I have ideas," Chrissy replied.

"Yes!"

Chrissy didn't look Eddie's way or bother to try to talk to him, and when he did try to approach her, it was her turn to scurry away. She didn't talk to him until Wednesday afternoon, when she turned the corner to discover him being pinned face first against the lockers by Tommy Hayes and Jason Carver. Connor was there, too.

"Hey! Let him go!" Chrissy yelled.

"What are you willing to do for me if we do let him go?" Jason asked.

"Well, I'll let you keep your equipment for one thing," Chrissy said, narrowing her eyes at him and Eddie snorted.

"Shut up, freak!" Tommy yelled at Eddie.

There were two Tommy Hs in this school. There was Tommy Hagan, who was an asshole but too much of a coward to actually do what this Tommy was doing. It was what had made it easy to hang out with him when Steve had been friends with Tommy Hagan. No, this Tommy H was far worse. Where Tommy Hagan was dark-haired with freckles littering his body, Tommy Hayes was blond haired with fair skin that was free of moles or freckles. Tommy Hagan always held a sliver of humanity beneath his bitchyness and snark. It always told Chrissy that this was something that he was eventually going to grow out of. Hayes held a darkness in his eyes, telling her that this was always going to be a part of him. Jason held an almost similar simmering darkness in his eyes, but it wavered slightly when Chrissy looked at him pleadingly.

"Don't do this, please," Chrissy said.

"He was breaking into a classroom," Jason said furiously.

"I was given permission! We were told we could use it for Hellfire!" Eddie exclaimed.

"I believe him, Jason. Let him go. It doesn't give you the right to do this," Chrissy said. "You don't have to be like this. You guys don't have to be enemies. His interest in the game isn't going to hurt you. It's just a fantasy game. You play your game, and he plays his. Leave him alone."

"Where's the fun in that, Cunningham?" Tommy H asked.

"Henderson," Chrissy, Eddie, and Jason corrected.

Jason stepped closer to her, and Eddie struggled against the others' grips.

"Leave her alone!" Eddie yelled.

"Serious answer here, Chrissy. What are you going to do for me if we let him go?" Jason asked.

"Are you seriously asking me that? Date you, and you leave Eddie alone?" Chrissy asked.

"Yes," Jason said hopefully.

"Don't!" Eddie cried out. "You don't have to do that, Chrissy. I'll be okay."

Chrissy stared at him as Tommy H pressed Eddie's face into the locker, their hands holding his arms so tightly that she knew they were leaving bruises. She looked into his wide brown eyes, so full of sorrow.

"Eddie," Chrissy whispered.

"I'm sorry, Chrissy, I'm sorry," Eddie wimpered.

"You really love this freak?" Jason said furiously, his jaw clenching.

Before Chrissy could answer, there came a scream, and Gareth was running toward them. Ronnie was running after him, trying to hold him back, but he was determined. He slammed his elbow into Tommy H's stomach, causing him to bend over. It allowed Eddie to push back against Connor and turn around. Tommy grabbed Gareth, holding him tightly.

"Get off of him," Eddie told him.

"Your freak king thinks I should do what he says," Tommy sneered, and Gareth spat in his eyes. "You little shit!"

He started dragging Gareth away. Chrissy went to chase after, but Jason grabbed her arm. She reacted quickly and slammed her knee into his groin before swinging her fist into his face as well. Jason cursed.

"Let me go," Gareth said.

"I'm going to kill you," Tommy spat at him.

Chrissy saw the look in Tommy's eyes at the same time that Eddie did. This wasn't just something that you say in the heat of the moment. He meant it. Tommy drove his knee into Gareth's chest, sending the boy to his knees. Chrissy rushed at him, but Jason, who was kneeling on the floor, grabbed Chrissy's ankle, causing her to fall hard against the tile and the other lockers. Her head hit the metal, and she gasped in pain, feeling the blood beginning to spill from her split eyebrow. Looks like she was going to have another scar. She shot her other foot out, slamming it into his face.

"Chrissy," Jason said, his nose bleeding and his eyes wide as he gazed at her.

"Chrissy!" Eddie yelled.

She stood up shakily, and they both watched as Tommy kicked Gareth forcibly in the head. Gareth flew back into the lockers with a loud crunch. He gasped and curled up on the ground, clutching his wrist. Chrissy was feeling a little woozy and tried to stop Tommy from picking up Gareth, but he pushed her down. Meanwhile, Eddie was trying to escape Connor, but it was no use. Tommy pulled Gareth up, the kid letting out a painful wimper. His arm went back as he tried to punch Gareth in the face. Ronnie, however, intervened by stepping in between them and taking the blow that was meant for Gareth.

"Are you done?" Ronnie demanded. "Or do you want to show off by beating up a freshman some more?"

"That's enough," Higgins voice spoke.

Higgins' eyes took in the scene. He moved to Jason and the others, finally landing on Eddie. He glared accusingly at him, like it was fault. No, why wouldn't it be the people who were actually responsible? Chrissy glared at Higgins. They were all brought to his office, except for Gareth. He was on his way to the hospital. Chrissy refused to go, instead fixed up her cut right there in the main office, glaring at Jason as she did so. Her eye was going to bruise. She just knew it. The other two were playing with their detention slips, but Jason was starting to look guilty, at least. Chrissy tossed her bloody tissue at him as she followed Eddie into Higgins' office.

"Miss Cunningham, I didn't ask you to come in here yet," Higgins said.

"I know, I came in here to make sure you listened to what actually happened and not just outright accuse Eddie," Chrissy said with a forced smile. "And for God's sake, it's Henderson."

"He knows what actually happened. Tommy Hayes made sure his parents bought him out," Eddie said. "How much is it going to cost them this time to bail him out? Three times the going rate? Maybe four? Maybe you get a new car this time. I've heard he's got a great stock of new Volvos."

"Are you finished? Wonderful," Higgins said. "Now. I’d like to run through the events of this afternoon with you because you seem to have an uncanny ability to ignore reality. Point one: After the final bell, you led your…club in breaking into a teacher’s classroom without that teacher’s knowledge or consent. Point two: when Mr. Hayes and his friends discovered your trespass. You goaded them into attacking —"

"That's bullshit!" Eddie and Chrissy exclaimed.

"Eddie works his ass off to clean classrooms to get permission to have a place for Hellfire," Chrissy scowled. "Those assholes were trying to hurt Eddie for his own amusement. He ran so they'd go after him instead of his friends."

"Miss Cunningham - "

"For the last goddamn time, IT'S HENDERSON!" Chrissy yelled.

"—which leads me to point three: in the ensuing altercation, four students were injured, one badly enough to send him to the hospital. Do I have that, right?" Higgins asked, ignoring Chrissy.

“No! We were minding our business, and those guys jumped us!"

Higgins shakes his head.

"A child is in the hospital, and you are sitting here whining and pointing fingers," he told Eddie.

Higgins sighed and pulled out a piece of paper. He slid it towards Eddie.

"What is this?" Eddie asked.

Chrissy peered over his shoulder to read it with him. Apparently, Stan's mom had taken him out of school when she found out he was in Hellfire and stuck him into a program to free him from his satantic influence. Chrissy cursed under her breath.

"I want to make this very clear, Munson," he continued. "What happened to Stanley is your fault. So is every bruise on every student sitting out in that office. So, is the child currently awaiting an orthopedic surgeon at Hawkins Memorial. ‘Oblique displaced fracture.’ That’s what the paramedics told me. ‘Lucky if he avoids nerve damage.’ I’m not sure what that means, exactly, but I do know it means it will be at least eight weeks until he can use that arm again."

"How about placing the actual blame on the kids who hurt him for no goddamn reason? Eddie was trying to protect his friends, and in turn, Gareth tried to do the same. Gareth wouldn't have gotten hurt if you hadn't set your little minions on trying to hurt Eddie," Chrissy glared at him. "You're supposed to be an educator, but instead, you're turning this place into a battlefield and turning these kids against each other."

"Miss Cunningham, get out of this office, I will deal with you later," Higgins sighed.

"Chrissy - " Eddie started to say.

"NO!" Chrissy yelled. "I won't let you do this to him."

Higgins ignored her, proceeding to tell Eddie how Hellfire was finished. How Higgins had persuaded the staff not to let Eddie use their classrooms for his club. He told Eddie that they needed a faculty sponsor, and Eddie jumped at the chance to tell him that he'll find a sponsor, that he'll register the club.

"I'm asking you not to," Higgins said, and Chrissy didn't like the tone of his voice. "Let's talk about Veronica Ecker."

"She doesn't have anything to do with this, " Eddie and Chrissy said.

"This afternoon, she was involved in a serious brawl on school property. This is the sort of act that universities find…shall we say, significant? Or maybe the better word would be consequential. Which is to say, there are often consequences." He shook his head. "We were all so proud of her for overcoming her beginnings. NYU! A marvelous school. A terrific opportunity for a bright young woman. And to pile on a full scholarship on top of that achievement?”

Chrissy felt like someone punched her in the stomach, and she could only watch as Higgins blackmailed Eddie into dropping out. She grabbed Eddie's shoulder, gripping it tightly.

"Why me?" Eddie asked. "You’re right. I’m number one on the shit list of everybody in this school. In this town. And I honestly don’t know how I got there. I was hoping you did since you’ve got such a clear picture of what I should be doing with my life."

"Because it's just who you are," Higgins said.

"Eddie, it's not who you are. We can figure this out. We can talk to Hop," Chrissy pleaded with him.

"Ronnie's your friend, too, Chrissy," Eddie whispered. "Could you live with it? If she lost everything because. . .because of me."

"Eddie," Chrissy said softly.

Looking at him, she knew there wasn't anything that she could do to change his mind. He already made it up.

"Then congratulations, Principal Higgins," Eddie said. "You're looking at Hawkins High's newest dropout."

He didn't bother waiting to hear what he had to say, Eddie stormed out of the office. Chrissy gave Higgins a withering glare before following Eddie. They both brushed past Ronnie, who looked confused.

"I need to talk to him first," Chrissy said quickly and ran out of the main office.

The hallway was empty as Eddie walked quickly away from her. She cursed her short legs as she hurried to catch up to him.

"Go away, Chrissy," Eddie said, his voice thick.

When she was close enough to him, she managed to grab his arm and pull him around to face her. Eddie was crying.

"You don't have to do this," Chrissy said softly.

"Except that I do. There's no other option for me," Eddie sniffled. "I can't stay here and watch people suffer because this whole fucking town is determined to hate me. I love this town, but their hatred is going to kill me. Chrissy, I can't stay, they won't let me."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, her heartbreaking for him.

"You would let me stay, though, wouldn't you?" He asked.

"In a heartbeat," she replied.

"I can't let them hurt you either," he said, shaking his head. "I know there isn't anything that I can do to make up for what I said. . ."

"You suffered enough, I think," Chrissy said.

She moved closer to Eddie and placed her hand on his chest. He placed his hand over hers and held it close to his heart.

"If I could, I would pick you up and put you in my pocket, take you with me," Eddie said. "Your place is still here, though."

"Yeah," she said, and the tears burst out of her. "This isn't fair!"

"I know, sweetheart," Eddie said and cupped her cheek with his free hand.

"Eddie, I lo - ," Chrissy started to say, but Eddie quickly put her hand over her mouth.

"If you say it, I'll stay," he whispered. "And I can't do that to Ronnie. I can't do that to you. If I stay, they'll keep hating me, and I'll just be this Eddie shaped ball of resentment knowing that they're going after the ones that I lo - ,"

Chrissy licked his hand, and he yelped, pulling his hand back.

"If you say it, I'll follow," she whispered, and he pulled her into a tight hug. "My freak."

"My witch," Eddie whispered.

"You know, we met once in middle school. We had this moment, so small, yet so significant. It should have just ended there, but who would have thought we would meet again years later," Chrissy said.

"Maybe we'll meet again," he said.

"I'll be in the front row of your very filled out concert, packed with fans. I'll be cheering for you," Chrissy said, more tears slipping out.

"I'll be singing for you," he whispered. "It's always for you."

