#shoulders pumpkin subway

[boynextdoorcoverpoison]

would just like to thank sungho and whichever stylist that decided to put him in a crop top. doing god’s work fr

[bandsanitizer]

completely normal about this park sungho

[jeannineee]

how they love you

(ft. satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, megumi fushiguro, yuji itadori)

author's note: requests are open <3 some lil' drabbles for our boys while i work on smau. also this is just my opinion so if you disagree then cope pls.

warnings: none, i think? maybe some suggestiveness

Satoru Gojo is a passionate lover. He loves you proudly and without reservation. Declarations made without fear, love expressed without hesitation. The type of man to stand outside of your house with a 70s boombox in the rain. Cheesy pickup lines despite being together for years. A new dress and matching jewelry on silk sheets for your weekly date night. No gift is too pricey, no public display of affection too crass to be bestowed upon the person he loves most.

"Did you see her? That's my wife!"

"Let's play titanic: you be the iceberg and I'll go down--ow! I'm sorry. Not really, though. Love you, pumpkin."

"We're going to Bora Bora for the weekend. No, you don't get to argue. Get your ass in the car."

Suguru Geto is a devoted lover. Heart-eyes from the moment you graced him with your presence. Adoring gazes from afar. Committing every inch of you into his memory. Studying the complex puzzle that is your mind, and solving it with every word out of your mouth. Your conversations are religious text, your body an altar at which he will always worship.

"What am I staring at? Just you."

"Tell me again. Yes, from the beginning. I want to hear it all."

"You're not boring me. I love hearing you talk."

Kento Nanami is an understanding lover. Knowing what you need before the words ever leave your mouth. Having your daily rituals memorized. Reminding you to drink water. A homecooked meal while you talk about your day. A fresh vase of flowers on the counter every Thursday. Rushed kisses shared in the morning before heading off to work. Comfortable silence. A beacon of stability in a world that is chaotic.

"Laundry is already done. Come sit with me."

"I bought more of that perfume you like. I saw you were running low."

"I love who you are now, and I will love the person that you become."

Megumi Fushiguro is a quiet lover. Pinkies intertwined as you walk to your favorite cafe. Sharing earbuds on the subway. Leaving his sweaters at your house, and loving the sight of you wearing them. Sharing his food with you. Holding your shopping bags. Halfhearted glares when you try to foot the bill. Shushing your rambling with a kiss. Telling you he loves you without directly saying the words.

"I bought this yesterday. It made me think of you."

"You mean everything to me, y'know?"

"I think you should keep it. It looks better on you."

Yuji Itadori is a doting lover. A golden retriever in human form. Hugs from behind, kisses on your shoulder. Holding things out of your reach, and a kiss being the ransom. Grinning whenever you enter the room. Talking about you even when you aren't around. Pictures taken in your sleep. Very cuddly. Could likely be compared to a koala hanging onto a tree. (You are his tree.)

"You look very pretty today."

"Have I ever told you how much I love you? Well I'm telling you again."

"She's perfect. Did you know she likes--oh. Sorry, Gojo-sensei."

[dabisqueen]

trick or treat

Trick or Treat

Ghost/Dabi x fem!Reader x Konig/Shigaraki

⇢ word count: roughly 3.2K ⇢ plot: It's Halloween and you make the mistake of knocking at the wrong door.  ⇢ warnings: Minors DNI, tw smoking, consensual rough sex, rough kissing, rough manhandling, a bit of degradation, slapping, oral sex (m receiving), deep throating, cum in throat, unprotected PIV-sex, anal fingering, deep creampie, Ghost and Konig aka Dabi and Shiggy are actual sweethearts and take care of the reader later ⇢ A huge shoutout to my beta @blankexpressions-and-falsefires. without you, this wouldn't happen. without you, this wouldn't be as great. i am forever grateful for your help!

You and your friends were on your way to a Halloween party, which was going to take place in an old warehouse. The invites had been distributed months ago already, and everyone had been looking forward to it. 

What you were wearing wasn't very unique at all: Black high-heel boots combined with a short, ruffled red velvet skirt, a black petticoat underneath, and a matching red underbust corset. It pushed your boobs up so high that they nearly popped out any time you bent over. Thankfully, a white, off-shoulder blouse helped to keep a little bit of your decency intact. The last finishing touch was a red velvet cape. 

You guessed it—you'd picked the Little Red Riding Hood as this year's costume.

Getting off the subway station, your group walked down the dimly lit street, the wind blowing leaves and scraps of garbage along the street. The clacking sound of your high heels echoed off the walls and you wrapped your cape tighter around you and hoped that the warehouse would offer some shelter from the cold. Trying to avoid the cracks in the concrete with your pointy heels, you followed the rest of the crowd—as something off to the side caught your attention. 

A lone, lit pumpkin sat at a shabby door, a flickering lamp above it shedding just a bit of light.

“Hey girls!” you called out. “There's someone inviting trick-or-treaters over here!”

Your friends stopped and looked at the door you were pointing at. Nonetheless, they turned while your best friend called over “It's just a prank, forget about it!”

“I want some candy, though.” Pursing your lips into a pout, you stalked over to the other side of the street, calling over to the rest of your small crowd, “Go on ahead. I'll catch up to you later!” 

You didn't mind them rolling their eyes at you—cause you have been known to have the sweetest tooth of them after all.

Taking a deep breath you raised your hand and knocked on the door. Once. Twice.

No answer. 

Okay, you reason, it was just a prank. Just as you were about to turn, you heard voices closing in behind the door.

"Didn't think anyone would fall for this shit.” A dark voice hissed. “What kind of dumbass are they?"

"Beats me." Another husky voice spoke.

The door swung open and you inhaled sharply. Before you stood two men dressed head to toe in combat suits, one of them wearing a sniper hood, the other a Balaclava complete with a hard plastic skull attached to the disguise. 

Each of them was a character from the game Call of Duty– Konig and Simon “Ghost” Riley. 

The one dressed as Ghost casually leaned against the door frame. His eyes scanned over you, and your gut tightened, watching the brilliant cerulean of his irises take you in. His skull Balaclava, obscuring any other feature on his face, sent chills down your spine. The other's smoldering amber gaze grazed the curves of your body and lingered especially long on your décolleté before stopping back at your face. As far as you could make out, they both looked well-toned, and your gut instinct told you that they were stunningly attractive underneath those masks. Your heart started beating faster.

“Oh, look what we have here.” The man dressed as Konig mused in a sneering tone. “If it ain't Little Red Riding Hood.”

“What a coincidence—" his friend chuckled, his voice low and husky. "Cause you can consider us the Big Bad Wolves—”

It sent goosebumps crawling up your spine,  but you still bravely muttered with a shaky voice, “T-trick or t-treat?”

Konig and Ghost looked at one another, chuckling, before their gazes went back to you. 

"You really looking for a treat, little red?" Ghost cocked his head, brilliant blue seemingly burning into you.

Both men's lustful stares were unmistakable as they looked at your body with a desire mirroring the feeling that rose quickly in your chest.

"U-uhm, I guess?" You stuttered, heat rising into your ears now.

“Treat it is,” he said. With that, his strong fingers circled your wrist and he pulled you inside, Konig slamming the door shut behind you.

A shriek left your throat when he pressed you against the wall, his ghostly mask hovering right in front of you.

"You really want this?" He asked, tilting his head, "We'll only proceed if you do."

One hand propped him against the wall, the other trapped your jaw between thumb and forefingers. His hips wedged you in place and it sent a jolt of pleasure right between your thighs. You shamelessly squeezed them together, cheeks starting to glow with fear—and excitement.

"I-I don't know," you licked your lips as subtly as you could, and you could swear you felt him twitch in his pants. 

His eyes fixated on your lips as he pulled the Balaclava down from beneath the skull, tucking the fabric under his chin to reveal the lower half of his face. His lips alone, sharp and sultry, had you aching for more.

"I think you do," Ghost chuckled, his warm breath fanning your lips, the hard plastic of his mask almost brushing against your nose. His fingertips felt scorching yet delicate when he pulled you in for a kiss.

His tongue pushed past your lips, moving languidly around yours. The kiss turned raw and bruising, growing rougher by the second. His cold mask dug into your skin but the thrill of it all made you forgive it easily. Groaning into his mouth, your hands ghosted over his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his clothes. Your legs buckled, but Ghost was quick to react and slip a leg between your thighs to hold you in place. His firm thigh pressed right against you, delivering much-needed friction to stimulate your growing desire. 

“Fuck,” he breathed out, half-lidded eyes smoldering with desire when he broke the kiss. He pulled the Balaclava back and straightened up, chuckling at the sight of a wet spot left on his pants. "You really love this, don't you?"

You nodded hazily. You were given no chance to catch your breath as he dragged you to a small, square table nearby. His grip was rough but gentle enough not to hurt you. You shrieked again when Ghost pressed your chest flat against the surface. Konig stepped close, his hand stroking the heavy and full shape of the growing bulge beneath his clothes. Ghost clasped his hand tightly around your wrists, pinning them against your back, holding you down. 

“P-please be gentle,” you pleaded, having seen both outlines of their dicks —not small in size—  strain against their boxers, ready to be strangled by your tight pussy.

"Don't be a chicken. You agreed to this.” Konig rasped. “So, we get to destroy you, corrupt your little pussy—" 

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and your heartbeat started to pick up as you struggled against Ghost's iron grip.

"Aw, don't scare our little bunny, Shigaraki" Ghost tutted, stroking your back with his free hand. "We aren't gonna hurt you, doll."

Something in his voice made you feel like you could trust him — you felt that he meant it — and your body relaxed, your breath evening out.

"Party pooper–" Konig grumbled behind his hood, as he rounded the table to stop right in front of your face. 

"W-what are you gonna do to me–" You swallowed thickly, thrill shooting through your body in a rush of  adrenaline. 

“You want us to be gentle,” his voice suddenly deepened, “Or should we treat you like the little tramp you are?” 

“I am no tramp—” you replied breathily.

“Hm— Am I wrong to think that this turns you on?” Ghost chuckled. “The idea of getting fucked by two strangers just like this?” 

Ghost's hand trailed up your thigh, hiking up your skirt and petticoat to reveal the curves of your perfect ass cheeks. A growl erupted in the back of his throat at the sight, his hand stroking the soft skin he found there. The coil inside your stomach tightened as you felt his crotch grind against you from behind. You realized he was giving you a small taste of just how much of a treat you would be getting. Trying to push yourself back against his thick meat, though, earned you a harsh slap against your ass with his tactical leather gloves.

“Ow!” you cried out, the stinging pain driving tears to your eyes.

"Fucking lay still." Ghost growled and you instantly froze at the sheer authority in his tone, a hot pulse shooting straight between your legs.

He leaned over, whispering against the shell of your ear. "So, little Red, what's it gonna be for you?”

Your lips parted in a strangled whimper. You didn’t want them to be gentle. You didn’t want them to be respectful. This was thrilling, you've always dreamed about being roughly taken, about being manhandled. 

“Fuck me, please.” You pleaded.

“It's Sir to you!” Ghost slapped you again, the pain searing this time.

"Yes—Sir—treat me like your cumdump!” You choked out, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes.

"Atta girl." He purred and you could almost hear the amused smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Ghost pulled your soaked panties down until they dangled between your ankles and dropped to the floor with a wiggle of your heels.

"Why do you always get to use the pussy, Dabi?" Konig whined, annoyed even as he unzipped his combat pants.

"Cause you only know how to fuck, boss." Ghost chuckled behind you. "Not how to please."

You swallowed thickly, feeling your heart beating so fast.

His hand gently stroked your ass again as he hummed. "This is supposed to be a treat after all."

A sense of comfort washed through you but you knew better than to rely on it. And oh boy, were you right.

“Spread your legs,” he commanded, moving to stand in between them as you eagerly complied.

Konig freed his hard cock from his pants. It was so thick and heavy that it was hanging low even though it was fully erect. 

"Open up. I’m gonna fuck your face," giving it a few lazy pumps, he closed in on your face. His shameful words sent electricity to your nerves, and your mouth started to water as you opened it in eager anticipation.

Konig slipped the fingers of his free hand into your strands, holding your head still as he slotted himself at your lips before pushing his length between them. His spongy tip quickly slipped in and he let it rest on your tongue for a brief moment before pressing deeper.

Groaning against Konig's cock, you barely made out the sound of a zipper being undone behind you. Ghost lined up his cock with your soaked cunt, gathering your slick on his spongy tip, and only then was it that you knew that this really was going to happen. He snapped his hips forward without warning, quickly hitting resistance. 

The force pushed you down on Konig’s length further until its tip hit the back of your throat. He was breathing hard, bucking his hips forward, loving the way you loosened your jaw and let him fuck your mouth.

The man behind you slowly started thrusting into you, the metal barbells of his Jacob’s Ladder continuously stroking your insides, his Prince Albert piercing kissing your cervix and making you tighten and flutter around him. Each time he pulled out, his cock was covered in more of your glistening juices.

