#well at least good enough for her to send me a crying emoji

[beeh0n3y]

Guess whaaaatttt

it made my bestie/editor cry, that’s how you know the angst is good

[outsideratheart]

Us (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: I have no idea where this came from but it has been stuck in my head for a few weeks. I hope you guys like it!

You had been in the most important meeting of your career when you received a message.  You never turned your phone off in case there was an emergency but you did put it on do not disturb. The small vibration in your pocket told you 1 of 2 people were trying to get in touch with you. Your manager was in the meeting with you so it only left one person.

I need you, please can you come over.

As far as Alexia was aware you were in England. Your mind went to the worse case scenario because it had to be something bad if she was asking you to get on a plane and fly to Barcelona with no explanation. 

In the politest way possible you excuse yourself from the meeting and leave your future in the safe hands of your manager, who upon seeing your face backs your decision to leave without asking any questions.

A quick text is sent to your girlfriend saying that you are on your way but there’s no response. You try calling only there is no answer. By the time you get to her apartment building you are filled with worry and you waste no time in running up the stairs having no patience to wait for the elevator.

When you knock on the door you are not met by your girlfriend. 

“You’re the lion?” The resemblance was even more striking up close. You had met Alba once or you had at least been in the same room as her.

“Technically I’m a lioness” 

It makes a little more sense now. No one was aware of your relationship and in order to keep the questions at bay you didn’t save each others phone number under a name, instead it was an emoji. Yours was a lion due your national team’s nickname and your on pitch persona. Hers was a crown because she was your queen and known by the fans as La Reina.

“Alba let her in” another woman, Alexia’s mother, guides you through the apartment even though you have been here enough times to know your way around.

“You’re the girl my daughter has been seeing”  

“I am and I will happily introduce myself and answer any questions you may have after I have seen her”

“She’s in the living room. When we came she was crying and she won’t talk to any of us” one of Alexia’s best friends says.

It didn’t look good. Her mother, sister and best friend all at your girlfriends apartment yet she is refusing to talk to any of them

The three woman give you some space as you enter the living room. All of them hoped that you would have more luck at finding out what was wrong.

“Hello you” you crouch down so that you are at her level and without saying a word Alexia wraps her arms around you tightly. The speed of it almost sends you both to the ground but you steady yourself just in time.

Once on the sofa Alexia buries her face in the crook of your neck.

“How are you here?”

“That doesn’t matter. Alexia, what is wrong?”

“They won’t leave me alone. It’s like they are obsessed with my personal life. I’m happy, why isn’t that enough for them? Why do they need to get involved and keep bringing up the past?”

You were at a loss. Yes you were aware of the spotlight that was constantly on Alexia, one was on you as well but you had been dating for almost 2 years now and nobody was the wiser. 

“Who cariño?” Eli asks from the other side of the room. 

“The girls. They think that because Jenni signed for Atleti that we are going to get back together. We finally got back to a good place during the World Cup and no one seems to understand that we are just friends. We are Y/N, I promise nothing is going on” Alexia turns to look at you.

During the World Cup you saw the rumours and they spread quickly given that everyone assumes Alexia is single. At first it bothered you but the two of you talked about it and you realised that you were jealous for no reason. Alexia was your girl and only yours.

“I know” deep down you hated that she was still getting linked to another woman but it wasn’t a threat to your relationship so you let it go.

“They are going to ruin everything. They don’t even know and they are ruining—“

“Alexia, nobody is ruining anything. Let your friends talk. At the end of the day it is me and you”

The three other women in the room watched and listened as you talked Alexia through her panic. You were able to calm her and bring her peace in a moment that was very overwhelming for her.

“But Jenni is—“

“Jenni is your past and that cannot be changed. What have I told you?” You ask your girlfriend.

The woman who is still cuddled into your side mumbles something incoherent and you know she is mumbling because she doesn’t want the other women to know the words you told her during the summer.

“She’s your first love Alexia, I intend to be your last” you kiss the corner of her mouth. 

The sound of awes burst the little bubble that you had formed around you and Alexia. Clearly embarrassed, Alexia once again hides herself. 

Knowing that the two of you can’t ignore the introduction that the women are waiting for, Alexia officially introduces you to Eli, Alba and Miri as her girlfriend. 

“What happens now?” Alexia asks you “Do we tell people? I don’t want our bubble to break, everything is normal with you. We are Y/N and Alexia but when people find out we will be captains, players and rivals”

“Hey, calm down. They will change but we won’t. Do you want to be us normal or what everyone else expects us to be?”

“Us normal”

“Well then I am going to drive you back to your training facility, open the door for you like I always do, I’ll kiss you goodbye and then you’re going to go to work”

Your confidence was reassuring to all in the room.

Alexia tells you that she is going to freshen up in the bathroom which leaves you alone with three of the most important people in her life. Your media training comes in very handy as you are able to answer all of Alba’s and Miri’s questions without hesitation or breaking a sweat. However, Eli’s question catches you off guard.

“You’re the reason why Alexia didn’t come back to the room after the awards show in Dubai aren’t you?”

“Guilty but nothing happened” technically it was the truth, nothing did happen that night “We spent the night in the hotel bar talking then went to the beach to watch the sunrise”

“Can I ask you a question?” Alba says “If you were in England when you received the text would have come?”

“I would have been on the first flight out, yes”

It seemed to enough to please the younger Putellas because she simply nodded her head.

Once Alexia was ready you did as you said. The two of you drove to Joan Camper, Alexia quizzed you the entire car journey because you still hadn’t told her why you were in Barcelona. You open the door for her as expected but what Alexia didn’t expect was you to walk with her into the facility.

“I love that you care but you don’t have to do this for me, I can handle it” 

“Who says I’m doing it for you”

The two of you stop in front of the canteen. It was surrounded by glass windows and you can see the majority of the team eating their lunch.

“Us normal?” You ask Alexia and she nods her head. As you normally would whenever you visited her or she visited you, you kissed her once on the lips and then once on her hairline as she hugged you goodbye.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Alexia asks as you don’t go in the direction of the exit. 

“You asked how I’m here. Well, I have a job interview with your boss” 

[dnangelic]

The call comes a little past 10 PM. "Daisuke?" A little laugh, more of a hiccup than anything else. She sniffs. "Haha, I know I usually don't try talking this late. Guess I just wanted to shake it up a bit!" And it's true. She's formed a habit of sending good night texts, complete with a string of emojis, by 8 PM on the dot. But neither that or any warning text leading up to the sudden call had come through that night. There's a sharp intake of breath. "My aunt and uncle are out tonight, and I don't think my brother's coming home 'cause- actually, never mind. It's just- it's just-" Another sniffle, and her voice drops down as if she's not sure she wants to be heard. "It's awful quiet. And I don't..." she trails off. After a few moments of silence, she gasps, "Oh no, did I wake you up!? I'll never forgive myself if I interrupted your beauty sleep!"

@deiscension

the call comes a little past 10 PM --- past curfew , post-heist . the electric rush of adrenaline has already worn off ; the blood , sweat , and tears of it rinsed away by a warm bath ... leaving the niwa worn out in his bed . eyes that had slowly drawn themselves shut now open in a disturbed-sleep squint --- at first he thinks it must be risa or takeshi ringing ; didn't his friends often call him , loud , wide awake and full of eager enthusiasm even at midnight to ask if he had seen dark on tv again ? the evening hours and all of its attentions would always belong to the great phantom thief ; daisuke likewise left to produce all sorts of pitiful excuse and apology to anyone trying to reach him , but it's different this time .

it's the first time shi qingxuan had ever called him like this . daisuke has likewise been barely granted the span of enough seconds to mumble out a messy 'hello...?' as she follows the cue of the line's otherwise answered , lingering silence . there's something strange too in the other's voice that immediately pricks at the boy a little ; snaps him awake just as quickly as it did in the face of soaring goodmorning knives and electric needles . although she carries herself well , choice and sound of her words playful and lilting as ever at least in the start , it's still not the same . parts of it lacked ; other parts , the static of her every sniff , her punctured laugh --- he can't be sure , and another part of him doesn't want to think it's true , but ...

' shi qingxuan ... are you okay ? '

in an instant , he begins to worry . his hand presses against the receiving mic of his phone ; covers up his small grunt and sore , stinging hiss as he snaps himself into a seat upwards , alongside any possible dissuasion from shi qingxuan herself : if she was going to fret and tell him that she was just fine , then he wasn't going to hear it . surprises were always like this ; demanding as much immediate action as they did spontaneous improvisation , and he doesn't hesitate to start putting a fresh pair of socks on . was it too presumptuous ? was he being impulsive ? despite the dizzy buzz and renewed rush , he can still fill in every blank .

lacrimosa : ( i don't want to be all alone . )

' can --- can i visit you ?! ' he hops in place as he holds his phone up to his ear by a shoulder . what cotton pajamas he had just started to warm and get comfortable in are traded out for better outer-wear in as little as the blink of an eye . ' i mean , no , what i meant to say is , i'm already on my way --- ' would she try to stop him ? if she was the only one there , then she was the only one that could . but he hopes that she wouldn't . ' you didn't wake me up , i promise ! i was just --- o-on a walk outside ! i'm halfway to you already , ' not quite , only just now opening the window of his room and leaping right out of it before breaking into a sprint down the road , but if he hurried he could make it there in record time .

all for a friend . ( i don't only want to hear you cry . )

' i'll be right there , okay ? ' it doesn't strike him that she could possibly hear his panting ; his frantic , aching hurry . after all , despite it , his voice is still bright and kind --- the smile on his face , even unseen , still tries to reassure . ' it's alright . i promise ! even if you had woken me up , i'd be happy to talk with you . ' he laughs too , because there's nothing else to do , even as he's running himself out of breath again . ' but --- shi qingxuan , you'll ... you'll let me in , right ? ' don't fret over presentation . please , just wait for me . please , be willing to open the door . he wouldn't have intruded otherwise , even if he could have ; picked every lock , flung open every gate . even after making it all this way , if she earnestly refused him ---

' if ... it's lonely , then i want to be beside you . i want to talk to you face to face . '

... that was all .

[icarustica]

I refuse to title this “Dear Diary”.

Future Wednesday- 

My mother (and the court) have decided that in light of the “traumatic” events resulting in the death of the last therapist I visited, that I am fully justified in my request to not see any more. However, they did issue me this journal. And they intonated that if I don’t have it filled out in six months I’ll have to see a prison psychiatrist rather than a suburban one.

I’m considering leaving the rest of this blank. I think that prison psychiatrist and I would have a lot in common.

However, doing so would mean taking valuable time out of my day to go see some random person well-knowledged with the minds of freaks and criminals, when I could just go ask Grandmama down the hall.

So I suppose I shall have to use my effortless writing talent to fill this journal. Perhaps this is a good thing. The book I finished at Nevermore is quite possibly my best work, and I feel trying to match it with another would be both taxing and fruitless.

So. News.

Pugsley and I have been spending some quality time together. Bonding. Or, I should say, I’ve been practicing my bonding skills. He was stuck in that chair for three days last week. He loved it.

Well, I told him, if he truly has retained his zeal for torture and masochism he should enjoy spending next year at Nevermore with me. I’m deeply afraid of what it will do to him. But I suppose him and Eugene will most likely get along. What a pretty trio we’ll make.

My phone is buzzing. I’ll be right back.

It was Enid. She calls me every day at varying times. I pick up once or twice a week, when I’m feeling rather talkative. Sometimes she’ll even let me get a word or two in.

She’s cut and dyed her hair again, and this time she’s added varying shades of orange to the back. I’m not willing to tell her it looks like Garfield vomited on her head but I am willing to raise my eyebrow condescendingly and let her figure it out on her own. Hopefully the abomination will be gone by the time we resume school. Four days. That should give her just enough time to work up the courage, shave it all off, cry, and reinvent her entire personality before we get back.

Xavier and I text once in a while. He’ll send me pictures of his new artwork, and I’ll send him the pictures of Thing’s progress at dissection. For some reason he doesn’t like those. He sends me the little thumbs down emoji, which I take to be Thing doing an excellent handstand.

He’s stopped having dreams. For the most part. One time he texted me in the middle of the night, when I was having tea with my mother, that he dreamed of blood. Blood in the woods.

Odd. But not odd enough to warrant an investigation. At least, not yet.

We have a new principal, apparently. Someone new. He used to go to Nevermore, and with a name like Thaddeus Croon I doubt he’s one of the outcasts who escaped the ever-pervasive sense of superiority that plagues the Nevermore elite. Somehow I don’t think I’ll like him any more than Weems. Actually, though it makes me question things to admit it, I might miss her towering gloom. Just a tad. 

I haven’t had any more visions these last few months. Mother says that’s good, that nothing terrible is going to happen, but I worry…

Well. I worry they are done for good.

Good riddance.

Class lists came in. I’ve picked my electives - Archival Literacy, Mythology, and of course Fencing and Other Sword Sports. Mother would cut off my head if I didn’t. And I doubt she wants me to have that much fun just before school starts.

Enid and Xavier have forced me to also request an art class. I only agreed because I need the credit. And because “Wounded Watercolors” sounded easy enough to get an A in. And besides, I can provide my own paint - blood makes such a pretty splatter.

That’s enough for now. I do wish I could do this with a typewriter. Quill and ink tire me.

Wednesday Addams

Pugsley and I keep a tally of how many small animals we run over on the way to Nevermore.

It’s a good way to keep our nerves down. 

“Wednesday,” he says, his voice like the tiny squeaks of the rodents beneath our wheels. “I’m scared.”

“Good,” I reply. “They’re going to eat you alive.”

I can hear him gulp.

“Seven,” I say as there’s another bump, rattling the car. “Best guess - racoon.”

He turns over the seat, looking as we speed past. “Close,” he says, the tremble in his voice smoothed. “Possum.”

“Interesting. They’re not usually on the road this time of year.” My phone is buzzing in my pocket. I know what it’s saying. 

u here yet? 

wednesdayyy

please please please pleaaaasee

ughh im so boreedddd bestiee

Ajax doesnt get here till wednesday and everyone is literally only sitting by their parents

wednesdayy

:’(((

the new principal looks so wacky loll

“Oh, Wednesday,” sighs my mother, twining her inky hair around her finger. Her eyes are doing that droopy thing. Like a begging puppy. “Promise you’ll take care of our sweet Pugsley?”

“If you recall, taking care of him is what sent me here in the first place,” I reply, keeping my hands folded in my lap. Nevermore looms in my mind. The damp smell of cobblestone. The questions that linger like dust on books. 

“Ah, yes,” hums my father, looking adoringly into my mothers eyes. “Our little protector.”

This is all feeling very familiar.

As we get out of the car, the fall leaves crunch beneath our feet. I suppose this year might be different, seeing as I actually get to start at the beginning. 

“Wednesday!”

Fuck.

I am tackled. 

Sorry, I am “hugged”.

By the brightest, furriest, strawberry-pink being I have the pleasure of knowing. She’s wearing the shawl with all the knitted fruits on it, and I feel a felted lime scratching my cheek as she squeezes. 

“Omigosh you’re finally here! I’ve been waiting for like hours and one can only eat so many of the complimentary pretzels. There’s so many new students, do you see them all? I’m pretty sure we’ve got the same room though because I asked around and nobody’s moved so far and like everyone in Macbeth got to put their stuff away earlier so I think that we’re roomies again! Isn’t that amazing!” she squeals.

I pull her away from me, look her steadily in the eyes. 

I watch her smile fade. 

“I missed you too, Enid,” I mutter curtly as I turn away, and the gleam is back in her eyes.

“In here!” calls a teacher, ushering us towards the gate. 

“Wednesday!” My head snaps to the left as I feel a familiar hand clasp mine. “Don’t talk to anyone,” I remind Pugsley as he clings to my side. We fall in line with the students and parents trickling into the courtyard. “You never know who people are here. If you want to eat the snacks, make sure it’s actually real and not the plastic stuff they put in the middle.”

“What if someone tries to be… nice… to me?” he squeaks.

“Bite.”

He nods.

“Is that your little brother?” Enid whispers to me, louder than most people’s shouting.

“Enid,” I say by way of introduction as we pass through the gates. “This is Pugsley. Pugsley, Enid. The biting thing does not apply to Enid, Pugs. Her niceness is tolerable.”

Enid glows with the compliment. “Pugsley,” she croons. “What an adorable name!”

I’m not watching him, but I know when my little brother starts to frown.

“He’s fourteen,” I remind her curtly. “I know he looks like he should still sleep in a crib, but try not to treat him like a baby.”

She winces. “Right. Sorry, dude.”

He shrugs. Then, his eyes light up. “Oh, wow! You weren’t kidding about the snacks!”

“Here,” Enid says excitedly, snatching his hand from my grasp. “I’ll show you the pretzels. They’re actually kinda good.”

And suddenly they disappear, my brother’s suit blending into the sea of parents, and Enid’s bright colors hidden behind tables and pillars.

I feel a cold hand on my shoulder. “Ohh,” sighs my mother. “I suppose we should find a table to sit at… gosh, your first orientation day. Gomez, do you remember…”

“Yes, mi amor,” he sighs, his hand dropping onto my other shoulder. I keep my vision straight ahead, because I know their mouths are like this close together above my head. “I remember so well. So very very well…”

“That’s rather enough of that,” I say roughly, plucking their hands off my shoulders. 

“Wait!” calls my mother as I march towards the stairs up to the balcony. “We’ll see you for goodbye, right? I don’t want to keep you from your friends, honey, but…”

“I will,” I say, stopping to turn for a moment. “Provided the goodbye is less than six minutes long.”

My father pouts. “Eight?” he says hopefully.

My brow lowers. “Five.”

The balcony has overgrown with ivy. There’s a little alcove I sit in as I watch the people mill around.

My phone buzzes.

Xavier: I’m going to be late. The storm is crazy on the mountains idk how bad it is for you up there

I look up at the sky, squinting. There’s a bit of a haze around the lake, streaks of rain far in the sky, and the clouds are a dusty sort of purple, but other than that there’s nothing too bad.

I shrug.

Wednesday: Okay.

And as I look down again, at all the milling people and the awkwardly standing teachers, I see…

Her.

Red hair like a rat’s nest, all curls and grease and wet strands. She’s leaning against the olive tree on the far right, near one of the alcoves that leads out into the sides of the castle. She’s got on a red and blue jacket with the most ridiculous amount of zippers I’ve ever seen. She’s built like a twig, like a fencer, a lean candy-cane of a person.

And she’s looking right at me.

Right then, I shiver. I remember those photos. The stalker.

She cocks an eyebrow and gestures with her head to the alcove by her hip. Pivots on a heel and disappears into the shadow.

I lick my lips, glance at the empty stage, and decide might as well. I never could resist a little danger. 

“Light?” she says, offering out a cigarette. Water drips off the ivy and filters through the leaves. The world is turquoise back here, in the little hallway between the garden and the courtyard. Crowded with plants and quiet. 

“No thank you,” I say, and she shrugs. She lights her own cigarette and the smoke filters through the shade. 

“Boring, right? This whole thing. They’re just repeating all the stuff they say in the pamphlet.” She took a lavender piece of paper out of her pocket, waving it around a little.

“Do I know you?” I ask.

Her eyes flick over to mine. Blue. Her nose looks like it’s been broken, and her face is dotted with dark freckles. The curve of her mouth is cruel. “Not yet.”

“Do you know me?” 

“Not yet.”

I stare at her as she takes another drag. “It is boring,” I admit.

She snorts, rubbing her peach-red nose with the back of her hand. “Incredibly.”

“Impossibly,” I agree.

“Indubitably.”

“Increasingly.”

She thinks for a moment, licking her lower lip. “Unendingly? No, that’s… dammit. I’ve got nothing.” She sticks out her hand to shake. “Fairly won, wordsmith.”

I shake her hand, nearly, almost smiling.

And she hooks her thumb in mine and pulls me close. “Reagan,” she says, eyes twinkling as my feet stumble a little. 

“Wednesday,” I say, refusing to admit my heart has tripped a little. Because that would be ridiculous, that a cheap trick would startle me so suddenly. But we are very close, very very close. My boot is in between her converse, and I’m pretty sure I’m stepping on one of the laces. She smells like salt.

“Nice to meet you, Wednesday,” she whispers, and I detect just a hint of a southern accent.

I swallow, pull back, but my hand is still hooked in hers. “What–”

“Wednesday!”

I’m getting really tired of hearing my own name.

It turns out the whole event has started, and my parents want me to sit quietly and listen as a slim man makes his way to the stage - dressed in white, like Weems. Part of me knows it’s some school tradition, but the other half notes the sly, almost casual smirk dancing on his face and I think it might be to mock her. 

Like wearing a wedding dress to a funeral. 

“Hello, hello,” he says, waving a hand high above his head. His fingers look like they’re made of matchsticks. 

I turn, catching Reagan’s gaze as she saunters to the back, tapping her cigarette out on the damp walls. Rain hangs in the air, and as my eyes track her through my peripheral vision I can’t help but note the fog.

Everything feels heavy. Weighted.

“My name is Thaddeus Croon, though I expect you’ll all be calling me Headmaster Croon,” he laughs, like he’d said something funny. His face is long and clean-shaven, he’s got clear laugh lines but no wrinkles around his eyes. He looks fake somehow, like a statue. “Though this might be my first year here, I can assure you I have plenty of experience. Three years at Rowaker’s Detention School for Unbecoming Boys taught me much, and no, I wasn’t there as a student.”

Now that seems to be an actual joke, which, to my dismay, elicits a laugh from my parents. 

“I did go to Nevermore, it’s true,” Headmaster Croon acknowledges, flashing a pearly white smile. I can almost see the backs of his molars, how far that smile stretches. “Class of ‘72!”

I frown. He doesn’t look that old. No more than 30.

“And I can see some of the same old cliques,” he sighs fondly. “The Stoners, hey, some of my best friends back in the day. And the sirens! Too cool for me, hey,” he laughs. But then his face draws serious. “Now. I don’t want any infighting this year. I heard that last year was a lot, for all of you. For a few of you in particular.”

I think his eyes flicker to me. But I’m not quite sure.

“So this year there’s going to be some changes. The basement has completed renovation–”

Suddenly, there’s uproarious applause. I see Enid jump up from where she was perched on a table, clapping. I can see the brightness in her face from fifty feet away. It’s like a bonfire. Burning up witches.

Croon holds up a hand, smiling. “I know, I know. Ten-year-long project, I’m told. But that means that Nevermore can officially house up to a hundred and fifty more outcasts!”

More applause. 

“I know, I know. Incredible. And why not, I thought, use this little victory to get rid of some of the silliest restrictions on entry.”

The quiet applause and chattering slows, and I narrow my eyes as I watch our doll-faced headmaster swallow nervously.

“Which is why this year Nevermore is officially welcoming back the magicians.”

“Holy shit.”

“Enid. Why is this so important?” I hiss, grabbing at her coat.

She’s buzzing with excitement, glancing furtively around at the uproarious crowd. Croon was immediately swarmed by outraged parents, and over the noise I can hear him placating their cries. “Okay, so,” she starts, waving her hands. “Like, a really long time ago, I dunno, back in the like steam-engine-Sherlock-Holmes-top-hat time–”

“The late 1800s,” I correct blandly.

“Yes! That. Probably. Back then, when they all had pocket watches and everyone dressed in black and white, there were these outcasts called the magicians. Basically, witches. Or wizards. Spellcasters. Gypsies. Whatever you want to call them.”

I frown. “Spells?”