Chrissy wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her face into his chest. He held onto her, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. He pulled back, brushing her tears away with his thumb.

"I still owe you," Eddie said. "How about some ice cream?"

"Sounds perfect," Chrissy said.

They started walking out of the school, and Chrissy reached over to interlock their fingers together. It should feel like the end of something, but why does it feel like it was only the beginning?

Chapter Twelve

[formula-fun]

hi there, let me walk you throught the last few days of my life

saw a list of history recommendations here on tumblr last Friday, saw the series if I had words there and thought "well let's give it a shot!"

started reading Friday night, got obsessed with it, couldn't stop, finished max's part Sunday, a little after the race.

got sad it ended and then VERY happy when I remember about the other part!!

started reading Sunday afternoon, got obsessed with it, couldn't stop, finished charles' part five minutes ago

All of this to day, I AM IN LOVE WITH YOUR WORK 😭😭😭

like WTH IS SOO GOOD

the construction, the order of the events, seeing everything fall into place after reading both parts, max learning to grow older and softer, charles understanding his feelings and letting himself have nice things, their mom's, the packs, the I love yous, oh my GOD 😭😭

broke my heart when I reached the end because I could keep read more and more and more of those two maybe forever??

definitely interest in a sequel or spin off or any little crumb showing just a peek of them again

again, amazing work, absolutely brilliant all around (and I was always laughing at your notes hahaha)

sending love !!

😭😭😭😭😭😭 thank youuuuuu i literally cannot tell you how much i love this, hhh. I DO NOT HAVE WORDS

this fic is truly my child, i put so much time and attention into it and i love the way it turned out so much <33 ive never allowed myself to just take my time on something and keep scrapping it over and over until it was exactly how i wanted it, but i'm so glad i did! it makes me really happy that other people appreciate the care that went into it and appreciate the way everything falls into place. i promise it was HEADACHE inducing at times to write two different stories about the same event but it was also really really fun

and thank you abt notes ahhahsahs i do NOT put as much effort into my notes. i usually write my notes at the last second after editing for like 3 hrs straight and just roll on vibes, so im glad you enjoy that <33

dfkjdfksd i'm running low on crumbs but you can have this!! it's from a version of the final chapter in which jos DID tell the press about the miscarriage

Max wakes him up with a kiss at the base of his neck, and then one on his mouth that lingers sweetly. His hands are hesitant on Charles’ waist, his touch light and skittish, which Charles always hates. Charles tells him so, and Max lets out a husky laugh.

“You want more?” he asks, his tone still hesitant even when his eyes are dancing. It makes Charles roll his own eyes, and then roll him; pin him down into the mattress by his wrists and bite at his jaw.

“I want you to touch me like you mean it,” he mutters into his skin.

Max’s wrists flex beneath his grip, muscles coiled and ready to fight. His mouth is curved when Charles kisses it, but he bites Charles’ lip anyway.

“Mean what?” Max whispers against his mouth when they part.

That I’m yours, Charles thinks, but he doesn’t say it. He can’t say it. He can’t really admit to something like that, yet; can’t allow himself to, even if he already knows it’s halfway true. He wants to mean it when he says it, and Max—Max hasn’t chosen him yet.

“That you want me,” Charles says instead. He brushes his nose against Max’s jawline; against his pulse point; follows the line of his throat down to the spot where his mark would go and lets his breath dance over it. Max’s chest goes stone still beneath his own.

Charles ducks forward and brushes a chaste kiss there, as softly as he can. Max shivers beneath him, his eyelids fluttering shut. His tendons shift under Charles’ palms as his hands clench into loose fists.

“Do you—”

In a blink they’re rolling over, Max pressing him down, one hand at the small of his back and the other beneath his knee. Max kisses him hard.

“Like I couldn’t,” Max hisses against his mouth when they part. “What kind of question is that?”

Charles just quirks an eyebrow. “Show me,” he says simply.

For a while, he’s able to forget about it all.

Of course it only lasts as long for it takes the two of them to shower, get dressed and part ways; as soon as he arrives in the paddock he’s swarmed. It’s not the fans—they’re not allowed back here today—or even that people are yelling questions. People know not to try; not when paddock passes can get revoked and fines can be given.

They don’t do anything so stupid, but it doesn’t matter. The scrutiny is just as bad; two dozen cameras following his every move as if waiting for him to do something.

He breathes a sigh of relief as he ducks into the Ferrari hospitality. Andrea slips in after him, and he’s kind enough not to say anything about the way Charles is morosely stuffing biscuits from the coffee bar into his mouth.

“I called your pack off,” he tells Charles, making himself an espresso. He almost manages to look disinterested while he does it.

Charles just raises his eyebrows. “Did you?”

“Well, Pierre did. They didn’t really listen to me.” He dumps two sugars into his coffee, stirring a little aggressively, and then rolls his eyes at the look Charles is giving him. “Oh, leave me alone. It’s been a stressful morning. How are you doing?”

Charles shrugs. “We knew this was going to happen,” he points out.

“Yeah, I know. That wasn’t really my question.”

“I’m,” Charles starts, then looks down at his biscuit; the crescent bite taken out of it. “It’s fine. I don’t think it has fully hit me yet.”

Andrea purses his lips. He nods. “Fred said they’re not allowed to ask any questions about it in the presser. You’re with Pierre, Alex, Oscar and George, so even if someone tries something, you won’t be alone. It was the best we could do.”

“Max?” Charles asks, in spite of himself.

Andrea’s lips somehow purse even harder. “The FIA was strongly advised to give him a week off.”

“But not me.”

“You wouldn’t want a week off.”

Charles hums. That’s true.

“Besides,” Andrea adds in an undertone, “I know you will want to set an example that this is not to be discussed in the paddock. It’s not Fred’s decision, obviously, but…”

“But you don’t trust Max to be able to do the same,” Charles finishes for him.

“I trust him,” Andrea argues. “I trust him to say what we’re all thinking, which is that this is stupid and everyone should fuck off. I just also know that will only make things worse.”

Charles tilts his head, conceding the point. He breaks a crumb off his biscuit; pushes it past his lips.

“Is he alright?” Andrea asks after a beat, his voice quiet. “After last night?”

Andrea had been the one to check on them when they hadn’t reemerged from the bedroom suite, only to find them curled up on the bed, Max having finally passed out. Charles had kissed his forehead before slipping out to join the media strategy session; had pulled the duvet over him as he went. He’d called room service after everyone had finally left, coaxing Max into eating comfort food in bed with him, some meaningless travel show playing in the background, giving Max’s red-rimmed eyes somewhere to drift when they refused to meet Charles’ own.

“He’s fine,” Charles mutters, then scrubs at his hair. “Or he will be fine. I don’t know. He has this stupid idea that he has to be the strong one all the time. He doesn’t feel like he should need me when I am the one who everyone is talking about, and when he thinks it is all his fault.”

“Why does he think that?” Andrea asks.

“Because Jos was the only one who could have told them. Nobody else knew. And Max was the one who told Jos.”

Andrea chews that over, sipping his coffee.

“I don’t know why it matters,” Charles adds. “It is out now. It doesn’t matter how it got out.”

“You could always sue Jos,” Andrea muses. “Defamation or whatever.”

“It’s not worth it.”

“Isn’t it?”

Charles shrugs. Maybe it would give him some sense of satisfaction; probably not. “It would just give the media more to talk about,” he says. “It would make Max feel worse. I would gain nothing. It was going to come out eventually anyway,” he adds. “It was always a matter of time, wasn’t it?”

Andrea grimaces. “It’s hard to say,” he admits, “but these things tend to not stay secrets for long.”

[simping4villains]