“Ah—fuck—look at that dripping cunt—” Ghost growled, rocking his hips against your behind, watching how your greedy, sloppy pussy kept taking him, even if he could only fit halfway.

They filled you up so perfectly—Ghost’s thick, pierced cock stretched your whole pussy without getting close to being balls deep, Konig’s heavy one sitting deep in your mouth, his fat testicles slapping against your drool-covered chin with each thrust forward. A gargled moan bubbled up your throat, feeling so stuffed from both ends, with Ghost's piercings rubbing perfectly against the spot that made stars erupt before your eyes.  

Goosebumps erupted all over your body as your mind began to swim.

"Aw, are you enjoying yourself?” Ghost leaned forward. "We'll make you feel even better soon...”

Then he started pounding into you, again and again until your brain was shut down. You choked between gasps as every thrust he made knocked the air from your lungs and forced Konig’s cock to slide deeper than before– until it was buried deep down your throat. You struggled to take it, breathing heavily through your nose, pleading watery eyes shooting up to his face to silently beg for a second of reprieve. 

"You look so beautiful, stuffed with my cock like this–” Ghost said in a voice that was just a low rasp. 

You were dizzy, breathless as he kept filling up your pussy with short, harsh strokes. He watched you writhe in pleasure on the table, your sloppy mouth stuffed with Konig’s dick. Ghost bent his head down and you could feel his breath on your neck as he inhaled your scent. 

"You're taking both of us so well, little cockslut." Konig's words made you whimper even louder, glistening eyes meeting his as you struggled to breathe.

With Ghost’s hand still pinning your wrists behind your back, there was no escaping the assault. He slammed his hips harder against your pussy until you mewled out in pleasure, his piercings rubbing your g-spot just right.

The feeling of both men relentlessly working themselves in and out of you was overwhelming. Heavy grunts and growls accompanied the wet sounds of your sloppy holes getting fucked as they worked themselves into a frenzy. Ghost's cock drove deep, but you knew with a little effort, you could accommodate more of him. You parted your legs further to give Ghost even more access to your cunt. His dick began to throb and twitch, his hips bucking back and forth to find the perfect angle to thrust into you. 

And he did find it. Your body shook with pleasure, making you squeal deliciously around Konig's length. Ghost let out a breathless chuckle and spread your ass cheeks, wetting his thumb before sticking it into your puckered hole.

His friend watched the scene before him, half-lidded crimson eyes glazed with lust and desire. The sight before him turned him on so much that his hips stuttered and he came without warning. He let out a strangled groan, his hand grabbing your hair tightly as he forced you to take his entire length, his tip slipping past the back of your throat. You moaned, feeling him twitch on your tongue, spilling his hot seed deep inside of you. His free hand rose to massage your throat, savoring the way you gulped and swallowed around his twitching meat.

“That's it, baby, take every drop of his cum," Ghost praises you. "Fuck– you're such a good girl.” He looked down to where you two were connected, his thumb buried deep in your ass, a sticky wet mess covering the base of his cock.

You tried to breathe but Konig didn’t budge, staying buried deep inside of you as Ghost picked up the pace now. He gave you strong thrusts that grazed the right spot, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. You moaned, your vision turning blurry. The lack of oxygen, the continuous onslaught from behind— it was too much. it pushed you over the edge and you came, clamping around his dick while your sounds of pleasure remained muffled by Konig's cock still buried deep inside your throat. 

Ghost kept pounding into you while you rode out the high of your orgasm and finally, Konig pulled his softening cock from your mouth, letting you sputter and gasp for the air he'd denied you. He let himself fall back against the table behind him, his flaccid, drool-covered cock still massive in size and twitching slightly. Reaching out, he pushed your hair behind your ear before wiping off the saliva dribbling down your chin as you frantically gasped for air.

Ghost behind you kept up the pace, rutting his thumb in and out of your little pink hole in a contrasting beat to his thrusts. It became too much— you completely lost it, overstimulated and moaning unabashedly like a porn star now. Your cunt spasmed around his cock for a second time and you threw your head back in ecstasy, crying out through your climax.

“There you go, you're so fucking hot coming for us, doll." Ghost praised, continuing to rock his hips against yours. His deep thrusts grew messier and messier, being himself close to his release. 

Konig watched, eyes glowing with re-awakening desire as he tucked himself away.

"I'm gonna fucking cum inside of you." Ghost let out with a low growl in his throat, sending goosebumps along your body. “Gonna fill you up, gonna breed you so good—”

He gained speed and with a final snap of his hips, he groaned out loud when he came, his hips stuttering as he shot ropes of hot cum against your womb. You could feel his cock throb with each shot, before he plummeted forward, breathing heavily. His chest pressed against your spine, and you felt his semen seep out, dripping onto the floor below. Silence took over the room while all of you tried catching your breath, hair sticking to sweaty foreheads, cocks sticky with release. 

Ghost started chuckling, pulling out of you with an obscene pop. His eyes were still glazed with desire as he watched how your pussy struggled to contain the load of his release. "You look so damn pretty filled up with my cum." he said with a hidden smirk as he kept pushing it back into you with his fingers. 

He stepped back to tuck himself away, and you stood back up on wobbly feet, brain foggy from the orgasms. Carding your fingers through your messed up hair, you reached for your panties but Ghost was quick to grab and stuff them into his pant pocket.

"Nu-uh," he tutted, his brilliant azure eyes twinkling with mischief. You sighed in defeat, trying your best to smooth down your skirt.

He pulled his balaclava down, slid his hand into his pocket to retrieve a pack of cigarettes, and lit himself one. Taking a deep drag, he exhaled slowly. “So, what were you doing here anyway?”

“I was on my way to a Halloween party with my friends.” You coyly replied, carding your fingers through your hair. 

“Ya still wanna go?” He cocked his head, smoldering azures taking you in.

“What do you mean?" You looked up at him through thick lashes, still damp with the heavy tears that had sprung from your eyes in the struggle to keep down Konig’s cock.

“What Dabi wants to know is if you wouldn't rather continue our little party.” Konig snickered.

“Oh.” Was your simple reply. 

“C’mon doll, let's get ya cleaned up," Ghost pressed a kiss against your forehead. "In the meantime, Shigaraki is gonna get us some  drinks.” 

He swung an arm around your shoulder, leading you toward the door next to the dimly lit bar on the far side of the room. “We still have more treats for you…”

Happy Halloween and thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! If you comment or reblog, you'll make my day!

[alana-reid-2005]

spencer reid x reader ౨ৎ you’ve been reassigned indefinitely to the bau’s nyc office; spencer helps you pack for the move

p.s. did i write this to cope with the fact that i’m moving 30 minutes away from home for college? you know me too well.

Five hours isn’t that long of a drive. If you could somehow convince Erin Strauss to let you borrow the BAU’s plane, the journey would be cut to a mere hour and a half. You don’t know if this move will be permanent, but you try to forget about that for now and focus on packing. You stuff your winter coat into your already full suitcase. You’re about ready to sit on top of your suitcase to attempt to close it. October’s just around the corner, and New York gets chilly with a capital “C,” even more so than Quantico.

It’ll be your first Halloween away from Spencer in seven years, you think morosely. Spencer knows how to celebrate the spooky season. Halloween is his Christmas as evidenced by the multiple excursions to the local pumpkin patch and trips to various haunted houses he takes you on each year. And that’s not to mention how he invites you over on the thirty-first to witness him spooking the kids in his apartment building with his various monster or ghoul costumes before treating them to king size candy bars.

You’re gonna miss that more than you’d like to admit.

You’re pulled from your thoughts as Spencer stumbles in, carrying a box full of knick knacks he’s making you choose from after reasoning with you that, “Seasonal depression is very real, and making your house a home is one small way to remedy the feelings of loneliness.”

He bumps his hip hard into your closet doorknob on his way over to you but barely seems to register it.

“Careful hon-“

“Hey, did you know that the subway system is actually way better than people make it out to be?” He sets down the box with a little huff before continuing, his hands immediately going up to make gestures as he speaks. “According to a New York Times analysis I saw this morning, there’s only about one violent crime per one million rides. And that rate is only going down as ridership increases, so I think it’s your safest bet for getting around the city, all things considered.”

You smile up at him. Here’s another thing you’re gonna miss. You’d drop all your life’s responsibilities if it meant you could hear him explain the world to you all day long.

He kneels beside you where you’re bent over your suitcase. “Anyway, I brought you some holiday decor! Pick as many as you can fit in your luggage. I’ll mail you the rest.”

He’s not quite smiling, but you can sense the joy radiating from him like steam from a thermal geyser.

“It’s barely September, Spence.” You try not to let your voice break. You just can’t muster his level of enthusiasm when you know you’ll be leaving him soon. Too soon.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” He must’ve noticed you were off earlier today. Mercifully, he hadn’t mentioned it sooner, or you would’ve been bawling like a baby at eight in the morning. More than often, you feel this is the curse of your chosen profession: to always know how you and those around you feel but never how to help them or yourself.

“Please don’t cry, angel.” His arms are around you in an instant, easing your chin to his shoulder. He slides his hands down to rub your back, applying just the right amount of pressure to coax your body to melt into his.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise.” He tilts back, arms tightening around your mid back until you’re almost in his lap. Physical touch is by far not on the top of his list of love languages, but he needs you to know how much he’s gonna miss you.

“I’m sorry,” you sob.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he murmurs, stroking your hair gently. “I’m driving up to see you every weekend. And you’re flying in for Thanksgiving. I think Garcia said she’d host this year.”

“Aw, Penelope always does the best job,” you sniffle, unable to help the grin that breaks over your face.

Spencer pulls back, beaming just as bright. Once your expression softens, he pulls you in for a kiss, painfully saccharine in its tenderness.

You’re gonna miss his coffee breath most of all.

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ Earth 42! Miles Morales x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷  Forbidden love, mutual pining, eventual angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷  Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ Chapters are a bit rushed, sorry bout that 😭 hope u enjoy tho

Chapter 1: Behind the chain

Warning ೃ⁀➷ Profane language, underaged smoking, mention of death, horrible Spanish. Also, I don’t live in America so idrk how people talk there, so please bear with me.

FIC MASTERLIST

Next Chapter

“Hello? Yeah, I’m at practice.”

As your feet hit the ground, the chain link fence shutters from the release of your weight— a sigh escaping your lips as you pull your phone up closer to your ear. The sound of your aunt's nags echo from your phone, bellowing across the abandoned subway and overpowering even the sound of your boots hitting the damp ground. It was shrill, her voice. Like a fork being dragged down a piece of fine china. Activating the flashlight of your phone, you swiftly slip your head out of your hood, the new spot now staring back at you like an empty canvas— devoid of life and color. It’s tragic.

As you trudge down the narrow space, your senses begin to process the stench of the horror movie-like scenery. You could heard the pipes’ leaking going along with your aunt’s ongoing lecture about something you couldn’t recall— somehow distracting you from your search.

But what certainly made you uneasy was the chill.

You hated the cold. You hated the way it’d ice your feet, dry your skin, restrict your clothes, and clog your nose. Though ironically, autumn was the season you found most enjoyable. Most of the nostalgia you bore came from the sight of those scarlet leaves— the smell of pumpkin spice, your mother’s old scarves, and the earthly rich tones of orange and red. It’d been so long, though, since your last happy memory in the season.

Nowadays, the nights are just longer, and the days shorter.

Soon enough, you stop before a tall, white wall, making you gasp as though you’d just won the lottery. Only then you started bidding your farewells to your aunt, who was beyond exasperated with your hurried adieu. Shoving the gadget down your pocket, your backpack falls right off your shoulder with a small thump, eyes still glued onto the blank space.

You make your way towards one of the seats, settling down your stuff while slipping your vape out the crevices of your sleeve and taking a slow puff— the taste of peppermint flourishing through your lips and covering up the stench of whatever was rotting in the railways.

"You're early." A familiar, sarcastic growl emits from the shadows. You turn around as the light from your phone blinds him, making him wince.

“I missed you.” You playfully answered.

The familiar gleam of hazel blinks and stares right back at you, the same stoic stare narrowing from your comment.

“Sure you did.” He huffs.

In the back of your mind, the same phrase bellows.

Well, well, well. If it ain’t Miles Morales.

It was one night, two months ago, when the two of you first met. You were an utter mess, and so was he— and it just so happened that beneath all that rain, the two of you found each other at the right time, at the right place. Supposedly.

The two of you bonded in loneliness and art. It was almost poetic, especially knowing that the two of you were anything but good for each other.

But you believed that that’s what’s great about life— the reckless things, and betting whatever you have on the line, for a taste of something thrilling. Miles knew how to pull on your strings, and the idea of being understood was still new to you. Still, whenever you do find yourself in the comfort of Miles Morales, you can’t help but ask yourself:

Who will we be to each other?

