#its more of a tragedy than my grade in math

[dustykneed]

i think theyre incredibly silly !! but also from a character design/shape language perspective the triumvirate is so terrific i keep nerding out whenever someone makes them Shaped as god intended.

on the other hand my last midterms are tmr and i need something to keep me occupied after so by all means if yall have anything (if its tos spones mckirk or mcspirk rest assured that i WILL do it 100% bc im totally so sane abt then you see) youd like to see me scribble out in notes app feel free to send in an ask etc! ill do my best lmao

[shimmerwindow]

I Never Really

Part Ten

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: Alcohol use, smut (18+)

Sexual Content: Car sex, spanking, creampie as always

Playlist | Masterlist

Tag list: @jazzyfigz @dont-go-home-without-me @poochiesworld @stardustcatcher @83rkblogs @jaketsguitar @dannys-dream @gretavanfan @do-it-jakey-baby @gvfpal @ignite-my-fire

Every class with Sam was becoming more and more difficult to sit through. You had a ritual now that avoided having to see each other outside of class, where your last half of the class would be silently exchanging your notes on the project. It’d been this way for a week or two now, maybe more or maybe less, the days were blurring together. You weren’t even sure what day of the week it was anymore, letting your feet carry you to your classes on pure muscle memory.

You’d been sure to close the roof door behind you every night since the last encounter. In all honesty to yourself, you didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. You loved him, you were in too deep to not admit that to yourself at this point. But you would do nothing with those feelings, and wait for them to fade.

Every day, though, the feeling would come back all the same. He was your first thought every morning, that beautiful face plaguing your every move. Any time you heard his name, or even something that sounded like his name, you would perk up. Even walking past the guitar shop in town was difficult at this point, ever since you saw him there through the windows.

You walked out of class behind him, watching the way his pants swished around his ankles. You heard his voice.

“Hey!” In the same tone he would use to greet you. Back when you were both always happy to see each other.

There was a girl waiting at the door for him. Your blood ran ice cold, your heart feeling like it stopped in your chest for a moment. You couldn’t look at her any more than the brief glance you’d gotten. You didn’t even say goodbye to Sam as you sped away, upping your pace so you wouldn’t hear whatever he was going to say to her.

“Tonight? I’ll be around.”

You cursed him, cursed that voice of his, cursed that accent you could pick out above even the most deafening crowd. You didn’t want to hear those words.

Things felt emptier now as you braced yourself against the frigid mid-November air, the anxious waiting period between fall and winter upon the Earth. It was a time where it seemed like everything was holding its breath. Every tree clung to the last of its leaves, every squirrel buried the last of its acorns. And you, trying to bury the last of your love for Sammy, holding your breath that the tide may change and he would come around. He never would, and you knew that. You’d gotten so close, two lines fated to approach but never quite cross, like one of those math equations, the graphs, what were they called? You didn’t particularly care to remember.

Your grades had started to slip. A perfect GPA became just slightly below perfect, a tragedy in your education-obsessed mind. Though, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to give a shit when you turned in assignments half-assed and late. It just wasn’t all that important to you. You felt your phone buzz against your hand in your pocket. A text from Jake.

Haven’t heard from you in a while, hope you’re well. Want to come over tonight? Josh is here. Sam and Daniel are out.

Yeah, no shit Sam was out. Your gut reaction was to tell him no. Another night of crying in bed alone was just what the doctor ordered on a gloomy day like today. But you fought yourself, typing back a reply.

i would love to!

He messaged back saying he would pick you up around 6. Perfect.

You couldn't be bothered to make yourself look any more than half-decent after classes. When 6 finally rolled around, the light had faded from the sky, leaving only those stars you'd come to resent so much. You carried two shirts over your arm as you headed out to meet Jake at his car.

He opened the door for you, with a bow and a sweep of his arm. “Princess treatment for the angel,” he said with a smile.

You rolled your eyes at him and slinked into the passenger seat. “Thank you, sir,” you quipped back, and he pretended not to hear it.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he pulled out of the lot. “You look…very exhausted.”

You shrugged. “Finals season is coming up. Just getting a bit burnt out, that's all.”

“It’s interesting,” he cocked his head, placing a hand on your knee. “Any time you end a sentence with ‘that’s all,’ you make it rather easy to tell that’s definitely not all.”

How he’d gotten such a firm grasp of your mannerisms in such a short amount of time, you weren’t quite sure. “We can get into it later. Make me one of those fancy drinks first.”

He nodded. “Josh is already preparing the entire house as if the queen herself was coming over. I’ll fix you up something nice, angel.”

“I have your shirts, by the way.” You held them out, neatly folded.

“I figured you’d want to keep them.”

“But they’re yours.”

He let out a short laugh. “I've given you plenty of me, you can have a few shirts, if you want them. Unless you're just giving them back because they don’t smell like me anymore.”

He routinely left you dumbfounded at the way he could clock even the smallest details you would never tell him. Even things you didn’t know were true until he said them. You drew a breath to reply, but found it pointless to protest. He knew you too well.

“Need me to wear them a few times before you’ll take them back?”

“I’ll wait until I get another one from you organically. I’m sure another will be in my possession soon enough.” You smiled at him weakly.

When you pulled up, Josh greeted you at the door with a hug, rocking you side to side in a warm embrace. “So glad you’re here!” He gave you a wide smile, crossing his arms against the cold. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to drink? I got the fireplace going for us.”

“You’re interrogating the poor woman. Let her sit down first,” Jake said, holding the door open for you.

Warm light spilled out from the entryway onto the porch, which had been appropriately decorated for the season. Two vases with a gorgeous bouquet of fake flowers in shades of fall colors framed the door, and a large wreath had been hung on the door itself. Josh’s touches, you figured.

The house was warm, and emanated that familiar scent you’d come to love. It was a mixture of all of them. The fresh, earthy scent from Josh’s plants, the incense that was always burning, the wood in the fireplace, whatever cooking Jake had done that day, it all coalesced into something that made you feel at home. That was a feeling that was difficult for you to find these days, being so far away from your actual home. You were grateful to find even the smallest glimpses of it here. You curled up in the recliner, tucking your hands between your knees. The TV was on, and some cooking show droned out of it.

“What do you want to drink?” Jake asked, coming up behind you and rocking the recliner back and forth. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“Surprise me,” you smiled, looking up at him. He nodded, and whisked himself away to the kitchen.

“Anything in particular you want to do tonight?” Josh asked, plopping down in the oddly-shaped chair across the coffee table from you.

You shook your head. “Just didn’t really want to spend another night alone.”

“I haven’t seen you in weeks, and you’ve been alone this whole time?” Josh almost looked genuinely angry with you.

“Well, I wasn’t going to just invite myself over here…”

“You’re always welcome. All you have to do is ask.”

“Thank you, Josh. That’s sweet of you.” It was almost aggressive, how much he seemed to care about you. It was a good feeling. You didn’t know him all that well, but you could tell he was always ready to fight for you, and he would always be in your corner.

“And what about Sam?” Josh asked as Jake returned to the room, drink in hand for you.

There it was again, that icy feeling that came over you any time he was brought up. “What about him?”

“Why not hang out with him?” Jake asked, sitting on the couch and kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “You guys live in the same building, for god’s sake.”

“He’s…” you were caught in a corner here, and this suddenly felt more like an intervention than a hangout with friends.

“He said you’re not talking to him anymore. You still mad about that fight? I wouldn’t blame you,” Josh said.

You sighed and started nervously fidgeting, lacing your fingers together. It pissed you off a bit, that he would tell them you weren't speaking much. Although, you couldn't rightfully be angry at him for talking to his brothers. “We made up after that. I don’t know if I can really get into this.”

“It’s just us,” Jake said, holding up his hands in a shrug. “Whatever secrets you have, we’ll both happily keep them. But only talk if you want to.”

“You do look terribly exhausted. Like you’ve got no sunshine left. If something is weighing on you, we’re here.”

You looked at your hands in silence for a bit, listening to the ecstatic voice of the announcer on the TV. Counting down, yelling something about how the chefs only had one minute left. It wouldn’t hurt to tell them, right? If anyone would understand, and maybe be able to help, it was the two men sitting with you right now. You weren’t ready to tell them the entire truth of the matter – you weren’t even sure you would be able to make the words come out of your mouth anyway.

“You want me to change the subject?” Jake began. “I did get this cool new–”

“No. It’s just…” You swallowed thickly, gathering your thoughts. “It’s just, like…he’s got this– this new girl I think he’s seeing, and I don’t want to…intrude.”

“Intrude?” Josh tilted his head. “If this new girl of his gets mad at you for just being his friend, he needs to tell her to fuck off. I would tell him that myself.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that.”

Jake’s face was unreadable, something of concern and anger hiding behind his eyes.

“It’s like, we have something very special,” you continued. “Something that feels like more than friendship.”

“Twin flames!” Josh twisted two fingers together.

“Whatever that means, probably, I don’t know.”

“Don’t let him get spiritual about it,” Jake joked, shaking his head at Josh.

“Everything just feels weird between us now. And I don’t know how to fix it,” you said with a sigh.

“Maybe just talk to him.” Jake didn’t look at you when he spoke, his eyes fixed on the TV. “If you think you’re intruding on a new relationship, tell him that. He’ll tell you whether or not that’s true.”

“And I don’t think he would have seemed so sad that you’ve been avoiding him if he didn’t still want you around,” Josh added.

“I guess you’re both right. It’s just…what do I even say?”

“Speak from the heart,” Josh said, leaning towards you. “Just say whatever you need to say.”

“I’ll try, I suppose.” As much as you hated it, they were right. You’d been working so hard to run from all of your feelings, you forgot there was a real person on the end of them. Though, in your blind, irrational rage directed at him, it was hard to find a way to approach it that didn’t involve saying something you'd regret.

Josh was first to change the subject, and conversation quickly evolved through many topics. You had a pleasant buzz going, and just for now, you were able to forget all that plagued your worried mind. The fire roared, the glow and warmth a feeling you'd long forgotten in your time away from home.

Jake told you all about the strides he’d taken with getting the band off the ground, boasting about how Josh was the greatest singer they could possibly ask for. Josh had laughed at that, saying he still had a long way to go. The dynamic of the twins was something special, something you could watch for ages. At times, conversation would slow, the two of them only communicating through whatever kind of telepathy they shared.

It was nice to finally feel like you had people to turn to. You hadn’t realized how much you missed this – aimless conversation between friends. You were able to say anything in this space and you were accepted with open hearts and helpful hands. There was something so good about them, and not just the twins, the entire family. It was so right, like you’d always known them, and were just waiting to meet them your entire life.

The fire began to die, and the hour grew late. Josh looked tired, and excused himself to bed, apologizing profusely for “being such a terrible host, having to leave you.” You laughed his worries away, telling him he was always the greatest host you could ask for. Only you and Jake remained in the living room, alone with the last embers of the fire.

“Just us now.” He turned his eyes to you, a smile playing on the corners of his lips.

You suddenly felt nervous, like you needed to perform, like something was expected of you to keep him entertained.

“You wanna go for a drive?” He asked.

“To where?”

He tilted his head at you. “I know a spot.”

Oh. Your mouth opened in anticipation of words, then closed again, and you couldn’t look him in the eyes. “A spot for what?” You played dumb.

“Oh, did you want me to seduce you?” He stood, walking over to you, hands in his pockets. He stood far too close, and you had to crane your neck up to look at him. “I don’t think it’s necessary, given the way you’ve been looking at me.” He extended a hand towards you. “Come.”

You took his hand and he lifted you from the chair into his arms, your body pressed against him. God, that scent was intoxicating. Trained so perfectly to think of him, to think of the night you’d shared together not all too long ago, every time you got even the slightest hint of it.

His calloused fingers grasped your jaw, gently, tilting your face to his. It only took three words. “You want it?”

“Yes,” you breathed. He’d taught you well that first night, and you knew anything other than words would not be accepted.

The air tonight was unusually warm as he pulled you along to his car, a blessing and a curse from the Earth for what you were about to do. He barely glanced at you as you fell into the passenger seat, speeding away the second you fastened your seatbelt.

“You seemed rather eager to come over tonight. He’s really got you all twisted up, doesn't he?” He asked.

“I’m fine. I just wanted to see you, that’s all.” It was only half of a lie. You wanted to see him, of course, he was your friend now after all. But that wasn’t the only thing you wanted from him.

And he knew that. “There it is again. That's all.” He turned his eyes to you, an eyebrow raised.

“Well…” you couldn’t return his gaze. “Where are we going?” You were heading in the opposite direction of the dorms.

“Taking us somewhere nice and quiet.”

He pulled the car up to a quiet pull-off area on the side of an old road. It was one of those parking lots designed to draw tourism, long ago, before the freeway drew traffic away from this part of town. It was silent here, not another car to be seen, and you were hidden from the main road.

“Listen.” He threw the car in park and took his seat belt off, draping an arm over the back of your seat. “I’m not going to play a part in your revenge scheme.”

You stared at him, stupefied, but you weren’t about to play dumb with him. He could read your every thought, your every intention. There was no point in trying to avoid this. “There is no revenge scheme,” you said, simply.

“Don’t try to act stupid with me, angel. You’re smarter than that.”

“This isn’t about him.”

“Is that really true?” He placed a hand on your shoulder, slowly snaking it up to grip the back of your neck. “You really just want me?”

You held onto his forearm, feeling the muscles twitch with every beat of his heart. “It might look bad from your perspective, I know that. But…” you drew a shaky breath, your thighs squeezing together a bit tighter.

“But what?”

“But I knew I wanted you. From the moment I saw you.”

The tension snapped. He leaned his seat back and pushed it as far back as it would go in one quick movement, something that seemed practiced. He practically dragged you across the center console and into his lap, his teeth latching onto your neck. You both moved in a frenzy, his fingers shaking a bit with anticipation as they plunged beneath the hem of your pants.

“Please,” you whined as he dragged a finger across your panties.

“You beg so much, angel. I’ll give it to you, don’t worry.”

You gripped at his shoulders when he slipped past your panties, rubbing a few quick circles against your clit before sinking a finger into you. You were already soaked, you had been all day, your mind constantly replaying how well he’d fucked you since that night.

You searched in the dark for him, trailing your hands across his chest and down between your bodies until you found what you were looking for. You wrapped your palm around his cock through the fabric of his jeans, soliciting a soft groan from him.

“Needy tonight?” He asked with a smile. “Did I get you all worked up?

“You tend to do that.”

“Fuck.” He found that perfect spot inside you, dragging his fingers across it with precision, like he already knew all the twists and turns of your body flawlessly. With every gasp, every moan that fell from your lips, you felt his chest tighten in sync with you.

You let out a pathetic whimper, trying to undo the button on his jeans but finding no purchase at the awkward angle at which you were pressed against him.

“You want to touch it, angel?” Always so unbearably cocky.

He released his grip on your back and pushed you away a bit, his fingers still working you over. The new angle made you gasp, your hips rocking involuntarily against his palm.

Fingers trembling, you fumbled with the button on his jeans until you could finally pull the zipper down, and you hesitated. In all the frenzy of the other night, you realized you'd never actually seen his cock. Your eyes traced the outline straining against his pants. But you could wait no longer, and finished the job, finally wrapping your fingers around him and pulling it out.

No wonder you'd been sore, and no wonder he radiated confidence. The perfect length, and thick, heavy in your hand. You squeezed a bit harder than you meant to when his thumb found your clit, making his head fall back against the seat with a groan.

You couldn’t take your eyes off him, watching intently as a bead of wetness rolled down the tip. Your mouth started to water at the sight of it. That would have to wait for a different time, though.

“You’ve been thinking about it a lot, haven't you?”

Your eyes met his, your free hand snaking up to grip the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. His lips were parted a bit, giving you a fine view of those perfect teeth, his mouth turned up in a smug smile. “How could I not think about you? I could barely walk the next day–” you were cut off by a gasping moan with one particularly cruel thrust of his fingers.

“Didn’t get enough the first time?”

“Nowhere near enough.”

Things were a blur as he freed you of your pants, yanking them down under your knees, just enough that you could fully straddle his lap. He didn’t bother asking if you were ready – the way you were looking at him, fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to bruise, was enough of a sign. He couldn’t be bothered to pull your panties off, too, instead simply pulling them to the side with one finger as he lined himself up with your entrance.

You were mesmerized as he mimicked the same expressions he’d done the first time. Head tilted a bit, watching as you sank down onto him. His fingers gripped at the flesh of your thighs, one hand sliding around to swiftly crack across your ass. It caught you by surprise, making you let out a shocked whimper as you buried your face into his shoulder.

He let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “God, you just tightened up like crazy. Did you like that?”

You nodded once, a quick gesture against his body. Nobody had ever done that to you before.

“More, please,” you whined.

He rocked against you, lifting your hips just a bit with each movement so that he could thrust up into you. The angle was perfect, every little movement he made resonated through your entire body.

Another blow landed square in the same spot as the last one, and all thoughts left your mind with the impact.

“You love that, huh?” He breathed.

He moved at just the right tempo, angling himself so your clit was pressed snug against his body. This angle made you feel so full, like he was taking up every inch of extra space in your body.

He really did have you worked up, your body already starting to tighten that familiar coil deep in your core. Your moans got quieter, replaced by gasping breaths as you tried to calm yourself down from a peak you were approaching far too quickly.

“Feels like you're gonna cum, angel.” He gripped your jaw with one hand, the other pushing your hips down to slow your pace. “Without permission?”

“You’re really gonna make me ask?” You whined, rocking your hips, trying to chase the sensation that was slipping away.

“Yes I am.” Judging by the way he was struggling to keep an even tempo, he was slowing down for his own benefit, too.

“I– please, Jakey–”

“Oh, so I’m Jakey now? Trying to be all sweet?” He smiled, a sinister smirk of perfect teeth. “I’m not sir anymore?”

“Which one do you prefer, sir?”

“Fuck,” he groaned, jerking himself up into you a bit harder. “Call me whatever you want, angel. They’re both my names, to you at least.”

He resumed a pace that made tears spring to the corners of your eyes, a gut-wrenching fullness encompassing you as every one of your senses abandoned you. You were almost instantly thrust back to the edge.

He got there a moment before you, and the sight of it was something to behold. The way his jaw fell slack, his eyes widening a bit before narrowing into what almost looked like a scowl. That familiar feeling washed over you as you felt him twitching and straining inside you, groans falling from both your lips as you came together.

You sat in the same position for a while, your head resting on his shoulder, both of you fighting to catch your breath.

“You alright?” He breathed against your ear.

“More than alright.”

“Better than the last time?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I thought you were going to break me in half for a minute there.”

You felt the soft rise and fall of his chest as he laughed. “Almost did, I think.”

He slipped out of you, pulling your panties back into place and yanking your pants back up.

“Wait, I didn’t even–”

“Keep it there.” He guided you back into the passenger seat where you hiked the hem of your pants back up to normal, looking at him like he was insane.

You stared at him, dumbfounded, your head cocked to the side in confusion. “Why? That's so–”

“Endorphins. I won’t elaborate.”

You crossed your legs, and gave him a slight shrug. “You’re rather cryptic. Why is that?”

“The girls love it.”

You barely had time to stop your head from spinning before he was speeding back down the way you'd came. He seemed to know this route well. How many other girls had seen this exact view from his passenger seat?

“When you talk to him,” Jake began, sliding his hands over the steering wheel. “Will you tell him about this?” He motioned between the two of you.

“I…don't know, honestly.”

“Do you think you should?”

“I don’t think it’s any of his business.”

Jake shifted a bit, his eyes glancing over to you. “I think it is, though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, he…” Jake sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong.”

There was subtext here, something that was clearly flying right over your head. If you’d only reach just a bit to grab it, it would come to you naturally. But you weren’t sure you wanted to connect whatever dots Jake was laying out for you. “I don’t want to treat you like a dirty little secret of mine, but your brother doesn’t necessarily have to know that we’re fucking.”

“My brother who routinely tells everyone about how you shine brighter than the sun.”

“Doesn’t matter. He’s got someone else, and I’ve got you.” The words left a burning sting in your mouth as they crossed the threshold of your lips. And the two of you didn’t say much else for the remainder of the drive.

“Take care of yourself,” he told you when he pulled up to the dorm building.

You sat there for a moment, your eyes fixed on him. His hair was disheveled, and your fingers ached with the need to reach out and fix it, if only to touch him once again. He was truly magnetic, an irresistible force. Like he was the moon, you were a ship on the tide, you could not fight against his gravity.

“Do I have something on my face?” He asked, with a slight smirk.

“No. Sorry. I just–” you couldn’t resist. You reached out and combed your fingers through his hair gently. It had a bit of curl to it, dampened by sweat and the humidity of the car. “I just needed to fix that.”

“Thanks.” He brushed a finger over your nose, smiling at you. “Go get some sleep, angel. It’s late.”

You nodded at him, and hoisted yourself out of the car on wobbly legs, nearly collapsing back into the seat the first time you tried to stand up. You could hear Jake fighting to hold back a laugh at your struggle.

“Shut up or I’ll never come over again,” you laughed, your heart dropping at the way he immediately covered his mouth and the laughs stopped. So, it really was that serious to him.

“Take it easy,” he called out the window as you shuffled up to the front doors.

[pennyserenade]

it seems that its time for my first reading wrap-up already. being as i didn't have an especially literary september, i decided to include both the months of august and september in this one. going forth, i will likely only do one month at a time. if you'd like to follow my reading journey more closely you can do so at my goodreads or my storygraph. if you would like to talk about these books, recommend your own, and/or speak about your own monthly reading interests and habits, you're welcome to come to my inbox and do so. i'm always willing to speak about this topic, but you'll probably see me do it more at the beginning/end of each month. i'll be tagging this as #miranda's bookclub. if you're interested in following along.

the books i read in between the months of august & september were:

pet sematary by stephen king (fiction) - got from library

miss subways by david duchovny (fiction) - got from library

cultish: the language of fanaticism by amanda montell (nonfiction) - bought on my kindle

the only good indians by stephen graham jones (fiction) - got from libby app (library)

the overstory by richard powers (fiction) - got from library

PET SEMATARY by stephen king.

this novel was my first real incursion into the literary world of stephen king. i've been flirting with the idea of reading a stephen king novel since i saw a boy in seventh grade, clutching his thick edition of it during math class. i'd always been slightly too terrified and intimated, both by the impressive weight of some of his novels and the promise of horror i'd been told of my entire life. i picked up pet sematary as a sort of joke--scary cats coming back to life, haha--and what i got was so much more than i ever could've bargained for. the tragedy and horror in this is not necessarily caused by frankensteinian animals seeking revenge, but by the heavy weight of human grief and this inability we have to let go. i was stunned by the emotion this made me feel, and how deeply affected i was by it. i continue to ardently recommend this to anyone who will listen

my goodreads rating: 5.

my storygraph rating: 5.

MISS SUBWAYS by david duchovny.

oh, david duchovny. i picked up miss subways after reading duchovny's other novel, bucky f*cking dent. i was surprised by how much i enjoyed his writing style in the first novel, and i decided to give this one a try namely because of the fact that it was centered around a female narrator. the way duchovny weaves humor into his stories is great, so markedly him, and what made bucky f*cking dent so wonderful--all that humor, the heart, the genuineness of the story--seemed to stray a little in this novel. i'd like to start of this quasi-review by stating three things: i might not be smart enough for this novel, i probably am not the right audience for it (i don't read much fantasy), and i think this might've been too ambitious of a project for him. the thing i really love about duchovny's writing is that you can always tell how passionate about he is about writing. this is also something i sometimes hate, too. i remember thinking at some points of this that he struggled with telling too much, making it obvious how very much he had researched the topics. as for his handling of a female narrator: not too bad! which surprised me most of all. there wasn't a part in this that really made me roll my eyes or think 'this is a man writing a woman and it's terrible.' he seems to have a grasp on the fact that so much humanity is universal, which is a good thing that so many other male authors often forget. i think duchovny made a most valiant effort in trying to bring this centuries old story to the contemporary, but i think this story wasn't really meant for his humor.

my goodreads rating: 3.

my storygraph rating: 3.5.

CULTISH: THE LANGUAGE OF FANATICISM by amanda montell.

i heard about this book first on tiktok and it captured my attention because like most people i'm vaguely interested in cults. call it morbid curiosity or perhaps its just the anxious person in me always on the look out. when i was a teenager, i once heard something that's stayed with me for a long time: everyone is someone that could be sucked into a cult. i wanted to find out who these people were, the ones that had gotten trapped. while this novel focuses more on the language aspect surrounding cults, i did get a healthy understanding of the people in them. what i really, really, really liked about this novel was the fact that it dealt with and accentuated the fact that these people were often at first willing, smart, and above all things: human. they were not brainwashed beyond the point of saving. they weren't stupid, backyard hillbillies. they were not irrevocably broken individuals. mostly they were affluent, hopeful, and looking for a community of like-minded individuals. their tragic endings were not always the product of their own makings, as we've been lead to believe. they didn't all go out easy, trapped under the spell of a charismatic leader. i liked that the author offered this much needed perspective. i too enjoyed the way montell showed the ways cultish language is employed not only in jonestown situations, but things as simple and innocuous as workout groups and alcoholics anonymous. she throughly picked apart and analyzed cultish language in seemingly every sector of life, and i think that my understanding of these situations is much better for it.

my goodreads rating: 4.

my storygraph rating: 4.5.