“Yes. Their powers are basically like, grow things, summon things, or set things on fire or whatever. Nobody really knows - they’ve got their own communities all over the world. See, it’s hereditary but without training people can go their whole lives never finding out. Soo…”

One of my eyebrows raises. “So?”

“Sooo, when they were in the school everyone got super mad because they can pass. Like normies!” 

She’s waving her hands, and there’s a crease between her brows. “So everyone’s really annoyed at that. And then there was this whole crisis because they ganged up on a werewolf and used him for a ritual in Jericho! And like three people were killed and there was no way of knowing which magicians did it because they pass as normies,” she whispered, eyes glittering with the drama of it all. “There’s nothing about them that’s uncontrollable or weird. That’s why everyone hates them.”

I swallow. “Enid… if I were to lose my… without my visions, I’m…”

She waves a hand. “You’re homicidal,” she scoffs dismissively. “And enough of a freak they’d let you in anyhow.”

Aww. I think I’m blushing.

“But anyway!” she squeals, holding my shoulders as she jumps. “This is totally freaky and I’m living for it!”

Before I can speak, a hand claps on my shoulder. 

“Xavier!” Enid squeals, and she tackles him with a hug. “Omigosh, you’re late! You missed so much!”

Xavier chuckles, hands raised above where Enid is crushing his midsection. He looks up at me with laughter dancing in his eyes, patting Enid’s back with one hand as he looks me over. “The rain,” he explains, and almost on cue a clap of thunder resounds in the air.

The crowd quiets, then gets louder, murmuring. 

Croon stands on the stage, cupping his hands. “Alright!” he shouts, gesturing to the entrance. “Guess it’s time to say your goodbyes! Students, come get your packets from the front office before you go to the cafeteria - they’ve got your room assignments! Luggage goes to the hallway, lovelies, line it up A through Z!”

“Hoohhhmygosh,” says Enid, jittering. “Literally so cold. I’m gonna go see if we got Ophelia. Meet you guys in the cafeteria!”

She leaves.

Xavier and I stare at each other. He’s got on a brownish-red sweater vest and a big jacket, and his art satchel is slung over one shoulder. He’s cut his hair. “So,” he says, scuffing at the floor with one heel. 

“We should get our luggage,” I say, turning to go.

“Wait, Wednesday.”

I stop, back turned.

“There’s this thing happening tonight. Sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, sort of forgot. Jackson nabbed me on the way out to tell me. The Nightshades - we’re electing a new leader. Tonight. On the docks.”

That makes me pause. I turn, after a second, hands in fists by my side. “New leader?” I ask. “Bianca’s got one more year left.”

He shakes his head. “She’s not here, Wednesday.”

I frown. 

“Sorry,” he says, frowning too, but it’s an apologetic sort of frown. “I know. Weird, right? She didn’t even say goodbye properly. Listen, just… come out tonight to the dock. It won’t be for long.”

I consider it. 

“Fine.”

As I turn away, for good this time, I wonder if I truly want to go or if something else is pulling me there - the thread of mystery.  

[sukirichi]

— the other side

request:  BRUH YOUR SWIMSUIT SHOPPING WITH JJK IS GOD LEVEL 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫 I think you wrote Gojo perfectly 🥺 Could I pretty please request FaceTime sex with Gojo 🤩 Like maybe Gojo’s away on a mission and he really misses reader and he’s needy so he calls her and has her put the phone down in front of her and tells her what to do 😳

warnings: nsfw, mutual masturbation, facetime sex, dirty talk (+unedited fic)

note: i actually wasn’t sure if i could write this well since i’m not the best at dialogue, but i tried my best and i hope you like it anon! thank you for the request! dinner has been served!

masterlist ! 

Ruined. He’s absolutely ruined you.

You pull your fingers out of your clenching hole, your cheeks sweaty as you pant against your pillow. Hole clenching around nothing at the sudden emptiness, your chest heaves up and down with the gnawing dissatisfaction that you could no longer cum yourself; could no longer feel pleased unless it’s Gojo doing it for you.

Before you know it, a single tear flows down until it collects besides your lips. Hands rubbing against your tired eyes, you sigh at the clock blaring 2:19 AM mockingly at you.

It’s two in the fucking morning – and you haven’t cum ever since Gojo left for work.

Your fingers just wasn’t enough; could never be enough compared to his magical tongue and long dick that absolutely drives you into with so much need, large hands grappling against your soft mounds for leverage while he pounds himself into you.

It’s not the same without him. It’s been four long days ever since Gojo left for work; four torturous days that you’ve done everything you could to get off, only to keep failing after hours of humping your pillow or doing all the work with the cute pink dildo you got just for days he wouldn’t be around. It never ends well. Your wrist would only cramp or your thighs would ache afterwards, but you never came.

Perhaps that’s one of the consequences of being greedy and wanting to keep Gojo Satoru all to yourself. In return, he’s also stolen you of the privilege of fucking yourself.

Arm sprawled over your face, your breathing begins to regulate. Your legs are still wide open, arousal leaking from your disappointed cunt. You were ready, so ready for Gojo to come home and just fuck you silly.

You hate yourself for being this way, hate that your lips are trembling because you miss him so much and you’re actually crying all because you feel so empty without him buried within you.

It’s stupid, so fucking stupid, but you can’t help it.

You turn around to your side and hug his pillow closer to your body, breathing in his scent. It helps to calm you down a bit and even reassures you you’re not really alone; he’d come back in a few days and you’ll have him all to yourself again.

It’s been a long day, and the days just keep stretching over with the fact you’ve pretty much masturbated everywhere but still never got to come. A wave of exhaustion washes over you, your eyelids growing heavy at the same time you wrap one leg around Gojo’s pillow. His musky scent still remains, almost mocking that he’s never really away from you, but the dull aching deep within your pussy says otherwise.

You’re so helpless without him.

Just as you’re about to gaze off into to dreamland, your phone blares from your bedside table. You don’t waste another second before scrambling off the bed to get it, nearly falling off if you hadn’t grasped on to the sheets hard enough.

Gojo’s contact name of baby with a heart emoji flashes on the screen. Out of reflex, your entire body responds. Palms sweaty, lips puckered, pussy fluttering and nipples peaking – it’s embarrassing how your body reacts to him strongly. If he was here and he saw the way you open yourself up to him, Gojo would laugh while knuckle deep in you, teasing that you’re so eager for him and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

You quickly swipe right to answer, the grin on your face large and beaming when his handsome face greets you. “Satoru,” you smile, leaning back on the pillows to make yourself comfortable. “I missed you.”

There’s no lie about that. He’s still so handsome with one arm propped underneath him, hair down in messy strands and his eyes free from the blindfold, allowing you to witness the magic that pooled within that beauty. Satoru is now wearing a plain white shirt in exchange of his usual dark uniform, his bicep flexing under his weight, but you’re more focused on how his eyes crinkle once he finally saw your pretty face.

You could tell he misses you just the same.

“Hey, baby,” he coos through the call, and his low, husky voice immediately sends chill down your spine. The cold air bites at your exposed cunt and you shudder; you already know you’re wet again. It’s still ‘yesterday’ where he’s at, meaning that he’d have to leave for work after three hours or so as the sun begins to rise, while you’d still be slumbering at peace.

Or at least, sleep as comfortably as you could with countless failed orgasms.

“I missed you too,” Satoru sighs. His eyes droop for a moment, and he sees the way you open your lips, ready to tell him to get some more rest instead of calling you. Satoru only presses a finger to his lips, eyes glinting playfully at your awaiting gaze. “I’m fine, baby, don’t worry about me. I just needed to hear your voice.”

Your heart skips a beat at that. You’ve always known that Satoru is flirty, and even though he isn’t exactly being too flirty right now, the mere thought of him wanting to hear your voice before he sleeps does wondrous leaps to your wavering heart.

“Me too,” you confess in a small voice, tugging up the sheets under the chin as you grow more and more shy with each passing second. “It hasn’t been the same without you, Toru. I can’t…I can’t be myself when you’re not here.”

Satoru, despite being an absolute dumb fuck all the time, isn’t stupid when it comes to that tone of your voice. He nods once and presses the phone closer to his face, voice low and serious. “What’s wrong, baby? Do you want to talk to me about it?”

Yes and no. You seriously debate whether it’s best to tell him that you can’t cum without him, simply because he’s always so much better and feels perfect compared to your nimble fingers that barely even stretch you. On the other side, you don’t want to keep him up too late, plus phone sex… well, you haven’t really done it before. Just imagining showing yourself bare to Satoru through the camera already makes your body feel warmer than it already it is. He’s seen you naked hundred of times before, but the idea that he could record it…

You swallow audibly and look away from him. Your cunt is already gushing as you imagine Satoru recording the way you lose yourself as he buries his cock into your hilt, but it’s a different thing if you could both masturbate to the thought of each other.

“Babe,” Satoru cuts off your train of thoughts, “You feel frustrated too, don’t you? I’ve never hated my fist as much as I do now.”

Your head snaps to his direction so fast Satoru laughs at your crazed reaction, and the sound only increases when you start babbling to him. “Y-you,” you shake your head in disbelief, “You too? You can’t cum too? I mean, I’ve done everything I could, I even got a dildo but it’s not enough, Toru, it’s never enough, I need you so bad.”

You don’t care that you’re whining at this point. Satoru doesn’t give a damn either because he’s already palming his erection through his sweatpants from the other side of the world, jaw clenching as he imagines you doing lewd things without him.

“Aw, my poor baby,” he teases you, making you pout and hide under the sheets with only your eyes peeking through. “It’s okay, I’ve got you now,” his voice drops an octave lower, eyes darkening as lust consumes both your body. “Just be a good girl and follow my instructions, okay? I’ll make you feel good. We’ll make each other feel good. It’ll feel like I never left, okay?”

“O-okay,” you nod shakily, still unsure of what to do. “Is there-?”

“Yeah,” Satoru grunts as he whips his cock free from his confines, hips jutting forward now that his hand is wrapped around it. He sighs at the relief of finally getting his chance to cum. He understands your situation; his cock won’t even come close to the warmth of your tight pussy clenching on him. “Show me yourself, pretty girl. Show me those pretty pink lips of yours,” Satoru places his phone somewhere on the table near his bed, pushing his sweatpants down until his cock slaps against his underbelly, the tip red and leaking.

You gasp at how lewd he looks. The sheets are absolutely crumpled beneath him, and you clench your thighs at the sight of Satoru wrapping his hands around his large, angry cock with his eyes staring straight directly at the camera.

“Come on, baby, don’t be shy,” he rasps, “I want to see you, want to hear you. You’ll let me hear those beautiful moans, won’t you?”

When his hups jut forward to meet the tight grip of his hands, something inside you snaps. Breath shaky and legs trembling, you throw your sheets off to the side and get your phone stand before setting it up at your bedside table, making sure to tilt the camera downwards before you lean back onto the bed. You’re already naked underneath Satoru’s large shirt, and it doesn’t take much as you spread your legs eagerly for him, using two lips to spread your lips open even without his command.

Satoru groans at your arousal leaking down the sheets and making a mess. He pumps himself harder, smirking at how your heavy breathing is all he could hear. “So fucking pretty,” he praises, “Now put two fingers in your pussy for me, baby girl. Stretch yourself open so I can see how much you miss my cock.”

Obedient as ever, you do as you’re told, letting out a shuddered moan when your two fingers go past your walls without resistance. You’re wet, so fucking wet for him, but you want him. “Satoru,” you whine, pushing your fingers deeper and deeper and pulling them out for friction. Your walls clench around your digits and you start imagining that it’s his long fingers buried into you this time; getting off to his image and relishing in how Satoru is moaning your name. “Miss you baby,” you cry out, hands trailing up to squeeze your nipples. “I want you so bad.”

“Me too, baby, me too,” the sound of Satoru’s slick running up and down his shaft, along with his low groans, are like music to your ears. Your moan grows louder when you open your eyes and see that his muscles are flexing as he fucks his hand eagerly, his gaze focused on the way you’re shuddering around your own digits. “Another one. Add another one.”

Shakily, you add another one, your head falling back at the welcomed intrusion. It’s still not enough, but it’ll do for now.

You just imagine that it’s his cock inside you instead, each vein prominent as the ridges of your wall hug him completely. Satoru replaces his hand with your pussy as well, that the fist running down his dick is you bouncing on his cock instead. He can already picture the way your breasts bounce in front of him and Satoru shudders, “Tits,” he growls, “I want to see your fucking tits. Want to feel them on my hands,” Satoru chuckles at how eagerly you lift your shirt up to show him the beaded nipples, teeth biting down on the material with your hands still knuckle-deep in your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re always so pretty, babe.”

“Miss you,” you keep crying out, words muffled through the shirt you’re biting. You pinch your nipple at the same time you rapidly finger yourself, your pussy squelching and the sounds pornographic as it echoes all the way to Satoru’s phone. You miss him so fucking much that it’s unreal. There’s no more self control when your back hits the bed, hips lifting off the bed and giving Satoru a clearer view of your juices dripping down your ass.

Satoru can’t resist the way his balls tighten, desperate to have you right next to him so he can fuck your brains out already. He wishes he could come home and be in your warmth, be in your embrace, but he’s still got curses to kill that fucking you would just have to wait much to both parties’ displeasure.

Sweat is beading down his forehead as he watches you thrash around your bed, his cock only growing harder and a low growl emanating from his throat when you keep moaning satoru, satoru, satoru, I love you so fucking much.

“I love you too,” he manages to say in shaky breaths. “You’re so perfect for me – fuck.”

You push yourself off the edge by pulling your lips aside and pinch at your clit. At that, your back arches off the bed, making your fingers dig deeper into you and for a split second, you manage to hit your g-spot. Satoru can tell you’re close by the way your legs spasm and he encourages you, spitting down his cock as he pumps his fist around his length almost angrily.

“That’s good, baby, keep going, keep going,” his teeth clenches when you nod, tears falling down your pretty cheeks. “Want to fuck you so good – I’d have you screaming around my neck while I take you from behind and shove your face down the pillow,” you moan in response, the sound high pitched and almost whiny. Satoru chuckles before he cuts himself off with a hiss, his balls tightening and his cock throbbing already. “Yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You want me to fuck your ass when I get home?”

“Yes, yes, please,” your belly tightens at the thought of Satoru stretching your tight hole, even better if he pulls at your hair while his hips slam at the flesh of your ass.

Rubbing your clit fervently, Satoru’s name comes out as a broken cry as your orgasm chokes you. The tears are staining your cheeks the same way your cum is making a mess on the sheets, and you grind down harder on the sheets, scissoring yourself just to extend your orgasm.

“Satoru,” you whine, “Fuckkk.”

“I’m close, baby, I’m-” Satoru falls forward when his cock shoots out thick ropes of cum, some of them landing on his abdomen and one sticks to his chin. Your pupils blow wide with lust as you shudder around your fingers while riding down your high, in disbelief that Satoru is cumming so much.

He’s shameless as he continues thrusting into his fists. You’re worried he would overuse his strength and beat his cock to death, but Satoru only chuckles as he keeps pumping his cock, his cum overflowing and pooling down his thick thighs.

“Shit,” he mumbles to himself, falling in the same state as you when he drops down on the bed. His dick begins to turn limp but it’s still twitching, turning a dark shade of pink as he beats his dick almost lazily the time. The both of you take a moment to breathe at the orgasm; not as mind blowing as the ones you’d get if he was there rutting into you instead, but because he’s there, you’re still left with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Wiping the arousal left on your hands on your shirt, you grab your phone and fall into your pillows, cheeks squished and eyelashes fluttering slowly. “Toru,” you call out softly, “You asleep?”

“I want to come home already,” is all he says. He’s still half-passed out in his bed and you laugh, rubbing your thighs together and grimacing when it starts to stick together from your cum. Glancing at Satoru’s form, you dash to the bath to clean yourself up by washing away the cum, coming back to see that Satoru was also in the middle of cleaning his cum with napkins.

“Facetime sex,” he laughs to himself with a shake of his head, mirroring your form by langind on his pillows. He looks absolutely adorable with his lips puckered out like that, azure blue eyes drooping close. “I miss you, babe. I promise when I come home I’m going to fuck you endless.”

You chuckle at his words, wondering how he’s able to say such suggestive things when he’s seconds away from passing out due to exhaustion. Your eyelids grow heavy as well, and along with the light blanket of satisfaction and post-orgasm bliss, the only thing that wouldn’t make this a good night of sleep is the fact Satoru isn’t next to you. Nevertheless, you’re grateful that Satoru took the time to call you despite his busy schedule.

Your heart flutters when Satoru lazily calls you baby, mumbling on and on about how much he misses you. Now that he’s come down from his high, he’s reverting into his big baby self.

His eyes are closed and he’s burying himself deeper into his pillows. You’re about to say goodbye when Satoru lightly snores from the other line, a smile tugging at your lips when you see that he’s now blissfully asleep. Wishing that you could run your hands through his hair, at least, you kiss the screen in the hopes it’d reach him at least metaphorically.

“Sleep well, my love,” you whisper before swiping left to end the call.

Even through the other end of the line, on the other side of the world, Satoru’s worries and exhaustion are washed away with the love you send him.

[shurisneakers]

harmless (iv)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, guns, mention of war, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: good evening i’ve never been to any of the places i mention in this series so dont come @ me

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them 

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He spends the weekend doing nothing. It’s supposed to be relaxing. He finds it nauseatingly boring.

“No mini mission this week?” Steve asks him from across the couch. 

They’re supposed to be catching up on Star Wars but two prequels in and Bucky could feel himself lose his sanity. Anyone could present him with a random assortment of alphabets, call it a Star Wars species and he would have no reason not to believe them.

It’s not like he doesn’t like space. It’s just that he’s had enough of it and everything and everyone who came from it for the foreseeable future.

“No. Someone else is taking care of it.”

“Didn’t you volunteer for this?”

“I pulled myself out of the case.”

“I thought you were having fun.” 

Bucky’s head slowly turns to look at him. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Steve shrugged. “Looked like you were.”

Well, he wasn’t. He likes it here at home, glued to the TV. Popcorn beside him, sweatpants on. Refreshing, calming, slow, mundane, and Jesus Christ, so fucking boring-

His spiralling is interrupted by the dinging of the elevator to the common floor. No one was allowed up there unless it was extremely urgent. Guests were barely allowed into the Tower as it was. 

It reveals the receptionist from downstairs, Marie. She’s always a little reserved, a little shy. But Bucky had seen her chew and spit out trespassers or anyone who dared to get on her nerve. He adores her.

“Hey, Marie,” Steve says while Bucky sends her a friendly wave in greeting. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a hostage situation downtown,” she informs them. 

“Okay...” Steve drawls, waiting for a reason why this was an Avengers level threat.

“They’ve asked for Mr. Barnes by name.” She makes a mention towards him.

Bucky sits up straight. Bits of popcorn fall off his chest. 

“What?”

“They said, and I quote-” she looks down at her notepad. “‘Tell that grumpy motherfucker that I’m waiting for him and that he’s not getting out of this so easily because we have come too far.’ End quote. They’ve also told me to include a kissing emoji. And a skull.”

Steve and he look at each other.

“Well?” Steve prods. 

Bucky sighs and gets up to go get ready.

The entrance of Chuck E. Cheese is more crowded than he’d ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he’d seen people in the store before. If there were, they probably only came up till his waist. 

There are a few journalists, a few policemen standing together outside. Whispers of confusion and curiosity reigned free. 

Bucky gently pushes his way to the front. He gets a nod from a police officer who opens the door for him after a quick briefing. 

The place is darker than it usually would be. A trademark, it seemed. The blinds are drawn shut and most of the light is coming through whatever sneaks in through the crack. 

“Hey, Barnes.” Your voice is muffled by a mask that looks suspiciously like it was made out of classroom craft supplies.

There’s a person in a loose chokehold in your hand with a gun pressed against his head. Once again it looks straight out of a cartoon, purple with round disks lining its barrel. 

“What’s all this now?” He gestures around monotonously. 

“A hostage situation. Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Got that part down, genius,” he bites back. “But why?”

“Fucker kept harassing me when I was walkin’ down the street.” 

The guy’s helpless gaze met Bucky. 

“Catcalling me, stalking me.” You tighten the grip you have on him. “Call me darlin’ one more time, you son of a bitch. I dare you.”

He wasn’t impressed with his pleading eyes. He kinda felt like he deserved it. 

“Why’d you do it here?” The bright colours were starting to give him a heading. “And where are the staff?”

“It’s symbolic, Bucky,” you emphasise, “He deserves to be among other rat bastards.”

Of course.

“The staff?” he asks again. 

“Gave them thirty bucks and told them to leave. I’m not a monster.”

“Right.” He doesn’t bother refuting you. “Why’d you call me here?”

“Dunno.” You shrug. “Thought it’d be fun. You having fun yet?”

You shake the guy you’re holding. He gives a small whimper. 

Bucky doesn’t want to stop you. He had chugged enough Respect Juice in his lifetime to know that this guy probably deserved a threat or two.

Hell, he’d even help but you were more than capable of handling this on your own.

“Listen,” he sighed. “As much as I’m sure he deserves it, this is technically illegal and I’m required to stop you.”

“Sorry sarge, I thought you weren’t interested in playing this stupid game with me,” you mock, voice dropping to imitate him.

“I’m not.” It wasn’t entirely true. One Saturday with Jar Jar Binks had convinced him otherwise.

“Okay, so before you leave, do me a favour and call Hawkeye. I hear he looks mighty fine when he’s annoyed.”

His face involuntarily scrunched up. You were going to replace him with Clint? Clint?

He probably took it more as an insult than he should have.

“I’m not doing that.” Bless his foul mouthed friend, but he was a little shit who was too sarcastic for his own good. At least twice a week he’d say something stupid to Bucky and then take out his hearing aids when he tried to argue back. 

“You’re leavin’ me with no options here,” you groaned, using your thumb to flip a switch. The gun looks like it powered up, lights along the side turning red.

If he let you have this, it’d be a bad look for the Avengers.

New York man dies in Chuck E. Cheese lone hostage situation, unable to be saved by same superhero who tried to fight Thanos with a machine gun.

“Tell ya what,” he says instead, “If you kill him, there won’t even be a slight chance that you’ll see me again.”

Your grip on the gun falters.

“If I let him go...”

“I might consider coming back next week.” He’s trying to spin it, make it look like he’s the one with the upper hand here. “But you gotta let him go.”

You search his face for any signs of dishonesty.

“Let him go or you’ll never see me again.” It sounds too much like Clint’s arguments with his dog who brought a live squirrel into the house. 

“Fine,” you relent, a glint in your eye. “but say goodbye to this fuckface.”

Before Bucky can open his mouth to shout in protest, you pull the trigger. The man clenches his eyes shut, face red.

He expects blood to be splatter across his face.

Nothing happens.

A barrage of bubbles floats into the room.

“I meant it literally,” you say, pushing him off you. “Say goodbye. He’s leaving.”

The man stumbles to the ground and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to catch him. He scrambles to his knees, picking himself up and scurrying out the door to a hoard of reporters.

The door shuts behind him with the chime of a bell.

“You’re annoying,” Bucky states, giving a small sigh.

“I’m well aware of that.” You pull off the mask, wiping the sweat off your brow.

“Where is the agent assigned to your case?” 

“Dunno. Last I saw he was crying on the driveway of my lair. I just figured he’d pick himself up later so I left him there.”

Bucky’s nose twitches. 

“You weren’t actually going to kill him, were you.” He shrugs with his shoulder towards the door. It wasn’t a question, more a statement. He knew you wouldn’t. 

“I could have.”

“But you weren’t going to,” he repeats. 

