#80s fem dark blonde

[elsblunt]

abby anderson . drabble?

warnings : based in 80’s , fem reader … think thats it!

“ look at ya, such a pretty thing. “

a flash came after a click to your camera, the one abby had bought you for your birthday. there was a light breeze that flew past your dress and hair, a leather jacket draped over your torso, the one abby gave you.

it was dark outside, the area lit up by different rollercoasters and booths. it smelt like fried food, the sound of music and people’s laughter and conversations rung throughout the air.

“baby, put the camera down!” abby chuckled as you took another picture, she tried to sound annoyed, but her giant grin showed otherwise. “nope, gotta keep your pretty face in my pocket at all times.” you tease, smiling and slipping the camera into your purse. abby couldn’t help but notice how your hips moved while you walked. the loose sky blus dress that hung over your body, falling at your upper thighs. the bra you shown to her in the car.

abby stood beside you, despite the other strong smells, she was hung on your strawberry perfume that seeped into her jacket. she was never washing it again.

you were tempting, she just wanted to pick you up and squeeze you, press trillions of kisses to your body. god, you would be the end of her.

“so, what ride we headin’ to?” the blonde looked around. watching as you click your tongue and search around. you guys had been at the carnival for about an hour and a half now, feet sore from the walk, hearts pumped up from the trillion rides you dragged her to. “hey, how about we go to the photo booth?”

“lead the way, darling.”

you giggle before sitting down, adjusting your dress and scooting over, making space for your girlfriend. she clicks a few buttons, slipping in a few coins.

for the first picture, abby wrapped her arm around your shoulder, locking you in her grip and against her side. pressing a kiss to your head as you laughed and scrunched up your face.

snap! the booth flashed white. “shit, shit! uh…” abby groans. you brought her face closer to yours, the sides of them touching. the heat from your cheeks coming in contact. it didn’t matter how long you were together or how many dates you went on, abby would still get flustered. even over that tough shell.

snap! the white flash came again. “last one!” you giggle. the blue eyed girl grabbed your cheeks, bringing you in for a deep kiss. it was a typical last picture at the photo booths, the kiss. the one you two had seen in many movies and shows, the one you always wanted to recreate. the one abby had to watch over and over cause you loved rom coms that much, and she loved you that much to rewatch them.

snap! the white flash didn’t stop the kiss, continuing before having to break for air. and grab your pictures. you smiled and tapped her cheek, peeking out the booth and grabbing them.

“we look so cute, baby!” you point to the pictures, giving her one more kiss on the cheek. abby’s lips pulled into a smile as she grabbed the little pictures from you, looking at them herself. “we do look pretty cute.” she chuckles and slips them into her jeans.

“gotta keep your pretty face in my pocket.”

this is a super old draft from literally last year.. so bare with me!

[smalltownbeautyqueen]

Dancing with the Doctor (Spencer Reid x fem! Reader)

After hearing the BAU's prom stories, Garcia decides to throw her own BAU prom! Much dialogue and fluff.

Warnings: mentions of drinking and feeling tipsy, reader is referred to as girl, reader is described as having hair long enough to brush off her face

Word Count: 1.5k

Unfortunately, this inspired Garcia to ask about everyone else's high school and prom experiences. Derek had been popular in high school, so he had his pick of girls to ask out to prom. Penelope had a steady boyfriend at the time, and Emily had gone with a group of her friends. "So my pretties… that leaves you two to tell your prom stories," Garcia said, gesturing to you and Reid.

After several long weeks of solving heinous crimes and seeing the dark underbelly of society, a few drinks with your work family seemed like a great way to relax. It started innocently enough, with the ordinarily private Hotch sharing how he met his wife while at his high school prom. It was the sort of meet-cute that seemed right out of an 80s teen movie.

"Did you know that proms actually began as formal tea parties for male college students and their families and that it wasn't until the 1950s that proms began to morph into what we think of them today. But to answer your question, Garcia, no. I did not attend my prom. I was too young." Garcia turned towards you, "Now, your turn, my precious." "Oh…uhm…I was busy? So I didn't go," you said, slurping your cocktail to avoid further questioning. You really did not want your coworkers to know that you had been dumped the day before prom. So, instead of going, you stayed at home, cried, and knit while watching Doctor Who re-runs.

As you walked in the next day, Garcia ran up to you excitedly. "Guess what?" Penelope sing-songed, "What?" you smiled back at the bubbly blonde. "I had the most fabulous idea last night! We should have our own BAU prom!"

Luckily for you, Garcia turned her attention to a cute guy who had walked up to the bar. "I'm going to go make a new friend," Garcia said, sliding out of the booth to go see the new object of her affection. "I need to go too," Hotch said, standing up to leave. "Yeah, me too," Morgan agreed. "Then there were three," Emily said. "Well, actually, I'm giving Spencer a ride home. So we should probably go before it gets too late." You responded to Emily while tugging on Spencer's sleeve. "Ugh, fine. Good night." Emily grumped.

"Really?" You asked skeptically. You didn't mean to rain on Penelope's parade, of course. But how would that even work? A bunch of grown people who work for the FBI throwing a prom? "Yes!" Penelope responded, "Don't worry, I will figure out all the logistics. You just have to show up."

"Show up where?" Spencer asked, walking up from behind Penelope. "Garcia's throwing a BAU prom," Morgan answered. "Wow. Really?" Reid responded. "You're into this, Spencer?" Morgan asked from his desk. "Yeah. I remember seeing everybody being so excited for prom, and I always wondered what it was like." Reid admitted, looking down at his fidgeting hands. "See…" Garcia said, "I'll send out the deets later. This is totally happening!"

Two weeks later, you had all but forgotten about the proposed BAU prom until you received a "promposal" email from Garcia. "Uh… Hey, did anyone else get a weird email from Garcia?" Spencer asked. "Yeah, I did," Emily answered. "I got a promposal too. I can't believe she pulled this off." You chime in.

"Possible serial killer in Wyoming." Hotch shouted down from his office, "Wheels up in 30."

You wiped your surprisingly sweaty palms on your clothes before you knocked on Penelope's door. "Hello, Gorgeous!" Penelope greeted you as she swung the door wide. Behind her, you saw Morgan putting gauzy purple and blue fabric over the lamps and furniture. "Wow, Penelope! You went all out!" "Well, you know me."

"That was Reid; he said that he isn't feeling very good, so he won't be able to make it." Upon hearing this, you felt a flood of relief. This wasn't because you didn't like Reid. It was because you did like Reid. You liked him a little too much.

Penelope ushered you through the door with a smile. Just as soon as you stepped inside Penelope's house, Emily knocked on the door. This time, Derek opened the door for the pretty brunette dressed in a simple red dress. "Hi, everybody," Emily greeted. Penelope's phone rang in response.

A few cups of Penelope's spiked punch later, you had forgotten all about your previous nerves. So, when you turned around and bumped into your coworker's tall form, you invited him to dance instead of apologizing like a normal person. "Oh…no… I-I don't really dance," Spencer responded, shaking his head. "Aww, come on, Spency Poo," you pouted up at him. " Spency Poo? How much have you had to drink?" He asked incredulously.

He was part of why you felt nervous about the prom; you had a massive crush on Dr. Spencer Reid since you started at the BAU a few months ago. You usually weren't a particularly giggly person. But, when he was around, you turned into a giggly, mushy mess. Your crush was so obvious! Penelope had caught on to it almost immediately and teased you about it ever since. You were sure that if Penelope, who wasn't even an FBI profiler, had caught on, it must be painfully obvious to everyone else on the team.

Before you could respond, Morgan clapped his hands around Spencer's shoulders. "I thought you weren't going to be able to make it?" Morgan asked. "I guess I started feeling better." The bespeckled man responded. "Yeah…" Morgan said, unconvinced.