THE ONLY GOOD INDIANS by stephen graham jones.

last year i took a class on native american literature and i believe during that class stephen graham jones was one of the authors to be mentioned. i'll admit that i'm rather new to the horror genre, so my grasp of it isn't exactly great but i did enjoy this story and i intensely loved the way this was from a non-white perspective and that it was not a white story. i found myself adequately terrified, psychically cringing at points. these characters, despite all of their endless flaws, were lovable and watching them scum to a seemingly unbreakable curse was equal parts horrifying and sad. the one real critique i have about this story was the pacing of the ending. i found it to be tediously slow at points, focusing too much on the characters of cass, gabe, and mostly denorah. even having said that, i think this was a great novel and i recommend it for anyone looking for a spooky, tragic read for october.

my goodreads rating: 4.

my storygraph rating: 4.25.

THE OVERSTORY by richard powers.

i almost love this one too much for words. currently it is competing for the spot of my most favorite read of this year, and i think its nearly won. i do not think there was a character or family or a relationship in this massive novel that i did not care for or form an attachment to by the end. i cried three times throughout the entire thing and they weren't any trembling lip cries either. no, they were tears down my face sobs. i'm not usually one to cry like that over books, so this was a feat. powers has an incredible way of breathing life into every character that graces the page. in the first part of this story he pays special attention to every character, mapping out their life, their motivations, drawing their lines to trees carefully. in the second half of this novel he throws them together, pushing them all towards one earnest, painfully relevant mission. tragedy, grief, love, passion--it's all here, done so beautifully as to make me enroll in a science class and pick a topic dedicated to the sweeping beauty the forests. i'm not a science girlie and yet this novel has made me care so, so deeply about this it.

my goodreads rating: 5.

my storygraph rating: 5.

[peacefulworld2003feelthegroove]

Long post oops

Tbh I may make a shift in plot to make the violent ending Simon gets to be more of a bad end- not necessarily uncanon but not the solid and only ending. I, as a schizophrenic person have ahard time feeling comfortable making Simon out as violent (even as he is- everyone is. Everyone has the ability to become violent) and I like exploring him better post-crisis. I've been revisiting over and over in my head tye fallout of not going through with an over the top suicide plan, and the way that I actually enjoy the development he takes, and the choices he's forced to confront if he survives, having thought he wouldn't live longer then the evening in the morning. Simon is a charicter who puts off everything until the edge, so using what was going to be the end to his story to instead force him into a corner and reflect on his choices, not in a way of loathing but in a way of action, is a lot more rewarding.

I don't want it to seem like I'm avoiding the grit, I don't want to be like a shallow "fix it fic" but as a schizophrenic, who has mentally ill friends, and has been there both talking people from the edge, and have them in my thoughts while they're in the hospital, both Cain and Simon are very relatable charicters, and in full honesty, I think its more realistic to have him build himself up to a peak, to be ready to make that first step to lead to his very last, and get entirely derailed and left in a cloud of smoke to pick himself back up- suicide no longer even that much of an option, and force himself to live, instead of waking up every day to die.

I just think it's better. Simon is also a very morally complex charicter. I don't want people to think he's an asshole. He is, but there's nuance to it. I don't want people to think he's a total deadbeat neglectful father, but he is. But also, there's nuance to it. And Simon doesn't want anyone to think that either, while simultaneously knowing it's true, which is a big part of the crushing guilt he bears and forces him to continue a cycle of neglect of himself and his responsibilities. I think him dying before he can help himself is a waste of writing and makes the tragedy baseless and without weight, and I think it dead-ends cain as well, both of them are written very much as foils and mirror images, so the loss of the other is a loss of the self, and makes the story hit a field of static nothing.

I want to turn Simon's hatred of his eldest son because he sees too much of himself in him, to a love and care for him, because he sees too much of himself in him. I don't want him to ever stop being afraid of seeing himself in O-ten. But I want his fear to transform from cowardice to anger. He's scared because he hates himself, he's scared to see his son become himself because he knows where that path leads, I want him to take a sheltering stance.

I don't want people to think Simon hates any of his kids because he's some kind of cartoon abuser drunk who preaches about the devil if they don't do weird menial labor tasks like he's some kind of stariotype for a person who's never faced abuse to gawk at. I want to make it clear that Simon chose to label himself as a father, in a society that no longer crowns that label, because he was jealous as a kid of the people with families, that he wanted to be a father but didn't understand what it meant, and like all things in his life, when interacting with something that scared him, he ran away from it. Simon hates his kids because they're more like 3 week late math homework he knows he won't finish, and he knows won't be worth enough points anyways. He's afraid he's too late, he's afraid that having no family at all is better than having himself ever be a part of one. He's convinced the only thing to do is die- and having his kids get attached to him further than the fond memory of a 2nd grade teacher would be setting them up for sadness. He hates his kids because every time he sees them he's reminded of the fate he will die, and they will greive.

Simon started his life as a child always told his shortcomings were a personal choice, and he's grown up to crave pain and hate because being a better person and letting opertunities to add pain (of his or others) to the world pass by is just more taxing. He was taught, like all children, that the act of grief can heal. Crying when scared can help fix the issue, and like many people stuck in depressive cycles, his brain chases grief and grieving, desperate to reward itself for not fixing an issue but thinking it's halfway to nowhere.

In no world is Simon going to become less psychotic. He's an ugly schizo in a way not marketable as a slasher nor as a victim, he's scary out of secondhand concern and he makes bad decision loudly. And he will never stop doing that. Healing isn't about becoming less mentally ill, I just want him to realize whatever shit he wastes away doing every day isn't fixing the issue, and he got far too comfortable with being uncomfortable.

[syndianites]

A Queen Serve and Protects

Chapter Six

First Chapter –> Last Chapter –> Current –> Next Chapter TBA! Summary:

Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe’s character could have developed] ——————————————————————————————

Pollen tapped the tablet pen on the table. School had ended and the duo was officially home.

“Chloe,” Pollen began. “It has come to my attention that you don’t do your own work.”

“So?” Chloe nonchalantly replied, crossing one leg over the other from where she sat on the chaise in front of Pollen.

Pollen tried not to roll her eyes. “So, I want you to learn how to be self-sufficient.”

Chloe scoffed. “I am plenty self-sufficient.”

“Really?” Pollen had a sweet smile on her face. “Then prove it.”

:readmore:

Before Chloe could make any remark, Polle flew over to her school bag. It looked more like a purse, honestly, with how much makeup and accessories she had stashed away inside. Seriously, what did you need an extra pair of heels for?

Pollen shook off the thought and grabbed the binder Chloe used for class, as well as her homework folder. Brining both items back to the table, she flipped the folder open. She pulled out the first sheet of homework she saw- something math related- and waved a paw at it.

Chloe gave her a dumbfounded look. “You want me to do that? Sabrina normally does.”

Pollen raised an eyebrow.

“Ugh, fine, I get it.” Chloe grumbled. “What does doing my own work have to do with being self-sufficient anyway?”

“When was the last time you did your own school work.”

“Ughhhh!”

Letting out a little giggle, Pollen decided to make a compromise, “For every question you get correct, I’ll let you ask a question about the Bee miraculous and its powers. However!” Pollen held a paw up before Chloe could get too excited, “For each you get wrong, you have to listen to some history and background on the miraculous.”

“Ooo-kay? How is that a loss for me? I still get to know what I want to know,” Chloe replied.

If only the poor girl knew.

Pollen beamed. “I’m glad you asked! You know how much you love our ‘Bee Nice’ Sessions?”

Chloe groaned.

“Anything I tell you will come along with lessons. I will tell you tales that are important for a number of reasons. And you have to sit through all of them!”

Chloe’s eye twitched. That sounded excruciating. Buuuut, she did want to know more about what powers the Bee miraculous could give her. It was just a simple math worksheet. Surely, it couldn’t be that hard. So Chloe took out a blank sheet of paper and began working.

She was wrong. So, so wrong. Chloe was by no means a bad student. She got solid B’s and pleased her daddy enough with her grades to get by. Did she need to have a study session with Sabrina before each test or quiz to get the contents down? Yes.

But that was all pish-posh. She figured if she could pick up enough for a test or quiz a day before it, she could do homework with no problem. Apparently, she hadn’t been giving Sabrina enough credit. That girl made it so much easier than this.

It didn’t help that her notes were a total disaster. Half-finished sentences, unclear instructions, and a clear lack of interest in each page. For a moment Chloe cursed her own apathy. She wanted to know more, damnit! 

By the time she finished she felt exhausted. Pollen, ever chipper, hummed as she looked through each question. She procured a pen and started making marks. That was a lot of red. Oh GOD, there was so much red.

Pollen tapped the pen to her chin in thought. Giving a nod, she wrote a score at the top of her sheet.

6/15. 

That was just under half! And that meant she would have failed had it been a test. Chloe resisted the urge to hit her head on the table. She could not afford to be forced into tutoring. Again.

Despite Chloe’s despair, Pollen was excited. This was better than she was expecting! Sure, she had been hoping for closer to a 75% or 80%, but Chloe at least had the idea down.

Plus this meant she could drill some more lessons into her charge.

Rubbing her paws together, she addressed Chloe. “Alright. Since it is almost an even split, let’s go back and forth with questions and history. I’ll start with a history lesson first, since you missed more than you got correct. But since I’m feeling nice, I’ll give you a choice here: Would you rather hear some history about my previous holders first, or about all the miraculous as a whole?”

“Your past wielders, of course! I need to know who would be so lucky to use the same miraculous as moi.” Chloe flipped her hair back to accentuate her point.

Pollen huffed. Nonetheless, she thought back to her past holders, humming all the while. Who would be the best to start with to help Chloe learn? 

She smiled as someone came to mind. “Now, before we start, I should say that we aren’t always deployed to battle some great evil. Sometimes, we are let out into the world to help inspire something. For me, I either inspire Order and Control. Or, when that gets to be too much, I inspire freedom from Order and Control.”

“Wait,” Chloe interrupted. “Why would you go against your whole Order thing?”

“I thought you wanted to talk about past wielders first,” Pollen brought a paw up to her lips to hide a smile. “To get into that would mean I would have to talk about all the miraculous.”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Tell me the basics about all the miraculous first. But! You better tell me about your past users after!” Chloe conceded, pouting at the little god.

Pollen started again. “Like I said, we don’t always need a great evil to fight. At their core, each miraculous is meant to balance out their respective aspects. Tikki- Ladybug’s kwami- is the kwami of Light and Creation, for example. She is largely put out into the world to inspire new ideas and innovation.”

Chloe scrunched her nose in confusion. “Didn’t you say you also get put out to stop Order and Control? Why would you ever want to stop Light and Creation?”

“Well,” Pollen looked off to the side. “You can’t endlessly create. Tikki works on a more individual scale. She inspires Light and Creation in people as individuals. I, however, inspire Order and Subj- Control in a much larger scheme. After all, a bee’s focus is on the hive, isn’t it?”

“In any case, sometimes people burn themselves out when creating too much or spreading too much light. If you give and give and give, what is left for you? Nothing. And those left with nothing often crumble and fall apart- or worse. Tikki, when she is needed to, can either help her holder ease off themselves or help their holder teach others to let go of such demanding responsibility.”

Chloe nodded slowly. That… sort of made sense. “So it’s like when Adr- a friend of mine kept being happy and smiling even after his mother died to help others stop being sad. Because he wanted others to feel ‘lighter’” She made finger quotes, “Despite the tragedy that happened?”

“Yes, that could be a good example,” Pollen agreed. “If your friend gave away all his light and such to others, it could burn him out and leave him feeling empty and cold. Though, in this case I would lean more into the Peacock- he worked to give good emotion to others to cover their grief. But we’ll get there in a moment.”

“Plagg, Chat Noir’s kwami, is Tikki’s counterpart. He is the kwami of Dark and Destruction.” Pollen stopped as Chloe seemed to ponder that.

“If he is all about dark and destruction, wouldn’t that make him more likely to be evil?” Chloe mused.

Pollen, for her part, wasn’t bothered by the question. “If I am all about order and control, wouldn’t I be more likely to use and abuse people?”

Chloe bit her lip, but shook her head no.

“Exactly. Just because that is what we represent it does not mean we are prone to be good or evil. In the balance of all things, there IS no good and evil. Really, it just comes down to what a certain group likes or dislikes, or how a person’s morals are aligned.”

“Okay, no, Hawkmoth is totally evil. There is no doubt about that. How could taking control of others and using their emotions to turn them into monsters be seen as a good thing?” Chloe didn’t like the idea of Hawkmoth being in the ‘right’ at all. It went against everything he had done to Paris.

“Well,” Polled offered, “Does Hawkmoth see himself as evil?”

Chloe sat back in her seat. If movies were anything to go by, he probably didn’t. She sighed and motioned Pollen to continue

Pollen pushed on. “In any case, Plagg is often put into the world to ruin things. Surprising, isn’t it? But sometimes the best things are made in the ashes of destruction. Growing from losing things is important for many people. Like how your friend lost his mom- he likely felt sad and lost. But if he grew from that? He could learn to see that others will have his back and he can lean on them. Even in the hard times.”

Chloe looked away from Pollen. She was right, sort of. When Adrien’s mom died, Chloe had been there trying her best to cheer him up. Did it really work? No. But she helped him escape the house and run around the city with her, and watch stupid cartoons and shows, and sometimes, just sometimes, get him to smile.

“But losing your mom isn’t a good thing!” Chloe snapped back. “That devastated my friend and his family.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I painted it as such. Loss is a horrible thing to endure. But I wanted to make a connection to something you mentioned.” Pollen bowed her head. “Destruction is rarely a happy thing. But, a more positive example would be something more metaphorical- the destruction of insecurities, or breaking a bad relationship, or- or bashing down a wall so you can open up a room to have more space!”

Sighing, Pollen shook her head. “It is far too easy to see Dark and Destruction as a bad thing. Darkness can be used to hide when you don’t feel safe. Or it can be used to tone down how bright something is when you feel blinded. It can also be used as a complement and give things more depth.”

“Of course, Plagg has also been put out to tame destruction. Have you ever heard the phrase ‘fighting fire with fire’? It’s the idea that you fight destruction with destruction. But he can also help people see their bad habits, or the things that hurt them, and get them to reign them in and stop themselves before it’s too late.”

“Okay, sure, that makes sense. But didn’t you just describe Tikki and Plagg as opposites anyway? Light and Dark, Creation and Destruction? Why do they need to get people to go against their aspect when the other IS the opposite?” Chloe butt in.

Pollen brightened. “That’s technically later in this lesson, but I can touch on it now. You’ve likely noticed that Ladybug and Chat Noir came together as a pair, correct?” At Chloe’s nod, she continued. “That is because they are like Yin and Yang- opposites that complete each other. While other kwamis do have opposites, none quite work the same as Tikki and Plagg. They were once a single being- one that was the kwami of Balance.”

“Well,” Pollen rubbed her cheek, “They weren’t a kwami, per se. But that is too much to explain for right now. You recall how Hawkmoth’s goal is to get the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous?”

“Of course, that’s all he ever talks about when he akumatizes someone!”

“Well, that’s because when you combine the two into one you can have any wish granted.”

“What!” Chloe slammed her hands down on the coffee table, startling Pollen. “That’s horrible! I mean, the power is cool, but if Hawkmoth got his grubby hands on that wish who knows what he would wish for!” 

“Exactly! But there’s a catch with that- whatever you wish for will have an equal and opposite consequence. If you wished for someone to come back to life? Someone else must die. If you want to have all the power in the world? Everyone else must become powerless. These may sound simple, but the gravity is just as dire as the wish would be grand.”

Chloe fell back. “So, if I- well, if I wished for my mom to love me..?”

“It depends,” Pollen shrugged. “Maybe everyone else around you would hate you. Maybe your father would stop loving you. Or, in a more subtle fashion, she wouldn’t love the real you, just a facsimile of you. Whoever she thinks you are. Sure, there are ways to make a wish that has a mostly positive outcome- for the one making the wish- but the consequence will always hurt someone. Even if it has to be a lot of someones.”

The two fell into silence after that declaration. It was a heavy thought. What could drive someone to want to change something so badly they would be willing to suffer or let others suffer for it? How cold hearted must you be? 

The whole thing baffled Chloe. She could just ring her father and have what she wanted with no consequence. Could she imagine doing something so drastic as to ruin someone’s life to make hers better?

Instead of voicing any of this, Chloe leaned forward. “So tell me about the other miraculous…”

[wave0fg00dvibes]

You’re my Home - Spencer Reid x Reader

Murders, betrayal, violence, and corpses. Or, in other words, a typical day at work for Dr. Spencer Reid.

He felt the overwhelming exhaustion of the day start to catch up to him as he climbed the concrete steps to the house. His messenger bag somehow seemed heavier than usual as his limbs began to give in to the stress the day had brought. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, making sure to lock it behind him and reset the alarm system.

The little house was silent. Not eerily so, but peacefully. Spencer closed his eyes, took a deep comforting breath, and smiled. He was home.

Home was the place where he didn’t have to worry about bodies dropping left and right. There was no one to pressure him to work harder or move faster. No profiling, combat, negotiation, or death. His only worries in this house involved toddler meltdowns and diaper changes, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Spencer walked past the living room to the hallway, noticing the many toys and books scattered about. Dirty dishes sat in the sink, and daily crafts were scattered across the kitchen table, long forgotten. He smiled to himself. He could only imagine what destruction your smart, chaotic, beautiful children had caused today.

He slowly made his way down the hall, arriving at the first door and quietly pushing it open. The princess night light cast a pink glow around the room, illuminating the face of his daughter, sleeping soundly.

She was turning 5 soon. Where had the time gone?

He seemingly blinked and Ava had transformed from a fussy baby into a tiny, wildly intelligent human that understood his racing thoughts. Though so very little, she was already discovering the wonders of books and knowledge, and striving to learn all she could get her hands on. He knew from the moment she was born they had a special bond. She is one of the only people who truly understands his mind, because she shares it.

He slowly crept into her room, sitting on her bed gently, as not to wake her. He attempted to subtly kiss her forehead, but she stirred and sleepily opened her eyes, taking a moment to process what was happening.

“Daddy?” She whispered. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Hi baby. I’m here.”

The excitement in her face was quickly replaced by her small body’s urge to fall asleep again.

“I missed you today.” She drowsily muttered.

“I missed you too.” He whispered back.

“Mommy read me Chaucer, but it wasn’t the same without you. It’s okay though. We can read some different subjects together! I want to learn more math, but she doesn’t like reading those to me as much as you do.”

Spencer felt his eyes slightly water. One of his greatest fears was missing these little moments with his children. He wanted nothing more than to read books and learn with Ava all day.

He also knew that you were an incredible mother who would read the entire phone book to Ava if she asked. You weren’t offended at all by Ava’s requests to read with her Dad. You knew their bond was special, and couldn’t be matched.

“I would love to learn some math with you. We can do that tomorrow though, okay?”

She nodded, smiling brightly as her eyes drifted closed again. His heart could hardly take the amount of love he harbored for that smile.

“Goodnight, Ava.” Spencer whispered, attempting to get up. She grabbed his hand before he could stand.

“Daddy, will you please stay just a little bit longer?”

She had him wrapped around her tiny finger.

“Of course I will.”

He held her hand and smoothed her hair back as she slowly but surely fell back into a deep sleep. Spencer pressed a kiss to her forehead, slowly put her hand back, and tip toed out of her room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Next, he made his way to the nursery.

He crept down the hall and into the baby’s room with ease. Ever so quietly, he leaned over the crib to observe the little boy, sound asleep.

Grayson had just turned 6 months old. It seemed like every time he got home from work his son had grown another inch.

Spencer didn’t want to wake him. Lord knows you had enough on your plate with the little sleep you got. He didn’t want to add to that stress. So, he simply watched Grayson’s tiny, adorable body squirm in his sleep.

It seemed like just yesterday he heard Ava’s first cry. How could time be flying by this quickly?

“Goodnight, Grayson.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead.

As he turned to leave the nursery, an intense feeling of guilt overwhelmed him. Lately, he was so caught up at the bureau that he barely saw his children in the daylight. He wasn’t able to read with Ava, hold Grayson, or spend any time with you, his wife, his life partner.

Spencer would rather die than abandon his family the way his father abandoned him. He couldn’t bear the thought of his babies not knowing him, not trusting him, never knowing how much he would give up for them. He felt his mind begin to spiral. So, as with many other intrusive thoughts, he pushed it away. He could deal with those feelings another time. Right now, he needed to sleep.

He stepped quietly into your bedroom, noticing that you left his lamp on for him. He smiled softly, heavy heart lifting a bit at the thought of you waiting up for him. He quickly put on his night clothes and padded to the bed.

Your shoulders rose and fell with every relaxed breath. Though you were facing away from him, he could tell you were wearing his favorite t-shirt. He smiled again and gently pulled back the covers.

You were pulled from your sleep as you felt your husband slide into the bed beside you. You sleepily, yet excitedly turned your body to face him, smiling and reaching your arms out to hold him.

Spencer surprised you. He gently cupped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply, longingly, passionately.

It must’ve been a really tough day at the BAU.

When he pulled back, his hands didn’t leave your face and you pressed your forehead to his.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You gently asked.

“No.” He stated. Kind, but firm.

You nodded. He would tell you later, when he was ready. He always did.

“Did you say goodnight to the babies?”

“Of course. Always.” You could hear the drowsiness in his voice as you felt the tension in his muscles begin to relax, but there was still something bothering him.

“Hey, what’s up?” You gently prodded, running a hand through his hair. He let out a deep sigh.

“It’s really nothing. I promise.”

You looked him straight in the eye. Your glance saying more to him than your words ever could.

Don’t shut me out, Spencer. I’m here.

He averted his gaze, but you brought your hand to his face, turning it to meet your eyes again. He could see the concern blooming, and was reminded how little he could hide from you. His partner. His person.

He couldn’t help the flurry of loving thoughts running through his mind as his eyes responded.

You are so beautiful.

You smiled. You knew he meant it, but there was something more. However, the bags under his eyes suggested it could be a conversation for another time.

You leaned in and pressed a light, lingering kiss to his lips.

He smiled back at you, thankful for your understanding. He turned his bedside lamp off and promptly pulled you as close to him as possible, limbs intertwining, hearts finally whole again.

You laid like that for a solid couple of minutes before his racing mind couldn’t take it anymore.

“Do you think they will resent me for not being around?”

You slowly opened your eyes and pulled back to look him in the eye, not having the faintest idea where he was going with this.

“What?”

Spencer sat up in bed and turned the light on again. He took a deep breath, and all at once you knew what was coming.

“Did you know that children who grow up without a father figure in the house are two times more likely to drop out of high school?”

“Spencer…” You attempted to reach for him, but he was too focused now.

“Or… or what about the fact that they are more likely to have behavioral problems? Or that they are 279% more likely to carry guns and deal drugs than their peers? That’s a HUGE margin!”

“But Spence…” You sat up to face him, knowing this needed to run its course before you could help him. You softly rubbed his back as he continued.

“Children who have father involvement are far less likely to cause trouble. They get better grades in school, have better social skills, have a far greater emotional wellbeing, are less likely to succumb to obesity… the list is endless! And… and boys with absent fathers are more likely to become absent fathers themselves. What if Ava isn’t succeeding as much as she could because I’m not around? And what if I’m scarring Grayson’s idea of a father? And now the pressure of raising our children is all on you and I’m so afraid you’re going to start resenting me and I just…”

“Spencer. Hey.” You turned his head to face you, finally seeing the tears threatening to spill over.

Your heart fractured. How could he not know how much his family loved him? How could he doubt the utter adoration the three of you shared for him?

Your eyes welled up as you realized that this is what his job does to him. He sees violence, destruction, and betrayal every single day. He sees families turn on each other and split apart because of tragedies. He works relentlessly because if he doesn’t, people die.

Of course he questions every aspect of his life.

Words could never convey the magnitude of the love you shared. They couldn’t pull him out of this hole in his mind he had been painstakingly digging. So, you listened to your heart when it told you to kiss him so hard that he forgets why he was ever worried.

You grabbed his face and pressed your lips to his, slowly, but firmly. He responded immediately, but with reservation. A few tears tracked down his face as his arms tensed, holding onto you ever so tightly. You kissed him harder, hands trailing from his neck to the back of his head to get lost in his hair. He followed your lead, reserves fading, walls coming down. Slowly, his hands snaked under your shirt to trace shapes on your back. You smiled into the kiss and felt him do the same.

Before you knew it, his hands were begging you to come closer to him. You swung a leg over his so you were straddling him, holding his face again as his arms enveloped you with full force. He kissed you with the fiery passion you knew he held. He held you as if the universe were going to take you away any second. He showed you just how much he loved you with every frenzied movement, every soft touch, and every crash of your lips.

Impossibly close could never be close enough. Not for two souls intertwined, like yours.

You pulled away and pressed your forehead to his, breathing heavily. His breath matched yours as you both sat there, holding each other, waiting for the world around you to reappear.

When it finally did, you met his eyes again. Hoping to see the unique spark that only your husband possessed.

“I love you, Spencer Reid.”

“I love you too.” He smiled lovingly up at you, and there it was. His spark. Your heart leapt for joy.

“Forever and ever, ‘til death do us part. Right?”

He nodded, breaking your gaze to wipe away stray tears with the back of his hand. You wiped away the rest with your thumbs, softly stroking his face.

“You are a fantastic husband and father. You hear me?” You meant it with your whole heart, but his eyes questioned you.

Yeah?

Yeah. I promise.

He smiled and let out a sigh of complete relief, pulling your body even closer and nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You held him, so unbelievably content to give your husband the security he craved. You pressed kisses into his hair as you rubbed his back, feeling him start to relax. He pulled away to look at you, with all the love in the world in his eyes. You smiled back, feeling your heart flip the same way it did the first time you met.