“No,” you admit. “I wasn’t. But I’m glad to see you showed up.”

“You held someone hostage as leverage.”

“No, no. I held someone hostage and then asked to see you. They were completely unrelated.”

“You’re evil.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you point out. “Would you like a trampoline next time? Maybe a pogo stick, you clown?”

He has a very real gun in his holster. His very real metal death arm aches to use it. 

“No one else agreed to come,” he deflects. 

“We both know that’s a lie. You were going to come back anyway.” You stuff the bubble gun back into the bag. “I’m deliciously irresistible.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Then beg.” You give him a smirk and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, you win this round, sarge.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches you remove your heist gear, revealing normal civilian clothes underneath.

You walk casually to the kitchen, intending to leave through the back door.

“But I can’t say I lost either.” You send him a wink before swiftly pushing open the door and leaving him behind.

He only watches you leave.

It doesn’t hit him until a few seconds later that he let a criminal out of his hands when there were several policemen and journalists outside.

He entertains the idea of chasing you down and handing you over. 

It takes him only a few seconds to decide that if they wanted you, they’d have to try themselves.

Next part 

[yslkook]

IF I GOT YOU (7)

mind of mine masterlist

summary: one month later...and things start to come to a head. you feel more at peace than you've ever felt, but as usual, what remains peaceful is always interrupted.

pairing: “badboy” jk x “shy/reserved” oc

warnings: cursing, alc, excessive use of pet names, HELLA HELLA toxic friendship and dynamics, suggestive content (hooking up and other mentions)

word count: 4066

a/n: if you want to be tagged, send an ask plz. would love to hear your thoughts

Despite a month going by from the last time you spoke to Jungkook in the park and put all of your feelings out in the open, spring air, you feel lighter than ever. Maybe most of that has to do with the simple fact that you’ve finally cut out a toxic, deadweight from your life. Regardless of what ends up happening with you and Jungkook as friends or more than that, at least you are at peace and happy with being yourself.

Besides, it’s not like you don’t ever see him. You see him when you visit the tattoo parlor (but you haven’t allowed yourself to be alone with him and he hasn’t initiated), you’ve seen him at impromptu nights out, at Yoongi’s apartment. Neither of you allow yourself to be alone with each other, since you had both agreed to wait. Even your text message thread with him is dry, though.

You miss him, hoping that a notification of his name with the bunny emoji attached to it flashes across the screen. But it doesn’t.

For all of his bravado, he feels somewhat shy around you on the few occasions that he’s seen you. Jungkook will go out of his way to avoid you, hiding (as much as he can) behind Mina and Mei.

He misses you. Jungkook misses the feel of your lips molding against his, the way you felt in his arms, but most of all he misses your shy smile and your loud laugh. He misses the way your eyes shine when you speak about something you’re passionate about.

Mina had said you were both being stupid, taking time away from each other when you both are denying the inevitable. But it made sense in your mind and his. You want to know what kind of person you were without the burden of Sora’s judgment weighing heavily in every frame of your life. You take the time you need to take to recenter yourself and feel somewhat whole again.

It doesn’t take you long to adjust to life without a former best friend. You quickly begin to notice how different you feel, how differently you approach basic things that you hadn’t really put much thought to before.

It feels so refreshing to not feel like you’re walking in some metaphorical shadow of someone who didn’t really care about you. Well, you think on some level, she did care. But along with the insignificant way she made you feel, it’s not enough to justify it. And you’re really grateful that you don’t need to anymore.

In fact, you’ve already deleted most pictures with her on your social medias. You haven’t quite been able to block her yet, but you think you’ll be ready to do that soon enough.

The ever elusive notion of time really does seem to heal nearly all forms of hurt.

“So,” Yoongi starts, sitting next to you on his new black leather couch and handing you a glass of red wine.

“Don’t start with me,” You say, poking his shoulder.

“I’m not starting anything with you,” Yoongi shrugs, but his eyes twinkle.

“Oh? That’s the voice you use when you have gossip or when you’re about to interrogate me,” You mutter, rolling your eyes with a fond smile.

“Maybe it’s a little of both,” Hobi chimes in, sitting on your other side. He leans back and drapes his legs over your lap, to which you instantly rest your hands over his legs.

“How lucky for me,” You mumble, taking a long swig of your wine. You’ll need it.

“How’s that witch doing,” Yoongi asks bluntly.

“I don’t know, I told you I cut her off and kicked her out of my house like a month ago,” You reply, “Did you forget already?”

“No, I just like hearing that you finally came to your fucking senses,” Yoongi says, “She was awful, but I’ll commend you for sticking it out for this long. Cheers, the witch is finally gone-”

“I believe the phrase is, ‘ding dong, the witch is dead’, but this will suffice,” Hobi says and yelps when you swat his shoulder.

“Don’t be rude,” You say, “But… thank you for helping me see the light. Even if it took a while. And I’m sorry it affected our friendship, too.”

“Ah, well, we’re all here now,” Hobi says, pulling you in for a side hug.

“Yeah. So cheers,” Yoongi says again, raising his glass to you both, “Cheers to you for choosing yourself. And to new beginnings.”

“You’ll make me cry,” You say honestly, offering your friends a watery smile.

“As if we’ve never seen you cry before,” Hobi scoffs. And it’s true- they are two of your oldest friends, and even if you’ve come to the realization that maybe you hadn’t been the greatest friend to them… That bond is hard to sever, and you’re grateful that they’ve always had your back.

“Drink up,” You say with a smile, “Cheers to new beginnings.”

Yoongi has always been a little sly, unassuming but always with several tricks up his sleeve. When he so desires to cause a little mischief and stir the pot a little. And Hobi is all too happy to engage.

Which is how you end up several glasses of red wine and rose deep (yes, you mixed, rookie mistake but who cares. You’re in the presence of some of your greatest friends, after all).

And then Yoongi goes in for the kill.

“How’s our Jungkookie,” He asks, without missing a beat. You choke on your wine and wince when it somehow gets lodged in your nose.

“I don’t know. Think he’s good,” You finally respond, your words sounding slurred, “Ask Hobi. They work together, if you didn’t know.”

“Oh, thanks for the information. I had no idea.”

“Happy to be of service,” You say, leaning into Hobi's side, “Ikindofmisshim.”

“What was that? Didn’t quite catch that,” Yoongi says, a self-satisfied smirk blooming on his lips. He heard you, of course he did, but you don’t seem to pick up on it.

“I said I kind of miss him,” You reply, a dreamy look in your eyes, “Do you think he misses me, too?”

Hobi chokes back a laugh but you hear it and offer him a glare. “Don’t make fun of me!”

“Nobody’s making fun of you, stupid,” Yoongi says poking your forehead, “And yeah. Your man doesn’t shut up about you. Always with those eyes around you.”

“He’s not my man,” You whine pathetically.

“Yeah, that’s a mystery to both of us,” Hobi says, “How long are you both gonna keep this up?”

“Keep what up?”

“This weird awkward dance you both do around each other. Avoiding each other when we’re all together. It’s kinda funny, like we all know you both wanna fuck so bad-”

“Shut up! That’s- that’s not- shut up!”

Yoongi and Hoseok both burst into laughter, drunken giggles loud in the living room and you can’t help but laugh with them.

Clubs were never your most favorite place to unwind, but you make an exception for tonight. For Mina and Mei, you’ll make an exception. The three of you had gotten ready together in Mei’s home, in between sips of cocktails that she had poured out. Mina had done your makeup for you, giving you the sharpest eyeliner you’ve ever seen on your eyelids as well as a bold red lipstick.

It’s not a club night if there is no red lipstick involved, after all.

Your makeup usually looks good when you apply it yourself, but Mina has a genuine eye and skill for makeup artistry. You recall her telling you that she’d always dreamed of going to beauty school but hadn’t pursued it. You had told her that it’s never too late to fulfill a dream and she had only smiled at you.

“Hey,” You say, “Is Jimin coming tonight? How’d your date last week go?”

“It was really good,” Mina says, something sweet in her voice, “He made me dinner and dessert. And then I sucked his soul from his cock an hour later and he even made me squirt. And yeah, he’s coming tonight to the club. We’ll see what happens...”

“Wow,” You nod, listening with wide eyes, “That sounds amazing. I’m really happy things are going well for you both. Including the horny stuff.”

“The horny stuff?” Mei laughs, “You’re cute.”

“Shut up,” You say, playfully shoving her shoulder, “It’s no joking matter that he made you squirt.”

“Yeah, I high fived him after,” Mina says slyly, “It was… a night. Can’t wait to have another night like that. But I’m gonna make him work for it tonight.”

“As you should,” You nod solemnly, “What about you Mei? Are we drinking until we blackout or are you playing hard to get with Seulgi?”

“Who says we can’t do both?” Comes Mei’s muffled response.

“Cheers to that,” You reply, “Are… Jimin’s roommates coming?”

“You think you’re slick, huh?” Mina snorts, “You wondering about Jungkook?”

“N-no, I haven’t seen Taehyung in a while either-”

“Tae’s coming, but Jungkook isn’t. Something about having a long week and wanting to chill at home.”

“Oh, gotcha,” You say, cheeks ablaze as you avoid her eyes. Unable to hold the slight sting of disappointment from your voice.

Mina and Mei see right through it but they say nothing, only handing you a refill of your now empty glass.

Despite the relatively steady stream of drinks in your hand (an illusion, really, you’ve been nursing the same two drinks all night), you’re almost completely sober. In fact, you’re more tired than anything else. It seems that Jungkook had the right idea to stay home tonight. You’re rather benignly jealous of his decision.

You enjoy dancing and singing with your friends, feeling the thrum and excitement of music and your close companions bursting through your veins.But environments like this overwhelm you sometimes. All of the flashing lights, sometimes smoke and all of the people… Tonight seems to be one of those nights.

“Wanna dance?” Comes a rich, velvety voice behind you to the right. It’s Taehyung, and you’d rather dance with Taehyung than anyone else in this club. With the exception being Jungkook, but he’s not here right now.

“Okay,” You nod, taking his hand when he offers it to you. Your thoughts flit to Jungkook briefly.

Taehyung is good company, always keeping you with a smile on your face and filling you up with laughter. He keeps you close with easy, gentle movements as you both belt out the words to whatever song is playing on the speakers. But Taehyung has always been observant.

“You don’t really wanna be here, huh? I’d take it personally, if I didn’t know you,” Taehyung teases.

“No, it’s not that,” You murmur, “Just have never been a big club goer, that’s all. Jungkook had the right idea in staying home.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung muses, “What are you two doing?”

He’s almost as blunt as Yoongi (who’s also in some corner of the club. Usually, he keeps you company at things like this, but conveniently, he’s nowhere to be found.).

“If I knew I was going to be interrogated in this club, I would’ve drank more,” You say dryly. Taehyung laughs at that and squeezes your shoulder.

“You both deserve to be happy. Just want you to know that.”

“Thanks, Tae,” You say, a grin spreading across your face, “I guess you’re not as sleazy as Mina says you are-”

“Me? Sleazy?” Taehyung gasps, pretending to be affronted. You roll your eyes and offer him your hand.

“Wanna dance?”

Taehyung turns you around and holds your hips tightly in his hands, dancing with you to the beat of the music. It’s nice to be held like this, even if it’s a little dirty.

You don’t notice a pair of sly eyes watching you from across the club.

By the time you excuse yourself to catch a breath and grab some water from the bar, you realize that most of your friends are off doing their own thing. It gives you a second to people watch from the second floor of the curb and lean on the railings, taking in your surroundings. Despite stifling a yawn.

You relish in the cool feel of the icy water flooding your senses, waking you up a little more. You wonder if you can convince Yoongi to take you to get fries or tacos after the night ends. At the thought of tacos, you salivate a little.

But your taco fueled fantasies are broken when a few girls try to push past you to get to the bar. You mumble a soft apology, but it goes unheard. The unmistakable sound of a voice, a voice that you’ve only recently been able to put out of your mind, breaks through the barrier and it makes your heart drop.

It’s an angry call of your name. Your stomach churns, and suddenly you’ve never wanted to learn the art of teleportation more.

Sora, in all her bitter glory, stands in front of you with a full drink in her hands. Beside her are two of her friends, looking resigned and trying to plead with her that they should go.

“Missed me so much that you followed me here, huh?” Sora sneers.

“I’m not even going to entertain that with a response. Or you for that matter,” You say tiredly, trying to step past her.

“All your friends left you. Look at you all alone,” She says and you roll your eyes with a dry laugh.

“I’d rather be alone than have anything to do with you, Sora,” You reply easily, “I’m leaving now-”

But she sidesteps you again, gripping your forearm and looking at you with so much animosity that it makes your skin crawl. Had she always looked at you like that?

“I can’t believe you just dropped me like nothing. After I gave you everything,” Sora says, as if you had said nothing at all. She’s clearly a little drunk, telltale signs of her drunkenness clear on her face. Her words are slurred and she stumbles a little on her feet. You cringe. You don’t want to have this conversation with her whether she’s sober or drunk.

“You treated me like I was nothing,” You snap, “I don’t want to discuss this with you. Now let me go.”

“Or what? There’s nobody here ‘cept you and me, babe,” She says, her lips twisting into a cruel smirk. Her friends have disappeared and warning bells start to go off in your head. She’s right, all of your friends have dispersed. But you manage to fish your phone out of your purse while she rambles to you and send a text to the groupchat, simply stating “pls help, Sora is here”.

Dread seeps into your pores. You just want to be done with her presence.

“Sora, just let me go. Nothing you say will change anything,” You say heatedly, “Fucking let go of me!”

You try to yank your arm out of her grip but her nails are sharp against your skin.

“I loved you, you know that? I fucking gave you everything, you were my best friend,” Sora hisses, “I just wanted to you be happy. To see that I’d do anything for you.”

It takes a minute for the dust to settle but you suddenly begin to understand. “You hurt me! That’s not friendship or l-love, or anything remotely close to it. Nothing you say will change that. I don’t want you around anymore. Take a hint, Sora,” Your voice is cold and deadly, nothing like what Sora is accustomed to.

“Please, let me go,” You beg softly, “Why won’t you let me go?”

Tears spring into your eyes, both from the force she’s holding you with and from how much this is exhausting you.

“What does he have that’s worth all of this?” Sora hisses.

“It doesn’t matter what he has. I like him and I enjoy spending time with him, that’s all that should matter, and I’m not explaining Jungkook to you,” You say coldly, “You lost the right to know a long time ago. If you took your head out of your ass for two seconds, you’d know that this friendship was over months ago.”

By now, both of your voices have raised in volume and pitch, attracting the attention of bystanders. This makes no sense to you, your head is starting to hurt from the implications of her words. You just want to go home. By now, Yoongi has seen your text and is trying to get to the bar to rescue you from Sora.

“He won’t give you what you need,” Sora exclaims.

“Shut up! Just fucking stop talking about him,” You shout, “I’m so fucking sick of this, just leave me the fuck alone. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me anymore, just drop it!”

You feel the need to defend him though, “He’s kind, he has a big heart a-and, you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Just fucking drop it! Leave me alone!”

“You are so fucking blind! You’ve always been such an oblivious fucking bitch,” She screams at you and your blood goes cold. You’ve seen her angry, but not like this not when her eyes are blown over with rage.

Yoongi’s heart is beating in his ears as he tries to find you- this club is fucking huge, where the hell could you be? He’s already sent a text to Jungkook, telling him that you might be in trouble at the club and that nobody could find you.

“Where is he then? If he’s so kind, he must be here right?”

“What the fuck is your problem? You’ve always had a stick up your ass about him specifically- I mean you’ve always have a stick up your ass, but with him it’s like something crawled up there and died-”

“You couldn’t even cuff him? You dropped me for him and you didn’t even cuff him?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“What are you afraid of, babe?” She sneers cruelly, “Afraid he’ll find something he doesn’t like? Or are you afraid you’ll find something that you don’t like?”

Frustration and hurt boils in your belly, causing wetness to pool in your eyes. You shut your eyes tightly, willing the feeling to go away. With all of the calmness you can muster, you throw her hand off of you and rub your forearm gingerly.

Before you can say anything, her eyes narrow to slits. You don’t even have time to react before you feel a sudden wetness drench the front of your top. Remnants of her drink are splashed on your torso and you gasp, rage flaring through your veins once more. How dare she throw her drink at you? Before you can do anything though, a pair of arms circle your waist and you’re pulled into a strong chest.

You recognize the scent of his cologne immediately and the feel of his leather jacket. “Jungkook,” You mumble, looking up at him. He immediately gives you his jacket and pushes it through your arms wordlessly.

“Hi,” He murmurs, taking in your wide, nervous eyes and the trembling of your hands. He brushes a thumb over your cheek before standing in front of you and you take his hand in yours. Jungkook squeezes reassuringly.

He offers Sora a long, hard look and a shake of his head. She almost balks at his intense gaze. Almost.

“C’mon baby,” Jungkook finally says, “Let’s get out of here.”

“My knight in shining arm-” You shiver once you’re both outside the club, away from the eyes of strangers. You cut your train of thought off when he pulls you close to him, cupping your cheeks with both hands. Worry dots his eyes and he presses his forehead to yours shakily.

“Jungkook?” You say softly, “Is everything-”

He exhales, a shudder felt against your skin. He seems to be at odds with himself, an internal battle dancing in his dark eyes. But Jungkook makes up his mind and cradles your face again, the gentle pads of his thumbs brushing over your cheeks.

“I missed you,” Jungkook croaks, “Shit, I miss you so fucking much. Can I kiss you, baby? Is it okay if I kiss you?”

You nod instantly, breathing out a soft ‘yes’. Whatever this recent development means for both of you, it makes sense. You want this and you want him.

And then he kisses you as if it was meant to be, as if he’s been thinking about your lips every minute of every day- soft, balmy lips against your chapped, red lips. Jungkook swallows your gasp, somehow brushing against the parts of your heart that missed him. His kiss is sweet and desperate as his tongue traces over your teeth before dipping further into your mouth. Your knees weaken slightly, but he holds you steady with one arm around your waist and his other hand cradling your cheek.

You’re overwhelmed by him and from the events of the night. Whatever wetness had gathered in your eyes clings to your lashes before dropping down your cheeks.

“Baby,” Jungkook says softly. He gathers you in his arms, hugging you tightly. You sink into his hold on you, inhaling deeply. The faint thrum of his heart calms you slightly.

“I missed you,” You reply, voice barely above a whisper, “Fuck, I missed you a lot.”

He kisses your forehead with a small smile, the hint of his dimples making you smile, too. Jungkook looks at you as if you’re transparent, trying to study the reason for your wet lashes and the tear stains down your face. A feeling of understanding passes between you both, calming your racing heart and your nerves.

“Jungkook,” You murmur, “Take me home.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Yours,” You reply, not really wanting to be in your home just yet, “It’s only fair, since you spent the night at my place last time, right?”

“I guess I can’t argue with that,” Jungkook chuckles. He kisses you one more time before adjusting his motorcycle helmet over your head. When you wrap your arms around him, you press a kiss to the back of his neck and behind his ear.

He shivers.

Jungkook can tell you’re in your head a little bit, a little quiet and shaky. Even as you head into his bathroom to change into the clothes he’d given you, you couldn’t quite meet his eyes. When you returned from the bathroom with a bare face, you’re lost in thought, biting down on your bottom lip and chewing harshly.

He’d pulled you into his arms, applied his clear balm on your lips, and chided you for treating your lips like that.

You only smiled weakly at him and meekly asked him to hold you under his covers. He doesn’t deny you.

He’d caught the tail end of Sora’s tirade at the club, and he’d begun to understand. He thinks you had begun to understand, too.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers into your hair, “Do you want to talk, baby?”

“I don’t know what to say,” You admit softly, pressing your hand over his.

“I can talk for both of us,” Jungkook says, kissing your temple, “Can I do that?”

“Yeah,” You mumble, threading your fingers through his and squeezing.

“I heard some of what Sora said,” Jungkook says and you tense up but he wordlessly tells you to relax, “I think in some weird, twisted, fucked up way. She loved you and her way of showing you how was keeping you to herself. It’s shitty, but it made sense to her. But you don’t owe her anything, baby. Not a damn thing.”

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I feel really gross and I don’t know why.”

“That’s alright, baby,” Jungkook says, rubbing your arm, “You didn’t know. That’s not love, not really. You’re safe here.”

“I know,” You say, turning to look at him with a small smile, “I trust you.”

You turn fully in his arms, resting your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist. His heartbeat lulls you to sleep, as well as his gentle fingers over your back. It’s so easy with him, and you don’t need to think too much. Just how you like it.

Tags: @kookdbean @codeinebelle

MoM Tags: @tiemeuptogoldenchains @boymeetsparadise @jungkooksseuphoria @kaepjjangiya @drumsofheaven @ppeachyttae @tae-bebe @yiyi4657 @mygscafe @beeeetsandskzreads @maichiverse @hordanhearsawhooo @anonymous2505

[hockeylvr59]

Collide Part 2 || Sidney Crosby

Summary: Life as a single foster mom and a pediatrician didn’t leave much time for dating. But when Dr. Erin Lancaster becomes the pediatrician for Pittsburgh Penguins Defenseman Brian Dumoulin's baby boy, her association and quick friendship with his wife Kayla turns her crazy but quiet life upside down. 

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Apparently my brain is just on a Sid kick lately. First a blurb update, now this one. Let me know what you think. 