"Come on," You said to Spenecr as you tugged on the sleeve of his wool blazer. "Yeah, man, go dance with your girl." Morgan encouraged. Upon hearing Derek refer to you as Reid's girl and seeing the panicked look across Reid's pretty face, you were momentarily stunned out of your tipsy state.

"I'm your girl?" You asked with a coquettish grin. "You know what? I changed my mind. I will dance with you." Spencer responded quickly, tugging you onto the makeshift dancefloor in the center of Garcia's living room. Suddenly, you didn't want to dance; you wanted to know what Morgan meant when he told Spencer to dance with his girl.

"It's hot in here. Will you come outside with me?" You smiled up at Reid. "Of course. Did you know that alcohol disturbs your central nervous system, which can cause your body to less effectively heat and cool your body?" You found it endearing that he could share his fun facts even in uncomfortable situations. "Really? Do you think getting out of here would make me feel better?" You ask sweetly. "Probably." With this, you lead him out onto Penelope's patio.

You decided then and there to do something you wouldn't have thought of doing just a few hours ago. You were going to tell Reid how you really felt

"There, that's better." You sighed once the sliding door had shut, muffling the noises of conversation and music. "It's not much cooler out here than inside," Spencer remarked, bringing attention to the unseasonably warm weather. "Yeah, you're right," With this, you pushed the hair away from your face and stretched tall. When you looked back at Spencer, you saw his eyes quickly avert away from your chest.

"I saw that, Spence." You teased. "Saw what?" He asked, cheeks reddening. "Don't play stupid with me." You admonished. "I have a question for you, Mr. Smarty Pants." Spencer let out a soft snort at the nickname. "Sure, what is it?" He asked, eager to help.

"What did Morgan mean when he called me your girl?" "Oh…nothing. You know how Morgan is." He responded quickly, practically cutting your sentence off. "Yeah, I do know how Morgan is. That's why I asked." Spencer avoided eye contact, more so than usual.

You moved closer to him and whispered conspiratorially. "Can I tell you a secret?" You tried not to giggle at Spencer's wide-eyed look and cute nod. "I like you. I have a big, fat, stupid crush on you, Spencer!" "No, you don't," Spencer said, backing away from you.

"How do you know!?" You asked indignantly. "You're drunk. "You don't know what you're saying." Spencer glumly answered. "Yes. I do." You loosely picked up his hand. Instead of letting go of your hand like you thought he would, he held it tighter and looked into your eyes.

"Do you really?" He asked quietly. "Can I kiss you?" You asked before what little resolve you had was worn away by the warmth of Spencer's gaze and touch. "Yes." He whispered. With this, you smooshed your mouth into his. It was soft and sweet, like Spencer. You kissed for what felt like minutes but was really only seconds.

"I like you too, since your first day at work. Morgan has teased me about it ever since. That's why he called you my girl." Spencer blurted out once your lips had separated. You laughed, happy in this moment. "Would you like me to be your girl?" you asked sweetly. "Yes!" Spencer responded without a second thought.

A/N hi hi! I've been reading fan fiction for a while and finally wrote my own. This story was written for @imagining-in-the-margins CM office party prompt challenge. dividers credit: @saradika-graphics

[marvelobsessed134]

Noticed you're taking requests for dark!nikki sixx. How about him getting all jealous and posessive (maybe he noticed some guy looking at reader or something, or her being too friendly with someone) and reminding her who she belongs too?

current or 80s nikki, whatever you prefer

Who do you belong to?

A/n: oh yeah! I love these tropes so much ft. A cameo from Eric Brittingham bc yes

Pairings: Dark!Nikki Sixx x Fem!reader

Warnings: smut, rough sex, possessiveness, knife play, blood, punishment (spanking with a belt), daddy kink, Nikki’s kind of mean in this lol, and I think that’s it. Let me know if I missed any.

“Hey baby.” A man said from behind you. You turned to see non other than Eric Brittingham from Cinderella.

“Oh, hi.” You smiled, just trying to be polite. You knew what his intentions were, obviously and your boyfriend did too. Because right before Eric could get another word in, he was pushed against the bar roughly, Nikki staring down at him with fire in his eyes it seemed.

“And what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The bassist snarled at the other bassist.

“Hey man, I didn’t know she was yours.” The blonde tried to reason with the raven haired man.

“You’re a lucky bastard cause if you had gone any further you wouldn’t be able to fucking walk.” Nikki threatened him before letting go and gripping your wrist tightly, dragging you out of the night club.

“Babe-“ you tried to speak but he cut you off. “Shut up.”

The two of you got in the car and Nikki drove off. You could hear his tires squeaking against the road.

Once the two of you got home he dragged you upstairs to your shared bedroom and said, “Strip.”

You did as you were told, stripping all the way down including your underwear. You stood before him, bare as he was fully clothed. Your nipples were hard from the cool air.

“Tsk, tsk. Such a bad girl going around letting other men flirt with you. Especially in front of daddy.” He said, slowly walking towards you unbuckling his belt.

Your eyes widened, you knew what was coming.

Once he slid the belt off and folded it in a loop he said, “face down, ass up.” A simple command that had you scrambling to obey him.

Then, a sharp sting hit your bare ass. You whimpered. “Count.” Nikki said, and hit your ass again. “One.” You counted. Another slap, “two.” Tears were springing in your eyes, “three”

“Four”

“Five”

“Six”

“Seven”

“Eight”

“Nine”

“Ten” you sighed in relief when he stopped and smoothed his hand over your red cheeks before dropping his pants and lining his cock up to your pussy before roughly pushing in. You cried out in both pain and pleasure as he started pounding into you. Clutching the sheets, you cried and moaned, “Daddy! F-feels good!”

“Oh yeah? You think I can fuck you better than that blonde fucker?” He responded.

“Yes! Oh yes you fuck me better!”

Nikki slowed down a bit and then reached over to the nightstand and pulled out his pocket knife. Your breath hitched.

“This ok, bunny?” He asked. He knew that you knew what he had in his hand.

“Yes.” Because you were interested to where he was going with this. And also because even if you said no he’d do it anyways.

You felt him slowly carve into your skin, not too deep but enough to make you bleed a little. You hissed at the pain while your pussy was dripping. You felt him carve a ‘N’ onto your left ass cheek and then an ‘S’ on your right one. Fuck that’s hot, carving his initials into your skin. Now you’re his forever it seemed.

Nikki lightly traced them with his finger. “So beautiful. And now you really belong to daddy.” He said before pushing back into your tight hole and fucking you into oblivion.

“Mmm Nikki!” You moaned.

“I’m close, baby.” The bassist warned before pulling out of you and cumming on your ass over his newly carved initials. He then took his finger and scooped some up before feeding it to you.

“Good girl.” He praised.

