#how the FUCK am i meant to recover from tonight

[eurydicees]

at every concert fall out boy sings fall out boy songs. as you can imagine, this is quite devastating to me

[linpunny]

NSFW Alphabet Letter C(um)

Before reading be warned this is very Dessycoded and self indulgent but still wrote as a reader fic. I will never recover from this I am currently terminally ill for this man. I want all his cum ok. I have a problem, DONT PERCEIVE ME

CW: Size kink, cream pies, predator/prey dynamics, mentions of multiple rounds, multiple positions, squirting, multiple orgasms, lots of cum talk and mentions of cum, womb fucking, pet names (baby, good girl, cumslut) slight tiny dergration, size kink.

Wc: 1.k

Pairing: Taiju Shiba and fem!reader

*Reader has a kitty kat but no pronouns

Banner/mdni and lines made my the lovely @/benkeiibear

Network: @enchantedforest-network

Taiju loved making you cum, he was so good at drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you, he was an expert in the language of your pussy. He knew just where to fuck you to make you cum on command, whether it was with his fingers, tongue or dick. As much as Taiju loved making you cum he loved filling you with his cum even more. He was a man that hated the thought of his seed going to waste, especially now that he had the perfect little cumslut laying underneath him every night begging to be filled to the brim with his thick load.

His cum was precious to both you and him and that meant it had to be poured deep into your womb, fucked deeper with each heavy stroke of his fat dick or shot down your throat. He made sure not one drop went to waste and tonight was no different.

Your pussy was already filled so impossibly full of his thick pearly cum that each stroke of his dick caused more and more to dribble out of your slick folds, mixing in with the white silvery sheen on his shaft from your own arousal.

Thrust. Squelch.

Thrust. Squelch.

Thrust. Squelch.

Taiju’s eyes remained glued to the place where the two of you were connected, watching his cum being pushed in and out of your tight little cunt, the corner of his lips curling into a wolf-like grin as he continued to slam his dick into you ruthlessly. He grabbed your leg, draping it over his hip, fingers digging bruises into the soft skin of your thigh while his other hand played with one of your perked nipples, rolling the sensitive bud in between his thumb and pointer finger as he thrusted over and over again into your sopping wet pussy without mercy.

The new position not only drew out the sweetest moans from your pretty parted lips but also allowed him more access to fuck his cum even deeper than before as and hit that soft spongy spot that had tears streaming down your face, toes curling as another hard orgasm pulsed through your body, coating his already soaked shaft and balls with the creamiest slick he’d ever felt or seen. Goddamn it, it was so hot seeing you cream all over his dick, he could never get tired of watching you literally come undone (on him) for him.

“Fuck, baby.’ he groaned loudly as your warm velvety walls practically sucked his dick, trying to milk him dry again. His pace slowed but only for a few minutes as he rolled his hips gently into yours, long dicking your overstimulated abused cervix with each languid thrust so you could catch a breath and ride out your orgasm. His energy during sex was monstrous. He was ravenous, an apex predator in bed but he knew his little prey would run out of stamina if he didn’t let you recover for a few minutes. He felt you pushing back on his forearms trying to squirm away and he” tsk’d” in disapproval shaking his head, “You know we aren’t finished yet, little one. Don’t you dare pull away from me again.” his dick wasn’t coming out of your pussy. Not like you really had a choice with how tightly your soft walls were clinging to his cock. He couldn’t pull out even if he wanted to.

He knew he wouldn’t last much longer at this rate. You felt too good wrapped snuggly around his tip and shaft, gummy walls massaging him as he slowly thrusted through your pussy.

Once your hazy half lidded eyes traveled up to his golden ones he waited for your cue, a small nod that meant he could continue. You sighed, nodding, giving him the consent he needed and he immediately resumed jackhammering his dick into you with fast deep strokes. His broad hands hold onto the sides of your thigh, guiding you into a new position as he folded your knees to your chest, your feet resting flat on his pecs as he spread his knees wide angling up to thrust into your fluttering pussy.

“You love being stuffed full of my cum like this, huh?” You were so fucking wet and desperate clinging to him like your life depended on it, clawing your nails into his shoulders, chanting his name like a prayer, worshipping him like a God.

Your slutty moans were a prayer that graced his ears and he knew only he could answer them for you. He was your fucking God. Only he could bring you to this blissed out state and he loved watching your tiny body take as much cum as he could give you.

“Y-yes!” You managed to babble out between broken sobs as he hammered away, thick bulbous tip leaking as his dick throbbed inside your overstuffed cum filled pussy. You could feel how hard he was with each slam of his hips into yours, his pace getting sloppy and his breathing was ragged as he pulled you down on his cock to meet his thrusts. You knew Taiju was going to cum soon, shooting even more of his fat load right into your swollen womb. Your arms circled around his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss, swallowing his throaty grunts as he split you open until the coil that had been building brutally snapped, squirting hot liquid down his abs, your inner thighs, dribbling down your ass and onto the sheets beneath you.

“So fucking filthy f’me.” He speak into your lips, almost ready to explode on the spot as soon as you squirted on him.

Without warning Taiju slammed fast one last time, rough and deep plunging his cum swollen tip right past the relaxed entrance to your womb. The muscles of his ass cheeks tightened ,his abs clenched tightly as his soaked and heavy breeding balls grew taut, shooting the last of his thick load into your womb, ropes of white painting every inch of your pussy as his again.

Taiju smirked into the kiss as the last of his cum dribbled out of his tip and down your slick covered thighs, as his lips devoured yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth. Moaning as you returned the favor. Pulling his mouth away from yours he propped himself on his elbows, semi hard dick still inside your warm cunt, plugging you up so no more of his cum would spill out.

He admired the beautiful mess he had made, a flicker of pride swirled in his golden eyes, voice low and sultry as he praised you for doing such a good job, “Look at you, taking it all like a good girl.”

© Linpunny 2023 All of the following works are fictional and belong to me. Please do not copy, edit, or steal any of my content. Do not advertise on any other social media.

[happyandticklish]

As You Wish

Notes: Publishing all the fics today! It's been a while since I've put my favorite little guys through a situation, so I have returned to torment Damien once more. In an AU where it's after everything went down but things turned out better for the two of them and they get to live out a happy life together ❤️

Summary: Mark and Damien hold a battle of wills where losing is the only way to get what you want.

“You’re not ticklish?”

“No.”

“Then how come you’re squirming?”

“I’m n—hmmehe n-not, look okay, can you just—”

“You completely are, there’s no point in lying.”

“Well, if I am, that’s not my fault, now is it?”

“So, you’re saying your movements are out of your control, then?”

“That’s is not what I’m saying, you’re just being difficult.”

“Mmm, difficult how?”

They had been at this for an hour now and Damien was seriously considering throwing in the towel if it went on any longer. Mark’s hands were skimming up and down his sides under his shirt, a touch that were supposably meant to be comforting but was anything but from Damien’s perspective. Soft lips pressed kiss after kiss after kiss into his neck, just barely brushing the skin in a manner that had him helplessly tensing up every time.

The kiss landed underneath his ear and he growled, squeezing his eyes shut. “Mark.”

“Damien. Something the matter?”

“You know damn well—”

“No, I don’t, because you have been very insistent that you are fine and that this is not bothering you whatsoever.” He was smug. Damien could hear it in his voice and he wanted to punch him. He wanted to turn around and kiss him. He wanted him to dig his fingers in just a little harder. “Which we both know is a lie, but as the game goes, you don’t get what you want till you admit it.”

It was a stupid game, largely because it played off of Damien’s least favorite activity—not getting what he wanted. Not for lack of trying, mind you. Every ounce of desire he had was going into Mark, making him want to dig his fingers in, making him crave Damien’s laughter. And, sometimes, it worked. Sometimes, the nails dragging up his sides would scribble over his ribs in an almost crazed frenzy and Damien would choke and fall back into his arms with a rush of relief. Then, in the next moment, Mark would recover, looking a bit flushed himself, and go back to his teasing game. He was barely holding on, but so was Damien, and so it all came down to who broke first.

Damien bit his lip as Mark teased skittering touches over his stomach, his skin jumping and twitching under his hands. Every part of him wanted to squirm away or at the very least grab Mark's hands, but he couldn’t risk that ending this and leaving him entirely unsatisfied for the night. “C’mon, Mark, I know you can feel it, so why don’t you just do it already.”

“Feel what, Damien?” He couldn’t see it with his eyes closed, but he could practically feel Mark’s raised eyebrow. “What desire are you projecting tonight? Enlighten me.”

Damien sucked in a shuddering breath. “Fuck you.”

Fail once, try again. Fail seventeen thousand times, try again anyway because it has to work eventually. He closed his eyes, feeling around for the tether in Mark’s mind. He focused on his psyche, grabbing onto his consciousness and molding it between his fingers. Damien let out a soft whine of effort, barely perceivable if you weren’t listening for it. He felt Mark tense behind him and grinned in delight when the scribbly touches turned to squeezes pinching gently at his hip and up his sides.

“Oh, ho, you are—” The squeeze tightened until Damien nearly fell out of his lap with a bark of laughter. “This is entirely cheating. And dangerous. You have no idea what I want to do with you—do to you.”

Damien squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling shakily. Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Don’t let him see how horrendously giddy the last couple seconds made you. “Please. You’re at my mercy, don’t you remember? This night will go however I say it will go.”

The teasing touches had returned to just that, sliding up his ribs carefully and forcing an involuntary shudder as they edged too close to the top. “Right, well, right now your mercy wants you to be at my mercy, so maybe you should ease up on your desire just a bit so I don’t actually kill you.”

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

“I mean it, Damien.” Damien could hear the serious edge in his voice—or rather how hard he was trying to keep a serious edge in his voice. It was clear that desire and excitement were winning out over any kind of concern for Damien’s wellbeing. “I don’t think you understand the full breadth of your own powers sometimes. Not to mention the fact that I—well. It’s not a desire that I wouldn’t already be feeling. It’s possible I’d never stop at this rate.”

“I’d stop you if you went too far.”

“Would you?”

Would he? Damien kept his mouth shut, mostly because he himself didn’t know the answer to that question. Mostly because he couldn’t imagine something like this ever going too far. Every time the teasing touches ended, every time Mark finally let him go for the night, every time the laughter died down on his lips, Damien couldn’t help but yearn for more. He had learned to get some of that yearning under control for fear of not wanting to overwhelm Mark with it, but it thrummed underneath his skin in a wild frenzy of want that one day would boil over and consume them both.

Tonight could be that night.

Mark had finally let go of his sides, gaining enough control to move again without destroying the other man. He stayed on the safe side with pleasant touches this time, scratching his back in a manner hard enough to only feel good. It was a decent strategy, as it threw Damien’s wants into disarray. It’s hard to want someone to do something to you when it comes at the price of a different pleasure ending. He hummed reluctantly, leaning his head forward on Mark’s shoulder. Strands of his hair clung to his forehead. They were both sweaty, not from any physical exertion per se, but from the mental strain of holding onto their collective willpowers—in Damien’s case, trying to hold onto both of theirs.

Mark glanced down at the mop of hair disguising the man he was currently tormenting. “You okay?”

“Feels good.”

Mark smiled. He dragged his nails in sharp loops down his back, causing Damien to shudder. And then his smile tensed and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Goddamnit. You’re good. It’s specific tonight, too. The hips, huh?”

Damien’s heart leapt. A giddy smile tugged at his features and he found himself glad that his face was covered. He shook his head against the other man instead of giving any kind of real answer, but evidently that wasn’t enough to satiate him. Damien couldn’t tell if he was prompting the teasing or if Mark was simply eager to win. Possibly, both.

“Normally when it comes to this particular want, the desire is too overwhelming for me to understand its individual parts. But tonight…” Mark’s hands slid from his back, coming to rest at his sides—less than an inch above where Damien wanted them. “It’s the hips. To start, something light and gentle, a casual spidering. Just enough to have you giggling your cocky little head off. Then some pinches to really get you going, and for the finale, I’d dig in and vibrate my thumbs right here—” he tapped a finger against his hip bone—“until you’re begging for even an ounce of mercy. Sound about right?”

Bingo. Damien didn’t respond—couldn’t respond, really, with how hard he was concentrating. His body was shivery, like his whole nervous system was on edge. If Mark had dug in then, it was possible he would have screamed or let out some other embarrassing noise in order to release all this built-up tension.

If he wanted to, he could have made Mark snap right then and there. He had convinced people to do far worse than a bit of tickling, and in this case, Mark wanted it too, so it would have been a breeze to pull off. But he didn’t want to just force him into it. They were playing a tenuous game of tug-o-war, and Damien didn’t want to knock Mark off his feet. He just needed to pull him forward enough to make him break without doing something that might actually kill Damien from how intense it got.

Still, Damien had to admire Mark’s resolve. He was getting a lot better at resisting his ability.

Damien still couldn’t tell if he liked that or not.

Mark had gone back to kissing, though this time it quickly strayed from his neck. He pressed insistently on Damien’s chest, and the other man obediently fell back on the bed to allow Mark more access. Mark rucked up his shirt to his chest, his lips skimming over Damien’s skin—down his ribs, teeth grazing against the skin while his hands rested at his hips, drumming teasingly.

“Mark,” Damien growled out. He gripped Mark’s hair, but didn’t pull him away. “Just—”

“Just?” Mark had paused at his stomach, and the skin there trembled at the proximity. “Use your words, Damien. Just what?”

“Please.”

Mark paused. “I didn’t expect to get that.”

“Oh my god—”

“But you’ll have to be more specific—please what?” Mark glanced up at his flushed face, Damien's brows pinched together in an expression of want. “From how you’re acting, maybe you mean 'please fuck you'?”

Damien choked out a laugh, letting his hand fall over his face. “Don’t be crass. I don’t think we’d still be here if that was it.”

“Fair.”

Mark held horrendously, frustratingly still, waiting for Damien’s concession to give him the permission they both were looking for. Damien gnawed at his lower lip, desire squirming anxiously in his stomach. He was so close. He was still holding onto his pride by a hair and he was considering tipping that desire over the scale just enough to make Mark do what he wanted. It stood at his command, ready for him to wield it.

Mark inhaled shakily, resting his head against Damien’s stomach. They both ignored the jump as Mark’s hair brushed against his bare skin. “Damien, you’re killing me here—”

“Please—fuck, please just fucking tickle me already, Mark, or I swear to god—fuhuhUHUCK!”

Laughter spilled out of Damien in wild waves as fingers scribbled into his hips at last. They were clumsy, frantic movements as both Mark and Damien’s wills worked together to bring the latter to ruin. Still, hours of anticipation had served to ramp Damien’s nerves to such an intensity that it hardly mattered. His hands shot down immediately to try to pry Mark’s off of him to no avail. Normally he tried to keep up some semblance of dignity when the tickling first started, but at this point, he couldn’t be bothered to care what he looked or sounded like. All he knew was that it tickled and he needed to stay like this for as long as they both could last.