Warnings: alcohol consumption        Word Count: 2,001

~~~~~

The weeks leading up to the holiday season were usually some of the best as a foster mom. The kids that I called my own, even temporarily, generally didn’t have a great experience with family holidays in the past and it was always exciting to teach them the magic of the season. The joy of watching the Macy’s parade and then football before having a big meal, going looking at Christmas lights, and everything else that filled the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas. 

This year though, this year was tough. A few weeks ago, just days after my trip to the hospital, the seven year old I was fostering was moved to another placement. More biological siblings had popped up in the system and taking them would have placed me over my permitted limit. So instead, the rambunctious boy I was finally starting to make strides with was moved so that he could be with siblings he had never met, all because of the preference of keeping siblings together. A week later, my five year old was transferred back into the care of his mother who had successfully completed a rehabilitation program. I wasn’t sure the woman could be trusted but the court had decided she was fit enough to regain custody and there was nothing I could do about it. 

Finally, yesterday, my newborn had been deemed stable enough to be placed with a paternal grandmother now that he was completely off the drugs. I had done my limited job of making sure that he got elevated care and now he was in the placement I knew he’d end up in all along. 

It was the weekend before Thanksgiving and for the first time in a long time I didn’t have any kids under my roof. Honestly, I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t have any kids placed with me, it had been that long. Yesterday, it had been easy enough to ignore, I went into the office to catch up on paperwork, I picked up dry cleaning and went grocery shopping before drinking half a bottle of wine and falling into bed exhausted. 

Today though, things were quiet and now that the world had stilled around me, my normally thick exterior cracked and I found myself sobbing steadily. I loved being a foster mom, I really did, but it was heartbreaking to know that these kids would never be mine for one reason or another. That while most days my house was full of laughter and as much love as these kids could manage, days like today would always be waiting at the end of it all. 

While drowning my sorrows with a pint of ice cream I definitely didn’t need to be eating at 11am, my phone buzzed beside me with a message from Kayla Dumoulin. She had texted more than once over the past few weeks with worries such as whether Brayden’s cord was healing normally and whether she could cut his nails because he didn’t like the mittens but she didn’t want him to cut himself. Through our text conversations she had learned of my rapidly emptying house and her message this morning was just to check in and see how I was doing. 

She was such a sweetheart and I replied with a shrug emoji declaring that if sobbing over a pint of ice cream at 11am was normal then I was doing just fine. The phone rang a moment later and I sighed seeing her name pop up because the message wasn’t intended to make her feel guilty or anything, it was just genuine honesty. Still, I answered the phone, setting the pint of ice cream aside for a moment. 

“It sounds like you need some baby cuddles.” Kayla stated, the sound of soft chatter coming through the line. “Why don’t you come over. Brayden wouldn’t mind seeing his favorite doctor.” She suggested. 

“That’s sweet but I’ll be okay.” I assured her. “I don’t want to impose. I’m sure I can find something to do.” 

“You’re not imposing.” Kayla insisted. “Me texting you at 2am with a breastfeeding question was imposing.” Her voice was teasing and I sighed softly remembering being up with my own newborn when she had a question about hers since Brian was on the road. 

“Seriously.” She continued. “Come over, snuggle Brayden, and give my husband a second opinion on this bottle of wine he just got since I can’t drink.” She suggested. Sensing that she truly meant it, I sighed and agreed reluctantly telling her to send me the address. 

____

45 minutes later, I had cleaned myself up so it didn’t look like I had spent the last few hours sobbing. After putting on some light makeup, I had thrown on some black jeans, a striped long sleeve tee, and a tan pullover before deeming myself decent enough to head out. 

Plugging the address in my phone’s gps, I drove over to Kayla and Brian’s neighborhood, parking down on the street in front of their house. It didn’t even register that there were approximately a half dozen cars spread between the driveway and the street already as I made my way up to the front door. 

Kayla greeted me after just a minute and I gently teased that if I didn’t know better I wouldn’t believe she just had a baby as she let me inside. That made her smile, and as she guided me to the kitchen for a glass of wine I realized that there was a significant amount of noise coming from the living room. It wasn’t until she was murmuring for me to make myself comfortable that I realized the living room was occupied by almost a dozen Penguins players, football pregame on tv. 

“Alright Muzz, you can give my baby back now.” Kayla declared half-joking, half-serious. As soon as the goalie handed the baby over, Kayla was crossing the room back to me and handing off the little boy who just snuggled into my chest as soon as he was placed there. “There...baby snuggles.” She murmured. 

“Thanks.” I whispered, resting a hand over the infant’s back before taking a sip of wine feeling slightly uncomfortable as eyes slowly landed on me. 

“Hey doc.” Brian greeted appearing from somewhere else in the house. “Let me know what you think of that wine, not sure if this brand is a keeper or not.” He stated simply portraying the feeling that I wasn’t at all anywhere I didn’t belong and that this was a normal occurrence. Nodding I promised to do so before just focusing back on the baby in my arms. The physician portion of my brain noted that he was doing well and had certainly been growing while the rest of me just found myself relaxing at the feeling of a baby’s steady breaths. 

Most of the guys paid me no mind as the game started. Yet I felt one pair of eyes linger. As I stepped outside after handing Brayden off to feed just before halftime, a four legged companion joined me and I chuckled petting the Dumoulin’s dog Roo while sitting on the steps of their patio nursing my second glass of wine. 

The patio door slid open and then shut before a body slid down next to me on the steps. 

“So where are your foster kids?” A familiar voice asked and glancing over my eyes met those of the Penguins Captain. 

“With another foster family, with their mother, and with their paternal grandmother.” I whispered, quickly taking another sip of the wine to try and push back another round of tears. “The sucky thing about being a foster mom is they always go away in the end.” 

“I...I didn’t know.” Sid mumbled after a moment and I waved him off petting Roo and wiping at my eye with the back of my hand. 

“I didn’t expect you to.” I stated simply. 

“So that’s why…” Sid trailed off, stopping when I nodded. 

“Baby cuddles to try and make everything better.” I shrugged. “To fill the three new cracks in my heart. It’s been a long time since I was childless.” I whispered. “I’ve been trying to recall when it was and I honestly can’t remember. I feel like it had to have happened at least a few times but I really can’t recall not having anyone since I became a foster mom in the first place.” 

“How long is that?” Sid asked, tone softer now than it had been that day at the hospital. 

“Two...almost three years. I applied to become a foster parent toward the end of my residency.” 

“Can I ask how many?” Sid questioned. 

“36.” 

“In three years? That’s...wow.” Glancing over I could see the genuine shock on his face. 

“I don’t know what the turnover rate is generally but I’m fairly certain my rate is higher than average. I get a lot of the drug addicted babies because of my skills and they’re generally only with me 2-3 weeks until it’s safe to move them into a more permanent placement, often with other family members.” 

“How do you handle that?” He murmured, reaching down to pet Roo as well who had rolled over onto her back for belly rubs. 

“Usually I just focus on my patients, on the kids that I do still have with me because they deserve all of my love and attention. This time? Crying over Ben and Jerry’s at 11am until Kayla insisted I come over.” A smile cracked Sid’s face and he apologized quickly declaring that this isn’t something to smile about. 

“No it’s okay. You can find it amusing, I know it wasn’t the most healthy coping method.” 

“Are you going to be okay?” He inquires softly. 

“Yeah. Well, I should probably lay off the wine. Dumo has really good taste.” Sid’s eyes crinkled a little bit and he looked at me like be serious. “I will be. I mean it’s only a matter of time before I get the call that another child needs me.” I assured him. “I just...sometimes...days like this...they make me wonder whether I still want to do this, you know…” 

“Go on…” Sid urged. 

“I just...it’s so hard. Never knowing whether I’m going to wake up and have to say goodbye again. Constantly giving away pieces of my heart that I’ll never get back. Days like today make me just want to be a mom. Not a foster mom but a mom. To have my own kids who won’t be there one day and gone the next.” 

“I get that feeling.” Sid murmured after a moment. “Not the ‘here one day gone the next’ part, but uh, wanting your own kids part, that I get.” He rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke before dropping his hand back down to pet Roo, his fingers brushing against mine. Immediately my mind flashed back to the feeling of his hand wrapped around mine and I quickly pushed that aside. 

“There you are!” Kayla exclaimed, popping her head out the door, her eyes shifting back and forth between you and Sid and noting how close you were sitting. “We just put out some food if you’re hungry and want something other than ice cream.” She grinned, dipping back inside looking like she was about to burst with what she just saw even if it was absolutely nothing. 

When Sid stood he offered a hand out to help you up, murmuring for Roo to come inside and he’d see if he could find her a treat. The bulldog was eager for that and followed after him as you brushed yourself off and picked your wine glass up moving to rejoin the group. 

Ridding of your buzz with some food and water and more baby snuggles you finally headed home with the feeling that there was something more to your conversation with Sid that you hadn’t put your finger on.

Outfit: 

[nyaheum]

Eurovision, 2022 - A (heavily) subjective list - by me, for me

At last! My annual Eurovision list, feat. me not liking a lot of people’s favourite song and generally just being kind of fed up with a certain genre this year. Fun. :)

X. Malik Harris – Rockstars (Germany)

Very radio-friendly. :)...I extensively live-tweeted all of my thoughts about this, but to sum it up: this song is fine. I like the rap part a lot, and I’m extremely indifferent to the rest. At least it’s not Team Liebe. Justice for EC. Pump It would have been in my Top 3, easily. No ranking, because I can’t vote for it anyway, and I’m way too biased here.

39. Marius Bear – Boys Do Cry (Switzerland)

Someone wake me up when this is over, okay? Not trying to be mean, it’s just… I really...ZzZzZ… Because he does NFTs.

38 - 33. Rosa Linn – Snap (Armenia)

...meh? This is the kind of song that’d be on the radio while I’m driving my car to Uni and it wouldn’t be enough to make me change the channel, but I also wouldn’t be super pumped about it being on the radio, you know? Also, why is she so...happy by possibly snapping? She’s literally there like “And I might...snap. :P”

38. - 33. Andrea – Circles (North Macedonia)

Just...ZzZ...one...ZzZ...moment, I’ll...ZzZ...This could be...ZzZ...good with...ZzZ...proper staging…

38. - 33. MARO – Saudade Saudade (Portugal)

I’m not...ZzZ...critical on purpose, it’s just...ZzZ…

38. - 33. Emma Muscat – I Am What I Am (Malta)

*crying emoji* *skull emoji* *sleeping emoji* *skull emoji*

38. - 33. Mia Dimšić – Guilty Pleasure (Croatia)

Definitely not my guilty pleasure, whoops. It mainly just bores me. ://

38. - 33. Systur - Með Hækkandi Sól (Iceland)

Aww man, I’m falling asleep again...so, while I wait this song out...do you know which Icelandic band absolutely rocks? KALEO. I saw them live once. They were really good.

32. Sam Ryder – SPACE MAN (United Kingdom)

Well, that music video woke me up at least. The song is nice enough, but the tone of his voice just doesn’t match my personal taste, so...eh. Still better than what the UK usually sends.

31. Amanda Georgiadi Tenfjord – Die Togehter (Greece)

Very radio-friendly. (And while I’m German, this isn’t a bad thing, it just describes it rather well.) I don’t mind it, but if I’m honest, I’ll probably be taking my toilet break when this is on. Chrm.

30. Intelligent Music Projects – Intention (Bulgaria)

This nearly became my guilty pleasure this year, lmao. I know nobody likes it and there’s straight up no chance it will qualify, and it probably shouldn’t, but come on, it’s not that bad.

29. STEFAN – Hope (Estonia)

That’s some bass! I expected a different kind of song when I read the name, but this is quite nice. I mean, I wish the chorus was different, but that’s just me, I guess. I kind of miss Uku’s scarily blue eyes, though. He grew on me, after I heard he likes F1, lmao. (Talking about that...I recently learned that Efendi, who represented Azerbaijan last year, actually sang the national anthem in 2018 at an F1 event, so...)

28. Mahmood & BLANCO – Brividi (Italy)

Hear me out, okay?...I don’t even have anything groundbreaking to say, I just...don’t like this song. I feel like people only are so adamant about this being such huge candidate for winning because it’s Italy, Mahmood was really good with Soldi and the two of them are clearly very talented for their age. But...this really just does nothing for me. (And I don’t even mind slow songs, Switzerland was literally in my Top 3 the past two years.)

27. Cornelia Jakobs – Hold Me Closer (Sweden)

I know this was the big audience favourite for Melodifestivalen, but...why, exactly? I mean, her voice is really good, I’m not arguing against that, but my god, the song is extremely...”Sweden”. Meaning, it’s a good song, sure, but I feel like I’ve heard this so many times before. Bleh.

26. Andromache - Ela (Cyprus)

Serious question – when did Cyprus last send a singer that’s actually from Cyprus? I don’t mind it, I’m just...wondering. (San Marina has Valentina Monetta as least, lmao.) Oh, and this song is fine. It sounds very Greek, which isn’t really a surprise, but it’s nice enough. (To answer my own question; 2016 or 2017, so not long ago at all. Whoops. Also, apparently Andromache was born in Siegen, Germany, so...auf geht’s Mädel!)

25. Reddi – The Show (Denmark)

I was about to be mad that this is another slow song, but it’s actually fun! I’m fine with the slow part, because it builds up the fast part nicely, but the fast part gets rather old rather quickly, sadly. I also feel like this will have a hard time qualifying, because fans of slow songs will be disappointed by the direction it’s taking, and fans of more upbeat songs will be disappointed by the first verse. We’ll see.

24. Nadir Rustamli – Fade To Black (Azerbaijan)

*points at the UK* That, but in black. (haha) No, I like it more than the UK, mainly because I like his voice more, but I’m not really all that into it. Might qualify, might not. And while those high notes are impressive, if it’s not Gjon, I don’t want it. (/s)

23. Monika Liu – Sentimentai (Lithuania)

This is growing on me, actually. It’s still not my favourite or anything, but I definitely don’t mind it. (Even though the music video makes me dizzy, lmao.) It’s just missing a proper build-up and release for me to like it more, I think. It feels like it builds up to something, but it...doesn’t, really. It just keeps going...But lithuanian is a very nice language, I learned.

22. LPS – Disko (Slovenia)

I like this song, but could the Youtube comment section be any more pretentious about it? :’D We get it, you like real music, and every song this year is somehow underrated...anyways, this is nice. Not quite my cup of tea, but I can acknowledge that it’s good, and that the band is very talented...they’re so...young…

21. S10 – De Diepte (Netherlands)

I kind of like the chorus and I’ll give it extra points for being sung in the native language of the country that sent it. It’s also quite catchy, but not exciting enough for me, especially if I imagine it on stage without the music video. Still quite good, though.

20. Circus Mircus – Lock Me In (Georgia)

A vibe.

19. We Are Domi – Lights Off (Czech Republic)

I’m really not in the mood for slow songs this year, if you couldn’t tell already, so this gets points for being upbeat alone. I like it, anyway. Not enough that I would go out of my way to listen to it, but it’s fine.

18. WRS – Llámame (Romania)

Oh yeah, this is Eurovision. Eurovision from quite a few years ago, but it’s definitely Eurovision. The singer (is his name WRS or is it a group? I actually don’t know) is weirdly charismatic, too. I quite like it, actually, even if it sounds dated. Maybe that’s exactly why I like it, I don’t understand the intricacies of my taste in music.

17. The Rasmus – Jezebel (Finland)

I mean, it’s no “In The Shadows”, and it took a few listens, but this definitely grew on me. (And while I really wanted Kuuma Jäbä to win, I knew it had no chance, so I’m not salty or anything.) What does “a girl who looks like she’s a boy” mean in this context, though? Anyway...Jezebeeeel!

16. LUM!X feat. Pia Maria – Halo (Austria)

Austria sending two religiously-named songs after each other, let’s go. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but this feels so intensely radio-friendly, it’s insane. I quite like it, though. I’m still very European in my music taste after all. She has a great voice, though I’ll need to hear it live.

15. Achille Lauro – Stripper (San Marino)

For the people saying he’s just trying to profit off of Maneskins success last year...this man has been doing this since 2012. The song is fine, it’s fun, not my favourite, but I feel like it will extend San Marino’s qualifying-streak.

14. Ochman – River (Poland)

Big step up from Poland, but why does this sound sofamiliar? I feel like I’ve heard this before...but wherever I heard it before, I must have also liked it back then, so...who cares, really. (Can we talk about how Krystian was born in Massachusettsof all places though? lmao)

13. Sheldon Riley – Not The Same (Australia)

It’s quite nice. I did not expect that many slow songs this year, considering the trend where everyone sends something similar to the year before. His voice is really good. Love his outfit, too, which doesn’t add anything to the song, but I had to get it out there.

12. Vladana – Breathe (Montenegro)

Talking about building up to something with Lithuania...this song does it in a way that I like. I also made the mistake of looking up the backstory to this song (because it’s very obviously about COVID) and now I’m sad. :( She has a super great voice, too.

11. Michael Ben David – I.M (Israel)

Eurofans really don’t seem to like this as much as I expected they would, considering...all of it, lmao. I don’t care though, it slaps. This will be a lot of fun on stage, I’m sure.

10. Brooke – That’s Rich (Ireland)

I think this might be the first song where I actually prefer the verses over the chorus, but I still enjoy it. They need to go all out with the staging though, or this will absolutely drown in Turin.

09. Jérémie Makiese – Miss You (Belgium)

This is a Bond-song, lol. At the start especially. His voice is incredible, though. And I actually found myself liking it quite a bit, after being sceptical after the first chorus. This could rise or fall a lot in my list, depending on how good he is live. (fun fact: markise in german means sunblind)

08. Ronela Hajati – Sekret (Albania)

I actually don’t mind the revamp. I’m surprised myself, but it works. It still sounds very typical for Albania, that’s probably it. I like it, and I love me a good dance break. She scares me a little, though.

07. Citi Zēni - Eat Your Salad (Latvia)

Behold, the Sebastian Vettel theme song. I was rooting for this song in the NF so hard, even though I didn’t think it’d make it, so imagine being me right now. Of course it’s a bit of a shame that they need to censor the absolutely iconic opener, but, like, even apart from the lyrics I truly believe it’s just a good song? I really hope it does well.

06. Zdob şi Zdub & Fraţii Advahov – Trenuleţul (Moldova)

This is just fun, come on. Absolute guilty pleasure. My grandpa, of all people, really enjoys his song, so as a proxy, so I thought about bumping this up a bit no matter what, because he usually keeps out of my grandma and me obsessing over it, lmao. But I like it myself a lot too, especially after multiple listens, so this is just my normal rating of it. Let’s go on a train ride!

05. Chanel – SloMo (Spain)

Hell yeah Spain, let’s go. It’s a bop, and we know it is. And I know that I just want to talk about the songs, but apparently Kyle Hanagami made the choreography, which...damn?

04. Konstrakta – In Corpore Sano (Serbia)

This song has been growing on me recently, but I still only enjoy everything after the first verse. (Yes, it's still P4 for me. Idk.) The first verse does nothing for me, I don’t like it. The rest of the song is great, though. Even though the super loud and long chewing at the start of the music video made me want to curl into a ball and poke a needle through my ear drums. Urghughgh.

03. Subwoolfer – Give That Wolf A Banana (Norway)

...listen! What do they put in the water in Norway? First Ylvis (who, apparently, some people think this might be, which...damn), now this? But, like, even without the absolutely ridiculous lyrics, I really like this. It’s a vibe. With the lyrics, I like it even more, duh, and I kind of want to know if they’ll just keep those masks on the whole show, lmao. (Probably, considering it’s secret and all...maybe we should send Cro next year.) And now, someone please give that damn wolf a banana, I quite like my grandma.

02. Kalush Orchestra – Stefania (Ukraine)

This slaps so hard. I like rap quite a lot, I love the eastern european sound of it all, I love the flute, and while I’m convinced they will place high no matter what, they deserve it. Hope they can show their song off properly in May. I really like this. (and I like it a lot more than their initial entry, so I’m even moreinclined to like it) It just scratches a good part of my brain.

01. Alvan & Ahez – Fulenn (France)

My favourite, no question, no contest. France and Germany were the only NFs I watched, and holy shit, this song...also, like, it’s not french? France, you good? But I love that they sing in Breton...I love celtic languages, they sound so damn cool. This is just such a vibe, I adore it.

[iguessilovebakugou]

Stranger ||  Bakugou x Reader ||  { Anon Request }  ||  Stalking

TW:  Cursing ||  Stalking || Threats of violence  ||  Implied desire for Non-Con (not from Bakugou tho) Word Count:  5.5K

It started after the Sport Festival.  

A DM that had been sent to your private social media account - a friend from your old school named Honoka. You hadn’t spoken to her since starting UA - and the moment you saw the notification, you felt guilty that this was how she had to reach out to you.  She had been so proud of you when you got accepted, she almost started crying, hugging you tightly and telling you as much.  She asked you to keep in contact in High School.  You had promised her you would.

You had been so busy, it was hard keeping promises.

Honoka: Hey!  I saw you on the TV - you were amazing!  I can’t believe they wouldn’t let you pass onto the finals.  Good thing though - you would have gone against that asshole.

Honoka:  Not that you couldn’t have handled it!

It should have tipped you off that one of the quieter kids of school would have used such language, but it didn’t.  It had been a few months since starting high school and people have changed faster.  You didn’t think much about it aside from replying before your train pulled into the station.  You might miss your stop and be late to school.  

You were always punctual and refused to have something as stupid as that go against your record.  

You waited until you were off the train, standing on the steps before sending a quick message. 

Thanks!  It was really terrifying.  But I lost fair and square.  Besides, I wasn’t the only one who didn’t make it to the finals.  So I guess it’s okay. :) 

You decided not to humor her comment about Bakugou.  While it drew a hot, angry tie around your neck, part of you understood.  Honoka wasn’t alone in thinking he was...less than pleasant.  It had been a point of contention, something that bothered you both that day and since.  People were just wrong about him.  She didn’t know him like Class 1-A did.  A few short clips from some televised sports festival didn’t do him nearly the justice he was deserved.

You didn’t have enough time to put your phone back in your jacket pocket when it buzzed again. 

Honoka: Still.

Honoka: You were so strong.  We all think they should have made an exception for you.

Honoka: We should meet up sometime.  Gtg! Text me after school to set up a time!

You wanted to question it but you didn’t.  

You really should have questioned it.  

King Explosion Murder was a perfectly good name.

Miss Midnight just doesn’t understand art.

The conversation had been going on for a hour.  It was the longest that you and Bakugou had texted.  You had moved from a group text to your own private thread.  He didn’t text you like normal boys did - no pictures, no emojis, no stupid memes he had found.  It was...conversation, one that hadn’t been as hard to keep going as you thought.  you tried to distract yourself with school work while he replied, but found it hard not to keep your attention on your screen as the text bubble flashed.  

Bakugou:  It was better than “Deku”.

Well Deku was less violent

Bakugou:  AND IT WAS STILL BETTER

Bakugou:  THAN FUCKING DEKU’S

Honoka: You still up?

You stopped.  Honoka?  Why on earth was she texting you...oh shit.  You groaned, rubbing your eyes and kicking yourself for forgetting to text her back like she had asked.  You had been so wrapped up texting Bakugou since getting home that it just completely slipped your mind.  Though, to be fair, most things slipped your mind around him.

You opened your chat with her, trying to figure out how to apologize without seeming like too much of an asshole.

Hey, yeah, sorry.

I started talking to one of my classmates and totally forgot.  

My bad, dood. 

Once again, she replied quickly. 

Honoka: Who were you talking to?

There was a small part of you that wanted to ask her why it was her business, but you bit your tongue.  She probably didn’t mean anything by it and some residual bitterness from her comment this morning was probably lingering.  You took a deep breath. 

Bakugou.  

We workshopped hero names today.  His got shot down by our teacher.  

It was so sad. 🤣🤣🤣

Honoka:  Why are you talking to him?

It wasn’t a question, not really.  It was a statement.  Like you talking to Bakugou was taboo, you could practically hear her grasping her pearls.  You shouldn’t have had to explain to her why you were talking anyone, let alone him, and it bothered you that she felt she was owed that right. That she even dare ask the question. Your brow furrowed as you sat up in bed.  

What do you mean?

Honoka:  Why are you talking to him?  He seems like an dick

Honoka:  And isn’t good for you. 