You reached over to turn the lamp off once more, and then settled comfortably into Spencer’s arms. His whole body relaxed as soon as you laid your hand on his chest.

There was so much more to say. So many things he needed to know, to absorb, to be sure of. So much love he needed to take with him to the job that tore him apart. But he was exhausted, and that could all wait until the morning. You snuggled into his chest and felt his arms grow tighter around you.

Just before you were about to fall asleep, you remembered something you knew would ease his troubled mind.

“You know what Ava told me today?”

“Hmm?” He answered, clearly also close to sleep.

“She said she wanted to wait to put the quadratic formula into practice until you got home.”

He let out a joyful laugh, and you joined, holding him tighter.

“Really? She did?”

“Yeah, she did. She loves you. More than anything.”

Nothing could match his smile at that moment. He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your lips before letting his head fall back to the pillow.

“I love you.” You heard him whisper.

“We love you too, Spencer. So much.”

You snuggled impossibly closer, and with that you both slipped into a deep, relaxing sleep.

----

A/N: Here we go again, friends. How have I not seen Criminal Mind’s until this quarantine?!? My disguised blessing of Coronavirus. Anyway, thank you for reading, as always. Feel free to comment/critique/roast here or on my AO3 – wave0fg00dvibes. I love feedback! I have some more Reid stuff in the works… let me know if there’s anything specific y’all want to read! Love always. <3

[mushykat]

i am failing 4 classes

I’m sick and I don’t like it. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, and I don’t like how it hurts to wake up. I don’t like how the feeling of hearing damage is the only thing grounding me to a plain of nothing but heartache and tragedy. I hate how much I’ve let myself spiral. I’m tumbling down a black spire that I’ve built for myself. What lays at the bottom will hopefully kill me when I connect with the waters below. 

Sometimes I want to draw. The picture I want to use to express the swirling mass of razors and burnt scraps of thoughts that plague my consciousness never turns out how I want them to. I don’t want to sit down and put time into something that I cannot love. It’s why I refuse to try and dig myself from the pit laden with the shreds of memories I hold on to in order to justify the horrible things I see. 

I don’t want to write as a career. A career path means choosing a secondary school, and it means going and applying myself to something. I can’t put the effort into keeping myself afloat in the sea of that of which troubles me, and yet I’m expected to weigh myself down with books full of repeated sentences that will suffocate me with a bad credit score and the inability to apply for a loan. 

I don’t want money to be spent on me for college. I’m going to do bad and eventually give up, like I always do. I never apply myself to anything like I should. I know better. As I sit and write, and let the crisp feeling of the screen sear the exhaustion ridden pupils I’ve tormented as such the night prior, I have assignments I haven’t turned in. If I can’t bother to not fail an 11th grade math class over my own impotence, then how am I supposed to swallow down the poison that is higher education. 

What’s the point of using flowery language to cover the corpse of what I write? What will the sprouts of tulips and daisies do against the rot of myself. Why must I try and work every word into an intricate tapestry to illustrate the images my hands refuse to draw. Why do I try to form the pictures my mind refuses to accept of what I see of myself. Why am I fucking sick? 

I can feel the rise and fall of my chest, and yet my lungs always feel empty. I can feel the beat of a heart cradled behind the intertwined digits of marrow that tuck it away in a forest of fleshy fat, and yet I wonder if I am truly living. Is this all life is to be? Am I expected to carry on in the future. Carry on and carrion are easy to mix up, I presume. But what a simple mistake for such a bloated carcass such as myself.

I feel like if I try to chase after the fleeting ideological wisps of smoke that arise from the coals I smother, and do in fact explore writing as a career, I fear I will run out. I think the only mirrors I can truly accept are the ones others have pointed towards me. The only thing I can see anymore is warped and distorted by the heat of a long burnt-out inferno that ate away at the only thing I could hold dear to myself. 

These little mirrors sit behind my eyes, and reflex off of each other. They shine beams of light to one another, as some sick paradox that I am too shaded to partake in. I want to see the light, but I fear what I may see if I allow illumination into the crevices of where I hide. The dark is cold and safe, and lets me shelter away from that which wishes to harm me. 

The world isn’t out to get you, after all. The only mantra I can remember clearer than the burning gazes of reflected disdain directed towards me. Are the shattered mirrors that try to piece my reality together warped from the heat of myself or others? I think I know who ignited me, but I would rather let the coals die away as I wish for myself. I envy the carbon lumps sitting in the sludge pooled at my feet. 

I am one of the ants that get burned alive under a child’s magnifying glass. I can still feel the heat enveloping me, and can taste the smoke as it hangs around my throat in a familiar noose. I welcome it, even. Why else would letting the smog from burning leaves powder kisses of slime and tar across my lungs? I relish the taste I’m left with. It is impure.

Impurity is the only state I know. Disgrace and dissidence is the only way for me to view myself through the shattered lenses that have been scratched and dulled with age. I wish I could pry them out of my skull with the screwdriver that sits in the drawer on my desk. Maybe if I slipped them out of my head and gave them a good rinse, I could have a clean look at the world around me. Maybe I could be happy. 

What’s to say they aren’t responsible? Holding tender orbs with a sheen of slime from the crevice they reside, smeared with the crimson shame that comes with self mutilation. I wonder if I could view myself with such an event. Could I get a good look? Could I watch myself desecrate the corpse that I walk in? 

Maybe my eyes aren’t the problem. The ants nibbling behind my eyes made my sight throb, as if what I’m viewing of the world is wrong. It’s never right, though. Maybe the ants are just more noticeable when I decide to grace them with acknowledgement. But they’re not real, of course. The idea of something being out of place would require something to be wrong, which there isn’t. I know because you told me. :)

I hate writing. It’s horrible and I’m disgusted with anything I read from myself. I do not approve of the venom that drips from my lips, and yet I refuse to pull my fangs. Maybe I could shatter the rest of my teeth while I’m at it. I could run my tongue over the raw indents where the abused shards of enamel I refused to care for would be. But since when do I care about taking care of myself? I’m scared of what I write. Every word is a little sliver of the mirrors that have cracked behind my eyes. The tears that fall hold shards of the reflective glass, and lands upon the scarred hands with which I type. I’m scared that the mirrors will be gone, and I’ll be forced to see the reality of what is before me in its entirety. And yet, I’m more scared of running out of escaping sorrow.

Why would I pursue a career in writing when I don’t know of what I write? Why would I try to make money off of a skill I do not have? What’s the point of humoring the idea that I can write? The illness that lets the steady drip of sickly ichor flow through me is the only reason I can type as I do. It’s the one who puppeteers this horrid poppet of flesh bound sinew and bone. If I am not sick, then how will I write? 

I cannot write. There is nothing to write about. Any of the scorch marks sitting heavy in my chest, and any of the burns lingering against my face from the reflected magnitude of the heat of the abhorrence of the mirrors others hold are from fault of my own. I am the reason I am sick, and I am the reason I refuse to get better. The feeling of the keys popping under my fingers is proof enough that I am not dead, and yet I let myself make allusions as to why I can only experience a dullness in place of stimulations. 

Every time I try to sit down and write like this, I try to crack a piece off of the mirrors. They’re melted into a grotesque putty, and it’s not delicate work to try and pry shards of it apart. I can swing and shatter the mass of heathenry, but then I would have to stare into the space between the shards. The spaces where I can see. 

How long can I chisel at a deformity before it is gone? Doesn’t the idea of writing to clear my mind imply that there's an end goal. That perhaps I can someday empty myself of the acid that eats away at the tissue behind my eyes. Doesn’t that mean that I’m the reason I’m ‘sick’? I don’t have the right to be upset. I know this. It’s my fault. 

The way others see me is the same, even if they claimed to have shifted their realities. Is it so easy? Why haven’t I done it for myself? I know why. I am lazy and prefer the glorification of necrophagous fantasies over the reality that the only rot in me is my own. The only poison that reaches me comes from inside. The bed of soil I rest in is free from mites and grubs, and yet I wrote. The only desecration is my own. 

As I write and try to put these pathetic ideas against a sickly backdrop of a fake shade of white, I can’t help but yawn., It seems to be tiring to do the most basic of tasks. Sometimes I wish that I could lay amongst the blankets marred with the imbecility of myself and not be roused. I want to slumber for the rest of time, and let the roots overtake me. Maybe as my flesh is eaten away and my bones are dissolved by a hundred rains, I could finally rest. 

I wish that I could bash my head against the wall and shatter everything going on inside of me. If it was in pieces, maybe it would be easier to weep under the rug. I want to hide it from myself. I don’t have anything wrong with me, I am just a hypochondriac that has done too much research. I know seven people who could agree with me. I live with three of them. Even if stories change, the words that linger are the ones that left bruises. Lying can’t fix the purple and yellow that litters my mind. 

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t like this. Sometimes I wished I was loved. But why would it change anything? I would be loved and broken. I would be shattered and adored. I would be coddled and ruined. What difference would circumstances make when I’m the one who sets the table against me? I’m the reason the betting is so low. I picked the numbers, and I knew what I was doing. I’m aware of the horrible things I do, and yet I do them. I know I’m failing classes, and yet I write with blurry vision to try and alleviate a fake weight keeping me from breathing. 

I don’t like school. I wish I didn’t have to go. But what else would I do with my day? I’m stupid. I’m tired of being told I’m not. I don't know the things people think I do. I only know things I can remember, and things that I care about. Neither of those apply to much. My mind’s empty enough that the few thoughts I can hold are the only thing keeping me from falling back into the static burning the edges of my subconscious. 

My neck hurts.

[fenweak]

High School AUs

College/University AUs

⭐ A+ fics (imho) | All of the recs

High School AUs

High Scores by popfly ⭐

Kaner is a DDR master, Jonny is ultra-competitive. Bollig just wants to make out with Shawzy.

Dynamical Systems by jezziejay ⭐ - math geek patrick! jock jonny!

Jonny’s plenty smart, but there’s hockey practice just before a double math period every Tuesday and Wednesday morning. He gets to class on time. Physically, he’s there. But his mind is still on the ice. Throw in a kidney infection that keeps him home for two weeks, and Jonny’s struggling. Not failing, but that C is dragging his GPA down, and his mom is making clucking noises. The same noises that mean hockey time is coming up for review.

There’s a note on the student boards advertising tutoring.

promise i'm worthy (to hold in your arms) [One and Only series] - teenage angst and american douchebags ft. ryan kesler

"So come on and give me a chance to prove I am the one who can walk that mile."

love is a contact sport by hazel, mermaid  ⭐ - high school soulmates!

"And the tragic reality of Patrick's life is that even though they broke up over a year ago, he and Johnny still play beautiful hockey together."

A high school AU, featuring dream-fish, bad movie dates, and a little bit of magic.

Movie Nights or Five Times Jonny Wanted Popcorn (and One Time He Didn’t) by CoffeeKristin

Patrick had only been working at the movie theater a few weeks when a noisy bunch of boys from his high school burst through the doors just before the last showing of Captain America: Civil War and come tumbling into the lobby, whooping it up. He sighed and put down the containers of popcorn he was counting, mentally preparing himself for the asshattery he was likely to endure.

“What can I get you?” he asked the crowd, and true to form, no one was listening so he waited another moment. Finally one of the boys got pushed to the front, stumbling into the counter. “Fuck, Duncs, not so hard,” he said, and oh. That was Jonathan Toews: Captain of the high school soccer team, president of the student council, son of the mayor. Basically, everything Patrick wasn’t.

do it how you want it done ⭐

(very vaguely) grease-inspired high school au.

yeah, i went there.

kissing your honeyed eyes by forochel

The one that's the British boarding school AU.

This Is What A Love Song Sounds Like by fourfreedoms  ⭐ - reunion fic but god the flashbacks! the angst!

When he came out after his freshman year of college his mother said she’d always known, and he’d had to fight down the bizarre wave of paranoia that maybe everybody knew, maybe they’d all just been letting him sweat all those years. It was crazy of course, there was only one person who’d known, who had any idea.Patrick Kane.

Ten years after they fucked around in high school, Patrick and Jonny meet back up at their high school reunion.

roll with it by hazel  ⭐

The one where a bunch of Blackhawks inexplicably go to boarding school, Tazer is the world's meanest DM, and Pat doesn't know why anyone would think cutting the head off a hydra was good idea.

Light Me Up by sahiya - where they both went to Shattuck!

Being serious about hockey always meant Patrick would have to leave home. For a long time he thought it would be for juniors and a billet family. But things don't go as planned, and he finds himself at Shattuck-St. Mary's.

His roommate's name is Jonathan Toews. He can't keep his water bottles on his side of the room, and he's unfortunately, stupidly hot. Because Patrick's life sucks.

boot theory by mentalistecbm - teen angst, break up

Everyone knows that they're broken up.

glory days by liketheroad ⭐ - soulmate, teen angst

He never expected his destiny to involve anything but hockey, never thought it would show up in flip flops, but when Patrick smiles at him across the locker room, quick and surprised, Johnny lets his priorities shift and change without a hint of reluctance or regret.

There's Only Blood Running In My Veins by mikarala - pwp

Patrick and Jonny are making out in Patrick’s bedroom when Jonny says it. “I--I,” he stutters out, in between a moan, “I want you to fuck me.”

Gold Seeking Ends by liveinfury - Flipped AU

“Wanna go on the tire swing with me after?” Jonny asks.

“No,” Patrick answers.

“Oh,” Jonny says, looking deflated. “What about the jungle gym?”

“Nope."

“Um, okay,” Jonny says, shrugging before walking away.Sam giggles some more. “I can’t believe Jonny, the dirt eater, likes you.”Patrick smirks at him. “Everyone likes me.”

(or Patrick and Jonny meet in the second grade. Jonny's instantly smitten, Patrick is...not. Ten years later, things start flipping.)

Keep Calm and Don't Think of Star Wars podfic by exmanhater ⭐ - A Clueless AU

After I once again assure Abby that Johnny and I are not, NOT related (by googling the difference between half-brother and stepbrother because jesus fucking christ am I am the only knowledgeable one around here?), she agrees to help.

but i can write a song 

“We’re not going to be called Jonny and the Patricks,” Jonny says, sounding entirely too put upon  about a name that’s clearly awesome.

[or; the high school band au you probably didn't ask for]

lost in brightness - pat, jon and a crowded train

“You’re gonna get caught one day,” Jonny sighs, herding Pat in front of him as they squeeze onto  the train, the crowd thicker than usual. It’s been raining on and off, fall well and truly taking the city in  its grasp. Jonny’s already looking forward to meeting Pat by his house every morning, red-cheeked  and rugged up, his face barely visible between his toque and scarf.

you're mending what's broken - a stats nerd Patrick story

The guy who sits behind Jonny in AP Stats wants to know how  many shots on goal he had last Tuesday. Or at least, that's how it starts.

A high school AU featuring stats nerd Kaner and his Tragic Hockey  Backstory (TM), without much time or inclination toward actual tragedy. Instead there is  discussion of Corsi. And kissing.

Examine Other Beauties by kiwoa - theater kids!

"I," Jonny says, and he slips his headset up from around his neck to nestle over his ears, "am not an actor."

"Good thing I don't need you to act."

"No."

"Jonny."

"Patrick."

"Please?" Kaner cants forward and tilts his face up to blink at Jonny. In the fluttering light that filters in from the stage, his eyes look unnaturally pale. "Just read the lines, okay? I want to see how well I've memorized them."

Jonny scrubs a hand over his face. The motion knocks his mike askew. "One scene."

A/S/L  ⭐ - 90s teenaged kids meeting on webcam omg

The internet is a dangerous place, or:

Patrick and Jonny meet, lie through their teeth, and fall in love. Mostly that last part.

Actual Prom King Brandon Saad by popfly  ⭐

Patrick might be a little jealous of the new kid.

Sure Brandon is basically the prom king from every feel-good teenage movie Patrick’s sisters have made him watch, but that doesn’t mean Jonny wants that.

Sign it with your heart by tictactoews + podfic by exmanhater  ⭐

Patrick loses a bet and is dared to plant an anonymous love letter into a random locker. It just so happens that the locker belongs to one Jonathan Toews, captain of the school hockey team.Meanwhile, Jonny finds himself in need of a math tutor, and following the advice of his teacher, he asks the new kid, Patrick Kane, for help.

a complicated kindness by liketheroad - young and figuring out d/s  ⭐

Patrick still remembers how scared Sharpy looked, just for a second there. He remembers not understanding why anyone would back away from Johnny when he was like that, why they wouldn’t want to strain closer, pushing to see how much further he’d go.

What Comes Easy by impertinence - summer camp of angst

Kaner's determined to never grow up; Tazer's determined to grow up as quickly as possible. Over eleven years of summer camp, they learn to meet in the middle. Set in stlkrchk's Camp Quaquanantuck universe.

mathletes are totally athletes by ukiyo91, yukonecho

Mathlete Patrick Kane never thought that when he was assigned to tutor hockey jock Jonathan Toews that he would be swept up into a new sport...or into Captain Serious.

Toews was like the guild leader Patrick had always aspired to be in WoW, but more of an asshole.

i'll be the embrace that keeps you warm by longtime_lurker - huddling for warmth

It is like death, but it is not death; lovelier. / Cold, inconvenienced, late, what will you do now / with the gift of your left life?

Clumsy by CoffeeKristin - a short first kiss fic uwu

“Knock it off,” she hissed at him. “He’s looking at you!”

“Who?” Patrick said, his head swiveling around, resulting in Erica smacking him again. “Hey! Quit hitting me!”

“Then quit being an idiot,” she huffed. “Jonny Toews, you dunce. He’s looking over here, and you’re biting on the string of your hoodie like a moron.”

look around once in a while by achilleees

One man’s struggle to take it easy.

Based off of “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off,” but instead of girlfriends and daddy issues, there’s hockey and pining. And daddy issues.

Summer Lovin' by CoffeeKristin - est. relationship insecurities

Patrick's home from summer camp, and Jonny's first on his list of to-do's. Somehow a little actual angst/plot worked it's way in. But mostly it's just porn.

Ninety-Nine Point Three Percent by jimtiberiuskirk - best friends mutually pining

The problem is, is that Patrick is 99.3% sure that Jonny knows all about his giant, embarrassing man-crush on him.

bring it if you really want it by staraflur - harry potter AU

It starts like this:

Well, okay, Patrick has no idea how it actually starts. But as pertains to him (in other words, the important part), it goes a little something like so:

America, being a nation composed in large part of a melting pot of immigrants who may or may not have taken over land already owned by others using less-than-savory means, doesn’t have much of a magical national identity. Much less a magical continental identity. There’s no grand heritage going back thousands of years. Magical families home-schooled all their kids until, like, the 1800’s, and tough for the muggle-born, apparently. Hopefully you got noticed by someone who knew what to do with you before you got burned at the stake. Since you probably can’t control your powers, sport.

(if you're feeling down) i can feel you up by hawkeytime

"Hey," Patrick said appreciatively from behind where Jonny stood, stoic as always, by the side of the pool. "Did you sit in a pile of sugar? Because you have a sweet ass.”Or: How Patrick Kane spent his summer hitting on the hot lifeguard with the help of some inspired (read: awful) pickup lines.

kiss and tell by hawkeytime 

“Trust me,” Sharpy says, “this will be good for you.”And then, he shoves Jonny into what appears to be a mostly empty coat closet and slams the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck, Sharp!” Jonny calls, pounding at the door which is, of course, locked.

“Enjoy your seven minutes in heaven, Tazer,��� Sharpy singsongs.Then, the bare bulb mounted on the ceiling flares to life, illuminating one Patrick Kane.

Fuck.

i know you are (but what am i) by booktubelover7 - always a girl!pat

Pat throws up her arms in celebration after Toews makes a beautiful goal off of Pat’s assist. She crows in celebration as Toews slams into her, shouting in her ear.

Pat’s playing, she’s playing, she’s playing. Not just that, but she’s winning too.When her line gets back to the bench, Pat leans over to speak into Toews’ ear. “Thank you,” she says. Her teammate just turns his head to look at her, a grin spreading across his face.

Love or Torture - a/b/o

Patrick Kane is too short, too Omega, and his heat too delayed for him to play hockey. Jonathan Toews has a plan to bring glory to both of them.

keep buying the stars by medusacascade22- teacher!Jonny 

“Fuck,” Jonny groans. He props his elbows up on his desk and lets his head fall into his hands. It’s going to be a long fucking year.

(or, in which Jonathan Toews is Patrick Kane's teacher, and shit gets real.)

College/Uni AUs

cello suite no. 1 - THIS IS ONE IS A CLASSIC 👌

The first time Jonathan meets Patrick Kane is because he hits him with a lacrosse ball.

In Jonathan's defense, he threw a perfect pass to Seabs, who failed to just reach the one or two feet above his head to catch it.

"Oh shit," Jonathan says when he watched the ball arc across the lawn and whack a blond kid squarely between his shoulder blades.

"Heads up!" he calls belatedly.

this is how we do it series by staraflur ⭐ - frat bros AU!!!

He doesn’t think Zeus is supposed to have a sword, but their Zeus does. So now Jonny does, because of course he’s in charge. He looks, Patrick is drunk enough to acknowledge, far better than anyone has a right to in a grody old Halloween costume that’s probably soaked up the butt sweat of dozens, if not hundreds, of Theta-presidents past. Jonny wears it, Patrick gets the sword. Win-win.

AKA that time there was a frat AU (of course).

This Heart Is Not For Wasting by fourfreedoms - oblivious best friends

Patrick puts his head in his hands. “How could this get any worse?”

“Wait, it’s not like, a big deal is it?” Duncs asks, looking at him and Jonny in turn. “The way you and Jonny are weird about each other? She’s gotta have made her peace with it ages ago.”

A college AU.

love song for love songs by boodreaus  ⭐ - angst, internalized homophobia

“Right,” Jonny says. “Cool.” He seems to hesitate, pausing when Patrick goes for the door handle, and then, right as Patrick’s bracing himself to run for the house, Jonny says, “You should come.”

Patrick turns back at him and is handed a piece of paper. “To our next show, I mean,” Jonny is saying as Patrick examines what turns out to be a flyer, thick black lettering taking up every square inch of space on the brilliant sunshine-colored surface. “It’s tomorrow night, at the showcase. Feel free to say yes or no or whatever. If you don’t know, it’s cool.”

“I’ll,” Patrick starts, and then stops, blinking up at him. Jonny’s just watching him, kind of, elbow resting on the steering wheel. “Maybe,” he finally says, and Jonny smiles.

yet we will make him run - some more angst, except more erudite

Kaner the English Lit major AU.

Sigma Chi series by hatrickane - frat bros hook up and then angst about it

Jonny and Patrick run into each other at a frat party. Patrick proposes a way to pass the time.

Can't Wait by LouLa - first time pwp

Pat's on a hair trigger.

when you flex like that - hookup in a frat party

Johnny isn’t drunk, but he does let Sharpy and a couple of frat-looking guys he doesn’t even know talk him into a contest of shots. It’s Sharpy’s fault — he appeals to the competitive side he knows Johnny can’t let go of at the best of times, and one of the guys, blonde curls, a lazy smirk of a grin, picks up on it pretty fast too.

Hope you don't mind by haroldslouis

“Oh, sorry, man,” the guy says, giving him a quick grin. “Thought you were someone else.” He taps the visor of Patrick’s snapback and just like that, he turns around and disappears into the crowd.Patrick doesn’t know how long he stands there, just looking at the general direction he disappeared in.

or, 5 times Jonny mistook Patrick for someone else + 1 time he definitely didn't

Room 4 Rent

Patrick stares at the ad for a while, clicking back and forth between the Craigslist page and his  fantasy hockey league, chewing on his bottom lip.

3 bedroom apartment near Loyola. One room available, others occupied by two male students.  Shared living room and kitchen. Two bathrooms. Rent split three ways. Email tazer19@gmail.com  or call 773-639-7812 for more info. No texts please.

are you buying what i'm selling? - frat party buddies

The Sigma Chi Halloween Bash is in a week, Jonny’s holding two tickets, and he has nobody to go with.

He had a somebody to go with, until that somebody decided Jonny’s student athlete life wasn’t worth  hanging around for. Their relationship was already tanking anyway; Jonny’s more upset about  potentially wasting a $40 ticket than that shit ending. Whatever.

Just A Spark by heartstrings  ⭐ - magical realism!

In a desperate attempt to hide his feelings from the object of his affections, Patrick accidentally drinks a love potion that causes the people around him to fall for him. Too bad it seems to work on everyone but Jonny.

do you know who you are? by liveinfury - frat bros

“Sure, Cap. I’ll try to keep it quiet.” Patrick winks at Jonny. “But be honest, you like the noises I make, huh?”

“What? Of course not!" Jonny sputters. "I’m not gay!”

(or where Jonny can't figure out why he feels so uneasy when Patrick brings guys home to their frat house).

The Great Desk Assembly Project - they were roommates

“I’m going to nail some shit,” he says. “Jonny, come watch me nail some shit.”

“We share a room, I don’t need to watch you nail anything else.”

“That’s not what you were saying last night,” Pat says with a laugh in his voice. He reaches back  behind him and punches Jonny in the shoulder for good measure.

No, It's Not A Secret by SimoneClouseau ⭐ - always a girl Jonny 

Hey, hey, you, you, I don't like your boyfriend. No way, no way. I think you need a new one.

Jehanne Toews is dating a loser. Sometimes it takes a ridiculous awesome young star on the Blackhawks to see the light.

good form - always a girl Pat!  ⭐ 

“Best head of your life?”