[planet-dusk]

you should definitely share the fem!skz thoughts with the rest of the class mhmmm mhmm totally not because i need them more than oxygen or anything 🙄

i was thinking,, what kind of aesthetic would the fem!skz members have...

chan would have emo/e-girl vibes, the type of girl whose wardrobe consists of 99% black. lots of silver jewelry. the chunkier kind,, black leather too, and of course her nails would be painted black as well (a little chipped from biting them). pleated skirts, chain belts and oversized sweaters. big platform shoes to make her look taller and fishnet stockings to show off her pretty legs <33 n piercings! a nose & belly button piercing for sure bc of course chan would have the prettiest tummy :)) her preferred hair color would be black (relaxed, not curled) or 2 tone with either black + silver grey or a neon color

leeknow's style would be a mixture of comfortable athleisure and a more preppy clean aesthetic. padded jackets, hoodies, sweatpants and ofc converse :)) minimal jewelry,, if any. probably just some (cat) bracelets. she'd prefer to dye her hair in natural colors like dark brown. in winter she wears soft chunky wool sweaters. she uses very little makeup but she loves her cherry chapstick, and how it makes her lips all sweet and sticky and kissable <33

changbin would be such a babygirl ! the prettiest in pink, always showing off her gorgeous body <33 the cleavage on this girl 😵‍💫 she'd act all coy about it but loves it when people comment on how pretty she looks today,, bc she works hard for it and everyone should know! would def match her eyeshadow to her top <33 her hair would be black and curled, either short or long she looks great in both :)) binnie's a dress girl, she loves short bodycon dresses (n of course hidden underneath are her perky nipple piercings 🤭)

hyunjin would be the epitome of artsy elegance,, pretty silver rings adorning her long fingers. she keeps her hair short so it doesn't get in the way when she's painting. loves flowy oversized button ups that look like she stole them from someone else's closet. experiments with makeup sometimes but prefers to keep things more natural,, including her hair (but bleaches it sometimes). honestly looks like a dream whatever she wears <33

han would be right at home in leeknow's sweaters :)) sungie loves borrowing her friends' clothes. her style is similar to minho's but with some edgier street vibes thrown in,, like bucket hats and ripped jeans or cargo pants. goes through experimental phases (including a punk phase and dying her hair all colors of the rainbow) but always falls back on her comfy clothes <33 never goes far without her noise canceling headphones

felix likes expensive things,, likes them to be well fitted and neat. she loves soft n cute things too and often mixes aesthetics. a natural blonde <33 knows exactly what flatters her features (makeup, clothes, etc). could be wearing some high end jewelry paired with fluffy knee socks — anything she feels like,, and she looks amazing in it. bright and light colors look best on her but at night she'll turn up wearing a tiny black dress and make everyone do a double take 😵‍💫

seungmin breathes academia vibes! somewhere between light and dark academia, but always looking sharp and pristine. the kind of timeless beauty who knows how to accentuate her features,, with the perfect haircut (somewhere in the middle) and the right amount of makeup to make her beautiful face stand out. she'd wear tortoiseshell rimmed glasses,, a vintage pair she found in a shop downtown. lots of warm brown leather and tweed to finish off her daily look <33

i.n is on top of all the latest trends. she's just so cool 😫 her style is trendy but relaxed,, a city vibe with her oversized jackets and her shoe collection. rocks a bob or a ponytail like no other ! she buys vintage sometimes,, stuff like those 80s adidas jackets, seamlessly mixing them with her modern day sneakers. her style is very laid back but she knows how to dress up n loves a good red lip <33

[liz-allyn]

sugar and vice, pt. 23 [mob!tasm!peter x fem!oc]

summary: in the beginning, there was darkness...

words: 5.1k

chapter warning: gratuitously deep philosophical nonsense.

series warnings: mob-typical bang bang violence, hurt/comfort. smut. Spicy situations. spousal / domestic abuse. family trauma. verbal abuse. PTSD, psychotic breaks/episodes, drug use. coercion. manipulation. kidnapping. gore. blood. possessive!peter, protective!peter. toxic/yandere!peter (maybe, sorta), negative self-talk, shameless forced proximity trope. ‘only ten one bed oops’ trope, imprisonment. slowest burn. a dash of questionable and/or morally grey intentions. extremely toxic relationships. having happiness ripped away from you.

This version of TASM Peter is not canon. The relationships and characters here are not healthy.

Don't date a mob boss.™️

18+ You’re responsible for your own media consumption, but if you think that this symbol

is the logo of some off-shoot programming block on Nickelodeon, then you're wrong. But are you? Regardless, live a little and come back later.

Part 23

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

Peter thought of the elements. 

Tick... Tick... Tick... Tick...

The Greats. Earth. Wind. Water. Fire. Space. Born out of Hinduism’s sacred literature. Also, Captain Planet’s sidekicks.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

The Chemical Elements. Only 118 of them have even been discovered. Only 95 of those are primordial, whereas the rest are man-made. 

His dad used to talk for hours about this stuff.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

The interrogation room he was in was dark, despite the flickering fluorescent bulbs. The buzz of the lights sounded like a buzzsaw. The air was cold, too. The thin NYPD-branded, crew neck tee that Peter had been given to wear didn’t help much. 

Tick... Tick... Tick

The lights flickered again, this time with a greenish hue. 

Argon. Symbol: Ar. Number 18. A noble gas. Mercury. Hg, number 80. Also known as quicksilver. Highly toxic. Phosphorous. Number 15.

In his class, he was Number 2.

Atoms aren’t even as old as people assume. After the Big Bang, the universe was still nothingness—white, hot light that scorched everything out of existence. The heat was uninhabitable. Hydrogen didn’t make its appearance until roughly 370,000 years later. 

370,000 years of hot, blinding nothingness.

Tick... Tick... Tick...

Hour after hour, they came at him like waves of radioactive light.

First, there were two detectives—both a bit too junior to be assigned to such a high-profile case, but Peter figured that they didn’t know that. A reserved Eagle Scout named Sousa and a snarky blonde female named Carter. 

Or just ‘Sharon,’ as her boss Alexander Pierce referred to her, to her thinly-veiled ire. 

The Commissioner waltzed into the room mid-interrogation and essentially asked his naive detectives to go back to coloring while the adults talked. Both detectives walked out of the interrogation room with a scowl on their faces.

They probably didn’t know it, but Pierce wasn’t concerned about their abilities as detectives, or the integrity of the case. All he needed was to get Peter behind bars, where crooked guards and violent inmates could take over. Where he could give Peter the same welcome that Miguel had.

They probably didn’t know it, but Peter could tell by the scent of Pierce’s cologne: a $1,200 bottle of Bond 9 Dubai that not even New York’s police commissioner could afford. 

Peter recognized the scent. It was Wilson Fisk’s favorite gift to give his friends.

They probably didn’t know it, but Peter did. 

Pierce had no intention of letting him make it to trial.

Peter was disconnected. Drained. Eventually, even Matt’s voice became static which blended into the tone of the room, and droned beneath the ticking of the clock and the god-awful buzz of the lights.

“—he’s in’a world’a trouble...”

“... absolutely no evidence —not even formal charges have been presented...”

It might not have been productive, but Peter allowed himself to tune out. Matt was a good lawyer.

“—lucky we’re not pressing charges against the department after Captain Stacy’s unwarranted attack on my client, whom he’s been stalking for years—”

Oh man, that’ll piss George off when it gets back to him. A very good lawyer.

Despite his earlier act, he still felt a great amount of sorrow for George Stacy. Not exactly sympathy... and not quite guilt. Just sorrow. 

Looking into his eyes was like looking down into a sinkhole. Or passing a destroyed car on the highway. Unidentifiable. Cold. Hollow. Empty. Somehow the emptiness in Gwen’s father always triggered an empty feeling in him. It was a secret weapon that George had over Peter that his estranged father-in-law didn’t even know he had.

On the outside, Peter could wear a mask that projected cockiness and make lewd comments about the man’s wife. On the inside, George could eviscerate Peter with a look.

370,000 years of nothingness. Nothing but white, hot rage.

Peter tuned back in for a moment when Pierce said the name Walker. He hadn’t even heard the question fully and already his blood was boiling. He wished that he was guilty of that bastard’s murder. He wished that he had killed him. He tried to focus on something that Felicia said months back which resonated with him: about how Honey needed a chance to stand up for herself.

Maybe Felicia was right. Maybe it was just a terrible thing that needed to be done, and Honey was the one that needed to do it. 

Honey wasn’t Gwen. 

The history she shared with that dead asshole was a far cry from the tragic turn of events that led Gwen to shove a man off the ledge of a clock tower. 

Honey wasn’t Gwen.