How will we change each other’s lives after this?

You couldn’t quite tell if it was your gut warning you, or your anxiety just being a little shit, but you knew the time to hear the answers was drawing near. You had no idea whether the possibility mortified you or not.

One thing for certain though, was that you knew you wanted him, and you were willing to take the risk to see him over and over again.

Miles took a step closer, his height towering over you like a tree. With a single finger, he maneuvers your flashlight away from his face with a light push.

"Get that shit away from my face."

“Awe, but I wanna see that pretty face of yours.”

“Stop.”

Cat and mouse was your usual dynamic. Though you couldn’t quite pinpoint who the cat was.

He clicks his tongue, moving away from you to head over somewhere else. A few seconds later, the power suddenly lights up and brings the subway back to life. Miles stood by the power switch, staring right at you as if to examine your reaction.

You straightened your lips and raised your brows.

"Well, you should've done that sooner."

He lazily shrugged his shoulders, approaching you once more yet with more meticulous steps. "Wanted to scare ya." He cooly confessed, earning nothing but another chuckle.

"If you wanted to scare me, don’t look so pretty."

Said pretty boy furrowed his brows, making you grin wider.

"Ay, díos. You're..." For a short moment, he thinks of how to complete the sentence.

You hum. "I'm what?"

".. so fucking unbearable."

"Awe, I missed you too." You smiled in a sickly sweet way while placing a hand over your heart. That certain sort of thrill began thumping inside you again, an unfamiliar excitement that got you staring right at him mindlessly with that stupid look on your pretty face. As Miles replied with silence, you shrugged and pulled the mod up your tinted lips— blowing the smoke away from his face. Only then, you gestured it towards him.

"Want a hit?"

"Nah." He dryly replies. "That's your first step to a rehab, y'know."

A low laugh exits your lips, taking another hit while slowly walking around. "With how fucked up I am, I'm bound to end up in either jail, a rehab, or a mental institution— so," You snap your fingers. "I'm just gonna enter all three of them."

Miles looks at you, horrified.

"M’just kidding. Don't you think I look hot while doing it, though?"

He peels the horrified stare away from you, instead choosing to kneel before your backpack, unzipping the damn thing as though it were his.

"What'chu got?" He asks, a certain twang in his voice that lightened you up. You head over in less than a second, grinning stupidly like a little kid in search of favor. You pull the plastic bag out of your backpack, waving it over his face.

"Only the best for you." You wink. "I just kindly borrowed these from my school's art club."

Receiving the bag from your grasps, Miles pulls out the newly bought spray paints. He furrows his brows at the sight of the bold fifteens printed on the bottom of each bottle, a tag left as if to brag. "Kindly borrowed, huh?" He skims over the bottle, evidently impressed. "Fifteen dollars per bottle? That’s a whole heist right there.”

“I literally just snatched it off the cabinet.”

“You must go to some rich kid’s school or sum. You even look the part.”

He gestures over your well-kept appearance. Your clean boots, pressed jeans, freshly done nails, and fragrant hoodie.

And yet you continued to look at him like he was the crazy one.

"... Miles, it’s called neatness. A basic trait." You stand up, stretching your arms above your head, the ache in your bones subtly easing. "If I did have the money, my art would be in an exhibition, not in an abandoned subway."

He pursed his lips, somewhat convinced. "Touché."

As he unpacks the paints, you stay beside him, watching as he goes through the colors and lines them up in order. You shove your hands down the pockets of your hoodie, humming.

"So what'll you be drawing tonight?"

"I ain’t really sure yet… The Subway logo, maybe." He shrugs, an exhausted groan rolling off his tongue as he stands up. "… I ain't got shit. I'm drained."

"Then why'd you come here?"

"Felt bad for ya."

You smirk. "So you did miss me."

He takes a step back, turning his head the other way. "I sure do find your delusional ass amusing." He mumbled, trying to hide the anxiety gnawing at his throat. You hardly notice it, as you were too busy staring at the empty wall, but Miles was uneasy. Uneasy in a way that he was desperate to hide it.

"At least I’ve got an ass." You airily snap back, silence following like an awkward stench. "Did you bring your sketchbook with you, by the way?"

He then proceeds to go through his jacket, eyes widening from the realization. "Ah, shit. I did... Not."

"Awe." You blandly answered, pulling out your own from the pocket of your bag. It was small, convenient, almost like a notepad. "Well, I've got mine here." You toss it over, which he successfully catches. "They're not exactly as good as yours, but you can skim through the pages to find some inspiration."

The pages spin from the flip of his fingers. Tens of concept art, a few unfinished sketches, and some dabbling in watercolor appeared before him in a flash. As he goes through the pages, you take the moment to have a momentary smoke, straying not so far away just so he wouldn't inhale any of it. The nicotine eased you as it normally did, though now that you were looking at this pretty boy before you, you couldn't help but ponder about quitting. Just for him. Just for the sake of him.

Though the feeling the nicotine often brought you was addicting, his presence hit you harder than any other drug, affecting your system in a way that made your stomach whirl. He was like your favorite cup of coffee— the strongest coffee to ever linger in your presence. Strong enough to appear on a drug test.

It was damning.

Dangerous even.

As the page flips again, Miles freezes at the sight. You take the gadget away from your lips, approaching him immediately as he huffs.

"... Huh."

Bursting in neons of magenta and violet was the sketch you made of a certain vigilante.

"Oh, don’t mind that." You mumble. "That's just some random sketch."

He brings the paper closer to his sights, marveling at your talent. The markers and the ink, mirroring the image of a cat on the run. His pretty lips part, mouth hanging agape as he asks. "You know this guy?"

A hero of the streets, some sort of final pillar carrying the weight of New York's safety on his broad shoulders.

"Well, I've seen him— Prowler, from the news. I thought he looked pretty cool."

Prowler, a name all too familiar to you. How could you not know he was? A man hiding behind an iron mask, a digital purple hologram over the metals, making his silhouette mirror a panther’s. The man was all your father recently growled about, the memory of the heavy morning still engraved into your mind. You can almost sketch it out— The stench of his tobacco, the shrill of his angered voice, and the image of your poor housekeeper silently brushing some broken shards into the dustpan. You remember sitting by the dining table, solemnly choking on your breakfast as you forcibly shoved it down your throat.

Eyes downcast and hands shaking.

"You think he's cool?" Miles' voice tears you apart from the memory. He sounded almost elated, like a child in search of praise.

"Yeah, I'd always wanted to be a vigilante, fuck—" The vape rolls off your tongue unconsciously. "Like, my life is so damn boring, but at the same time, I've got too many responsibilities to handle so I can't do the things I like. But hey, that's life, I guess."

"If you've got too many responsibilities, then what the hell are you doing here? It's like midnight r'now, damn."

"I kinda told my aunt I had practice for band."

"You're in a band?"

"…. No." You deadpan. "That's the reason why I'm here, man."

He snapped the sketchbook shut, sighing as he plucked out the red and purple spray paints from the line. "God, you'd be one hell of a headache if I ever had a kid like you."

"Woah, slow down, sweetie, you're already talking about kids and you haven't even taken me out to dinner yet." You tease, teeth nibbling onto your lower lip as you watch him crumble. He straightens his lips, forcefully holding back a smile.

"… Shut that mouth for me, would ya?" He shot back. "Just shut up."

"Oo, make me."

He pops the lid off the red paint, the sound of a nickel ball being shaken up in a metal can soon following. Without even an ounce of hesitation, he curtly sprays the paint over your sleeve, earning a gasp from you. You quickly snatch the neon pink can and start spraying back, the chemical smell wafting over your nostrils as the sound of your giggles echoed down the halls. A minute later and the both of you began drawing your new piece while being drenched in paint.

"Hey, pretty boy.”

Miles instinctively turns to look at you, as though he prided himself in the nickname.

"I need to do the top part, can you boost me?" You ask, voice muffled from the towel pulled over your nose.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, but he agreed without making a sound.

He kneels, tapping on his thigh, gesturing you to take your step. Taking off your shoes, you cautiously climb over, feeling his hands brush against your calves, almost as if he was readying his stance to catch you just in case you fall. Initially, the pose seemed to be serving you well, but when your ankles started shivering, your hand latched onto his head, gripping gently in panic. Miles, who was, of course, caught off guard, began shaking. You finally took a step down.

"Fuck." You whispered. "Can you do it?"

"Hol' on."

"I think you just need to like, tiptoe a bit and—"

"Be patient."

And you did just that.

He stretches out his toes in an attempt to reach for the top, but he fails miserably. Miles then turned to you, bearing the pout of a frustrated child.

"... Ya already know what to do, right?"

"Mm, yeah."

An irrational thought crosses his mind, and it battles against his rationality like a civil war within the confines of his head. A second later, his lone finger signals you to come closer. You do so, and he looks up at the unfinished crown.

"I'm gonna carry you, a'ight?"

"What?" You blurt out. "Y-You don't have to—"

"Just balance yourself." He skips past your rant. "And you better do it well."

Before you could even intervene, he's down and offering you his shoulder. Hesitantly, you position yourself. Looking over at you, Miles skims over your face in search of approval. When your hand shakily makes its way over his other arm, Miles cautiously wraps his palm over the side of your knee, hoisting you up like a trophy he’d just won.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Y-yeah. Just— yeah." You stumble over your words, raising your hand over to start painting.

You could feel it tingling in your bones. Skin deep, rotting within the confines of your flesh, insecurity at its highest peak. And it shut you up. Miraculously, as Miles would say it. Your weight, your body, your own figure frightened you. It would be a lie for Miles to claim that he hasn’t noticed. But he stood tall, hardly showing an ounce of any struggle— which comforted somehow.

He was pretty strong, stronger than you first thought.

As you painted, Miles stood there in silence. Trying his best to focus on his breathing.

But the softness of your palm atop his shoulder, and the growing warmth of his own over your waist. Miles desperately tried to ignore growing warmth burning his cheeks. He resisted the urge to dig into the softness of your waist, and yet it remained like a taunt— allowing only his nails to grip over your shirt, the thin barrier over your skin. It seemed almost vulgar, how his hand was beneath your hoodie, gripping as though you were his favorite plush. How his wrist was pressed against the curve of your hip. Then and there, within the span of five minutes, the silhouette of your body was forever engraved into his senses, his mind, and his touch.

But no one spoke of it.

"... You done?" He groaned.

"In a bit, hol' on."

You thought he'd start complaining about your weight, but he didn't.

You were somewhat relieved, but at the same time, it flustered you.

And when the little scene ended, you and Miles stood there, backs pressed against the wall as you stared at your new masterpiece. You looked over the chemical stains on your sleeves, glancing at him. "This jacket's pretty expensive, y'know. It cost me like fifteen grand."

His face twisted in disgust. "You'd buy a jacket like that? In this economy?”

"It's a capitalist world we live in."

"No shit."

The two of you share a small laugh, evidently exhausted from the whole art process. It wasn't all that much, but it was based on one of your many doodles during class. The cursive that spelled out Stay Out was painted in an intimidating shade of red, its borders tainted in white and black— a crown of thorns resting above the text. It seemed like a warning, an open threat. Crafted by frustration, but upon its finish, you were eased.

"Next time, we should do something that says 'Eat the rich' or 'Vive la revolución.'" Miles suddenly suggested, jazzing his fingers comedically. You click your tongue. "We might get shot, man.”

“With all that smoking you do, you’ll wither away before the bullet even manages to get you.”

You raised your brows. “Okay, and?”

Miles scoffs at your ridiculous reply, but for a moment he thinks about it— some sort of plan in his mind. Sooner or later, he soon gently raises his palm without a word. You stare at his hand confusingly, “What?” you then asked of him. The boy then gestured over his lips with his fingers shaped like a v, imitating the act of smoking. “Lemme try, at least once.”

“… You’re kidding.”

“I’m being for real, ma, just let me try it once.”

You think about rejecting his request, but the curiosity had you fishing out your e-cigarette in less than a second.

“Okay, but if you die, I’m not paying for your damn ambulance bill.”

“Just uber me to the damn hospital.”

Miles then looks at it, glaring holes into the pen-shaped gadget as though he were waiting for it to speak. After considerably taking his time, he plucks it out your palm and starts a slow sip, the collision of the nicotine and the flavor flooding his tongue as the smoke enters his system. When the heat creeps in, however, he bursts out into a coughing fit.

You snatch the gadget away from his grasp as he groans.

“Careful.”

"What the fUCK—, ain't that s'pposed to calm you down?—" He slams his hand against the center of chest in an attempt to ease his lungs.

"… Did you fucking swallow the smoke or what?" You sigh while taking a sip, the smoke smoothly exiting your lips.

"... You know what? You are definitely gonna die early."

"Oh, darling, don't threaten me with a good time."

“Pu—” He coughs a few more times. “Puta, I almost died there.”

You take your palm and began rubbing small circles behind his back. “You shouldn’t do the shit I do, even if I look hot doing it.”