Mark’s lips were everywhere, biting, kissing and licking all over his torso in a manner that was unfairly ticklish. Though he was never able to pull off a full beard, Mark had a stubble that he had to tame every once in a while. Damien would never admit it, but he was kind of into the subtle shadow it added to Damien’s face. Now, he wanted to rip off what hair was there and shove it down Mark’s smug throat.

While his mouth was free roaming, however, his hands remained at Damien’s hips. Scribbling, pinching, digging, whatever Damien’s desire wanted in that moment. Mark followed the unspoken instructions to a T, and Damien was going to kill him if he didn’t stop soon.

“Markmarkmark plehehehease!” Damien’s legs kicked out violently, but with Mark in-between his legs, it didn’t do much good. His back was arched and his hair crushed and twisting in fifteen different directions against the bed. Sensation zipped through his body like he was a livewire, forcing his mouth up into a manic grin. He was sure he looked insane. He felt insane. He had never wanted to kiss Mark more. “It fuhuhucking tihihickles, it tickles you d-dihihick!”

“Well, then it seems like I’m doing a good job, doesn’t it?” Mark muttered against his skin. “Now sit back and enjoy yourself. It’s going to be a long night.”

And Damien did just that, pressing himself back against the bed. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to just laugh.

Sometimes, Damien mused later that night, losing could have its benefits.

[magicxc]

Hills and Valleys

Synopsis: Legend has it that Halloween is strictly for the scares. With ghouls and goblins, vampires and werewolves, witches and broomsticks, who could disagree?

However, all this friend group wanted was a little trick or treat. Sprinkle in a few party favors, loud music and a cabin in the woods, the myth was bound to come true.

Lurking around the corner is danger like never before, eager to bring this night to a bloody finish.

So join these friends as they fight to make it through a Hallween they’ll never forget.

Word Count: 3506

Warnings: murdaaaa, tha big reveal

Chapter 6 - Jasons POV

A/N: this is legit like my 5th attempt at uploading this damn fic. From the warnings to the word count to the moodboard to the story all the way down to the fucking tagsssss 😩 I am TIRED. Almost turned my phone into jello over Dumblr. So please, enjoy; cause tears def went into this.

Series Masterlist

“What’s with the scrutiny all of a sudden?” Emery challenged. “You know I could say the same for you Jason, the same for all of us really; cause where was anyone when our friends were fighting for their lives?” she sniffled. “All we have to do is sit here til sunrise and we can’t even do that.”

As annoying as I find Emery, she made a decent point. Where was I? Where was anyone and how did this manage to happen unheard? Do I actually believe Lorenzo did it? Not really. He’s lost arguably the two closest people in his friend group, cradling Stephanie in his arms for God knows how long. For a second I almost believed he’d break through the window if it meant he could reach out and hold Julianna much the same; his behaviour eerily composed, reminding me of the calm before the storm - and what a shit storm it’s turned out to be.

Serving in the military, I was taught to survive in extreme atmospheric conditions; training to fight in places as scorching as the desert and as icy as the snow. Our exercises also saw us in unsturdy places such as the choppy currents of the water, arms linked together as we floated on the surface for hours. The sky was no exception either, learning to parachute from altitudes so high the air was all but limited. It wasn’t my dream to fight for this country but, life happens. And while it did come with its perks, I wouldn’t recommend any sane person to join. I’ve scraped so many bodies off the battlefield and sent so many others to meet their maker, I’ve become somewhat desensitized to death - learning to keep calm during the most chaotic and life threatening moments because it’s only then that I was able to live to tell the tale. And that’s what I’ve been attempting since we all found ourselves locked in this place - surviving, lending out my experience to the team who quite frankly doesn't deserve it at this point. All I can do is stay calm long enough to see this night through.

“I think we should waterboard the fucker.”

And here the fuck we go. I’ve never pegged Lynn for such a firecracker but I get it. After all, this night is drawing all sorts of emotions from people: showing our true colors when the universe dangles something so priceless before us.

It's been said that about 1800 people have jumped from the golden gate bridge, yet only 35 have survived the fall. And each person that’s survived has explicitly stated that they regretted jumping halfway through the fall, realising, in the face of imminent danger, just how solvable all their problems seemed. Much like tonight, in what happened to be a party gone horribly wrong, recovering bodies littered around the house like candies during an easter egg hunt, only then do you realise how desperately you want to live. Many people are familiar with the term fight or flight, but what goes most overlooked is a secret third thing - fear. Fear so intense it freezes you to one spot like a deer in headlights, too afraid to move from the oncoming beams of tragedy. But another emotion fear pulls from us is survival, an emotion so fierce that you’d find yourself doing just about anything to have it; even going as far as to commit interrogation tactics of torture.

“Exactly which fucker are you referring to?” Emery questioned.

“Whoever the fucker is responsible for this mess.”

“Go ahead and point them out for us since you know every damn thing.”

They’re on their own with this one. I can't deal with the bickering. I'm used to organized and thought provoking responses in such situations; my irritation rising the more it sinks in just how wet they are behind the ears.

“Lorenzo, you’re one more insult away from me socking you in the face.”

“Whatever Lynn, what you should hit is the books you dumbass,” he retorts.

Throwing her shoe at him, it just barely misses his face; Emery stepping in to call them both childish.

“So help me God if you don’t get your shit together, I’m gonna whoop you like your parents should have.”

“Fuck you Lenny, at least my parents were active enough in my life not to let me get raised by the help.”

“Parent,” Lorenzo enunciated. “Had your dad been able to afford the help, maybe your mom would’ve stuck around you motherless bitch.”

Well shit.

“Jason, do something!”

“Right, uhhh all shoes in the middle of the floor,” I instructed.

“Asshole.”

I don’t know why Emery insists on calling me out. Everyone, despite tonight’s circumstances, in this room is responsible for their own actions. Yet she expects me to jump in the middle of their bullshit every time. I don't know what kind of savior complex they have going on, but I won’t be a part of it. I barely want to be with sugar at this point.

“Lenny you motherfucker, two parents plus the help and yet no one taught you what it means to have common decency; no wonder women can’t wait to get rid of you.”

“Well if it isn’t the whore of Babylon here to teach us a lesson about keeping partners. Tell you what, you teach me how to keep a woman and I’ll teach you how to get rid of the clap.”

“Sex shaming is not cool,” Emery criticized.

“And neither is half the things that's been flapping past Lynn's lying ass lips,” Lorenzo retorted. “If you’re gonna be biased, do so from the corner of the room, cause you’re at about arms length right now and that’s not good for you.

“Would you seriously hit me?” she ridiculed.

I would.

“Are you surprised Em, this is the same piece of shit who yanked Julez arm so hard, it left bruises.”

“You dramatic whore, no the fuck I did not.”

“And that was in front of an entire crowd, who knows what you’re capable of behind closed doors huh? Drowning? Slicing?”

“Sounds like you’re in the mood to find out.”

“Tell me their last words to you as you watched them fight for their lives you piece of shit.”

“YOU GUYS PLEASE.”

Oh my God.

“Shut your mouth Lynn.”

“Tell me every horrifying detail about what fucked you up so bad that you’d turn on your own friends in such a way.”

“I won't ask you again.”

“Steph probably begged you to finish her off didn’t she? Eager to get the hell away from you and your perverted advances.”

For a big guy, Lorenzo’s pretty damn swift. Maybe it’s because all those drinks are still sloshing around in my bloodstream but my cat like senses wasn’t quick enough to catch him.

Angrily lunging toward Lynn his hands are tightly wrapped around her throat, arms trembling from the forceful hold. Beads of sweat drip down his forehead, while spittled foam gathers at the corners of his mouth. Blinking away tears, thick veins line the surface of his neck, incoherent mumbling tumbling past his lips.

Sugar desperately beats at his arms, struggling for air he refuses to give her and my anger shoots through the roof, their foolishness pissing me off for the final time. It takes both me and Emery to tear Lorenzo away from sugar, his grip firm and unrelenting. For a second I feared that he actually intended to kill her. Once we finally manage to drag him away, it takes me putting my full weight on this man, using one of my hand to hand combat moves to lock him into place.

Pinned beneath me, I scream to Emery to grab anything strong enough to tie his arms together. She brings me back one of the kitchen towels and I roll us sideways so that she can wrap it around his hands.

“I - I can't do it, he won’t stop thrashing his arms.”

“For fucksake Emery TRY, there’s only so much I can do right now.

With lots of wiggling and flailing, Emery manages a decent enough knot for me to turn him over and reinforce it. Sugar finally catches her breath before storming into the kitchen.

We sit Lorenzo in a chair while Emery tries to coax him into comfort. Standing up, he head butts me in the face, my nose immediately leaking blood from the impact. My fist returns the favor, knocking him back into the chair. Emery harshly tugs on my elbow, begging me to stop, and it takes everything in me to do just that because this fight was about to turn real unfair, real quick.

Dragging my arm across my face, I look about the room for anything to tie down his legs to the chair, coming up with some loose cloth, which undoubtedly was a part of someone’s costume.

“Fuck all of you,” Lorenzo screams.

“No Lenny, fuck you,” sugar screeched, thumping back to the room; a pitcher full of water cradled between her hands.

“Woah, woah, woah LYNNLEY. Are you fucking serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“This is Lenny, the same Lenny we’ve known since middle school.”

“People change Em and I'm about to show you just how much.”

“Sugar, maybe we should-“

“Shut up, all of you.”

“I know there’s been a lot said tonight, some things in particular we can never take back,” Lorenzo sighed. “And I know tensions are high right now, but are they so high that you’d all sit there and watch me die.”

“Lorenzo, no one’s gonna kill anyone man.”

“It’s WATERBOARDING, you of all people should know that it can very well get fatal.”

“Enough of this.”

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, she pulls his head back, pouring enough water on him to drench his clothes, before being snatched away by Emery.

It's not nearly enough to kill him, but it does make for some discomfort, much like accidentally snorting a noseful of water once you dive inside a swimming pool. It burns but that's about it.

Coughing through his discomfort, I listen as sugar and Emery go back and forth over the severity of it all; and I briefly contemplate killing myself if it means that I won't have to deal with their nonsense. I honestly don't know if I can make it to sunrise like this and by the looks of it, neither will they.

Their bickering finally subsides, them agreeing only to question the man and nothing more. Of course Lorenzo detests it, that for no other reason than a hunch he’s guilty and lowkey he’s right. But then again, I'm not inserting myself into their madness. They’ve made it this far in this fucked up friend circle, they can make it the rest of the night.

“So lemme get this straight, you went upstairs to find cell signal and somehow found yourself next to a knife stricken Steph?”

“Lynn, ask your damn question.”

“How did you end up there and why?”

“My phone fell out of the window and I was looking for someone elses to use. It just so happened that Steph was the first person I found.”

“I think we should stop asking who may have done it, but why?” Emery proposed. “I feel like if we can figure out who had motive, we can narrow it down.”

“Well this is a pretty fucked up way to narrow things down. I'm literally tied to a chair.”

“That's because you choked me.”

“And I’ll do it again, you’ve been out of pocket since this whole thing started. How do we know you’re not the killer huh?

“Because I’m holding back from killing you now,” she shrieks.

Spitting, the thick glob lands directly on her chest, sugar all but emptying the contents of the pitcher onto his face; angrily clomping back into the kitchen to no doubt fill it again, but not before slapping him across the cheek.

Wet and stinging, that's quite the combination. I fear this has gone on long enough and it's only escalating. As much as I wanted to stay out of it, I think I better intervene.

Following sugar into the kitchen, I try to talk her out of this crazed state, her dazed pupils letting me know that she’s too far gone for reason. Pushing past me, she heads back into the living room where we see Emery struggling to untie the knots off Lorenzo, his violent coughing trying to dislodge the water that seeped into his lungs.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“The hell does it look like I'm doing Lynn, this is mad and it needs to stop now.”

“Not until I get some answers.”

“People who talk, talk after their first contact with water,” I bargained. “And he’s not talking.”

“All that means is we have to get him talking then.”

“OR, it means he didn’t do it. You pour a bucket of water over someone’s nose and they’ll tell you whatever you want to hear if it means you’ll stop.”

“And yet you did it anyway,” she glared.

“There was a time where I would’ve died for all of you. I found a family in you guys and it filled a void I didn’t even know I had. And in one night, one measly fucking night I lose it all,” Lorenzo whimpered. “My best friend gets murdered without us ever properly mending things between us. I had to watch the love of my life die in my arms. And now, my other friend is actively trying to kill me, disregarding our decade long friendship all in the name of anger.

“Lorenzo, you did this to yourself!”

“LYNN, how fucking cruel can you be?”

“It’s alright Em, I’ve been known to be a bit of an asshole, though I’d like to think I meant well,” he bitterly chuckled, snot trickling down his nose. “Do me a favor and survive this fucked up night, cause God only knows who Lynn will turn on next. Not to mention that fucker over there,” he says, head nodding toward me. “Ain't it a little odd how all of this starts happening the moment he shows up? Yet I'm the one you helped him strap down to a chair. They ask what would you do for a klondike bar, but you better start asking what would Lynn do for a piece of dick, cause apparently it’s kill for it.”

“Lorenzo, I'm actually on your side. The only reason you’re even tied to that chair is because you attacked two people in this room,” I defended.

“And what's the reason I'm being waterboarded huh? Who weaseled that thought in her mind? You say you fight for your country? Motherfucker you can't even fight for the people in this room, but you like what’s happening huh?

“Not at all man.”

“We get it, I'm a dumb hoe, but you’re about to be a dead one if you don’t fess up.”

“And then what? You’ll let me go free?”

“Jason, please help me untie him,” Emery pleaded.

“Em don’t you fucking dare.”

Lunging toward her, hands get tangled into hair and nails get scratched into skin before I can get between them. It takes more strength than I care to give to hold Emery back, both she and sugar throwing around insults.

“Lynn I swear, you’re more trouble than you’re worth,” Lorenzo taunted. “YOU ARE THE CUM SHOT YOUR MOTHER SHOULDVE SWALLOWED. It would’ve saved your dad a lifetime of headaches and your mother the embarassm-“

Lorenzo’s words get cut off by the splashing of water, his gurgling noises buried under the guzzling of the pitcher. Emery goes wild, hitting my chest repeatedly and I toss her to the ground, jetting over to the scene behind me. Slapping the pitcher from Lynn’s hands, it's on the verge of empty, nothing but a trickle left inside as it splatters to the floor.

Lorenzo’s body furiously thrashes around, his chest caved in and head hung over with water spluttering from his mouth in an attempt to rid it from his body.