The look of heartbreak in her eyes. He’d never forget it. 

George looked at Peter that way once, too—after a closed-casket funeral when he laid his daughter in the dirt.

They looked the way Peter felt all the time. Devastation. Ruin.

How could Peter possibly be capable of such cruelty? The world was full of monsters. Sometimes Peter was one of them.

Honey wasn’t Gwen.

In the beginning, there was darkness. Then, there was an explosion. Then there was an inferno that burned so hot, even the basic building blocks of the universe could not begin to form.

Honey wasn’t Gwen; she was Peter’s universe. The stars in his sky. She was a vast, endless expanse that surrounded him. That held him in an ever-growing, outwardly-expanding gravitational orbit. She was everything, and outside of that, there was nothing.

And every second in that room he felt himself getting further away from her.

Peter’s bones hurt. His back was in so much pain it was difficult to sit still. On top of that, he was weary. He was traumatized. He was grieving the loss of his security, his home. Grieving Eddie.

Despite that, Peter could toss the table like a Coke can. He could punch a hole in the wall and stroll out if he wanted to. Or crawl across the ceiling, to Pierce’s astonishment and horror.

Pierce was staring at him again. This time, there was a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

Even if Peter did escape, he had too much to lose. Peter knew it. Pierce did, too.

In all the ways that mattered, he was trapped in his own web.

After several more minutes (or hours, maybe) of grandstanding on both sides, the door to the interrogation room swung open. A stocky figure silhouetted the doorway. Intense features, sharp lines in his jaw, brow, and aquiline nose, as much shadow spilling over him as there was light. 

The temperature of the room shifted. Matt and Pierce stopped talking. Peter froze, lifting his chin as he met the dark glare of Manhattan’s district attorney. 

“Frank,” Pierce said with a tinge of discomfort. “I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us so soon.”

Matt’s voice warmed but maintained a snarky edge. “Ah, is that the Honorable Francis Castiglione?” he bitingly beamed. 

Despite the smile on Murdock’s face, Peter could hear the pace of his lawyer’s heart pick up. Which... wasn’t a great sign. Even Pierce started to sweat. 

“Mr. Murdock,” New York’s toughest DA replied without batting an eye. Unswayed. Uncompromising. Undefeated. He held a stone, straight-laced expression. Even beneath a conservative black suit and tie, he was one of the most intimidating men Peter had ever laid eyes on. He was at least a solid 170 pounds, Peter supposed, of solid muscle and righteous fervor.  

“Just having a little fun, Mr. Castle,” Matt charmed with obnoxious flair. “How could I forget your name with all of the posters still hanging around? ‘Stand Your Ground.’ Great campaign slogan, by the way. Especially for a pacifist who managed to ban every firearm in the five boroughs. Although, I’m certain you won’t be getting any gift baskets from the gun lobby—”

“I wanna speak with your client alone.” Frank’s deep voice rolled through the room like the first tremors of an impending avalanche. The other men stared back, blinking silently.

Matt’s sunny disposition dimmed as his jaw tightened. Pierce’s hackles were raised, although he tried to suppress it. Wordlessly, they blinked and flinched and tried to wrap their heads around the request.

A humorless laugh left Matt’s lips. “Yeah. That’s not gonna happen—”

“That’s fine,” Peter answered. He and his lawyer spoke simultaneously, their voices crossing each other in converse directions. 

Matt turned his head towards Peter’s side of the room, his whole body going stiff. The flesh behind his light stubble turned pale. “Um,” Matt subtly cleared his throat while his heartbeat hurled alarmed profanities at Peter. “Uh, that is... not advisable.”

“S’okay, Matt,” Peter calmly replied, keeping his eyes locked on Frank. He could hear the sounds of his lawyer’s brain overheating while trying to reboot. Pierce pinched his lips in an anxious pout, avoiding looking directly at the district attorney.

Matt gripped the head of his cane tight enough to nearly break it. “Uh... Um. Oh-okay.” Awkwardly, Matt pushed his chair back as he came to a stand, shuffling to his feet. 

Leaning back into the chair rest, Pierce visibly relaxed until Frank sternly added, “You too, Commissioner.”

The irritation in Pierce’s eyes didn’t go unnoticed. Shoulders tensed, teeth gritted, the man stood from his chair. He mirrored Matt as he sidestepped from the table and towards the exit.

Matt lingered for a moment at Peter’s side while his nails anxiously scored the cane. Peter noted the pinched expression behind Matt’s ruby-colored glasses.

“It’s okay,” Peter murmured under his breath, repeating an earlier sentiment that Murdock was skeptical to believe. And with that, Matt was powerless. Hesitantly, he gave them a parting nod, and followed Pierce out of the room.

The metal door echoed as it slammed shut, leaving the two of them alone in the cell. 

Peter threaded his fingers together, the metal in his chains clinking, and leaned back as far as his restraints would let him. Thighs spread and chin tilted off axis, he fixed Frank with an unimpressed glare as a smirk played on his lips.

The prosecutor shifted like a monolith unearthing itself. Frank measured the cocky, sharp-tongued mafia ringleader with eyes colder than steel as he strode to the table. He pulled out a chair across from the prisoner and lowered himself down into it.

The two of them sat quietly for a moment on opposite sides of the room. But it was their positions on opposite sides of the law that created friction. 

Frank was at least a decade older than Peter, but Peter seemed even more juvenile by comparison. The mob boss looked and acted like a young prince, leaned back in his seat with a smug face. Alternatively, Frank glowered down at him with the authoritative scrutiny of judge, jury, and executioner.

“Hot daaamn,” Peter said, mouth curved into a smile. “You put on some weight since I last saw ya, bub.” Waggling his eyebrows, his eyes flicked over the other man’s form. “You been workin’ out? Crossfit, maybe?” He let out a mirthless laugh. “Forget bein’ the scourge of New York’s underworld— Bro, you must be killin’ it in the gym.”

Unfazed, Frank disregarded the remarks without a single blink. His dark eyes bored into Peter, and he remained more than comfortable with the uncomfortable silence that followed.

Peter glared at him with darkening eyes, balling his fists against the table. “Is it safe to assume the cameras are off at this point?” Animosity sharpened his voice to a razor’s edge. “I mean, that’s the only way you’d ever allow yourself to be seen fraternizing with a criminal like me, right?”

The temperature of the room pitched downwards even further. Icy waves surged off of Peter. Frank was a stone wall, letting each wave crash over him and fall back into the surf.

“I’m not the one who put you in those cuffs, Peter,” Frank answered, nonconfrontational. “I’m not the bad guy here. And I never wanted to be your enemy.” He kept his voice soft and respectful, wisdom shining from his eyes. “You and I—we’re not so different. We’re not monsters; we’re men. We’re bound by the law. Both of us, judged by the law.”

The smile faded from Peter’s lips. “Well," he glowered, bitter frost in his bite, "aren’t you a modern-day Moses on the Mountain.” His words were punctuated with ire as he scrutinized him with disdain. “Y’know, they told me ya caught religion, but I didn’t realize what a holy roller you were. When we’re done here, I’ll give ya Matt’s number. Give ya tons to talk about. Bet'chu two would be a hoot at parties.”

Peter sneered at him a moment longer, then let out a bored, depreciating sigh. “M’not much of a Bible thumper, myself,” he half-shrugged. “Only verses I know by heart are Ezekiel 25:17... and, uh... whatever that bullshit was in Shawshank.”

Frank glanced down, deep in thought. “‘His Judgment Cometh and That Right Soon’,’' he said, recalling the prop he referenced. It was a tapestry embroidered with the Bible verse hanging in the corrupt Warden’s office—a MacGuffin in the film’s plot. 