“Ain’t nobody told you that.”

“… Why’d you wanna smoke anyway?”

“I just wanted to know why you keep doing that.” He groans, staring at the pen in your fingers. “I mean— it’s unhealthy as fuck, hardly tastes good, and it’ll kill you the ugliest way possible. So why do it?”

You lower the pen as though your long-lost conscience re-entered your body.. “… I don’t know really.” You mumbled half-heartedly. “I think it’s what calms me down the most…? I don’t know.”

“… You don’t have, like, normal hobbies?”

“The fuck— of course, I do.” You swiftly shot back. “I just don’t have the time to do them.”

“Then what do you do at home?”

You blink.

“What— What do I do at home?” You repeat, thinking of it to yourself. “That’s a good question, what do I do at home?… I do chores, I study a lot. I-I take care the house.” Take care of the house? Yeah, shit I ain’t Mirabel Madrigal. As your mind short circuits, from a mile away, you could already guess his reply.

“I do that too, dumbass.”

You click your tongue. “.. It’s complicated. The time I usually have for myself is when I’m outside, that’s why I lied that I took up band for extra credit.”

You smoothed out the details of your life, picking out a few small details that were definitely not all that important.

"Is that why you're here?"

"Yeah.”

The boy curved his lips into a slight frown.

“I mean,” You shift closer, sighing as you palm the back your neck. “Sometimes, places like these are better than my own home."

"Places like an abandoned subway?"

“You make it sound like I’m homeless.”

“That’s what it sounds to me.”

"... It’s just.." You run your fingers through your hair, eyes glued onto the ceiling above. "I feel more at home in an abandoned subway more than my own house.”

Miles hummed. "… I'd always thought home would be more of a person," He tilts his head. "Rather than a place."

The silence was deafening, but this time, nothing was urging you to fix it— because there was nothing in need of fixing. You were comfortable, weirdly enough, as you never really found comfort in utter silence.

“It’d be nice to be.. Someone’s home.” You couldn’t help but utter those cheesy words. “I think I’d make a great home.”

Miles fiddled with the hem of his hoodie, holding back the words that echoed in his mind.

Yeah, you’re doing great.

Instead, what slips out of his mouth was: “How the fuck are you gon’ be a home? You’re a whole haunted house.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You roll your eyes. “If I’m a haunted house, you’re a rental where all the drive-by shootings happen.”

“Okay, what the fuck.”

“When you go low, I go LOWER.”

In the end, the two of you simply bursted into laughter, sinking down to the floor to take a seat. Another hour passed and so did a hundred topics. They flew by like the autumn leaves, leaving the both of you unconsciously huddling close for warmth beneath the large scarf you brought. Two birds of one feather, one nest. Easy conversations, light laughs, and genuine interest.

Even when the conversation grew darker, the two of you infinitely felt cosy enough to confide in one another. Especially when Miles spoke about his father.

You listened well, yet there was this ball stuck in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow. A heaviness in your heart, a stiff feeling in your throat. However, your ears were welcoming. His tone was grieving, but his words resonated with acceptance.

"He used to drive me every morning to school... We'd fight over the pettiest things, and god, I hated it, but looking back, it was better then." He buried half his head into his arms. "I'd rather have him annoying me than have him not annoying me at all."

The words hit you like a truck, leaving you defenseless. In a moment, your walls crumble as these words crawl out your mouth. "... Sometimes, when we're with someone, you can't help but wish they'd leave you alone, but when they're gone, only then you'll realize how much you can't live without them."

Though your words were meant for Miles, you knew damn well that they were also for you.

"... There's some truth to that, I guess."

"Does that mean that you'd miss me when I'm gone?" You tease.

Your gentle gazes collide, and eventually, you see that Miles had softened entirely.

"... Maybe."

“.. Maybe?” You repeat his reply. “.. Should I annoy you more then?”

“You’re annoying enough as you are.” He huffs, pulling his knees to his chest. “I hate you so much.”

“Sure you do.”

You lean against his shoulder. “Hate me all you want. I’ll pretend to believe you.”

A light chuckle emits from his lips, but as it fades, he turns his head, burying his nose in the scent of your hair. You were fragrant, and it was addicting. Slowly, he shuts his eyes and basks in your scent.

Then he called out your name softly.

You hum, looking up at him— the inches between you closing in, cold breaths like white smoke intertwining. His cold fingers dance atop your own.

“What?” You whisper.

His lids were heavy, gaze switching between the pool of your eyes and the plush of your lips.

Then and there, you knew.

But something screamed at you in the back of your mind.

We can’t.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

And you pulled away before your lips could even meet.

"Shit." You cuss, clumsily pulling the phone out of your pockets. Your hands frantically scramble to answer the call, the look of Miles' defeated stare stinging the corner of your eye. "Hello?" You began, hearing the chauffeur's voice ask back. "Ma'am, where are you?"

Your fingers press the side of your phone, lowering the volume.

“We're currently clearing up the room right now. Can you please wait about thirty more minutes? Thanks."

As the call ends, you frantically head off to start cleaning up. Trying to evade whatever had just happened— at least, you try to. It invaded your mind and heart, left you breathless and unsteady.

You and Miles began picking up the bottles, shoving it inside the plastic. You then flung the strap of your backpack onto your shoulder, holding the plastic out to him. "You can have it."

Confusion was scribbled all over his face.

"Didn't you steal that from your school's art club?”

You look up, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. "It’s their problem, not ours." You grin.

Miles shakes his head in feigned disapproval. "Tsk tsk tsk, eres una chica tan mala."

"Don't start, the only Spanish I know's from Dora."

"Que?"

"Queso."

You shove the plastic into his arms. "No hablo Español, lo siento." Was all you managed to form out of the past few weeks you started learning Spanish. You threw a hand in the air, waving him a fast farewell while pivoting your heel to leave.

“Can’t I walk you home?” A suggestion, and not a demand for the first time, Miles insists “It’s dark as fuck outside, and you might get.. Y’know.”

For a moment, you pause to laugh.

“Are you worried about me?”

He nods. “I am.”

“I— wait, what?”

He took a step further. “I am worried about you. It’s ten o’clock. I think I should take you home.”

Miles looked at you in a way you’ve never seen before. It was unfamiliar, or maybe you just weren’t good at paying attention, yet now that it was materializing before you— It overwhelmed you.

It was breaking you open.

You bite your lower lip, shoving your hands in your pockets.

“… I-I don’t know, I don’t think my dad would like that very much.”

“And I’m sure your dad wouldn’t like the idea of his lil’ girl getting hurt.”

There he goes again, towering over you, his cocky eyes never once leaving your face. Lil’ girl my ass, you can’t help but think. I’m tall, asshole. You just so happened to be taller.

“I’ll walk you home.” He reiterates. Now it’s an announcement, not a proposal. “You can tell me to leave when we’re near. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

“… Miles,” The way his name rolls off your tongue had him weak, and you couldn’t even tell. “.. Okay, fine— But, only up until the Gristedes down the block. Until then, you go home, alright?”

Your voice was too soft, too mellow. It made his breath hitch, made his neck tense in this already cold weather.

“Aight.”

[ya-bug-boy]

Could I request a post-Hisui Ingo with a s/o who is a YouTuber?

I can just imagine this scenario where Ingo pops in sometimes to give his s/o food while they're recording and at some points, his appearances make it to the final video but here's the thing, no one knows where he went for the last 2-3 years so imagine all of the comments when they see him again.

Like-

'Ayo??? is that subway boss Ingo???'

'Your partner looks suspiciously like Ingo from the Battle subway in Unova"

"Guys I think we just found out where Ingo has been for the past 2-3 years!"

'why does your old man partner remind me of Ingo lmao'

and it goes on and on, it gets to the point where it reaches Emmet, and he goes looking for the channel himself, wanting to know if these claims are true. They are. That's his long lost brother.

aside Bonus: the reader is a bit dense and when he first met Ingo, he just assumed he was a look alike

YOUTUBER READER... Ask and you will receive, thank you for asking! And sorry about the wait.

Post-Hisui Warden Ingo x Youtuber Male Reader

You grew a large following with your Youtube career, not entirely expecting it to happen.

What started off as an avid interest in just history became a whole spiderweb of other accounts dedicated to a certain topic of choice.

Ofc you had your video game channel, a cooking/baking channel, sewing, and your gardening channel. You have a dedicated team of support staff that helps you make your videos and you're effectively deemed to be the visual living representation of "cottage core," having a busy but interesting life to the point where people just got curious and excited to see you.

You came across Ingo in your garden, in a messy state of mind, having fallen through the roof of your greenhouse. You immediately help him into your home and call the local doctor to discover that Ingo has been severely injured from the fall and broke his leg.

When Ingo shakily admits he doesn't know where he's from or how he got there, just extensive knowledge of Hisui and your eyes light up. You've finally gotten someone to talk about your special interest! But Ingo is frightened by the ordeal he's gone through and especially doesn't know where he's supposed to stay...until you give him a smile, pat his shoulder and offer him a room in your house for him to recover in.

Ingo refuses at first, it seems terrible to destroy one's property and take a place in their home! But after your constant insistence, he eventually wears down. You make a delicious pumpkin soup with vegetables grown from your own garden and Ingo's heart begin to race.

Though you have your busy career, you always ensure Ingo's safety and well being first. Making sure he's cleaned, fed, and taken care of. Ingo had been so lonely during his time in Hisui and he knew nothing of your online celebrity status...you two grew a love for each other during his recovery and after he was well, he asked you politely if he could stay.

your fans begin to notice that you've been happier, you've been mentioning here and there of a new boyfriend that you're dating. But you don't give out too many details....you think your chat would call you crazy for falling in love with a homeless man. lol

but one day you decide to entertain the idea of making Hisui food with him, you do a livestream of you two making potato mochi and the chat goes nuts of comments of him being the former Subway Boss.

this eventually gets reached out to Emmet, who's been searching for his brother for the past three years.

after getting some connections, you manage to get into contact with Emmet and agree to visit him, the two of you together. You don't tell your chat because you don't want fans to interrupt their reunion.

You hesitate, wondering if Ingo would leave but he promises to always stay loyal to you. You're his boyfriend and he doesn't want anyone else.

[improbable-outset]

𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐲

Leonardo x gn!Reader

TMNT Masterlist | AO3 | 🅿️laylist

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Angst and mentions of loneliness. Platonic relationship.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It’s a few months into the new academic school year and so far, things are not going too well for you. Luckily, a certain blue masked turtle is there to comfort you.

Going down the stairs to step into the subway station always felt like going into another dimension to you. The air was always so musty compared to outside despite living downtown New York City, where the smell of car gas and garbage alway lingered. Today was no different. With your backpack slung over one of your shoulders, slightly weighing you down with the heavy textbooks inside, you made your way to the first platform in the station - the same station that you’ve used for the past two years. You’ve memorised every nook and crannies here; every tunnel and every platform number. You knew the best times to board the trains in the morning and in the evening to avoid heavy peak hours and so you could get the best seat.

Waiting behind the platform edge, you noticed your train approaching before coming to a stop with a screech. After allowing the passengers to leave the carriage, you made your way to the middle of the seat, away from the doors. The rackety sounds of the tracks melted into a blissful hum as you zone out with your headphones in. There wasn’t much of a view outside since you were underground so all you could see out the window was darkness. Your eyes wandered elsewhere around the train, trying to not hold eye contact with any of the other passengers. New Yorkers can be pretty hostile at times and the last thing you wanted was to come off as creepy after a long day of school. You noticed a group of girls from your maths class sitting in the corner of the train. You couldn’t catch what they were saying but the way they threw their heads back and laughed hysterically, you could tell they were probably the loudest in the carriage; they always were in class anyway.

The slight rocking motion of the train was enough to lul you to sleep on your seat. But your tiredness was only fleeting when you were struck with a strong, sweet scent of pumpkin spice steaming from one of the passenger’s coffee cup next to you. Yep. Autumn was here, so that meant pumpkin spice was going to be heavily consumed by people around, along with the traditional orange and brown themes plastered in every corner. You never understood the hype of it. And you were glad that your stop was next so you didn’t have to be stuck with the aroma any longer.

You were welcomed back to the cold air outside. There was a sudden gust of wind which made you involuntarily grip tighter into your jacket. The sea of leaves crunched beneath your feet as you walked to your apartment, keys in hand. Daylight was going to burn out faster now and before you knew it, it would be sundown by the time you went home. The season always left a bittersweet taste in your mouth. You didn’t hate it - you loved coming home to a warm house after shutting the cold outside. The recovery from the cold weather is significantly better than the extreme sticky heat during the summer. Sweating was never a pleasant experience.