“Shit, Lynnley what the fuck did you do,” I screamed.

Emery is struggling to undo the knots, but all she’s doing is pulling them tighter together. I race over and lean the chair forward, hoping for gravity to expel some of the water from his airway, his body jerking about minorly.

“Why are you just standing there, find something to cut him loose.”

Scrambling into the kitchen, I hear dishes clinking and slamming together before Lynn comes running out with a knife, slicing through the cloth as best she can. The kitchen towel, since it was the thickest, took the longest and by the time we got him out the chair and on the floor, his fits has ceased.

Getting into position, I lock my hands together and press down on his chest, 30 times just like we did in training.

“Emery, once I count to 30 I need you to tip his head back and blow two big breaths into his mouth okay.”

“And what do I do?”

“Stay the fuck over there, I doubt he’d want your help at this point,” Emery yelled.

We do five sets of 30 compressions. The CPR forces out some of the water but Lorenzo is still unconscious.

“Why isn’t it working?” Emery wails.

“Em-“

“Why are you stopping, keep going.”

“Stop.”

Pushing against my chest, Emery restarts CPR.

“The lungs are about 9 inches in height, that's a little under a foot.”

“Nobody cares, just fucking help me.”

“The pitcher that Lynn poured over his face looked to be about 64 ounces and she did it twice. That was enough water to fill his lungs three times over.”

“We can do it, I know we can,” she croaked.

“There's no amount of CPR that can expel that much water. And his lungs are so heavy they’re actively swelling as we speak.”

“We won’t know unless we try Jason, you get the mouth and I’ll get the chest.”

“Blowing air into his already expanding lungs won't help Emery.”

“Am I supposed to just watch him die then?” she chided. “Isn’t there a way to drain it?”

“I'm no doctor and neither do we have the tools or the sterile space to do that.”

“Fuck a sterile space!”

“Not only would you infect him but stabbing anything in his chest to ‘drain it’ will only make him bleed out. We would need a very specific and precise needle.”

“No, we can do it,” she answered, starting the compressions again.

The splattering of liquids on the floor lets me know that Lynn has just emptied the contents of her stomach, but I'm in no mood to comfort.

“The body works in 3’s. Three days without water, three weeks without food, and three minutes without air. It’s been about seven now.”

“Shut up.”

“Lorenzo’s lungs are so heavy they’ve probably detached from his windpipe. That, coupled with no oxygen to his brain…at least he was unconscious before it happened.

“Jason either you help me or you leave,” Emery threatened, fat teardrops rolling down her face in droves.

There’s five stages of grief and they’re at the first one. Back against the furniture, I hold my head in my hands, listening to sugars light whimpers and Emery's ragged breathing.

She tires herself out with compressions, fists flying to his chest, pleading for him to wake up. Hands clutched over her ears, sugar rocks back and forth, mumbling out apologies, expletives, and frustrations; guilt no doubt eating her alive.

Hands dropping to my pocket, I rummage around for anything I can chew on, ready to get out of here and never see these people again. Fingers slipping free with the peppermint goodness, I unwrap it and pop it in my mouth.

Some minutes pass by, how many I don't know and the night grows quiet. As tragic as it’s been for everyone, this minute's peace brings about a small sense of tranquility. There’s the occasional sniffle and I watch as the sky transitions from pitch black to a pale pink, the telltale sign of the sun about to rise.

“At least his parents will be home soon right?” sugar questions.

“Yep, right in time enough to see their only son sprawled out on the floor and his friends scattered across the property. So much for the new owners, their home just turned into a crime scene.”

“Do you have any more gum?” Emery asked, voice sore from crying.

Tossing it in her direction, she catches it, face upturned once she removes the wrapper.

“Eww, Jason what the fuck, who the hell buys brown gum? What kind of flavor even is this?”

“It's peppermint,” I answered, popping a bubble.

“Still weird, I haven’t seen this shit since-“

The words die on her tongue. She looks up to me, revelation fresh on her features, which slowly etches into panic, as a sinister grin makes its way onto mine.

[butterflyintochains]

It's A Cruel Summer

Six years of happiness, from Raleigh 2011 to the 2017 Eastern Conference final. Kris and Erik have loved each other for six years, and vowed not to let results of games get in the way of that. I've made allusions to a breakup in previous fics, and how they've recovered from it. But, I've never actually written about it before.

But, now it's time, this is gonna be a rough one.

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

Columbus are gone, they've beaten Washington, and now, all they need to do is get past Ottawa in this game seven. Kris sends a silent prayer on high that they can get this done tonight. He might not be playing this game, but he's still a Penguin. He flanks Sully as they enter the dressing room, he's been helping coach while recovering from neck surgery. Flower sends him a knowing glance, Kris tries to take deep breaths. Not too far away is the reason why he's dreading having to watch this game. Erik is leading his Senators, and doing an impeccable job at it as well. Sully gives the speech, and does the read. ''Anything to add, Tanger?'' Sully asks him.

Kris tries not to throw up, but musters the ability to say. ''Show them who we are, you are my brothers, and I trust you to get this done.'' The team exit the room, pumped up to give the home crowd a show to remember. Kris goes to the management booth to watch the game. He can just make out Erik on the blueline, he's not seen Erik all day, it was their sixth anniversary back in January. This game won't hurt them, right? They promised each other that ages ago.

The game gets going, Murray being the gift he is, facing an onslaught of shots from the Sens players. Anderson is no slouch either. In all, the goalies steal the show for the first period. ''You okay, son?'' Mario asks Kris.

Kris nods, opening a bottle of water. ''Yeah, just... important game, y'know?''

Kuny opens up scoring early in the second, Stone netting one not long after. ''Come on, boys.'' Kris says, hands clasped together. The second period ends in a bit of a whimper. However, midway through the third, Schultzy puts them up 2-1 with a powerplay goal. Only for Dzingel to tie things back up three minutes later. ''We're going to OT, huh?'' Kris asks Mario.

Mario chuckles. ''Yeah, I believe so, son.''

The first overtime yields them nothing. So, onto a second. The Penguins bearing down, Kuny sending them through to the final 3-2. They've done it! Another cup final!

After press and celebrations, Kris goes to find Erik. Now, he's finally allowed to break the no contact rule they have before games. Erik looks furious. ''Oh, hi, Kris. Come to gloat?''

Kris is stunned. ''What? No! Can't a guy come see his partner?'' Erik says, finally meeting his gaze, his dark eyes unusually angry. ''Hope you're happy, enjoy that third cup, Kris.''

Kris would normally take that as praise, but now it's just infuriating. ''What's that meant to mean? I've not even been on the fucking ice, Erik.''

Erik says. ''Somehow that makes all this worse, I've lost what could be my best shot at a cup.''

Kris tries to de-escalate things, he's had plenty of mediating experience with Sid and Geno. He's the conscience of his family. ''I know what this feels like, and I so wish we could do this together. But, Erik, it's me, your Kris. We don't do this to each other, do we?''

Erik waves his hands, gesturing to the grieving dressing room ten feet away. ''We also don't do this to each other.'' Kris asks, the realty of what's going on here setting in. ''Are you breaking up with me?'' Erik shrugs. ''Maybe I am.''

Kris swallows past tears, six years and four months, and this is how it all ends. ''Erik, please, I love you, after all we've been through, don't do this to us.''

Erik says, turning on his heel. ''Goodbye, Kris. Good luck on number three.''

In shock, Kris goes back to check on the boys, they're still celebrating. He turns on his heel, and goes out to his car. Sobbing all the way home. That night, his phone blows up with texts from the boys, he answers none of them, he tries to call Erik, silence.

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

They do win number three, in six against Nashville. The festivities go by in a blur. Kris definitely drinks too much at Mario's party, halfway trying to put himself out of his misery. He washes his hands after touching the cup once more before it's sent away to be engraved. Sure, he's got his name on it three times, at the expense of the love of his life. But, that's hockey, right? He's out on the first flight home to Montreal, hoping Erik is there when he arrives. He isn't. This is gonna be a long summer. Those first days at home are quiet, almost too quiet, the silence of his own home eating him alive. No chatter over dinner, no laughter, just a deafening silence. His phone sits on his side of the bed turned off. One day, he's putting laundry away, when he finds one of Erik's Ottawa hoodies in his dresser. Against his will, the tears come again, he puts the red hoodie back in the drawer, and collapses onto his bed.

The NHL Awards come quickly in Vegas. Kris decides to go to support Sid. He may be in the worst mental state he's ever been in, but his brother needs him. First, however, comes the expansion draft for the incoming Vegas Golden Knights. He half hopes they take Erik out of Ottawa, just to get him out of the east, send him somewhere where distance helps this hurt less. They take Nealsy from Nashville, and Engelland from Calgary. ''Kris, mon ami, are you going to explain to me why you haven't called any of us in a week?'' Flower asks.

Kris vaguely says. ''Something terrible happened after we beat Ottawa.'' Flower knew about them, Sid didn't, and it'd be a waste to tell him now. Flower seems to need a minute to get what he means, but he catches on. ''Oh, oh, Kris.''

Kris shrugs, barely holding in the tears. ''Shit happens, I guess we weren't meant to be.''

Flower looks heartbroken. ''That's the thing, Kris. You were meant to be.''

Ottawa give up Marc Methot. And, Kris is stuck in a conference with Erik still. Then, the unthinkable happens. Sid, Geno, and Kris get the news they would give anything to unhear.

Vegas is taking Flower away from them.

This summer just got so much worse.

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

Sleep is weird, especially once you get used to sleeping with someone. It takes just one night to get used to it, but forever to be able to sleep alone again. Kris is sitting up in his living room, watching replays of old F1 races. Sebastian Vettel is about to win Monza in his Torro Rosso. Canada Day was yesterday, and some of the boys went to Sid's annual party in Cole Harbour. He guesses Sid will be en route to Miami now, to spend the summer with Geno. Erik will have been in Sweden since that horrible night. Flower is probably in Vegas, getting to know everyone on his new team. The jersey from game six of the final hangs with the other two above the TV. 2009 was so much fun, a young team chasing glory everyone else be damned. 2016 is the pride of his career, Sid assisting his cup winning goal. 2017 stares him in the face, holding everything he's lost over him. ''I hate you.'' He tells that jersey. The problem child of the three.

He must pass out at some point, because it's noon when he wakes up. He eats quickly, and laces up his sneakers for a run. His doctor gave him the all clear for exercise later into the playoffs. He gets home, showers, and looks back up at the 2017 jersey. Would he still have Erik without it? Would Erik still love him? Either way, the thing needs moved. So, he takes it down, and moves it into his office. 2009 and 2016 shouldn't need to live with that one either. He also polishes his rings, the gems still sparkling as they did. Six unholy weeks until he has hockey to drown himself in. He can make it, right? He has to, doesn't he?

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

A couple of slow and quiet weeks pass, the cup getting passed around the team. Kris takes it to a local kids' hospital, to his schools, and takes a trip into Val D'Or. Finally, he takes it to Luc's grave. Just as he did in 2009 and 2016. ''I miss you, Luc, wish you were here. All three of these are for you, I hope you always know that.'' He says, his last engagement with the cup before the handover.

Far away, in Sweden, Erik lies awake. Staring at his phone, it'll be Kris' day with the cup. He's dreading going back to Ottawa, having to be stuck in the same conference as the man he so brutally dumped over something so fucking stupid. He wants so badly to call Kris up and beg for his forgiveness, maybe even start to repair the damage. But, in his soul, he knows Kris would never take him back now. He crossed a line, the pain is just too big, he doesn't deserve Kris or his forgiveness. So, in the end, he thinks better of it.

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

July is slowly coming to its close, Kris is already packing up for his flight to Pittsburgh. He'll be going back on the first week of august. Best to get the hell out of here quickly, before Erik flies into Ottawa. He goes back upstairs to get his laptop charger, and a knock comes at the door. He goes to answer it, it's Mario. ''Mario, hi, come on in.'' He welcomes his second father into his house, and gets some coffee going for Mario, with some tea for himself. Mario looks around, noticing the two framed jerseys above the TV. ''Where's the most recent one, Kris?''

Kris puts their mugs down with some donuts. ''In my office, thought it'd look nicer there.'' He lies, the real reason too depressing to speak about. ''What brings you here?''

Mario sips his drink. ''We've been worried about you, Kris. Even my most adjusted son needs me. Sid hasn't heard from you since june, nobody has.''

Kris says, gripping his arm. ''I've just had a lot going on, that's all, Mario, really.''

Mario scans his face, he's known Kris since he was eighteen, he can't hide anything that easily. ''That being? I won't tell anyone else, Kris, I promise.''

Kris takes a deep breath. ''Someone who I'd been with for six years dumped me after the eastern conference final.'' Mario looks devastated. ''Oh, Kris, oh God, I'm so sorry, son. If I may, who was it?'' Kris grimly chuckles. ''You'd never believe me if I told you, Mario.'' Mario smiles kindly, and says. ''Try me. Tell me, son.''

Kris says. ''Erik Karlsson.'' The name fills him with a depressing mixture of love and misery. ''Oh... oh, wow.'' Is all Mario can say. Now, Papa Penguin as the boys used to call him, knows why the 2017 jersey is tucked away in the office. ''Yeah.'' Kris says, voice breaking. Mario takes his heartbroken son into his arms, and lets him cry. He's raised his boys through so much, and clearly one still needs him. ''I love him, Mario, I miss him.''

Mario says. ''I know, son, I know.'' He goes into the briefcase he brought over, and says. ''I know this is small compensation, but, Jim, Sully, and I think it's time.'' He extracts two jerseys, home and away, with his name, number, and a big A on them. ''Alternate Captain, Kris Letang, sound good?''

Kris dries his eyes, and nods. ''Yeah, I'm honoured, Mario.'' Mario assures his surrogate son. ''You'll be okay, Kris, we'll make sure of it.'' Kris nods, hoping he's right.

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

Erik sees the tweet once back in Ottawa for camp, the tweet with the picture of Kris in his new jersey, the yellow A sitting proudly on his chest. He's smiling for the camera, arms around Sid and Geno, all with their letters.

@Penguins: tweeted 12/08/2017 at 10am. Long overdue, we proudly present this season's leadership core. Captaining our team as he always does, Sidney Crosby. Returning as an Alternate, Evgeni Malkin. And, finally sporting a well deserved A, Kris Letang. The Big Three will lead us going forward.

He's so proud of Kris, he's always been upset about everyone else but him getting an A, especially Jordan Staal after his half assed attempt to overthrow Sid. Now, he's finally gotten his letter. Kris looks so beautiful with his new jersey and haircut, too beautiful to allow Erik back into his life.