Honoka:  You need to focus on being the best hero you can be.

Honoka:  He seems like he would only drag you down. 

Rage filled your stomach.  Your hands were shaking as you tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.  She had never acted this way before...right?  She had always been so nice and meek and unassuming and... 

You were confused, finding yourself chewing on your lip as you tried to make sense of what the hell you were seeing.

He’s my friend.  I really like him.

Look, he’s not as mean as he appears on TV.  He’s actually a really good guy.  And he’s really smart and he’s going to be a better hero than even me some day.

So I would appreciate it if you didn’t talk about him like that.

The chat bubble popped up.  Then disappeared.  Then popped up.  And disappeared again.

It’s funny - you had never felt so threatened by someone not answering.  But as the bubble flashed for a final time, something told you that you had fucked up. 

Honoka was always quiet, yes, but she was also amazingly sweet.  She cried when you were little kids at the ending scene in All Dog’s Go to Heaven, always scrounged up change to donate to someone on the street looking for food, and volunteered every weekend to help with the younger students struggling in studies.  She hadn’t been born with a mean bone in her body.  

But by the end of the week, you were certain the person messaging you wasn’t the same Honoka you knew.  She had changed - and not for the better.  Not in the slightest.  She was growing more insistent that you talk to her - every night.  And if you didn’t?  

The calls were incessant.  One after the other until you finally had to shut your ringer off.  And the voicemails - she never spoke.  Just let it sit for a moment before hanging up.  And you were grateful for it - you didn’t want to talk to her.  Every chance she got, she showered you with praise and adoration while slinging hate at all your friends in 1-A.  But no one got it like Bakugou did.

Honoka:  Stop talking to him.

It’s not any of your damn business who I’m talking to.

Honoka:  If you don’t stop talking to him, I’ll tell him what a whore you were in Middle School.

The water of your bath was scalding, but that didn’t stop you from shaking.  Why was she doing this to you?  Why was she so adamant about making your life miserable?  This wasn’t Honoka - not even in the slightest.  

I’m blocking you.  Leave me alone.

Don’t talk to me anymore.

No matter what, he was pure evil to Honoka.  He was disgusting, arrogant, rude, a monster, a villain hiding in sheep's clothing and would do nothing but drag you down.  He would hurt you, she said.  

Honoka:  Go ahead.  I’ll just make other accounts.

She was as good as her word.  At least that hadn’t changed.

Your classmates were starting to take notice.  After the first few accounts were blocked, she started using a calling app to randomly call you - only to hang up the moment you answered.  Sometimes it was once a night, supplemented with texts about what a no good, lying whore you were.  About how you were just some slut who’s opening you legs for the first guy who gave you any attention. 

Honoka:  Fucking skank.

Honoka:  You’re so fucking worthless.  

Honoka:  You fucking him?  Is that it?  Is that why you want to defend him so bad?

Honoka:  He’s probably fucking every other girl in your class.

Other times, the calls were every hour on the hour.  It had gotten so bad, that you started sleeping in later and later.

You raced through the empty halls, trying to will time to back up.  You had slept in, missing your first train.  When you got on the second one, you fell back asleep until the stop after yours.  The only thing you could do was get off and just run to school as fast as you could.  Class had started 20 minutes ago.  This had never happened before - in your whole life.  You were always meticulous about getting to class early.

You were a good student.  A good person.  You were.  

“Well, look who decided to join us.”  Mr. Aizawa didn’t even bother to hide the annoyance in his voice.  It made it all the more terrible

You wanted to cry.  You felt the eyes of everyone in your class fall on you.  It made your skin squirm, your stomach flip.  You wanted to turn around and just...run home.  To crawl into your bed and... 

You bowed low, your head almost hitting the floor.  “I’m so sorry I’m late, sir!  It won’t happen again!”

“Be sure that it doesn’t.”  His glare hardened.  “We’ll talk after class about your punishment.”

Punishment.  Shit.  You couldn’t speak, resigning to solemnly nodding as you making the walk of shame to your seat, collapsing down.  You had to take a minute, to steady your breath.  To try and collect yourself.  At least at school, you had an excuse not to answer her texts.  To ignore her and pretend like she wasn’t out there being fucking crazy.  School was safe.  School was free from it all.

Almost by habit, you turned and looked over at Bakugou.  A small part of you was praying that he was looking at you.  That his glare would ground you in a way only it knew how.  But when your eyes met...the only thing you felt was misery.  

You fucking him?  Is that it?  

Your heart raced, panic flooded your nerves, and all you wanted to do was run.  Get away from everyone and just...just go to sleep.  You just wanted to sleep.  But Honoka wasn’t allowing that.  You couldn’t stop thinking about half of the things she said while the other half had been resting heavily in your stomach, making you sick.  She was stealing everything from you.

You’re a fucking slut opening her legs for the first guy who gives you attention.  And of course it had to be that fucking dog.

No...no you couldn’t look at him for too long, afraid that he would know.  Terrorized as you were, you couldn’t run the risk of him finding out.  Because...what if she messaged him first?  What if she told him all of her lies and...what if he believed her?

No.  No, that couldn’t happen.

You pulled away from his stare, folding in on yourself.  Just get out your books.  Focus on class and get out your books.  Your phone dinged and your blood ran cold.  You dreaded even looking at it, but as you tugged out your notebook,  the piece of plastic fell, resting against the back of your bag.  It was as if some higher power was damning you to be always aware of the vitriol Honoka was spewing in your direction.  The lock screen shone bright: 21 missed texts, 44 missed calls.  But the most recent message sent horror down your spine.

Honoka:  Naughty girl, sleeping in late for school.  

You slipped out of the lunch room and made your way down the hall.  You were going to put an end to this - once and for all.  You didn’t know what game Honoka was playing at, but whatever it was, you were fucking done.  She was starting to seep into every facet of your life and it was ending now.  Right then, in that hallway.  

When you got a safe distance away from the double doors, to ensure no one could hear you when you started screaming, you searched through your contacts for her number.  When you finally found it however...

God, just looking at her name made you sick.  The fact her contact picture was of you and her, eating ice cream at a beach, grinning and giving the camera a peace sign, posing as only 12 year old girls knew how, it drove a knife into your chest, twisting it even deeper the longer you stared at it.  She was making your life a living hell.  It wasn’t right, it didn’t make any fucking sense.  Why was she doing this to you?  Did you do something to her?  Were you cruel in your last interaction?  Did you make a joke that went so poorly that she decided the only way to get back at you was to ruin your entire life?  To push you so close to the edge that...

She going out of her way to make your life a living hell and for what?  

Well, no better time like the present to find out.

Your thumb slammed down on the dial button.  Each ring was like nails on chalk board.

Her voice was even worse.

She said your name so surprised, before crying it out in joy.  “Oh my god, it’s been so long!”

Well...that...wasn’t...true?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Honoka went silent on the other end of the phone.  “Uh...are you okay?”

“You’ve been harassing me since the festival and you’re just going to act like-”

“Wait...what?”

“The thousands of texts!?  The millions of calls!?”

She didn’t answer.  You couldn’t help the grin that spread over your face.  You fucking got her.  You caught her in her bullshit lie and she didn’t have anything to say for it.  You hated to admit it, but part of you was excited to hear how she was going to explain it way.  How she was going to break down and finally you could tell her off and it was going to stop and you could get a good night’s sleep and maybe your mom could make your favorite curry and you would be able to eat it and not throw it up later and -

“I haven’t been texting you.”

Well...you couldn’t have said you were expecting that.  You stopped, staring at your feet.  “I...what?”

“I...haven’t been calling you.  Or texting you.”  She said, her voice - that ever familiar voice - filled with worry.

...of course she would be worried.  She was always so fucking nice. 

“Yes you have!!”  You shouted, gritting your teeth.

She said your name, so softly and so calmly, “No.  I haven’t.  I promise you, I haven’t.  Are you okay?  Is everything alright?”

The phone vibrated in your fingers and the screen lit up once more.  Another unknown number was calling you.  You didn’t hesitate and for the first time since this all began you answered the her-him-they-it. 

“What!?”  You screamed, pressing the phone to your ear.  You strained to hear, to try and find out who was doing this to you.  “What do you want!?  Why are you doing this to me!?  Leave me alone!!!”

...click!

The dial tone felt like a death sentence.

The hallway shrunk and expanded, growing larger and darker - like the mouth of the beast, it was going to swallow you whole.  You pressed your phone to your forehead, slumped to the floor and realized...you were crying.  No, not just crying.  You were sobbing, each one wracking your body and shaking your bones.  Shit...shit, shit, shit.  You just wanted to go back to the way things were.  You wanted it to stop, wanted whoever was doing this to leave you alone and - 

Your phone buzzed again.  Another message.  

Another sob rocked your body, but you found the strength to turn it back into view.

UNKNOWN NUMBER ::  [ MULTIMEDIA MESSAGE ]

Your fingers trembled so hard you almost dropped the phone.  You didn’t want to look at whatever it was.  Whoever was doing to you was fucking sick, was deranged and psychotic and out of their mind and...you had to do something about it.  Maybe you could tell a teacher?  But what could they do about it?  Up security?  Just for you?  No, it was entirely out of the question.  You couldn’t go to the police - since who ever this was hadn’t physically done anything to harm you.  

You were on your own.

You opened the message.

It was your house.  The sun was setting.  Then another.  This one was early in the morning.  Then another.  And another.  Another another another another another another another another another different angles, different times of day...but all focused on one spot. 

Your bedroom.  Sometimes it was empty, but other times you were in shot.  Sometimes working on homework, sometimes sitting with your cat on the window sill, other times pulling your shirt above your head, reaching behind your back for your bra and...

UNKOWN NUMBER :  Stop ignoring me.

Your phone clattered to the floor as you gripped your hair, trying to steady your breathing.  In two three fours, Out two three fours.  In two three fours, Out two three-

“Hey.”

The scream was involuntary, as was backing against the lockers so hard that you slammed your head against them.  Bakugou recoiled, staring at you, his eyes wide with surprise.  It didn’t last long, quickly overtaken by gritted teeth and snarls.  “The hell is your-”

He must have noticed the tears, the absolute panic on your face.  The silence fell over the two of you, the echo of your scream now long gone.  You wished you were.  You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face the shame of what was happening.  How could you explain it. 

“You alright?”  

You pulled your legs up to you chest, hugging them tightly.  “No,” You replied.

Bakugou was never one for consolations.  So you were almost surprised when all he made his way over to where you were sitting and sat down beside you.  You flinched, only a little, but it didn’t seem to bother him none.  He shoved his hands in his pockets, but didn’t say a word, his bright red eyes focused out the window across from you.  You...were grateful.  For the first time in almost two weeks, you didn’t feel entirely vulnerable.  Like everything was crumbling down around you.  And in this small moment of peace, you felt horribly exhausted.  Your mind ached, your body was sore, your eyes were so red and...and...

You rested against his shoulder and he didn’t make a move to stop you.  It was like Bakugou was putting himself between you and...whoever was stalking you.  

Stalking you.  You had a stalker.  

You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes.  “I’m sorry.”  You offered.

“For what?”  He barked.

“For crying.”

He didn’t answer for a moment, “Tch.  Yeah, well...maybe suck it the hell up.  Whatever it is, it’s not a big deal.”

Not a big...you turned to look at him, eyes narrowing.  “Not a big deal...?”  

He looked at you, a bored and disgruntled expression on his face.  “Yeah.”

“It’s kind of a big fucking deal.”

“Oh yeah?  Well then what the hell is it?”

“Whoa, it’s that kid who just won the Sports Festival!”

“Oh, wow!  He’s so much scarier in person!”

“Do you think he would be mad if I asked for an autograph?”

“Yeah! Look at his mug - he’s obviously pissed off about something!”

Bakugou had stayed late, even through your detention, to walk you home.  It was nearly dark now as you walked side by side down your street.  The sun was struggling to peak over the row of houses and a purple ink had settled over the top of the sky.  

It was taking everything in you not to apologize...again.  He didn’t need to be dragged into your mess.  But...shit, it wasn’t like you weren’t ecstatic that he offered to walk you home back in the hallway.  He was a terrifying presence, unstoppable.  As he stalked down the road towards your house, a scowl on his face as his eyes peered around every corner, it hit you that you felt safer now than you had the past few weeks.  

“Hey.”  You picked up the pace, making sure to stay close.  “Thank you again.  I just-”

“Ugh, stop thanking me!”  He glared at you.

“I’m just-”  You sighed and gripped your bag straps.  “I...I don’t see the point of you walking me home.  Not...that I don’t appreciate it, I just...won’t that make him mad?”

Bakugou scoffed.  “That’s the point, you idiot.”

Sometimes, you thought you almost understood him.  But then he blew up Rome and screamed at you to start over tomorrow morning.  You stared at him in confusion though ultimately decided you didn’t have the energy to argue.  You were just...thankful that he was here.

“This is me.”  Your house was a small thing, nestled on the corner and surrounded by a garden that was meticulously maintained by your mom while you were at school and your father was at work.  Sometimes the pictures had her in the shot, busy at work.  Your lips thinned as you stared up at the second story window,  Your white curtains lay still and your cat stared down at you, like she knew something was wrong.  Like she knew...that things were amiss. 

Well...Bakugou came all this way and the guy didn’t have the guts to show himself.  As you had figured, you had completely wasted his time.  It wasn’t like he was going to move in just to be your watchful protector.  You didn’t want to think that maybe he was just patiently waiting until you were alone but...

“Do you want to come in for something to drink.  It’s the least I could...”  

Bakugou wasn’t looking at you.  His attention was focused entirely over your shoulder.  You blinked, taken aback by the cold, dead glare on his face.  The way his eyes seemed to burn with...rage?  Unbridled anger?  Nothing seemed to do whatever it was justice.  “You’ve been following us since the train station!”  He yelled out.  “Why don’t you stop being a fucking coward and come out of hiding!!”

…someone...had been following you?

You could see the reflection of someone in his eyes.  With a shaking breath, you turned to look at who he was talking to.

You weren’t sure what you expected.  But throughout the day, you had come up with an image in your mind of what your stalker had looked like.  He would be the perfect embodiment of the horror you had suffered though, that was for certain.  A Cheshire grin, wild unkempt hair, vacant, glossy eyes, maybe a knife or something - anything to solidify himself as the monster who had been making your life miserable.  But...he wasn’t.  As you got a good look at him, you realized that he looked relatively...normal.  And for some reason, that thought alone made you sick.  

He was about your age - maybe a bit older - in a school uniform you didn’t recognize.  His hair was dark, pulled back and pushed behind his ears.  His chin was dusted with facial hair and his eyes were darting between you and Bakugou.  He had been standing by the cross walk and tried to pretend to be shocked that Bakugou was even addressing him. 

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t pull that bull with me.”  Bakugou stepped around you, making his way towards him. “I saw you get off the train with us.  You made every turn we did.  Always stayed one step behind where you thought we couldn’t see you.”

The kid only got a word out before Bakugou gripped him by his shirt and slammed him up against the wall of the neighboring house.  “Please!” The kid yelled.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Bakugou!”  Your legs finally remembered they could move.  You bolted over to where he was standing, looking between the two of them.  “Bakugou maybe it isn’t him!  Maybe he-”

“Show us your phone then if you don’t have anything to hide!”  He lifted him up and slammed him back against the bricks.

“I don’t have to show you anything, you fucking lunatic!”

You don’t think you had ever seen him on this street.  You don’t think you had seen him ever but-

“HEY!”  The boy tried to stop Bakugou from reaching into his pocket.  But it was no use.

You caught it was ease, “Try the day of the sports festival for the password.”  Was all he said.

This was fucking insane.  What if this kid wasn’t the stalker?  What if he was just some random guy who was meeting a friend.  You looked back and forth between the two of them - Bakugou, hair wild and death in his eyes, and this guy who looked down at him with fear and...

...oh...

You swiped up, entering the date as instructed.

It unlocked.

And you were met with a pretty lain layout.  Some photo editing apps, Youtube, a few games, and...

Texting and Calling apps.  Your blood ran cold as you opened the first one up.  Texts apon texts, all to the same unlisted number.  Your unlisted number.  You went to the photo gallery and there they were.  The pictures of your house.  Some of them were zoomed in and cropped to only show you.  You wanted to be sick.  You wanted to-

“I can explain!”  

“What the fuck,” You breathed, scrolling through the pictures.  Not just of your house, but of you - walking home from school, of hanging out with your friends, of you shopping.  And that’s when you saw the edited versions.

Fuck.  Oh Shit Fuck. 

“I was only trying to help you!!”  He cried, scratching at Bakugou’s wrist, making his skin bleed.  “I only want what’s best for us!”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”  You covered your mouth, trying to think of what to do next.  Should you call the police?  Your parents!?  What do you do now?

His eyes fell on Bakugou, practically snarling.  “I knew he would do something like this!!  I knew he would try to make me look like some psycho, but I’m not.  I know how he would treat you!  He’s a rabid fucking dog, a mongrel!  I couldn’t let him treat you the same way!  I couldn’t!  I’m just trying to protect you!  But you wouldn’t fucking listen!!  So I thought if maybe you and I could talk you would understand!  You would see what I’m-”

“ARGH!”

Your body tensed as the smell of burnt stone and ash filled the air.  You looked up and half expected his head to be blown clean off.  But it was still attached, only now he looked terrified as he stared down at Bakugou.  You followed his gaze, saw the look of pure, unadulterated rage.  His hand had connected to the wall beside the man’s head, smoke dancing up and around them.  And he was shaking.  Oh, god, how hard Bakugou was shaking.

He spoke low, deep in his chest.  “Listen close, you freak.  You’re going to leave her alone from this point forward - you got that?  If I find out you’re even thinking about her, I’ll kill you myself!!”

The world fell silent.  No one said a word until.  Your stalker was crying now, shaking as he nodded, quickly, mumbling apology after apology.  You couldn’t find the words to say, but your heart.  God, your heart was beating so hard in your chest as you stared at Bakugou.  He...he was...

Oh.

The window in the house behind you slid open.  An older man leaned out the window, his wife nervously peering over his shoulder.  The looked to the source of the commotion before standing up straight, fumbling as the smoke continued to rise from the spot Bakugou...well...destroyed.  “Hey!!  If you don’t get off my property, I’m calling the cops!”

...the police.  

...

The police.

Oh god, you had his phone.  You could prove he had been stalking you!!!  You perked up, smiling for the first time in weeks, “Yes!  Yes, please, call the police!”

The man stared at you, confusion on his face. “....what?”

The weight of the situation only grew heavier when the police searched the contents of the guy’s backpack. 

Rope.  A knife.  Some cloth.  A box of condoms.  And a jar of a clear, sickly sweet smelling liquid.  You heard one of the officers say what it was, though you were sure you weren’t supposed to hear.  But you did, and so did your parents.  Your mom nearly broke down for the third time that evening as your father swore under his breath.  

Homemade chloroform.

His name was Eito Moto - a second year at another High School near your home.  You would find out later that the stalking had started long before the Sports Festival - ever since he started working at the coffee shop you and your mom would go to every Sunday for breakfast.  Your neighbors, the ones who actually called the police, had seen him hanging around sometimes but didn’t think much off it.  

They thought he had just been a fan.  

They decided not to press charges against Bakugou for putting a hole in their fence.  “Given the circumstances,”  The man said, “I think I would have done the same thing.”

You had to go to the police station to file a report and request a restraining order.  It took well into the morning hours, where you mainly spent your time talking to different police officers, retelling the same story, going over evidence, assuring them you didn’t know this guy so you had no clue why he thought you two had been dating for months.  

They sent Bakugou home, your parents offering him their thanks and promises they would find a better, proper way to think him for essentially saving your life.  

By the time you fell into a crumpled heap on your bed, it was 2 in the morning.  It had been so long since you felt...okay.  Your stalker was in police custody for now, you could at least rest easy tonight.  You gripped your pillows, tugging them up and over your head to block out what meager light filtered in through the hallway.  No more late night calls.  No more insistent texts telling you what a no good whore you were.  You were okay.  

Everything was going to be okay. 

Bzzzz.

...oh no.  Oh no.  Oh no.

You peeked out from under your pillow, trying to calm your racing heart.  It couldn’t be him, you thought.  He was in jail, so they wouldn’t let him call you - right?  They wouldn’t let him do that, even if they did give him one call.  With shaking fingers, you reached out and plucked your phone from your end table.

Bakugou is calling!

Oh....oh thank god.

You couldn’t press accept fast enough.  You sighed, resting back against your pillows.  “Hey.”

“Is that bastard in jail?”

A laugh, a good honest laugh.  “Yeah.  Yeah, he’s in jail.  Dad and mom are gonna to talk to a lawyer tomorrow about our options.”

“Did you get a restraining order?”

You nodded.  “Yeah.  That’s what took so long and why we have to go to court.  They gave me an emergency one so...”  You blew out a puff of air, watching as a lock of your hair jumped up and fell back into place.  “At least there’s that.”

“You should have talked to me about this sooner.”  It was softer than you anticipated, less of a bite than he normally had.

You knew you should have.  You should have told someone but...it felt so...pointless?  Like it wouldn’t have mattered.  But, you had to give credit where credit was due.  “I wish I would have.”

He didn’t respond.  You had expected he would have started yelling at you, about hiding it from everyone.  Chastised you for being so stupid and letting it go on for as long as it had.  But no, he stayed quiet.  You could imagine him laying in bed, staring up at his ceiling, and wondered what he was thinking about.  What he wanted to say.  

You rolled over onto your side.  “Hey, Bakugou?”

“What.”

“Thank you.”

There was a long pause before he let out a soft noise.

“Don’t be stupid.  I was only doing what I had to do.”

Stalkers are fucking scary, yah know.  I had to listen to some voicemails left by stalkers to get the vibe down right - and I still don’t think Eito sounded perfect but hey.  At least one blessing in that:  I’ve never been stalked.  

[css1992]

Guilty Pleasure

Summary:  Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM. 

All the warnings listed on Part I apply.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V /  Part VI /  Part VII /  Part VIII  / Part IX / Part X /  Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

Almost two months after moving out of Beck’s place, Peter was able to rent an apartment in the same building as Ned and MJ. It was tiny, of course, but pretty inexpensive, compared to other options he found around that area. Besides, with the money he made with Just4Fans over those few weeks, he would be able to afford it comfortably for at least a few months – largely thanks to YKWIM. He still planned on saving up as much as possible, so he put a lot of effort into making his account grow and it was working – by the end of April, he was up to five hundred subscribers.

He didn’t check to see what Beck was doing, he was too afraid to look and see him with his new boyfriend, but he got lots of comments from his old fans, who still followed Beck, telling him that the new boy had nothing on him. Again, he didn’t dare to check, but the ego boost was nice, even if he didn’t really believe them. Also, he was down to crying once every two days instead of every other day, so he was counting that as a win as well.

His apartment was still pretty empty, specially because he spent most of his time downstairs at his friends’ place, but he decorated the bathroom and his room to the best of his ability, since they would be the background of pretty much all his videos and pictures. He also bought some new lingerie sets, a few costumes and sex toys he wasn’t even sure how to use, but he was slowly figuring them out.

Aside from decorating his room and the bathroom, he also bought an armchair and placed it by the  window with a couple of pillows. It was a nice spot to spend the afternoon reading or working on his computer. The light in that apartment was great, sunlight streamed right into his living room and warmed it up nicely. As they approached the end of April, the weather was getting better everyday.