As requested, here’s the fourth chapter of my latest Shiggy fic, Losing Streak. I update more regularly on Wattpad and ao3, so check there for more chapters! I’m also happy to take requests so dm me if you’ve got one <3

~~~~~

Warning: Sexual content, non-con elements

   You decided to skip the rest of your classes that day. It wasn't like you could've actually focused anyway. You received a few concerned replies from your professors after your initial email letting them know you'd be absent. It wasn't like you to miss a lecture.

   You laid in bed for the rest of the afternoon. You didn't even bother getting up to turn a light on once the sun had set, instead letting your bedroom remain dimly lit by the blue light of your phone as you aimlessly scrolled through social media. It was a pathetic attempt to try and distract yourself from what you'd be doing later that night.

   No matter how many hair tutorials and life hack videos you watched, you still couldn't shake the questions that bounced around inside your head. How did those photos come into existence? How could you stop them from being spread? And, most importantly, was there a way to do it without having to fuck Shigaraki?

   You weren't sure what was worse: the thought of having sex with him or the very real possibility that you might've done it already. That was what the photos led you to believe, anyway.

   A knock sounded at your door. You didn't respond, but Hana let herself in anyway.

   "You're still in bed? You should be getting ready."

   She was right. You had to leave soon. Though it wasn't like Shigaraki struck you as the kind of guy who'd care if you put any effort into your appearance or not. He had demanded a blowjob from you while you were wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, after all.

   "The guys are going to be here soon."

   You looked up at her, confused. "The guys?"

   "Oh my god. Don't tell me you forgot?"

   "What?"

   "The party? The one we're hosting in like twenty minutes?"

   "Party? I thought it was just the two teams coming over."

   "It is, but you know how the guys can get."'

   You did, which is exactly why you hadn't wanted them in your home in the first place. At least this meant your time with Shigaraki would have a silver lining—that you would have an excuse to miss all the 'fun.'

   "I won't be around tonight," you told her.

   "What? But when I asked the other day you said you were free. What are you doing?"

   "I'm supposed to meet up with Shigaraki."

   You hoped you'd said it casually enough that she'd connect a different set of dots and think the two of you were just studying. She took the bait.

   "On a Friday night? Just cancel! We have so much time left for those stupid projects anyway."

   "I can't. It's important."

   "More important than bonding with your team? Don't you want to make captain next year?"

   You did. Hana was a year above you, and before she graduated she'd be giving the coach her recommendation for who she thought should take her place. You couldn't imagine she'd recommend anyone but you—she knew how strong your work ethic was—still, her frustration was palpable.

   You bit your cheek, wondering how lenient Shigaraki might be. "I mean, I can ask him if he's alright with rescheduling."

   "Let me know what he says," she called over her shoulder as she left, closing your door again.

   You pulled up your conversation with him on your phone.

You: "Hey, I forgot I have a team thing tonight. . ."

   His response was immediate.

Shigaraki: "Skip it."

You: "Can't we just reschedule?"

Shigaraki: "I don't like to be kept waiting."

You: "What's one more day?"

Shigaraki: "What's 5,000 people seeing your tits?"

You: "Fine."

Shigaraki: "Don't be late."

   You wanted to push back and write 'Or what?' but you worried he'd take it as a challenge to make your night hell. So instead, you rolled out of bed, grabbed your bag, and headed downstairs. Hana, Akiko, and your other roommate, Jin, were all in the living room, dressed in their usual party attire of ripped jeans and crop tops. They were pulling out packages of red solo cups and setting up a beer pong table.

   "That doesn't look like a party outfit," Jin joked as she saw you.

   You hadn't bothered changing or anything. You were still in the same hoodie and sweatpants you'd thrown on in a rush that morning.

   Hana looked up at you and frowned. "I'm guessing this means you couldn't get out of it?"

   You nodded.

   "Wait, what?" Akiko asked, looking between the two of you. "Are you skipping out on tonight?"

   "Yeah, sorry."

   Hana turned to her. "She's ditching us for a boy."

   Akiko gasped. "No way! Y/n never dates! Who is it?"

   You rolled your eyes. "It's not like that at all."

   "It's Shigaraki," Hana said.

   Akiko's expression fell, going from excited to horrified in seconds.

   "We're just doing homework," you assured her. "It's not like I want to hang out with him."

   Hana shrugged. "Then don't."

   "Come on, cut her some slack," Jin said. "You know how she is about grades. Besides, I'm sure she already feels bad enough just missing out on the party."

   Honestly, you were glad to miss the party, and you had a feeling that Jin could tell, but you appreciated her sticking up for you nonetheless.

   "Well, there's always the next one," Hana conceded. "Don't work too hard."

   "Thanks," you smiled. "Have fun tonight. Tell the team I said 'hey.'"

   "Will do," she smiled back.

   They waved you off and you began your funeral march across campus. You shrugged against the chill of the air, once again having forgotten to grab your jacket on your way out of the house. At least earlier the sun had been out to help a bit, but it had set hours ago. You hated how short the days were in the fall.

   The address Shigaraki had given you was for an apartment building kind of down the block from the pub you'd stopped at the night before. You were a bit worried you wouldn't make it in time, but you knocked on his door with seven minutes to spare. To your surprise, he wasn't the one to answer. It was another boy with acne-scarred skin and spiky pink hair that pointed every which way.

   "Oh, sorry. I think I must have the wrong address."

   He looked at you with disbelief. "Are you Y/n?"

   "Yes."

   "Shiggs, she's here!" He called over his shoulder before stepping aside and gesturing for you to come in. Hesitantly, you did. "He's gaming, but you can just go in. His room is down there on the right." He pointed toward the end of the hallway.

   "Thanks."

   You followed his directions to Shigaraki's door. No response came when you knocked. Feeling uncertain, you looked back at the other boy to find him nodding and gesturing for you to go in.

   Taking a deep breath to collect yourself, you turned the knob. Immediately, you were met with a distinct smell—it was that of a typical college boy's dorm, only ten times worse. The air in the room felt incredibly stale and almost muggy. Shigaraki didn't look up when you came in. Like the other boy had said, he was busy gaming.

   "Hey," you greeted, shutting the door behind you.

   "Hey," he mumbled in response, not bothering to peel his eyes from the screen. "Gonna be a sec."

   You frowned. It pissed you off that he'd made such a fuss about you being on time, but here he was making you wait around. You threw your bag down and moved to stand next to him, crossing your arms over your chest. "You know you picked the time I was supposed to get here, right?"

   "I wasn't sure you'd actually show."

   You scoffed. "As if you gave me a choice."

   "Just have a seat. I'm almost done."

   You looked around the room for a spot to sit while you waited for him to finish. The only source of light was his computer screen, but even that was enough for you to be able to tell that his bedroom was an absolute mess. There were empty cans and piles of dirty clothes strewn about. Not only was his bed unmade, but it didn't even seem to have a sheet on it from what you could tell. Unless you felt like clearing a spot on the floor, there was nowhere to sit.

   "Uh, do you have an extra chair?"

   He didn't answer, just wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap. You yelped as you crashed into him.

   "Relax. You're fine. No need to be so dramatic."

   "This isn't what I meant when I asked for a chair, you know."

   "Yeah, I know," He replied casually, resting his head on your shoulder so that he could see the screen. "But isn't this more comfortable?"

   "No, it's not," you insisted, shifting to keep his knees from jabbing into your thighs.

   His breath hitched. "Mm maybe don't move around too much."

   You froze, panicking as you realized that it you could feel his cock getting harder beneath you.

   He couldn't help but smirk when he felt you stiffen. He loved getting to watch you squirm when you were uncomfortable. It was cute seeing you all flustered. To add to it, he leaned in and whispered, "Unless you're trying to start something. Which, in that case. . ."

   Pausing his game, he snaked one of his hands underneath your sweatshirt. When he reached your chest he snorted. "No bra? Damn, you really did want this, huh?"

   "No, I didn't!" you snapped. "I was just in a rush."

   The first time. Why hadn't you put one on before leaving that night though? You'd had all day. Maybe you figured there was no point. Deep down, you knew where the night was headed.

   He started kneading your chest. "This whole time I thought you were some uptight bitch, but really you love being treated like a little slut."

   "No, I do—ah!"

   He pinched one of your nipples.

   "Oh, you liked that?"

   You did, but you would absolutely never admit that to him. You shook your head.

   "Really? I don't believe you."

   He started rolling the sensitive bud between the tips of his fingers. You bit your tongue, trying to choke back a moan.

   "Come on, no need to hold back for me."

   His other hand reached up to your jaw, gripping it in a way that forced it open. You couldn't help the breathy moan that escaped as his fingers kept working your chest.

   He snickered. "I knew it."

   You hated him so much, but not as much as you hated your own body for actually enjoying what he was doing to you. Despite how much you tried to fight it, heat was quickly building between your legs as if you really did want him to be touching you like that. You couldn't let him think he was right about you.

   He shifted his legs so that one of them was wedged between yours. You knew what he wanted you to do before he even said it. "Ride."

   "W-What? No!"

   He yanked your head back by your hair so that he spoke directly in your ear. "I'm sorry, did it sound like a request? Fucking do it."

   Timidly, you rocked your hips. You couldn't stand the way your body welcomed the friction, taking pleasure in it.

   "Don't stop until you come," he said.

   It was meant to be humiliating. He wanted to break you down and make you feel worthless. So then why were you enjoying it so much? Each time your clothed cunt dragged against him felt like ecstasy—like your body was being given exactly what it needed.

   "That's it," he encouraged as another moan escaped you.

   His mouth found its way to your neck. The rough friction of his lips caused you to shiver. Of course, it didn't go unnoticed by Shigaraki. You could feel him smirking against your skin before he latched onto you, sucking a bruise just above your collar bone. He let go with a 'pop' and pulled away to admire his work, humming in satisfaction.

   "I'm going to mark you up so that everyone knows you're mine."

   "I'm n-not," you protested weakly, barely able to get the words past another moan.

   He only laughed at you. "Are you joking? Look at the way you're falling apart on my thigh. Are you telling me that you act like this for just anyone?"

   The truth was, he was right. The sex you'd had in the past was pretty vanilla. You wouldn't normally be taking orders and humiliating yourself the way you were now, and you'd never been this close to coming with someone else—So. Fucking. Close.—but it's not like it was because of him. You were the one doing all of the work, after all.

   "I asked you a question," he growled, grabbing your hair in a threat to pull again.

   "I—ngh—" You were seconds away from coming undone. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to pretend you were anywhere but in Shigaraki's bedroom, using him to get off.

   "Oh my god. Are you coming?" He asked, suddenly excited. "Are you actually fucking coming right now?"

   "Shut up."

   Even with your eyes closed, you could tell he didn't like that response. He grabbed your jaw, prying it open so he could shove his fingers in your mouth. You weren't sure if he wanted you to suck on them or if he just wanted to teach you a lesson for talking back, but either way, you bit them as you came. Surprisingly, he didn't complain.

   Before you had a chance to come back to earth, he told you to turn around. You didn't want to, but obeyed. He shifted so that you were straddling him. In this position, you could feel how hard he was. It made your stomach churn anxiously as you wondered how he'd make you deal with that.

   He moved his hand between the two of you, reaching to slide it under the waistband of your sweatpants. Your immediate reaction was to try to stop him. You grabbed his wrist, which only earned you a warning glare.

   You had to play by his rules if you wanted to save your reputation.

   You let go, feeling even more nauseous than before as his spindly fingers dipped under your panties, coming into contact with your clit. You drew in a sharp breath. You were still so sensitive.

   You hated the grin that spread across his face. "You really are a slut after all, huh? You're fucking soaked."

   You couldn't even respond because you were too busy proving his point, moaning as his fingers explored your folds, curling inside of you. Your hands found their way to his hair, lightly tugging as if begging for more. God, you'd never hated yourself so much in your life.

   His eyes watched your every reaction as his fingers explored deeper, dragging over that spot that made your brows knit together each time he pulled them out. He'd never really thought about kissing anyone until he met you—until you fell so perfectly into his lap. And here you were now, practically writhing from his every touch, not daring to refuse him. So why was he so nervous?

   You tugged at his hair again—god, he loved when you did that—and he decided that it meant you were trying to pull him closer. It meant that you wanted him. So, he closed his eyes and leaned in to kiss you.

   It was sloppy. He didn't really know what he was doing and you didn't seem particularly interested in kissing back. He decided you were probably too distracted by what his hands were doing to actually try. He'd started hitting that spot your liked more aggressively. He wanted to be the one to make you come, to watch as you unraveled at his touch, and he could tell it was working. He kissed you deeper as he felt your walls starting to clench, happily swallowing your moans as they entered his mouth. For a moment it felt like maybe you had kissed him back, but he could have been imagining it.