“That's not a real verse,” Castle noted, matter-of-factly. “You’re probably thinkin’ of Psalm 98:9—’Let them sing Before the Lord; for he cometh to judge the earth: With righteousness shall he judge the world and all of its people equally.’” 

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Well.” The word tasted bitter on his tongue as resentment spread through his chest like a tumor. “I’m Jewish. And even then, I never drank the Kool-Aid. S’not really my thing.”

He waited, expecting Frank to take offense. To Peter’s dismay, he remained as peaceful as a lake on a windless day. 

“I get that,” the older man mused somberly. Contemplative, he looked up at Peter with sympathy coloring his face. “If what happened to you, happened to me,” he said, “I don’t know if I’d like who I’d become either.”

As he said it, his gentle eyes settled in on Peter with a knowing expression. Pity. It made Peter's teeth grind and his temper burn. It took all of his self-restraint not to break out of his chains and (re)break the prosecutor’s nose. Indignation writhed inside of his chest, souring his face and his stomach.

“Heard you were gunnin’ f’me real hard, too,” Peter muttered bitterly, tossing words like daggers. “Really put the heat on me— M'actually flattered.” Salaciously, he flashed his canines with a wink. “But ya didn’t hafta go to all that trouble, Frank. If y'wanted to get me alone in a dark room, y'coulda just hit me up on Grindr.”

“Are you done?” he replied witheringly.

“Oh, c’mon,” Peter taunted, equal parts threatening and scandalous. “I mean—they don’t call ya ‘The Punisher’ for nothin’, right? Well, go on. Punish me, Daddy. Why doncha just bend me over your knee?”

Frank’s eyes flicked to the black, mirrored glass window, shaking his head in frustration. “Always a comedian,” Castle huffed, annoyed. “Between you and Wade Wilson, it’s like watchin’ a hundred-car pile-up of clown cars. Can’t even be just a little real, not even for a second—” 

“That’s not true,” he pouted. “My tits are real...”

Fed up, Castle shook his head and grumbled, “Y’think everything's is a joke! Can you at least pretend like you give a shit about any of this—?” 

Peter’s temper flared suddenly, hitting a flashpoint that boiled the humor out of their rapport. “Y’know what I think?” he snapped back, eyes dark with rage. “I think you’re a God-damn hypocrite! That’s what I think! You and this whole corrupt, bullshit organization. That’s the joke.”

Frank shook his head, grinding his teeth. “There you go. Always a martyr.”

“Again, with the religious talk?” Peter rolled his eyes into the back of his head while letting out a dramatic sigh. “Look, ‘m’not interested in joining your little MLM cult-club, alright?”

“‘Mob Boss,’ my ass,” Frank scoffed. “Ya act like a fuckin’ child! Always whining about being the victim! Like you’re the only one in this city who's ever lost somethin’! Arrogant prick, I did three tours in Iraq while you were doodling in your diary! I was washing the blood of my brothers off my uniform while you were crying into your pillow at night! People die! Thousands of ‘em, every day! All tragedies, all the time, yet— somehow—yours is special!”

Frank’s voice boomed off the concrete walls, patience shattered. “You wanna talk about hypocrisy?” Castle said sharply. “Punishment?! How about three weeks ago in Forest Hills? Right in your backyard. Cops got a call about a domestic dispute. When they got there, the perp somehow ended up with a bullet hole in the back of his head, even though no one in the house owned a gun. You know anything about that?”

Peter straightened his lips into a thin line, lifting his chin. “Sounds like the dispute was resolved.”

“How about that hedge fund manager that committed suicide last spring?” Frank said, skewering him with his gaze. “The one that decided to swallow a container full of gasoline and light up a cigarette before jumpin’ off a roof on Park Avenue?”

“Tragic,” Peter replied, deadpan. “I read about it in the news. Guess the shame of stealing $8 million dollars of pension money from a firefighters union must’ve really burned him up inside.”

Agitated, Frank scowled with his eyes narrowed into slits. “How ‘bout in Brooklyn last fall? How do three seasoned drug pushers end up OD’ing on half their own supply of Fentanyl?”

Peter remained expressionless. “Dunno, Frank. Guess the Lord works in mysterious ways." The attorney huffed with nostrils flaring. By contrast, Peter idly see-sawed his head. "Rather poetic," he said, "as far as justice goes.” 

“That’s what I call ‘punishment,’ Parker. Not justice! Vengeance! Plain. Simple. And cold-blooded.”

Peter sat up, leaning forward as his colorless eyes flashed with rage. “Before you accuse me of anything else you can’t prove—especially the messes that New York’s Finest shoulda handled—how ‘bout you explain to me how two innocent women were butchered and burned to death in Midtown and not a single arrest has been made?”

Frank turned silent.

“How ‘bout the dozens of immigrant families who’re bein’ forced against their will to launder the Mayor’s drug money so he can spend it on campaign ads?”

The other man’s jaw clenched while Peter continued his attack. “Let’s keep goin’ shall we?” he hissed. “Tell me how a Russian oligarch and his buddies park a yacht in the harbor—filled with stolen girls—children, practically—and somehow just... get away?” Veins protruded from his neck as anger rippled through his chest. 

“Got any answers for me, Counselor?” Peter spat harshly, jabbing his index finger at Castle as far as he could while in handcuffs. “Wanna phone a friend? How ‘bout you call your boss, yeah? Why don’t you ask Wilson Fisk? Ask yourself! If you’re such a holy man, then how can you work for the Devil?! How can you even sleep at night, huh?I”

Outwardly, Frank was stoic with nothing but a crease between his brows to telegraph his thoughts. Inwardly, Peter could hear the attorney’s heart rate drumming up as Peter relentlessly dressed him down. Castle’s jaw was locked tight, holding his breath.

“And tell me one more thing,” Peter added, eyes flashing with rage. “How many times do you think about what woulda happened if I hadn’t been in the Park that night?” He blurted out the statement with a livid snarl and a dry throat. “What if I hadn’t intervened in the Blacksmith deal? What woulda happened if I hadn’t gotten your wife and kids outta there before the guns started goin’ off? You ever think about that!?”

Peter’s voice buckled on the last word. Memories of the violent night in Central Park five years ago flooded them both, bringing a tidal wave of conflicting emotion that swallowed him up. 

It was Peter that covertly led the FBI to a plan to eliminate several gangs (and Peter’s enemies) at once. Practically a gift from the gods, it seemed, to take out all of Peter’s competition in one swoop. 

Once it was clear to the young mob boss that the FBI cared more about making headlines than making sure the park was clear of innocent people, Peter chose to intervene. In the end, it was a disaster anyway.

When the other gangs realized they were being set up, a shootout erupted. Lives were lost. Peter saved as many people as he could, including Frank Castle and his family. For everyone else, it was still a tragedy. 

Gwen included.

It was the first and last time the two men had met. And subsequently, a night that neither of them ever talked about. 

Until now.

Peter’s eyes glazed over, tortured by the consequences of his choices. A tidal wave of conflicting emotions swallowed him up as his mind flooded with horrible thoughts. Betrayal, and resentment, and bitter, evil, disgusting jealousy that Peter could save Frank’s family but not his own.

Peter looked contemplative, then. Haunted. He fixed his weary eyes on Frank, continuing to unravel.

“And I’m gonna level with ya, pal,” Peter said in an unnervingly soft tone of voice. “Fuck. You. If you think that you and I are the same. You and I are not the same. Never will be.” Heartache pierced his throat, compressing his voice. He jerked his thumb toward himself. “Because somebody saved you.”

Tears glistened as Peter breathed hotly through flared nostrils. “Fuck your judgment!” he growled. “Because if what happened to my family happened to your family—ya wouldn't last a goddamn day! You’d be a nut job! You'd be beggin' for a bullet in ya head, rather than see what I’ve seen!” 