Some days, he felt happy. He felt okay with the fact that he was still doing porn and that it wasn’t a terrible crime. Sure, it wasn’t what he had planned to do with his life, but he was young, he would eventually figure things out. For the time being, he needed that gig and he couldn’t beat himself up for it. Also, it wasn’t so bad now that he was only doing solo stuff.

Some other days, though, were just – hard. He remembered all the videos that were still online and he felt awful for the sole reason that they existed. Not so much for the ones he filmed with Beck, he was somewhat okay with those, the guy was his boyfriend after all, they had sex anyway, the only difference was the camera in the room. But the other ones…

When he started filming with other men, it quickly turned into an unpleasant experience for him. He hated every second of it and always ended up feeling guilty, used and disposable at the end of the day. Beck didn’t make it any better with the way he looked at him afterwards as he told him to get in the shower.

He wasn’t entirely sure of the reasons why those videos bothered him so much, sometimes it felt like it wasn’t even him in them. It was like he was watching a different person, he looked at himself and felt completely dissociated from that boy – at the same time, he looked at him and he knew – he knew – exactly what he was feeling when those were shot.

But that was a lot to unpack and he just wasn’t ready for that particular crisis.  

So in short, sometimes he was still a little unsure about how long he would be able to keep his Just4Fans account, because even though most days he didn’t feel too weird about it, sometimes it reminded him of things he preferred to forget. But that was fine, he was usually able to work around that. Also, most of his subscribers were great and didn’t make him feel like a cheap whore, so he had that going for him as well.

YKWIM was one of the good ones. They chatted almost daily, and Peter always sent him exclusive pictures and videos just because. He never posted those pictures on his feed once he sent them to him, it was their little secret. In return, he got his own collection of short videos of YKWIM finishing himself off. He didn’t know much about the person behind the videos, he’d taken to calling him daddy because most of his subscribers seemed to like it and YKWIM never complained, so it stuck.

Peter did know he lived in New York – which made him shiver – and that he was a businessman of some kind, but he also always talked about a workshop, so Peter wasn’t sure and he avoided asking personal questions. He worked most of the day and into the night, they usually talked when it was late, always around two in the morning.

He traveled a lot, too, and sometimes sent Peter small clips of his hotel rooms or the view from his balcony. In return, Peter sent him pictures of his messy bedroom and the horrible view from his window as a joke. It was nice talking to him, he always made Peter laugh – and then it often ended with a very satisfying orgasm that put him right to sleep, which was awesome.

Peter estimated YKWIM was older than Beck, but not by too much. He clearly had a fit body, which at first led him to believe he was in his thirties, at most; but he noticed YKWIM sometimes talked about the 80’s like he lived them, so he had to be at least in his forties, but Peter couldn’t be sure. He really wished he would show his face, though, it would be nice to have one to fantasize about. But then again, maybe it would ruin the whole thing.

One afternoon, after Peter spent hours taking pictures, shooting videos and editing them so he could post them over the following week, he got a message from YKWIM. He hurried to check it and was shocked to see that he had sent him yet another tip – forty thousand dollars this time.

“For you to buy pretty things so you can show them off to me.” Said the message that came with the money.

Peter almost dropped his phone when he saw it. It had been only five weeks since his last insane tip, so that made fifty thousand dollars in just a little over a month. For, like, thirty nudes. Who even was that guy?

“Wow, daddy, that’s way too much!” He added a flushed face emoji, for lack of something better to say. He was honestly feeling a little overwhelmed, even if the guy had millions to spend, there was no way just giving someone that amount of money was normal.

“That’s not nearly enough for what you’ve given me, baby.” Peter’s cheeks burned.

“I’m very flattered, but please, I really don’t think I deserve all this.” He was pretty sure he sounded pathetic, but that was how he felt, so. Yeah.

“Oh, but you do. Trust me, you really, really do. You’re worth every penny.” Peter bit his lower lip, a little unsure and still a little shocked.

“At least tell me what you’d like to see from me, please. Do you have any kinks that you’d like me to perform? Don’t be shy.” He asked, even though it always made him nervous to offer that kind of thing. Sometimes people were just waiting for the perfect opportunity to make the weirdest requests.

But, to be fair, he had been talking to YKWIM for over a month, so he somewhat trusted him not to ask for anything too absurd.  And then again, the guy had just paid him forty thousand dollars.

“Well, if you insist...” Here it comes, Peter thought, bracing himself. “Red and gold are my favorite colors. I’d love to see you wearing them.” Oh. Not what he was expecting at all.

“Done! Anything else? Come on, there’s gotta be something else.” Again, risky move. But again, forty thousand dollars.

“I’d love to hear you. You’re always so quiet in your videos. If you feel comfortable, I’d love to hear you call my name.” The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at that request. It sounded… almost sweet? It obviously wasn’t meant like that, it was completely sexual, but out of all the wild things he could have asked for, he wanted to hear Peter call his name.

“What’s your name, daddy?”

“Tony.” Tony. Peter tested the word out on his tongue, saying it out loud once, twice. Tony. It suited the image he had created in his head. Tony.

“I can definitely do that, Tony. Anything else?”

“Buy yourself something pretty and send me a picture wearing it. Nothing sexual. Something you’d wear to a date with me.” Peter’s breath hitched. He supposed it was probably just a weird, rich people kink or something, but his mind went wild anyway. Very, very wild.

“I don’t know what I’d wear to a date with you, daddy. Any advice?”

“I like expensive and beautiful things such as yourself, baby.”

Normally, Peter wouldn’t appreciate being called expensive, like he was a thing to be bought, but he felt weirdly flattered by the answer. He promised YKW – Tony – he would send everything he requested over the next few days, and he was actually excited about the whole thing. And of course he knew that feeling was trouble, there were warning signs flashing like crazy before his eyes, but he ignored them and convinced himself that he was just having fun and he was allowed to have fun if he was going to keep doing porn. He didn’t have to feel miserable and guilty all the fucking time. He could – and should! – take some pleasure from it. He deserved it.

So the following day he asked MJ to go shopping with him, but he still didn’t tell her the whole story, he just said it was for his Just4Fans and she readily agreed to go. They went to Victoria’s Secret and Peter told her what he had in mind.

“So, how’s the job going? You’re doing okay? Not too overwhelmed?” She asked coolly as they searched through the panties section.

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s different when I’m in control, you know? Like, I know my limits and I don’t need to count on other people to respect them. Well, most of the time. So it’s cool.”

Some subscribers were a little pushy sometimes, asking for things Peter wasn’t willing to do and then getting really aggressive after being told no. But it didn’t affect him as much as it did when Beck ignored his boundaries, because those pushy subscribers could be easily blocked, whereas with Beck, well. It was a different story.

“Don’t ever feel like you need to push your limits, okay?” Michelle stopped what she was doing to grab him by the shoulders and force him to look at her. “If you ever feel like stopping, for whatever reason, just do it. No matter what, you’ll always have me and Ned, understand? We’re family, we’re here for you, we’d never leave you alone. If you want to stop, we’ll figure something out together, you hear me?” The way she looked into his eyes made him understand that she really meant every single word of it.

Family. He had a family with them.

Peter felt silly tearing up in the middle of Victoria’s Secret, so he pulled her into his arms and hid his face in her neck.

“Thank you. I needed to hear that,” he muttered, as she squeezed him a little tighter, before pushing him away.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get all teary-eyed on me, come on, you’ll ruin my reputation.” She looked around, sniffing, then stuck her hands in her pockets. Peter laughed halfheartedly, drying the corner of his eyes. “C’mon, there are panties to be bought.”

They spent a couple of hours searching the store, but in the end he found the perfect set. He bought some other pieces, too, for his feed, people had been asking for lingerie a lot lately, after a slightly weird phase of cat ears and tails. Once they left Victoria’s Secret, Peter was nervous because he had to tell MJ at least part of the truth to get her help with the second part of Tony’s request.

“So, listen,” he started and she turned to him, happily sipping her large coffee as they walked down the street. “I have this subscriber. He’s, like, a rich, old dude who always sends me tips and stuff. Anyway, he gave me some money and asked me to buy something nice and pose for him, but like, not in a sexual way. He wants to see me clothed.” She frowned, staring at him suspiciously. “Um. I was wondering if you could help me with that?”

She was silent for a few seconds, just looking at him with narrowed eyes. He looked away discreetly, trying to avoid her mind-reading skills.

“Should I be worried?” She asked, finally. He shook his head and chuckled nervously, waving a hand dismissively.

“He’s harmless, just some lonely, old dude. So, will you help?” He looked at her expectantly. She was still frowning and definitely knew something was up, but she nodded anyway, to Peter’s relief.

“What do you have in mind?” MJ asked and resumed her stroll down the street, Peter had to jog a little to keep up.

“Something expensive and beautiful,” He quoted Tony, like an idiot, because he honestly had no idea what that meant.

“That’s oddly specific and somehow not helpful at all.” She lifted an eyebrow and looked around the busy street. “How expensive are we talking about?”

“I’m not sure. Very?” He answered nervously, and, yet again, she looked looked like she wanted to rip the truth out of him, but she also knew that was not the way to go with him.  

“How much did this guy give you?”

“Um. for – five thousand dollars.” He stuttered. He couldn’t bring himself to tell her the actual amount, because it sounded absolutely insane and she would worry unnecessarily.

“Holy shit!? Fuck, why aren’t I doing porn?!” She screeched and Peter hurried to put his hands over her mouth, because at least three people turned around to look at them.

“Don’t even joke about that, you hear me? You have a bright future ahead of you, don’t fuck it up,” he told her seriously and she looked like she wanted to argue just for the sake of being annoying, but something in the way he looked at her must have made her realize he meant it.

“Chill, I’m joking.” She patted his shoulder and looked away. “So. Five thousand dollars? We can work with that.”

He was a little scared of the weird gleam in her eyes, but followed her anyway.

They spent the rest of the afternoon shopping, it was a lot of fun and he even got her a pair of shoes she kept staring longingly at. She was worried they would go over the budget because she wanted him to save some of the money, but he assured her he could afford it. They managed to put together a great outfit that he was very confident about and then called Ned to meet them for dinner in the evening.

Later, they took the subway home and, for a while, he felt like a normal 20-year-old guy – happy, weightless and just a little heartbroken, like everyone was bound to be at some point in life. He was going to be okay, he realized. That thought hit him like a punch in the face and it felt fucking awesome.

He rested his head on Ned’s shoulder with a sigh of relief, feeling the warmth of MJ’s hand on his thigh.

It was around midnight when he got home, which for him was still a little early, he had developed the terrible habit of going to bed well after two in the morning – he blamed Tony, but to be fair, many of his subscribers were mostly active around that time as well. He debated whether or not he should start working on Tony’s requests, he was a little tired from a long day of walking around carrying bags, but also surprisingly eager to show the older man what he got for him.

He took the Victoria’s Secret bag and displayed the new outfit on the bed. It was a simple, but beautiful lingerie set. What Peter loved most about it was the fabric – it was made of deep red satin, smooth and glossy, and it felt simply amazing on the skin.

He decided to try it on, just to make sure it fit properly.

The top was a delicate bralette, two little triangles only big enough to hide his nipples and a little bit of his pecs. It was the perfect size for him, it sat flush with his skin, no unflattering cup gaps. The panties were tiny, Peter wasn’t too sure about those back in the store, he was worried not everything would fit in it. It did, but just barely, but it actually worked in his favor, in his humble opinion. Lastly, he put on the garter belt, which was just a thin piece of fabric that went around his waist, with two straps that hung down to clasp onto two elastic bands that went around his thighs.

Since Tony said red and gold, he also put on a thick, golden choker, just to see how it would look.

Once he was dressed, he went to check in the mirror. He bit his lower lip, running his hand over the fabric that covered his chest. It felt really smooth, and the way it brushed against his nipples sent shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes and imagined it was Tony’s hands on his body. They looked strong enough to hurt, but he imagined they would be gentle with him, as they traced a path from his collarbone to his neck, to wrap themselves around his throat – but not tight enough to choke him, just a promise.

He sighed, as if to check that he could still breath under the pressure, and slowly slid his hands down from his neck, brushing his hard nipples on their way down to the front of the panties – God, it was so smooth...

For some reason, he imagined Tony would be a gentle lover. Maybe it was the way he talked to him, always so charming, all sweetheart and baby, all praise and compliments. Maybe it was the way he never demanded anything, only asked nicely, all please and thank you.  

Tony wouldn’t ruin him, like he promised so many times in those last few weeks, he would fuck him long and slow, raspy voice whispering sweet praise in his ear, rough hands holding him down, hips snapping with each unrelenting thrust.

He bit his lips, knees buckling as he felt the front of the panties getting wet, while his leaking cock struggled to get free.

Well, then.

He grabbed his camera from the closet and positioned it on a tripod in front of the bed, just a few feet away, and programmed it to take pictures every five seconds. He sat on the bed, facing the camera, feet still on the floor, and just closed his eyes for a minute, letting a sigh escape his lips as the fantasy from before filled his mind again.

He spread his legs and his fingers reached down to the front of his panties again. His cock felt impossibly hard, straining against the delicate fabric, dark pink tip peeking out of over the top of the tiny underwear. He touched himself slowly, hips rocking lightly to match the pace of his own hand, as he listened to the clicks of the pictures being taken.

He had to force himself to stop, before he lost control, and moved to kneel on the bed, with his side facing the camera, and lowered his chest until it was touching the mattress, letting his back curve in a sinful arch, head turned to the side, staring right at the lens. At Tony. Imagining what he would do if he were there.

He sat back on his heels and turned his back to the camera, spreading his knees, each of his hands grabbing one ass cheek, pulling them apart, only a thin, barely there strip of fabric hiding his nakedness. He looked over his shoulder and waited for the camera to take at least a couple of pictures.

Next, he laid on his back, side facing the camera again, left hand rubbing one nipple over the silky fabric, as the right one reached down the front of the panties, to finally give himself some sort of relief. He let out an almost pained moan as he wrapped a hand around his cock, pumping it slowly, once, twice, but all that teasing was driving him a little insane.

He knew he should probably take a few more pictures, but he also knew wouldn’t last much longer.

He got off the bed and went to the dresser where he kept all of his “work stuff”. He grabbed a tube of lube and a vibrator that was neither too small, nor too big, it was a size Peter was comfortable with.

He switched the camera to video mode, pressed record and resumed his position on the bed, knees on the bed, holding his lower body up, and chest resting on the mattress. He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto his fingers, pushed the panties a little to the side and circled his hole gently, slowly, because that was how he imagined Tony would do it. Those big, rough hands would have grabbed him by the hips, put him in that exact position, before teasing him mercilessly.

He moaned quietly and closed his eyes, rubbing slow circles around his rim, pressing a little against his entrance, but not hard enough to breach it. He felt his cock pulsing, begging for attention, but he didn’t dare to touch it, not yet.

“Tony, please...” He whined, pushing his hips back against his own hand, he was so lost in his fantasy he almost forgot he didn’t need to beg. Almost. “I need you...”

Gently, he started pushing one finger inside, knuckle by knuckle, he was so aroused he barely felt the burn, just delicious pressure that made his eyes roll to the back of his head. He started fucking himself on his finger, feeling the muscles around it slowly make way.

“’Been thinking about you, Tony…” he rasped out, hips pushing back against his hand. “Can’t stop thinking ‘bout you...” When he felt loose enough, he pushed another finger inside, the stretch becoming a little more noticeable as he slowly scissored himself open. He got on all fours and turned his back to the camera to give Tony a better view, all spread out for him, and kept fucking himself, picking up the pace once just those two fingers weren’t enough. “Fuck, daddy, need you so bad...”

He eased the fingers out of himself, sighing at the loss, and reached for the vibrator that was sitting on the bed and turned to face the camera again. He knelt on the bed and, with one hand, he propped the vibrator up on the mattress, holding it down from behind him, as with the other hand he guided its tip to his already abused hole.

He flicked the switch and it vibrated to life, nudging against his hole before finally slipping in. Peter’s breath hitched at the intrusion, feeling the delicious burn on his lower back, as he moved his hips up and down slowly, trying to push more of it inside with each painful thrust.

“Fuck me, Tony,” he begged, as his free hand finally reached for his neglected cock, pumping it hard and fast, matching the maddening pace his hips set. He lost all sense of rhythm when he felt the tip of the vibrator finally – finally – reach his prostate and he pushed it even further in, until the pressure against the bundle of nerves became too much and he exploded in one of the best orgasms he had had in a long, long time. “Oh, f-fuck!” His vision went dark for a second as he let himself fall back on the bed, wasted.

He spent almost ten minutes just lying there, trying to catch his breath and regain consciousness. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt like that, he was boneless, floaty, completely satisfied. It was honestly the best he felt in months.

When his legs stopped shaking, he got up and headed straight to the shower, still feeling a little dizzy and weak, but he wasn’t complaining.

Once he was finished, he debated whether he should just go to bed or send Tony what he had, but with the way he was feeling, he knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep so easily. So decided to send at least the pictures right away, even though it was nearing 3AM. Peter knew Tony was probably up, the man did say that he was an insomniac and that he sometimes went days without any real sleep, so it wasn’t a surprise when he answered just a few minutes after Peter sent them.

“Holy fuck, Peter!!” Peter bit his lower lip, burying his face in the pillow to hide his blush, even though he was alone in his room.“What the fuck, baby, it’s three in the morning, are you trying to fucking kill me?!”

“So you like them?” He asked with feigned innocence.

“I fucking love them, you little tease, these are hands down my favorites yet. I swear I’m gonna have them framed and hung in my workshop and I’ll spend the rest of my fucking days just writing odes to you.” Peter giggled into the pillow, turning on his side to get more comfortable on the bed.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” He joked lightly, blushing again, which was stupid, but he couldn’t help it.

“Fuck no! You’re something else, kitten, and you don’t even know it.” Peter suppressed a smile, biting his lower lip.

“Are you touching yourself right now, daddy?”

“To be honest, I’m so fucking hard I think I’m gonna come instantly if I even brush my fingers on my cock. I’m literally just staring at the pictures right now and worrying I’m gonna come untouched just from that.” Peter laid on his stomach and bit the pillow, gently rocking his hips against the bed.

“That’s so hot. Can I see it?”

Seconds later, there was a video in the chat. He played it immediately and, sure enough, Tony wasn’t kidding. His cock was rock hard, throbbing, the head was an angry purple, already glistening with pre-cum. Tony was just holding it at the base, not daring to touch it, and the whole thing almost made Peter hard again, but he was really exhausted.

“Fuck, daddy, I really wish I could help you with that.”

“Oh, you don’t even know what I wish.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a few minutes and Peter figured he had gone to sleep, but then his phone beeped, alerting him to another message from him. It was, of course, a picture of Tony’s spent cock, resting against his belly, which was covered in come, so much of it Peter’s mouth watered.

“Was it good, daddy?”

“The best, sweetheart. Thank you. I’m gonna sleep like a baby today.” Peter chuckled. Tony always said that was high praise coming from someone who hardly ever slept and the younger man took his word for it.

“Goodnight, Tony. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Looking forward to it, Pete.”

He knew he was fucked the second he tried to suppress a small smile, but couldn’t.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Can we pleaaaaaase have some chris freakout and kauri looking after him? Like maybe the first time chris ever really has a meltdown near kauri and kauri helps him or just freaks out himself just ahhhh i love these two

CW: Description of gunshot, PTSD flashback to parental death, meltdown, panic attack, some references to conditioning/pet whump, negative stimming

It’s just some asshole kids playing with fireworks, that’s all. That’s all it is, and Kauri would have been more careful, but he hadn’t known there was anything he needed to be careful for. 

He’s sitting on the grass at a park sending Jake texts to distract him from studying, playing a game they do sometimes where they tell a story with emojis alone and then the other one records a voice-text trying to guess what the story is, and then the other one says how much they got right. 

He brought Chris here because he discovered this park has a whole wood-and-metal adult playground, with uneven bars like the ones in the videos of gymnasts Chris watches on Jake’s laptop sometimes, plus a climbing wall and all kinds of things.

Chris is swinging back and forth with an easy sort of confidence, smiling to himself and occasionally checking to see if Kauri is looking as he swings himself up and over the bar, seems to hang in the air for a second despite the pull of gravity, and then back down again.

Like a pendulum, Chris swings for momentum, and then he lets go and catches the next bar, laughing, throwing his boundless, endless energy into the movements his body knows even though his brain doesn’t, and Kauri takes a second to watch him switch directions and swing back up onto the higher bar, throwing himself full-throttle, and he’ll come home scraped up and probably bruised and Kauri will have to explain to Nat that it’s impossible to want to stop him when he’s like this, all his soft nervousness shed in the pursuit of something that makes him - simply, and uncomplicatedly - happy.

Especially when he’d started out so sad.

In the parking lot nearby, a bunch of teenagers not much younger than Chris have been fucking around with fireworks the whole time. Boys with knobby elbows and an awkward self-consciousness bragging about who does the stupidest things, girls with long legs and braces laughing together, shining hair mixing in red and brown and blond as they lean into each other. 

Chris looked at them, when they first showed up, eight people stuffed into somebody’s two-door sports car climbing out like clowns at a circus, and Kauri saw the look on his face and knew it for what it was, the longing for a life he can’t get back.

He’s just a kid, and these are just kids, but there’s an ocean between them that Chris can’t overcome.

Even though he looks like them, has the same awkward gait, the same way of hunching his shoulders as if trying to be invisible, the same heavy, woe-is-me sighs and eye-rolls when he feels safe enough to push back at Nat and Jake like any other kid would... even though he looks like them, he isn’t them. 

He’s a teenager, and he has more in common with Kauri than he does anyone else. He and Kauri have a shared wealth of pain, and all he has in common with those kids now is that, once upon a time, he might have been like them.

But he wants to be like them still, it was written all over his face. 

Kauri hadn’t said anything. He’s not-... he’s not good at that, at bringing Chris out of himself. He’s not Jake, who Chris will rip himself open for, let out all his thoughts and let Jake rearrange the jumbled parts.

He’s not Nat, who can simply sense Chris’s need for a mother and give him one.

He’s not even Antoni, who can show his care somehow in simply the depth of feeling in his slightly narrowed eyes, the well of emotion he keeps there, that he doesn’t have to speak to show. 

He’s just Kauri.

He’s just here.

So he just let Chris have his moment, watched the wistfulness work itself across his expression, his soft slight rocking, listened to his low quiet hum. 

Kauri watched Chris make himself be silent, and go still, until the desire to fit in passed. He should have had an answer, some ready-made platitude or piece of comfort, but he didn’t. 

After a moment - two moments - three... Chris turned and went to the exercise equipment. It had taken a while, but he lost himself, eventually, in the movement, the swing of his body from one space to another, the strain of muscles pushed to their limits in ways he still loves.