Perhaps it was the new academic year that would start around this time that made you feel uneasy. That was probably what ruined the whole season for you. You never had anything to look forward to once school started - you didn’t have an active social life so you didn’t have any friends you were excited to see. A few small talks with your classmates here and there but that was probably it. You would just watch in the corner as your classmates got extremely happy seeing their friends again after the summer break. Sure, you had April O’Neil and Casey Jones, they were your only human friends that were your age so you could relate to them a lot. Unfortunately for you, they both attended a different school which was quite a distance from your area, so you barely got to see them.

It was quarter to five by the time you finally reached outside your building. It wasn’t going to get dark until a few hours later for now. You opened the front entrance and made your way upstairs, footsteps echoed with each step in the emptiness of the silent halls along with one of the neighbour’s dogs barking aggressively from inside their apartment. You never liked taking the cramped elevator, despite how heavy your legs were feeling and how quickly you wanted to step inside your heated home, you rather not be stuck in a metal box that smelt of piss for a few seconds. You made your way to your own apartment and immediately could tell that there was no one home when you couldn’t feel the central heating in the house. That, and your parents’ shoes that were always by the front door weren't there now which also gave away that you were home alone.

First thing you did was switch on the heating and waited for your apartment to warm up before going to your room and dumping your bag to the side with a thud. You took a seat behind your study desk. There were sticky notes littered on the walls, notes from last year's finals. You didn’t bother to take them down - It wasn’t like anyone was going to see them anyways. It wasn’t a favourable experience being the only presence in the house and it happened way too often for your liking. You didn’t have any issues with your parents, they were just busy and knew you could handle yourself at home. It really didn’t help with how things were in school. You just craved to have that close connection with someone, to feel listened to and not overlooked.

~

A few hours have passed and by now, it was pitch black outside but your curtains were not drawn yet. It’s not like you had anyone that could look through your window from the outside since you were higher up and no building was opposite. You paid no mind to it until you heard a soft knock on your window, slightly startling you from the deafening silence. A tall 6 feet muscular figure could be seen outside your window, hanging off the fire exit ladder. From your room lighting, you caught a glimpse of the familiar blue bandanna around his eyes.

“Leo?” You opened your window and gestured to him inside. “Don’t worry it’s safe,”

As he stepped into your room through the open window, you noticed he was carrying something bulky on his side. Once he was inside, you quickly closed the window again, shutting out the blistering cold. There was the smell of chlorine coming from him that you’ve grown used to time ago.

“What are you doing here? Is something up?” You didn’t question the thing he was carrying since you knew he was going to tell you anyway. Leo wasn’t the type to leave things unsaid.

“No, nothing serious. I just came to check on you. You didn’t reply to any of my messages and I was worried,” There was a sudden guilt that stirred your stomach. You never really messaged people and vice versa so your phone was pretty dry. Thus, everyday after school, you would switch your phone off and try to preoccupy yourself before making yourself dinner and getting ready for bed.

“I’m so sorry Leo, my phone was switched off,” you said, sincerity in your voice.

“Hey, it’s alright, as long as you’re safe,” he pulled out a flask that was inside his side pouch. It sloshed around with every movement so you could tell it was heavy and filled to the top. “I brought you some tea, maybe we could catch up on things?” He handed you the metal flask as he spoke, as expected it was a little heavy.

“Thank you. You’re too sweet. Let’s go to the kitchen, I’m home alone tonight so no one will see you,” You led him to the kitchen and took out two ceramic tea cups from the dishes cupboard. You poured the hot beverage in each cup and took a seat on the dining table. The tea sent a welcoming heat penetrating through your body and a trip through memory lane. It’s been a while since you’ve had some of Leo’s tea. Definitely better than a pumpkin spice.

“So, it’s been a minute since you’ve been in the lair. I guess you’re really busy, huh?” Leo asked, his eyes still glued to you over the rim of the cup as he took his first sip.

“I have, yes. School’s started now and I’m still getting used to the routine,” you haven’t gone to the lair in months. The last time you went was the first few weeks into the summer break.

“Have you spoken with April or Casey?”

“Not since summer”

“Oh well, they have been asking about you,”

“Wait, really?” You weren’t used to people really acknowledging you let alone even asking about you so of course hearing this was a surprise.

“We all have. Even Master Splinter. We miss you coming over, you know… I miss you,” the last part came off as a shy mutter and you noticed his gaze dropped.

“I miss all of you guys too,” you were speechless at this point. You didn’t think anyone would make you feel wanted like this, it was a little overwhelming. Leo reached out for your hand. His touch was cold but you still welcomed them.

“You know you’re always welcome in the lair, whenever you are available of course. I really want you to see you more often.” There was a fresh feel of warm integrity that seeped through you as he said that. From the way he looked at you, you knew it was genuine. This family was full of heroes who were responsible for the safety of the city while staying under the shadows and you had the luxury to be a part of it. They were family to you and they would do anything to keep you safe. There was no reason to feel alone now.

“Thank you Leo. It means a lot.” You sent him a warm smile and he sent one back. Everything was going to be okay, you had people that you could rely on. “So, how are your brothers then?”

[turtle-steverogers]

Mikey!! More hc’s because I have them and feel like screaming about them.

1. Steve loves celebrating Samhain because any Irish tradition makes him feel close to his ma. He especially loves carving pumpkins and turnips because it lets him be creative in a safe way. It doesn’t matter if he messes up a little bit because it’s a pumpkin and a turnip. But he can’t clean pumpkins out. Something about the feel of the guts panics him. He’s even tried with gloves and all kinds of scoops, but he can’t do it. He hates the feel. Bucky loves it

2. Steve doesn’t understand the idea of other people coming into your house to clean. He doesn’t hate the profession itself because lord knows people need to support themselves somehow, but he doesn’t understand why you would want someone else to come into your home to clean it. He doesn’t like the idea of having strangers in his safe space and touching all of his things.

3. Steve still smokes sometimes. It’s usually after a panic attack, when the seizing of his lungs makes it feel like an asthma attack. And while he knows smokes do nothing to help, the act of it is comforting. Sometimes, Bucky will smoke with him out on the fire escape. They sit shoulder to shoulder the way they used to, and somehow, someway, Steve knows everything is going to be okay

4. Steve can’t sleep if he knows the apartment isn’t the way it’s going to be. If Bucky’s out and he’s going to be back late, Steve can’t fall asleep. Even if he’s exhausted, there’s something in the back of his mind that tells him something is wrong and that something is going to change. If he knows Bucky isn’t going to be back until morning, he sleeps fine (well, as fine as he can without Bucky there to hold him)

AHHHH KEEP 'EM COMING!!!! I LOVE ALL OF THESE!!

This one feeds especially into my ongoing Steve Has Sensory Issues headcanon. I can see this being the case in a lot of situations-- Steve not being able to handle a certain sound or texture, so Bucky seamlessly takes over for him. It's always been that way, since they were little and Bucky used to lend Steve his earmuffs on the subway because it was too loud and Steve would plug his ears and squeeze his eyes shut. Even still, Bucky carries a pair of earplugs on him in case Steve starts to get overloaded.

I totally believe this. Mostly because I can also see Steve being the type that needs to have things organized a certain way that makes sense to him in order to exist in a space. He took his time carefully crafting this safe environment and the idea of things being slightly to the left in a way he didn't see happen makes his gut churn.

And it's the same brand, too: Lucky Strikes. The taste and feel is familiar, and sometimes Bucky and him will even share the same cigarette, passing it back and forth in silence while Steve's breathing still evens out. Bucky doesn't ask-- he never does. That overwhelms Steve, he knows that. So he waits until Steve has calmed down enough, and listens when he inevitably breaks the silence.

This goes back to the earlier one where I totally believe that he has his space arranged exactly how he likes it! But also further, Steve is a man of routines. He has a routine for if Bucky is home and has a routine for if Bucky is gone for the night, but it's a weird in between space where if he knows Bucky is going to be home late, it's the same routine as "Bucky is home", but shifted a few hours later, which he doesn't like and struggles to reconcile. This has led to a few nights of Steve being snippy when Bucky gets home late because he's tired and disregulated and his routine is off.

[boynextdoorcoverpoison]

would love to know how the first time jaehyun calling sungho “yeppi” went down

[bandsanitizer]

park sungho the man that you are

[dxncingwithastrxnger]

8. like we’re made of starlight (Mileven)

A/N: Here’s day 8 of @flufftober​’s Flufftober for this year!!! Expect more later tonight and tomorrow!!!

Pairing: Mike Wheeler x El Hopper, Will Byers x Male!OC

Summary: Mike, El, Will, and Matthew walk home from the subway after spending some time at a little farm and pumpkin patch and some wishes are made.

Prompt: Day 8 - Shooting Stars

Tags: Fluff and friendship, Will Byers with a boyfriend :DDD

Song Inspiration: Starlight By Taylor Swift

Word Count: 766

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own.

[Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4] [Day 5] [Day 6] [Day 7] [Day 8] [Day 9] [Day 10] [Day 11] [Day 12] [Day 13] [Day 14] [Day 15] [Day 16] [Day 17] [Day 18] [Day 19] [Day 20] [Day 21] [Day 22] [Day 23] [Day 24] [Day 25] [Day 26] [Day 27] [Day 28] [Day 29] [Day 30] [Day 31]

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And there the 4 of them are, walking down the dim sidewalk each carrying their own basket of pumpkins and other autumn goodies from the farm they had just been at. El looks over at her brother walking along beside her. Matthew is on Will's other side and the two of them are watching each other in admiration, only looking away occasionally to make sure they aren't going to trip on the ground. They're walking close enough to each other that they bump shoulders every other step. El smiles fondly, seeing him so happy. Matthew seems like an amazing guy and he makes Will so happy, El's glad they found each other and she can't wait to get to know Matthew more in the future.

She's startled from her thoughts by an elbow nudging her other side and she turns to see Mike looking at her. Her smile turns slightly bashful. "Hey." She whispers to him.

"Hey." He whispers back, returning her smile. His ears and nose are pink from the cold air around them and he's been wearing this light orange beanie all day that's absolutely adorable on him.

El looks down for a moment, overwhelmed by how taken she is by him. She shakes her head at herself right as she hears Matthew speak up. "Guys, look!"

El and Mike look up to where Matthew's pointing, Will's eyes already there as well. In the sky, among the faint stars above them, a streak passes by in a line of white light, just slightly brighter than the other stars around it. El's eyes light up and she beams. A shooting star. An instinct as old as she is has her closing her eyes and making a little wish, suddenly feeling so much younger than she actually was. Maybe it's childish, but it still brought her just as much joy now as it did when she was a kid.

She opens her eyes and immediately looks to Mike, her body making the decision before her brain does. His eyes are closed, too, and he opens them slowly. When he realizes she's staring at him, he flushes and ducks his head before looking at her again. "W-what did you wish for?" He stutters out slightly.

You. El's mind whispers. She shakes her head at him instead. "I can't tell you that, silly. If I tell you what my wish is, it won't come true." She states playfully, though she knew that it wasn't at all true considering their conversation the night before.

Will snorts on her other side. "Seriously, Gracie?" Will questioned, his nickname for her holding the same fondness and familiarity as always. "I don't care if anyone hears my wish." He states matter-of-factly.

"Oh, really?" El questions. "Then what did you wish for?" She asks. She could hear faint snickers from Mike and Matthew, but she didn't really care.

Will's grin suddenly turns dopey and lovesick as he answers. "That I'll be able to take Matthew home for Christmas to meet mom and dad." He tells her honestly.

At his words, El turns to look at Matthew to see his reaction and is pleased when she sees Matthew turn bright red, smiling shyly at Will as Will catches his eye. "I th-think that could be a-arranged." Matthew spoke quietly. Will beams at his boyfriend and leans over to kiss him sweetly.

"Well aren't they just adorable." Mike says, his voice close to El's ear. She jumps slightly and turns towards him once again.

"Yes, they're the cutest." She answers, her cheeks hot from Mike's previous closeness.

"The cutest, huh?" Mike questions, raising an eyebrow at her. He's giving her a knowing look, like there's some secret that only the two of them know, and El has a feeling she knows exactly what he's talking about.

"Okay, maybe not the cutest." She whispers to him softly, their shoulders bumping together.

"Is it weird that I really wish I could hold your hand right now?" Mike asks her, biting his bottom lip like he's uncertain of his own question.

El giggles softly. "Not at all. I'd definitely allow it, too, if I had a free hand to be held." She admits. "Maybe next time." She says, giving him a look full of sincerity.

Mike gives her a look back full of happiness and warmth. "Next time." He echoes, and El gives him the same exact look back.