Fury vibrated through the younger man’s being, indignation piercing each sentence. “I don’t give a shit what nickname they call you,” Peter seethed, “in the media... in the Marines... not even in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade! When it’s your family filled with bullet holes—believe me— that shit hits different.”

Peter’s eyes were wild—black with anger, wet with tears. “‘You wouldn't like who you'd become either?’” he repeated, muttering spitefully. “Fuck you!" Peter’s voice echoed, bouncing off the walls and reverberating in Frank’s chest. 

He took a measured breath. His throat bobbed, cords pulled tight. "I may not be a religious man," Peter added as his chest heaved, "but I pray you never have to find out.” His volume abruptly dropped, adding a foreboding sentiment to the words. Like whispering a dark secret. A warning.

Blinding, white hot rage obliterating everything in its path. Scouring any sign of life before its existence.

Castle sat stoically with his arms crossed. Breathless from his outburst, Peter slowly retracted himself back into his seat. Frank studied him with a contemplative gaze and a tight-lipped mouth. 

Until he broke his silence. “Every night.” 

It was barely a whisper. Peter blinked at him with a crooked brow while the other man held Peter in his gaze.

“Every single night,” Frank answered, a little louder, “I think about what would’ve happened to my family if you hadn’t been there.”

Peter pressed his lips together, jaw flexing stiffly. Mist gathered on his lashes. He drew a shaky breath, lip trembling. To keep his eyes from betraying him further, he hardened his brow.

“You’re a hero, Peter,” Castle said simply. It was just a fact. “And a good man.”

Peter averted his gaze, casting it down while he swallowed a thick lump in his throat. 

“You have the power to do good,” he said. “So much more than you realize.” Frank’s eyes swelled with something like reverence and admiration for his antithetical counterpart. “And yeah,” he noted matter-of-factly, “I do pray." He watched him placidly and empathetic. "And when I do, I pray that one day, other people will see you for the man you really are. And maybe... just maybe—you'll see it, too.” 

Shooting pain in his fingers alerted Peter to the fact that his knuckles were clenched white. He kept his head lowered, eyes hidden and fixed on the shackles around his wrists. 

“I pray that you find faith in yourself,” Castle said, then. His soft voice sliced through Peter’s toughened heart. The older man’s lip tightened into a line, his deep voice thick with sorrow. “And salvation... from yourself.”

Peter looked upward. The attorney gazed back at him in earnest. The silence which followed felt like the end of an era.

“You and I want the same thing,” Frank then said, returning to a sense of formality. “You want to expose Wilson Fisk as the Kingpin. So do I.” 

Peter studied Frank’s heart—and his own. Steady. True.

“The only difference,” Castle added, “is I want to do it right: by the law. Justice. Not revenge.” Peter couldn't help but roll his eyes. “Because if we can’t do this right, then it’s not worth doing at all.”

“The only difference is,” Peter countered, “when I take Fisk down, he’s gonna stay down.”

Frank gazed at him incredulously. “That’s nice. Good stuff. You want me to write that down and read it at your funeral?” Peter glared bitterly but had nothing to say. 

“Cards on the table,” Frank explained. “I don’t have enough evidence to charge you. Not today. Now you can walk outta here, go back to your old ways. End up in a casket, or in a jail cell sooner or later. Take my word, there are plenty of people in this building that want you dead. You won’t last a night at Ryker’s without someone tryin’ to stab a broken toothbrush through that giraffe neck of yours.”

“Sounds like it’s gonna be painful,” Peter muttered in a low voice. “For them.”

Frank fixed him with a stern glare. “Alright, smartass. Then what? These people are comin’ for blood. And they’re not going to stop with just yours.” He paused, then added, “You should know that, more than anybody.”

Peter had nothing to say to that. The thought alone stole his breath.

“You wanna fight the system?” Frank said. “You wanna take down Fisk? Then you bring me proof to put ‘em away. All of ‘em. Fisk, Pierce, his little ‘Shield’ SS hit squad. Every last one of them.”

Peter bit his tongue, contemplating the idea.

“And most importantly, you keep your hands clean,” Frank declared sternly. “No more dead car thieves in the river. No more pimps gettin’ scraped off the subway tracks.” His tone was cold, eyes sharp as he skewered Peter threateningly. “There’s enough killing in this city as it is. You cross that line, and I will come for you, you understand? Deal or no deal, our history be damned—you are not allowed to take the law into your own hands. You got that?”

Peter raised his chin, peering at him through the fringe of his slitted eyes. 

The clock ticked on. Primordial elements as old as time surrounded them. And for reasons that Peter could not fully understand, he walked into a coffee shop one day and walked out with hope. A dangerous seed. 

A force that could save the whole city. The world.

Maybe even his own soul.

The district attorney came to a stand, holding the mob boss in his stare. “You’re a free man, Peter,” Frank said. “What happens next is up to you.”

After another moment, he headed for the door. As soon as he placed his hand on the doorknob, he glanced back at the man who he owed his life. With a stone expression, Castle made one final plea.

“Whatever you do... Don’t let me catch you.”

It was half past noon when Honey walked into her modest apartment in the Theater District off 45th Street. 

Flipping on the lights, she peered hesitantly inside. Stepping through the threshold felt like tumbling down a wormhole through time.

More or less, the studio apartment looked exactly the same as it did nearly a half-year ago, when she left for work at the coffee shop. 

It was a bit tidier than how she’d left it—her cheetah print throw blanket neatly folded on the edge of her thrifted loveseat. The smell confirmed that all the perishable food had been discarded. An empty vase sat alone on a scuffed, white, gateleg table that was crammed into a corner of her kitchen. The daisies that it once held had wilted and been tossed long ago.

The world was alien to her. It was like walking through a dream, or onto a theater set piece constructed for a play about her life. These were the possessions of a person she didn’t know anymore.

“We had someone come by earlier with groceries,” a voice said from behind her. She turned as Karen Page strolled into the apartment wearing camel wide-leg wool trousers and a matching double-breasted blazer from The Row paired with Salvatore Ferragamo Vara-bow pumps. “A maid came in once a week to tidy up, but other than that everything should be as you left it.”

Honey blinked with wide eyes as she watched the strawberry-blonde haired woman breeze through her home—former home. She pulled a rolling carry-on case behind her filled with a small portion of Honey’s wardrobe. Karen came to a stop in the center of the apartment. With neatly manicured nails, she produced a keyring from her blazer pocket.

“New keys,” she explained, handing it over to Honey. “Any pertinent mail has been left for you on the counter. The new wifi password is on the sticky note next to it, along with your new cell phone number.”

She had almost forgotten. Honey reached into her coat pocket and pulled out the latest model of iPhone. She stared down at the foreign object queasily. This one had no spider decal, she noted. 

“There’s also a debit card, too,” Karen explained methodically, as if reciting a monotonous dialogue. “New bank account information is in the folder. We’ve made a small deposit to compensate you for your troubles, at least until you find a new job. But you shouldn’t have any more problems from here on out.”

A few seconds of silence passed as Karen eyed the peeling paint on the walls. “Well. I’ll leave you to it, then,” she said, straightforward. 

Honey’s eyes darted over to Karen as the woman turned to leave mouth “Wait!” she called out, her forehead creased and mouth hung agape. Karen stopped in front of the doorway. “Wait... is that it?” she said, dismayed. 

Karen blinked her radiant blue eyes. “Was there something else you needed?”

Her nose crinkled at that. “What about Peter?” Honey said, almost in a demanding tone. “What happens to him?”

Karen cast her eyes to the floor, sighing uncomfortably. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that.”

Honey glared at her crossly. “Well, can I at least talk to him—?”

“It would be best to limit contact at this time.” The pleasant formality of her voice made Honey want to punch her.