   He pulled away so he could look at you. Your eyes were still closed and your breathing was heavy. A sense of pride bubbled in his chest knowing he'd actually managed to make you feel good.

   Maybe he wasn't such a hopeless virgin after all.

   You opened your eyes again to find him staring at you with wonder, like you were the most incredible thing he'd ever seen. Like you were something to be had. You were worried he was going to try to kiss you again, but instead he opened his mouth, tugged at your waistband, and said the last thing you wanted to hear.

   "Take these off so I can fuck you already."

[umemiyan]

Happy Friday Robin!! ❤️ tell me, what does the weekend routine look like in the Aviary?

HELLO MY WONDERFUL PRECIOUS sorry i didn’t answer this last night i was so damn tired fjdndjskks

but omg okay so weekends are reserved for family fun time <3 aka all the little birdies are forced to get together and do activities because mother says so. also in my fantasy land i don’t work on weekends, so this is actually possible LMAO

on saturday we’ll usually go out and do something or maybe stay home and do like a movie marathon or game night or something like that. it depends on the activity but we usually end up leaving the house sometime in the early afternoon because it takes everyone a while to get ready, but i’ve devised a plan that somewhat moves everything along a little bit faster

belphie and nagi have to get their asses up. i usually employ the help of either tanjiro or suga for this because they’re good motivators while also being capable of gentleness to avoid irritation. hajime can also be good for tasks like these.

denki has to decide which jacket and cologne he wants to wear. hajime has to fix his hair. oikawa’s taking mirror selfies. i have to be kissy kissy with katsuki to keep him from blowing up because “all you damn extras are taking too long” etc. even tho i'm lowkey feeling the same way. it’s a whole process truly, like taking a huge family with lots of children out

some of my good boys like megumi are just sitting off to the side waiting because he in particular has been up since 6am. yuuta’s there with him because that bitch barely sleeps

i usually try to have everybody ready to go by a certain time, but depending on the progress that’s made we sometimes split up. hajime or someone will be like “you go ahead and take those guys and i’ll get everyone else rounded up. we’ll be right behind you.” so me and my little brigade of punctual/efficient babies are loading up in the van to go to the mall or whatever LOL

sundays are way more chill like everyone is just getting up whenever they want and tanjiro will probably try to make two or three different waves of breakfast because he feels bad if somebody misses it fkdjdkdjdn i’m like “tanjiro it’s okay they can just have cereal” but he’s literally already cracking eggs into the pan

everyone’s mostly just chilling around watching tv/movies or playing games with some designated chores mixed in. it’s not an organized family event but it may end up being a whole group thing depending on what we’re watching or doing. even katsuki’s competitive ass cannot resist a mario kart tournament or something djdjsksjje

anyways yeah we’re a big insane family but it’s so much fun <3 oh and we usually have a nice homemade dinner on sunday evening!!! most everyone ends up pitching in one way or another whether it be cooking or setting the table because they’re not allowed near the stove lmfao

[fandomfluffandfuck]

S!! i just reread Cant Explain All The Ways You Get Me High and i’m here to give you double the kudos bc god it’s fantastic 🔥 Honestly that one and I’d Fuck Me are some of my favorites—guess I have a soft spot for your solo scenes! Would you ever explore the inverse, with sub!bucky or seb taking care of themselves? What are the differences there between how steve/chris do it?

Can't Explain All The Ways You Get Me High

I'd Fuck Me

You know, I genuinely never noticed that among those solo, jerk off, fantasy scenes, I've only included the tops and/or doms. Huh. That's interesting. I mean, literally, there's also a scene in my "For Beginners" series with Chris fantasizing about Seb subbing for him...

Chapter One of Accept It

Maybe it'd because I'm a dom? So that sort of fantasizing is closer to my heart? Maybe it's just a coincidence, lol. Who knows 🤷🏻‍♂️

Anyway--

I think it would be pretty similar, I mean, the thoughts going on would be different, of course, but very much that same heady, frantic headspace as they barrel toward orgasm.

I'm not taking requests at this time, but sometimes I can't help myself...

Immediately, I had something in mind for Sebastian:

It's been a while for Sebastian--a while since he's gotten off with all of the work he's been doing (what feels like 15 different projects all that once, he swears) and the resulting exhaustion, and it's been a while since he's seen Chris with the way their careers stretches them apart all too often. So... orgasming hasn't exactly been his top priority. However, he's got the afternoon off. Somehow, after the early morning and late nights and their dedication, his director has decided they all need an early end for this Friday.

Thank. god.

And, with his time off, his thoughts unbusied, it's the tiniest thing that sets him off.

With their dynamic and how Sebastian gets, Chris will regularly send him orders when they're apart. It helps keep Sebastian from being overwhelmed with the need to submit here and now and being unable to, shutting down instead. Order this for dinner. Wear that pair of boxer briefs today. Chose this for the premier. Prep your meals for a week. Send me a photo of you when you have a minute. Sebastian eagerly fumbles to do as Chris says, especially eager the longer they've been apart. Craving a moment of calm, both-feet-on-the-ground steadiness that comes with Chris' pride. His approval. Even if it's just a text--

Good boy.

--or if it's more of a treat like a FaceTime call or rumbling voice memo.

"You're such a good boy, Sebastian."

that leaves Sebastian with chills, head to toe, and a helpless erection.

This time, what sets him off is Chris' reminder that he needs to have real food for, at least, one meal today. He's off set, so he should find something other than what he could get at crafty. Some protiens and healthy fats. Then, when Sebastian sends him a snap of his finished plate, Chris sends him another order as if he can feel that Seb needs to occupy his mind, playing into their push pull.

Make sure to clean it up properly.

Sebastian hand washes the fucking plate, silverware, and glass, despite the equally avaliable and usable dishwasher in his rented apartment nearby to the location they're filming at.

Done!

Sebastian texts him back.

Perfect.

It's one word. And yet...

It hits Sebastian like kick to the chest. He stares at the word, biting his lip. He doesn't expect more. He knows Chris is still working himself. It's more than enough that he's even able to send him a few words back and forth. He's not looking for a follow-up. He's just staring at the word.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Sebastian can hear Chris' voice sliding over the syllables in his head. It echoes through him, leaving his toes curling against the kitchen tile while his eyes slide shut, vividly imagining himself at home with his dom. He's just finished preparing dinner for Chris, home cooked--something simple that he can manage without too much thought, but enough that Chris knows he put effort into it--he set the table, he served Chris his food, then he sat at the table with Chris, watched Chris eat with Chris savoring each bite with smooth swallows and heartfelt moans of approval at the taste, he let (what a hardship) Chris hand feed him bites when he so desired, and he cleaned up their dishes and table, hand washing everything. He wants to. And, now...

Sebastian feels a wobble in his knees, so he lets his phone clatter onto the countertop and grasps it tightly instead.

Now, in his mind, Chris is stalking up behind him and Sebastian's heart is in his throat, ready and waiting for Chris to crowd him against the counter and cabinets and put those big, heavy, commanding hands all over his body. Pawing at him. He wants it. He aches for Chris to bend him over the sink and fill him up, fuck him hard and fast and dirty, while he tells him that he's good. He did good. He served him so well. He takes care of him so perfectly, now he's gonna take care of his perfect sub--gonna take him and use him like he craves.

Chris doesn't.

Not even Sebastian's imaginary Chris bends to his will. He's in charge. He will do what he pleases, and Sebastian will obey his word.

Submit.

Imaginary Chris bypasses him and goes to the fridge instead, bending over--oh, Lord, that's a sight--to reach the bottom shelf on the door where the beer lives, happily awaiting to be drank.

Sebastian dries his hands from the dishes... imagined and real. Imagined, he wants to turn and watch Chris' skillful, beautiful hands crack open the bottle. He doesn't. Real, he stands in place, letting his imagination pull him away, deeper, with how imaginary Chris walks right past him again, this time sparing one hand just to proprietorily draaaag his palm against the small of the back, "join me in the living room."

It's not a question, seeking company, maybe. If you like. But, hopefully. Join me? It's a command.

Everything in Sebastian wants to follow. The gravity makes his muscles weak.

Sebastian follows.

He follows Chris like a lovesick puppy, trailing after him and panting when he arranges himself on the sofa. Always so alluring that it's unfair. How is Sebastian supposed to do anything when his lover exists in such a state? Lounging about, casually, but perfect enough to have come straight out of a photoshoot. Thick, strong thighs spread wide, giving himself room, one arm over the back of the furniture, draped and taking up all the space he likes, commanding all of the suddenly humid air in the room with a heavy, dark look in his eyes.

Sebastian swallows, saliva flooding his mouth.

Meanwhile, Chris' other hand, having come to rest on his knee before, now mimes a gesture or two that's irresistible.

Kneel.

Come here.

Sebastian's eyes fly open, shattering the delicious fantasy his mind is painting. The image so real, so much ink, that it's spilling into his real life. He can't. Sebastian whimpers out loud.

Jesus Christ.

Even in the cold light of his real, afternoon kitchen, there's that pull inside him, forcing him from his comfortable center of gravity. Like missing a step on the stairs. Exhilarating. Heart hammering.

He needs.

The ache is now terrible inside him.

More than he needs anything else, he needs to be between Chris' thighs. That's where he belongs. His vision starts to go a little hazy and useless around the corners at just the thought. Chris towering over him. Powerful and authoritative. It's been too long.

And now Seb can feel the phantom heat of Chris' knees pressing against his shoulders and the weight of Chris' hand on his head, his blunt fingernails scratching his scalp, running through his hair and messing it up. He can feel the friction of denim jeans or cotton sweats or mesh basketball shorts against his cheek, muzzling into Chris where he's packed into whatever the fuck he's wearing but shouldn't be. He should never be clothed. He should--

Fuck me.

He should be between Chris' legs.

Sebastian blinks harshly a few times, trying to clear his vision and push away the raw throb that has begun to spread from deep in his gut to the base of his cock.

Impulsively, he snatches one of his hands away from his white-knuckle hold on the counter, intending to press the heel of his palm up against himself, but--

He whines again.

Here?

He looks around, taking inventory of his current situation, Sebastian gets distracted as his eyes land on his phone, and he recalls that damn text.

Perfect.

Glittering pleasure of praise from his dominant crackles through Sebastian like a lightning strike. All over again. Suddenly, he is back between Chris' thighs. Warm and crowded and so close to falling forward and mouthing at the bulge of his hardening cock in his sweats. Overcome by hunger. He can smell his arousal. Jesus. Seb wants to melt. He wants--

He can't fucking jerk off in the kitchen of a rental.

Can he?

Sebastian whimpers to the empty room. It offers him no comfort. Not a sound.

No.

Not here.

Quickly, Sebastian snatches his phone and dashes on clumsy legs to the bedroom. He's intending on texting Chris, asking him if it's possible for him to steal a few moments away. Sebastian just wants to hear his voice. For a minute. He wants it gruff and pressed right up against his ear, telling him he's perfect and good, and, and tell him--

Sebastian flushes hot, just thinking it. Admitting it to himself for the hundredth time. No matter, it always makes him squirm.

He wants Chris to tell him he's pretty.

He wants Chris to tell him he wants to put him on display and show everyone how good and pretty and perfect and odient he is. And--

Sebastian ends up distracted. His phone ends up on the bed, where he intends to also be. Lying back, relaxing, shoving a hand haphazardly down his pants to let Chris talk him off while he incoherently whines and moans and begs, the closest they can get when so, so far apart, but... he doesn't make it.

He doesn't even make it that far.

Instead, Sebastian gasps to himself, embarrassment making his cock pulse, thinking about how Chris would answer the phone and peel the mortifying words out of his mouth, make him admit how needy he is, then tell him he'a such a good boy for admitting it and he bet he looks so pretty, flushed and horny, and... Sebastian stumbles.

He ends up on his knees.

And.

He can't get back up. Aching. He's on his knees in his rented bedroom, near to the bed, but also too far away for it to be worth it to move again when he's so fucking hard.

The back of his eyelids are painted with the sights and sounds and sensations of their living room. Hardwood floors bite sweetly into his knees. Chris' cologne and laundry detergent clinging to his clothes, fading and turned darker the closer Sebastian leans into him, sweat and musk and arousal. Chris' hands on him. Holding his shoulders. Entwinted in his hair. On his throat or the nape of his neck, squeezing. Holding. Chris' voice rumbling through him, leaving him aching. Aching. Sebastian wants--

He wants Chris' cock out of his pants and in his mouth.