“Yes, he was better than you, you competitive motherfucker.” Hayds says it like it’s a joke, like it’s funny, like it’s not the single most devastating thing a girl could say to Pat.

“A hockey bro gave you the best head of your goddamn life? Am I in the fucking Upside Down?”

“Believe it, baby. Jonathan Toews: hockey bro and magical pussy-eating wizard.”

forever i'll try for you and i by staraflur - always girls Jon and Pat!

It’s extra great—whenever Jo’s losing, she always makes like their running point tally competition isn’t real. Tonight’s true to form: when Trish holds up three fingers and points at herself, then two before pointing at Jo, Jo actually scoffs as she pokes at a couple chicken breasts with the tongs, trying to find the best one.

remedial at love - jonny ‘i'm great at math but the math tutor's really hot so i'm gonna pretend i'm not' toews

There have been a lot of things Kaner’s done that could be considered suspect. He chose the  Backstreet Boys over Nsync for the Kane Dance-Off Championship when he was 15. He opted to go  to Disneyland instead of Disney World for his high school graduation present. He frosted his tips after  coming out in 12th grade because he thought that was like, the obvious thing to do until he realized  this was not, in actuality, the 90s.

But this one. Calling up ‘Jtoews’ and requesting tutelage in math when he was a fucking wiz at math  was -- the most highly suspect of all.

Drink yourself under, fuck yourself over by Mythisea

Jonathan Toews is the sophomore captain of the college hockey team. Patrick Kane recently quit hockey before coming to college.

Jonny thinks Patrick would be perfect on his wing. Patrick would rather be drinking. Jonny does not approve.

Make The Moves Up As I Go by agirlnamedfia - tutor!Jonny with a dash of angst and pining

Patrick has his first Econ 202 class on the second day of the spring semester. It doesn’t exactly go well.

how to make boys-next-door out of assholes series by bessyboo, thisissirius - textfic

Yo man, Sharpy's having a party tonight. You up for it or you gonna be a boring shit and study???

it's only you and me by crystaljules - graduation blues

"We're so fucking stupid."

Overdosed on Confidence by runphoebe ⭐ - fwb, internalized homophobia

“Someone could -,” Jonny starts, breaking off when Patrick ducks down to draw Jonny’s lips against his, kissing him fever-hot and wet and desperate. Jonny’d be embarrassed by how hungrily he responds, but he knows Pat’s into it, moaning unashamedly into Jonny’s mouth when he tightens a hand around Pat’s neck. “Someone could see,” he finally gets out, voice rough, when Patrick pulls back, as if Patrick’s supposed to believe that that’s any sort of protest.

Patrick licks his lips, the hint of a smirk playing at the corners of them in that familiar way like when Patrick's got a particularly bad idea on his mind. “Guess you better be quick then, huh?” he says cryptically, waggling his eyebrows at Jonny. Jonny’s a second away from rolling his eyes and asking what he means when Patrick slithers off Jonny’s lap and onto his knees on the floor beneath Jonny’s table and - oh. Oh.

Silence Gives You Space by liveinfury - pining, misunderstandings

“Have you been avoiding me?”

“’Course not,” Patrick says. “I’m just letting you do your own thing.”

“My own thing?”

“Yeah, didn’t want to crowd your space,” Patrick blurts out. Fuck, he didn’t mean to actually say that.“You’re not…”

“Cool.”

tuck you in - getting together

“You sexiled again?" He smirks and stuffs down the fondness that rolls  through him at theway Jonny’s hair is rumpled and a little bit wavy.

Jonny sits up slowly, groaning. “Yeah. Fuck, this is the third time in a week  and a half.”

obvious from the start - radio DJs Pat and Jon!

It’s not like Patrick even likes radio, because he hasn’t really listened to  anything that’s not on his iPod or his Pandora stations in years, but when he notices the red and  white flyer advertising the student radio station on the ground, he picks it up with the  excuse that he’s trying to be environmentally friendly.When he played hockey they told Patrick that he was too small, too short to  be a hockeyplayer; that he’d never make it because of his size. Hockey is, was, his heart  and soul, and he’d put years and years of his life into the one thing he knew he was good  at; threw his very being into the best he could be to prove that he can do it, be the best,  even if he was small.

Patrick supposes maybe he'll find something else that he’s just as good at.

stupid college boys series by 19trash88 - Jonny is the cute guy from Econ class

Patrick’s not one to wax poetic about a penis, but if ever there was a reason to, Jonathan Toews’ cock would be at the top of the list.

Green Light by heartstrings - friends to lovers

Patrick knows two things: he likes sex and he likes Jonny. If Jonny's newly single there's no reason not to combine the two. Right?

Everybody Wants to Touch Some(body Paragraphs) by Kerfluffle  ⭐

Wherein Jonny writes the worst essay ever, and weirdness abounds.

Motivation by somethingnerdythiswaycomes  ⭐ - pwp

Only Jonny could keep working on his LIT-110 paper while Patrick was getting himself off next to him. Fuck, but Patrick loved him so much.

Muse series by by somethingnerdythiswaycomes

So Jonny had applied for every damn job he was qualified for, even the "life model" one TJ goaded him into.So Jonny had received an email the next day asking for his availability to come in for a session.So, as it turned out, it wasn’t some random chick that was going to draw him. It was some random dude.

So "life model" apparently meant "nude model."

You Love Me, I Love You Harder So by leyley09 - overly competitive boys on the hockey team

Patrick circles around him at center ice. “Jonathan, my team is going to kick your team’s ass so hard your parents will be embarrassed without even knowing why.”“I’m gonna give you a lesson in goal scoring you’ll never forget.”“Toews, you couldn’t give me a lesson in long distance spitting. Anything you can do, I can do better.”“Oh yeah?”“I can do anything better than you.”

Jonathan Toews is used to be being the best. He has zero clue what to do with competition.

Especially when the competition is cute.

middle ground by boodreaus - college road trip, friends to lovers

Jonny, Patrick, and an excellent adventure.

Who Knew by themistrollsin

Jonathan and Patrick meet after they're forced to go to a party by their best friends (Adam and Brent respectively).

Night Moves by heartstrings - meetcute

After a series of unfortunate drunk events that lead him from falling into a snowbank to being laughed at by the police, Jonny meets Patrick in an elevator.

Ignite My Fire, Object Of My Desire by ThalassicThedes ⭐- theater boys!!!

A good ol' fashioned College Au in which the college itself is hardly even mentioned. Just... make of this what you will.

absolute beginners by heartstrings, thundersquall

That time Jonny walked into a diner and accidentally got himself a temporary fake boyfriend.

Like A Classic - royalty!Jonny

So: due to a series of complicated and improbable events involving some sort of life debt and signed promise from two generations ago, it was decreed that Patrick had to marry the Crown Prince of Canada.

Captain Oblivious by wantstothrill - royalty!Pat

Why would Jonny care about the American royal family visiting his university? He's Canadian. He hasn't paid any attention to Prince Patrick since he was a teenager. He's more concerned with the very hot guy he's just run into, who's name also happens to be Patrick. What a coincidence.

+

check out the high school AUs tag aaand the college AUs tag @ 1988rebloggedfic!

[morganalefays]

which countries have you visited? and what were your favorite parts of them?

I have been to a lot of countries but not spent that much time in any of them so theres still a ton to see! but here are some things i loved about the places i have visited.

China (Shanghai, Hangzhou, Suzhou) china was sooooo cool. so unlike anything im used to. i could say many nice things but one thing is that they had these insane nightclubs, i have a video somewhere of me sitting on a curb digging silver confetti out of my bra

India (Goa) Definitely one of the most beautiful places i’ve been, all the flowers, trees and greenery were unreal

Egypt (Hurghada, Cairo) ok can i be honest with you guys........ i was probably most starstruck by seeing the pyramid of chephren BECAUSE we had to play this math PC game all the time in 8th grade where you were supposed to break out of the pyramid and when i saw it i was like wow i can’t believe i won the game

USA (San Francisco) i was obsessed with the redwood forests and san francisco really is unapologetically A LOT

Israel (Jerusalem, Bethlehem) i’ve never been somewhere more loaded with energy than Jerusalem. so much culture, religion and history. obviously a lot of that comes form tragedy and conflict but its a town that means a lot to many people and you can really feel that

Finland (Helsinki) i was only in helsinki for a day, but i love the palette of the city if that makes sense. like the colours and the architecture feels very fitting for its geographical location.

Denmark (Copenhagen) i go to copenhagen every year cause its just really easy to go over the day from where my grandparents live. Tivoli (an amusement park) is so magical to me and i just love the atmosphere even if i don’t go on any ride.

United Kingdom (London, Glasgow, Edinburgh) i’m so impressed with british theatre, i’v’e seen a few plays in london and they’ve all been really good. i feel like the culture around going to the theatre is much less elitist than in my country as well.

Iceland (Reykjavik) i think im gonna have to go live in reykjavik at some point. i just felt really at home in iceland. the nature is so beautiful it makes you want to cry this is some fantasy shit.

Germany (Berlin, Cologne) i like in germany how the history is always so present and made a part of the cities identity instead of hiding it away.

France (Paris, Bordeaux) france to me kind of really lives up to what you imagine france to be like. like “here’s a beautiful little town from the 12th century surrounded by winerys”. also had an absurd experience of going to a wine tasting with a class of 17 year olds

Spain (Tarragona) tapas!!!! my friend’s boyfriend who is from the region ordered all the food and showed us what is good which is really helpful when you’re a clueless swedish person (but also omg never getting used to eating dinner at like 10? he’d be like let’s eat and im like.... its bedtime)

Portugal (Lisbon, Sintra) sintra is something taken out of a fairytale! we did like three castles in one day and i loved every single one of them

Italy (Rome, Venice, Florence, Bologna) if you love history, languages, religion and art like i do, italy is a fucking DREAM. you’ll just walk around and like stumble on the colloseum or something. i came upon this closed off ruin with like a million cats running around and i read the sign and it was just like “this is where caesar was murdered”

Russia (St. Petersburg) i was there with my russian class in high school and i fell in love with st petersburg, but especially seeing the winter palace was magical to me. and random but the metro stations are amazing? i vividly remember one with like whole ass chandeliers in it

Greece (a few different islands) i’m just gonna say it... greek people are very hot. also there are some really nice beaches

Turkey (Bodrum) all turkish people i have visited are so generous and loving and make the best food

[spacemilkies]

and the times keep turning

summary: 

by the age of thirteen, ben learned to stop asking for things he wasn’t going to get

until he met you

word count: 8k+

a/n: I figured I’d just go for the full AU. Still a bit of canon angst but we’re in this for the fluff(ish)

Ben tells himself that he isn’t staring (even with Klaus snickering to his right). But he’s too fixated to bring up a complaint. So he raises a hand, wrist still angry red and marked with a curse shining fresh, under the dull light of the dingy donut cafe in dismissal. It would be so easy to walk over. For once, he’s not crowded in the center of the booth and free to move independently. Naturally, he won’t though. Even when the universe is working against his decision. The restaurant feels less ventilated than it ever has. Even with the help of inconsistent opening and closing of the entry door. The air feels humid and hot, the overall discomfort of it all creeping under his clothing like an itch. He knows he looks ridiculous, jaw slack and accompanied by a wide look of wonderment. He certainly knows he feels like it, the tempo of his heart beating against his chest rattling his bones. It’s so simple. Even when his conscious insists that it’s not. All because it’s you. 

 You’re with a friend.  Just one.  But he can tell you’re close from the way the two of you lean in together. Sharing laughter and smiles. If he had the capacity to feel any other emotion than infatuation, he might have felt envy. Not just because your friend was so near to you. But because of the obvious relationship the two of you shared. Friendship was still a foreign concept to all of them. He’d like to have friends. Maybe one day. After you. Klaus is back again and Ben barely registers the weight of his arm on his shoulder. Yeah, he might look like a creep. But he’s been a freak all his life, whats one more title. Klaus is close. So close Ben vibrates as he pipes up in his ear. “She’s cute.” And Ben wants to scoff. Argue. Come to your defense in anyway he can. Because you’re not just cute. You’re beautiful. Amazing. Ethereal. (yes he knows what that means. He read about it once.) Everything he wants, even though he doesn’t quite comprehend any of those words to their greatest extent. Though he’s certain you’d blow them all out of the water. “You should talk to her.” Ben is happy that Klaus is adopting a softer tone for once. He doesn’t need his theatrics drawing any attention to himself. “No.” “Why not?” “No, Klaus.” “She can’t be worse than the monsters you’ve seen.” It comes as a joke. But Klaus is so right. So so right. Ben is the monster. And monsters never get the princess in the happy ever after. “Oh, does Benny have a crush?” Five’s voice is chased by a sharp jab to his side. With a little less training, Ben might have doubled over. He still might as the rest of his siblings chime in as they catch on. “Who is it?” “Ben has a crush?” “That’s so cute.” “Father would never approve.” Father would never approve of your love for Allison, Ben wants to quip back. But then he thinks, maybe he would? Being grandfather of super babies might even get the old man to smile. Diego managed to make it around the table before Ben could catch up with his movements, throwing an arm around his neck and dragging him out of his seat. The little restaurant is never very packed, so its easy to draw the attention of the room. For now he’s safe though. A booth of rambunctious thirteen year olds draws more shakes of the head than shows of concern. Ben thinks he sees your gaze dart over briefly. “Bro …you hav-” Diego slips up briefly but manages to carry though with determination. “Go. Don’t be the last one waiting for your first kiss.” Ben blinks, before squinting at the challenge. As far as he knew, they were all of equal standing. “Guys, just stop. Please.” It’s a futile attempt. They continue egging him on, somehow bringing even Vanya into the mix. They get louder until Ben finds himself pressured out of premature mortification than anything else. They send him off with a cheer and he deems them all assholes. You don’t see him coming, but your friend does. They seem attentive in a way that Ben thinks they caught on a long time ago. Ben swallows thickly ready to embarrass himself and move on but they beat him to it. “Aren’t you from that academy ? Umbrella or something ?” Ben’s first instinct is to shield his tattoo. A modern day taboo on a child his age. But he’s too late because now you’ve seen it too now. Twisting in your seat, he finally sees more than a glimpse. In actuality, you’re not perfect. Up close you’re human. There is no celestial light or singling angels. But you do have an adorable button nose and dimples poking at your cheeks. You smile. And he mirrors it with a level of ease he’s never attempted. “Hey, dude- did you hear me?” He does. But now you’re opening your mouth to speak and he could care less about anyone else.  Your voice is an addictive timber as your eyes dart down to inspect his covered wrist. Recognition ages slowly on your features as you come to terms with everything. “You all were at that fire a few weeks ago.” Ben remembers it. Much more vividly because he had little to do with that day and he’s glad it’s your first recollection. You don’t remember him as the monster who easily tore men to shreds. You probably barely recalled his presence but that’s okay. It was a fresher start than he was expecting. “Uh, yeah sometimes we save people?” It sounds cheesy but you laugh and suddenly he understands the meaning of butterflies. You thank him even though you were no where in the vicinity and knew no one from the tragedy. He accepts your invitation to sit even when you both know he didn’t come alone. But he doesn’t care. You ask questions. A lot of them actually but they’re good ones. You ask about his favorite color. If he has any pets. What he thinks about 7th grade math. Later, you walk away knowing more than he’s told anyone ever. But he knows your name. And a chance to see you again. And he feels like the winner. 

It had taken three tries to successfully meet up for a proper meet up (a date). That fateful night had been a casual occurrence for the Umbrella Academy, but for you and your friend it had been a stretch on your own curfew.

At the age of thirteen, Ben was still very much under the thumb of his father. But as he later learned with Klaus’ help, it was much easier to sneak out as an individual rather than a group. 

What it really came down to were the missions.

For a moment, Ben was actually worried that his father had caught on. The alarm always seemed to go off just before he was meant to meet with you.

But tonight was different. He’d managed to make it onto the street without a problem.

When he found you were equally as nervous, toeing unsurely outside of the little cafe. Ben’s apprehension was slightly more geared to the tall individual looming just a few feet short of you, obviously taking him in all his entirety.

With a laugh you introduced the third wheel as your cousin, a necessary excuse to let you out alone. With a staged whisper, you’d promised him that he would keep his distance.

And he did, but his gaze apparently wasn’t part of the deal.

Ben squirmed uncomfortably while trying to down his milkshake without choking. He was happy to be sat by the window, relying on the distraction of passerbys at each polite opportunity. Sometimes impolite when necessary.

“So-um, you look pretty.” He felt silly mentioning now, more than twenty minutes into your outing but he’d been too scared to chance it with an additional set of ears. To think he’d taken down men twice his size and still managing to be intimidated.

Your head bowed, cheeks heating at the compliment. It was a subtle warmth, just barely adding color to your skin. But your gron was the real winner.

Shyly you poke at your straw, coaxing it into a slow circle. “You do too,” you add with a bit more confidence. “It’s different, seeing you out of your uniform.

He was less recognizable too. With his sleeves pulled taught to his wrists, he was just like any other kid on the street. Something he rarely got to experience, especially away from his siblings.

Ben’s returning smile is more reserved with a half shrug,” We don’t always have to wear it.”

“Are you really a superhero?”

His lips pull taut, and unrecognizable look on his face as he considered your question. Was he a hero?

Luther fit the look of a hero. Even Diego accepting the title with his own flair. Allison and Five had their own style but he-

It didn’t matter the mission.

No particular scenario.

Somehow he was always doused in blood.

His own cape.

Sometimes it felt more like the cloak of a villain.

He jumps at the touch of your hand, finding your gaze teetering between comfort and apologetic.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Ben thinks you’ll pull away. Leave it at that. But your hand stays, your fingers tapping a distracting staccato on his knuckles that he found himself craving. By focusing on it he managed to chase away the self depreciating thoughts.

“My mom always says everyone a hero as long as you make a positive change. And from what I can see you guys are helping a lot of people.”

It’s not enough, but it’s something to hold on to.

Ben can’t remember the last time he felt something reach out that wasn’t from within.

It’s three months after your first kiss that Five goes missing. 

He doesn’t tell you at first because he thinks his brother will come back. They all do. Because it’s Five. 

Reckless but reliable. He’s the smartest of them all, so of course he can find his way back to them. You’d only had the short pleasure of meeting him from odd occasions and late night donut excursions. So you believed it too. But a month goes by and Ben’s breaking. Nothing is getting better. His father doesn’t stop sending them on missions. So he cracks a little more. More people die. Most by his tact and phantom limbs. There’s blood and gore. And he finally shatters.

“How do you do it ?”

When you aren’t tempted by sticky donuts or overcrowded booths, the two of you sneak away to your peaceful oasis. You’re fifteen now with a little more freedom.

Autumn is your favorite time to visit the overlook. The whispers of winter creating a nice enough breeze to accompany the glittering lights of the city below.

You’re leaning back on your hands, your legs casually slung over your boyfriend’s lap.

Ben had been quiet when you’d brought up the question. But in truth he’d been wordless for weeks leading up to now. His touch was less too, as if he thought the briefest affection would scorch your essence.

For longer than you’d like, you had rolled with the change. Unable to do anything but allow the gap to get wider as you bid your time just trying to understand.

Klaus had been tight lipped about the subject, but it turned out that you didn’t need words for an explanation. You could see the haunting look in his eyes.

It was the first time you began to wonder, had Superman ever broken down?

Ben’s little finger twitches against your own it he doesn’t follow the urge. His gaze strays for a second,” Do what?”

No playful guess, or ticklish prodding. Just a dry response.

You try to fill the void, offering a timid smile that trembles. This was a deep dive for your relationship and he was so far under.

What happened if you couldn’t make it back to the surface?

Your hand clenched around the ground before extending, gaining just enough to brush his fingertips. He hesitates but doesn’t pull away yet.

“Do all the stuff you do ?” Biting the inside of your cheek, you feed off the pain to root your resolve. “You’ve been doing this so long but … Ben- does it hurt being a superhero?”

“Yeah, it hurts.” It starts off slow. A few pebbles sprinkling from above.

You don’t expect him to answer. To hear his voice crumble, rocks sliding together in a downpour of emotion.

“Were not invincible- except maybe Luther. But it doesn’t fucking matter because we’re kids. He forgets that we’re children who didn’t ask for this.”

Your hand hovers at his back, trying to find the right time to intervene with comfort.

“But he bought us fair and square so I guess it’s his choice, right ?”

Your legs slid against his as you decide instead to give him space. The stout pillar of sadness was degrading into a pile of salt.

But he catches you by the waist before you can move, your gasp heating his cheek as he drags you closer. This time your legs part to let him in, arms confident as the looped around his neck.

This is the closest you’ve been in weeks and it feels so good.

“No, Ben, it’s not okay. “

But you’re only fifteen and with all the power between you, you can’t change anything.

You’re brushing just above the waters of seventeen and not much is better. But you understand Ben more. Think you’re more equipped to help. It never escaped you that he may be touch starved. Such a tender gift that weighed heavily with social implications. But you wanted to give it to him. Because you loved him. And most importantly wanted to believe he loved you back. It was reckless but your parents were out and honestly you could give a damn about the rest. The kisses were too hot, the touch’s only providing more sparks to the flame. Ben moved the two of you from the doorway, to the wall until the back of your knees bucked against your bed. You were more focused on getting as many layers off as you could during the travel time. Swallow his little moans of protest when your actions blocked a kiss or the tangle of clothing halted his hands. But nor here you were at the meeting point, both goals accomplished in full. Lips swollen, bodies stripped to the bare necessities and flushed in anticipation.  Biting your cheek, you reached out to map out the plane of his abs. Dressed comfortably in hoodies and loose clothing, Ben made it hard for you to remember that you were dating a superhero. A boy being cultivated into a man with vigorous training. Gripping the single strand of boldness between the both you, Ben took your free hand, drawing it loser in exploration as his lips attached your neck. The two of you shared a mixed groan of appreciation: you at the suction against your throat and him moshing at the tentive palming of his bulge. The two of you weren’t strangers to the taste of pleasure. Buye this would be the first time that you forgo the limited trials and accepted the full package. The spontaneously of it all had been tainted by a bit of planning , necessary actions for privacy. But now it was finally here. The boy you’d fallen in love with at the age of thirteen, settled firmly if not a little anxiously between your legs. His hands ran along the length of them carefully as he voiced his concerns,” Are you sure about this?” You captured his wavering hands, threading your fingers together. You were both bound to be nervous. It was a first for you each. But not the first taste of fresh experiences for either. You’d been each other’s first kiss. First date. First significant other. First love. And now- Nor you were never more sure of anything in your life. “As long as it’s with you. I can face everything with you at my side. “ His lips quirk in that soft little smile and you knew the worst of his worries were settled. Letting him go, you brought him back into a kiss, encouraging him to lead at his own pace. You swallowed the urge to flinch at the first touch of his fingers curling under the band of your panties not wanting to reignite any anxiousness. Instead you encourage with a roll of your hips, expressing your consent. It’s not the first time he’s touched you there and the confidence is present, if not weighted down slightly from the added implications. But it felt food, and you made sure to let him know as much. Your lips quirk when the tips of his ears redder in response to your breathy call of his name. Moaning came easy when his string fingers dipped into you, his thumb not idle as it stroked you. “Hm, condom?” You remember thoughtfully, not too far gone to forgot common sense. You’re thankful when his fingers remain in you as he reaches over your head. From the new angle you award yourself with a kiss, humming and grinding down on his fingers. You’re no expert on what’s wet enough but you think you know your body enough to want to try. Rolling your eyes, you snatch the square before your boyfriend could attempt to free the rubber with his teeth. The last thing either of you needed was a tear. A soft gasp left you when his hand left you without warning, needing both hand to free himself of his boxers. When the condom was freed without injury you did the same to yourself, completely bare to one another for the first time. “So we’re really doing this?” With a deep breath you confirmed shyly,” Yeah. “ Getting the confirm on properly was a little awk arc and way too many hands were used. There were a few giggles here and there and ticklish touches to guide them. Timid glances. Accelerated heartbeats. One more deep breath. And a push. Your thighs quaked against your bodies internal battle to abort. It stung a bit but it wasn’t as bad as your friends made it out to be. Ben was Attentive as always, delivering wet kisses until you gave him the okay. Your nails bit into the meat of his arm but he never complained. When you looked up, his eyelids were wrinkled from the pressure of holding them together. Your grip loosened to a caresses as you checked in, “Ben? Are you okay?” One eye blinked open, his face a mix of s grimace and pure bliss,” This is going to sound really cliche but you’re sososo tight and I think I’m going to come.” You laughed, genuinely laughed at his ‘pain’, head thrown back in the act. Yeah, you two were going to be okay. 