“For how long?” she scoffed.

Karen gazed at her for several moments of silence. Which continued on, until Honey realized that an answer wasn’t coming.

“We’ll be in touch,” Karen added gently.

As the woman stepped out into the tenement corridor, Honey nearly jolted after her. “Wait... M-Ms. Page?”

She waited.

“What do I do now?” she asked meekly. Her voice sounded timid to her own ears.

Karen stared back at her then lifted up one of her shoulders. “Whatever you want.” 

And with that, Honey was left alone for the day.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

Continue to Epilogue

[eastcoastelliott]

The story of my 18th Summer with just me and my Brother at the lake. I hope you enjoy.

Me and my BIG Brother CHAPTER One

When I remember my childhood, I fondly remember my family's lakehouse. That old house holds so many memories. My brother and I spent Summer after Summer in the crystal clear waters, diving off the pier, riding jet skis, and lounging away on the hot days. It was a terrific childhood, but the year I turned 18 stands out as the most significant year for me, my brother, and that old house.

I am getting ahead of myself. Let me give you a bit of history about the two brothers named Kyle and Kameron. Our parents were married one year after I was born. My biological father was a jerk and left when Mom got pregnant. She married my Dad when I was about 18 months old. Mom and Dad were in their 30s, so they only dated briefly. Dad's first wife (Kyles's Mom) had died shortly after Kyle was born. Dad wrote my Mom an insurance policy 10 months after her death, and they've been in love since.

Mom has always said, "When you know, you know, and we knew." Technically, Kyle and I were stepbrothers, but we only knew each other as 100% brothers. Even Grandmama said, "The Lord sent your Mama to your Daddy; they needed each other."

We grew up in the 90s. That was when you still played outside until dark, and video games were great, but not our lives. It was also a time when being an "out and proud" gay kid was not very popular, especially in the South. "Will and Grace" was popular, but they hadn't changed the whole country yet. It was far from the acceptance we enjoy today.

 

Kyle and I were two years apart but always close and unusually best friends. He was the oldest, but growing up, we both had matching swimmer builds, greenish/blue eyes, and natural blond/brown hair. Mine was a bit more naturally curly, and Kyles flowed with waves. In our younger years, we were often mistaken as twins. The High School years removed our similarities. Teenage years tend to separate the masses between the jocks, nerds, preps, and plain awkward. Kyle and I Felt that natural selection firsthand.

 

Kyle was the typical straight-A, Gorgeous Jock. Football quarterback, straight out of an 80s teen movie. He was the poster boy for that "type." His athletics and daily workouts led him to a much larger build than mine. I went through a heavy stage in High School. I no longer had a swimmer's build; my only 6 pack was Coca-Cola. I wasn't into sports but excelled in chorus and drama. (Are you shocked?)

I was always a bit "fem" acting. I didn't set out to be that way. It's simply how I was. (It's how I am today.)  I often got a lot of grief because of my natural mannerisms. And anytime Kyle knew about it, he was right there to set the bullies straight. Although we would never have been friends in the 80s teen movie script, we remained as close as any two friends could be. He was my hero. I looked up to him, and although I forced myself to deny it, on a subconscious level, I looked AT HIM.

I never allowed myself to explore any of those thoughts. It was not often, not even daily. But during the intense heat of a JO session, my mind would occasionally journey across the clear boundaries and into the taboo that was my attraction to his physical form. It was impossible for anyone to ignore the raw maleness that dripped from every part of his frame. Hell, I imagine his buddies looked at him with the same natural attraction. Well, maybe not exactly the same? Regardless, NO. He is my brother. And with that, the images and thoughts were buried and ignored.

Our childhood was a good one. We took vacations as a family and spent our summers at the lake. Holidays and annual events were pictures from a Norman Rockwell collection. Today, we are called Generation X, but at that time, we were kids and teenagers, enjoying our youth and living our best lives as the world of social media and technology grew up around us. We always thought of ourselves as fortunate. We were siblings and best pals.

When Kyle left for college, I was devastated. I felt like my world was gone. My days were no longer filled with the warm-hearted big brother, and the first year without him, I got very depressed. I stopped eating, but that depression turned out to be a great weight loss plan. We stayed in touch for the first year. I coveted those holidays.

Things changed in his second year. It was my senior year. It was the first year that I started to "come into my own," if you will. I got in shape, lost weight, and gained a bit of much-needed independence. Kyle didn't come home much that year. He was studying to be in the sports medical field and devoted all his time to school. That was the first year we drifted apart. Although it was only one year, for the first time, we both developed two separate lives. Each one without the other. I remember being so busy and excited about the future that I almost forgot to miss my big brother.

Class of 1998! My Senior year was coming to an end, and the Summer was beginning. Being a bit older than the norm, our parents had both retired by the time I finished High School: Dad from establishing and selling a multimillion-dollar insurance firm and Mom from 30+ years in pharmaceuticals. Their dream and plan was to travel.

They had both worked hard and raised two responsible boys and deserved every moment of retirement. Kyle and I really had two wonderful parents.

 

Summer of '98

 

EVERYTHING changed, and I found out what BIG Brother really means.

June 5th, 1998, I walked across the stage and accepted my High School diploma. (Kyle was too busy to make the event, but I had become used to his absence.)

On June 6th, my parents hugged me, said goodbye, and pulled out of the driveway in a new 42-foot motor home. They were headed on a three-month trip across the country.

On June 7th, I threw my bags in the car, locked the house, and began the trip to our family's lakehouse. I always told my parents I wanted to spend the Summer before college at the lakehouse. I reflected on the past year as I drove the two hours to the lake. It had been a great year, but I was still dealing with my sexuality. I hadn't told anyone, but now I realize that everyone knew but me.

 

I'm a procrastinator, so it was dark when I got to the house. But I was on my own. No parents, no rules, and a whole summer to explore any other "possibly gay, but not really" guys who were at the lake that year? There may be another guy like me looking for a summer romance. My mind was reeling with thoughts.

 

I HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS HEADED MY WAY!

 

I pulled up the drive and under the cart port. I walked up the stairs to the familiar front porch. Motion sensor lights came on every step of the way, illuminating the familiar path I had run so many times as a child. I turned the key and pushed the old wooden door open. The wonderful musky smell of old house and pine walls took me directly back to the years with my family. I pictured the hundreds of times that Kyle and I raced to cross the threshold first. It had been a few years since I had been there. Mom and Dad came a few times each year, and other family members used the house for events. But then I felt tears fall from my eyes as the moment's nostalgia swept me away.

 

I went to the master bedroom and unpacked. The last time I was here was two summers ago when we had our grandparent's 50th anniversary dinner. For years, my family would spend that same week at this house because my Birthday is also in June. This year I would turn 18. However, I insisted on having a quiet celebration alone. That's what I had always planned.

 

Like a movie montage, I wanted to spend my 18th Birthday alone at the lakehouse, preparing myself for the rest of my life. I had pictured symbolic days of self-reflection during which I would gain inner strength and my future would fall into place because of my newfound independence. Drama, remember??

 

I was exhausted from the trip and from the events of the past few days. I finished unpacking and lay across the old, familiar queen-size sleighbed. I soon fell asleep to the wonderful sounds and Arctic cold air produced by the huge old AC unit in the corner window. I dreamt of many things that night. One particular dream was of Kyle. I guess the old smells triggered some memories. I slept as comfortably and securely as I always had within those walls. At some point during the night, I managed to move myself between the cool sheets and found complete rest under one of Grandmama's heavy quilts.

 

The sun began to shine through mini blinds and it crept its way slowly towards my face. I revolted against its intrusion and shoved myself beneath the covers for the wonder of slumber sleep. I had just started to drift back into dreamland when I heard something from the kitchen side of the house. I Shook it off as some groceries I had brought falling. Back to dreamland.