He wants to stare up at Chris' face, contorted obscenely into an expression of heat and pleasure, flushed and slack, as the weight and taste of his thick cock fills Sebastian's mouth. Heavy on his tongue. Coating his throat with the taste. Stretching his lips. Chris' hips pressed against his face, forcing him down his throat and making it hard to breathe in the most incredible way. Sebastian doesn't need to breathe. He needs to taste, to suck, to lick, to kiss, to gag and choke and cry.

He wants to cry on his cock.

He wants Chris to stare down at him over the handsome line of his nose and smirk. He wants Chris to tell him he's got such a good fucking mouth through a drawn-out groan. He wants to hear Chris moan through gritted teeth. He wants to have Chris cum down his throat and make Sebastian swallow, then lick him clean, then keep him warm while he finally drinks the beer he brought into the living room with him, watching the game, and keeping his needy submissive busy all at the same time. Multitasking.

Sebastian wants--

He wants--

Frantically, Seb shoves his hand into his sweatpants and cups his himself against his body, hissing with the temperature difference between his fingers and his heated, engorged dick.

In his mind, he's prolonging the moment of Chris' orgasm. The pornographic expression on his gorgeous face. Suspended in pleasure. The intense, incredible twitches and jerks of his cock as he pumps release onto Seb's tongue. The taste. The feeling. The way, oh, God, when Chris is really, really feeling himself, he'll reach down and recklessly plug Sebastian's nose as he shoves into his tight, wet, heat deeply. And Sebastian will spin. Sebastian will get dizzy. Sebastian will fly. His lungs aching to choke and sputter but not being able to. It all makes Seb so fucking hard. He's not in control. Chris knows what's good for him. Chris knows he's good. He's good.

He's so good!

Sebastian can't help but start to actually fist himself now. He's leaking enough to go faster. Faster. The friction is wearing his nerves down to raw wire, sparking and spitting electricity throughout his whole body. He's, oh, oh, he's--

It's so fucking intense, the images flashing through his mind. Now Chris has finished with him and Sebastian's chest is heaving, his lips buzzing, his mouth still stuffed full, tears and snot and spit running down his face, a complete mess, yet still pretty and perfect to Chris--for Chris. Sebastian helplessly cries out and loses his balance, his mind going haywire, imagining sucking Chris' still half-hard cock after he's finished, and grinding against his shin, feeling, feeling--

Good.

Obedient.

Sebastian falls forward, barely bracing himself against his now outstretched hand--the hand not wrapped around his cock--rather than faceplanting on the floor. His heart pounds in his chest. Lust rushes through him. Overpowering the fear. Pleasure rising and rising and--

"Gonna show me how pretty you are, baby? You gonna cum humping me with your mouth all full, jus' like you need, sweet boy?"

In his mind, in his fantasy, Sebastian cums with a muffled moan around Chris' dick. But, in his rented apartment, crumbling onto the floor next to his bed as if he might've been praying before he drifted off to sleep, he moans embarrassingly loudly. It's nearly a wail. It's like he's been hit over the back of the head. It hits him so fucking hard.

He's demolished as the pleasure crashes over him.

White-hot and ruining. Pumping wet, messy release into his hand and the inside of his boxer briefs. Humiliating and so, so good that he doesn't give a fuck.

"Atta, boy," Sebastian hears inside his own head, Chris' voice, as he achingly shakes through the last dregs of pleasure with a whine.

Oh, God.

But, (bratty) sub Bucky is pretty distinctive, too:

Steve's on a stupid fucking mission and he took his stupid fucking super dick with him (like an asshole) but, somehow, he didn't manage to take his stupid nuclear-level sex drive with him, too. Of all the things he has to leave behind! Fucking bastard.

He knows Bucky can't cope! And somehow, he still goes out there and fights the good fight despite being retired. Newsflash, Rogers, that ain't retired.

"Ugh," Bucky half groans, half moans, caught up in his thoughts, but also caught up in the physical sensations he's dealing with. Coping.

Steve's really left Bucky with no choice now. Not with his super libido bleeding over into Bucky, like, like--Bucky shivers, stifling a moan based on principle--bleeding into him like the hot, wet feeling of Steve fucking him with too much lube and then cumming inside him with his hurricane-like super-swimmers, pumping and pumping until Bucky swears he can see it stretching out his abs like he went too hard at dinner. Too much. Those goddamn swollen, heavy balls and...

"Guh." There's no stifling a dumb noise like that. It is what it is.

What is Bucky supposed to do but order via priority shipping and shove the biggest vibrating dildo he can up his ass?

This, this--

Bucky pants, his chest heaving, practically presenting his high, tight pecs and his begging-to-be-touched nipples. If someone was here to touch them! Bucky can't fight back a whimper, thinking about Steve's serum-hot, fever-hot body against his. His fingers--cruel and mean, plucking and twisting and pinching his nipples until they're puffy and raw, and Bucky is painting his belly white again. His mouth. Those lips. Plush, hot, and slick. Always just the tiniest bite of teeth that has Bucky shouting high in the back of his throat.

His cock jumps. Aching.

Fucking Steve.

This started out of spite. Bucky was bouncing on his fake cock, growling to himself, bratty and motivated. But it's devolved into something messy and pathetic and wet.

There are tears tracking shiny, salty paths down his cheeks when they're not being smeared into the sheets. It's really into a pillowcase. Not sheets. Steve's pillow. It still smells like him, and it's perfect for muffling the sniffling, howling moans that Bucky is pulling out of himself. He misses Steve's cock so much. He misses the rest of him, too. He misses the way he holds him down and pounds into him until Bucky is sure he'll finally fucking split into two. Hammering into him. Growling and grabbing him, throwing him around and making him take it. Bruising his hips and ass. Biting his shoulders, pulling his long hair until he's arched into a weak u-shape, every noise that Bucky has enough air to make fucked out of his wet, open mouth, "uh, uh, uh--"

Bucky aches for going dumb on Steve's cock.

He doesn't want to think! He wants to be able to do absolutely nothing. Fucked dumb.

He wants Steeeeeve!

Bucky whines to himself, his thighs quivering.

He's trying to replicate the magical ability Steve has to melt his brain out of his ears by giving himself as many orgasms as he can with the thick, heavy, vibrating toy shoved deep inside him. It's beginning to hurt. There's a puddle underneath him. Overflowing with pleasure. Yet, lust is still racing under his skin. It makes him whimper and squeeze the sheets in his fists.

He can hear Steve in his head, growling at him, smacking him around, goading him into another orgasm. The only one who can take Bucky; the only one who can hold him down and make him take it.

"C'mon, baby, I know that isn't all you got. You can take it. A cockslut like you? You can always take more. There's still spunk comin' outta'ya. I want you cummin' dry, darlin'. Then, then, I'll think about being done with you."

Instinctively, Bucky wants to do it. He wants to give it all to Steve. He has to. There's no other option.

So, he arches his back deeper. Blooming. His muscles complain, hurting with the stretch despite his daily yoga routine. He just can't--he's been at this for hours. He misses his fella bad.

He can't fucking be bothered, he's too frantically horny and too much of a spoiled pillow princess, to reach back and fuck his hot, puffy, wet hole with the vibrating toy. The closest he gets is jacking his cock. Even that's not normal, normally he has Steve to do that for him. Or, if Steve's not doing it for him because he's working too hard at working his cunt out--stringing him out until he's incoherent and stupid--Bucky is grinding against the bed, the couch, the floor, or whatever Steve has bent him over, unable to wait a minute longer. Right now, jerking off, he's so wet. His dick is swollen, and he can feel his pulse throbbing through it. He keens. Arching and spreading.

He feels fucked out and open but he knows he could be more. He could be hotter, he could be puffier, he could be wetter. If he pulled the dildo out of his hungry hole, he would be gaping. He could be gaping more if Steve had his way with him. Fucking him with that thick, thick cock, then getting frisky and sticking in his thumbs in alongside his dick. Prying him open. Wider and wider. Holding his hole open and feeling his own slick shaft thrusting in and pulling out as he ruins him.

He's thinking about Steve ruining him. He's thinking about Steve fucking him until he passes out--it ain't a true Rogers event until that happens, after all. He's thinking about Steve's strong fingers, scratching down his back, shamelessly groping his ass, and opening his hole. He's thinking about that fucking cock. He's thinking about--

Bucky doesn't want to think!

He wants to be ruined.

With an overwhelmed sob, Bucky collapses facefirst into his man's pillow and cums. Again. Crying out and jerking, soaking the bed.

The minute Steve gets home, he's demanding to be fucked within an inch of his life. Please. He'll get on his knees and beg. He'll break out the puppy-dog eyes and pout and beg. He'll offer to do whatever the hell, bendy painful (not hot, definitely, definitely. not. hot.) position his dog of a boyfriend wants. Anything. He neeeeeeeeds that dick.

[singsweetmelodies]

hullo everyone 👋❤️ it's me again, hi, and i'm back with yet another too-long, probably too-sentimental post. this one is also about a f1 rpf milestone of mine, because of course it is, but this time it's about YOU as well.

allow me to set the scene a little first: a few weeks ago, i was double-checking the date on my first ever f1 rpf fic so i could make my sappy "i can't believe it's been a year you guys" post at the right time. i was going through my AO3 stats, and in so doing i happened to glance over at my little user subscriptions count - and proceeded to nearly fall out of my seat, because that counter was at 98. WHAT.

now, i'm not usually the kind of person who makes a big deal about amounts of followers, or whatnot. that's not really why i'm in fandom. but there is one exception, and that exception is: AO3 user subscriptions. because an AO3 user subscription is like... you're pretty much saying "i like this person's writing so much that i want to get a fucking EMAIL when they post a new work." to me, that's one of the biggest compliments ever. (maybe it's just because i personally am very stingy about my AO3 user subscriptions, lmao - i think i have about twelve, currently, if it's even that much. so the fact that 98 of you liked my writing enough to want that? and it's only barely been a year since i posted my first fic to this account? that blew my fucking mind, in the best way ever.)

i remember thinking to myself, "ohhh, if i get a few more in a couple of months' time, i need to do a phoebe and have some sort of a fic giveaway to celebrate the big 100 <333"

well, today i checked again, and there are a hundred and seven user subscriptions to my AO3. a hundred and seven. and THAT is just... well fuck me, i don't think i even have the words to express how much that means to me. over a hundred of you ACTUALLY LIKE MY WRITING THAT MUCH??? i can't quite reconcile it in my head, but... it means everything. it really does. i am so, so honoured - and also mildly teary-eyed, and definitely about to say a whole bunch of way-too-sappy things. this fandom is just so incredible, and supportive, and... AAAHHH, i love you all so so much. thank you so much for loving me back ❤️❤️❤️ unlike the monaco gp and charles SORRY, i had to do it. ouch. i had to 🥲🙈❤️

anyways! i did promise a fic giveaway, even if it was just to myself, so GIVEAWAY TIME IT IS!! you have all given me so much - endless support, smiles and love - so this is me officially opening up my writing folder to give something back to you, in turn ❤️

how this is going to work is:

step 1: you have to interact with this post in some way. (and by that i mean either reblog or comment, not just a like. it doesn't have to be a complicated comment or anything - just a ❤️, if you want. but just something so i know you're not a bot, lmao.) you have until Friday the 23rd of June - which is to say, 16 days from now. yes, sixteen. of COURSE. <3

step 2: i collect the names/URLs of everyone who interacted, and put them into a random name picker thingy. i will then use that to - randomly! - pick a P1, P2 and P3. (the emphasis on "random" is because I KNOW there are going to be some of my friends accusing me of fixing the results. I'M NOT GOING TO, GUYS. smh smh smh. it's going to be completely random, i swear it on my honour as a piarles shipper. 🙏)

step 3: PRIZES 😍🏆

for P1, what i'm offering is the following: an afternoon of unlimited access to the entirety of my WIP folder (including longfics, snippets, ideas and dreams and everything in various states of completion.) you then get to choose any WIP/snippet/idea you like the most, and i will write that in full and dedicate it to you. <3

for P2: also an afternoon of access to my WIPs folder, but excluding the longfic ideas - because i love you guys, i do, but i'm only human. i can't write all my longfic ideas at once, much as i wish i could 😅 bar longfics, though, everything else is on the table - you get to go through it all and pick whatever you like the most, and it'll be yours.

and for P3: pretty much the same as P2 - your choice of whichever of WIP idea (bar longfics) that you like the most, fully written and dedicated to you :D

why am i doing it like this and not offering a "prompt me whatever you'd like" type thing? well, if you really want, i can do that. the thing is just - i have way, WAY too many WIP ideas, and i'll probably never get to writing even a quarter of them if i don't give myself some form of accountability. and i feel pretty safe in saying i have enough WIP ideas that there's probably something in there for everyone. so it's a two birds one stone type of thing - a gift fic for you, and assurance that i will actually write at least some of my WIP ideas for me. (also idk about you, but i always adore hearing about other writers' ideas and seeing the ways their brains work 👀)

if you guys would prefer a prompt thing, though, then we can absolutely do it like that too! after all, at the end of the day, this is for you. i want you to like it, and think it's a cool idea, and celebrate this one with me <333

because this is, from the bottom of my heart, a thank you. thank you to each and every one of you who hit that "subscribe" button on AO3, and helped me reach a fandom milestone i didn't think i would achieve for a long while yet. thank you for the endless support and enthusiasm and love. thank you, thank you, thank you. and i love you all ❤️❤️❤️