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

The banner flies high over the rink, five Stanley Cups. Geno nudges his brother. His brother who all but coached them to that third cup together. ''You okay, Legend?''

Kris nods, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. ''Yeah, must've had a rough night last night.'' Geno doesn't believe a word of that, he's known Kris too long to believe that. Something isn't right with his brother, all is not well in this family. But, everyone knows Kris would rather light himself on fire before telling anyone how he feels. ''Are you sure?''

Kris nods. ''Yeah, I'll be okay, G.'' He tries so hard to sound like himself, and feel like himself. But, all it takes is seeing a loving glance Sid and Geno share, and he wants to cry. Three and a bit months ago, he had that with Erik, and now it's all gone, and it's never coming back. He doesn't even have Flower to lean on anymore.

The games tick by, the team are still on fire from their cup. Oh well, Kris bitterly thinks, at least he's got his team, at least his two remaining brothers are with him. One day in training, Sid just wraps his arms around Kris. ''Whatever this pain is, Kris, it won't last forever. I don't need to know what it is, just let us hold you up.''

Kris nods, sniffling. ''I will, Sid, I promise.''

Sid pats his shoulders, forever tense these days. ''I love you, mon frere.''

Kris' eyes well up. ''I love you too, mon capitan.''

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

The game Kris and Erik alike have both been dreading arrives on November 16th. Kris takes his seat next to Geno on the plane. They don't play cards, Geno feels like Kris is having a 'down day' as the team have called them. Those days where Kris says nothing, sits at the edges of a conversation, and won't smile for anyone. Geno looks over to Sid while Kris sleeps on his shoulder. This is not the time or place to be prying, so they won't, but this is really starting to worry them.

They touch down in Ottawa. Geno gently wakes his brother up. Kris blinks a few times, and the trio get off the plane together. They're bussed down to the training rink for a practice session. Kris leads the defence corps through some backward skating laps, a wistful look on his face as Dumo skates his lap. ''Didn't you do fastest skater like that at the 2011 All Star Game, Tanger?'' Jake asks.

Kris' face goes white, his dark eyes well up again. ''Yeah, I did. Can we, not talk about it, please?''

Sheary asks. ''Why not? It was so cool, though!''

Kris regains his composure, reeling himself in from the edge. ''I know, Shearsy, but, that was then, this is now, y'know?''

The game is that evening. Kris suits up for battle in silence, enjoying hearing all the chatter around him, but having no part in it. Erik is in this building, so close he can feel him. But, things are different now. Sully comes in to do the read. ''Alright, boys, let's give it our all. In net: Muzz. Up front, Guentzel, Crosby, Rust. On the blueline, Dumoulin and Tanger.'' Oh... oh, no. Staring into those eyes on faceoff.

Faceoff comes, Kris looks at Sid, his brother, someone who loves him. Not at the one who broke his heart. Sid wins the drop, and it's off to the races. The first period yields them nothing. Erik sits in the dressing room, playing against Kris was never this difficult before, it never felt like a bomb had been lit under him before, everything has changed. And, it's all his stupid fault.

Horny gets the Pens on the board. And, capping off the second period, the Top Unit teams up for another one from Jake. Kris finds Erik's eyes on the Senators bench, and cocks an eyebrow. And, Erik just wants to reach out and apologize, kiss him in front of both of their teams. But, he lost that right this past spring.

After the Penguins' 3-1 win over the Senators. Erik just manages to catch Sid outside. He says, captain to captain. ''Sid, can you do me a favour, please?''

Sid happily says. ''Sure, Erik, what's up?''

Erik just says. ''Tell Kris I'm sorry, please?''

Sid looks confused. ''Okay, will do once we're home and rested, captain's promise.''

Erik is quietly relieved, maybe now they can be together again. ''Thanks.''

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

Sid passes on that message one day while Kris is with them for breakfast and watching an F1 race in Abu Dhabi. Kris says nothing, but his silence is deafening. He sips his coffee, and focuses on the race. Geno puts their dishes in the washer, and asks. ''What did Erik even do?''

Kris sips his coffee, focused on Vettel and Hamilton battling for second behind Bottas. ''He knows what he did, G, he fucking knows what he did.''

Sid finds he doesn't much care what Karlsson did, whatever it was, it hurt his brother in some way. No matter what happened, that will never be okay with him. Erik seemed apologetic at the time, but who knows what his motives were? Either way, he and Geno need to protect Kris, he's done it for them far too many times.

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

December comes, Kris takes an early morning walk alone, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat. The snows are coming, the air is colder. He prefers it like this, cold and quiet. He can take a little winter after the torture summer and autumn have put him through. He finds a dry enough bench to sit on, and sits down watching the world go by. He pulls his phone out of his coat, thumb hovering over Erik's name. He shakes his head, and decides to look into adopting a dog. Sid said Sam got him through his rough rookie season, so maybe a dog would help heal his broken heart? It's been rough, getting used to being single after six years, and he's still not used to it yet. He calls Flower. ''Bonjour, mon frere.'' Flower says.

Kris sniffles from the cold. ''Bonjour, mon ami. How's Vegas?''

Flower says. ''Not Pittsburgh, but it's fine. How are you? Geno called yesterday, said you're doing better.''

Kris dusts some snow off his coat. ''I dunno, Flower. Some days I'm fine, others I just want to scream, I miss Erik everyday, though.''

Flower says, sighing. ''I know, if it's any comfort; I don't think this is the end of your story with him. It just can't end like that, y'know? Two people so well matched can't just let that be it.''

Kris confesses, he's had so many dreams he's woken up in tears from about Erik coming here, and them getting to live the life Sid and Geno get to. ''I hope so, I hope you're right, Flower. The dreams I've had of us both being Penguins... they can't be nothing, right? There must be something in them, right?''

Flower says. ''I hope so. For your sake, and his - Ottawa can't win with this version of Erik.''

After a while, they hang up. Kris gets going home. He goes to his award shelves, and picks up the box with the 2017 ring in it. He puts it back, pushing it to the back of the shelf, positioning 2009 and 2016 firmly in the spotlight. 2017 took too much from him, he can't wait for this heartbreak of a year to just be over already.

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

Up north, in Ottawa, Erik gets back from a team lunch, and collapses on the sofa. It's been seven months since he made the biggest mistake in his entire life. Everyone is telling him to keep his chin up, but he can't. In Pittsburgh, there is a wonderful man whose heart he broke over something really fucking stupid, something they promised each other to never fight over. He fucked up, big time. And, the problem is, he sees no possible way to fix this. Kris will never take him back, and Erik doesn't deserve it.

But, still, he hopes this isn't the end of everything.

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

Kris gets home from the shelter, little Buddha in his arms. Instantly the puppy goes to sniff the Tre Kronor scarf Kris removes from his neck. ''A gift from someone I love, little dude.'' Buddha tilts his tiny head. ''You'd have loved him.'' Kris stops the inevitable mental spiral, and gets his new little friend some food and water. At least this shit year has given him a cup, a letter on his jersey, and the sweetest puppy ever.

Still, they're both going to the All Star Game in January. That's definitely gonna suck. At least Sid and Flower will be there, right? They'd never hurt him.

Nothing could ever hurt more than that terrible night this past May. He's certain of that at least.

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

Okay, so... a lot to take in, I know. But, we had to go through this to get to the 2019 All Star Game. I wrote more from Kris' pov here, as he's the wronged party in the breakup. This was rough to write, and I had to take several breaks. This little mini trilogy had to be written in chronological order, or it wouldn't make any sense. So, the angst was necessary for now. And, will feature a bit in the next one. It's 2017/18 that is the season we end on here, so the next will jump forward to 2019.

In order to find the sun, you must go through the storm, y'know?

Anyway, enjoy!

[whalleyrulz]

i got a rejection on a book i had already trunked tonight, and the agent was really nice and fast and i hope this industry doesn't grind them up, bc it was genuinely a really good rejection

but ffffffffuck me i forgot how much that book meant to me, and how long it took to get comfortable with acknowledging it was done, it wasn't getting rep, it's a trunker

and like, i don't know. i love this book, i want it to be on shelves, i want people to meet and get frustrated by arnon and jouel and roan and paranna and marris and leara and nogaru and kiyall and all the chambers, and i want them to see this queer love and this disabled strength and this whole world of recovering from making shit choices, and i know the industry doesn't love this kind of fantasy, but fuck

idk, one day i will work out how to let people in on this great awkward wonderful shitty dark joyous world and all the blatant love letters to all these things i love

and in the meantime i am just gonna keep on writing books, and they're gonna keep getting better, and i will still look back at this as just like

a really good book

i am gonna be sulky for a bit i think, and that's ok

[shrimpynobashi]

Today one of my closest friends did a fuckywucky to another one of my friends, then instead of owning up to it, or even acknowledging it, or even acknowledging me, completely ignored it. It made me angry that it happened, but what’s more, it made me angry that I let her get away with it.

I have this stark memory in the navy about how I, as a senior enlisted person in my division, told my junior, Fenstermaker, to do a maintenance item after he got off watch. This is a very normal thing. In fact, as the sort-of LPO, it was my job. So, the next morning, when I got up, and the maintenance item wasn’t done, I didn’t get mad. I got livid. I went to the bunkroom, tossed his rack curtain back, grabbed him by his hair and the seat of his pants, and literally dumpstered him onto the floor. I had him explain to me why he didn’t do it, that he was sad and missed his wife, and then I lit into him, in front of the entire division, that we *all* were sad, and we *all* missed our wives. The little comforts that were afforded to us was due to the fact that when we went to bed, we had confidence that our fellow sailors would keep shit intact for us long enough to wake up and do the same for them.

I got chewed out for that. Mostly for the physical violence.

But it was a lesson that I sort of taught myself out of anger. I ruminated on what I told him (purely out of spite) and it was something that I knew that wouldn’t extend into civilian life. It’s something that’s hard to replicate; my faith in my coworkers isn’t to prevent a life-or-death scenario, nor should it be. This further extends to my friends, wherein lies the problem.

Another life lesson was last year, for my birthday, I had this large party (as I normally did--if there was ever a reason to celebrate with friends, I would employ it). It was for the most part, one of my favorite birthdays in memory. My wife hid a Smirnoff Ice in my cake and I chugged a 24 oz. bottle in front of everyone. We drank until about 5 AM. I had some wonderful conversations with people I didn’t know I meant that much to.

The next morning, I awoke to my cats frantically trying to get me up. This is normal. They get hungry. So I woke to feed them, and as I approached the kitchen, I stepped on something wet. And again. And my cats stared at me like, “hey, man, what the fuck is up with this?” Turns out, (another of) one of my closest friends smashed my fucking toilet and just...went to bed. It overflowed. It caused $5,400 in property damage. My house still hasn’t actually recovered from it.

Over the next few months, I’d take their friendship and try to be understanding, because, after all, they were in dire straits. Their family wasn’t well-off, and they were going through things. I wanted to be there for them because I thought that if I wasn’t, then no one would be.

This line of reasoning, as it turns out, happens a lot to me.

I remember one thing the guy who flooded my house told me, about how he couldn’t believe I would throw it all away because of this incident. It took me a few weeks to realize that was him manipulating me to think that I was the selfish one.

I am not smart. I have the mental capacity to understand something when I sit down with a textbook and read about it. I love learning. Hard sciences are my favorite. You know what I’m shit at, though? Social things.

Tonight reiterated to me a thought I’ve had for a while, that my friends use me specifically to fulfill a need that only I can achieve for them. It’s time to stop begging for people’s attention, I think, and find some friends who will treat me like equals again.

Ignoring me when I asked for an apology was really all I needed to know about where I fell on your priorities. We’re good, but just know that our relationship will never be the same. The time for apologies is over. I am so weary.

[returntosaturn271995]

Wednesday, August 21st: Keep Calm and Strap On

I had planned to get deep today, my last day of 28. Birthdays trigger us to reflect on the ever-deepening well of our experience. To honor this, I woke up early, meditated peacefully with a straight back, and did a deep hip stretch yoga session. The I greeted Makenna and asked how her morning was:

She had received a 9 am, ship to shore text from Mark, the details of which were unspeakably filthy and followed up with a request for her to fuck him with a strap on.

So yeah, now today is no longer about 28 but will forever go down in our friendship as the day Makenna was asked to peg her boyfriend.

Call me old-fashioned, but I feel like he should have bought her a nice dinner and given her some wine. Instead, she had to hop on a zoom call immediately. "Good morning, coworkers! How IS everyone's hump day?"

Adulthood and romance are so magical. Wait-did I say magical? I meant terrifying. I understand compromise, but how compromising of a position is a girl meant to get in before even an engagement ring?

I'm definitely going to ask Keith his feelings about pegging after I make Monika dinner tonight. Maybe this is what all men want, and we just need to strap in if we expect commitment. The good news is Makenna is in great shape, so at least physically she's up to the task. Personally, I think mentally she'll probably never recover, (and frankly neither would I). That's the kind of sex that makes you feel weird the next time you see your parents...or peaches. Do men shave their asses before pegging? Do we want them to? Are we lame/frigid for not wanting to do any of it? Or are our sexual boundaries there for a reason and it's okay to not like something as long as you don't kink shame?

Carrie Bradshaw never wrote an article on this and the strap-on Samantha Jones used broke her back and ended her stint as a lesbian.

Also-I find this very very funny. I may be almost 29, but I also have the giggles because how can you not?

Today's Outfit: Sienna color sleeveless top, and warm toned patterned maxi skirt. Gold chain necklace, gold and black humming bird ring, gold belt. Brown booties.

Dinner: Beef and wonton stir-fry with snow peas.

Little joys: I bought a plant, a "stay wild" card, and a $34 candle from Mimi and Red for Sarah's bridal shower. I also chatted with the boutique owner—her life's work of 18 years. I also drove Makenna for the first time. She handled it like a champ, granted she was probably a little distracted.

[falsebooles123]

Confessions of a Recovering Genrephobic 6/1/2024

Hey Whores; HOnestly I never know when to diary is it at the beginning of the week or the end. Is its done in segments as I listen to each new album and add it to the never ending tally? So as of this I'm doing it when I open the blog. i think that would capture the mood of the week. I'm having a case of the uneployed itis.

I'm back from a party and it was a nice time. We played cards, (I won), we played chess. (I lost), and i realized that I'm just this really anxious person a lot of the time. I try but its definetly something thats an issue. I also mentally processed some fruedian shit and its fucking me up but thats TMI baby gurrllllll.

I'm not like rationally worried about my life right now but I think I emotionally am and thats something thats really hard to process. And also in my big brain time I just realized tha Worrying about things is an emotion.. and that It's usually kinda irrational.

I'm doing my best this year to move forward to make better choices and I am identifrying and freeing myself of scripts and charteristics that don't serve me.