Kauri watched him forget, after a while, and find happiness in what his body could do instead of what his brain can’t.

The kids had brought out fireworks from the trunk of the car, and Chris’s climb up a fake rock wall had a soundtrack of hissing and fizzing and pops. 

They must have pulled out the big stuff, eventually. 

Kauri’s lost in grinning as he looks at a return text from Jake when there’s suddenly a sharp, deafening crack in the air that makes Kauri jump nearly three feet, scrambling onto his feet out of sheer surprise.

He doesn’t hear the thump as Chris, mid-swing from one bar to another, tenses, misses the catch, and hits the ground flat on his back.

The teenagers cheer, clapping each other on the back, yelling fuck yeah do it again, and as Kauri catches his breath a second one goes off, a third, a fourth. They’re too close together, and there are people yelling at them to cut that shit out.

The kids laugh and shout and flip off the adults telling them to stop, emboldened by the adrenaline rush, by the sheer number of them, by the way a few other people are cheering happily, too.

Kauri’s heart races for reasons he can’t fathom and he snaps, “What the fuck, at least warn us, you little shits!”

“Fuck off!” A boy yells back, but he’s not the one who catches Kauri’s eye. One of the girls off to the side isn’t smiling anymore, but staring outright behind Kauri, eyes widening, and it’s not at the fireworks.

Another one goes off, the crack making Kauri’s ears ring all over again, but this time he hears the sound of a high-pitched cry of fear behind him and recognizes the voice.

Chris.

“Oh, shit,” The girl says, and it’s her voice that kills the sharp laughter of the boys, who look even as Kauri turns to see for himself. 

Chris, lying on his back on the ground, gasps for air that he can’t pull into his lungs, his hands up to his throat as if clawing at-

At his collar-

Kauri isn’t anything big - he’s not Jake, the hero who can hold off the terror of the light with the sheer size of his body, who will come home with a black eye and a broken rib and carry Chris up the stairs anyway. He’s not Nat with her hugs and blankets and ready dark spaces. He’s not Antoni, he’s not Leila he’s not Krista he’s not anything but Kauri, who can’t do anything, who breaks all his promises who can’t be trusted to be where he says he’ll be who isn’t a good person who isn’t trained for this-

Nobody is trained for this, Kauri hears Nat say inside his mind. She wasn’t talking about Chris, then, but-

Nobody has a map for how to walk out of hell, Kauri. But you’ve still got your compass. Go north.

He runs for Chris even as he hears other people start to notice, as Chris finally pulls in air and rolls onto his stomach, curling into a ball, hands over his head, as the first croaking breaths become louder and louder moans, rocking back and forth on the ground.

On more of the fireworks goes off and Chris screams, clapping his hands over his ears.

“Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit-” One of the teenagers says from behind Kauri, but he doesn’t even bother to tell them to go fuck themselves, he just drops to his knees next to Chris and puts a hand to his back. “Oh shit somebody’s gonna call the cops, what’s the fuck is wrong with-”

“I don’t know!”

“‘m sorry, I’m, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry sorry sorry sorry, I’m, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t, I moved, I, I, I I I-I, I moved, I moved, moved, shouldn’t move, no, no no no, no, no, no...” Chris’s voice is barely his own, it’s higher and lower at once, alternating between crying and the low moans, and he shudders at Kauri’s hand but doesn’t pull away. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry, I’m, I’m I’m-I’m, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, Chris,” Kauri whispers, but Chris doesn’t seem to hear him or react. The back of his shirt is layered with dirt over the black fabric, and it comes off on Kauri’s hand as he rubs frantic circles there, not knowing what to do, how to pull him out of himself. “You’re all right, nothing to be sorry for, come on, let’s, let’s get up-”

“Hey, is he, uh, he gonna be okay?” One of the teenagers has nervously edged up next to him, a boy with scraped up knees and long stringy hair. “We didn’t-... we were just screwin’ around, we didn’t think-”

“No, you sure fucking didn’t think, did you?” Kauri snaps, and the boy flinches back from the violent anger in his voice. Kauri doesn’t do angry, he’s scared of angry, but it bubbles up inside of him and he can’t stop it. “Did you think for a fucking second that you’re not the only assholes in the world? Huh?”

“Woah, um, we’re-... we’re sorry, dude, but-”

Chris groans and bangs his head into the ground, smacking his hands palms-down into the earth beneath him, wailing and Kauri has never heard him sound like this before. The words he was stammering before have somehow devolved entirely into the sounds, and Kauri’s heart pounds as he watches Chris pull so far into himself in fear that he has no idea how to get him out.

“Is he-... is he okay, or-”

“Does he fucking look okay?!” Kauri’s voice is so loud he’s suddenly scared of himself, and fights the urge to soothe, calm, appease, apologize, moving to get ahold of Chris’s hands as he pulls at his hair, holding them tightly, feeling the way Chris’s hands shake under his grip, trembling long fingers.

“Sorry,” The kid mumbles, and backs away to his friends, but one of the girls hasn’t run but come closer, and Kauri looks up to see there are people staring at them, men and women watching them, and Kauri-

He should run.

He should leave Chris here and run, this is a risk, people might call the cops, the cops might unclip his bracelet, he might get turned in. He should leave Chris here and call Jake to come get him and hide, and get away, and keep himself safe, and-

He tightens his grip on Chris’s hands and fights his own rising panic as hard as he can.

“Can I-... can I do anything to help?” The girl asks, leaning over with his hands on her knees, watching them. “To help him?”

“I don’t-... I don’t know,” Kauri answers, helplessly. “He’s never done this with me before. I don’t know what to do.” 

Chris rocks back and forth, not pulling away from Kauri’s grip, and looks up. His forehead is smeared with dirt from banging his head on the ground and his eyes are full of tears and fear and guilt. “No,” He moans, closing them again, tears cutting tracks through the dust and dirt on his cheeks. “No, no, no... no, no... no, no, no...”

“I’ll... I’ll get-... I’ll get a damp cloth or something,” The girl says, hesitantly. Her friends are loading back into the car in a hurry, and they call out to her but she ignores them, her own jaw set, running for some public bathrooms a hundred feet away and pulling her hoodie off as she goes.

The car full of kids pulls out, all but spinning their tires in their hurry to escape the consequences. But two others have stayed, one boy and one girl, and they move to Kauri’s side, too.

A man and woman who were walking their dog come over as well, and Kauri feels them pressing in on all sides, closing off his avenues of escape. He could still run. He could still go. He can still leave-

But he can’t leave Chris.

“The sound of the fireworks did that?” The man with the dog on a leash asks, and Kauri nods, not trusting himself to speak, letting go of Chris so he can take his face in his hands, and Chris looks at him but doesn’t see him. 

He’s not Jake. He’s not Nat. He can’t do this. He doesn’t know how to help anyone else, he can barely take care of himself, he doesn’t know anything and he’s the stupidest fucking person Chris could ever need help from-

You have to stop letting his voice sound like yours, Kauri.

“Chr-... Chris,” Kauri manages, his voice trembling. Anyone could call the cops of them, anyone could suspect. His body screams at him to run, to get away, to leave Chris, to go to find somewhere new to find somewhere safe to hide. It takes everything he has to stay right where he is, rubbing Chris’s cheekbones with his thumbs. “Chris, can you hear me?”

Chris, eyes still closed, leans into the touch of his hands, and it’s not an answer, but Kauri has to hope he’s trying. 

“Okay. We-... we need to get out of here, Chris, okay? I need-... I need to get out of here.”

No, this isn’t what will make Chris feel better. He can’t do this.

He has to do this.

“You’re okay. Um, um, can you-... can you open your eyes and look at me?”

There’s a long pause, and Chris’s coppery eyelashes rise, wide green eyes stare past Kauri with terror and only slowly seem to focus on him. “I’m, I’m so sorry,” He whispers, lips pulling back from his teeth, face reddened and dirty. “’m so, so, so so so so, so, so-... so, so sorry, so, so sorry-”

“Sssshhhhh, it’s okay. You’re all right. It was just some fireworks, it’s okay.” The girl reappears with the sleeve of her hoodie soaked with water from the water fountains, and Kauri takes it when she holds it out with a faint smile and uses the sleeve to wipe the dirt from Chris’s face, to cool the flush of his skin. “I know you’re scared. I’m going to call someone to come get us, all right?”

“No, no, no, no-no, no, no one’s, no one’s c-coming,” Chris whispers, whimpers really, and he moves forward to collapse against Kauri, rocking into him, burying his head into Kauri’s shoulder, the crook of his neck. “I, I, I waited all, all, all-all night, no one’s coming, no one, no one’s c-coming, nobody, no one, and they g-got-... so c-cold-...”

Kauri hitches in a breath and slides his arms around Chris, letting the girl take her hoodie back, aware - too aware - of the growing crowd around them. Chris’s words devolve again, fall apart into moaning sobs, tears soaking the fabric of Kauri’s t-shirt, his fingers twisting and clutching into the cotton, pulling, rocking, in constant motion even now in the guilt twisted up in his fear. 

“They, they got s-so cold,” Chris whispers, and Kauri looks slowly up at the man with the dog, who is staring wide-eyed down at them. “So, so, so, she got so, she got s-so cold-”

“Holy fuck,” The woman next to the man says. Her face is ash under her skin, gray around the edges.

Anyone could call the cops of them right now. He doesn’t know that they haven’t yet. Sirens could start any moment, or maybe WRU will just come themselves with a big white van and needles and it will all be over, everything he fought to build of himself, because of Chris.

No. That’s not fair.

He chooses to care, that’s what he does, that’s who Kauri is. He cares, and he... has to be stronger than he is scared.

Kauri steadies his voice, holding Chris as tightly at he can, trembling against him. “I need you to call a number for me,” He says, carefully. 

The man nods, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket. “Yeah, uh, sure. What’s-... what number-”

“Call...” Kauri closes his eyes. “Call 555-4467, and tell the person who answers that... that Kauri needs her here now. And... that it’s not for me.”

Jake’s too far away, an hour even by car from one side of the city to the other, and he doesn’t even have his own car, yet, he’s still saving. Nat’s too far away, the safehouse is a half-hour at least. The only person he can think of on this side of town...

She won’t help, she’d never, she’d-

Nat’s voice, in his mind, a memory of her calmly reminding him, you have a compass, Kauri, and it’s gotten you this far. What does your intuition tell you?

His experiences tell him to run and don’t look back.

His fear tells him she’ll hang up the phone.

His intuition tells him she’ll come.

The man nods and dials, and Kauri closes his eyes and holds Chris tightly, listens to his words, lets him wail into his shoulder as the man and woman warn everyone else away, the remaining teenagers get Chris drinks of water from the water fountain that he takes with only the barest sense that he even sees them there at all. 

It takes twelve minutes from when Jenna gets the call to when her car pulls up at the park.

She walks out to them, over the grass, and Kauri has himself tensed and ready for the latest barrage of loathing, but all Jenna says is, “Can you get him to stand up on his own?”

“I-I don’t know,” Kauri says, and slides his hands under Chris’s arms. Chris clutches him more tightly, shaking his head, refusing to let go, and Kauri takes a breath and slowly shifts back onto his heels, half-standing, half-pulling Chris up with him. The man with the dog rushes forward to help, and so does one of the teenagers. “He heard those really loud fireworks and just... lost his shit, I just-”

“Yeah,” Jenna says, voice flat and pointedly uncaring. She gets Chris’s other side once he’s up, and Kauri thanks the people who stayed with them, tells the teenagers he hopes they get home safe.

The girl who first saw Chris only shrugs. “Not a thing. I’ve got a phone and a mom, we’ll get home, she’ll come get us.”

Chris hiccups and whimpers, and Kauri and Jenna move him to Jenna’s car. They get Chris to lay down in the backseat with his head on Kauri’s lap, Kauri’s hand running through his hair. Kauri closes his eyes, and says, softly, “Listen, Jenna, I wouldn’t-... wouldn’t have called if-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jenna says, pulling away from the parking spot without looking in the rearview mirror, without looking to see Kauri in her backseat. 

“I... I really wouldn’t have called you but nobody else is on this side of town, and-”

“I said don’t worry about it.” Jenna rolls her eyes. “Back to Nat’s place? That’s where this kid is staying, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Chris sniffles against him, and Kauri shushes him softly, carding fingers gently through his sweaty hair. Jenna drives, taking the long way, the winding curves around the city to throw off anyone who might try to follow them. Kauri’s phone vibrates and he wonders, suddenly, how many texts Jake has sent that Kauri never answered. 

“So I guess you can be s-something other than a bitch when you want to be,” Kauri says, voice shaking, as close as he can get to a thank-you with her.

Jenna snorts, and briefly meets his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Bitches don’t get taken back,” She says, firmly. “We stay free. I’d rather be a bitch to Romantics than a pet, get it?”

“Got it,” Kauri says, but this is still probably the nicest she’s ever been to him, and he calls it a victory. “Why are you-... why did you agree to come?”

“Because of what that guy said. He mentioned it was fireworks. That’s why I’m here.”

Kauri’s eyebrows furrow. “Yeah... fireworks set him off. The big ones that crack really loud.”

Jenna is silent for a while, and then says softly, “Gunshots.”

“What?”

“There’s gunshots in that kid’s head. If he doesn’t remember them when he comes back, they’re from before, from whatever got him to sign himself up.”

“How do you know?”

Jenna makes a turn and drives over the big bridge through the center of the city, sunlight shining on water on either side, the swooping cables of the bridge making curving shadows inside the car. 

“Because,” She says, heavily, “There’s gunshots in my head, too.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

[preciseprose]

From Nightmares to Dreams (Part 1/3)

Fandom: The Owl House

Chapter synopsis:  Luz has a horrible morning which Amity helps remedy.

Author’s note: This fic is the first long-form work of fiction I have written in five years and would not have been possible without the encouragement and support of @sterling-jay​.  This fic was inspired, however, by @notbirdofprey​ who asked me: “How do you think Luz and Amity will get together?”  Please be aware that my answer to this question involves a lot of angst on both Luz’s and Amity’s part; and, as a result, this fic is relatively angsty.  I hope you enjoy it.

- - -

Luz jolted awake, feeling dizzy and uncomfortably warm.  She threw her blanket off her and sat up to rub her face.  It was slick with some sort of wetness.  “Oh,” she groaned.  She must have been crying in her sleep.  Again.

Suddenly aware of herself, she looked down at her feet.  King wasn’t there and her door was closed.  He must had left at some point during the night.  She laid back down.  “At least he didn’t see me this time,” she said quietly.

She prodded around her cot for her phone, finding it after a few moments.  She sniffled and wiped her eyes again before powering the phone up.  The right-top corner of her lock screen stated the obvious: “No Service.”  After hesitating for a few seconds, she opened her messages.

She spent a few minutes reading through old conversations with her mom.  It didn’t make her feel better.  If anything, it made her feel guilty.  Her mother’s messages were caring and warm.  She asked if she was having a good evening, if she liked that day’s camp activities, if she was enjoying the food, if she was looking forwards to tomorrow, and so on.  In contrast, Luz’s replies were generally short and impersonal.  A lot of yeahs, yeps, and nopes.  An occasional emoji.  Few genuine responses.

She put her phone down and looked up to the ceiling.  Even with the moonlight streaming in from her window, it was hard to make the beams out.  After a few minutes of holding back, she let herself cry.

“I’m sorry, Mami.  I’m sorry I can’t tell you that I’m okay.  I’m sorry I can’t tell you that I’m safe.  That I’m not missing.  That I didn’t run away.”  Her tears grew heavier.  “I’m sorry I lied to you.  I’m sorry I’m making you worry.  I’m sorry for being a bad daughter.  You’ve always tried to be a good mom and you don’t deserve this.”

Luz cried until her eyes burned.  When she destroyed the teleporter door, she had thought Eda might be able to send her home using magic or by taking her to some special place on the isles.  But several weeks ago, Eda had sat down with her on the roof of the Owl House and explained the gravity of her situation: that the door was the only way she knew of to travel between the human realm and the demon realm, and that without the ability to cast spells she wasn’t sure if she would be able to send her home.

She had only barely stopped herself from breaking down.  It helped that Eda had taken her hands and, looking directly into her eyes, promised that she would do everything in her power to try to return her home someday.  And she had kept that promise so far, spending several hours every other day pouring over books with Lilith.

She wished Eda’s promise was enough to keep her fears under control, but it just wasn't.  She kept a decent face up when around Eda and her friends.  But when she was by herself, she couldn’t keep the act up.  The idea that she might never see her mother again was overwhelming and terrifying.  But even worse was the possibility that her mother might think that she disappeared on purpose.  

Eventually, her eyes ran dry.  Dawn broke soon after.  

“I guess I should get up,” she thought.  After a few minutes of sniffling and wiping her eyes, she rose from her cot, activated a few light glyphs, and dressed herself.  Once done, a realization hit her: “My eyes!  Crying makes your eyes puffy, right?”

The closest mirror was in the bathroom down the hall, but she couldn’t risk running into Lilith or King.  If she ran into either of them, they would ask questions, and Eda would find out and start worrying about her again, and she didn’t want that.  “What do I do?  What do I do?” Luz repeated to herself.

She activated another light glyph to help her think.  The light reflected off a small object lying nestled in the blanket on her cot.  Her phone.  “My phone!” she exclaimed in a hushed voice.  She walked over to her cot, snatched her phone, and unlocked it with a swipe.

“Okay, how bad could it be?”  She opened the front-facing camera.  Her stomach clenched.

Her eyes were bloodshot, and it looked like someone had filed the skin under her eyes with abomination goo.  “No, no, no, no, no.  This is bad, this is so bad.”  She pulled and pushed at the fleshy mounds trying to get them to recede.  Her attempts did nothing.

The morning sun was already starting to brighten.  She needed to act fast.  She would need to leave for Hexside within the hour and there was no way she could avoid everyone on her way out.  “What do I do?  What do I do!”

Luz had no idea how to do anything involving her face.  She had never been very interested in make-up and even she had been she didn’t think she could just slap some concealer on her face (not that she had any) and call it a day.  She needed help, fast.

“Okay, okay.”  She looked to the phone in her hand.  “No that’s not going to help, I don’t have service here.”  She tossed the phone on her cot and started pacing around the room.  Muffled sounds began to emanate through her bedroom walls.  The other residents of the Owl House were out of their rooms.

“Oh, I know!”  Luz ran over to her school bag and dredged out the small scroll Eda had given her for her birthday.  “Penstagram!”  She tapped on the scroll and it bounced out of her hand and into the air, unfurled and glowing faintly purple.  She grabbed it, thinking about her next move.

“I can’t ask Gus or Willow for help,” Luz thought, grimacing.  They were already worried about her enough.  Just yesterday, Willow had pressed her about why she had been especially quiet lately.  It took their entire walk home to convince her that she was just stressed about homework and helping Eda learn glyph magic.

She didn’t think she could ask Viney or Skara for help either.  She had gotten to know each girl better through classes at Hexside, but she didn’t really know either of them that well.  And this was a bit too personal to spring on either of them.

That left Amity.

Luz blinked and took a long breath.  She had been spending more and more time with Amity lately.  On one of her better days last week, she had convinced Eda to let her, Amity, Gus, and Willow to have a “Azura Movie Night Sleepover Extravaganza!” at the Owl House after Eda found a DVD player in a trash worm.  She and Amity had ended up cuddling on the couch under a blanket.  And it felt so nice.  

Amity was warm, and soft, and her hair smelt like wildflowers and sea salt, and Luz had been terrified that her heart was going to jab through her chest and explode on Amity’s back.  But eventually, somehow, she managed to fall asleep with her in her arms.  But when she woke up, Amity had already dressed in her day clothes and was eating breakfast with Eda.  Every time she had tried to talk to her since then Amity had kept the conversation short or turned her head away and said she had something she needed to do or gave some other reason to leave quickly.  Luz didn’t know what to think of it.

But that was then, and this was now.  Luz had no one else to turn too, and out of all her friends she figured Amity would be the most likely to know how to deal with her situation.  She pulled up Amity’s profile and sent a DM.

@glyphwitch (07:03:51): Amity I need your help!!!  IT’S URGENT!!!!

@witchchick128 (07:04:27): Luz, what is it?  Are you okay?

@glyphwitch (07:05:11): I don’t have time to explain but I need to get rid of these HUGE bags I have under my eyes (don’t ask please) and I have no idea how to deal with them but I need eda to not find out about them and I don’t know what to do and I thought you might and I just don’t want to worry eda about me so please help me

Luz snaped a picture of her face to Amity and dropped herself onto her cot.  One minute passed.  Luz heard Eda and Lilith having some sort of argument in the kitchen.  They were constantly arguing about one thing or another these days.  Another minute passed.  The argument was now a three-way shouting match between Eda, Lilith, and Hooty.  Based solely on volume, Hooty was winning.

Suddenly, the scroll vibrated against her leg.  She snatched it up and tapped it.  Again, it sprang to life.

@witchchick128 (07:08:34): I’m so sorry, Luz.  Mother pulled me away for a tuft of my hair...

@witchchick128 (07:09:13): So, are they like that because of a magical or non-magical cause?

@witchchick128 (07:09:32): You eyes, I mean.  Sorry, I wasn’t clear.

@witchchick128 (07:09:43): Your*

Luz laughed despite her situation.

@glyphwitch (07:10:12): non-magical

@glyphwitch (07:10:39): I was, uhhh.  crying.  a lot…  but I’m okay now!  really

@witchchick128 (07:11:16): Okay.  Do you have any abrasion ointment from the Healing Coven?

@glyphwitch (07:11:42): no.  I can’t leave my room or the others might see me

@witchchick128 (07:12:15): Alright.  Let me think.

@witchchick128 (07:12:58): You haven’t discovered any glyphs that cast any illusion spells yet, right?

@glyphwitch (07:13:09): no, not yet

@witchchick128 (07:13:41):  Okay, so you can’t conceal your eyes with magic.  But I’ve seen you summon columns of ice before.  Can you use your glyphs to make a bunch of small ice cubes?

@glyphwitch (07:13:53): yeah, I think so

@witchchick128 (07:14:38): Okay, do that.  Then get two of your shirts and use them to make two cold compresses.   Hold them under your eyes for five minutes.  It should make the swelling disappear.  If anyone asks you why your eyes are red, just tell them you were up late reading and only got a few hours of sleep.

@glyphwitch (07:14:56): oh my god, thank you Amity!!!

@glyphwitch (07:15:09): you're the best!

Luz shoved the scroll in her bag, then pulled out a pencil and piece of paper and got to work.  After a few-second’s thought, she drew a moderately-sized plant glyph surrounded by three inter-connected tiny ice glyphs.  She activated the ice glyphs first, creating three tall but slender pillars of ice.  Then, concentrating her intent into her hand, she activated the plant glyph.  A thick vine with several stems emerged from the paper and wrapped its tendrils around each ice pillar, crushing them into small pieces.

“Yes, it worked!” she said joyfully, impressed with herself.  “What next?  Oh right, the shirts.”  She dashed over to her dirty clothes pile, grabbed the two least objectionable shirts visible, then dashed back over to her cot.  Working quickly, she made two compresses using the ice littering the floor, lied back on her cot, and pressed the compresses onto her eyes.

A minute passed without interruption.  Then Luz heard her door handle jiggle, followed by a quiet thud.  She heard it a second time, and then a third.  The fourth time she understood.  King was trying to open the door.  Before she could call out, she heard a solid impact with the door, followed by a metallic click and a final small thud.

The door began to open.  “Luz, get up!  It’s almost time for…”

Acting on pure instinct she streaked out of bed and flew against the door, slamming it shut and screaming, “King, don’t come in!  I’m naked!”  As she spoke, she heard something hard impact the wall across the hall.

“Ow!  Jeez, I get it!  Gross!  How was I supposed to know!?” King shouted through the door.  “I get that you wanted to protect me from a potentially scarring experience, but did you have to slam the door so hard?  I can feel my brain spinning around inside of my skull!  All I wanted to tell you was that breakfast is almost ready!  Sheesh!”

“Sorry, King!  I’m uh, just.  Really self-conscious!  I didn’t mean to hurt you.”  She paused and looked behind her.  In her panic, she had strewn ice everywhere.  She rolled her eyes, sighed, and looked back to the door.  “I woke up a little late, okay?  I still need to get ready.  I’ll be down in like ten minutes.”

“Ten whole minutes!  Really!?”

“Yes, really!  And if you keep talking to me it’s going to take me even longer!”

“Ugh, fine.  Whatever, just hurry up, will you?  I’m starving and Lilith cooked today so breakfast actually looks good for once!”

She heard his little footsteps trod away.  When she was certain he was gone she locked the door and got to work reassembling the cold compresses.

[vidalinav]

Love is Bright Red, Hope is Dark Blue SNEAK PEAK

So, it seems that sneak peaks keep me accountable, because every time I posted one I finished the fic, and if that’s not some voodoo magic I don’t know what is. 