High school isn’t a breeze but it gusts by like August wind. All too soon you’re ordering your cape and gown and wondering about college. Like everyone else you’re unsure, a little scared but somehow excited all at the same time. Ben is leaned in close, resting his head on your shoulder while you scroll through your emails. There’s nothing new there. Hasn’t been for the last half hour but you refresh every few seconds just in case. It’s the unofficial acceptance day and most of your friends know where they’re going, except you. Ben strokes your arm from your bicep to your elbow, dry lips scratching the underside of your jaw as he leaves a short kiss,” They haven’t forgotten about you,” he assures. You know they haven’t. Because they can just as easily reject you. But Ben, the ever consistent and loving boyfriend, is determined to distract you properly. His limber fingers plunk your phone away from you even as you complain. “I didn’t buy you a milkshake just to watch it melt. I’ll keep an eye on the mail.” You’re too weak to challenge him, especially when he’s kissing you in reassurance. So you huff and purse your lips fro the straw. Ben was right. It’s good and it brings you a little comfort. That and the way his hands absentmindedly play with your hair. As promised, from the corner of your eye you spot his thumb dragging across the screen of your phone every few minutes. You’re halfway down the strawberry bliss when he speaks. But it’s not with news. “You’re great whatever college you get into. You know that right?” You do, but that’s not the reason for your stress. It just so happened that the school of your choice came about to be one of the highest ranked in academics. But you weren’t chasing the prestige. You just wanted to stay. Rooted in the same city that brought you into the same life you couldn’t see yourself without. It just helped that schools status made your parents proud. They could look past you remaining for the sake of your boyfriend when they knew you were in a top tier university. But it was all riding on you getting in this one. Because your second choice was hundreds of miles away. Ben of course reassured you that the relationship would be fine. He never wanted anyone other than the girl he met at thirteen. It was sweet but the world was sour. And he had a dangerous life. Nothing was certain. And everything- Ben’s thumb stops. And you close your eyes knowing he’s hovering over the first unopened email you had in days. For a moment it’s quiet and then he’s kissing you. It’s a very Ben kiss. Slow encompassing. One he used to give and seek comfort. And it leaves you wanting to cry. “Baby..” You’d planned meticulously for your life to fold one way. Preferably around the two of you, shrouding each other from the rest of the world. His hands cup your cheek and you know he’s urging you to open them. But you can’t. “Baby, you got in. “

The soft click of your front door turning puts you on edge. Your hand tightening around the feeble defense of a wooden spoon. Edging against the shadows of the wall, you refrain from the urge to call out- because honestly, who the fuck does that? You’re perched, ready to strike- When Ben rounds the corner catching on to your intentions with a delayed widen of his eyes. “Really? A spoon. “ With a huff, you clamber off the stool a little put off that your boyfriend wasn’t nearly as confident in your skills as you were. You couldn’t all be super powered. “You could have at least texted asshole.” Since you’d reached the age of independence, you traded the comfort of your parents home for the benefit of living a bit closer to the university you were attending. At first they’d been worried, especially at the prospect of you living alone. You didn’t think assuring them that a superhero often took up lodgings and you weren’t in complete solitude. Of course they knew about Ben. But as far as the rest of the world knew, he was busy with the Umbrella academy. Except for the few times he wasn’t, and sought solace in the little pocket of peace you provided for him. You didn’t care when he showed up, granting him a key to emphasize your point. As long as he gave you a heads up. That was really the summation of your brief list of rules. The moment you got use to him just sliding in, was the moment the same went for anyone..

“Sorry,” his mumble came dry and not too apologetic. The sixteen year old you might have been more understanding. Young and still fresh in the whirlwind of love. But at twenty-one, now you finally caught up in the adult world. You had classes to worry about, grades to maintain to hold on to your scholarship. An assistantships to help pay the bills. In a position where you have so much, you’d earned  the position to ask. You would have been more willing to curl into his request of comfort, ready to mutually accept and give what you needed most right now. But his curt response edged with unconquered aggression only sparked the flint of your smoking irritation. “I’m sorry, did the big bad Horror show get his tentacles twisted ?” Dark eyes flash and you know immediately that’s you’re rousing a haggard beast. Too bad the comfort of knowing that same beast for some odd years belittled the warning. “I’m not in the mood tonight.” Bringing your hands to your hips, you show no signs of backing down. “Neither is the rest of the world- which surprise!- still manages to revolve with or without you.” His body shudders, or maybe it’s a quake? Either one brings flighty hands into a tight clench as he sways unhelpfully on his dark hoody. Another thing you weren’t looking forward too. Ben had adopted the habit of tossing his clothing in with your loads without warning. Often mixing colors or ruining them with stains. Squinting, you couldn’t make out any foreign material but it wouldn’t surprise you to find some blood disguised in the dark lining. “Not yours though.” His time is sharp but also something else. “Your world would stop, because mine would too. ” The fight was still there. You certainly had it in you to go quite a few rounds. Like a lot of things in your relationship. Fighting with Ben was easy. He wasn’t just a compliant punching bag that took the jabs and rolled with them. In fact he was worse. Having triple the amount of siblings push sparing with him quite a few notches  above your weight class. Unfortunately a championship belt valued for little and in the end you both settled separately in misery until the threads tightened and sew the two of you back together again. The stitching wasn’t always perfect but you were my ended and had something to look back on. So here you prepared yourself. Ready to swing through the motions and hopefully leave the one beaten but still standing. But Ben just stood there, nails digging into his palms. “Can we just-“ “Not?” You finished helpfully, hopefully. Nodding quietly, Ben left you standing there to drag himself into one of the chairs of the island counter. His sleeves dragged against the counter to leaning- yep definitely needed to use a detergent for blood tonight. The lack of a fight somehow left you more exhausted than an actual one but you still managed to work through dinner. It was over a fork full of pasta that you considered your boyfriend with a critical eye. It always occurred to you why he didn’t leave the estate. College had been a whim of an aspiration for him.  But if he wanted to could he really? You were all still so young, barely reaching the height of adulthood. But you were managing so far. There was no reason why he couldn’t as well. “Have you all though about moving out?” His fork freezes and you worry you’re about to ignite something. But his voice is quiet. “And go where ?”

For awhile it calms down. Your second year of college was a smooth transition into your third. And now you have a better idea of how you plan to mold your life. The July sun is searing reminder that summer is almost over. Something you’re both excited about and dreading. You’d spent the last two months a few hundred miles away on an internship. It’d been the furthest you’d ever been from home. And equally the longest you’d been from Ben. With a clink, your front door opens and your luggage slumped against the entrance of your apartment. The end of your trip wasn’t your only relief. Coming back to see your apartment in one piece had been the greatest stress reliever. With another year still left under your belt, there had been no reason to let go of your lease. But with the internship, this was the first time you hadn’t occupied your home. You considered renting it out, a suggestion from your father to gain a bit of revenue. But that required moving your things out, which frankly defeated the whole purpose. Besides. Why waste the effort when you had a house sitter on call? “Guys?” Kicking your bags out of the way, you let the door close behind you as you ventured further into the flat. It was quiet in a way that made you a bit anxious. Ben had known you’d be in time around this time. You parents had insisted on picking you up so you had him forgo the effort of meeting you at the airport. It made sense for him to wait here for you but it wouldn’t surprise you to find him out with his family on some excursion. Or what was left of the team. From what he’d filled you in on, only Luther, Diego, Ben and Klaus were left. Allison’s disappearance spoke for itself. You’d come across more than a few promotional ads for her first role in an upcoming movie. It was shocking to say the least, to find out your childhood friend was on the cusp of a celebrity lifestyle. But as one of the Umbrella kids, you supposed they all were. With nothing but her academics, Vanya had been the first to move out to pursue. Very little was known about her personal progression. According to Ben, no one was concerned enough to pry. So in the revelation of the academy growing into their own shoes, it made sense for Klaus and Ben to enjoy a bit of freedom. One you were happy to give as long as it didn’t come at the price of a lost security deposit. For some reason you were hesitant to turn on any light, thinking it might ruin some indiscernible setting. The setting sun was still high enough to provide you some light, the soft glow equal to the glimmer of the bulb above the stove. Yet it was somewhat unsettling to think that they were here. Surely they would have picked up on your presence by now. The training they’d suffered through would have managed to hone their skills that much. The hunt of your small flat was short lived, coming short of your bedroom where your inconspicuous house guests lay scattered in your living room. Klaus managed to once again fit himself uncomfortably into the chair under the window. His head craned in a way that hinted he’d been chasing the sun until its descent. One of your throw bellow wedged under his arm instead of behind his back. You were almost urged to drape a blanket over him. But he was so quiet. You weren’t referring to the light scores rumbling against her throat of course. But the lack of shifting, the absence of mutters and heartbreaking screams. In the wake of everything you’d known about Klaus was the perfect image of peace. “Hey, sweetheart.” There was a shuffle of clothing as Ben rose from underneath the mounds of your knitted cover. He’s yawning around a languid smile, drawing you near with a lazy beckon. It’s the the welcome home you’ve been waiting all day for. His laugh warms you, curling around your body as you straddle his waist and bring your arms around him. The kisses are light and noiselessly, intentionally formed so not go disturb the still slumbering occupant. Ben’s lips brush your cheek as you take in the rare sight again. “He looks so at peace,” you comment quietly. Ben hums in agreement and you shift to accommodate as he slouch’s back into the cushions. Helpfully, you gather the blankets back around you. “Been like this all summer. ” He kisses your raised brow and tucks you closer,” I’ll explain in the morning. But this was a good idea for both of us.” You fall asleep dreaming about what it would be like if everyday was like this. 

Everyone has had enough, Ben tells you over the phone one day. You’re at the library, fumbling quickly with your things at the first sound of distress. You managed to escape to the outskirts, hidden between the shelves as he spoke. The last mission was bad. Too close for comfort and the consensus was to get out once and far all. He shares his fears. None of them are really ready to face the world alone. They’ve saved countless lives but it’s still not enough to conquer it. But Vanya managed, he scoffs, still agitated by it all. It became common knowledge by now that she’d climbed to the top of the class of the local university. Providing a rather vivid and compelling dissertation into the life of her family. 

Your offer comes easy. Maybe because you’ve been wanting to asks for years. “Why don’t you live in with me?” His resigned sigh isn’t exactly rejection. “What about Klaus ?”

Ben’s eventual decision lined up with the end of your lease nicely. After three years of seeing the same walls, you were experiencing the newness of indulgent arches and patio gardens. Klaus managed to come up with quite a few demands, even apartment hunting with you and Ben. “Nothing but the best for the most sickening sweet childhood sweethearts you’ve ever seen.” You’d wanted to interrupt him on more than one occasion but he just rolled into another tangent as you scouted out all imperfections and cried for justice. It had taken most of the week for the final decision to land on a quaint three bedroom townhouse downtown. Now you were six couches deep in the department store as you unsuccessfully corralled a disgruntled Klaus. You grimaced guiltily through a smile at the hovering employees expression their displeasure. Not that you blamed them. Klaus really taking the ‘try it yourself’ offer too far. Legs kicked up, swaddled in a blanket with one if the throw pillows under his arse- Because that was his money maker. Klaus was very much at home. Which would be great. If you were at home. Not in the center of IKEA on the verge of getting revoked for loitering. Scanning the store, you desperately tried to locate your boyfriend, uncertain of how you got out on babysitting duty two shops in a row. When no help was on the horizon you reluctantly settled into your role. “Klaus, honey..” You tried to start. “This is the fifth couch you’ve made your own. It’s just lounge ware not your final resting place. “ “You see that’s where you’re wrong my dear. “ Your body sags in defeat as he rolls into another speech. Somehow managing to belittle a billion dollar industry built on home economics in the process. A touch on your shoulder comes as more relief than surprise when Ben appears next to you. He takes in your exasperated state with confusion and inclines his head back towards the rest of the store,“I’ve been waiting by the beds. Why are we still looking at couches?” You gesture to his couch-ridden brother,“I think Klaus has an obsession. “ Ben seemed to have given up on comprehending all together and reached for his brother’s hands, dragging him to his feet. A quiet ‘thank god’ flitters behind you. “Dude, you can pick out the couch too. But you really need to decide on a bed before the ones on sale sell out. I really don’t want to fight a coupon obsessed mother. “ A perplexed Klaus loses all his theatrics. Its in his confusion that the most clarity is found for you. Throughout the course of the weeks, you’d noticed little things, but you’d never expected this kind of miscommunication. You hadn’t realize such a direct approach had been necessary. “You want me to pick out your bed too? I didn’t think you’d value my expertise so much. It’s rather refreshing “ You in Ben share a look. The tilt of his head cementing your conclusion. You say slowly “ We already picked up ours. Remember the sleigh bed ?” “Oh right. I take back my words. Shame one your distasteful cliche.” You resist the urge to scowl. You quite liked the woodwork if that choice. “Well good thing you get to choose your own,” Ben grumbles, equally as proud of the choice in the bed frame. He manages to get everyone on the walkway in route of the direction he’d come from. He takes on last look at Klaus’ calculating face before he gives up.“Oh for fucks sake Klaus. We want you to live with us.” “What?” Reacting to the softness in his voice, you reached around your boyfriend to twine your fingers,“Were just getting ahold of this adult thing. You thought we’d make you figure it out alone ?” You’re happy when everyone decides to ignore the obvious wetness pooling in Klaus’ eyes. The store had enough of a stage production and the last thing it needed were the three of you breaking down over the implications of growing up through childhood. Klaus thankfully just squeezes back in response, but there is an obvious crack in his voice.“You really want to live with me after 17 years ?” “I figured she could to suffer an equal amount of the trials of living with you before we could call it even. “ Laughing wetly, you pinch Ben’s side playfully “Yes, we want you to live with us.” “So the apartment ads?” “Yes, you’re getting your port side view because you asked for it. Not because we were just appeasing you. It’s yours.” “I don’t know what to say…” Ben perks up visibly as the three of you approach the more congested part of the store. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d exaggerated about the chaos of selection. “Can we discuss it after you pick a bed on this sell?. “ He was already trying to map about the best way to navigate through the masses. Frankly, you were already starting to miss the couches. And Klaus. Ben protested loudly when his brother ducked under his arm and pivoted in the opposite direction. Klaus barely managed to eade his grasp, snatching the waist length of us coat up like a victorian style dress. “Oh this is all wrong. We need to start all over. Honey, that kitchen table with those drapes? Not in my house.” With a flounce he disappears down an adjacent pathway. The feeling that settles over you, under the thick fog of irritation floating around Ben, is eased content. With a comforting hand, you drag you palm over the tense muscle of Ben’s back and counted to ten for him. 

Twenty five feels like a prime accomplishment, but in truth you’re so far from truly encompassing the progression of an adult. But you are a college graduate and a proper contribution to the workforce. Both Ben and Klaus were well on their way to understanding too. It had taken some effort, but with Ben’s help you managed to convince Klaus into seeking counsel. There would never truly be a point in his life that he would come to ignore the voices but perhaps channeling them would drive away the ache. At first, he’d been resistant of the idea of being diagnosed with ‘PTSD’, a symptom that he didn’t feel truly exemplified his ordeal. That was of course, all until a war ridden solider named Dave stumbled into a session. It was the first time Klaus had managed to manifest a spirit on pure will. Driven by the urge to comfort Dave with the news that his fallen brother wasn’t tormenting him and had indeed passed on with no regrets or grudges. It was Dave who had recommended Klaus to the community center for a position as an official consoler, taking with his own breakthrough. Neither you or Ben had commented how it had been the quickest Klaus had agreed to anything that wasn’t his own idea. Conveniently, Dave had also recommended a few good places for dinner.

“Oh shit. “ With a groggy groan you nuzzled unconsciously into Ben’s chest. It was too early for you to properly comprehend the tone of his voice but your body still provided comfort under the guise of apprehension. Ben responded to you gratefully, long fingers tangling in your hair through small loops eventually pulled taut when reality finally settled. His lips flapped, opening and closing around the truth that felt so much like a lie. A mirage. But certainly it really couldn’t happening- “Ding dong the wizard  is dead. Which is quite frankly sad news for me but wooo!” The two of you flinched, jumping to attention at Klaus grand entrance. Ben, the more awake and informed, relaxing first as he shared a look of disbelief with his brother. If two people believed the same thing, it was closer to the truth right? Still trying to swallow around the news, Ben cleared his voice shakily,” Can you see him?” Klaus managed to clear the low hanging haze of sleep from the room when he pounced, bed shaking under his weight as he made himself at home in the sheets. Ben vaguely registered your groan of protest as you tried to secure the sheets around your modesty. The act was for naught however, as the two umbrella children were preoccupied by a more pressing matter. Rolling his eyes, Klaus lounged back against the foot of the bed, forgetting his own modesty as his bathrobe slid around his body to accommodate. With lazy excitement he twirled the strings,” As if I’d willingly summon him. I just got him out of my life, Ben,” he scoffed, to which the others merely shrugged. It wasn’t like Klaus gave out invitations to his phantom visitors. “Can someone get me up to speed?” You requested disgruntled, a little put off from being left out. You almost regretted asking. “Dads dead.” The two answered with a mixture of excitement and barely aged disbelief. You were suspended between high fiving Klaus and stroking your boyfriend’s back out of comfort. You had your own thoughts about the man, some unjust and the others completely dignified. But in the same thought, he brought you these dysfunctional idiots and that was enough to pay your respects for. The underlying emotion, however, was relief. No denying that collective emotion. Thinking around Ben’s persistent and absent minded tugs against your scalp, you tested the waters. “Should you guys be preparing funeral arrangements?” “Oh! My inheritance!” With a squeal, a flutter of sheets and unmentionables you really shouldn’t be use to seeing, Klaus was gone. You didn’t expect much out of him anyway. Beside you, Ben’s shuddered with a haggard sigh. He leaned gratefully into your palm as it roamed the plane of his back. Breathing more easily at the touch of your lips between his shoulder blades. He sought out your hand still lost in the wrinkled sheets, bringing it to his lips. “Guess should check in with the others?” Ben found it strange. The man they called ‘father’ put them through so much turmoil. Put him through so many horrors. And for what? Just to call himself king of the castle? They called him the monster. But Ben had experience enough to point out the real ones. But it was all over. Finally over And yet… “Oh, Ben..” He blinked past the tears in disbelief, eyes shining as he curled into your offered embrace. He was still their dad. 

“Hey,  I could buy my own mansion with this kind of money. You think Dave would like that?” You vaguely registered his words over the thick haze. Snuggled close to Ben, you were still trying to properly dissect what all had happened in the last twelve hours. The funeral had been a small affair, exclusively tightening around you as the sole outsider, purely by your longstanding devotion to Ben. It had been jaring at first. Seeing all the siblings in one place. Even Vanya in attendance. They were all living out their own lives, so close yet so far out of touch. For the most part, you’d been able to follow Allison on the tabloids. Vanya was a distinguished professor at the college of music, often having promotional concerts around the city. Diego was a little harder to keep track of, but Luther. Luther was about as impossible as a feat as still coming to terms with the fact that he lived on the moon. In all honesty, it had been the first time you’d set foot in the mansion. Ben had never wanted you to experience the drab lifestyle he’d grown up in. Beyond all the luxury and schematics, you were beginning to realize how many secrets the shadows held. It would have been a quiet event. Meant to be placed in the courtyard. The mismatched cohesiveness of it all was abruptly interrupted by the alert of an uninvited guest. Diego had rolled into action first, donning his mask with efficiency that made you question its origin. Ben had instructed you to stay behind him, and you stepped back the agreeable amount of feet should an occurrence like this ever arise. The echo of footsteps was slow and calculated. A confident gait that traveled with a sense of knowing. They grew closer, each one coiling the muscle of tension a thread tighter. Until a single man rounded the corner. One unfamiliar, yet so recognizable from the curl of his scowl. A disinterested Five, rolled his eyes at his less than seasoned battle ready family, clad in a button up and linen pants with a loose ringlet of tropical flowers around his neck. He took everyone in with vague disgust before rolling his eyes and tossing the petals aside, muttering audibly about getting the show on the road so that he could return to his estate.

“ So we’re not going to talk about how our brother basically ran away from home and built his own starter company on a private island based on the exploits of time travel?” Klaus’ exhale backfired at the end, the smoke rushed out with a sputter and accompanying coughs. Another time you might have shown more concern, but the shock still took heavily dosed in your body to process another emotion. Ben was equally as unconcerned, his chest pushing you briefly into a sitting position as he reached out to snatch the smoking roll of paper from Klaus’ strangled grip. Eventually Klaus recovered, breathing shakily as he registered the theft. “No, we’re not going to talk about the little imp.” A thick cloud of smoke curled around you as Ben spoke,” Not so little anymore.” “Fucking family,” Klaus quipped. “I hope he got cut out of the will.” You responded to a light tug of your chin, turning into the gesture to welcome your boyfriend’s lips against your own. With a part of his lips, Ben emptied the second drag of weed into your mouth. You sink down further into his hold, hanging onto the hazy cloud before releasing it with a relieved sigh. It really was therapeutic in a way you couldn’t quite comprehend or explore on your own. The feeling radiated with a pleasant warmth that curled your toes. You snatched it back before Klaus could, bringing it to your lips for a slow deep pull like you’d been instructed. Klaus meet your gaze with a twinkle of pride, happy to corrupt you even just a little bit. “When are the two of you going to get married so I can ask Dave?” It was your turn to choke on an inhale, to which Klaus grinned victoriously. Ben’s hand massaged your back, patting firmly behind the lungs. It was careful and coherent, so unlike the visible shock you were feeling. “Why do you have to wait for us?” Klaus rolled his eyes as he took the burning paper with a frown,” It’s only out of courtesy. I don’t have to. But since you bought the ring first…” “Klaus.”  Ben’s voice was sharper and more aware. The conversation doing the the same to your consciousness. Turning in his hold, Ben only fought your attempts shortly before giving up. Both of your eyes were thinly laced but slowly gaining coherency. “You bought a ring?” Ben mumbled around the touch of your fingers against his lips, nibbling unintentionally with each word. “I really don’t want to bring this up high and on the evening of my father’s funeral.” “And brother’s resurrection. Hallelujah!” Klaus added unhelpfully. But you were determined, hands gripping his chin this time as you kept his gaze on you. “You want to marry me?” “Yeah, baby. I want to marry you.”

You’re twenty eight lying awake at 2 am on the day of your wedding. It wasn’t a restless sleep and neither of you were recovering from a bout of passion.

It was serene.

Quiet.

Much like it had been since Klaus moved out a year ago. Him and Dave had managed to sign on a townhouse just a few lots over. The prompt and wholly unexpected sighting of ghosts encouraging a hasty move from the last occupants.

They were engaged now, well into their own plans.

Everyone was back in town.

Allison with shared custody of Claire. They were staying with Luther for the weekend.

Diego has promised to show up in a proper suit for once. Bow tie and all. A cute detective ( who he definitely was not dating )as his plus one.

And then there was Five and his mysterious wife Delores.

No one was even tempted to unpack that enigma.

You roll onto your side and ride to your elbows. Ben’s eyes are closed but his breathing isn’t deep enough for sleep. You test your hypothesis with a short kiss that he lengthens with a smile.

The arm resting under you, curls up around your waist,” Still not sleepy?”

You hum in response, “it’s helping me remember this isn’t all a dream.”

Ben strokes your cheek with a laugh,” We’ve been living the dream for the last fifteen years.”

You weave your fingers together,” Fifteen huh?”

He buried his face into your neck and the two of you inhale together. There are less than six hours left before you’ll be separated for the majority of the day. Allison had been firm on her schedule, looping your mother and other bridesmaids in without complaint.

Five planned to pay for everything. Whether it was out of apology or simply because he could mattered not to Ben who agreed without a blink.

“It felt like a fantasy when I first saw you. Glad we never woke up.”

You go to kiss his nose and he turn in just the right way to capture your lips.Its a slow kiss, one to travel across the years and a few more for the future.

“I love you.”

After a decade of trials, the thirties certainly aren’t smooth but its a better set of challenges. You learned a new part of Ben’s heritage when your first pregnancy resulted in not one but two babies.

The two of you had been swept into a reasonable amount of panic. It was one thing for first-time parents to prepare for a single child, but twins?

Ben had been told to save his other hand for the second child during labor, he hadn’t expect to nearly lose both in the same day. But he’d been your pillar through the whole ordeal, stroking the wet cloth across your forehead and murmuring encouragement over your explicitness.

He was really really glad you weren’t Allison that day.

Thinking about it made him wonder what kind of hell erupted on Claire’s birth.

Raising twins wasn’t impossible but it wasn’t a walk either. More like a casual collection of jobs with a few stumbles along the way. In terms of proper parenting, there was a bit of a deficit between both of your experiences but there was a bold consensus to make up for misgivings on both sides.

Klaus turned out to be more of a help than either of you had expected. But then again, neither of you had anticipated Dave’s arrival into his life either. The two were well into their own marriage now and at the top of the uncle list.

You both watched them now, tucked under each other on the porch while your children drug their uncles through the snow. It was early enough for the snow to still be considered fresh and the coffee to be mildly ineffective. You watch the steam roll from your mouth, hissing on the inhale.

You decided to give the little group another five minutes before calling it in. It was all fun and games until you had a house full of sniffles and icky coughs. You were already thinking of whether to entice them with pancakes or french toast this morning.

“If I wasn’t so worried, I’d leave them out here with them and go back inside,” Ben grumbled lowly behind you. He’d returned back inside for a fresh cup of coffee.

You want to laugh but a yawn comes first,” Then we’d be taking care of four sick kids.”

“Daddy, come help me please!”

Ben tries to hide the smile, but that kind of grin is impossible to subdue. You know from experience. All fight leaves his body, and likely the rest of his warmth as he hands over his cup after one last long sip.

You’re pleased to still see half left as you steal a few sips for yourself.

[hypnosis-micrpohone-things]

Mad Trigger Crew as Teachers

Not a request, but the only thing currently in my drafts so...enjoy!

Samatoki

I could see him teaching all grade levels, but I think he would be a perfect middle school teacher.

I don’t think the subject matters, but if I had to pick I think he’d be an electives teacher. Maybe PE or something.

Probably the driver’s ed teacher as well, if it’s high school.

He would be a “rough around the edges” kind of teacher.

By that I mean he would seem a bit menacing at first. He’s very short with the students and doesn’t mince words. Those things, combined with his signature scowl, are enough to make even then most difficult student behave.

That’s not to say he’s a mean teacher, his words just don’t always come out right and he appears harsh. (His albinism doesn’t help with that, either.)

It’s not intentional. It’s just his personality.