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A/N: Here we go!!! Finally started writing more days!!!!! Definitely gonna be posting more of these within the next 24 hours!!! Let me know what you think of this one!!!! I really love it a lot and I was super exicted to add in more characters!!!!! Hope you’re having an amazing day/night!!!!! 💜💜💜

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Taglist:

@the-ancient-fae​

[mconlight]

“get out of my house!” (turn this into angst and we’re fighting)

horror inbox memes   ♡

status: it's always spooky season in haneul land~

the first time haneul saw him, he thought he was just imagining things.

he visits his therapist three times a week and, while mister seo is very kind to him and always eases his worries, there's nothing that can shake the feeling haneul got on his way to mr. seo's office.

haneul takes the 3 train eastbound and gets off at exactly four stops. when he reemerges from the subway station, he walks two blocks and takes a flight of stairs upward to where ms. im greets him with a smile and asks if he has a girlfriend yet, he's just so cute. he tells her no with a shy smile because— imagine! haneul! a girlfriend! holding hands and going places together where he normally goes alone! imagine not being alone!

but today, when haneul steps up the subway stairs to begin his two blocks and one flight of stairs to smiley ms. im, a man bumps into his shoulder. mr. seo has been working on this with him— disruptions in his routines (his safety)— so he, at least, knows not to panic right away. instead he turns, says:

"i'm sor—"

tries.

the man stares back at him. his hair is fastened into a ponytail, and while the collar of his shirt stands tall, haneul's eyes focus on the tattoo on his neck. in bold, black ink, is a small line drawing of the sun with a diamond sitting right in the center. haneul's eyes drift back upward and he can't— that look, it's—

"get moving please!"

haneul's prodded into motion again, up up up the stairs with the flow of the foot traffic. but he's sure, undoubtedly, he's family.

he's seen haneul.

mr. seo questions if he's really seen a family member, or if he's perhaps stressed with all the new things he's trying with seunggi. his mind could be running wild, he could be reacting to a number of stressors, he's safe now.

he's safe now.

he thinks he sees his uncle here and there— when he's shopping for pears or through the window of the cafe he works at. but it could be anyone, he tells himself. he's probably just stressed about all these new things.

he's safe now.

***

haneul's quite excited today, actually. he's experienced a few halloween holidays before after his family was torn apart, but none of them were very fun since he was by himself (technically, by himself in the corner of the small party his support group put on every year, but it still counts). but this year! this year seunggi's explained to him all the nice and fun and festive things that he can do!

they've painted pumpkins (haneul is very squeamish with the knives still), they've drank hot chocolate (it's very delicious with the tiny fluffy sweets!), they've even watched a very scary movie (seunggi called it... oh, what was it? n...nightmare during christmas?)! and he's even invited haneul to his house for a real halloween party (he's also explained that it'll just be the two of them, for haneul's sake, but it's still his first real party)! and he's so excited to be participating like—

like a normal person.

he shows up to seunggi's door in a nicely pressed shirt and a tie because seunggi told him to dress up and... the only times he's ever had to dress up were for the funera—

"hi seunggi! i'm here!" he really is, he's so proud! he memorized the route to seunggi's house at least three days in advance and he really made it on his first try! he hasn't even cried this time, he's so proud!

seunggi ushers him inside and haneul explains that he's dressed up too, to which seunggi very patiently explains that he's supposed to be dressed as something different ("different?" haneul questions, head tilting with confusion. "but i like being hannie. i want to be hannie.") and sets haneul to his very special cookie decorating task.

they're not expecting anyone, as far as haneul knows. seunggi did say that it'd be the two of them today, so when there's a buzz at seunggi's door, he only glances at his friend with furrowed brows. it really on intensifies when seunggi answers. and lingers. he can hear his low, hurried voice speaking to a rougher one on the other side of that threshold, but he can't make out any of the words exchanged between them. the curiosity brings him closer— wondering if maybe he can help seunggi somehow with the pumpkin-shaped sugar cookie in his hand. maybe their guest likes sugar cookies.

his head pops up behind seunggi's shoulder and all haneul sees is a little line drawing of the sun, a diamond in the center. his eyes follow the neck upward to unkind eyes. they recognize haneul, and haneul recognizes them. his skin crawls. he shrinks. and seunggi slams the door with a firm, "get out of my house!"

haneul knows full well that the man followed him here, maybe even thinking that this was haneul's home. his hands shake and the poor cookie in his hands is reduced to crumbs and seunggi turns to him and says something but he can't hear him with the blood rushing to his ears and he's sure he's still breathing but his lungs feel so tight and uncle didn't look happy and maybe he'll come back to givehaneulfamilytimelikeallthetimesbeforeand

he's

safe

now.

[smallestapplin]

That shiny request reminds me of an old brain rot I had: How about a friends to lovers fic between Emmet and a shiny hunter/breeder reader? They met in the daycare and become pals despite their different breeding niches. Emmet breeds pokemon for competitive play while the reader can't tell the difference between EVs, IVs, and Eevees. One day, the reader asks Emmet to help them become a better trainer since owning shinys makes you a target for pokemon thieves. How does a romance bloom from there?

I’ve never understood those either, but I’ve always made sure my babies trained 😤 also to make my writing easier I did give reader a team.

Asks are open

-

-

You two were childhood friends. Your family ran the Pokémon day care and we’re a family of breeders, just about everyone in Anville town got their partner Pokémon from your family.

Your family was already excited at how well you had taken to the family job.

You didn’t stop until you accidentally hatched an egg that had a shiny, you were so excited to show it off to your family as a kid. Who were shocked to see a dark orange rufflet.

When you were told how rare that was you squealed in excitement and quickly bonded to the small bird, the Rufflet was attached to your hip and would scare off anyone else.

And that’s how you meant Emmet. You recognized him and his twin who’s parents stopped by to get the pleading boys a partner Pokémon.

And when he saw you had a Pokémon he wanted to battle.

“But I don’t want Pumpkin to get hurt.”

“Battle me! Your weird Rufflet against my joltik!”

“But-“

You had no choice that day as Pumpkin instantly jumped off your shoulder and stood bravely.

You won barely but that was enough for Emmet to view you as a rival.

You taught Emmet about breeding Pokémon for specific traits and he took all your information to heart.

Even as years passed he still came to you for questions until he became confident in his abilities.

He fought and caught all his teams but has a love for his yellow spider babies and soon had so many, though he bred his for more fighting based states.

You only bred for shinies. Granted you worked for your parents so any Pokémon was usually given to professors or trainers.

This is how you got your team, whom you mainly only had for companions, pumpkin evolved and you, Emmet, and Ingo screamed at how pretty the blue was.

Your team was a pretty blue Braviary, a pink Mienshao, a blue ringed Whirlipede, a dark teal duosion, and a yellow Larvesta.

Each battle you had, Emmet won.

You didn’t think much of it until you were visiting the twins in Nimbasa city, where they had to try and work as subway bosses.

You were at their house alone, unaware that someone took interest in the yellow Larvesta that you carry around like a baby.

You didn’t know they followed you to the twins home.

Not until the broke in and your screams echoed in the house, pumpkin came out of his pokeball and the large aggressive bird scared the would be thief off.

You called Emmet and explained everything.

“Hey can you teach me how to battle properly? So my Pokémon can protect themselves from something like this?”

Emmet’s heart broke at your scared tone.

“Of course! We are friends, I was going to force you to anyways, Pumpkin maybe big and intimidating but he is not very strong, we will get to work!”

Soon Emmet was teaching you how to battle, type match ups, combos, what is super effective and not effective against what.

“It’s best to give a Pokémon a variety of moves, sure Braviary is a flying type but he can learn more moves aside from flying, which can help if your opponent isn’t weak against flying type attacks.”

He gave you so much information that you’re grateful Ingo gave you several of their old books on the topics.

Emmet watched you study and practice, helping and guiding you along the way. He was there to squeal and cry with you through every evolution and seeing the off colored Pokémon.

He thinks the power blue on Reuniclus is pretty and the more tealish blue on Scolipede’s rings are to die for.

He watched you grow as a trainer and the longer he did the more he started he realized he had fallen for you.

“Emmet! Can we battle? I wanna show you how far I’ve gotten!”

He laughs at your excitement.

“Of course, but I won’t go easy on you.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

And with that the battle was intense. Ingo was the mediator, who watched in awe at the explosive and flashy battle between you and his twin.

Pokémon dropping.

It was Emmet’s Archeops vs your Mienshao.

And a well timed bounce held your victory.

“I…I beat you? OH MY ARCEUS I BEAT YOU!” You cheered, quick to hug and cheer with your Mienshao who was purring happily.

Emmet was beyond happy, his joy was bright and obvious.

As if on autopilot he walked towards you.

Your smile melts his heart and he can’t help himself but to hug you. Picking you up and spinning you around.

But he started smothering your face with kisses is what caught you off guard.

“I’m so verrrry proud of you! You’ve come so far!….o-oh! Oh my-I’m so sorry I don’t know what came over me!” Emmets puts you down and instantly starts apologizing.

You’re so dazed that your childhood friend turned crush was just smooching your face.

“Yeah no it’s cool-“

“I’ve just liked you for so long and it wasn’t even thinking oh Arceus I’m so sorry!”

“Emmet it’s okay, I like you too.”

“I can’t believe I-…wait what.”

He heard you was the funny part, if the look of realization over took his face before he squeals and sprints to Ingo to tell him the news.

As if Ingo hasn’t been standing there from the begging.

[goldentournesol]

Be Careful What You Wish For

(Spencer Reid x Reader)

The one where Spencer gets exactly what he wished for, but it isn’t necessarily for the best.

Length: 5k 

A/N: this is based off of maybe one of the best requests i have ever received, thank you so much anon, your request really got my creative juices going! also i combined this request with another one, too <3 (angst, just straight up, with happy ending tho)

masterlist

The sun was shining against the glass windows of the car. The sunset was so beautiful with its melting and merging colors, Y/N wished it lasted longer so she could watch it. It’d been feeling like beautiful moments were few and far between lately. 

No one ever said being in a relationship was easy, but she’d never expected to drift this far from Spencer. She couldn’t exactly place the moment at which the descent of their relationship began, if she was being honest. One day, they’d be happy, smiling, full of love and life. And then the next, waves of darkness and despair would appear. They weren’t even the kinds of waves that would disappear with the shining sun. No, they were there to stay and fuel the storm that continues to rage on. 

Today was one of those days. To be fair, the whole team was struggling, but Spencer had taken Morgan’s departure a little harder than everyone else. It was understandable, of course. Derek was a staple in Spencer’s life for so long. However, for a man who’s seen and been through so many losses, he sure was terrible at dealing with them. Spencer’s tendency to keep things bottled up had definitely been affecting the overall health of their relationship. In fact, it has been the root of a lot of their arguments lately. Y/N just wanted him to let her in, let her help him and she was willing to wait however long it takes. Spencer on the other hand grew more and more snappy, irritable, and private with each passing day.

When they were at work, they tried their best to avoid each other so as to not get on each other’s nerves. Their fights usually didn’t turn into screaming matches, but they both had a track record of saying things they don’t mean. Hurtful things. Turns out profilers are fantastic at rubbing salt into open wounds. 

Ever since they began dating, Spencer took the subway less, opting for car rides with Y/N. Sometimes she’d drop him off, other times they’d spend the rest of the day at each other’s houses. She enjoyed driving him around, at first he was never too picky with the music she played, but later on, his music began to overtake hers. It never bothered her, in fact, she took it as a sign of him being vulnerable and sharing parts of himself.

The days where car rides once filled with joyous singing and laughter were coming to a shocking halt. The silence nowadays was almost always louder than the music they used to play. Even small talk felt like too much of a burden sometimes.

“Should I just drop you off at your place? Or do you wanna come over to mine? I still have some of that lasagna you liked in the fridge.” She asked softly as they slowed down into traffic. Rush hour in DC was never fun.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just have whatever’s at my place.” Spencer was being curt with his responses. Thus, the warning signs began flashing in her head.

“Are you sure? We can even pick something up from that one grocery store on our way home, something that goes well with the lasagna. I don’t mind cooking today.” She offered, hoping he wouldn’t shut her out like he usually did.

He shook his head, keeping his voice eerily level and his gaze was set on the road in front of him, “I just really wanna be home, Y/N.”

She nodded and whispered, “Okay.”

A short silence ensued as traffic began to thin out. Cars that were stuck bumper to bumper were beginning to move.

“Is this about Derek leaving?” She asked tentatively. He sighed and pursed his lips in response so she continued, “You know he said he was always a phone call away.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” Spencer said shortly, gazing out the window.

“You never want to talk about anything.” She said defeatedly, the car beginning to move freely on the road.

“Yeah, well maybe that’s true. Or maybe I just don’t want to talk to you.” Spencer spat, clearly growing impatient.

“Fine, don’t talk to me then. But talk to someone, anyone! Hell, talk to Derek himself. Tell him you hate him for leaving or whatever you’re feeling, but don’t take out your anger and unresolved feelings out on me, okay? I don’t deserve that! Everyday I try to get you to talk to me, but it seems like with every little step I take forward, you take two steps back. And it’s exhausting. It is fucking exhausting, Spencer.” She frowned, tears welling up in her eyes but she refused to let them fall.

“I didn’t ask you for that! I didn’t ask for you to be my personal therapist. If I wanted to see a therapist, I would have gone to see one!” Spencer gestured wildly with his hands as he spoke.