However, this hopefully will be the last fic I post before ACOSF. I’m aware that many of you will probably be logged off by the time I post, but honestly who even remembers this fic series. I’m perfectly okay with shouting to the void. I’m going to abandon every fic I said I was going to write and keep them on the back burner. This will be the first completed work I’ve ever had and I’m determined and... also very bored! (insert little emoji with the fists up) 

So, I’m going in. 

Nesta’s Love is Quiet/Cassian’s Love is Warm Masterlist

~

The picture of Nesta hangs on the living room wall. She moves and its eyes follow. She blinks and it awakens. The other her stares. Her expression a collage of painted lashes, crimson dusted skin, a rose that is cradled in her hands. This Nesta, praying to some unknown deity who never answers.  

She looks innocent. Far too innocent for the amount of horrors she’s seen... and she’s alone.

A singularity. An outlier.

The image lies off center in the middle of the wall, yet the other pictures crawl up the space like tangling vines suffocating the life out of her. Life is not painted in her eyebrows, or the color of her hair, or the red of her lips, or her pale neck. Rather, it is what is around her. The pictures that are filled with laughter and smiles and heart-wrenching happiness.

They must have taken it from her, she thinks. Poor girl.

But Nesta shakes her head. No, she never had it. It was always the others who laughed, who yelled, who joked those jokes of theirs. She might have been placed here, forced to fit, squeezed into the place they could find room for, but at the end of the day, she is merely a pretty painting tacked in Feyre’s living room wall. Beautiful… but not alive. Cold, and alone, and red with the stain of blood.

Is this what Feyre sees when Nesta skidders through her memories? If it is, she is even more certain of their foolish want to love her.

“I painted it the day you left. I think it came out beautifully, don’t you think?”

I think I look dead inside; she wants to say, turning to Feyre who leans against a table, all starry skies and none of the bleak, burning black holes.

Dead.

Dead and buried.

Feyre grimaces, taking a breath as if she’ll recite poetry in the hall. What other words will spew from the depths of her throat and croak out in sounds and syllables?

Are words even enough to describe memories turned to dust and rose-colored wounds freshly healed?

The fiery anger blooms out of Nesta’s lungs. Its laid dormant for far too long, all those winter days in the mountains trapped under frost. But, Nesta can’t respond, doesn’t know what she’d say to her little sister who means so much to her, but at the same time makes her heart ache as if it bleeds from where’s she’s stabbed her in the chest.

Nesta opens her mouth to speak...

Elain strolls in.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” She grins, grasping her forearm, pulling Nesta towards the dining room in glee. “I thought I’d show you what I made to celebrate.”

Nesta shudders at the thought, at the feeling of her sisters at her side and behind her. Huddling around her as if they mean to keep her close. Nesta thinks it feels like a prison. “Celebrate what?”

Elain looks at her oddly, “You being back—and Cassian, of course… Your health.” She adds, her brows furrowing in concern. Nesta doesn’t know what that look means.

Tell me, she wants to scream.

Elain swallows, the dandelion charm at her throat bobbing. “When Cassian carried you in, you looked so… small. Feyre and I were worried that you’d—”

“We had complete faith that you’d be safe and well again,” Feyre smiles, the mirth never reaching her eyes.

An odd phrase, Nesta thinks, for she’s never been safe or well.

Nesta squints to the table and Elain perhaps noticing the shift, moves quickly to the image of steaming casserole and piping hot buns. Dessert already sits in each corner and she wonders who exactly they’re all feeding if this is the amount of food they waste.

“The roast is still in the oven.” Her favorite.

“You’re favorite,” Elain mumbles softly—shyly, “I thought since we missed your birthday, we could celebrate now.”

That word again.

Celebrate…

Don’t they know that she rejoices in being away from them? That she finds solace in the quiet day by day. There is no obligation of sterile complacency, of beauty she can never live up to. She doesn’t need to be a good sister, a caring sister, a sister who reaches both hands out in compassion. In Windhaven, beyond Velaris, she is just Nesta. She is no one.

Nesta resists rolling her eyes or saying something snarky just because she can, just because she knows it’ll hurt. Instead, she touches the plate on the table, a fine porcelain made of blue glass. It reminds her of the chandelier she has at home, blinking and twisting like an unhindered star.

She doesn’t want to celebrate her birthday.

Feyre pulls out a chair, the noise screeching against the floor and Nesta can’t stop the harsh look she sends her way.

If they missed it, she did too.

But at her cold demeaner, Elain is quick to lure her to a seat, proclaiming that Nesta will sit beside her all evening. Perhaps, they’ll exchange stories. I want to hear everything, she pleads. Will Nesta tell her the weather then? The bitter frosts, the buried cemeteries, the avalanches that never came crashing down like she wanted. It was all too perfect, all too according to plan.

Nesta will not let them have the satisfaction.

Elain smiles crookedly, some noise that sounds both like a laugh and a cry barreling out of her lips.

Nesta half-wonders what about her now seems fragile to her little sister when she had treaded precariously past death and disinterest and yet nothing could persuade them a year ago that she wasn’t well enough— okay enough.

Nesta only looks to the stairs. The sound of rustling feet stampeding above. She can feel him even now, wants to call for him even if she abhors the thought.

Her sisters are… different when Cassian is around. More watchful, more cautious. Not as eager to touch her or to offer an array of activities that don’t at all sound pleasing to her ears. He is her guard somehow, even though he offers nothing but laughs and soft, easy smiles.

But he ambles down the stairs as if she calls him. Perhaps she does, in that hollow part of her body she still doesn’t understand. The part that whispers his name, echoes his feelings, reminds her that she is not alone.  

“Sit,” She urges lowly, moving the utensils that Elain sets down to another place setting. Cassian raises a brow but sits beside her.

His hand rests on the table and Nesta wants to know what it would seem like to these… people—her family if she placed her palm in his so openly. She clenches her fist to stop the reaching, turning her gaze away from his golden skin.

“Oh,” Elain says, noting the seat beside her taken.  

To be continued….

~

Tagged and those who will be tagged from Cassian’s Love is Warm and those who said they wanted to be tagged on everything: (let me know if this changes)

@dreaming-of-bohemian-nights , @missing-merlin, @strangeenemy, @saltydreamcollector, @midnightbluhm, @my-fan-side, @queenofillea1, @tswaney17, @gloriousinlove, @ekaterinakostrova, @thebluemartini, @anishake, @lord-douglas-the-third, @soitsgorgeous, @lolasjournal @duskandstarlight, @arinbelle, @nestaarcher0n, @allilal @mis-lil-red

~

I hate confrontation like my life depends on it, but I don’t know how to start the healing process for the sisters without some, so maybe you’ll get an outburst or two from Nesta and maybe Cassian. But ultimately it’s going to end not like the healing is complete, but rather that the healing is able to take place, ripping off band aids here. It’s going to be long and emotional. 

I read the previous chapters and omg I get so mad when I read it. It’s like physically impossible to read Nesta’s voice without being stark, ugly mad, but it is easier to write that way. Also, Feyre is about to be annoying in this but it has to happen to come full circle. But at least Cassian and Nesta will be uber cute and established! I have a day out in Velaris date for them.

If y’all have followed this story and have some burning desire to see something, let me know! It will be the last chance to do so. Because again, I’m determined to finish and I’ll NEVER write for this fic again. NEVER. But I will not write smut (unfortunately I suck at that and I try to avoid anything I suck at)

Actually let me set a date: it’s going to be posted on Wednesday by 11:59pm central time. Yell at me if it’s not lol. This will be my reaching 1000 followers gift.  

[whump-town]

Crawl Home

I thought to myself Hannah why are you so mean to Hotch? Hmm, well, I’m a self-destructive little bastard and he’s a self-destructive big bastard so I just think it’s fun to project onto him. Then I considered -- shit, why not take it out on Emily too? So, I did. 

Going to college hadn’t been nearly as difficult as leaving her soul, every good part of Emily Prentiss, behind her in Virginia. But there the pieces of her could be protected and here, in Europe working for Clyde, she can’t be sure she can offer the human parts of her that condolence. Then again, leaving for college had been leaving her mother. Freedom, at the time, she hadn’t known to its full advantage. Leaving Virginia is leaving the only family she’s ever known. The safety of girl’s nights, Dave’s expensive taste in bourbon, and the knowledge that if she had nowhere she still had them. Aaron’s couch where Jack calls her his favorite aunt and Spencer’s library so extensive she’ll never reach the bottom.

Emily is safer there with them.

The case is grueling, ripping apart wounds she thought healed and scarred over. It’s enough to make her consider calling Hotch. She gets so close, finger hovering just over her screen until she remembers that it’s probably three in the morning over there and she’ll probably wake him up. Stealing from him what little sleep he can manage and so she doesn’t call him despite the promise she made him just a few months ago. Looking into the vulnerability he’d laid out between them, needing her to be something unlike him, someone not consumed by this damned job that will take everything.

She took his hand -- rough and damp with his anxiety -- and said the words she knew he wanted to hear. Knowing that stepping foot on that plane, leaving them, was giving the job everything. It’s falling into the trap that nearly killed him and she’d watched it happen and still, she couldn’t stop it from happening to her.

Instead, she texts Garcia for a picture of Sergio and sends Dave a picture of her lunch so he can pride her on actually taking the time to at least try and eat. The food sets a little easier when he sends her some corny-ass text with an emoji he doesn’t really understand. To top it all off, Derek sends her a selfie from the bullpen where he’s actively sitting on Spencer and pinning him still for the photo. It solidifies her, the boost she needed.

See? she asks her reflection, she didn’t need to call Hotch. No need to admit defeat just yet. (and when he sends her a picture of Jack wearing the sweater she got him with the added detail that Hotch is wearing his matching one, she cries in her bathtub and reminds herself this is for the best). So this is what her freshman year roommate met by homesick…

“Clyde,” she announces, avoiding touching him as she slides past him. “After this case, I’m retiring. I’m going to go home and sleep for three days and then you expect my resignation. I’m going to go live in the Alps and hope a bear of some variation eats me after I freeze to death.” She says all this while she pours herself a cup of coffee. This is certainly a situation she’d mirrored with the likes of Hotch, Dave, Derek, and even Reid over the years. Where Clyde meets her with a raised eyebrow Hotch would have handed her his coffee and offered her a dimpled half-grin of agreeance. Dave would have taken her out for lunch. Derek would have hit her shoulder, stolen her coffee, and told her “toughen up, princess, it’s nearly Friday”.

Clyde takes a long pull from his own mug, drawing his eyebrows tight as the bitter, not properly steeped mess of his tea hits his tongue hotter than he anticipated. With a grimace he clicks his tongue, “you’ve got the vacation days.” He takes her by surprise, she wants him so desperately to be someone else. Reid’s bashful, not quite sure what he should say, face or Dave coming to sit on the edge of her desk until she caves and goes for lunch. But Clyde is Clyde is Clyde and he offers her a solution none of the others would have mentioned.

She does have time building up. Fall is rapidly approaching in Virginia and she could get home to see Henry and Jack before school. Spoil them with trinkets to show off to their friends. It’s her favorite season there and it would make great circumstances to steal one of Derek’s sweatshirts and escape with new recipes from Dave to try out. Enough time for so many girl’s nights -- her skin needs the reprieve and Garcia’s hand-picked face masks and JJ’s fantastic taste in wine. She needs to spend too many hours on Hotch’s office couch, listen to his deep baritone start to slur with Dave’s bourbon. To feel Dave’s crushing hug when they pour themselves into a cab and, like an idiot every time, the three of them bunch up in the backseat with her in the middle.

“I can see that look in your eye, Emily.” Clyde points right at her -- again, why does she expect him to be like them and just not profile her -- and he smiles with a shake of his head. “You’re going to go back to them, aren’t you?”

She takes her mug, solutes him with it, and walks away. Here, the rules aren’t the same. There is no Hotch standing over her shoulder, sending a glare in every direction, as the permanent reminder that there is a rule against inter-team profiling. But, that’s the catch. They’re not like her over here. Clyde has no secrets and she’s a field of undiscovered bodies in shallow graves. It doesn’t take a lot to go tripping over her bones.

As she sits herself down behind her desk, she spots the flicker of movement she’s learned to associate with her youngest agent and she knows exactly what the other woman is bringing. She finds herself sighing, feeling that bone-tired Hotch always looked (oh God, she hopes she doesn’t look like that). Why are there so many twisted fuckers in the world? She just wants to take a moment to enjoy her coffee.

“What is it?”

The poor woman coming into her office is taken aback but not entirely thrown off. “We found him.”

There goes her fucking coffee.

“Where?”

She’s going to hug Reid for as long as he lets her and she’s going bully him like he’s her baby brother until his face is red. When she sees Jennifer Jareau she’s going to force herself not to cry and she already knows Henry will be as tall as her by now. He just got glasses -- how do they grow up so fast? She’ll laugh, unabashed and loudly when Derek lifts her off her feet. Squeeze Garcia just as tight as Garcia squeezes her. Let Dave kiss her cheeks and press her face into his jacket when he pulls her in. She’ll snag a hug from Hotch when she knows they aren’t looking and quickly wipe her tear away when he whispers that he missed her.

“Be careful,” Clyde advises around a mouthful of cookie. “Don’t need any more paperwork than I already have.”

She rolls her eyes because it’s funny when he says it…

“Prentiss!” The agents here don’t call her Emily. “Ok, ok, okay--” The shot comes suddenly, unexpectedly and it hits her and for a blinding moment, she feels nothing. Searing, like the brand Ian pressed into her skin and then consuming so quickly that all she feels is hot, intense pain all across her body. “Hold still.”

There’s a blonde woman leaning into her wound, failing despite her desperation to keep Emily’s blood inside her. She looks like JJ -- or maybe the sky is just dark enough and the beams at just the right angle or the blood is pumping so quickly from Emily’s body that her mind is starved. Maybe there isn’t a blonde woman, she’s a hallucination, but it doesn’t matter. Emily just wants to go home.

“Hey, hey!”

Derek. It sounds just like him, his voice and roughly the hand that shakes her shoulder grips at her flesh. She feels weightless, suspended by her hips as she falls backward. The haze of blood loss and shock shutting down her functions. Tears sting her eyes and she sees the people hovering over her -- the distinct lack of Reid’s nervous voice, the hand holding onto hers is neither JJ nor Derek’s -- and she knows she’s not going home.

“Stay with me, Prentiss.”

Will they come here she wonders. If this is it, will they bring her home one last time? She doesn’t want to be buried in Europe. She wants Virginia and the fall and home. She wants to go home.

“Hey, hey--”

She feels the cold sting of a hand across her cheeks but her eyes have sunk. Home.

She just wanted to go home.

[moldisgoodforyou]

Damn I loved jealous rafe that was so hot... could we maybe get a really really REALLY jealous Sophie?? Obviously only if ur down for that, I adore your writing but want u to take care of urself drink ur water & be happy most importantly :)

hi I really appreciated the last half of this message thank you :) I’m not quite sure this is really really REALLY jealous but it’s still a lot of jealous! 

__ 

Colin’s sister, April, was hopelessly in love with Rafe. And Rafe had no clue.

She was a freshman and a film major, so Colin introduced the two so Rafe could give her advice on classes. She texted him at least once a week, usually more. After Colin brought her to their tailgate in November and Rafe was nice enough to make her a few (watered-down) drinks, then drop her off at her dorm, she was convinced Rafe felt the same way toward her.

The texts became constant enough for Sophie to notice, always seeing April’s name popping up on Rafe’s phone. April had taken the liberty of saving her phone contact for Rafe, as April 💛. Sophie didn’t want to be the jealous, imposing girlfriend straight away, so she did her best to ignore it.

As Rafe and Sophie were hanging out on the couches at Delt, she saw three texts pop up on his phone in a quick succession, and he swiped them away just as fast as they had came in.

Sophie leaned over, curious. “What’s my name saved as? In your phone?”

“Uh.” He took a moment to think, then scrolled through his contacts and showed her. “Just this.” She tried not to visibly react when she saw it, just saved as Sophie Flint. “That’s it?”

“Well, yeah, I just kept it from when you saved it at the bar for me, remember? Does it matter?”

“No, uh, it doesn’t. Never mind.” She forced a smile and settled into his side and he returned to absent-mindedly playing with her hair.

“Why, what’s mine saved as?” He asked, reaching for her phone. She held it out of his reach. “Just Rafe.”

He grinned. “Not love of my life, Rafe Cameron?” She scowled and grabbed his hand, moving it back to her hair. “Definitely not.”

_

The next time April was brought up, Sophie was watching a movie with Rafe in his room, both of them sprawled out on the couch.

“Hey, dude. Me and April are gonna go grab dinner, you wanna come?” Colin asked, grabbing his wallet from the dresser. He gave Sophie a friendly smile. “Oh yeah, you can come too if you want, Sophie.”  

“Nah, we have plans to go meet up with Soph’s roommates. Tell her hi though.” Rafe declined. Sophie stayed uncharacteristically quiet, tucking into Rafe’s side. “Will do. She’ll miss seeing you.” Colin waved and headed out.

Rafe glanced down at Sophie, rubbing her arm. “You good, Soph?”

“Sure you don’t want to go hang out with her?”  

He looked confused. “No. Thought we made plans to grab pizza with Allie and Julia, was I wrong?” She scowled, just slightly. “No, we have plans. Never mind.”

“Okay...” He didn’t press the issue further, just turning up the TV volume a little more. After a while, she turned in her seat, sitting further away from him. “This movie’s kind of terrible, isn’t it?” He frowned. “But it’s Anna Karenina, I thought you liked Keira Knightley.”

“She cheats on her husband.” Sophie shifted again, putting even more distance between them. Rafe reached out and tugged at her ankle, trying to bring her closer. “Hey. You said you liked this movie.” She shook her head. “Never said that. Maybe you’re thinking of someone else.”

“Fine, maybe.” He slid his hand up her leg, but she flinched away, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Soph, what’s the deal?” He pulled his hand back.

“Nothing, what’s your deal?”

“My deal? I don’t have a deal. You’re acting weird.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m not.”

“Sophie.” He frowned more. “Baby, come on.”

“Don’t call me that. You know, I’m gonna just go to dinner with the girls alone. You can go with April.” It was a test, and he didn’t know it. She paused before getting up, glancing over his body language.

He shrugged. “Okay, been meaning to catch up with her anyways.”

Sophie huffed. “Fine.” She grabbed her phone and stood, not giving him a second glance as she left.

_

The next time, Sophie was lying with Rafe on his bed, James in his. This was a fairly common occurrence, with Sophie comfortable hanging around his friends.

“Bro, did you see what April was wearing last week?” James asked, tossing a  tennis ball from his bed toward Rafe. He caught it one-handed, sitting up a little to toss it back to James. “No, was she at our party?”

“Yeah. Can’t believe she wore that dress, some guy was hanging all over her.” He frowned, shutting up the second Colin came in. Sophie raised her eyebrows. “What’s so wrong with the dress?”

Colin cocked his head. “What dress?”

“None of your business.” James snapped back, shooting Sophie a dirty look. She frowned, confused and a little hurt. “Don’t be rude.”

“Hey, knock it off, you two.” Rafe admonished, loosely curling his arm around her shoulders. She shrugged him off, annoyed, and swung her legs off the bed. “I’m gonna go, need to study.”

Rafe frowned and took her hand. “Thought we were going to study together?”

“Yeah, well, you thought wrong.” She replied, a little more snippy than she needed to be. “Soph, come on.” She ignored him as she gathered her things and left and James whistled, shaking his head. “What’s all that about?”

Rafe threw the tennis ball hard at him, nailing his leg. “You were being an asshole.” James yelped, tossing it hard back at him but Rafe ducked away. “She was - you know!” He argued, gesturing at Colin. “Still not cool, man! Text her and apologize.” Rafe shot back.

“What the hell am I missing?” Colin glanced between the two of them, thoroughly confused. “Shouldn’t you go after her?”

“Nah, she doesn’t like being followed after a fight.”

“Have you two fought since getting together? Like you used to?” James asked.

“Well...no.” Rafe paused. “But this isn’t about us, this is your fault.” He glanced at Colin for backup. “Right?”  

“I still have no fucking clue what you’re on about.” Colin replied.

“Doesn’t matter.” James dismissed it, sending Rafe a glare and effectively ending the conversation.

_

Sophie tried distancing herself from Rafe, somewhat, as jealousy built up inside of her. She had him come over before they had plans to go out while she got  ready. His attention went back and forth between her and his phone the whole time and Sophie was already regretting inviting him over as she saw April’s name popping up on his screen.

“Rafe, which one?” She turned to him in just her bra and jeans, holding up two tops. One blue, one yellow.

He didn’t glance up from his phone. “Uh...the black. You always wear that one.”

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger as she ditched both, opting for a sweatshirt instead and flopped onto her bed. He swiveled around in her desk chair, confused as he eyed over her messy bun and flat iron still plugged in on the counter. “You’re wearing that to go out?”  

“Why, is this not good enough for you?”

“No, it’s fine. I just thought...” At her glare, he raised his hands in defense. “Never mind. You ready to go then? Colin is seeing one of the bartenders and said she could snag us free drinks if we showed early.”  

Sophie sat up quickly, looking like she was about to cry. “You don’t want to go hang out with the girl blowing up your phone?”

“Huh? Soph, what are you talking about?”

“April?” She bit her lip, avoiding his gaze.

He laughed, loud. “April? You’re serious?”

“Oh, good, laugh at me, that feels great. I feel like you’re cheating on me and you’re fucking laughing.”

It took him a few moments to process before he crossed the room in two big strides and grabbed both her hands, squeezing them. “I’m not cheating on you, Sophie, I would never.” When she glanced up, he continued. “April is Colin’s freshman little sister, she texts me for film school advice. That’s it.”  

“...Oh.” She breathed out, wanting to shrink back into herself and disappear. “So when James was talking about what she was wearing...” 

“She’s practically like our little sister now too, James is just protective.” Rafe clarified, reaching up and swiping his thumbs over her cheeks to get rid of a couple stray tears. “Don’t cry, Soph, it’s okay.” 

“Fuck, Rafe, I’m so sorry.” She laughed softly, a little shaky. “She was just texting you all the time - and the heart next to her name in your phone, I just -” 

“Ah, shit. Yeah, I see what you mean.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, then over both her cheeks, then the tip of her nose, making her giggle. “I’ll change it, promise. Look, I’ll introduce you two tonight, you’ll see.” He tugged at the hem of her sweatshirt. “Still want to wear this?” 

She shook her head and reached up, giving him a short kiss.  “No, I’ll go change. I’m sorry. Again. I should have just asked.” She paused. “In my defense, it didn’t help seeing a text saying ‘thanks for last night’ with the kissy face emoji. Especially when I knew you were out with the guys the night before.”  

“I dropped her off after she got trashed at one of our tailgates.” Rafe replied, shaking his head. “But you know what, I see where you’re coming from.” 

Once they made to the bar, Sophie followed him in and over to his group of friends all crowded in a corner. April, who looked extraordinarily similar to Colin, grinned when she saw Rafe and threw his arms around him, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Rafey, hi!”  

He turned red, leaning away from her kiss but gave her a short hug back. Sophie raised her eyebrows at him and held back a smile and an I told you so, but he could tell anyways. He wrapped his arm around Sophie’s waist. “Hey, April, this is my girlfriend, Sophie.” 

“Girlfriend?” April repeated with a hint of disdain. “Rafe, you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.” 

James snorted into his drink watching the exchange. 

“It’s only been official for a little bit.” Sophie clarified, placing her hand possessively on Rafe’s chest. 

“Oh, so it’s nothing serious.” April brightened. “Rafe and I have known each other for months now, we’re pretty close.” She told Sophie, leaning over the table to give Rafe an eyeful of her chest. Colin tugged her up by the back of her shirt right away and Rafe dug his fingers into Sophie’s side a little, painfully aware of the situation now. 

“I’ve known him since high school, but thanks.” Sophie shot back a sweet smile. “You might have more luck hitting on someone your own age, by the way.” 

April turned bright red and took a long sip from her drink. “I’m not - I wasn’t -”  She stammered. 

“It’s fine. I can see where you’re coming from.” Sophie raised her eyebrows and gave Rafe a kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to get another one, anyone else?” At no response, she turned on her heel and left. 

“You’ve been hitting on Rafe?” Colin questioned April, disgusted. She just scowled and left the group to go find her friends, thoroughly embarrassed. James elbowed Rafe with a grin. “She’s possessive, huh?” 

“Yeah, shut up.” He grinned back, ears turning red.