It could take a while for the students to see his true colors.

And it’s likely many won’t ever see it. That’s the real tragedy, the students who write him off, who never get to see how much he genuinely cares for them and wants them to succeed.

The ones who do get close enough to see it are likely on his team.

Of course he’s a coach, he’d be perfect for it! Tough love at its finest.

He would probably coach soccer or football, some kind of team sport.

He has to request an office/classroom that gets the least amount of sunlight because of his albinism.

Jyuto

SADIST Not one of the more popular teachers, I’ll be honest.

He’d be the kind of teacher who would tell you there is no scheduled homework, then give you a 30 page packet to finish in 45 minutes.

“There’s no homework, but this has to be done by tomorrow morning for your grade. Whether you take it home or not is up to you.” Gee thanks, Teach. You’re the “best”.

He would have to teach high school. He’s too creepy terrifying evil mature for the little ones.

Probably a math or science teacher. You know, so he can haunt your dreams as you struggle to pass the mandatory classes.

Always threatening the students in a passive way.

“I’d love to see some more effort in your work. You know, the grades you have now will affect your choices for the future. It would be a shame for things to fall through for you so early...” Thanks, jerk.

Enjoys butting into student conversations during passing. (He’s the only one.)

Probably gets called to the office due to student complaints, but technically he’s never done anything wrong or against contract, so...

Will teach well past retirement and then be that one elderly substitute no one likes.

Won’t coach or run a club, but not because he doesn’t want to.

Every time he tries no one signs up.

Riou

PE teacher. All grade levels.

I actually think he would work best with elementary school kids, no lie.

It’s because they’re less judgmental and 90% of them love going to gym, because games!

They also have more stamina than the older kids, which is great because he can keep up with them.

Is the type of teacher who would join in with the kids instead of watching from he sidelines.

Likes to plan outdoor activities as much as possible. If the school has a field or outdoor facilities of any kind he will hold class there as much as the weather allows.

Will also do lunch and recess duty if the school needs it.

He loves seeing the kids outside playing and he will always advocate for the kids to go outside as long as the weather isn’t dangerous.

Field trip teacher!

You know, the one that always signs up to go, because why not? Fun times with the kids!

Runs all the after schools sports clubs.

Literally, all of them. He makes sure to schedule practices and games so that he’s always busy, but none of them overlap.

Loves his job so much.

[acuppellarp]

Welcome (again) to A Cup-pella, Leigh! We’re excited to have you and Sage LeBlanc in the game! Please go through the checklist to make sure you’re ready to go and send in your account within the next 24 hours. 

OOC INFO

Name + pronouns: Leigh, she/her Age: 27 Timezone: EST Ships: Sage/Chemistry Anti-Ships: Sage/Forced

IC INFO

Full Name: Alessandra Sage “Sage” LeBlanc Face Claim: Vanessa Morgan Age/Birthday: 27/November 1 Occupation: Crime analyst for the NYPD Personality: Blunt, nihilistic, frigid, whip-smart, irritable Hometown: New Orleans, Louisiana Bio:

From the time she was born, Alessandra LeBlanc was too smart for her own good. As the younger of the LeBlanc sisters, Alessandra couldn’t have asked for a better childhood. While she grew up in a rural part of Louisana, her father was a famous jazz musician and moved the family to New Orleans when his band started catching a big break.

Alessandra loved living in New Orleans. There was so much culture, history, and folklore surrounding the town that she couldn’t help but get swept up in it. She would listen to stories about voodoo, Marie Laveau, ghost hunting, and of the incredible food. She and her sister, Alison, took the most pleasure in roaming the streets in the afternoons, listening to music pour out of the restaurants on Bourbon Street. Mardi Gras was a party that resulted in their mother cooking and baking up a storm.

Family was everything to Alessandra. First, her mother Rebecca, a wise and kind woman with soft eyes and an even softer heart, who worked as a cleaning woman in the local hotel. But she could bake, and she could play the piano. She’d often play the piano for Shaw, the patriarch of the household, who was a wizard on the tenor saxophone, and whose career in music was supposed to drive them from the slums to easy street. Then there was Alison, who embodied all of the best possible qualities of both parents. She was every bit of the perfect older sister to Alessandra– the guardian, the protector. They were happy, and family always came first.

Tragedy struck Alessandra over the course of two years, one after the other. Alessandra never saw either of them coming, but shortly after she turned twelve years old, she and her parents buried her fifteen year old sister after a terminal illness caught too late, to the point where nothing more could be done. Alessandra felt so lost in the world after that, and it’s where she started to flounder. Her dad stopped playing jazz. Her mom started resorting to take out. The streets of New Orleans had lost its magic, but the family wouldn’t be there for much longer.

When Katrina hit, Alessandra was in eighth grade, and her parents made the wise decision to move away from Louisana and into lower New York State, instead. Alessandra’s mother had family in the greater New York area, and it seemed like a good decision at the time. This was when she started going by Sage instead– new life, new name, right? Any hope of making something new for herself faded away. Unfortunately, they moved into a community where children had been friends since they were in diapers, and a sullen, moody, pink-haired child wasn’t exactly on the top of everyone’s list to be friends with.

Between Alison’s passing and being displaced from her home, Sage never quite bounced back from the charismatic, know-it-all that she once was. No more would she run up to her teachers and ask if they wanted to hear about a math proof, or a fun fact. She kept to herself and lost herself in a world of books. Other people’s stories distracted her from her own, and she was found getting in trouble in class for reading books when she should have been paying attention. Even when Sage would be randomly called on, she could always come up with the right answer. Sage had the curse of being smart and being bored.

This was why nobody was even remotely surprised when Sage graduated as the valedictorian of her class, with a full-ride scholarship to Columbia University. She majored in Criminal Studies with a minor in Women’s Literature. Part of Sage wanted to go ahead and pursue a law degree, but people aren’t really her thing. She’s much better off behind the scenes, analyzing data and helping to solve crimes in that manner.

Sage is heavy– mentally, emotionally. She isn’t friendly, and she isn’t kind. She’s not like her mother and never learned enough from her sister on how to face the world with a smile. Instead, Sage relies on her ability to push people away in order to get by. One might think that she wouldn’t thrive in an environment like Acuppella Cafe, because it is a place that thrives on community and togetherness. The cafe has given Sage just that– a community of people who understand her (and plenty of those who don’t) as well as some of her best friends in New York City.

Pets: An adopted Bengal cat named Nefertari. Sage is convinced that this cat is a reincarnation of the famed Egypitan queen. She’ll bend over backwards to tell you that, too.

Relationships:

Haley Sterling

Roommate. Sage can’t stand her, if she’s being completely honest, because Haley is far too peppy and happy for her own good. Sage thinks she’s a six year old child trapped in an adult body, and she has no patience for it. Sage tries to avoid her roommate as much as humanly possible.

Scout Solano

While these two don’t seem to have much in common on the surface, they’ve fallen into a benefits situation. Calling them friends might be a bit far. Sage thinks Scout is absolutely gorgeous and has no trouble admitting that, but she’d much prefer Scout with her mouth shut. Or occupied.

Darcy Allen

Best friends. There is absolutely nothing that Sage loves more than being able to sit in complete silence with someone and know that things are good. They’ll go on a hike, read a book, one of them will crack a joke, rinse and repeat. Sage would kill and die for her.

Naomi Puckerman

In order, the top three things that Sage cannot stand: overly flirtatious people, people who feel the need to constantly mention how hot they are, and people who vanish from their job for six months and leave the weird post-nasal drip dude with pocket protectors as the only person for Sage to talk to. Puck? Puck is all three of them. They work together for the NYPD and while Sage isn’t completely offended by Puck’s existence, she finds the other woman very hilarious. She’d deny it under oath, though.

Rachel Berry

Sage and Rachel bonded over having similar diets, and woefully looking inside the Acup pastry case. The two will often go out to lunch together and share their exercise habits and dietary tips.

EXTRA INFO

your worst nightmare/queensageoftheunderworld/i take hot showers to practice burning in hell:

Five latest tweets:

@queensageoftheunderworld: no one: literally no one: absolutely no one: men: I KNOW HOW TO WRITE STRONG FEMALE CHARACTERS!!!!!!! @queensageoftheunderworld: idc if it takes away my gold star gay card, spencer reid can fucking get it. @queensageoftheunderworld: guess who booked her next vacation to venice? poveglia island, here i come. @queensageoftheunderworld: pink hair, don’t care #imgoingpurplenext @queensageoftheunderworld: my apartment is haunted. check the thread below for all the details. makes dear daniel look like a kid’s bedtime story tbh

[fireflysummers]

Remembrance

An ABOT Attic AU One-Shot 

At age five, Tsubomi learns to keep a secret.

At age ten, she learns the cost of lying.

At age fourteen, she learns how not to get caught.

But most important of all, Tsubomi knows how not to forget.

I...really love Tsubomi? We didn’t get nearly enough screentime with her in-canon, so I wanted to explore her a little bit in this AU of an AU, without altering the set timeline.

Also, I think ther’es something important and incredibly powerful about somebody remembering you, even when they don’t have to. Even when it would be easier to forget.

TW: Mention of kidnapping, abuse, character death (abot and attic au specific events). Extreme helicopter parenting and pressure.

I’m piggybacking off the work of @phantomrose96​ @sandflakedraws​

ABOT Attic AU Masterpost

At age five, Takane Tsubomi meets Kageyama Shigeo on the playground of the local daycare they both attend. Years later, she barely remembers that first meeting—only that he was odd, despite looking nearly identical to a dozen other little boys like him. Before long, she becomes accustomed to him quietly shadowing her, not quite left out but certainly not a part of the conversations she held with the other children.

It’s almost a month before she learns at least one reason he stands apart from the mob. It had started with a game of kick the ball, which Shigeo is admittedly awful at. After making his team lose a third time in a row, some of the meaner boys steal the football and toss it over the fence, as if to communicate once and for all that they were done playing.

“We can tell the teacher to get it for us,” Tsubomi says, honestly expecting her strange, sort-of friend to walk away dejectedly, or maybe even start crying. She knows she might have, if she weren’t already too stubborn. But instead, Shigeo stares balefully at the ball on the other side of the fence, as though willing it to return.

And then, it does.

Almost of its own volition, the ball picks itself up off the ground, and soars gently into Shigeo’s outstretched arms, just as the teacher calls the students in from recess.

“Can balls fly?” Tsubomi asks her mother that evening, after playing vaguely with her dinner for several minutes.

“Depends how hard you hit them,” her dad pipes in, voice jovial despite the not-joke being astoundingly unfunny. “You thinking of following in your old man’s footsteps, going out for the baseball team?”

Without ever answering her question, her parents begin down a tangent about signing her up for baseball when she gets old enough, about summer camps and sports teams. A conversation about her without ever once looking her way. Tsubomi oes back to playing with her food while her parents drone on, their lack of answer for some reason answering her question anyways.

At age five, for no other reason than spite alone, Takane Tsubomi learned how to keep a secret.

The natural drifting away from Shigeo happened so slowly that Tsubomi was almost unaware that it happened. Somewhere down the line, he had gone from Shigeo-chan to Mob-kun, an almost friend to a sort-of stranger. Years later, she realized that he always seemed to exist in those twilight spaces—not quite right, but certainly not wrong either.

They attended the same elementary school, sometimes sharing classes, more often not. It didn’t take long until Mob was at the back of her mind. He was, after all, so easy to lose in a crowd.

At age ten, though, they share a class in the spring semester. She’s already learning to balance sports and grades and pretending to like all the other girls and boys in the class, just as her parents expect her to, and this keeps her so preoccupied that it takes her time to notice Mob at all.

She catches him by the shoe racks after class one day, though. He’s struggling with a backpack that’s just a little heavier than it should be, trying to coordinate between the backpack, his shoes, and his jacket.

“Hello Mob-kun,” she greets. He glances up at her, obviously delighted that he’s being acknowledged at all. For a moment, Tsubomi feels a brief pang or regret that she’s put her old friend so far out of mind. Instead of dwelling on it, she pushes the conversation forward. “Are you going somewhere today?”

“Yes,” Mob nods, solemnly, “I’m going to meet my shishou today.”

“Your shishou?” she prompts, when it’s clear he’s not going to be more forthcoming.

“Yes,” Mob says again, shoes and jacket now on, backpack slipped over it shoulders. “He teaches me cool tricks. Like. Um. Do you remember the dog?”

“Of course!” she says, as though that were something that could be forgotten easily. This gets another soft, delighted smile from the other boy, as though he’s relieved that one of his peers actually remembers his existence. “Could you show me what you’ve learned?”

“Oh…,” he says, shuffling his feet and glancing at the door, as though aware that he was losing time. “I have to go, I think though. He wanted me to be on time today. But maybe I can show you the new tricks later?”

“Okay,” she agrees, suddenly aware that she has piano lessons before long, and also needs to get going. “Later then.”

And although her thoughts are quickly consumed with piano practice and then extra tutoring and on and on and on. And yet, this time, the other boy did not drift out of her mind completely. She can’t recall the last time she’d actually told one of her classmates that they would have to meet again later, and actually meant it.

There is, however, no ‘later’ for her.

That night, Mob’s face is broadcast across every television screen in the city.

The first day, Tsubomi tries to convince her parents to let her help, even in some small way.

“I saw him!” she tells them, “Before we left school yesterday! I can help!”

Her parents look at each other, and then back at her.

“Lots of people saw him yesterday,” her mother says, voice gentle to the point of brittleness. “I’m sure that there were others—we can’t…you can’t get caught up in this. It may be dangerous.”

For all her stubbornness, Tsubomi is smart. She knows when she has no chance to argue against her parents, and that one of those times has arrived. In addition to their regular strictness, there’s an odd note in both their voices.

Fear, her mind supplies. And suggests that maybe, she too, should be afraid.

But all she feels is anger.

The next few weeks bleed into each other. Tsubomi is squirreled away in the safety of her own home. Normally, this would be a welcome reprieve from the onslaught of school and social and lessons. Instead, though, she’s left listening at the door as her parents whisper, trying to keep the panic out of their voices.

She doesn’t even bother asking her parents directly about it anymore. She already knows what sort of answer she’ll receive.

Instead, Tsubomi fetches the newspaper out of the trash, after her father is finished with it, carefully clipping out articles, then disposing of it as inconspicuously as possible. These articles, she keeps tucked in the inside of her math book, since she’s long suspected her mother of snooping in her personal diary. She pores over these, in moments she’s certain she’s been left to her own devices, making notes, trying to connect pieces.

She tries to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach, when the steady flow of articles slows to a trickle, and the reporters begin referring to “the body of Kageyama Shigeo” rather than Mob himself.

The breaking point arrives almost three months after Mob vanishes, seemingly into thin air. She’s since been allowed to return to school, to her lessons, most likely because her parents are concerned that too much free time will give her…odd ideas.

More than once, Tsubomi considers reaching out to Ritsu, who she also considers a friend. But if she thought her parents grip was tight, it was nothing compared to the invisible cage the Kageyamas had constructed around their remaining son.

Ritsu, for the most part, kept his head down. A lot of people spoke about his heartbreak, but Tsubomi couldn’t see where they saw broken. All she can see is rage.

She doesn’t manage to stick around long enough to see if broken ever arrives to Kageyama Ritsu. Her own breaking point arrives, and she hates that it comes in the most mundane fashion.

After school one day, between cram school and dance lessons, Tsubomi trips on the backpack that she’d thoughtlessly left on the floor. She can only watch in horror as her books slide out, newspaper clippings escaping their secret place. Can feel the coldness in her mother’s gaze that freezes her where she stands, as her mother examines the months of clandestine investigation.

At age ten, three months after the disappearance of Kageyama Shigeo, Tsubomi learns the cost of lying.

By the age of fourteen, Takane Tsubomi has not only mastered the art of lying—she has, more importantly, mastered the art of not getting caught.

If it hadn’t been for her last, fateful encounter with the police, and for her parents rage at discovering her own investigation into things, she would perhaps have let the matter die. Let it sink into her memory as a tragedy that was easier to simply…forget. All the other students did. He was, after all, so easy to lose in a crowd.

But she didn’t forget. There was nothing much she could do, but she tried to do more than not forgetting. She remembered.

It took her a while to recollect all of the articles her mother had disposed over, and even longer to recompile her notes. But by the time she was through, she’d also added any and all details about that strange, shadowy boy that was so, so easy to forget. Notes on his mannerisms, memories of childhood playdates, even a crude sketch of what he’d worn the day of his disappearance.

Tsubomi even went so far as to ask Mezato Ichi, from the next class over, for advice under the guise of potentially joining the journalism club. Mezato didn’t fall for it, she knew, but Tsubomi was a tough nut to crack—she’d ensured that. By now, there were layers on the layers until not even her parents could tell the difference between her true face and the masks she wore to fool the world.

(Had they ever known the difference?)

And so, at age fourteen, Takane Tsubomi was perhaps the only person to note when one Isari Tetsuo, primary investigator on the Kageyama Shigeo case file, vanished. Admittedly, there was very little said about it, and after bribing Mezato with an inside interview with the school’s tennis team, she’s learns that it is (most likely) a cases of infidelity.

Still, she adds it to her notes.

In the middle of her second year of middle school, Tsubomi finds herself uprooted without warning. Her first thought is that her investigation has once again been discovered, and is relieved to learn that it is merely her parent’s usual nosiness.

They’d noticed something off about her. Not in her grades or her sports or her social life. By all accounts, those were flawless. (Tsubomi had ensured that.)

But she seemed troubled, most likely by the string of violence surrounding the local delinquent gangs. They worried that it was disturbing her studies and pursuits, and besides, they’d found a middle school that would properly prepare her for the gold star high school she would be admitted to.

(They didn’t ask her thoughts on the matter, and Tsubomi knew better than to offer them.)

Almost overnight, it seemed, Tsubomi was swept from her childhood home into a completely foreign area.

It could be a good thing, she reasons. New students. New school. New beginning.

But no. The show must go on.

And for the first time in four years, she tries to let Mob slip from her mind.

Over a year later, Tsubomi has almost convinced herself to forget Mob. Almost, multiple times, thrown away the dozens of notes and newspaper clippings she’s compiled. Almost, but not quite.

That small, stubborn part at the core of her soul refuses to let go. Not yet.

And then, just like that day five years prior, Kageyama Shigeo is on the news again.

When she first hears the report, she freezes, blood running cold. She knows in her heart that Mob is dead. There’s no way he could possibly be alive—what would the point have been? She’s steeled herself time and again for the day she hears that they have found his body. Hates herself for all the times she’s imagined him, buried in a shallow grave in some out-of-the-way abandoned lot.

She thinks she’s prepared herself for every possible outcome.

She has not prepared herself to hear that he is alive.

Certainly not alive and well, but alive.

For the first time in months? Years? She can’t remember anymore. But for the first time in a long time, she feels tears welling up in her eyes, and does not fight to push them away.

She has her own smart phone by now, and while it is regularly checked by parents and heavily restricted in its general network access, she has long since learned how to avoid her parents suspicion. That said, her initial searches did not bring much to light—the news world seemed just as baffled as she is by the sudden turn of events.

She hears everything from kidnapping, to possession, to corrupt cops working the case. It takes time to sort through all the conspiracy theories. Even after the mainstream has let the case rest, and let the Kageyama have a little peace, it’s difficult to piece together exactly what happened.

Despite the rush of guilt that comes with it, she cannot help but feel vindicated to learn of the discovery of Officer Isari’s body, that his disappearance was, in fact, connected to his long running case. She sees the face of his widow on every report she reads, recounting his bravery and her relief to finally have a place to lay her husband to rest properly.

And even there, the facts don’t seem to add up. She checks and checks her notes, but cannot reconcile the length of time between Officer Isari’s disappearance, and the reappearance of the long-lost boy.  But, the press likes to tie things up with a pretty little bow. She knows this from her time spent in the company of Mezato. Some part of her tells her that she should be satisfied with this. It is, after all, a happy ending.

It isn’t enough though. If it was….well, she wouldn’t be Takane Tsubomi.

The next day, for the first time in her entire life, Tsubomi skips school.

Without asking permission, she instead catches the train back to the only place she calls home.

[kinghairington]

Into the Black (Chapter One)

Summary: Jacqueline Cooper was once the Queen of Hawkins High, but after a fight with Carol, she ran away from her best friend and popularity. Then Will Byers and Barbara Holland disappeared and they were thrust back into each other’s worlds. (Ao3) Characters/Pairings: Steve x OC (slow burn), Steve x Nancy, hinted Jonathan x Nancy, Carol x Tommy Word Count: 2,812 Warnings: friendship and relationship angst, some language, underage drinking, general strange things A/N: This is my first ever Stranger Things and OC fic. It’s a bit of a reimagining of season one if there had been a core four of teenagers on the show. I do not own Stranger Things, any of its characters, or dialogue. I did use some of the same scenes, of course, but I tried to make them fit that idea and made them my own. It will get a little more AU as things go on. Hope you enjoy!

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven / twelve / thirteen, part one / thirteen, part two / fourteen 

Hawkins, Indiana Fall 1983

Walking through the doors of Hawkins High, Jacqueline Cooper kept her eyes straight in front of her. A couple months ago she could have looked around and talked to some of her classmates, but a lot of things had changed.

The town was a town on edge after 12-year-old Will Byers and 16-year-old Barbara Holland had mysteriously disappeared within a couple of days time. It was unlike any tragedy that the town had ever experienced. Parents in the small town were becoming overprotective in a way they never had before and teens at Hawkins High weren’t talking about much else in the school hallways. All in all, the town had been turned upside down.

The general consensus regarding the disappearance of Will Byers was that his brother Jonathan had something to do with it. At least that was the gossip at the school. Of course, it was ridiculous. If you were unpopular, any sort of unsavory rumors were bound to get started. He wasn’t a violent person, but Jonathan was an easy target. His reputation came mostly from his antisocial behavior and the fact that he almost always had a camera hanging from his neck. Popularity was obviously not on his side.

Jacqueline understood this all too well. After a fall from the top of the high school food chain, the former Queen of Hawkins High was now friendless herself.

Meanwhile, Nancy Wheeler was making her way toward the top of that chain thanks to the attention from King Steve Harrington, one of the only people who had ever managed to break Jacqueline’s heart. Not that he knew anything about that.

But when the Barb went missing, Jacqueline had to put aside her feelings toward Nancy (Was it jealousy? Envy? Anger?) and reach out. They barely knew each other as they were in different grades, but Barb had been smart enough and nice enough, to tutor Jacqueline in math for the last few months. In that way, Nancy and Jacqueline had something connecting them that wasn’t Steve. As far as Jacqueline was concerned, that meant more than a boy.

So, as much as it unnerved her to approach the sophomore, knowing that there would be someone gossiping about it the second they were seen talking, Jacqueline found Nancy at her locker the morning that the news of Barb’s disappearance broke.

“Hey,” she started simply, clutching her books to her chest and attempting to look as cool, calm, and collected as possible. There were already people watching their exchange and soon, she was sure, rumors that she was trying to take back her throne or groveling at the new queen’s feet. It made her hands shake and she gripped the books tighter, causing her fingertips to turn white and ache.

Nancy immediately paused in retrieving her own textbook, one hand holding the locker door open. And the surprise flickered through her eyes before something else replaced it, nervousness.

That made two of them.

“Oh. Hi, Jacqueline.”

Jacqueline smiled softly at her, wanting to ease the girl’s nerves because this wasn’t about popularity or Steve.

“I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry about Barb. I know you two are close.” She nodded to herself and let her eyes flick around the ever-growing crowd in the hallway. Sure enough, there was Carol hanging onto Tommy’s arm with her eyes trained on the pair. Forcing her attention back to Nancy, she continued, “She’s been tutoring me in math for a while. Don’t know if she ever mentioned that, but she was - is a sweet girl. I hope she’s back soon.”

Her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment and she sent Nancy a final smile that came out more like a grimace before stepping to the side. As if on cue, she spotted Steve walking down the hall in that direction and turned quickly to leave.

“Thanks,” Nancy finally said from behind her. “There’s a search party after school.”

Jacqueline nodded and looked back to her, noticing that Nancy looked like she wanted to say more at the same time that Steve, followed closely by Tommy trying to look intimidating and a smirking Carol, approached the locker. Her eyes met Steve’s for just a moment before she focused back on Nancy and gave a terse nod.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Before any of the other three could say anything, she continued on her way down the hall. It wasn’t until she was in her next class that she let her shoulders fall.

It felt like half the town showed up to search for Barbara Holland that night. News had already made its way around that Will Byer’s body had been recovered from a quarry nearby and, although it was still blocked off from the search, it made sense to look for Barb in that area.

Jacqueline showed up alone that night but found herself pairing up with Nancy. It was an extremely awkward experience for both of them. Jacqueline because she evidently had no idea how to talk to anyone anymore. And, sure, there were Jacqueline’s uncomfortable feelings toward Nancy,  but she wasn’t prepared to get into that. She was sure she would never be ready for that.

They were both there for the same reason, though, to find Barb, and at that moment, they were both more determined to do that than anything else. They didn’t have to be friends to care about the same person.

Through the couple hours walk, few things were said, but to both of their relief, it was mostly about Will and Barb. Never once did either of them mention the situation between them.

By the end of the night, even without any sign of Barb or her whereabouts, Jacqueline felt a bit of a weight lifted off her shoulders. Sending Nancy a genuine smile, she leaned forward to hug the younger girl. Nancy was a couple inches taller than her, so that was awkward for a moment, but Nancy seemed to appreciate the action.

“They’ll find her,” Jacqueline whispered as she pulled away.