“Spencer, in a relationship, we’re supposed to confide in one another. It’s supposed to be comforting. I don’t want to be your therapist, I just want you to talk to me!” She unconsciously began to press on the pedal, perhaps in an attempt to reach a destination quicker. He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Relationship? You call this a relationship? We can barely stand to be in the same room together, Y/N.”

“And that’s why we talk it out. No relationship is ever perfect! You should know that, Spencer!” She shrieked, gripping the steering wheel in frustration.

“That’s not true. What I had with Maeve was perfect until it was ruined.” He uttered.

“Maeve?!” She squealed incredulously, “Really?! What you had with Maeve was perfect?! Spencer, what you had wasn’t real like us! You spoke to her over the phone once a week! You wrote to her in letters, where you have time to-to think and to respond! It isn’t like real life, it isn’t like you and me! What we have is real! I-I’ve lived with you, I’ve seen you torn to pieces, I’ve seen you laugh until you cry. That’s the you I fell in love with, not some fantasy I created of you over the phone!” She spoke but the words were garbled between incoming sobs that she was frantically wiping the remnants of off her cheeks. The same sobs she’d tried so hard to suppress. She was barely aware of the words that came out of her mouth.

“If what I had with Maeve wasn’t real, then why do I wish she were the one here with me instead of you?!” Spencer defended, unaware of how sharp his words were or how deeply they’d wounded her.

Her breath hitched in her throat, taking her already blurry vision off of the road in front of her to face him, “What?” She whispered brokenhearted, but the utterance was immediately swallowed by the unmistakable, earsplitting sound of metal clashing violently against metal. They had no choice but to succumb to the inundating darkness that rapidly overtook them both.

***

Spencer woke with a violent start and sat up in his own bed. He sighed in relief when he realized it was just a dream and it was morning again. Turning his head to look at the left side of the bed where she usually slept, he expected to find her there and was taken by surprise when she wasn’t. He rubbed at his face and eyes vigorously before hearing some clattering in the kitchen. With long strides he saw a blurry figure in the kitchen making coffee and walked towards it. 

He sighed in relief, “Hey, there you are. I just had the worst dream.” He huffed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face in her neck in his half-asleep state.

“Hey, good morning, lovebug.” She smiled and turned around to hug him tightly.

Something felt off. Something wasn’t right.

He’d heard that voice before. He pulled back from the hug and was met by…

It wasn’t Y/N. It was Maeve.

Spencer could barely control his expression as complete bone-stilling shock washed over his entire being, “M-Maeve?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong, honey? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She said, a kind smile resting upon her features. If Spencer wasn’t so shocked, he’d probably have laughed at the absurd truth of that statement. Maeve brought her hand up to his forehead, “Are you feeling okay?”

He didn’t even have time to be confused before he jerked back quickly at the touch of her hand, “I-uh, uh...I’m not feeling too g-good. Um...what’s happening?” He mumbled, rubbing at his eyes again, almost like they’d be polished and he’d see more clearly. But when he opened his eyes again, she was still there. Right in front of him. There was no light emitting from behind her, she was totally opaque. It was eerily real.

Her face was full of color and life and she was dressed in one of his cardigans over her own set of matching pajamas. She was moving and...alive. And speaking to him. What is happening right now?

“But y-you’re...how are you here right now? Am I still dreaming? Am I...Maeve, am I dead?” Spencer shook his head in an attempt to wake back up.

She began to laugh and pulled out a chair for him to sit on, and so he did, still staring up at her in disbelief, “No, baby, you’re very much alive. You’re probably just still confused from whatever nightmare you had. Here, have some water.”

“Y-yeah, yeah, confused. Um, what day is it?” Spencer began to pat on his chest to make sure he was solid and alive. 

She looked at him curiously at his strange behavior, “It’s April 5th, 2016.”

April 5th? Derek left the BAU near the end of March. A light bulb went off in his head. 

The BAU! 

They’d have all the answers. He shot up from his seat immediately, “I uh, have to get to work.” Spencer rushed to his bedroom to get dressed. 

As he’s dressing, he spots a picture frame on his bedside table. He knows the picture by heart, it was of him and Y/N in the pumpkin patch last year. He���d had his arms tightly wound around her shoulders and was kissing her cheek. The leaves were the most colorful they’d ever been. He picked it up and almost dropped it immediately like it had burned his skin. It was the same picture. 

But Y/N was nowhere to be seen. In her place was Maeve.

No, no, no. This isn’t right. 

Spencer began to panic as he buttoned up his shirt, he threw on his cardigan and practically flew out the door. In the distance, he could hear Maeve in the background calling out for him to drink his coffee before leaving.

The train ride to work was truly a test of his patience. He couldn’t keep his knee still and checked his watch religiously. After the train stopped, was the first one off and ran as fast as his poor feet could take him. He stopped running when he got to the FBI Headquarters as to not alarm anyone, but raced to the sixth floor anyway.

As he opened the glass doors he searched frantically for any familiar face, “Garcia!” He yelled as he spotted her bright yellow clad figure across the bullpen. He pushed through tired agents and messy desks to get to her. Everything else was the same, the office was just as he remembered it.

“Good morning, boy wonder! How are you today?” She smiled graciously, holding a few files in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

“Have you seen Y/N?” He asked impatiently. She pulled her brows together.

“Do you mean Y/N...Y/L/N?” She asked slowly, as if trying to recall her name.

“Yes, of course I mean Y/N Y/L/N. Who else would I be talking about?” Spencer asked, once again losing more of his patience.

“No, I haven’t seen her, to be honest. I don’t see much of the White-Collar Crime division up here unless Hotch asks for them. Why do you need Y/N? Is she okay?” Garcia casually answered, as if her answer hadn’t turned his world--this world--whatever the hell he was experiencing upside down.

“White-Collar crime? No, that can’t be right.” Spencer muttered to himself as his brain raced a million miles a second.

“Reid, is everything alright? Is there a possible case? Should I tell Hotch?” Garcia asked, but Spencer was barely listening.

 He was on his way back to the elevators again, leaving an extremely confused Penelope in his wake. He raced down to the fourth floor, to the White-Collar crime division. As the elevator doors opened, his eyes scanned the crowded floor for her.

“Dr. Reid! It’s nice to see you down here. What can I do for you?” An agent, Agent Seymour, he’s met perhaps once before asked him.

“Hi, yes, I’m um..looking for one of your agents. Agent Y/L/N.” Spencer stuttered, it was weird saying her name so formally. But he had to see it with his own eyes.

“Yes, of course, right this way. I think she just came in.” The agent led him to a desk in the middle of the bullpen and left him, saying that she was probably getting coffee and should be back an second. Spencer looked over her desk and compared it with how her desk at the BAU looked like. Gone were the trinkets and books he’d given her. Gone was the candle she never lit, but kept anyway because she said it smelled like him. It was like staring at a stranger’s desk, so desolate, so...un-special.

“Jeremy, stop. I almost spilled my coffee!” She giggled from behind him. He’d recognize her voice anywhere. He turned to see her and his lungs filled with relief as he spotted her familiar face across the bullpen. There she was, in all her glory. Looking as beautiful as ever. His Y/N. But the relief was ripped away all too suddenly as he watched on. She had her coffee in one hand and the other was swatting a very sheepish looking Jeremy, he assumed.

“I’m sorry, baby. I just missed you.” He spoke, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her lips. 

She blushed immediately and shied away, “Jeremy, we’re in the office!” She giggled again and pulled away from him, glancing around the office as if to check if anyone saw the moment of affection. Spencer’s blood boiled before he realized.

She looked so happy. 

So much happier than she ever looked when she was with him. His heart sank to his feet and he felt like he was incapable of lifting it back up to its rightful place in his chest. He wondered if this was the universe’s cruel, cruel way of letting him know just how shitty of a boyfriend he’s really been. Fire of envy festered in the place where his heart used to reside. He wasn’t sure if it was jealousy, resentment, or guilt. 

It all felt so strange. It felt like there was suddenly way too much pressure in his head. Before he could begin to compute the events unfolding before him, he realized she had spotted him at her desk and was now making her way across the bullpen, separating from her Jeremy. Before he could freak out, she was speaking to him. And all he could focus on was the shape of her lips and the faint memory of how they felt pushing against his.

“Dr. Reid! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you here?” She asked politely, but Spencer could tell that she was immeasurably confused by his presence, “Does Agent Hotchner need something from the White Collar crimes archives?”

Spencer panicked, “Yes! Um, he does...and um he asked me to ask you s-specifically. That’s why I’m here, heh.” He stammered like the nervous wreck he was and wiped his sweaty palms on the inside of his pockets.

“Okay, that’s no problem. Just tell me the number of the file and I’ll get it for you.” She smiled slightly, setting her cup of coffee down on her desk. At least her coffee order was still the same as it was. 

She disappeared for a few moments after he gave her a random sequence of numbers. Spencer wasn’t even sure how his legs were still capable of holding himself up. When she came back and he got a whiff of her perfume, his body completely stilled. He knows that scent like the back of his hand, he’d given it to her for their first anniversary. The fresh scent nearly sent him into anaphylactic shock. He’d accepted the file and scurried back to the sixth floor without another word, once again leaving a confused woman in his wake.

Spencer collapsed at his desk and rubbed his head like it would somehow fix this. Whatever this was. Everyone around him operated so normally and went about their day while he was seconds away from losing his mind. 

Was he having a schizophrenic scare? Did his symptoms bleed into his 30’s even though they weren’t supposed to? What was this alternate universe where he’d lost the one good thing he’s ever known? How was he supposed to get back? Did he want to go back? What would happen if he did? Would it be fair for Y/N to stick with him when he knew she would be so much happier with someone else? Would he try harder for her? Would he stop shutting her out? Would the woman he loved so dearly ever love him back?

He must not have ever been deserving of her love and the universe was punishing him in the worst way possible. To have her be within arm’s reach but to never be able to hold her. 

Once upon a time, he would have given up anything and everything to be with Maeve, but that was before Y/N. Before she gave him a new life, one he wanted to live. One where waking up wasn’t such a task. One where seeing her smile at him was enough to make him forget about all his worries. But now Y/N looked at him with barely a sliver of recognition. There was no affection or adoration behind those eyes and maybe he deserved that.

But how was this universe expecting him to go on like everything is fine? Like he hadn’t just lost the love of his life? No one else in this warped version of Spencer’s reality was feeling as dejected as Spencer was.

“Reid, are you feeling alright?” The voice of none other than Aaron Hotchner brought him out of his stupor. Spencer had unknowingly been sobbing into his hands for the past few minutes. Hotch was taken aback at the extent of Spencer’s disheveled state.

“H-Hotch, I need to go home. I can’t be here. I’m sorry.” Spencer packed his things and ran out the building before he realized he had nowhere to go. Home wasn’t his home anymore. He couldn’t exactly go back and see his dead girlfriend wandering around his apartment. He couldn’t be at work where Y/N was, so blissfully unaware of the crisis Spencer was in the middle of.

He wandered the streets of DC aimlessly as he tried to reorganize the events in his head and somehow make sense of them. Just a few days ago, he and Y/N had been holding one another on his couch. Sure, they’d been in a rut recently, but they still loved each other. At least that’s what he thought.

He walked and walked, miles on end, keeping his gaze on his feet as he tried to piece bits together. An IQ of 187 and he had absolutely no idea how whatever was happening to him happened. Even the multiple universes theory didn’t have his back. If he was ‘here’, where has ‘here’s’ Spencer gone? 

His feet had taken him to the local park, where he and Y/N used to sit under the stars. He found himself reminiscing the times they were together. He saw himself and Y/N in every couple that passed him by. Exhausted, Spencer took a seat on a patch of grass. He buried his face into his hands and tried to relieve himself of the headache he’d developed. 

“Hey, mister! Watch out!!” He heard a child yell way too loudly.

Groaning at the volume, he looked up to see the vague shape of a spinning baseball increasing in size as it moved closer….closer. Spencer had no time to react before he was knocked out cold by the baseball.

***

The first thing she’d heard was the incessant beeping of...something next to her. After that, she’d heard faint chatter. The voices sounded familiar but she just couldn’t put her finger on it. She whimpered in pain which caught the attention of everyone in the room. The chatter ceased. 

“Y/N? Honey, it’s Pen, can you hear me?” A voice called. She fought to open her eyes.

Why was it so hard to open her eyes? It was like they were glued shut. Why did everything hurt? What is that smell?

She made a small noise of agreement to the voice that called, but could not coordinate herself enough to speak or open her eyes.

“Y/N, darling, you’re in the hospital, okay? You were in a car accident.” She spoke softly. 

But the words weren’t soft at all. Her words had opened up a Pandora’s box of previously suppressed memories. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. It was hard to breathe as she tried to remember the last moments before the fog. She remembered seeing him so angry, eyes so wild. Who is he? So...so close. She whimpered in pain as she fought the fog away. 