[knockyasocksoff2022]

👻 The Haunted House - HS/Uni AU 🎃

Based on a cute prompt I saw somewhere. Sakunosuke (22) and Osamu (17) are brothers here. Chuuya is Fukumori's adopted son. Gifts are still present in this au. Saku and Osamu's parents were government spies with abilities of their own and they were killed overseas. Ango is (20).

This took way too long for me to write and I went off my original idea by miles but hey here we are, and this is kind of rushed because I just had this idea and wnated to write somthing. Also I know it's technically to early to be Halloween posting, but do you think I care? NO!

Yay for my first ever Odango fic and also my first halloween fic.

Ships: Odango & Soukoku & Fukumori & Shin Soukoku & Kosano, Ranpoe

Under the cut due to length (1,666 words)

Sakunosuke's Perspective

It was no accident that when my parents chose to move us here it was so close to the good universities. (Looking back on it now it's almost as if they knew that they would . . .)

But when they died of mysterious circumstances (they worked for the government and nobody would tell us exactly what happened), I decided I would stay home to care for Osamu, who was six at the time. 

But then when their will was read it was explicitly stated that both of us had to stay in school through uni or else we wouldn't get any inheritance. It didn't make any sense, if I had to leave for uni in seven years, who was going to care for Osamu?

Luckily when I got into uni it was close enough that I can drive home most weekends with no trouble. And our neighbours, an older couple, Yukichi and Rintarou Mori-san, watch over Osamu while I'm gone for the week. They have a daughter named Elise, a kid named Kyusaku, and a son named Chuuya who's in Osamu's grade. Plus Chuuya is Osamu's boyfriend.

I have a boyfriend as well, Sakaguchi Ango. He follows me into the house. 

We're a little early because we only have one afternoon class on Fridays so Osamu and Chuuya haven't been let out of school yet.

We get to work, filling my school bag with snacks and water and the ouija board, all in preparation for tonight's adventures.

You see, there's this old house that used to belong to some old mafia boss who passed away from illness a few years ago. The property has fallen into decay ever since, and since it's Halloween Osamu begged us to come with him and have a big camp out inside. Because that's like the smartest thing ever.

It's fine, it's not like we have anything else to do. Akiko and Koyou are having a girls only sleepover and Ranpo and Edgar are do a true crime/ghost adventures marrathon (no thank you). If I had to guess Nathaniel is handing out flyers about resisting the devil to innocent kids who had the unfortuante idea to try and trick or treat at his house, and Howard is asleep.

Besides, it's not dangerous, and Ango and I will be able to say we made out in a haunted house.

We hear the keys rattle, and childishly Ango and I duck behind the sofa. 

When we hear footsteps entering the kitchen we jump out. "Trick or Treat!!!"

"AHHH! What the ever loving Jesus?"

"Huh?" I'm just as confused as the kid who just jumped a metre in the air. They're pale with perfectly divided lavender and white hair down to his hips, and they're hiding behind a tall boy who's even more of a bean pole than Osamu.

"Calm yourself, Sigma." He has an unmistakable Russian accent. He turns to Osamu, "This is your brother?"

"Fuck you, Saku." Osamu flips me off with a smile in lieu of an answer. I ruffle his hair and he hugs me. I tug at the bandages over his eye playfully.

"What happened there?"

He doesn't answer. 

"He ran into a pole." Chuuya explains. 

Ango raises an eyebrow behind his owl like glasses. "Okay, I doubt that, but anyways . . ."

"Cool, Osamu never mentioned having siblings!" Another boy steps forward with his hand outstretched, his handshake is firm and he shakes harder and faster than is necessary. His white plait shakes with the motion and his small top hat threatens to slip off his head but doesn't.

"I'm Nikolai! Can you guess where I just moved from?" The boy for some reason reminds me of a circus troupe member. He pronounces his name with a heavy accent but the rest of the words are almost accent free.

"Umm . . ."

Nikolai looks at the other Russian boy, as if telling him something silently.

"Five more seconds." The boy says in a bored monotone. It takes me a second and I realise he must be translating. Nikolai must have practised the first line to say it in Japanese, how cute.

Hmm, if he's asked me to guess, maybe he isn't russian. Ah, why am I taking this so seriously? Whatever!

" . . . Russia." I guess.

"Nope. Wrong. You lose." the boy translates again in monotone. I suppress a laugh, not wanting to seem rude.

"He moved here from Ukraine on Monday. But he speaks Russian so Fyo's helping him learn Japanese." Osamu explains

"You speak very well already Nikolai-kun." 

Nikolai beams, "Thank you for the compliment, but Fedya is the one to thank for all his work, he's been teaching me so well. Fedya's such a good teacher." 

"Yeah, count on Mackerel here, to invite the weird Russian kids to our camp out." Chuuya scoffs and pulls Osamu closer. My brother doesn't say anything for a moment. Then he gestures to the tallest of the russians.

"This is Fyodor, the one I've told you about. He moved here from Russia last year."

"Oh, yeah, you've mentioned him."

"How have you been liking Japan?" Ango asks

"It's a bit hot but on the whole a quaint place." he says it like he's reading from a travel blog written by the people who write instruction manuals.

This time neither I nor Ango can stifle our laughter. It is objectively true, Japan is alot smaller than Russia.

Chuuya points to the kid with the two toned hair, "This is Sigma, nobody really knows where they came from, they kind of just appeared when we were grade 7. This is the first time we've brought them over. They're five by the way, so no swearing tonight."

"Shut up!" Sigma shoves Osamu who's still firmly anchored to Chuuya, and doesn't move.

Chuuya's shoulders shake with laughter and he pats Osamu's shoulders to congratulate him on the tease.

"Alright, we've got snacks, water and that stupid book Kunikida bought for Osamu's birthday last year, about catching ghosts."

"Koonikida? The idealist? Hmm, and I thought he was allergic to fun. It's good, maybe Osamu is rubbing off on him." Nikolai giggles maniacally.

"So is everyone coming then?" Fyodor sounds less than pleased.

"Nope, Kunikida says he has to study, he joined some group with some of the American transfer students, Meg and Louisa, at least that means we're seeing less of him." Chuuya emphasises the word study to show exactly what he thinks of the slightly older boy, "It's fine with me. Think about it surrounded by girls and yet, at this point he should just find himself a boyfriend. It's those "ideals" of his, I'm telling you. He shared a few with us once . . ." he shivers theatrically, "My ears are scared now. John said this whole thing was lame, but he's really just being a coward. Atsushi and Ryu finally got the courage to ask each other out, they're having a sleepover. And Kenji invited Kyouka to go trick or treating in his village. They left this morning."

Everyone nods.

"So, you got supplies?" he asks me

"Yup!"

We all look out the window to the street where the sun's light is beginning to get softer and night is bleeding its way across the sky, smudging the blue with black until the whole canvas is covered.

"Well, it's starting to get dark. We should leave now." Ango hands me the bag and we set off.

The walk is far but it passes quickly with the chatter of the group. Chuuya and my brother stayed in the back. I notice Osamu hasn't said much of anything but that isn't too unusual for him.

When we get to the decrepit old building it looks like the inspiration for all the haunted houses I've ever seen. The yard is full of broken or rusted lawn ornaments and ivy covers the crumbling wood siding of the house.

When we walk to the front door I look back and do a quick head count. Everyone's here. And Osamu is wearing Chuuya's jacket. He shivers even though the night is warm.

"Awww, are you cold Osamu?" I tease my brother who clings to his boyfriend.

Chuuya shoves me back gently and rolls his eyes, "Oi, lay off, he's sick." 

Oh. That must be why he's been so quiet. And now that I think about it he does look paler than normal.

"Aww, did you catch the sniffles?"

"Shut up, I'll cough on you Saku, don't think I won't."

We all laugh at the quiet violence in his voice. I'll admit he even scares me sometimes but he's clearly in no condition to do anything. 

"Did any of you pack medicine, or am I expected to do everything round here?" Ango asks the question I'd just been thinking.

"We're not dumb, yeah I have some stuff in my bag. My dad is a doctor, remember?"

"Yeah, Saku. I'll be fine, let's gooooo already." he draws out the go with exaggerated boredom.

"Yay, LET'S GOOO! Yippie!" Nikolai jumps up and down until Fyodor forces him to stay put with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Osamu shoves me and I shove back, then we step inside. 

"Bet you can't make it all night, eh, Sigma?" I hear Chuuya say to the kid who honestly looks a little terrified.

"O-of c-ourse I can." Then under his breath, "Why do I go along with these idiots?"

This is going to be the most interesting Halloween we've had so far, that's for sure.

(A/N: Yes, I did remember now that Ango is his surname and I may change it but couldn't think of a cute nickname Oda would have for him and I didn't feel like typing Sakaguchi out a bunch of times.)

[sidhewrites]

Chapter 11! We got hot plot! I am so keenly aware that this is a first draft and going to be edited so heavily once it's all on the page! One of the major notes I Have for myself consistently is to make Kaz more active in causing the plot to happen overall. Right now she seems to be a bit more of a pinball protag, so I'm going to have to do a lot of fixing in later drafts.

I also realize I'm seriously lacking tertiary/background characters? Kaz and Josie need friends lol. Now taking suggestions for other weird gay college kids that live in generic college town usa

Project Info

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

For the record, this is every bit as always as we both thought it would be. Josie and I sit at a very deliberate distance from each other on one of the brightly colored benches in the university’s student lounge. It’s a thoroughly modern building with glass walls and a wealth of amenities, but there aren’t many students to be found on a Friday afternoon, likely preferring to spend the start of their weekend having fun, or at least away from school. 

As a peace offering, I get us both cans of coffee from a vending machine, and hold one out for her as I flop down onto the bench across from her. 

“Do you drink anything other than coffee?” She asks, but takes the can anyway. Her fingers brush against mine, and we both freeze for a moment. 

I employ my usual method of smoothing out an awkward moment by saying something very smart and witty: “Sure. Sometimes I drink pure espresso like it’s a vodka shot.” 

For the record, I’ve only ever did that three times in my life, and every single time I told myself I’d never do it again. 

I push myself as far away from her on the small bench as possible while she sets up her laptop on the table in front of us, carefully avoiding looking at me. 

Half of me wants to call the whole thing off. I say I have to be somewhere else that I forgot about until just now, or just say fuck it and outright apologize for agreeing to meet in the first place. But the other, louder half of me is determined to be civil and polite and prove that we can get through a single half hour video like adults. 

I am keenly aware of the space my body takes up as she pulls up the Haunted Archivist’s website. My fingers grip the cold aluminum of the coffee can, my feet sweat in the socks I’ve worn all day and the work boots I wear everywhere. The sports jersey I’m wearing rubs against my skin, and I try to focus on that instead of the way Josie’s choker bobs with her throat when she swallows or the way her auburn hair falls over her shoulder. I don’t look at her stomach hanging over her waistband or think about how much I want to grab her, and how easily I could pull her towards me and lose myself in her. 

Before I know it, I’ve downed the whole can of coffee. 

“This was a mist—“ I say, right as Josie says, “Got it! Ready?”

She flushes for a second then, and leans back. “Oh, sorry. What was that?”

“This was a mistake,” I say again before I can help myself. 

A flash of fear and pain darkens her expression, so I act without thinking, and hold up the coffee. “This. I’m gonna regret it in about an hour.”

Relief floods Josie’s body and I see her almost sag with relief as she nods. “That’s for certain. Ready?”

She starts the video, and the Haunted Archivists begin with their usual affair. Shots of past videos flash across the screen as they introduce themselves and what they do, followed up with talking heads of Lourdes and Mick introducing this month’s subject. 

I glance over at Josie as they run through a list of noted ghosts in town, and she mumbles under her breath when she forgets a few that only a small group of locals know. 

Elitist, I think fondly. 

They start with the Barkeep, then the Kramer twins and the Librarian, running down the list until it’s time for their last and most exciting overnight investigation in the graveyard. 

Mr. Ngo appears on the screen, doing an interview in his office as he introduces the graveyard and its history.

“Yeah, boss!” I say, pointing at the screen. “If he’s not watching this right now, I’m going in tomorrow to show him.” It’s my day off, but I don’t even care. He looks great, even if he did ultimately forego the cowboy hat. 

They show my interview next, and I immediately want to crawl into the nearest hole as it plays. 

“Aw, you look great,” she says, which does nothing to help. 

It’s a mercy when they finally move on to the actual investigation of the graveyard, and we watch as they set up various tools and equipment to detect ghosts all over the graveyard. The entire event looks much more interesting on camera than it did in real life, and I wonder if [something about the magic of movie editing]. From my point of view, they had wandered about, spent a lot of time not talking, and wrote down a lot of notes. But in the video itself, [something else]. Even the ouija board session looks cool and dramatic in the video, and I’m half lost in the story, ridiculous pad it is.

And then Josie pipes up: "Wait. Rewind a bit?" Her face is pale as she presses the arrow keys back to the moment right before Renfield knocks over the ouija board, and presses play.

"Is anyone there?" Mick asks again. "Anyone want to talk to us?"

The planchette moves to YES.

"Who are you? Is this Lucille Blue?"

The planchette circles the board senselessly and moves back to YES.