Um what else. I'm excited for pride month, I can't wait to see $chie again through I worry about if long distance is just a way of denying myself love or some shit. Kinda sad to see the AOS go but CH has just been a fly in the ointment. I'm going to miss chef. NOt just in the personal way but in a Perfessional way. She's really given me a space to grow and take responsibility and I have really needed that in my career.

I am really scared of failing. Its something I'm really bad at and I have to remember that profectionism is the theif of progress. (my best friend gave me a mug that says that so um burn ouch), I really need to make that first step and own my space. I;ve been procrastinating it and that really sucks. Its fuck, its a freeze response just ignoring the problem and hopes it go the way. And also damn I saw a lot about my self tonight all my fear and responsibilty, all the worries I have socially.

Anyway Whores Lets listen to some goddamn albums.

In Rainbows (2007) - RadioHead

Genre: Alt Rock, Experimental Rock Length: 42:39 (8 Tracks)

I'm not a particular big fan of Radiohead, (besides Creep), and so I wanted to give them another chance. and there fine?

Its giving coldplay vibes but not particular anything that I really latched on too.

This entire process is for me to broaden my horizons and explore different music so yeah this was fine.

Almost Human (2000) - Auroro Voltaire

Genre: Dark Cabaret Length: 53:36 (14 Tracks)

Very dissapointed that this hot twink doing a goddamn Saint Sebastian Cosplay is not a homosexual. Kinda wack if your ask me.

(MFW people are straight. )

and this is once again one of those albums that sound like the Artist. I guess if I really cared like a lot about this sort of thing I would try my best to tell you about my favorite artist describe there sound. But I've really realized that I have very little energy to do so. I think going forward I'm not going to write much unless I got something to say.

Anyway do you like gothic (adjacent?) rock. Your'll like this.

How to be a Human Being (2016) - Glass Animals

Genre: Indie Rock Length: 43:16 (11 Tracks)

oh I loved this. So first of all you'll heard Poplar St right?

Now imagine a whole album like this. All Bangers.

This is also a bit of a concept album where all of these songs are at least in part taking from people that the singer met while touring so its very much meant to be a charater study of the human condition or something artsy like that. UMMMM also watch the music videos. they add something to the work this has a cinematic universe so to speak.

This was a lot of fun.

[decaffedthoughts]

Love was meant to be endured. Ensured. Significant. It wasn’t rocket science to see everyone had love, and wanted love in return… 

So, why did it seem as if Sana was ignoring your calls? Biting your lip, you try one more time. Her voice pops up, ‘Hi, I’m not on the phone right now, leave-.’ You cancel the call, and sigh. Staring at the lock screen fo you two. Rubbing the back of your neck, you get up to the kitchen. Grabbing the ramen packets, you start boiling the water. Cooking the ramen, you get a call from Sana. Huffing, you answer. 

“Yeah?” 

“Did you need something?” 

You pause at the harshness of Sana’s voice, “Yes. We need to talk.” 

Sana stayed silent for a while before going, “What’s wrong?” 

That got a snort out of you, “What isn’t wrong. You don’t text me on days on end, and when you do, it’s cold responses. Then when I ask you on a date, you decide to lie to me about being sick then post about you and your friends going out.” 

“Baby, you know how busy I am, maybe I just wanted-.” 

“You know, if this was about you being an idol, I wouldn’t have this need to say anything. I’m fully aware you’re busy. Hell, that would make me unfair, but you know what is unfair? You stringing me along. You lying to me. You going out of your way to pretend to not read my messages, then respond to me days later, right before a tour. That is what’s wrong. So, I’m going to give you two options here,” Sana stayed quiet, “you either leave me or love me. Simple.” 

You wait for a response. Nothing. Furrowing your brow, you check your phone. All you see is a black screen, you double tap the screen. Your lock screen shows itself. Mocking you. Huffing out a laugh, you put your phone on the counter. Knowing your answer. 

(I hope this was good Cas! This was based of Love me or Leave me by Day6!

-from yours truly, Kim Dahyun) 

OW????? WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS???? And with my mfin wife too omg. I need to read some sana fluff tonight to recover, fuck.

Oop- wait @coupsie-daisies this one's actually for you babe. Though, Dahyun, you may be disappointed to find out he doesn't know which one Sana is 😁 (i'm working on it dw)

[crazybigredlove]

13th August 2013

Dear Pete, 

Am drunk. Drunk letters. I'm a writer. How hard could it be? That's what she said. Bless spellcheck. 

Went to a barbecue tonight after that crap chat with Christopher. How very grown-up and boring of me. Next I'll be doing my taxes on time and remembering to floss more than once a month. 

The whole thing reminded me of a comment that Big Red had made on one of our dates about how none of his mates have barbecues or anything like that because they all live at home. That was not the first time it occurred to me that our maturity levels are separated by such a vast chasm that they actually may prevent this from progressing. Of course now that Christopher has highlighted that he is actually MIA and that I only have an interest in Big Red giving me attention rather than actually being interested in Big Red, there is a very real possibility that mentioning him at all is an epic waste of time. 

And by him I mean both of them because they're both dumbheads and they annoy me. 

Painfully suffering in loneliness and determined not to be the only single in a world of couples, somehow managed to convince your brother to come as my pseudo-date. We're not talking about what Simon said. I know he called Simon and I know the first thing Simon would've said was, "Shit, mate! Sorry but I may have told Liv something I wasn't meant to." Possibly not those exact words. Simon is a very rough bloke (and he's grown an impressive beard. I forgot to mention that yesterday) and probably said something a little more masculine and with a lot more swearing, but that would've been the general gist of it. 

Tonight was boring. The conversation raged on around us but I wasn't there. My phone was silent in my handbag. No one seemed to notice that I spent the entire time wanting to scream into it, "Why won't you spend time with me? What was it about me that made you change your mind?!" 

Note to self: Is highly likely that people in general will have a greater desire to spend more time with you if you don't constantly tell him how disappointed you are that they aren't behaving exactly the way you want them to. Seems likely that most people would much prefer spending time with a female who is actually fun. 

Second note to self: With each day that passes it seems much more likely that you are dealing with something way more deep- seated than struggling with having your ego bruised and you are going to end up looking like a fool here if you don't calm down and work out what the fuck is really happening in your head. That's a big sacrifice of self-esteem for a guy that - despite what Dan In Real Life might say - you can't possibly be in love with. 

Third note to self: I am rocking these jeans. Dayum. 

Your brother though. Good Lord. Despite my insistence that I was in no state for drinking or carrying on like a teenager, he seemingly was. All I'm going to say is that following the barbecue he insisted on heading out for a few more drinks, declaring it part of my "treatment". He's a medical professional; I trust him. 

His night can be summarised as such: a car crash, a wedding dress, a police chase, and a puppy who has now visited more pubs than most dogs do in a lifetime. It's all on Instagram if you're curious; it's a mystery how he hasn't spent more time in jail. 

Poor Buffy. I genuinely did have such noble plans to be a responsible dog owner but then while I was chatting casually to someone at the bar, Christopher takes off with my dog, only to reappear a time later with a significantly less hair-covered Buffy. 

The bastard shaved my dog. Where on earth did he find someone or somewhere to shave my dog at that time of night? 

On a positive note there were no stitches for me this time, but it may take me three days to recover from the pounding in my head which I anticipate will take-over my day tomorrow. Or today. What time is it? 

Tell me, if he didn't lodge the paperwork with the city or get a marriage license, would your brother's marriage still be valid? He says it's not, which is why he went through with it. As Best Man it was awkward to be standing there with that information and then not object at the appropriate time, but then probably having a female Best Man should've been a clear indicator that something was awry. Assured that the celebrant was actually just a college buddy of his and not at all qualified to be handing out happily ever afters but at this stage my extreme apathy interferes with my ability to care either way. 

Walking home with Buffy trotting ahead of us, I was blinking back tears. "You okay?" Chris wrapped an arm around which was much appreciated in the chilly early morning air. 

"No. I'm disappointed, you know?" I wiped away a tear. "In Pete?" Laughing bitterly I could taste the cold on my tongue. "No. I'm disappointed in me. In everything. In the decisions I've made, in how my life is turning out, in how I feel so out-of-control and all because one guy I didn't like that much chose a really crap time to not like me either. And Pete? Ugh! I always thought I was so cool, so fucking open-minded, and laidback. Turns out I'm only prochoice when it's not someone I know making that decision." Chris pulled me in closer and with the alcohol, the topic of conversation, and the freezing wind I was helpless to stop a few strays from escaping. 

"I know what you mean. I know it's wrong and it's not my call at all, but at first I couldn't help feeling like he made the wrong decision. Then I remembered. They told him he wouldn't even be able to have kids. When he got sick. The treatment..." "It probably wasn't even his." "We don't even know that there was a baby. Pete loved her, but Stace was known for spinning whatever tale she needed to get herself out of trouble. She wasn't exactly an upstanding and moral person at the best of times." 

"I just thought it would all be different, you know? That I'd be more and I'd be a better person and I'd be happier and whatever the fuck else I thought my life would be. But I'm just me. And it's fucking lonely." 

Christopher stayed silent. It wasn't uncomfortable or forced, he didn't try to fill the silence, but he didn't offer any comfort either and in that moment that was what I needed most. 

Eventually he stood and took my arm. "Come on. It's freezing." 

The Czech sent a message offering to drop by and I was definitely tempted. He's so hot. Ugh. Life would be so much easier if I was one of those girls who could just have sex without emotional attachments. 

This is going to hurt in the morning, isn't it? Your stupid brother. 

Liv x 

[champagneher]

❝𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒎 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔❞ —𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢

pairing: min yoongi x reader

based on: reader posts a picture of yoongi somewhere, and it becomes a meme.

warnings: just fluff.

word count: 1k+

a/n: so... i'm loving this social media au, please if you want, you can request yours. again, english is not my first language, so please, forgive me if i misspell something. thank you for reading!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yoongi was literally on top of Y/n as he slowly kissed her lips and his right hand slowly lowered to her waist where he squeezed lightly.

"Mm, baby, no…" she murmured against his lips, "I have to take a shower." She laughed and with difficulty was able to get out from under him, who only let out a sigh complaining. "We have to get to Jin's house on time, it will be the first dinner all together since we recovered." She walked around the room looking for her clothes to finally enter the bathroom.

"But I'm bored," he lay down, staring at the ceiling. "I told you to take a shower in the morning," he ran his hands over his face, trying to relax. "I miss you..."

"We had sex until 3 in the morning?" Y/n looked at him from the bathroom door frame as she tried not to laugh. "It will only be a few minutes, Yoongs."

"What am I supposed to do until that?" He laughed, looking at her with pleading eyes, but frowned when she entered the bathroom again.

"I don't know," she spoke loudly as she turned on the shower tap. "You can go on Instagram," she suggested, now walking back to the door frame as she waited for the hot water to come out. "Hobi has a good time there, you can kill time."

"Instagram is boring and difficult," he complained. "I don't know how he handles it so well." He looked up. "You handle it well too," he smiled at her. "Should I follow you?"

"No, it'll take a long time if we both go to the shower." She blew him an air kiss before closing the door.

"I meant on Instagram," he replied under his breath to no one, since Y/n was already locked in the other room.

Yoongi reached his right arm to the nightstand on the side of the bed to take his phone to 'kill time'.

Yoongi: Should I follow Y/n on Instagram?

Namjoon: She's your girlfriend, it's up to you, I guess

Namjoon: Also, we always comment on her posts, I don't understand why no one noticed yet 🤷‍♂️

Hoseok: she has loyal friends who don't tell anyone, that's why 😌

Yoongi: Or no one really cares what we say

Yoongi: You guys comment a lot on my girlfriend's posts...

Tae: She literally only posted 3 times since you've been together?

Yoongi: How do you know that?

Yoongi: Hello?

Namjoon: I really liked the post she made today with your photo 😂

Hoseok: i liked it too, i was the first like 😌😌

Tae: Hyung, you live on Instagram right?

Hoseok: lies

Hoseok: hope out, I'll go get ready for tonight 🥵

Yoongi: It's a good photo, it's true

Yoongi: I'm going to share it. Hoba, how do I do that?

Namjoon: I'll explain you, but Yoongi we have to do something before that

Hoseok: nono, I'll explain him 😭😭

____'s phone hadn't stopped ringing for the past 7 minutes, not letting her music play in peace, and she didn't understand why. With a groan, she finally got out of the shower and walked over to where she had left her phone, grabbed it and couldn't believe her eyes.

Shit.

"Min Yoongi, what the fuck?" She came out into the room naked with her hair wet with drops falling from it and her body. "When I told you to get distracted on Instagram, I didn't mean this," she showed him the notifications that kept coming.

Yoongi was lying down with a grin on his lips as he watched her closely. "Don't worry, I took all precautions."

"Just yesterday I taught you how to upload a story, and now you do this?!" She said, still unable to believe it. She was overwhelmed, she had only two Instagram notifications informing her that agustd had shared her post and that she had 3 new special followers, and hundreds of messages from family and friends who knew nothing about her relationship and how she even knew him.

Both had officially been together for 11 months as a couple, 1 and a half years as "friends with benefits", and 2 and a half years of knowing each other. She trusted him fully, she knew his friends and a bit of his family. She also knew about his work and how things worked there, god help who is linked to someone as famous as 'Suga'.

To Y/n, Yoongi was just someone low-key dude, sometimes grumpy, but very shy and caring when they're in private. And sometimes a little shit.

From the first moment, she accepted that no one from the outside could know about them, that was fine with her. A girl from another country who did not meet Korean beauty standards and who struggled every day to speak Korean fluently without getting confused with some words. She accepted it, and he loved her just like that. She knew that Yoongi would one day announce that they were together -if they were still together, of course. Hopefully-, she just imagined that it would be something planned by both of them. Or with a warning.

"I made your account private so no one can follow you without your approval or see your posts, and I also limited your comments just in case."

"Did you do all that while I was taking a shower?"

"Namjoon and Hobi explained it to me." He shrugged like it was no big deal. "Besides, your account was already on my phone and I love you."

"I- uh..."

Yoongi walked over to her and took her in her arms, slowly kissing her lips as he sat her on the bed next to him.

"I think it's about time the world knows that I'm in love and finally completely happy with the woman of my life."

Oh, that was okay with her. So okay.

It was already night, and they were both in bed ready to sleep after a fun dinner with their friends. Y/n was reading her book when she caught a glimpse of Yoongi frowning, looking at his phone.

"Everything's okay?" She asked him, quietly lowering the book to direct all her attention to her boyfriend.

"This bite me in the ass," he complained under his breath. "What the fuck-"

"Love?"

"I should've never shared that photo." He let out an irritated sigh, then laughed. Y/n watched him, still not understanding.