Blood.

So much blood. 

Pain.

So much pain.

The others watched as she began to writhe against the hospital bed in discomfort. Her eyes snapped open the second she saw his face in her mind, frantically searching the room for him.

Spencer.

“Sp-Sp--” She began, but couldn’t formulate the rest of the word. Exhausted and defeated by the lack of his presence, she lay back on the bed.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Spencer’s...Spencer’s fine, alright? You can’t see him right now, but you will be able to.” Those words were the last thing she heard before she slipped off into a silent slumber.

Hours later, she awoke again. But this time with enough strength to open her eyes immediately. Her limbs felt like they weighed tons, she could barely lift a finger. The room was empty besides a single chair with a blurry figure seated in it.

“Spencer?” She uttered almost inaudibly and the figure moved.

“Hey there. Sorry, I’m not Spencer.” The figure moved closer and she recognized the blonde sheen.

“JJ.” Y/N croaked with relief, happy to see a friend. JJ promptly gave her some water in a cup and adjusted the bed so that she would be able to swallow it.

“How are you feeling?” She asked, taking the cup from Y/N’s trembling hands.

Y/N shook her head imperceptibly, “Is...Spence--is he?” Y/N barely got to finish her thought before the tears settled in.

“No, gosh, no. He’s alive. Thankfully, you both made it out alive.” JJ said with relief, leaning her elbows against the side of her bed. Y/N felt her breathing get easier as she learned of the news. She blinked hard, trying to control the tears, but they just flowed out.

“It’s my fault, JJ.” she paused to take a deep breath and JJ took one of her hands in hers, “I was the one driving. I should have been more careful. I-I was so mad.” She sobbed, the tears escaping.

“Hey, no, it’s alright now. Okay, you’ve both made it out alive, that’s what’s important.” JJ rubbed Y/N’s knuckles.

“W-where is he? I need to see him.” Y/N attempted to sit up but winced from the sharp pain in her side.

“Um..yeah, about that. You can’t really get up yet. You’ve got three broken ribs, a broken leg, and a severe concussion.” JJ delivered the news and Y/N’s tears seemed to flow even harder.

Before she could respond, Hotch, Penelope, and a nurse walked into the room, “Oh, sunshine! It’s so good to see you awake!” Penelope squealed and kissed her wet cheek gently before wiping away her tears. The nurse checked all her vitals and gave her some extra information before she left. Y/N forced a smile and sat back, but something in the room felt heavy.

“What’s going on? What aren’t you guys telling me?” Y/N frowned, staring at her friends. She saw them all exchange a look and Hotch being the most straightforward man she knows decided to deliver the news.

“It’s Spencer. Unfortunately, Spencer’s brain has swelled significantly and doctors don’t know when he’ll wake. It’s already been almost 42 hours since the accident.” Hotch frowned, watching Y/N’s expression turn from a hopeful one into one of the most unbearable expressions of grief.

“Wh--what, what does that mean? Does that mean he’s--is he ever going to wake up?” She began to panic, her heart rate audibly increasing. She squeezed JJ’s hand as hard as she could.

“We can’t be sure yet, the swelling has to go down before doctors can make any claims. It’s still too early to say he’s in a coma, which is a good sign. He’s also been showing steady signs of improvement.” Hotch said and Y/N covered her face to shield herself away from the embarrassment of openly sobbing.

JJ and Penelope both looked at the bruised and broken girl on the bed with tears brimming their eyes, unsure of what to do.

“I have to see him. Please. Please, JJ.” Y/N sobbed, pleading at the woman beside her. JJ looked towards Hotch for guidance.

“I’ll speak with the Doctor and see what I can do.” Hotch nodded once and left the room. Aaron Hotchner was simply a man you couldn’t say no to. Thankfully, this extended to doctors as well. The next time someone came in, they entered with a wheelchair. After many screams and with the help of three nurses and a doctor, they managed to get Y/N into the wheelchair. They rolled her off into Spencer’s room where he lay motionless on a bed just like hers. The sight of him so frail with so many tubes going in and out of his orifices should have overwhelmed her, but she was just so happy to see him breathing. Once again she could barely control her tears as she weakly gripped at the hand that was closest to her. She pressed sloppy, uncoordinated kisses to the back of his hand and pleaded for him to wake.

The sight was overwhelming, even for Hotch. It was difficult to see their two youngest agents fight for their lives.

And for the next two days, this is how it went. Y/N would wake from her slumber, request to see Spencer and would not leave his side unless her Doctor absolutely required her to. She didn’t care about what he’d said to her before the crash, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. She just wanted him here. She wanted to hear his voice again. What a luxury that was.

Slowly, Spencer began improving. He’d begin to open his eyes but shut them immediately afterwards. He’d make noises, even though they were very garbled, they were very welcome. Y/N would read to him, she’d have any one of their friends bring over his favorite books and she’d pass the time reading to him. It was difficult at first, but she’d improved too.

On the fifth day, he was awake and fully conscious before she even got to his room.

He heard his teammates speaking around him again and what a relief it had been to wake in a hospital bed rather than his own bed. He let out a heavy sigh of relief as they updated him of what happened in the recent days. 

It wasn’t real. 

None of it was.

Maeve wasn’t there, Y/N was his, no one else’s.

He’d been sure of it when they’d rolled her into his room and near his bed, eyes lit with hope surrounded by healing scrapes and bruises.

“Spence? Spencer!” She exclaimed, “Oh thank God you’re awake.” She whispered trying her hardest to lean towards him on the bed.

Spencer fought to raise his arm to touch her arm, “Y/N? A-are you really here?” He whispered back.

“I’m here baby, I’m here. I’m never leaving you.” She sobbed, leaning her face into his awaiting palm. Spencer’s chest filled with immense relief as his thumbs caught her fallen tears.

“Y/N, wait--Y/N, I’m so sorry...I’m so sorry about what I said. I remember. I didn’t mean it. You’re the one for me. Life is perfect with you.” Spencer frowned as tears of his own raced down his cheeks.

Y/N shook her head, “It’s okay, I don’t care about that anymore. I could have lost you. I-if I had lost you, I would have lost myself Spencer. I love you so much. I love you so much.” She repeated as she kissed the palm of his hand. 

“I love you so much, Y/N.”

How could he have ever wished to live without this? Without her?

The universe had taught him his lesson and boy was he glad he had learned it.

[kalis-scribbles]

Henchman (WIP)

Synopsis: After running out of options 19 years old Elizabeth ‘Liz’ Carpenter is left with only two option; Return to her abusive family or become a supervillain’s henchman. 

Liz ran through the streets of the city, her breath ragged and hair glued to her scalp with sweat, she was late and didn't have time to wait for the bus. Ragged of breath and drenched with sweat she made it to a little café on Wellington street, quickly drawing some stares from the customer. 

She waded through the crowded lunch-time service and went to the back locker room, drying herself with a towel before putting on her uniform.

She was half finished when Mrs Cookham, owner of Walnut Tree café came in, arms crossed and looking severe. 

"You're late by an hour, this is the third time this week."

"I'm so sorry, my sister got into a fight at school and I had to go and get her for her suspension and find—"

"Enough excuses, I'm going to have to let you go." She said, "I've been understanding but this sets a bad example for the others, your last paycheck is in my office."

"But, please, I need this job, I know—"

"Elizabeth, I've had enough, just go, you work hard but you miss too much time."

Elizabeth's shoulders sank. She'd lost four jobs in as many months. She changed back into her wet clothes and Mrs Cookham brought her a cheque for the past ten days. She gave her thanks and left the café this time waiting for a bus to take her back to the subway station.

She'd need to find another job, she only hoped the money would last her the intervening time…

When she got home she went onto her laptop for another round of job hunting, staying until eight when it came time to go pick up her sister from her friend's home. 

***

In the morning Liz came out of her room with heavy bags under her eyes, having stayed up filling forms online. She would call the temp agency and hoped they might have something for her. 

Her sister came out of her bedroom, still wearing her pajamas. 

"Aren't you getting ready for work?" Zoe asked with a yawn, "I thought you worked this morning?"

"I got fired, again."

Zoe went quiet. "It's my fault isn't it? You were late."

"It's okay pumpkin, I'll find another job," Liz sighed.

"But If I hadn't gotten into that fight—"

"Kids do dumb stuff, you shouldn’t have to worry about me." She put a hand on her sister's head, "I'll find another job, I always do."

Zoe wrapped her arms around her sister and squeezed tightly. "I love you," she said.

"I love you too, now get ready you can't be late for school."

She quickly made breakfast and a bagged lunch for her sister hushered her out of the door. Liz got dressed and went down to the bank, cashing in the money only to spend all of it paying due bills. 

She had a little cash left for food, but that was it. 

She went back home, calling the temp agency, who did not have any space for her but would call her as soon as they had an opportunity.  As noon came about Liz put on her uniform as she had an afternoon shift for her other, now only, job. 

Liz arrived at the mall on time and clocked in to her job. It was just any other day in retail; restocking shelves, cleaning the aisles, dealing with rude customers blaming her for their favorite soda being out of stock. 

A typical day in retail. Retail was the worst, Liz thought, but she needed money. 

Liz was in the middle of checking out customers when an alarm blared loudly through the store. "Seek shelter, battle in progress." Liz dropped her scanner only for the old lady to call, 

"You can't just leave!"

"Ma'am there's an alert in progress we need to clear out."

"But you finished scanning, just need to pay, I have my credit card!"

"I cannot help you, the system locks when there's an alarm."

"How rude, I want to speak to your mana—" The lady was cut off as something crashed right through the store's roof, sending dust and debris all over. Liz dunked behind the freezers, hoping it would shelter her from any danger.

She gazed back and saw the 'something' was a man in full superhero costume. 

Great, Liz thought, superhero nonsense was about to ruin her day. Another cape flew in, this one in a darker suit. Liz assumed the villain. 

The two fought, exchanging punches and energy blasts. 

The fridge next to Liz exploded when it was hit by a stray blast, a piece of glass blew out and hit her in her forehead, leaving a long bleeding cut.

"There's civilians here you assholes!" Liz snapped. 

She removed her apron and applied it to her forehead to staunch the blood. 

The capes kept fighting, crashing through displays, blowing things up. 

Liz sighed and went down on all four, crawling toward the back of the store. She fucking hated capes. 

By the time she made it out back another cape had joined the fight, making it two one one. Liz pushed herself out of the door and ran out into the parking lot. She ran over to the shelter. 

Concrete stairs lead into a small bunker where other people were waiting. Her boss saw her.

"Liz, what happened?"

"Shrapnel."

Mr. Ramone went and got the first aid kit, carefully cleaning the wound and applying medical tape to help seal the wound.

"You'll have to see a doctor," he said, "it looks bad."

She didn't bother telling him she couldn't afford a doctor's visit if she wasn't actively dying.

She sat down, ice on the wound as the chaos above continued for a few minutes until an uncomfortable silence settled on the city.

"Is it over?" One of Liz' coworkers asked.

"I think?"

They waited with bated breath for a few minutes until the alarm siren rang a different tone. "Situation has been resolved," the automatic voice said, "It is now safe to leave the shelter."

Mr. Ramone was the first to leave, cautiously looking around. Liz followed, feeling light headed from losing blood. A large police van pulled up and the capes hauled the presumed-villain into it.

"Thank god it's over," Mr. Ramone said, "Capes, so inconsiderate!"

"If you ask me the customers are worse," Liz grumbled. 

They cautiously went back inside. The store was in a bad shape; shelves had been knocked all over, fridge ripped out of their place, the windows had exploded. The only saving grace was that the damaged electrical hadn't started a fire.

Mr. Ramone went and cut the power to be safe. 

Liz grabbed a broom and began cleaning up the mess of glass. It would be a long and horrible shift, her Co-workers made their best trying to set the shelves right and throw away all the damaged product. 

Police came and spoke with Mr. Ramone but Liz didn't pay attention until he stepped upon a cash register and called everyone.

"Everyone, thanks for coming and for your help cleaning, but we'll be closed for a few weeks while the place is fixed, thank god we bought that extra insurance."

"I can't lose this job," Liz protested, "Can't we fix it?"

"It's just until the repairs are done, I'm sorry, it's the law, they have to condemn the building until engineers assess the damage."

Liz wanted to scream. Or pass out. Or both. 

A co-worker volunteered to drive her home, worried about her condition. She offered to get her to a clinic but Liz declined repeatedly, saying she was fine. Liz came home and crashed on the couch, passing in and out.

She was woken up by Zoe coming back from school.

"Liz! What happened?" She asked, seeing the bandage over her head.

"Fucking superheroes happened!"

"Is it bad?"

"I'll be fine," Liz said, "I just need some rest."

"I'll make dinner!" Zoe declared, "You rest!"

Liz smiled weakly, proud of her sister. She laid back and closed her eyes again.