They ask Lucille a few more questions before the voice over narrates, "It was at this time we heard yelling off in the distance. Fortunately, nobody was hurt. Unfortunately..." Renfield bursts through the scene, knocking over the board, with me hot on his heels.

Josie taps the space bar again. The video pauses, and she looks up at me with wide eyes.

"What?"

"Didn't you see the video?"

"Yeah. Millions of people just saw me embarrass myself on camera. What's your point?"

"They didn't say goodbye."

"What?"

"The Archivists. They didn't say goodbye before ending the session."

I snort, taken aback. "Well, they didn't exactly have a choice."

"That's bad. If they don't say goodbye, then the ghost is released into the world. It's not tied to the ouija board anymore."

I press my lips together, fighting hard not to laugh. She knows I don't believe in this stuff, but she still seems to expect me to react to this like it's a life-changing calamity. "Josie...

"No, Kaz, I'm serious. They opened a door into the afterlife by inviting anyone to the session, and then didn't close it properly."

"You realize how you sound right now, right? There's no door -- or a metaphysical door," I rush to add before Josie can interrupt. "They were moving the planchette on their own. You know that, don't you? It wouldn't be good content if they don't have something to show for it."

She shoots me a glare.

I feel my jaw tighten, and my brows raise in disbelief.

[They argue.]

"Enough. I don't want to hear it," she says, and stands. "I've got to do some research."

"I'm not letting you into the graveyard after closing," I call, and huff as Josie all but slams the door behind her. I don't mean to antagonize her like this, but we've had this argument a hundred times over. Josie believes in the supernatural as much as she believes in the weather app on her phone. I, meanwhile, have a bit more common sense, and know that a 30% chance of rain means nothing in the middle of summer when we don't see a single cloud for weeks on end. [Find a way to make this less clunky]

[Transition. Something happens. Josie corners Kaz at work. Josie is bringing up the idea of reaching out tot he HA, bringing them back, then...]

I don't even let her finish. "Absolutely not."

"But--"

"I know you're a fan, but this is so wildly inappropriate. I could lose my job over this, and Mr. Ngo would lose any chance of follow ups. Do you know how much they paid for film permits here?"

"Seriously? You're worried about money?"

"A lot, Jo."

"Come on--"

"That money is helping us pay for [something important.] We can't risk losing out on future [whatever]."

Josie shot me a look. "You're just saying no because I'm the one asking you."

"Josie." I mean, she's a little right. I don't want to admit it, especially because I would never agree to this kind of thing anyway unless it was directly from Mr. Ngo, but there's a special sort of vindication in being allowed to refuse Josie this thing that's so incredibly important to her, and is so incredibly out of the realm of realistic expectations.

[Arguing.]

I storm off, leaving Josie in the student union alone, and make a beeline for home. I don’t even think about the route I take until I’m halfway through the graveyard, fists clenched and half blind as the sun sinks further below the horizon.

I can’t help but notice a flower pot besides a grave. The flowers are wilted. I’ll have to replace them on my next shift.

Tag List

@adaughterofathena

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@carnelianflames

@feather-dancer

@halfbloodlycan

@nadunacreates

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@vigilantdesert

[toomuchracket]

sweetheart! George def offers to sneak girly into a bar/smoke her out or smth for helping him get a good grade on his project!! I hc that she’s not a total goody two shoes but just v focused on school & devotes a lot of free time to that rather than partying yk. and then maybe if he does well on a final then he takes her to a sweet romantic dinner & pulls out all the stops in order to thank her properly

agree with you about girly!! so convinced that george - being the thoughtful respectful boy that he is - would wait until exam season is fully over before asking you out BUT just before exams begin, george has like a little not-really-a-party party at his house one friday night. you, him, the boys, some of your friends... quite a small crowd, but fun! and a few days pre-gaff, george is like "look i was gonna get some weed for myself for the party and i'll get some for you if you want?? no pressure, and if not i'll get you something else, but i want to thank you for all your help and i figured it might be a nice way to relax before exams", and you're like omg he's so cute and you agree. it starts with the two of you chilling in george's garden on this nice early summer evening. and then - because i'm me and i'm obsessed with it - i reckon george would probably shotgun you with the joint a few times before he passes it to you to smoke. and pretty soon you're nicely high alongside everyone else at the party, lying on the grass with george just looking up at the sky contentedly. but then you get restless (me) and have a wander around the house - maybe you end up in george's room just staring at the drum kit in fascination, and he finds you and giggles at how intently you're scrutinising the snare before promising he'll teach you how to play them at some point. and then you get the munchies so he takes you to the kitchen where someone (probs matty) is making toast - george steals you some, and just sits patiently with you as you come down. sweet boy!

in terms of the romantic dinner... i think that's something george would maybe do a little bit further into the relationship rather than at this point - to me, he's so sweetly tentative with you initially, and i think your first date thingy would literally be like him taking you for a drive and a little picnic (thanks to the council @throughthepostmodernlens for that suggestion!). you've both been cooped up indoors studying, and when he suggests it you literally jump at the chance to spend time with him in the sunshine. he picks you up, looking all cute, and then takes you to the shop to grab some food you like; it's your first time being all domestic together, and george is so smitten with you, especially when you make disgusted faces and side-eye the people next to you in the aisles for buying disgusting things (scotch eggs, definitely) but then smile at him immediately after. he absolutely pays for everything when you get to the checkout, which you're annoyed at because he wouldn't take petrol money off you either, but you get around it by saying "fine, my turn to buy things next time the two of us go out, yeah?" - george agrees because oh my god you want to go on a date-like thing with him again?? he would literally do anything for that. bless him. anyway, you guys probably end up chilling in a nice park somewhere - george was so conscious that he wanted to take you somewhere nice and sort-of quiet but also not secluded enough that you would think he was trying to put the moves on you in his car - with your little picnic, eating and chatting and giggling and watching the ducks on the pond. and you're down horrendous for him, seeing him all relaxed and sweet and sunlit and HOT; he's wearing a t-shirt and, even at 17, his biceps are a thing of beauty. george thinks you're beautiful, in your little t-shirt dress and sandals, and he just can't stop looking at you. that comes in handy, though, as the afternoon turns to evening and the air gets cooler - he notices you're getting goosebumps before you do, and hands you the hoodie from his bag before you can even admit to being chilly. and you both go a little bit insane when you wear it, because oh my god you are wearing george's clothes - it smells like him, but it takes on a hint of your perfume too. and you're still wearing it when george drops you back home that night and walks you to your door - he's too distracted by the little peck on the cheek (precariously close to his lips) that you give him before saying goodnight and heading inside to mention it. although he would have told you to keep it anyway - it's yours now, and so is he <3

[zafiro-anyejo]

Honestly I do think there has to be a time in your child's life where they need to learn things the hard way. Correct me if I'm wrong.

Last night I had to deal with three hours of helping my partner and his mom call my partner's sister, because she was in pain from a toothache and needed dental care.

And this is fine except... she had dental pain on Friday afternoon. But did not want to leave work to go to the dentist. Which I kind of understand? But I told her on the phone, "your employers are nice, they will understand if you need to leave early to go to the dentist. I think you should". Like she could barely talk because of the pain.

Sister said "but I don't have any money/I'm stressed about money. And I have dinner at a fancy restaurant tomorrow. My boyfriend and I were going to drive there (4 hrs away) and then drive back home that night. I think I'll be fine."

(My brother in Christ, woman, you are already in pain on Friday. Why do you think you will be ok to eat at a 5-star restaurant on Saturday night when dentists are more likely to be closed?).

So me and my partner tried to talk her out of it, but she said "No I will be fine. I'll just go to the restaurant."

Lo and behold she calls us yesterday evening literally crying in the parking lot because she is in so much pain. And she wants our help trying to fix her tooth problem. Thankfully she is in the same city as us at the moment.

I tell her she should go to a 24-hour dentist in the city (my partner is currently sending her the info as me and my partner's mom--who is staying the night--also recommend this).

Sister says "No I want to go to the dentist in my hometown instead... I don't have any money. Can you pay for it?"

Her mom starts calling different dentists but--surprise--none of them in our hometown are open on Sunday. So either go to 24-hour dentist or wait until Monday.

I feel bad she is in pain. But I also have no idea how she does not have an 'emergency medical expenses' cushion saved.

Sister lives at home, pays no rent or bills except gas and her car loan. No student debt thankfully. She makes over $3,000/month. She is in her mid twenties. A full grown adult legally not allowed to be on parents' health care plan. She went on a vacation for her birthday last week to Vegas and paid for half of it; at the time she is calling us she is at a 5-star restaurant which does not even have a menu, that's how fancy it is. White table cloth, chef's choice of dinner, probably served on a silver platter.

But she asks her mom--who has almost no savings and makes far less than her--to pay her entire medical bill. And she is complaining about not wanting to go to any doctors in this city, but wanting to feel better tomorrow.

We have given her all opportunities--a 24-hour dental clinic in the city, that she and her boyfriend can stay the night at my place, and I am even thinking about meeting her somewhere if she needs--but she said no, she wants to go back to her hometown.

After hanging up my partner's mom is stressed about money. I say maybe she can pay for half of sister's expenses and then let her pay the other half, so my partner's sister can be responsible for some of it without sister feeling like the mom is leaving her high and dry. Partner's mom seems to agree with this but idk if she's just blowing smoke or actually thinking about it.

Anyway, my partner's sister decided to go to her hometown to get dental work done. Which is entirely her choice. I get that.

But at some point? Your child needs to learn to grow up and be an adult. I guess you can lead a dehydrated cat to clean water and still, instead, it will ask for a saucer of milk.

[nowoyas]

Edible Arrangements 34

First - Prev - Next - M.list - Ao3

A/N: sorry this is running late! I had like three assignments due today and I've been in a depressive rut for like three months so I totally thought I just needed to edit a chapter and post it today. turns out that was the last chapter in my bank and it was only halfway written so AFTER taking an exam I haven't done any coursework for (and kicking ass fuck yeah) and writing a 1k word essay I also hadn't done anything for and also playing stardew valley bc of who I am as a person I finally got the time today to bust out the rest of the chapter! this is more lightly edited than usual due to time reasons. anyways rant over! here's the chapter!

Chapter Summary: Fuck yeah axe throwing and heists!

Warnings: uhhh hospital and knife mentions

Word count: ~2500

Holy fucking shit Tenya is insane. Holy fucking shit you love this.

Axe throwing. He took you axe throwing.

And holy shit, you’re living your best life.

The place does competitions between teams of two, and luckily, there was another pair hoping to fuck shit up on this fine Friday afternoon. They’re both younger, you think—at least, one is. The first, with bobbed brown hair, is definitely around your age—she smiles and waves as you approach. The other, you’re not able to be sure about, namely because she’s just some floating clothes. She’s invisible, apparently.

You wonder if you’d be able to see her features if she lied to you.

“Glad to see we’ve got another pair!” the brunette says as you and Tenya take point beside them. "This is fun, but I think it's a little more fun as a competition!" She's got a playful glint in her eyes. "I'm Ochako! And this is Tooru."

You nod. Tenya gives your names.

"Have you been here before?"

You have not. Tenya shakes his head for the both of you.

“Do you think they’ll be mad if I scream?” you ask as you inspect one of the throwing axes. “I’m going through some shit.”

Ochako laughs. “Go for it. Just try to make it sound more angry than in pain so they don’t freak out, and you should be good!”

Ochako and Tooru are great, as is Tenya. The girls give both of you pointers on good technique as the resident axe-throwing regulars, and you proceed to scream out your rage as you successfully hit a killshot on the target. It’s pure, violent delight, and even Tenya gets into it. By the time it’s over, Ochako and Tooru have thoroughly thrashed you (you silently write it off as the result of both you and Tenya having pretty heavily burnt arms) and you’ve walked out with both girls’ numbers and a group chat entitled “axing questions”.

And speaking of group chats, you haven’t looked at your phone except to get the chat set up since entering the axe-throwing venue. You almost feel light.

Tenya, for his part, is almost hands-off for once. Typically, he can't help but reach in to situations. You never fault him—it's who he's always been. But you can't say you don't welcome the way he's treating you now.