"I don't understand, and you're not helping me." She moved to be at his level and look at his phone with him. "Oh..."

"They made me a fucking meme! The guys haven't stopped sending all the photos they find to the group chat."

"It's a worldwide trend and a meme on all social networks." She laughed after checking her apps. "Oh, you have to check Twitter, there are the best!" She let out a loud laugh.

"Love," he growled. "It's not even funny. I'm just squatting." He excused himself. He looked at Y/n who was chuckling, still looking at her phone. In a quick movement, he took it out of her hands and left it on the side of the bed.

"Hey! I was watching that…" She spoke, biting her lip to keep from laughing.

"Enough of that shit, I want to have fun now myself," he said, then grabbed her feet and dragged her a little further to the middle of the bed to climb on top of her and then pull his shirt off of him.

"Yoongi…" she laughed as she cupped his face in her hands. They both looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds.

"You do know that sharing that photo wasn't an official announcement of our relationship, right?" She nodded. "We'll do that tomorrow, together." She smiled at him to kiss him. "I love you, I truly love you."

[witchybiitchy]

c'est ça l'amour | l.n

fic masterlist

chapter 4

Monaco was the event of the year. For most drivers, it meant coming home, or at least partying like they were. The press, the celebrities, the race, the ante seemed to be upped on everything here. For Sydney, however, it was a bit of a nightmare. She was forced into uncomfortable dresses and shoes and paraded around like a show pony. The only woman in F1 had come to Monaco, much prettier and more interesting than the circus. It was the Tuesday of race week, and Sydney was just getting the back of her silk dress tied up for a dinner that would be attended by all the drivers and various other people that got invited to these sorts of things. She was eyeing the pair of shoes in the corner that she would need to walk in, and inwardly groaned to herself. She wouldn’t openly complain (well, maybe to Pierre), but she was dreading the event already.

She was getting her hair fluffed around and it felt so nice that she could’ve fallen asleep, but it was only 6:30 and she still had a long night ahead of her. The day had been full of press, photos, race briefs, and everything else under the sun, and she just wanted to eat her dinner and fall asleep. At least there would be booze. 

“Can I come in?” She heard Pierre call from outside the door. 

“Sure. I am almost done.” Sydney said back, voice raised. Pierre entered the room, his black suit jacket and slightly unbuttoned white shirt contrasting with his tanned skin. They would make a good pair with her black silky midi dress. Actually, now that she thought about it, they would probably look like a couple. Might have to talk to Daisy about that, she thought to herself. 

“You actually look like a girl” Pierre laughed.

“Fuck off.” Sydney replied, getting a pat on the shoulder to tell her she was good to go. She padded over to the shoes and took one last look at them before slipping them on. Now the top of her head was level with Pierre’s, instead of his nose. 

“You're not short anymore, it's amazing.” He laughed again, holding out his hand for her to take. 

“Oh thank you, thank you, I would like to thank the acadmey, and,” She trailed off giggling before she could continue, and they headed out to the elevator. Charles and Carlos were also standing there, and Sydney waved at them, releasing Pierre’s hand. 

“Laurent, you are so tall!” Charles joked, and she rolled her eyes but smiled anyway

“I think you will be taller than Lando, non?” Carlos continued. 

“I hope so, it will give me a good excuse to stay sitting down.” Sydney laughed, and the elevator dinged its arrival. 

“What, you mean to tell me that you are not excited? Bah, c’est incroyable.” Pierre said.

“I know, it is a big surprise for all.” Sydney replied. 

“It’s a shame, everyone will want to talk to you the most.” Carlos said. 

“I do not understand why, I cannot say anything very interesting. Yes, I am so grateful to be here, of course I am always aiming for a win, blah blah.” She said, putting on a higher pitched voice.

“Landoooooo.” Carlos said as the elevator doors opened once more and in stepped Lando. He looked hot, too. 

“What’s up?” He said in return, doing the macho hand-grab-pat-on-the-back combo that all men had to do instead of hugging each other. Luckily the exchange was only between him and Carlos, because it was always awkward when the person circulating would get to her and hesitate, not knowing if the greeting was suitable for a woman. Usually they would just kiss her on the cheek instead, which she was never opposed to. 

“I don’t know if I should get drunk tonight,” Carlos began. “Surely three days is long enough to recover for quali.” Everyone nodded their heads in agreement. 

“I feel like I will become drunk by accident, because I always, euh, take, euh, fuck, how do I say sip?” Sydney said, turning to Pierre while the rest chuckled. 

“Sip.” he replied, grinning. 

“Ah, okay, I just sip, but whenever I look over my drink is full again, so I just keep, euh, sipping, and then boom I am drunk.” The boys laughed again, but this time with a sort of knowing look about them. “What?” She asked incredulously. 

“You just look too good Syd, all the desperate men buy you drinks.” Charles said, poking her on the arm.

“Why do they have to be desperate, huh?” She asked, smiling. Before Charles could reply, they were at the ground floor and filed out into respective team cars. 

There wasn’t a red carpet as such, but there was a long entryway into the hotel that the function was at, and Sydney felt Pierre’s hand on the small of her back as they walked in front of the cameras. They walked fairly slowly and smiled the whole time, and by the time they were inside Sydney’s feet were already hurting.

“Fuck, these heels are seriously shitty.” She complained, and Pierre just laughed. 

“If desperate men buy you drinks the whole night then you won't need to walk.” Sydney rolled her eyes and sat down at their allocated table, already half full with AlphaTauri team members. There would probably be a few mind numbing speeches and then several hours of talking, and she could already feel her soul draining out of her feet, which she’d already slipped out of her shoes and rested on Pierre’s lap under the table cloth. He grinned at her and she felt him rest his hand on her shin. 

The night dragged on in 15 minutes increments. For the first hour and a half she kept grabbing Pierre’s hand to check the time, but after that they somehow ended up in two very different circles; him chatting to some very good looking, female journalists, her surrounded by men who’s jobs she couldn’t remember. Also subjected to their conversation was Lando, and despite their matching smiles and laughs, Sydney could tell he wasn’t enjoying this either. At a lull in conversation, she managed to make eye contact with him and subtly nod her head towards the door. They hadn’t ever really spoken, but the alcohol in her system made her think that tonight was the night. She wasn’t drunk, but she was definitely tipsy enough to be losing her grasp on English. 

Lando made their excuses and put his hand on her back in a similar fashion to Pierre, except this time Sydney felt as if she couldn’t move too suddenly or he’d retract it, and she definitely didn’t want that. 

“Did you even know what those guys did?” Lando said, plonking down on one of the lobby couches. Sydney sat next to him, already missing the human touch, and slid her shoes off once more to rest her feet on the coffee table. For someone who didn’t enjoy spending time with that many people, she really did enjoy their closeness on the sofa. It was nearing midnight, so the entrance was essentially empty except for a lone receptionist. 

“No idea. One of them was a little bit good looking, but the others were so ugly, so what was even the purpose?” Lando chuckled and shuffled to face her a bit more. 

“Most people say, ‘the point’.” He said. 

“Huh?” Sydney replied, confused. 

“Just then, you said, what was the purpose, but most people would say, what was the point.” His eyes seemed glazed from the alcohol, and Sydney was sure hers were too as she looked into them.

“Are you an English teacher now?” She said, keeping a joking tone even though she was a little bit offended. It was like he could read right through her, because he backtracked apologetically. 

“No, I only meant, like, I’ve heard you talk about not thinking you’re very good at English, and, I dunno, I shouldn’t have corrected you.” Lando said, and shifted away from her. The movement was barely noticeable, but something inside Sydney needed it to be reversed immediately. 

“It is okay, Norris, I just do not like, euh, people who, euh, fuck, not right now.” Her tispy brain was short circuiting, but Lando’s curious eyes weren’t judgmental. 

“Say it in French, I’ll work backwards.” He smiled softly. 

“People who, euh, are condescending.” She said slowly, looking at him for approval.

“People who’re condescending, I think.” He said. “Like, they treat you like you’re not as smart as you really are.”

“Yes, bon travail Lando.” They both smiled and were silent, until Lando remembered that she was probably waiting for a reply. 

“I don’t think anyone likes condescending people.” He said, fiddling with his little bracelet that peeked out from his shirt cuffs. She hadn’t noticed him put his feet up on the coffee table too, but there they were.

“Especially people like Maze-pine.” She grinned, not knowing why she already felt comfortable to bad mouth other drivers when she barely even did it around Charles. 

“That was really shitty, what he said I mean.” Lando looked up again, and Sydney was once again surprised by how she felt when he gazed at her. She couldn’t name it, but it was good.

“It is my fault, really. I do not make a, fuck, I can't think.” Instead of looking annoyed, Lando just smiled encouragingly. “A big effort to, euh, talk to people other than Pierre and Charles. Even Esteban, and he speaks French. I am ridiculous.”

“Didn’t you speak much English growing up?”

“No, mes parents did not speak it. They spoke Italian and Spanish, but not English. If only one of them had the language we utilise, I would be fine.” The couch was soft beneath her, and she felt French slipping through the cracks but couldn’t be bothered to correct herself. Something about speaking to Lando made her feel like she didn’t need to be perfect, even if she’d never really spoken to him before. 

“Then you shouldn’t feel bad about it. Isn’t it like, after the age of 13 it’s way way harder to become fluent?” Lando said. 

“Oh, fuck, probably. I don't know.” By now they had both been sinking further into the couch and were leaning their heads back on the top of the cushions, and Sydney turned her head to find Lando blinking lazily at her. 

“Maybe I could help.” He said. They were barely above whispering now. 

“But why?” Sydney saw his face fall, and went to correct herself. “Surely you would rather spend time with your friends.” 

“Aren’t we friends?” He grinned. Sydney returned the smile, and they returned to silence. 

“My little cauliflower, we were looking for you!” Pierre’s voice echoed across the room, but it wasn’t out of place amongst the bustling group of drivers and various girls, some of which seemed familiar. 

"Well, you found me." She grinned and missed the slightly disappointed look on Lando’s face. She hadn’t forgotten his offer though. 

“You two wanna come back to Charles’ place? It was starting to get boring in there.” A very drunk Max Verstappen said, arm wrapped around his girlfriend. 

“Sure, got nothing better to do.” Lando smiled and got met with some friendly rough-housing by Carlos. Sydney felt an arm rest around her, and she looked up to find PIerre smiling down at her. That was when she remembered. 

“Fuck, my shoes, wait, wait.” She said, turning to go back inside. 

“Calm down, Lando's carrying them.” Pierre said, pointing to Lando who was in fact holding her shoes. “He likes you." He said matter-a-factly, and she looked up at him unimpressed. 

“Shut up, he'll hear you.” As she said this, she looked over to see him very much not listening. In fact, without the shoes dangling from his fingers, one might think they had never spoken at all. 

“Ha! It's true!” Pierre said triumphantly. 

“I didn't say that. We were only talking. Nothing more."

“Of course, of course.” Pierre replied, making fun of her. They dropped the topic, and Sydney decided not to think about it more. She’d just decided to talk to someone other than Pierre, it didn’t mean she had a crush.

The drive to Charles’ apartment building was quick, and by the time they got there Sydney felt tiredness in her bones. Despite this, most of the teams were still getting each other revved up, and she could tell it would be several hours before they calmed down. She could go back to the hotel, but she didn’t want to feel like she was missing out on anything. Her and Pierre were some of the last to get there, and she noticed that her shoes had been placed neatly by the front door. It made her stomach twist nicely. 

“Charles, don’t you have beer?” Sydney heard Daniel yell from the kitchen as they entered the living room. She noticed that there was an empty spot next to Lando but didn’t want to give Pierre anything else to work with, so sat instead on an armchair. She sat sideways so that her back leant against one arm with her legs dangling over the over. Pierre sat on the ground in front of her and leant his head back against her thighs. Pierre was a very touchy boy, but Sydney never saw his actions as strange. She was the type to go along with whatever other people were doing. If she was being hugged, she’d hug back. 

“Sydney, you can’t fall asleep yet, we haven’t even played truth or dare yet.” Daniel said, laughing, and ruffled her hair a bit. She hadn’t even realised that she’d been dosing off, chin in palm, until he said something.

“I am not asleep.” She said defiantly, blinking rapidly to try and wake herself up a bit.

“Women need more sleep than men anyway.” Lando said casually before taking a swig of his beer.

“Is that so Dr Norris? Are you a woman expert now?” Carlos said.

“My mum sent me an article.” He replied sheepishly, met with rapturous laughter from the room. Sydney laughed along, but she secretly found it endearing.

“Syd, if you really want to sleep, you can use the spare room.” Charles said, crouching down to her eye level in the middle of walking back from the kitchen with another beer.

“I'm fine, but thank you.” She replied smiling. The conversation continued on, with Sydney contributing every once in a while. She’d stopped drifting off, but someone had kept putting fresh drinks in her hand and she was slowly descending into drunkenness. They were now talking about their love lives, with the boys who had new girls on their laps choosing not to say much. 

“Sydney, you have a boyfriend?” Carlos asked.

“No, but I would like one for sure.” She said, her words barely intelligible as her accent grew thicker. “He would have to be a trophy husband though, I am a very needy woman so he cannot work during the season.” Everyone laughed. 

“Maybe you’ll just have to date a driver then.” Max said cheekily, the alcohol taking away his filter. 

“Mm, I think that an engineer has more brain.” Sydney said, gesturing wildly. 

“So you like smart guys?” Daniel said. She could tell he was trying to lure her down a certain path, but she had no issues with taking the bait. She hadn’t had a boyfriend since she dated a fellow F4 driver when she was 16 who was now at university studying economics, and she hadn’t had sex since signing with AlphaTauri. 

“I like,” she adjusted her position so that she was sitting on the chair properly, Pierre laughing as he moved out of the way. “I like smart guys who seem a little bit stupid, because they are usually not so, euh, they are not snobs. I do not care if I am not as smart as them, but they just cannot be mean about it.” She said, taking a sip from her bottle. 

“Yeah, what else?” Carlos laughed. He could tell that this was something she enjoyed talking about. 

“My perfect man is,” Pierre nudged her leg.

“You are speaking French.” He laughed.

“Oh, I must be really drunk then.” She joked. “I like, well, I do not really care how tall he is, just not pixie sized. And he has to be at least a bit attractive, because I am not bad looking and so I think that I deserve someone to match, non?” She was eating up the laughs from the boys and girls alike.

“And he just has to be, euh, good at something. It does not matter what it is, but he has to have something that he is good at, because that is very attractive. And maybe also have a good car, because then I know that we are on the same page.” She sat back in the armchair once she was done with her little rant. 

“That isn’t very specific, Sydney.” George said from an opposite couch. 

“I am easy to please.” She shrugged. 