“I’m going to find her,” Nancy corrected and Jacqueline nodded slowly, almost impressed with the look in her eyes. “I’m looking more tonight.”

“Whoa. Are you sure? That’s dangerous, especially right now.”

Nancy looked down and then back up, shyly, “I’ll be at Steve’s.”

“Right.” With a sudden tightness in her throat, Jacqueline forced out a quick, “Good night,” and rushed off to her car.

The next couple days went by without much development in Jacqueline’s life or the search for Barb. School was excruciating, but that had been expected. She and Carol had two almost altercations while she tried to talk to Nancy, and it was obvious that Nancy knew all about it from the look on her face as the girls practically squared off in the hallway. Their fight a couple months ago was still fresh in her mind.

Their little party had been going well after the boys left until Jacqueline stupidly thought that Carol would stick by her, thanks to a few too many cups of whatever mixed drink Carol had whipped up for them. But Carol was also feeling the effects of the alcohol and she was even harsher in those moments.

Then Jacqueline muttered the words, “I think I’m going to tell Steve” and all hell broke loose. It was all due to Carol’s jealousy and Jacqueline knew it.

As soon as Carol tried to convince her not to do it, to not embarrass herself, Jacqueline shakily pushed herself up from the couch and glared Carol’s way.

“You’re just jealous!” Jacqueline accused, her eyes flashing angrily. There had been plenty of arguments between the two since they had known each other since 2nd grade, but this all stemmed from years of Jacqueline holding in her feelings. “You’re jealous because I’m more popular than you. And if Steve feels the same, no one will care about you and Tommy anymore. You don’t care about my embarrassment.”

Jacqueline blew out a breath as Carol stood and met her gaze with one full of just as much venom. If not more.

“Like hell, I’m jealous of you. You know we’re just friends with you because of Steve, right? He didn’t want to leave you behind after your daddy left, but lover boy’s got his eyes set on Nancy Wheeler now.” Carol fixed her with a look that said ‘take that’ and Jacqueline tried her best to not let the surprise show on her face. Carol’s voice took on a babying tone as she patted Jacqueline’s shoulder. “Oh, you didn’t know? So, sure, go ahead and embarrass yourself.”

Carol grinned at her before taking another sip of her drink. Jacqueline was sure this was the end of that friendship, not that it was much of one, but the thought of Steve leading her on for so long caused her eyes to burn. They had been best friends since they were 13. She wanted to scream. So she did the one thing she had inherited from her dad and bolted. Up the stairs, out the door, and down the street, she walked as quickly as her legs could take her until she was a few streets over and had to stop to get her bearings.

Once she was back in the safe confines of her house, thankful for once that her mom was already in bed, she leaned against the door and allowed herself to cry.

If she could control anything, that was going to the last time she let someone make her cry.  

Her feelings hadn’t changed much since that fight; she still stupidly cared for Steve and distance had done little to change that. Seeing Steve in the halls and class was still difficult, especially now that he had a girlfriend, but Jacqueline couldn’t deny that Nancy would probably be a good change for him. Nancy was definitely a nicer person than Carol and Tommy. As much as it hurt, there was a great amount of relief knowing that he would have a positive influence in his life. And that made her angry at herself for still caring so much about him.

She briefly wondered what their friendship could have been like without Carol and Tommy involved, but that was something she couldn’t think about too long or she would either tell him everything she felt or do something else that she would equally regret.

So she tried to stay in the shadows as much as possible, sitting in new seats away from him in their classes and rushing out of class the second the bell rang.

Her house had become colder since the day her dad left and her mother began to either be out all the time or closing herself up in her room. Before all of this, she would have been out with Carol,  Nicole, or Steve, but she had become accustomed to eating dinners alone and spending her evenings doing homework in silence or music playing on the record player.

It was completely unusual for the phone to ring.

When she first heard it, she ignored it until she realized just how strange it was for someone to be calling. It could be her mom calling from work or a friend’s house, so she pushed herself up from her desk and walked over to the phone on her bedside table.

“Hello?”

“Jacqueline? It’s Nancy, Nancy Wheeler.”

“Hi, Nancy,” she said slowly, unsure as to why the girl would be calling her. Or how she had her phone number at all. She sat down on the bed and twirled the cord around her finger.

“Steve gave me your number,” Nancy explained as if she was reading her mind. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. What’s up?”

“This is going to sound crazy, but I need help.”

Jacqueline’s mind flooded with thoughts of what the girl could need her help with. Clothes? Date ideas?

But the request that came out of Nancy’s mouth shocked her so much that she almost lost her grip on the phone.

“I need someone to go with me to the woods. I’m going to find Barb.”

And, well, damn, she couldn’t say no when the confidence and determination was so strong in Nancy’s voice.

Jonathan Byers was there with Nancy when Jacqueline arrived. That was unexpected. She hadn’t said more than two words to him since high school began, and from the look on his face, that might not change anytime soon. His brother had just been buried that day and she couldn’t imagine he was going to be more talkative than usual.

Nancy looked relieved when she saw her and Jacqueline felt a surge of pride flow through her at being able to show up for someone. She held up a bag with a flashlight, thermos of hot tea, and a first aid kit in it.

“So, what the hell is going on?” She asked.

After listening to Nancy and Jonathan explain to her all about some Christmas lights, pictures of a monster in Steve’s backyard, and the idea that Will and Barb had been taken, the pair left her sitting on the trunk of her car in astonishment. It was obvious that they were whispering about her from the way Jonathan kept glancing over and shaking his head while they spoke.

It took a few minutes for all of the information to soak in, mostly that Jonathan didn’t believe that his brother was dead despite his body having been found, but she wasn’t going to let him make her feel like she didn’t belong there. She was in this now and, as determination flowed through her veins, she slid off the car and walked over.

Nancy looked at her expectantly and Jacqueline squared her shoulders and said, “Let’s find them.”

“Why are you doing this?” Jonathan asked her some time later. Nancy sent him a look before Jacqueline shrugged. It wasn’t a bad question. She was bored, sure, but this was potentially the most dangerous thing she could be doing.

“Barb has always been nice to me and not because she felt like she had to be.” Jacqueline was a normal teenager as far as she was concerned, even while she was riding Steve’s popularity. “Plus, your brother is a child. If someone has them, we have to do something.”

Jonathan seemed to be mulling this over before asking, “But shouldn’t you hate Nancy?”

“Sure,” she answered quickly. Nancy glanced at both of them in offense before Jacqueline hit her shoulder with her own. “But I don’t.”

They were all silent for a few minutes as they walked through the woods. To anyone else, they would look like an unlikely trio, but in that moment, with most of their feelings for one another out in the open, they made a good team.

“And don’t tell me how to feel, Byers,” she said suddenly, a firm tone to her voice. “I - I don’t let people dictate my actions anymore.”

And that was all that was said for a while. Until suddenly, she ended up split up from the other two, wandering off by herself. It wasn’t until she heard Jonathan yelling out Nancy’s name that she found him, running over to him with wide eyes.

“Jonathan, what’s going on?”

“She walked off and I can’t find her,” he said in a panic and she yelled out the other girl’s name before looking at him.

“It’s okay. We’ll find her. We can split up; I’ll go that way.” She pointed to her left with the flashlight but Jonathan quickly shook his head and pulled her after him, shouting out for Nancy repeatedly.

Then they heard a loud scream and Jonathan turned toward the sound, taking off towards it. Jacqueline ran as fast as she could after him, tripping over a branch and dropping her flashlight. By the time she got it, Jonathan was no longer in her sight, so she walked the direction he was going and waited to hear him or Nancy.

It didn’t take long to hear him and she started running again, hearing him telling Nancy to follow his voice. When she got to him, he was standing in front of a tree that had some sort of glowing goo on the side of it.

“What the hell?” She whispered to herself as Jonathan went closer to the tree and begged Nancy to come out. The shock was running through her body as a hand pushed through the tree and she screamed out, putting her hand over her own mouth before Jonathan realized that it was Nancy and began to pull her out.

Once the girl was out of the tree, a freaking tree, Jonathan and Nancy collapsed onto the ground and Jacqueline let herself close her eyes to take a deep breath.

What the hell was going on in this town?

[crushximagines]

Dream Come True

(A/N: Oh my god I literally do not know when the last time I touched this blog is.  Almost a year ago, for certain.  But idk recently I’ve feeling kinda writey and emo and thought it might be nice to revisit this blog.  So I went into my inbox, found a prompt I liked, and did this.  I experimented a bit with perspective for the first time.  Hope you like it! xx)

Anonymous asked: could you do one where there's a boy and girl best friend and everyone knows they're in love with each other except the two of them and somehow the truth comes out? Idk you can go wherever you want from there.

WC: 5146

(y/n) = your name

(c/n) = crush’s name

(f/n/1 or 2 or 3) = friend 1 or 2 or 3

(c/f/n/1 or 2 or 3) = crush’s friend 1 or 2 or 3

(g/n) = girl’s name

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

The class was silent as everybody scrambled to finish their math tests.  You had just finished, a few minutes ahead of everyone else, and were sitting back down in your desk after handing it in.  As you sat down, you took a precious half-second glance at the boy in the desk next to yours, (c/n).  You had been best friends with him for years.  You knew him inside and out, all his most and least favorite things, his little quirks, his insecurities.  And he knew all the same things about you.  He was your favorite person to be around; his presence always made you smile.  At times, you even began to think that you loved him, but you always quickly dismissed this thought from your mind.  Yes, you loved him platonically, but no, not like that.  Romance had a tendency to complicate things, and you loved the simplicity of your relationship with (c/n).  You would never want to complicate that.

But as you sat back down in your desk, you couldn’t help but wonder if it ever could be, and what it might be like.  A lot like what it is now, you imagined, but with another layer of intimacy.  You decided it would be better to distract yourself than think about him in this way, so you texted (f/n/1) instead.

Hey, are we still on for this afternoon?

You know it!!

Well, that short conversation didn’t do much to clear your head.  So you just went on Instagram to kill the time left between now and the very end of the day.  Then you’d be heading to (f/n/1)’s house with her and a couple of other friends, and you’d hang out with them until you went out to the movies in the evening.

You saw (c/n) get up out of the seat next to you and watched him turn his test in.  You smiled at him as he walked back to his seat.  “What’d you think?” you whispered to him.

He made a noncommittal gesture and a face that said he didn’t really know how he did, but it probably wasn’t great.  “And what about you?”

“Not my best.  That last question-”

“(Y/n), (c/n).  People are still testing.  Please hold your commentary until after the bell,” your teacher interrupted.  You and (c/n) shared a look and waited for the bell to ring.

As soon as it did, the two of you were immediately talking.  “God, that test was hard,” (c/n) said once the two of you were out of the classroom.

“I know.  At least it’s over now, I guess.”

“Yeah.  And what are you up to now that it’s over?”

“I’m gonna be heading over to (f/n/1)’s house, and we’re gonna see (idk whatever movie is out when you’re reading this lol) tonight,” you told him.

“Oh really?  I’ve been meaning to see that for a while now.”

“I’ll tell you how it is after I see it,” you said, “And you, (c/n), what are you going to do tonight?” “Pray for my math grade,” he half-joked, earning a laugh out of you, “no but seriously, not much.  I might hang out with (c/f/n), but I don’t know right now.  I might just take a six-hour nap instead.”

“Honestly, that doesn’t sound like too bad a plan.”  You and (c/n) joked around a little while longer until, seeing that you had reached (f/n/1)’s car, you said with a fake tear in your eye, “Well, it looks like it’s time for us to go our separate ways.”

“A true tragedy,” he said.

Cutting out the joke, you said your goodbyes.  You hopped into the passenger’s seat of (f/n/1)’s car and said hello.  “Talking to (c/n)?” she asked.

“Yeah,” you said, “just talking about that godawful math test.”

Suddenly you heard the door behind you open, and (f/n/2) entered the car.  “Hey!!” she said as she put her backpack on the floor.

You and (f/n/1) said hey right back.  “So, now we just have to wait for (f/n/3),” she said.

“Yep.”  Right after you said this, (f/n/3) conveniently arrived, and you were off to (f/n/1)’s house.

“So, what are we gonna be doing tonight?” (f/n/2) asked.

“Oh, we’ll figure it out, just like we always do.  We’ll probably order pizza around five and leave for the movie at 6:30 or so.”

“Sounds good!”

“Hey, do any of you guys want some music?” (f/n/1) asked, proper host she is.  (F/n/3) came through and put some music on.  You just took in the music and looked out the window all the way to (f/n/1)’s house, letting the conversation around you fade out while you thought about (c/n) and what he might be up to now.

(C/N)’S PERSPECTIVE

You said goodbye to your best friend, (y/n), and kept yourself from staring too much as she got into her friend’s car.  You wished that were your car she was getting into, as opposed to (f/n/1)’s.  It’s not like she had never been in your car before - she was actually one of its most frequent passengers, seeing as the two of you were so close - but you couldn’t help yourself from wanting to be with her more.  She was perfect in every way.  Smart, funny, kind, and it didn’t hurt that she was absolutely stunning.  You told yourself you were lucky to have her as a best friend who was always willing to help you with your problems as you unlocked your car, but you couldn’t help but long to have more with her.

You started up your car and put on some loud music to distract yourself from any thoughts of (y/n).  It didn’t help much, but you got home without incident.  You unlocked your front door and went inside.  You were glad it was the weekend, but a creeping sense of boredom overtook your mind.  Without (y/n) around, as she often is on Friday afternoons, you just felt empty.  Since she was with her other friends, you decided you should text one of your other friends, (c/f/n/1).

Hey man! You up to anything?

Not really, why?

You wanna hang out tonight? Go see a movie or something?

Sure!

The two of you made plans to get a couple of your other friends together and go see the movie (y/n) was gonna see tonight at 7:00.  If everything worked out, you’d all go get pizza beforehand.  It’d be nice to hang out with them, you thought.  You hadn’t seen them outside of school for a little while.  With the guarantee you’d be going out tonight, you went upstairs and set an alarm for 5:00 and took a nap.

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

All of a sudden, you felt yourself fall off the couch, and an even louder chorus of laughs from your friends erupted.  The four of you were playing Cards Against Humanity, and, as you should have expected, you were getting quite the laugh out of it.  So hard, in fact, that you were literally Rolling On the Floor Laughing.  After a few more seconds of wheezing, you pulled yourself together and got off the floor.  “God, (f/n/3),” you said, smiling and shaking your head a bit, “you are too funny.”

“What can I say, it’s a gift,” she responded.  “Man, what time is it?”

“4:47,” (f/n/2) said, quickly checking her phone.

“I guess we’d better find the menu for Tony’s, in that case,” (f/n/1) said.  She went into the kitchen and pulled it out of a drawer.  After a few minutes of perusal, the four of you made your choice, and (f/n/1) called the restaurant.  “Okay, they don’t have anybody delivering tonight, so one of us is gonna have to go an pick up the pizza in half an hour.”

“Man, that sucks,” (f/n/2) said, “nobody delivering on a Friday night.”

“Yeah,” you said.  “Hey, do you want me to pick it up?”

“Nah, I’ve got it,” (f/n/1) replied, “My car’s the one in the driveway, after all.”  You were cool with that, so the four of you got back to your game until (f/n/1) had to leave.

(C/N)’S PERSPECTIVE

You stand on the beach, facing the ocean.  There is nothing around you, save for the gray sky and cold air.  Suddenly, a lone figure rises out of the water, almost hovering above it.  You see that the figure is a woman, but can’t see who she is.  You walk closer to investigate.  As you step forward, so does she.  You stop as you reach the waterfront.  She also stops her march toward you.  Noticing that she mirrors your movements, you step to the right.  She moves to the left.  You step to the left; she moves to the right.  You resume your advance and find that, like the woman in front of you, you can walk on water.  Once you are close enough to discern the details of her countenance, you see that it is (y/n).  Smiling, you quicken your pace in order to reach her sooner.  When you finally do meet with her, you stop for a moment and appreciate her glowing beauty.  You reach out and take her hand in yours, amazed that you, simple (c/n) have been blessed with the ability to know such a perfect being.  She smiles and shyly looks down and then back up, into your eyes.  Her gaze lowers and locks onto your lips.  She takes your free hand in her own, takes a small step forward, and goes up to her tiptoes.  She moves her lips toward yours, you move your lips toward hers, and -

BEEP!  BEEP!  BEEP!

Heart pounding, you found your phone and turned the alarm off.  God, what was that dream?  Walking on water, walking towards (y/n), what did it mean?  All you knew was that you had a warm feeling in your stomach.  And you wished your alarm had gone off just a few seconds later.  But what was the point?  It was just a dream, nothing more.  Even if you could kiss (y/n) in your dreams, it wasn’t reality.  It never could be reality.  You would never mysteriously find yourself on a cold beach, you would never walk on water, and, most of all, you would never, ever kiss (y/n).  You would never touch her hand the way you did in the dream, she would never look at you like she did in the dream.  It was pointless to even think that that could happen.  She was too perfect for you.  A buzzing from your phone interrupted your reverie, and you saw that a text from (c/f/n/1) had just come in.

Hey dude! Are you ready to go?

You sent back a Yeah! that made you seem much more enthusiastic than you actually felt.  You just wanted to go back to that dream.  But you persisted and stuck to the plans you yourself made and got out of bed.  You stretched and yawned and dragged yourself downstairs.  Your phone buzzed again, and you saw that (c/f/n/1) had texted you back and said Okay! Meet us at Tony’s in a few minutes.  Ensuring that you were sufficiently awake, you drank a glass of water, put your shoes and coat on, grabbed your keys and wallet, and went out to your car.

Once outside, you noticed that the real world looked and felt a bit like your dream - overcast, a bit chilly.  You hoped that could be a sign but doubted it.  You were just going out with your friends, and that was it.  No (y/n), just the guys.

You arrived at Tony’s and saw a familiar-looking car next to yours.  Could that be… you thought to yourself, but you put any thought of (y/n) out of your mind.  She was at (f/n/1)’s house tonight, not out getting pizza.  She was going out tonight, but not to Tony’s, just to the movies.

You entered the restaurant and saw that (f/n/1) was at the counter, but (y/n) was nowhere to be seen.  I guess they’re just getting takeout, you thought.  She saw you looking at her and said hi.  “Oh, hey!” you said  “Hey, you’re hanging out with (y/n) tonight, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell her I said hi.”

“Alright,” she said.  She turned around to give the cashier her money, and you turned to go sit down with your friends.

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

(F/n/1) walked through her front door, pizza in tow.  (F/n/3) whooped, and all three of you immediately got up off the couch to get food.  (F/n/1) placed it on the counter and said, “Hey, (y/n).”

“Yeah?”

“(C/n) was there.  He says hi.”

“Oh, cool!  I guess he did decide to get out of the house tonight.”

“He wasn’t going to go out?” (f/n/2) asked.

“No, we were talking earlier, and he said he wasn’t sure what he was going to do tonight, that he might just nap instead of go out.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah.  You know, normally we hang out together on Friday nights, but since I’m with you, that wasn’t an option.  Was he there with anyone?”

“Probably.  He was just walking in, so I don’t know who he was with.  I saw (c/f/n/1) and (c/f/n/2) there, so I assume he was with them.  Although I did see (g/n) alone at a booth, so theoretically he could’ve been going in to meet with her,” (f/n/1) told you.

“Oh,” you said, your gaze lowering.  “Well, he said he might decide to go out with (c/f/n/1) tonight, so he was probably just going to meet with him and the guys.”

“(Y/n)?” (f/n/1) asked.

“Yeah?” you said, trying to play it cool on the outside, but internally keeping yourself from breaking at the prospect of him being with (g/n).  You had seen the two of them talking in the hallway recently, and oh god had he been asking her out?

“You seem a little on edge, you alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, it’s just…” you said, trailing off.

“(C/n)?”

“...Maybe.”

“You afraid he’s out with (g/n)?”

“...Maybe.”

“Don’t worry, you have nothing to worry about, honey.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Isn’t it obvious?  He likes you, not her!  God, you two are so blind!”

“R-Really?  He does?”

“Yes, (y/n), water is wet.”

“You should see the way he looks at you!” (f/n/3) said.

“Yes!” (f/n/1) said, “I saw him looking at you as you were getting into the car earlier!  I’ve never seen anybody look more in love.  You know what, (y/n)?  I’m going to text (c/f/n/2) and make sure (c/n) is with them.  Then this’ll all be sorted out.”

(C/N)’S PERSPECTIVE

“Yeah!  Ridiculous, right?  And then, even worse, he asked me if I even wanted to be on the team, as if the three practices I missed for a damn good reason outweighed the years I had dedicated to the team.  God, I’m so glad I’m done with him after this season,” (c/f/n/2) exclaimed.

“I’m with you there, Coach Reynolds is such a dick,” (c/f/n/1) said.  The table was silent for a moment, but that silence was interrupted by (c/f/n/2)’s phone ringing out.

“Oh, sorry, let me just uhh…” (c/f/n/2) said as he moved his eyes and attention to his phone to see who had texted him.

Hey (c/f/n/2)!! (C/n)’s with you, right?

Yeah, why?

Well, I mentioned to (y/n) that he said hi and she asked who he was with and I said I didn’t know but he could’ve been either with you or with (g/n) and then she started getting worried about him being with her so I wanted to make sure she knew there was no reason for her to be worried

Omg

When are they going to realize they like each other

If you mention what I said, tonight

(f/n/2) (f/n/3) and I made it clear to her just now that he likes her

Alright

Let’s see how this goes

*While (c/f/n/2) is texting*

“Hey, (c/n),” (c/f/n/1) said.

“Hm?” You looked up from your pizza when prompted.

“You’ve been kinda quiet tonight, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just kinda tired is all.  You know, after that math test, I needed some sleep so I went home and went right to sleep and didn’t wake up until right before you texted me.  And I had the weirdest dream, too, I still feel a little weird after that.”

“What was it?” (c/f/n/3) asked.

“No, you don’t wanna hear about it, you’d be bored,” you said in an effort to get your friends off of your back; you didn’t want to tell them about the dream where you almost kissed (y/n).  When, after a few seconds, they were still looking at you expectantly, you knew they wouldn’t let up, and you told them the abridged version: “Well, I was at a beach, but it wasn’t a nice and sunny beach like you’d want, but overcast and cold, it was honestly kinda spooky.  And then I noticed there was a girl standing on the water.  She was like 50 feet out and just standing there, almost hovering above the water.  So I was just like, ‘what is going on?’ and decided to go and check it out.  And as it turns out, I could walk on water, too!  So I kept going and noticed that she was mirroring all my motions - she started walking only when I did, only stopped when I did, I stepped to the right, she moved to the left, y’know.  So I kept going and I met up with her and then my alarm went off.”

“Huh,” (c/f/n/1) said.

“You were right,” (c/f/n/3) said, “that was a weird dream.  Maybe it was something about getting to know yourself or feeling powerful or something.”

“I don’t know, man,” you said.

(C/f/n/2), having finished his conversation, rejoined the conversation.  “And that was all?  You just got close enough to see her properly and then you woke up?”

“Well, I did touch her hand.  And her arm.  But yeah, that was pretty much it,” you said awkwardly.

“Did you know the girl?” (c/f/n/3) asked.  Great, just the question you’d been trying to avoid.  You shouldn’t have even brought it up.

“Um, maybe…” you said, looking down and rubbing the back of your neck.

“Hey, he clearly doesn’t wanna talk about it that much, so let’s leave him alone,” (c/f/n/1) said, saving you from your misery.  “(C/f/n/2), who were you just texting?”

“(F/n/1),” he said casually.

You looked up at the mention of her name, hoping she’d gotten your message across to (y/n).  “What’d she have to say?” you asked.

“Oh, just that (y/n) was asking about you.”

“Really?” you said, your mood visibly improving.

“Yeah she told me that when she told (y/n) that you said hi, she asked who you were with.  She said she didn’t know, either us or (g/n) - I guess she was waiting at another booth for somebody.  And so when (y/n) found out you might be with (g/n) she got concerned or whatever, kinda jealous, so (f/n/1) was just making sure with me.”

“Huh.  Jealous?”

“Yeah.  Jealous.  As in, she didn’t want you to be hanging out with (g/n).  As in, she’d rather you hang out with her than (g/n).  As in, she’s into you.”

“You sure?  I mean, we’re such good friends…”

“God, are you two the only ones who don’t know you like each other?”

“Seriously!  I saw her looking at you after the math test today, and trust me, you can tell by the way she looks at you when she thinks nobody's looking that she really, really likes you,” (c/f/n/3) said.

“And by the way you look at her when you think nobody’s looking,” (c/f/n/2) half-joked.

Upon finding this out, you couldn’t help but smile.  You finally had confirmation that (y/n) felt the same way about you as you did about her.

“Hey, (c/n)?” (c/f/3) asked.

“Yeah?”

“Was (y/n) the girl in your dream?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, the literal girl of your dreams likes you back.”  After hearing this, you spent the rest of the night beaming.

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

“Oh man, was that pizza good,” (f/n/2) said.

“You are so right,” you said, lying on the couch, almost too full to move.  But, as (f/n/1) was about to point out, it was almost time to leave for the movies, so you sat up and stretched.  You saw your phone light up next to you and saw that (c/n) texted you.  This would have brought a smile to your face under ordinary circumstances, but after today’s revelation, this made your heart sing.

Hey (y/n)!! You’re going to see (movie you want to see), right?

Yeah, are you gonna go see it too?

Yep!  (c/f/n/1), (c/f/n/2), (c/f/n/3), and I are about to leave for there

So much for just napping tonight 😂

But yeah (f/n/1), (f/n/2), (f/n/3), and I are about to leave too!! I guess I’ll see you there :)

See ya!