When at last you part ways with Ochako and Tooru, you return to shopping, and though the weird tightness in your chest remains at the thought of Tsuyu, you stick it out to go gift shopping for her. Her birthday's coming whether or not she pressed into something she shouldn't have, and honestly, by now you can't even remember what you were so upset about. You're just stressed about Izuku, is all.

Tenya takes you home when you've both secured your birthday presents for Tsuyu, and at the door, you pause. You wish you'd spent more time out of the house today. Confronting Izuku with everything going on is not something you're up for, and it's all you can do to hope he's still locked away in his office when you walk in. Tenya, sensing your hesitation, places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"You're okay?" he asks.

You nod. "Yeah. I'll be okay."

"If you need to talk..."

He's watching you with this weird look on his face. Familiar. But weird. It's not an attempt to hide a lie, and anyway, you don't know why he would need to lie about offering help.

"Thanks. I'll keep you in mind."

"Um, [name]?"

He's still standing there as you pause with your hand on the doorknob. You wait, patiently, as he opens his mouth to speak, then closes it again.

"I... thank you for today. Truly."

"Are you alright, Tenya?"

He smiles. He doesn't glow. "Better than I have been in a long time. Don't let him worry you too much, alright?"

You smile thinly and nod. "Thank you for today. I think I needed this more than I realized. You've been distant since new year's, so I'm glad that whatever it is has cleared up. I don't think I could take you being mad at me, too."

He chuckles softly. "I could never."

He bids you goodnight, and you linger on the porch until long after he's gone, palm massaging a particularly itchy bite mark. The night air will be your comfort, if that is all you get to have.

~

This plan might possibly be ill-conceived.

It's funny; Neito never thought he'd question himself like this. Ever since his untimely death at the hands of his stepsister, he's been doing that plenty.

So now, every time he thinks back to tonight's plans, he finds himself preening. Smoothing out a shirt, then deliberately re-wrinkling it just to do something with his hands as he goes over it again and again.

"You're going to drive yourself insane like that."

He snorts softly. "And you're going to drive yourself insane worrying so much about me."

Itsuka leans against the door frame, hands clenched into fists. Normal-sized, thank god. "It's not like you don't give me reason to worry. I feel like a mother, and I'm not even out of college yet."

"Now, now, there's plenty of mothers in college. You know one of them, she brings her infant to our—"

She rolls her eyes. "I get it. You're obnoxious."

"Isn't that what siblinghood is all about?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

He can work with standoffish. The words are coming easier to him. Even just the one session with Dr. Fuyumi seems to be doing its work well, given that he and Itsuka are actually talking.

"You do realize how stupid this plan of yours is, right?"

"Isn't it?" He smooths out the cotton undershirt over the table once again. "But I think it's all we have."

"Did you try asking her for the records?"

"What good would that do? If she said no, not only would we be at square one, but she'd be more vigilant. She'd know to keep an eye out for missing records, and she'd know who'd taken them when she noticed them gone. Like this, she has no reason to suspect anything."

She sighs. "I get it, but... this is illegal, you know?"

"A lot of things are illegal. But you know, many ethical theorists agree that the most moral action ignores the concept of justice in favor of—"

"Oh my god, do not talk to me about philosophy. Just... this is me, trying to talk you out of it. And if you and your friends get caught stealing the therapy records of one of your classmates, I'm going to tell the police that I tried to talk you out of it. So just, do me a favor and pretend like I've talked you out of it. If you go out and do it anyway, I don't want to hear about it. So if the cops ask, I'm not involved, you're my stepbrother and you're crazy and I honestly thought I talked you out of this stupidity. Got it?"

"Aw," he teases, "I'm glad to have your blessing."

The smack to the back of his head is well worth it.

~

The receptionist isn't cold, but she's not talkative, either. Hitoshi keeps his phone on his lap, waiting for the signal from Mina. Namely, for her to walk in through the door.

Tsuyu to Heist Crew at 6:32PM

Tsuyu: We're here. Hitoshi, heads up.

Hitoshi: cool. no cameras in here. I love patient privacy rights.

Tsuyu: I'm sure you do.

He glances up from his phone at the receptionist, who's hard at work with some stack of papers at her desk. One deep breath. Another.

This is for you.

"Hey, where's the bathroom?" he asks.

"Oh, it's down the—" She chokes on the words, face going blank.

Bingo.

Hitoshi: come in.

"Stay in your seat and close your eyes." A precaution.

The girls file in quickly, gloves already in place. Hitoshi snaps his own onto his hands.

"Give me your keys to the building."

The keys wait in her palm. He takes them carefully, and the trio strides into the back of the office.

It couldn't have been better-timed. Neito's appointment was the last of the day, which meant no distractions. No risks.

"Tsuyu, you check the receptionist's computer. Mina, with me. We're going to search the file room," he whispers. Several nods, and they're sliding down the hall.

Dr. Fuyumi Todoroki likes to keep files on paper. It was a nice quirk for Neito to notice during their first session: she wrote every single thing down. According to Neito, corroborated by both Mina and Tsuyu, you started attending therapy right around two years ago. Mina takes the filing cabinet labeled "2047", and Hitoshi beelines to "2048", to cover both potential years.

And it's easy. It's almost too easy. He finds a file with your name on it, calls off Mina and Tsuyu, and slaps the entire thing into the copier. With the copies in place, stapled, your file is returned, and then everything is locked back up. They slide out of the back, Tsuyu joins them, and then Hitoshi is handing the keys back to the receptionist. "Put these back in your desk drawer and close the door."

When she obeys, Mina and Tsuyu walk out with the copied file in hand. Only then does Hitoshi give his last command. "Forget you ever saw me or these two."

There's the subtle twitch of the expression, and then he walks out the door. When he's sure every sign of them is gone, he releases his hold and tells himself that this hasn't proven anything.

Hitoshi to Neito at 6:36PM

Hitoshi: hey, I'm going to wait at the cafe down the street. let me know when you're out of your appointment.

He pockets his phone. No sense waiting for a return text that won’t come.

The three of them hang out in said café as long as they can. Hitoshi nurses his coffee, watching with an approximation of amusement as Tsuyu does her damnedest to keep Mina from blurting about everything they just did. When a lull comes in the conversation, Tsuyu catches his eye.

“You’re a really quiet person.”

“I’m just tired,” he replies.

“Constantly?”

“Yes. Constantly.”

There’s a moment of pause, where she seems already to know whatever it is is running through Hitoshi’s mind. Honestly, he’s not even sure, until he’s saying it.

“It feels weird actually reading the notes we got,” he admits with a shrug.

She nods. “I feel like we have to. This won’t work if the notes don’t back up everything we say, right?”

“Not to be your resident killjoy, but we don’t know if it’ll work at all.”

“So we’re all clear?”

Hitoshi turns to see Neito, standing behind their table looking absolutely elated for someone who wasn’t even directly involved in pulling off their little heist. “Yeah. We got them. Get your vanilla latte or whatever and we’ll take a look to see if it’s any good.”

Neito pauses. “How did you know my coffee order?”

“Wow, that’s seriously it? You are easy to read.”

When Neito returns with his coffee, Hitoshi lays out the notes on the table. “We need to get our story straight with the notes. If even one detail is off, they’ll latch onto it and this whole thing falls apart.”

He wishes he’d made multiple copies of the notes. Luckily, Tsuyu and Mina needed a refresher more than anything, having been there, so the notes were mainly shared between Hitoshi and Neito as they laid out the details.

Regardless, they keep their heads down, their nose to the work, and they iron out every last detail until they’ve got a truth powerful enough to smash your thrall.

This better work.

~

You don’t know how long you sit on the porch. The night air is a comfort, and Izuku’s front door seems just so heavy tonight. So you sit. You breathe. You think of the fight with Izuku.

You don’t think you’re unjustified in wanting him to live. You don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask someone not to do something which might very well kill them, let alone to ask that of someone you care deeply for.

But… shit, you get it. He’s going after someone who destroyed everything he cared about. You have to understand that, and you do!

But…

You continue to turn the “buts” over in your head, passing them back and forth until you’re dizzy with the effort to just stop being mad at Izuku.

“I really hate this,” you whine into the cold.

“Aw, that’s too bad!”

A shrill giggle.

The cold isn’t just in the air now. It’s in your blood, in your lungs, in the glint of metal in the hand of—

A man. He’s tall, ratty-looking, with features you can’t make out in the dark. It’s just as well—they’re dripping away into a far more familiar sight.

You’re not sure if the scream leaves your mouth or stays viciously stuck in your throat.

~

“So then we’re seriously doing this!” Mina chirps as they stride out of the café at last. “[name]’s gonna get all her memories back!”

“Seems like it.”

“When should we go talk to her? I know she’s been kind of down lately, but—“

Mina’s phone rings. She takes it out, glances at the caller, and, brows furrowed, answers it.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Surprise on her face morphs into trepidation. Trepidation morphs into horror. If a girl with pink skin could go pale…

“W-where? I’m with most of the others right now. Everyone but Tenya, actually…”

A pause. A nod. Hitoshi hasn’t even tried not to pay attention since she answered the phone.

“But why did… why did you call me?”

“…yeah. Yeah, that makes sense. Okay. Um… are they… how are they…”

“No, yeah, I’m okay! Yeah! I… I have to be, right? This isn’t the time to be… You know what, all of you. Walk with me. Tsuyu’s car. Now.” She gives an urgent look to Hitoshi and the others, and they each go along with it. Mina doesn’t drop the phone from her ear until she’s sat in the passenger’s seat and everyone’s buckled in, and even then, only to give Tsuyu the address to a hospital.

“When do you think she’ll tell us what’s going on?” Hitoshi whispers to Neito, who shrugs.

“I’m sure we’ll find out…?”

“Izuku, listen. They need you to breathe right now. We’re on our way. Have you called Tenya?” A pause. “Okay, I’ll call him. Tsuyu, is his place on the way?”

Tsuyu nods. “He’s not far from the hospital.”

“Stop to pick up Tenya.”

Tsuyu nods, knuckles white on the wheel. Mina goes back to her careful attempts to talk Izuku through whatever’s happened. The others in the car just have to wait to understand, apparently.

As though that’s fair to anyone.

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[thedreadvampy]

Ok so like my partner and their partner are moving today, right?

and my partner had top surgery like 2 months ago and their partner has injured their shoulder so I'm like ok I love to move boxes I am super happy to come help if that's useful? and they're like yes yes oh my god please cause we don't know if we've got the manpower to move anything.

so I go on Friday afternoon I am knocking off work early to help them move. I block out my calendar. I work longer days Monday-Wednesday to balance it out. I also have to leave work earlier than usual Tuesday and Thursday so it's a bit like ok I can squeeze this in if I use up all my TOIL from the last few weeks.

I have also turned down two different requests to hang out this evening bc I was like ok no I have plans that evening cause I'm helping people move

They started moving at lunchtime because that's when the friend with a van was available. Ok. I knock off work at 3 instead of 5 and I message to say ok you've been at this a while, do you still need me? My partner messages back and says yes, we've just got here we've not even started unpacking yet and there's more stuff left at the flat, come on down.

It's a 25 minute walk and when I get there the things remaining in the van and the car are:

a kettlebell

a single box

a small bag

so I take those up. then I stand awkwardly around in the living room while their very loud friend talks very loudly and nonstop until everyone is overwhelmed. there's a sofa that needs to come out of the flat because it's full of dog hair and my partner's partner is super allergic to dogs, so me and the loud friend carry that downstairs. my partner keeps trying to direct it even though that makes it WAY FUCKING HARDER. we agree with the van friend that he'll hang onto it for now and load it into the van.

then I go back up to the flat and stand around for 20 minutes

eventually I'm like ok is there anything. I could be doing here?

and they look at each other and they're like no. nah. we're done for today. We'll sort through our stuff and set up and you guys come back in a couple of hours and we'll go for beers

and ok like this is not anyone's fault but I'm so upset.

Like I have been functionally superfluous here. I moved two things that other people were already about to pick up, and I moved a sofa that would have got moved anyway (although Jay would have tried to move it. but frankly it doesn't seem like they've tried very hard to Not Move Furniture before that so who gives a shit?). and for that I have basically used up my whole Friday afternoon/evening and lost 2 work hours for what?

"come back in a couple of hours and we'll go for beers" I didn't sign up for beers! I booked out this evening because I wanted to do physical labour and move heavy things!!! I wanted to be helpful!!!! If I wanted to have a beer and socialise I would have taken up the several other offers of socialising this evening!!!! But I don't want to now because I'm so upscuttled and upset that I can't even be around people, I am sitting on the back step in my garden right now because there is a risk of encountering 1-2 people in my flat!!!!!

and I asked before I left work if I was needed for this exact reason! because I didn't want to show up hang around and leave!!!!!

and "oh so your Friday evening's free now"? It's NOT FREE I'm AUTISTIC it's DENUDED. I'm not doing the thing I was meant to be doing but my brain still thinks I'm meant to be doing it so I don't have the capacity to do anything else!!!!! I'm just HERE.