“You just said you were needy.” Daniel semi-yelled. 

“Pff, I do not know. I will not be finding a man in the close future, so it does not matter, non?” The conversation broke away into several little ones after that, and she found her eyes growing heavy again. Pierre was talking to Esteban, so she didn’t have anything to keep her awake, and before she knew it her head had lolled back onto the armchair. 

“I’m gonna head back, should I bring her with me?” Sydney heard the words but hadn’t really processed them, still somewhat asleep. 

“Probably, she will be annoyed if you don’t.” That was definitely Pierre. She heard someone saying her name, and then a tapping finger on her shoulder. She rubbed her eyes before blinking them open, being met with Lando’s eyes looking down at her over the back of the armchair. 

“You wanna go?” He asked, and she nodded. She gave Pierre a hug and waved to everyone else, most of them still seeming lively for the late hour. She padded towards the front door and remembered to take her shoes with her this time. She couldn’t be bothered putting them back on though, and they hung from her fingers in a similar fashion to how they’d hung from Lando’s.They’d made it halfway down the hall before he spoke. 

“Are you usually this tired?” A soft smile still sat on his face.

“After a party? Yes.” As if on cue, she yawned. “Talking to that many people makes me tired.”

“Oh.” Lando said, smiling dropping slightly. 

“You, you are okay. You can keep talking.” Without realising, she’d reached out to pat the back of his shoulder and leant into his side in doing so. She liked the feeling, so she slid her arm around his waist and stayed there. When she felt his arm circle her shoulders, her stomach jumped up in her body.

“Good, I like talking to you.” She felt his nose on the crown of her head as they stopped in front of the elevator, and she smiled wider. 

“Why did you not have a girl?” She asked quietly. Not out of fear of the answer, but in not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere. 

“Hmm?” He hummed, and she felt travel through her body from the top of her head. 

“Daniel, Esteban, Carlos, they all had girls. You did not.” He moved away from her as they entered the elevator, and she missed the contact but didn’t try and reinitiate it. She seemed to be more lucid after feeling what it was like in his arms. 

“Neither did Pierre.” He pointed out, pressing the ground floor button. 

“Hmm, I guess not.” She replied. 

“Are you two, um, you know.” He began, but Sydney couldn’t really tell where he was going with it. 

“What?” He smiled at her cluelessness before answering.

“You know, going out.” She thought about it, but didn’t really know what he meant. 

“You mean like, at night?” He laughed, which only made her more confused. 

“No, like, dating.” He replied. 

“Oh, no, we are very close friends, but we do not feel like that for each other.” She was cringing at her phrasing before it even left her mouth, but she just needed him to know.

“Would now be a good time to correct you?” He asked as they walked through the lobby.

“If you would like.” She smiled. 

“We don’t feel that way about each other.” He said, hailing a taxi. 

“I will keep that in mind for the next time.” She said. 

“You should, I’m surprised more people don’t ask you about it.”

“Why?” They were both seated, and Lando gave the driver directions. 

“You two act like a couple, you know that, right?” He said.

“Well, pff, I don't know, that is just our friendship.” She answered.

“I hope Pierre knows that.” He replied, and they stayed in silence and Sydney thought about what he could mean.

[triptuckers]

Fix her - Kaz Brekker

Request: nope Pairing:  kaz brekker x reader Summary:  kaz sent you out to gather information, and you always return on time with the intel he needs. well, maybe not always. Warnings: angst, language, mentions of BLOOD, BRUISES, INJURIES, typical soc stuff, slight six of crows and crooked kingdom spoilers Word count:  2.2K A/N: hello my darlings it is I and I have read almost every book leigh bardugo has written in the past month. I am now hopelessly in love with jesper, kaz and nikolai. I'll be updating my character list soon! I still have a few wips but I don’t have any motivation / inspiration for those. so have my first kaz brekker x reader instead! enjoy reading :)

It was a rather easy job, really. Kaz had received word that the Dime Lions had an important meeting coming up. Because he always wanted to know what exactly was going on in the Barrel and with its gangs, he wanted someone to listen in on said meeting.

Normally, he would send Inej. She was the obvious choice when it came to gathering information. But she was still recovering from a rather nasty cut in her side, and so you had offered to go.

Inej insisted she could go. But all it took was you raising your eyebrows when she moved to sit up, only to wince and flop back down onto the bed. Though he didn’t quite like it, Kaz had assigned you to the job. 

No one said it out loud, but everyone knew there was something between you and Kaz. Neither of you had spoken about it. There were just a lot of lingering glances, smiles from you and what you think was almost a smile from Kaz, and you even had stolen his coat once when you had lost your own. He didn’t seem to mind though.

When you had left that evening to listen to the Dime Lions meeting from the shadows, Kaz had sent you a look that you knew all too well. He reserved it only for you. It was him telling you to be safe. You’d respond with a wink that basically meant always am.

The rest of the crows started a card game to pass the time as they waited for you to come back. They didn’t worry, you were always careful and are considered one of the most dangerous criminals in Ketterdam. They knew whatever happened, you could handle yourself.

But after Jesper had lost four rounds of card games, the tension began to rise between them. Most meetings typically didn’t last this long. Still, no one said anything as they started their fifth game. You would show up eventually, probably bringing valuable insight with you.

After two more games, there was still no sign of you. Nina was the first one to speak up.

‘She should have been back by now.’ she says, absently looking out the window into the dark street. 

‘Have a little faith, Zenik.’ says Kaz, though on the inside he was filled with worry. He shook it off and focused on the game again.

More than once he’d scolded himself for allowing you to get this close to him. For putting so much trust in you, especially after what happened the last time he’d really trusted someone. But he couldn’t help it. It was like he was drawn to you like Jespers trigger finger was to his revolvers. He couldn’t help it.

Still, he knew your skills. He knew you were smart, and a fighter. Whatever was going on with you out there, he had no doubt you’d show up at the door in a few moments, cheerfully announcing what good intel you’d gathered and wondering how many card games you’d missed.

But you still didn’t show. And one by one, they all lost their interest in the card game. They fell silent and looked out the window or fiddled with their empty glasses. The tension in the room grew. Until Kaz suddenly stood.

‘Finish the game.’ he says. ‘I’ll go and look for her.’

‘I’ll come with you.’ says Jesper, getting up as well.

‘No.’ says Kaz, earning a frown from Jesper. ‘Just me.’ he says. And with that, he pulled on his coat, grabbed his cane and was out the door.

‘Right.’ says Jesper, sitting back down. ‘Anyone fancy another game? I have a feeling I’m gonna win this one.’

They played three more games. They were tired, and it was well past midnight. Still, none of them went upstairs to their rooms. Too anxious to play any more cards or to even have a normal conversation, they settled for silence and more drinks. 

Jesper was fiddling with his rings and bouncing his leg. Nina had her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. Matthias was trying to not look at Nina. And Wylan was attempting to build a house out of the cards. 

Finally, they heard the sound of the door opening. All of their heads shot up and turned to look who it was. 

Kaz stumbles awkwardly through the door, carrying you in his arms. Nina gasps softly and Jesper murmurs ‘Saints’ as their eyes land on your body. 

It’s bruised and bloody, and your eyes are shut. Was Kaz too late?

‘Clear the table!’ says Kaz loudly, limping toward it with you in his arms. 

Instantly, Matthias and Jesper seize the glasses and cards off the table as Wylan pulls some of the chairs back to make room. Kaz lays your beaten up body on the table and turns to Nina.

‘Help her.’ says Kaz.

But Nina is looking at you body, bruised and bloodied, nothing like the cheerful girl that buys her waffles and laughs as she teases Matthias. It’s almost impossible to find a spot on your body that doesn’t have a wound on it. There’s slashes from knives everywhere, bruising around your neck and the side of your face, and to top it off, blood is slowly leaking out of a bullet wound in your leg.

An expression of horror is written across Nina’s face, her hands pressed against her mouth. 

‘Nina.’ Kaz presses on. ‘I said help her.’

‘Kaz, I don’t think-’ stammers Nina. ‘Come on, fix her!’ says Kaz loudly, surprised of how much anxiety can be heard in his voice. Fix her, he thinks, because I need her to fix me.

‘I can try but-’ ‘Do it.’ says Kaz and then he turns away, he can’t bear to look at you any longer. Memories of Jordie flood over him, mingled with memories of you. Your laugh, how he fights his own smile every time you wink at him or send a flirty comment his way, the way you smell. How you look at him when he catches your eyes. 

Kaz shuts his eyes, attempting to drown the memories out. Taking deep breaths, he tries to focus on the voices behind him.

‘Jesper get the bullet out of her leg.’ says Nina. 

‘Just pull it out?’ questions Jesper.

‘Saints, you’re Grisha, Jesper, pull the fucking bullet out!’ says Nina in a loud voice laced with fear.

After a while of listening to Nina’s murmuring and instructions to others, Kaz finally turns back around to look at you. A wave of nausea hits him unexpectedly and he swallows hard. 

Nina had treated most of the wounds, with Jesper’s help. But your entire body is still covered in bruises, and now bandages as well. Nina’s cleaned the dried blood off of your face, but your arms and legs are still covered with it. 

They’re all nervously looking at Kaz.

‘I don’t know if she’s going to-’

‘Don’t.’ says Kaz, interrupting her. He needed to think straight. He needed someone to help him focus. Normally, you’d be the one to do so. But you’re in no condition to softly talk to him to reassure him everything is going to be alright. He needed to be his own soothing voice tonight.

‘Matthias.’ he says. ‘Bring her up to my room. Nina, go with him, see if there’s anything else you can do for her. Jesper, get Inej up to speed. Wylan, clean this mess up before someone notices.’

Without waiting for their reactions, Kaz walks up the stairs to his floor. Several moments later, followed by Matthias, who is carrying you, and Nina and Jesper. Jesper disappears into Inej’ room, while Matthias and Nina continue to walk the stairs to get to Kaz’ floor. 

When they arrive, Matthias carefully places you on Kaz’ bed as he was instructed. For a while, the three of them look at you. Until Matthias and Nina go to their rooms as well, leaving Kaz alone with you.

None of them had questioned why he insisted Matthias brought you to his room and not your own. Of course, they were dying to find out exactly what was going on between you and Kaz, but they all knew tonight was not the night to push him.

As he looks at you, Kaz feels the strong urge to touch you. Lay his hand on your cheek, to see if it’s still warm. But he can’t. Instead, he merely pulls out a chair and sits down next to the bed. He lets his eyes travel over your body, wondering how much pain you’re in, and who the hell was responsible for it. 

He needed you to wake up. He needed you to tell him who did this so he could send his biggest most muscular members of the Dregs to them. Kaz wanted them to hurt the way they had hurt you. 

His mind is running at an alarming speed. But eventually, even Kaz can’t fight his tired body anymore, and he falls asleep in an uncomfortable position in his chair.

From that night on, he instructed that you shouldn’t be left alone. He doesn’t want you to wake up and realise you’re on your own. The next day, it’s business as usual. The members of the Dregs are coming and going like they always do. The familiar flow of people helps to take everyone’s mind off things, but as soon as they’re by your side, they remember. 

Nina had tried her best to heal you, but it still took you almost a week to wake up.

When you wake up, your first thought is that your entire body feels way heavier than it’s supposed to. You try to open your eyes but it’s like your eyelids are made of lead. After a couple more tries, you finally open them.

You take in the room, and realise it’s not your own. Kaz. 

Why would you be in Kaz’ room? Why aren’t you in your own room? And why does your body feel so damn heavy?

And then all of the memories flood back. Like a tsunami, they catch your breath in your throat, making it hard to breathe. You try to inhale deeply, but it’s like your throat is sealed shut. You start to panic when you notice you can’t breathe. 

Then a pair of hands land on your shoulders and gently push you back onto the bed. Whoever it is, is talking softly to you. You close your eyes and try to steady your breathing. 

Then the voice yells out, but from much farther away, like they’re standing in the doorway, and not next to the bed.

‘Kaz! Nina! Get up here!’

It’s Jesper. 

You try to ask him what’s going on, but it’s still hard to breath normally. You try to focus on something else. Jesper’s voice trying to calm you down, his eyes looking into yours, but nothing’s helping. 

Then you hear a sound you know all too well. A familiar stumbling, of someone walking up the stairs with a cane. 

Seconds later, Kaz rushes into the room and roughly shoves Jesper away, taking his place next to the bed.

‘Who did this to you?’ he says. 

His voice is that familiar rasp, and normally you love it. But now it just makes your head hurt. You shut your eyes and softly shake your head, trying to drown the sound out. 

‘Y/N, who did this to you?’ says Kaz, more firmly this time.

‘Kaz.’ says Nina’s voice. ‘Let her rest. You can talk later.’ Nina’s voice is softer, more gentle than Kaz’. You try to focus on it as you open your eyes again.

Kaz is close. He looks down at you and you’re surprised by the look in his eyes. Was that a hint of worry you detected? You open your mouth to say something, but Kaz is faster.

‘Y/N, tell me who did this to you.’ says Kaz.

‘Couldn’t see their faces.’ you manage to say in a hoarse voice. Your throat feels dry and you start to cough. Immediately, Nina moves to get you a glass of water and helps you to drink it. 

‘Did you notice the way they moved? How they walked? Were they Dime Lions? Could you see any tattoos? What about scars? Clothing? Voices?’

Kaz keeps on firing questions at you, but you can’t focus on his words. Your head feels heavy and you feel your eyelids slowly closing again. 

‘Kaz.’ you say softly. ‘Tomorrow.’ 

You expect him to press on, to find out who did this to you. But instead, he looks at you and holds your gaze. He doesn’t say anything, he merely nods at you. You know what it means. Despite his harsh voice and the million questions, he’s glad you’re safe. And the ones who did this to you will pay for it. He’ll make sure of it.

You offer a weak smile before closing your eyes, already drifting off. You hear two pairs of footsteps leave the room, and assume Nina stayed behind to check on you.

The chair next to you gets moved back and you hear how someone sits down in it. When you feel something brush against your fingers, you assume it’s Nina checking your pulse.

But then you feel a gloved thumb on the back of your hand. It slowly rubs over your skin. To most people it wouldn’t mean anything. But to you, it meant the world. A tiny smile reaches the corners of your mouth, as you fall asleep. 

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Jo

[finelinevogue]

What if a security guard wouldn’t let you back in the arena if you went out to get something. And they didn’t believe that you were harrys gf and just thought you were a crazy fan

oooh it’s been done before but here’s my version!! ;

You were running late.

It was already 7pm and you were only getting out of your car in the car park. Harry was due to be on stage in an hour and you hadn’t even seen him yet. The traffic around Dallas today has been awful. Chocker block. You’d been with Harry all day, up until 3 hours ago when he had to leave the hotel to come to the stadium for rehearsals. Normally you’d go with him, but you were so tired that you wanted a little nap before coming. The problem here was you overslept.