You stood up and walked over to get your shoes on.  “(C/n) just texted me and he and the guys are going to the movie too!”  You received a couple of ooohhs at this.

“Do you think you wanna sit with him?” (f/n/1) asked.

“Maybe!  It’d be cool if all of us could sit with all of them.”

“And have you two sit next to each other?” (f/n/2) asked.

“Of course!” you said, with a little wink.  The four of you made your way out to the car.  Your three friends treated this as a normal night out to see a movie, but you saw it as so much more.  This was the first time you’d be seeing him with the knowledge that was as much into you as you were into him.  You couldn’t help but wonder if his friends had given him the same kind of talk as yours had given you this afternoon on the way to the movies.  You hoped they did.  You really hoped they did.

(C/N)’S PERSPECTIVE

You were almost shaking you were so excited.  Seeing (y/n) always made you happy, and the fact that, according to your friends, your not-so-secret feelings were requited, made seeing her even sweeter.  You stood in line with your friends, eagerly awaiting her arrival.  “Hey, (c/f/n/2), do you think she knows how I feel about her?” you whispered to your friend.

“Even a few hours ago, I would’ve doubted it, since you guys are so painfully oblivious to one another’s true feelings, but, when I was texting (f/n/1), she said she had just told (y/n), so yes.  I do think she knows you feel about her.”

Just at that moment, (y/n) and her friends entered the cinema.  You smiled a big smile upon seeing her.  “Hey!!” you greeted all of them, but mainly (y/n).

“Hey!!” she said, “So you ended up getting out tonight!”

“Yeah!  You mentioned this movie and I figured, as much as I’d love to pass out for several hours, I can do that at any time, but this movie will only be out for so long.”

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

“Exactly!” you said to (c/n) at his joke.  He always knew how to make you laugh.  It was a little weird being with him, knowing that the two of you were into each other without having discussed it, but you just talked with him as you usually do, laughing and joking at everything.

Even though your two groups entered the building separately, you collectively decided to enter the theater all together.  All eight of you sat together, with you and (c/n) in the middle.  If the two of you were between any other people, it might have been awkward, but, seeing as these people had basically set you up and completely supported you, you didn’t mind too much.

The movie started out normal, just as though it were a perfectly normal group of friends seeing a movie together, but, as time progressed, you began to get closer to (c/n).  Part of the way through, you put your head on his shoulder.  He soon put his hand on your knee, and you took this hand in your own.  Every once in a while, you would nuzzle his shoulder or grab his hand a bit tighter.  Having been best friends for so long, you had touched each other before, but not like this.  You hadn’t ever held his hand before or rested your head on his shoulder in such a way that felt so… intimate.  Those other times you had cuddled with him while watching scary movies on Friday nights or cried on his shoulder when life was getting too tough were nice, but this was so, so much better.

(C/N)’S PERSPECTIVE

Oh. My. God. you thought, This is happening. This is happening. This is happening.

Before now, you had wondered if anything would actually happen during the movie - if you would just appreciate it like you had so many movies before or if you would appreciate each other’s company more than the movie.  As it turned out, the latter happened.  While you were debating making a move - taking her hand in yours or putting your arm around her - she rested her head on your shoulder.  Then you put your hand on her knee, and she took it in her own.  You just couldn’t believe that this was real.  You had thought about something like this happening so many times before, but those fantasies had nothing on this reality.  This definitely beat staying at home.

After a while of staying in that bliss, the movie ended, and it was time to go home.  “Hey, (y/n), do you need a ride?” you asked her in the blinding lobby of the theater.

“Yeah, that would be really nice,” she responded in a gentle tone.  The two of you then made your way out to your car, for once in your life, wordlessly.  You and (y/n) were always talking, but tonight, you just silently shared your happiness.  Once in the car, you started it up, and she put on some music.  “I had a really nice time tonight, (c/n),” she said.

“M-me too,” you said.  You let a quiet moment go by and asked, “So, how was your afternoon with (f/n/1) and everybody?”

“It was nice, we got pizza.”

“Oh, so did we.  I saw (f/n/1) at Tony’s.”

“Yeah, she told me you said hi,” she said.  “Actually, she told me that you might have been there with (g/n), and, I’ll be honest, I had a little bit of an internal freakout.  I guess I didn’t want you to be out with her.”

“I heard.” “You did?”

“Yeah, (f/n/1) told (c/n/2), and he told me.”

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

Oh, god. you thought.  You didn’t realize he’d found out about that already.  Oh, well.

“You hear anything else?”

“I heard that we’re - and I quote - painfully oblivious to one another’s true feelings,” he laughed.  And you did, too.

“I heard that, too!  Crazy what you don’t know about your own best friend, isn’t it?”

“Totally!” he said, “but in all seriousness, I wouldn’t say we’re so out of touch with one another.  It’s just… different with stuff like this.”

“You’re telling me.  So… I assume you heard a lot of the same stuff I did tonight, right?”

“That we’re the only two people in the world that don’t realize that we’re madly in love with each other?”

“Yeah, so, is that… legit?  Is my unrequited love actually requited?”

“Is mine?”

“Yes.  Definitely.  Without a doubt.  Affirmative.”  You smiled and felt the weight of this revelation, or, more accurately, the weight being lifted off of your shoulders.

“Nice,” he said.  “So, uh, this is official?  We’re a thing now?”

“I believe so.”  As you said this, (c/n)’s car parked in front of your house.  You turned to look at him and just smiled at him for what was probably seconds but felt like hours.  “I guess I’ll see you soon.”

“I guess so,” he said.  You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to get out of his car.

(C/N)’S PERSPECTIVE

You saw (y/n) going to get out of your car and couldn’t just leave it at “I guess I’ll see you soon.”  Riding on the largest wave of courage you had ever mustered, you uttered one syllable.  “Wait.”

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

You turned back around.  What was he doing?

(C/N)’S PERSPECTIVE

You reached out and touched her arm, pulling her closer to you.

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

Oh my god.  This is happening.

(C/N)’S PERSPECTIVE

Oh my god.  This is happening.

YOUR PERSPECTIVE

And in that moment, you succumbed to his kiss.  It was tender and sweet, the product of years of mutual longing.  His hand rested on your arm, and you cupped his face with yours.  In that moment, everything felt right.  Your lips and his eventually parted, and then you just looked into each other’s eyes for a few moments.  He wore a look of wonder - of awe - on his face.  In all honesty, you probably did, too.  The impossible did just happen, after all.

(C/n) looked down and cleared his throat.  “Good night, (y/n).”

“Good night.”  With a twinge of bittersweetness, you opened the car door and started back to your house.  As you were about to step in the door, you turned around and gave one last wave to (c/n).

(C/N)’S PERSPECTIVE

You watched (y/n) walk away, stunned that you had just done that.  You put your head against your headrest, one thought on repeat in your mind.

My dream just came true.

[sherrybaby14]

Who Am I? Part 9

tSummary:  My take on A/B/O with Marvel.  You open up to one and open up for another.  

Warnings:  Smut, light non/Con

Pairing:  Bucky x Reader (light this chapter) Steve x Reader

Words: 3100 

Tags: @divadinag @ariwolff14 @mrssgtjamesbuckybarnes @marauderice @el-bucky @kellyn1604 @negan--is--god @theariel85

               The bubbles were starting to fizzle out and the warm soapy water had eased aches you didn’t realize you had.  

               “It took a long time, but I never would have been able to come back from what HYDRA did to me if it wasn’t for Steve.”  James ran his fingers up and down your arm as your back laid against his chest.  

                 Your heart was breaking for the poor Alpha. There was no way anyone should have to endure such horrors.  

                 “That’s why my room is so…dungeon like,” James continued. “I haven’t had the chance to update it yet.”

                 “Why it locks from the outside?” You remembered being locked in with him and not seeing a keyhole on the inside.

                 “It’s soundproof too, I did a lot of yelling, nothing in there to break easily.”  He let out a sigh.  “It’s been better for about a year now, I really should redecorate.  Maybe you could help?”

                 You looked over your shoulder and saw your Alpha smiling down at you, your mouth let out a sigh and you didn’t close it as you took in his face.  He just explained the tragedy that was his life and still managed to have a positive outlook.  

                 “I’m at peace with everything that was done to me, everything that I’ve done.”  He stroked your hair. “It led me back to Steve, who is closer to me than any blood family member, and now it led us to you.  A little wayward Omega who needs help, just like I did.”

                 You couldn’t believe he didn’t hate you.  His reprogramming was done against his will by mad scientists while you chose to reprogram yourself.  You lowered your eyes in shame.  James rolled you onto your side, so your legs were between his still, but your head was nestled on his chest.  

                 “Neither of us blame you, nobody blames you.” He continued to pet your head. “Stop blaming yourself, I know it’s hard, but it’s part of moving forward.”

                 You swore the James’ heart was so large you could see it glowing beneath his skin.  The bathwater had cooled, but you wanted to spend the rest of the day in here with the man you just met, but felt like knew you better than anyone.

                 “When I was fourteen and they came for my sister, I was terrified.” You had only given him the basics of your life story thus far. “She turned sixteen and I knew something was off.  My dad was a Beta, my mom an Alpha, so it was a possibility. My dad was happy for her, but my mom, she was almost disappointed. She wouldn’t come out and say it, but I could see the look in her eye.”

                 James continued to stroke your hair.

                 “She was a chemist, taught at a large school, lots of grants and awards. A woman I wanted to be like.” Memories of your mother were always tough to reimagine. “She tried to raise me and my sister to be strong, independent, focus on science and math. Creativity was secondary, facts were important, grades were important.  Both of us idolized her.”

                 You realized you were getting off track.

                 “My sister, Margery, she presented and my parents called the agency.  We had less than an hour to say goodbye.  She was confused and scared, my mom and dad comforted her and told her it was for the best. That this way she would have the life suited for her. By the time her escorts came the fear was gone, it was like she was excited.”  You practically blocked that memory. “She hugged each of us goodbye and left right away.  A representative talked to my parents and filled out paperwork for about an hour, left us with a pamphlet about where Margery would be staying and visiting rules.”

                 The hurt that your relationship with your sister was reduced to so little so fast still stung.  

                 “I asked my parents if that would happen to me? Would I be an Omega too?”  The pleading in your voice carried through from the past. “My mom told me, Y/N, it’s not if you will be an Omega, its if you are an Omega, and only time will tell.”

                 The matter-of-fact way your mother delivered the sentence was typical to her, but you remember wanting some compassion at that point, some reassurance.  

                 “A month later we went to visit Margery.” You needed to continue on with your story. “She was a different person. Dropped all math and science, said she found them silly and a waste of her talents now.  She was taking art courses and was about to start life courses, at least that’s what she called them, but essentially it was about Alphas and courting rules.”

                 You went quiet, thinking about the look on your sister’s face.

                 “Was she unhappy?” James asked.

                 “No. Not at all.  She was excited.  The girl I grew up with, who was much more adept at chemistry than I was, who’s dream was to be an astronaut, who was more interested in mapping stars than dreaming on them abandoned everything and was happy about it.”  You still felt like that confused teenager. “She was a different person. I came up with every excuse in the book not to visit her again. I think I saw her two more times over the years. Then right after she turned eighteen she found a match, got claimed, and moved across  the country. She’s essentially a name on a Christmas card list.”

                 “Maybe she always wanted to be an artist, maybe she just focused on the other aspects to please your mother.” James’ chimed in. “Especially if she was an Alpha.”

                 “It’s possible.” That thought had crossed your mind over the years. “But I couldn’t know that, and I genuinely loved science. I was terrified of presenting as Omega and losing myself.”

                 “How did you know?” If James was getting upset by your story he was hiding it well. “If you started the pills at fifteen, how did you know?”

                 “I didn’t.” You shrugged. “But I took some of Margery’s hair from her brush, and confiscated her old tooth brush.  I had access to my mother’s lab on campus all summer and made up a profile.  Then I looked for similar markers in my own.  I couldn’t find any, but I made my first creation based off of Margery.  As I got closer to sixteen I decided to take it, just to be safe.

                 “Then when I turned sixteen, I knew.  I knew right away, but nobody else did.” You smiled. “My parents celebrated my birthday without any phone calls to government agencies, my friends at school got me little gifts, my teachers continued to call on me.  The pill had worked. Over the years I adapted  and perfected it, realizing it never would have worked in the first place if me and my sister weren’t related.  The gene profile is very unique.  There’s no way this thing could be mass produced and distributed, every Omega would require a special formula.”  

                 “Now that you’re off of it, outside of obvious changes do you feel differently about anything?” James asked.

                 “Not really.” You shook your head. “I wish I would have paid more attention to Omega biology, instead of the chemical side of it. You and Steve obviously have some Alpha tricks.  My emotions are all over the place, but I still love science. I don’t have any desire to take up a new field.”

                 “Do you want to talk to your sister?”  James sat up a little. “Would that make you feel better? To have another Omega to guide you?”

                 “No.” You pushed off of his chest and looked at him with wide eyes. “I don’t trust anyone.  She would turn to her Alpha and there would be cars to come get me in a second. I would have to explain my age and how I hid for so long, and you and Steve would be arrested, maybe Tony and Bruce too.”

                 “Shhhh.”  James pulled your back against him. “Steve and I will help you.  Nobody else has to know.  When you’re claimed we will come up with an alternate explanation.”

                  You thought back to Bruce’s earlier question about dual claims.  Could both of them claim you?  Or would it just be Steve?  You felt a headache coming on and closed your eyes.  There was enough to worry about at the moment and the two of them would figure out what was best for you.  

                 “Alright Doll, let’s get you out of the tub.” James sat forward and swirled you around as he stood in a single motion.  

                 The water dripped off of your bodies as he stepped onto the tile.  You took some initiative and reached out, grabbing the towel and throwing it around his shoulders.   The Terry cloth was almost as large as the tub was and James repositioned it so it draped over your shoulders as well.  A yawn escaped your mouth as he left the bathroom and went out into his bedroom.  

                 “Get some sleep little Omega.  Everything will be okay.”  He laid you down on the bed.  

                 You didn’t want to sleep, but your body had other ideas. The sun was still up in the sky, but the blackout blinds were starting to lower.  They stopped before the room went completely black.

                 “I don’t want you to worry about a thing.” James’ kissed your foreheaed. “Let Steve and I take care of you.”

                 He ended his sentence with a slight purr and your heart warmed.  A smile crossed your lips and you were asleep before he even closed the door.

~~~  

               The door creaked open and your eyelids fluttered. Even surrounded by James’ sheets you could smell it was Steve.  The smile you fell asleep with returned.  Your Omega traits were getting stronger by the day.  

                 “Sorry to wake you.”  Steve sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed your leg that was sticking out from the sheet. “Do you want something to eat?”

                 “I’m fine.” You sat up in bed and let out a yawn, really hoping that this sleep BS would end. “Still no appetite.”

                 “Bucky mentioned how sore you are.”  The light from the open door flooded the room and Steve moved closer, running his hand up your thigh. “Do you want to take a break?”

                 “I would rather be sore then the alternative.” You bit your lip and shook your head, remembering how you behaved like an animal, screaming and threatening them.

                 “Maybe we could try something else.” Steve stood up and offered you a hand.

                 You realized he was holding a T-shirt and you pulled it over your head before standing.  It was grey and came to your upper thigh, just long enough that if you raised your hands in the air it would still expose nothing. You debated on asking Steve for your stuff, but didn’t want to come off ungrateful for his t-shirt, so you stayed silent as you slipped your palm into his and let him guide you out of James’ bedroom.

                 “What time is it?” You hated the disorientation that came with sleeping all the time.

                 “Almost four.” Steve didn’t hesitate to respond. “I’ll get you a watch.”

                 “Maybe a calendar too?” The days were starting to blur into one.  It was just last night you met James, right? It was hard to tell because your heart and body felt like you had known both of these men your whole life.

                 “No cellphone?” Steve smiled over his shoulder at you. “I thought Bucky and I were ole fashion, even we have those now.”  

                 “I have a cellphone, had I guess.” You remember it being taken away from you the first night your nature was discovered. “It wasn’t a smart phone though.”

                 “Well.” Steve got to the bottom step and wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you against his chest and into the air, you responded by putting your arms around his neck. “We’ll have to fix that.”

                 “You’re getting me a phone?” You thought about being able to text him when he wasn’t around or maybe challenge him to one of those games your colleagues were always playing.

                 “Soon.”  Steve pressed his forehead to yours.  His eyes went serious and you realized both of yours mistake.  He lowered you to the ground and placed a soft kiss on your lips before you were too short for him. You felt so small that Steve looked taller than before. “In the meantime I will get you your calendar and a watch.”

                 “Thank you.”  You smiled at him, not wanting him to think you were disappointed.  It wasn’t safe for you to have a phone, in the event you relapsed you would put them all in danger.  

                 “If there is anything you want, just ask.” Steve led you towards the couches. “I’d bring you the moon if I could.”

                 “Maybe some of my clothes?” You tugged the bottom of the t-shirt. “And Bruce got me a tablet, I’d like that back too.”

                 Steve’s brow furrowed and he shook his head.

                 “Oh, it’s not a big deal if you can’t.” You regretted asking. “I understand.”  

                 You didn’t.

                 “I don’t want you to worry about a thing.”  Steve sat down and pulled you next to him, his arm over your shoulders. “Tony is treating your old apartment like a quarantined zone.  He said you didn’t own much?”

                 “I have a storage unit back home.” You shook your head. “That has the family photos and the heirlooms.  I travel light.”

                 The implication was too obvious. It was in case someone found you out and you had to run.  Steve didn’t comment about your use of the word travel since that was a bend in the truth too.  Your time working for Dr. Banner was indefinite.  

                 “Not anymore.”  Steve pushed your hair back. “I’d like to see those family photos someday. You can take me on a tour of your home town.”

                 “I’d like that very much.”  You move your face closer to his and kiss him.  It surprises you as much as it seems to surprise him since his body tenses up.  

                 A second later he relaxes and grabs onto your shoulder as his lips part.  You let out a soft moan of instant appreciation as your tongues dance and the tingles return.  The T-shirt starts to feel like too much, fuck your old clothes and any others, all you want is skin-to-skin.  You reach for the hem, when Steve pulls back.  His hands are on yours, pushing your shirt down.   Confusion spreads over your face. Why is he stopping?

                 “Your sore.” Steve turns you back so your sitting next to him. “Your body needs a break.”

                 Any aches you were feeling vanished when you started to kiss.  You turn back towards Steve and start kissing his neck.

                 “Trust me, there’s only one thing I’m feeling right now and it’s not sore.” You nip at his ear.

                 “You’re making this hard.”  Steve turned his face towards yours.

                 “Good.”  You smash your lips against his and let your hand press against his chest.  

                 As you make-out you slide your hand down, over his t-shirt and then over his jeans.  It doesn’t take long to find the outline of his cock and you grip it, your heart flaring, feeling like it’s been too long since it was with Steve. God you wanted him.  

                 “Stop.”  Steve breaks the kiss, his hands are gently pushing you away as he stands up.  

                 You whimper and pull your legs under you on the couch, any injuries you may have been facing cleared up with the hot bath and the nap.  Steve wouldn’t turn you down.  

                 “Please.” You grab his hand. “I need you.”  

                 It wasn’t a lie.  You physically needed him.

                 “And I want you.”  Your eyes flashed at him.

                 He squinted his shut and bit the inside of his cheeks.  Then he shook his head and jumped over the couch.  You watched as he practically ran to the kitchen area.  He returned with a plastic cup and wondered what it was.

                 “As your Alpha, I won’t risk harm coming to you again.”  Steve walked down the steps and then back over to you. “I want you as badly as you want me, but your health is more important than anything in the universe.”

                 “But...what about my mental health?” Your gut wrenched thinking about lapsing.

                 “Here.” Steve handed you the cup.  

                 You looked inside and then back up to him several times, with a pretty good idea of what was in the cup.

                 “Bucky and I came up with the idea.” Steve was dead serious. “If you drink it, it will have the same effect, but then your body can take a break.”

                 The deposit in the cup clearly came from Bucky. You were unsure if you should be flattered or insulted.  

                 “That won’t work.” Without laughing you set the cup on the coffee table and shook your head.

                 “You don’t know that.”  Steve rubbed your arms. “I know it’s more pleasurable the old fashioned way, but you’re still ingesting DNA.”

                 “I appreciate the effort.”  Your hands went to Steve’s fly. “And the thought that went into it,  but the only way that would work would be if it was under a minute old.”

                 You undo his zipper and tug at his pants.

                 “I would love to explain the science to you, but if you think I need to ingest cum another way, I’d prefer it came directly from the source.”  Steve didn’t stop you as you pulled his jeans down, his cock springing forward.

                 You took a breath and dropped to your knees between his legs.  You let out a breath and examined his dick, you had felt it inside you enough over the last week or so, but this was the first time you got a close up view. It looked as large as it felt.  There was no doubt it was getting bigger as your eyes took it in.  

                 “You can touch it.”  Steve’s voice drew your eyes up.  

                 There was a hunger on his face, one that told you he wasn’t expecting this, truthfully neither were you.  Your hand reached out and your fingertips traced the underside, you slid your fingers around, gripping it with your palm and felt it pulse, making you drop it immediately.

                 “I may have talked a bigger game than I’m capable of.” You swallowed hard and looked up at him. “I don’t know what to do.”

                 “It’s alright.”  Steve put his hand under your chin.

                 You started to stand up when his hand slides to the back of your head.  He is not forcing you, but there is enough pressure to let you know he doesn’t want you to move.

                 “I’ll help you.” Steve slid his hand away. “If that cup won’t work it’s either this or lock you in Bucky’s room until you’ve had time to heal.”

                 Your heart broke.  Steve thought you didn’t want to; your six hours must have almost been up.

                 “It’s not that.” You licked your lips. “I’m scared I won’t make you feel good.”

                 “Baby you only make me feel good.” He seemed to relax. “If you get uncomfortable, just stop and we will figure something else out.”

                 You nod and your eyes go back to his cock.  You glance back up at him and return to your knees, awaiting instruction.

                 “Kiss the tip.” Steve’s eyes lock onto yours.

                 You don’t look away, wanting to see appreciation in his gaze. Your lips brush the top, then you pull away a centimeter before puckering again.  The skin of his dick is soft against your mouth.  You lick your lips again and then place them down.  His eyes flash and you realize your first lesson.  Wet is better.

                 You open your mouth and trace your tongue in a circle around his head. His chest lets out a low rumble, one almost inaudible and you repeat the action a few times.  

                 “Use your whole mouth.” Steve’s voice is encouraging.  You appreciate the instructions as well as the tone.

                 Your lips lower taking the entire helmet into your mouth.  Your tongue circles up to the tip.

                 “That feels great.”  Steve squeezes your shoulder. “Keep your mouth wet, don’t be afraid to suck.”

                 You let saliva pool and make small sucking motions with your mouth.  Steve’s expression lets you know he is enjoying this.  A taste hits your tongue and you stop all motions and break eye contact.

                 “Don’t stop.” Steve grabs your hand. “Do the same thing, but bob up and down, trying to take more in each time.”

                 You ignore him.  Your tongue retraces it’s steps and again the taste explodes.  It’s coming from his tip.  You flick your tongue back and forth across.  Words cannot come to your mind to describe how good the taste is.  It’s like all your favorite foods mixed with rainbows, or whatever your brain thinks rainbows might taste like.  You lick it all away and your tongue flickers back, there isn’t anymore.

                 “That was a little precum.” Steve lightly touches the back of your head. “It’s not enough for you.”

                 You debated on hitting his hand away, but truthfully you only had one thing on your mind.  Getting more.  You started sucking harder this time, your mouth salivating over the memory of that taste. It was like eating a hamburger and being able to taste the grass the cow had ate the day it was born.  The first meal it had ever had. Maybe it was more like eating a berry and being able to taste the sunshine it had absorbed.

                 Either way it didn’t matter.  You gulped and swallowed as a small amount of the taste came back.

                 “Y/N.”  Steve let out a groan. “I thought you said you didn’t know what you were doing.”

                 You whined, but it came out as more of a hum when the small amount disappeared.   You started lapping at his cock as you continued to suck and move your head up and down.  You weren’t doing this action because Steve requested it, you were doing it on instinct now, as if his cock contained serum and it was your job to coax it out.  

                 Spit was running down his shaft and you relaxed your throat and opened your mouth wider than you thought possible and took more of him in.  Noises and bits of praise came from Steve, but you didn’t care.  You weren’t doing this for him, you were doing it for you.  

                 When your attempts at swallowing him whole didn’t work, he was just too large, you let out a moan and went back to bobbing, sucking, and licking. Then you felt it coming, like his cock grew harder for a few seconds.  A vibration came from your mouth and then deliciousness hit you everywhere. You sealed your lips around him, scared that you were going to waste a single drop.  

                 Your breath was heavy and you refused to slide your mouth off of him, rubbing your tongue up and down, making sure you got all of his cum.  When it started to settle tingles went through out your entire body.  A feeling of Euphoria.  You felt like you were floating, but it was just an action by Steve. Soon you were in his place and he was between your legs.  

                 “Don’t worry.”  He pushed your shirt up. “I’m only going to focus on your clit, won’t hurt you at all.”

                 You had no objection as it became painful aware that you were soaking wet.  His mouth attached to you and the first orgasm hit almost instantly.  You gasped for breath as he flicked his tongue against you, wondering if you tasted as good to him as he had to you.  You hoped the answer was yes, because you wanted Steve to feel as good as you had going down on him.