There were no Ubers available and a taxi would be far too expensive at this time, so you drive in Harrys car instead. You’d been following Harry on tour in his car, so when you get to different destinations you can go out on ball day trips if you want to without the obscenity of a huge tour bus or paying for Ubers everywhere. It was the main reason you were so tired though, travelling across country and into different time zones. It would be so much easier if this was the UK.

You grabbed your purse and your jacket, locking the car as you got out and started running for the backstage entrance. It was easy to make it there and you noticed security guards already standing there.

“Hi!” You smiled, slightly short of breathe. You were about to move past them when one of them shoved your shoulder back, making you stumble back unbalanced. “Wha—”

“ID and backstage pass to get through here.” One of them said, looking you up and down as if you were nothing.

If anything, you were quite shocked on how they just treated and continued to treat you. Normally, Harry would show a picture of you to these backstage security guards to make sure you’d be able to get in no problem, but it seemed like today Harry might’ve forgotten to show that photo. This was going to be a problem for you, because you’d forgotten to bring your backstage pass.

“I normally just go through? I’m Harry’s girlfriend.” You tried talking your way around the situation, not appreciating behind held up so close to show-time.

“Oh you’re Harry’s girlfriend? You must be the 7th one we’ve met tonight.” The security guy laughed and so did his friend, making your blood boil with how annoying they were being. Harry would be so pissed if he heard the way they were treating you.

“No but I actually am.”

“Then, ID and backstage passes.” One of then held out his hand whilst the other crossed his arms over his chest to make him look intimidating. Dickheads.

“I have ID just not the backstage passes.” You answered honestly, holding out your ID for them to check. They collected it and asked you questions on it, you answering them all perfectly.

“Well you definitely know you, but you have no proof you’re supposed to be where you claim to be.” They handed you back your ID and you huffed in stress.

“Well what can I show you? Photos of me and Harry together? Text messages?” You waved your arms around, getting really pissed off that this was actually happening. You’d probably miss Jenny’s whole set because of this and then 15 minutes before show-time Harry gets transported under the stage. So you only really would have half and hour with him, and that’s just not enough time. You wanted a safe and warm hug off him. You wanted a kiss. You just wanted him.

“Everyone knows they can be photoshopped.” One of the guys scoffs at your notion.

“Listen. You either show us your backstage pass or we’ll escort you off site.” The other one says a lot more firmer this time. It made you quite anxious for what you’d do if they did that - or maybe when they did that.

“Well I don’t have the backstage passes.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at the way this was going to end.

“Then let’s go.” One of them pointed to where you came from and to the car park, stepping forwards as he did so.

“I’m not leaving until you let me through those doors. My boyfriend is waiting for me.” You answered, taking a step back in stress of what they might do.

“Harry ain’t your boyfriend. Now let’s go!” They stepped forwards again and reached for you.

You swung your bag at one of them, hitting him in his side and he grunted because of the impact of your water bottle with his chest. The other one grabbed your arm and you couldn’t shake him, since you were not trained in any way for situations like this at all. His fingers dig into your skin and it made you scream out a cry, trying to kick him in any way to escape. The other one recovered ever ordered the guy holding you to escort you away whilst he stayed and guarded the door. The one holding you tugged your arms behind your body and held them tight there, it really fucking hurting. He didn’t care though and continued to walk you, asking you where your car was so he could get you out of here.

Once you reached your car he let you go and you wrapped your arms around you as he walked away again, not verbally saying anything but his eyes saying enough. Stay away. You shakily got your keys out of your bags and unlocked your door, climbing in and just sitting there. You could feel your hands really shaky and achy. Looking down with tear clouded eyes, you saw the red marks over your arms and slight bruising already. Your arms and shoulders hurt from being bent in an uncomfortable position.

You cared less about the pain though and how much of a disappointment of a girlfriend you were going to be to Harry. He was going to think either the worst for you or the worst of you. You reached in your bag on your lap for your phone, throwing your bag on the seat next to you afterwards. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your t-shirt and unlocked your phone to text messages, sending Harry a quick text.

To Harry: Are you free to call? x

No response. You sat there for a few minutes in silence, still shook up and teary. That had been a really awful situation to be in and you hated that you were nowhere near Harry to fix it. Your phone vibrated 3 minutes later, finding a text message from Harry. You sighed and felt safe when you saw his icon light up your notifications, knowing he was in contact with you.

From Harry: Of course, you okay? xx

You didn’t open your phone because you didn’t know how to respond. How do you tell him you’re not okay, only 20 minutes before he’s meant to be ready to go on stage? You didn’t want to worry him, but you also didn’t want him thinking you were a terrible girlfriend either.

Another vibration.

From Harry: Lovie? xx

Your eyes watered at that simple word, meaning so much more to you than five letters. It made you feel so much comfort, you only wished you could get that hug and a kiss now.

Again.

From Harry: Love, you’re worrying me now.

From Harry: Let me face-time you, hang on.

His icon lit up the screen; Incoming…

You shakily accepted, wiping your eyes quickly before. When he answered you could tell he was still in his dressing room, sat on the sofa that you wish you were also sat on with him. He looked so beautiful. His hair was perfectly styled and he was wearing a pearl coloured silk shirt and you knew he was wearing white silk pants to co-ordinate. You thought he looked ethereal. A glowing beacon of hope and beauty.

He didn’t say anything to you at first and you nothing to him. He just looked at you and instantly knew something bad was up. He kept eye contact with you and it was as if he was having a telepathic conversation with you, understanding that you needed him and just him.

“Hey, Mitch man?” Harry asked, turning his head to somewhere else in the room. “Could y’just give me a minute. Please.”

“Sure, sure.” Mitch answered and all you could hear was the sound of shuffling and the door shut. As soon as he was gone you started crying all over again. You cupped your hand over your eyes and your body shook as you just cried. Harrys heart broke that you were alone and he couldn’t hug you close to his chest.

“Y/N, baby. Look at me.” He asked urgently and you just shook your head, embarrassed that this was happening to you. “You’ll be alright lovie, I promise. Just look at me, beautiful.” You moved your hand away from your face and wiped your eyes and nose to try and make you look slightly better - not that it helped. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You smiled. He smiled.

“I-i’m so-rry H.” You whispered, sniffling in between words because of how shaky you felt.

“Hey, no. None of that. It’ll be okay.” He reassured you, keeping eye contact with you to try and decipher what was wrong. “Where are you, lovie? You’re in the car, yeah?” Harry asked, recognising your surroundings but you could get anywhere. You could have been in an accident for all he knew, but he was remaining calm so he didn’t send you into a panic.

“Yeah. In the stadium car park.” You saw Harrys eyes momentarily light up at that, before he remembered that you weren’t okay.

“Okay. Tell me why you’re upset, love. Help me understand.” He sounded urgent, just wanting to know so he could help you out. He wanted you to be okay. He wanted you with him.

“The security guards wouldn’t let me in, backstage I mean. I didn’t have my backstage pass. But..” You choked on a sob and Harry told you to just breathe. You were okay. “One of them g-grabbed me and escorted m-me of sight.”

“Baby, are you hurt? Is that why you’re upset?” Harry asked, standing up now in panic. His face looked angry, but you could tell he was trying his best to be a comfort for you. “Y/N?”

“Y-yes. Yes Harry, yes.” You voice wobbled out and you let out an exasperated sob. “I’m s-sor—”

“No don’t you dare. Don’t apologise for this. Not ever. You understand me?” He made very clear he wasn’t messing around.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Alright. Now, you gotta be strong for me okay?” He asked, before asking, still checking that you were okay. He knew you would be though, because you were his bravest girl ever - stronger than you knew.

“Okay.”

“You’re going to make your way back to the backstage entrance, alright? I am going to be there, before you get there. Those security guards won’t be there I promise. You’ll be okay. Can you do that for me?” He asked, moving around the room and then out of the door. He was walking down the corridors, ignoring the people shouting his name. He was only focused on you.

“Yes. Okay.” You nodded, wiping under your nose again.

“I love you.” He kissed the camera of his phone, looking like he was kissing you instead.

You returned the gesture, kissing him virtually back. “I love you.”

He told you that it’d be alright and then ended the call, explaining how you didn’t need to hear him get angry when he found these security guards. They would be fired even if they weren’t on his tour crew, he’d make sure of it. You made your way back to the backstage entrance again, slowing down before you rounded the corner. Taking a deep breathe you walked around and were met with exactly what Harry promised; him.

You smiled and broke out into a run to get to him, your bag weighing on your shoulder. Once you reached him your bag was thrown on the floor in front of him and you jumped into his arms. He lifted you up to sit you around his waist, keeping his arms tight around your waist and squeezing the biggest hug out of you. Your arms tightened around your boyfriends neck and you buried your face into his neck, and god he smelt like everything homely and sweet. He felt just like home.

“See, you’re alright now lovie.” He assured you, kissing your cheek that wasn’t quite buried into his neck.

“Th-ank you.” You muttered, kissing his neck in appreciation which made him hum in delight. He tasted so hot and lush. He was insatiable. You then felt him start kissing your arms, where the harsh red and purple marks were.

“Sorry y’had to go through this.” He kept kissing your arms, until you moved your head up and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“If I can’t say sorry, then neither can you.” You shook your head, kissing his nose softly. You watched his eyes flutter close and felt so special that only you could do that to him.

“You’re so amazing Y/N. Truly.”

“You’re pretty special too, my love.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else from you, those words were enough, so he pressed his lips to yours softly, filling you with the love you’d been waiting to feel all day. You smiled into the kiss and he just felt so amazing. He was so soft and gentle with you - as smooth as the silk that dressed his body. He was so pretty to watch melt away under your spell and delicious tasting. Strawberries, was that?

He was everywhere. He was everything. He always would be.

[caramelcal]

it should be us

ahhh! hope you guys are doing good bbys

mentions of cheating, drugs etc. 

"I just don't think this person's right for you, you should date someone better, someone who gets you, someone like-" "You?"

you can find the rest of the prompts here.

The sophomore sleepover was something that honestly, y/n didn’t want to attend. It was filled with cringy dancing from the largest part of the student body, glow sticks, and party games. It felt more like a kid’s birthday party than something that the late-teens were supposed to enjoy.

Or, again, maybe it was just her. Everyone else seemed to be having a great time, especially her boyfriend and his female ‘friend’ that seemed to be quite cozy. He barely paid any attention to his own girlfriend and preferred spending time with the more preppy girl that had grabbed his attention ever since she joined their school.

Maybe that’s why she was getting stoned in the shower room with Marcus. It took her mind off of her boyfriend briefly, but it was almost as if she could hear the girl’s irritating squeals of happiness bouncing off of the walls.

“Surprised to see you here, not going to lie n/n,” Marcus mentioned, sitting beside the teenage girl with his back against the tiles of the shower room. Thankfully, it seemed like no one else was in here, or planning on coming in here any time soon, leaving the two teenagers to get high to ignore the whole fiasco.

“Yeah,” She grumbled, rolling her eyes as her boyfriend popped back into her head, “Scott dragged me here.”

Marcus scoffed, letting his head rest on the tiles behind him as annoyance bubbled inside of him at the thought of his best friend’s boyfriend. It was typical of him to drag y/n somewhere she didn’t want to go, only to leave her stranded there as he went off with another girl or his friends.

He didn’t care about y/n, he never had, not properly anyway. She was arm candy for him, just because she was a pretty face. They barely hung out by themselves, and he didn’t care enough to get to know his own girlfriend well enough.

The truth about Scott was that he hated Marcus. Marcus imposed a threat to Scott’s relationship with y/n. He, admittedly, wasn’t blind to Scott’s antics and tried desperately to get y/n to listen to them, to explain that Scott didn’t actually want her, he only wanted to use her. It was true, Scott knew that, but he didn’t want her knowing that.

“Why am I not fucking surprised?”

The girl simply sighed in return. She couldn’t stick up for Scott, she wouldn’t know how to when all Marcus ever made was good and logical points. Scott wasn’t a great boyfriend to y/n, but he wasn’t bad either. He was nice to have around sometimes, just for the company, even if they didn’t talk. “Where is he now then? If he dragged you here shouldn’t he at least try and spend some time with you?” Marcus asked the girl, not even bothering to turn and look at her as he spoke, eyes staring straight ahead and voice filled with anger.

The girl mumbled something under her breath, looking down at her lap shyly but it certainly caught Marcus’ attention. His head turned to the side, a piece of his hair falling over one of his eyes before he spoke, “What was that?”

Her lips parted a little while she lightly shook her head, tucking some of her hair behind her ear, “He’s with Cass.”

“Cassidy? Seriously? What a fuckboy I swear.”

“He’s not fucking her, Marcus!” The girl countered lamely, shaking her head in protest to her best friend’s claims.

He shifted around until he was sitting right in front of her, face-to-face with the girl he had been friends with since the fourth grade. His legs were crossed over one another, white trainers sitting under his knees as he leaned forward to look her right in the eyes.

When he spoke again, he spoke lowly almost as if speaking quietly was going to spare her the shame that came with his words, “So you’re saying that you would bet me a hundred bucks confidently that he hasn’t fucked her in one of the classrooms tonight?”

It was harsh. Marcus knew that, especially when it was directed towards his own best friend. He didn’t normally care about people’s feelings particularly, normally too out of it to even care if he ran their cat over with his motorcycle but he cared deeply for y/n. He didn’t want to hurt her feelings but it seemed like the only way to actually get her to listen to him about Scott.

After a few moments of silence, Marcus sighed. He knew that she was embarrassed and felt overly criticized but he just wanted her to realize how trapped she was.

“I just don’t get it y/n. I just don’t think Scott’s right for you. You deserve someone better, someone who gets you, someone like-” Marcus rambled on, not even realizing what he was saying. The words of frustration flying out of his mouth like he didn’t have a filter.

“You?”

Silence filled the room, her e/c eyes coming up to meet his dark ones. He swallowed back the thickness in his throat, finally coming to realization with what he had said. He had loved her for so long, he loved everything about her. Her quirks, her smiles, her bed head, how she rages at video games; everything.

He had always been so scared to tell her, he thought that it would be the worse day in his life if it ever got out. He thought that he would never recover from the humiliation of his confession but right now he felt no fear. He wasn’t scared.

“Yeah, y/n. I think you deserve someone like me.”

Her eyes searched his before she quickly jumped forward, lips smashing onto his and arms wrapping around his neck. He wasn’t able to catch them, too enraptured on the feeling of her lips against his as they fell to the ground. She was on top of him, his body against the slightly damp floor of the shower room but he didn’t care.

He would stay there forever if it meant that she could be there with him.