 

PLANK!! OK, that's not groceries. My slumber 100% now over as my fear became completely real. Mouse? No, It's gotta be Jason from Friday the 13th. I'm at a lakehouse, alone. It was definitely the lakeside stranger. He had come to kill his first in-the-closet gay victim like some kind of Dahmer copycat. I knew immediately that my fate was to end up in a freezer. I slowly pulled myself to the edge of the bed. It was cold. The trusty AC had done its job, bringing the room to a meat-hanging temp.

 

BAM-CLACK!!! Yep, it's a killer, and he's not even trying to be discrete. I waited until the AC compressor started again so the killer couldn't hear my steps. Maybe I could run out the front door. I was only wearing a pair of well-worn Calvin Klein boxer briefs, but the neighbors would just have to see the goods. This was life and death. I stepped to the door and peeked through the space between the Frame and the door. All I could see was a baseball cap and a large frame. He appeared to be going back out the back door. That led to the rear porch, where he was obviously getting an axe to kill me. (Again, dramatic me.)

I quickly opened the door halfway and bolted to the front door. DAMNIT!! It was locked and we had installed a Key lock deadbolt in years past to prevent someone from breaking the glass and opening the lock. It was planned for safety. Now it would be the thing that caused my death.

 

The rear door shut, he was coming back in. I ran back to the bedroom, my heart beating through my chest. Oh OK GOD, help me, I thought as his footsteps started towards the bedroom. I didn't know what to do. I hid behind the door. He slowly walked into the bedroom where I had left the door halfway open. It was dark In the room, only the few rays of light to help guide me in this situation. He slowly came in and walked over to the bed. He seemed to be planning to just start slashing me right there without waking me.

 

I held my breath and watched as he got closer and closer to the bed. I had to do something before he realized no one was there. As any level-headed, still in-the-closet, 175-pound gay drama club president would do… I SCREAMED and ran out of the bedroom to the back door, pushing the Intruder over the nightstand and onto the bed. I continued down the back stairs, around the house, and towards the pier. Yes, I ran to the pier. (I now respect people in horror movies. They are not thinking logically.) I ran onto the pier. Not to the street. Not to the neighbors. Not even to my unlocked car. I ran to the pier.

 

 I suppose I was subconsciously planning to swim away from him?  I got to the end of the pier and looked back towards the house. The killer was standing on the porch. My contacts were not in, and my glasses were somewhere on the now-toppled nightstand. I couldn't see any details, but I could see him on the front porch. He had a big frame that looked dark and menacing. He started walking down the steps towards me.

 

PANICK!!!! He was deranged. He was coming to kill me. In broad daylight. He started yelling, My name. "Kameron!! Oh dear God in heaven, blessed mother of Dorothy Zbornack, he knows my name. I Bet he hid under my car like the killer in "Cape Fear." He's been stalking me for years. Waiting for me to be alone. He's gonna make a coat outta my skin. "KAMERON, come on!! "he yelled as he walked closer.

 

Not today, Satan! I jumped off the pier and started swimming to the neighbor's dock. I was a good swimmer and was halfway there when I turned around. I saw my killer at the end of our pier, holding his stomach, laughing. I wiped my eyes and squinted. "Bro, Kameron, it's me, it's Kyle!!!"

 

WHAT??? KYLE??

 

I suddenly felt like a complete idiot. Our lake was not terribly deep and always crystal clear. I was wading water when I dropped my legs and realized I could stand. The water level reached my shoulders as the cool sand crept between my toes. The rush of chilled water helped me gain my composure as the reality of all this came into my mind. I slowly started walking and treading water back towards our pier and my hysterical big brother.

 

"Oh My God, you almost tore the back door off." Ha ha ha Bahaaa!! He was rolling, literally pee-in-pants, “I can’t breathe” laughter, fell from his face. My embarrassing actions now turned to anger. I climbed up the steps onto the pier and lunged at Kyle. "What the Hell BRO. What the fuck are you doing here? You scared the shit outta me." "damn you man this aint funny." I shouted.

 

Still laughing Kyle raised his hands to defend my shoves, "Hey hey, I'm sorry, I was gonna surprise you for your birthday." He stated.

"well, you managed that, asshole," I yelled and gave him one final shove as I stormed off towards the house.

 

"Kameron, hey bro, I'm sorry, don't be mad. I didn't mean to scare you." Kyle retorted as he started coming after me, still laughing under his breath. In my greatest dramatic performance to date, I marched back up onto the front porch and turned towards him. "I seriously could have had a heart attack, did you even think about anything? Mr Doctor?" Realizing how super silly that statement was, I couldn't help but crack a smile when I turned and looked at him.

 

I hadn't seen Kyle in almost a year. If he had been studying, it must have been in a gym with tanning bulbs in the ceiling. He stood there in ripped jeans, brilliant white sneakers, and a black tank top that clung to each muscle as if it were holding on for its very existence. A thread-bare white shirt draped perfectly over his full shape, and a college cap fit tight on his head with that expertly curved bill.

 

I looked into his bright green eyes and saw true regret, as if his county fair balloon had just popped. I melted a bit, but I still held onto my self-presumed sibling rivalry and smiled.

I don't know much about "Mary," but there is something about Kyle that makes my world better. I smiled bigger.

 

"Well. I guess it was a little funny." I said as I issued a brief parole from his previous sentence. "He beamed those million-dollar teeth back at me and said, "Damn right it was. Funny-as hell. But you almost made me stab myself with the nightstand and lamp. Dumb-ass…” He said as he ran up onto the porch to give me a hug.

 

His arms engulfed me. I melted into his embrace, his friendship, and his general love for me. The connection that had always been so natural returned immediately. We jostled and tossed each other's hair as we shared a heartfelt greeting. Keeping our masculine bravado, we both knew that all was well within our world.

 

He pushed me back and said, "Lil bro, you look great. Damn, do I need to barricade the door to block all the high school hotties from getting in here? Mom and Dad said you'd lost weight but damn bro. You look incredible."

 

I blushed and literally soaked in the compliments like a dry sponge. I had, in fact, changed. My braces were off, and my chest was defined. I had an early tan, which made my teeth even brighter than they actually were. I'd also let my curly hair grow a bit, giving me a surfer kid kind of look. I hadn't started to realize all the changes until that moment. I think about that even today.

 

The next few comments left me with a permanent blush and more than a few questions.

"Bro, I can't get over the change. We are Definitely gonna have to board up the doors when they find out the two gorgeous Kirkland boys are in this house." Kyle continued as he made his way past me to the front door. We had always been close and he had always been kind. But we had never shared compliments on looks or physique. You know, we kept it “All Bro.”

 

"Man, shut up. I'm still pissed at you, so I'm not buying the flattery and Kyle charm." I shot back. Then he looked down and spoke. "Theres no flattering needed lil bro,  and from the looks of whats slipping out of those wet shorts, it appears that you've grown a delicious bit of gorgeousness of your own." He stated with a wink and walked into the house.

 

I looked down and somewhere in all th struggles my well worn Calvins had ripped. One previous rip had now been torn much further, and a new rip at the "easy access" pouch had also ripped. These two strategic tears had left the large mushroom head of my cut cock, and the midsection of my hefty shaft exposed to the morning sun. I quickly covered myself and went inside. Red as a beet!!

 

What did Kyle say? Did I hear him right? Did he say delicious? gorgeousness?

I'm sure he didn't say delicious? No. Right‽ I was filled with emotions I had never felt. Something stirred within me. Something erotic, yet taboo. I questioned every word spoken on that porch. Today I know what he said, and I know that he meant to enlist those exact emotions. But in that moment, I had no idea what was happening. I certainly didn't know what life changes that Summer would bring.

 

Chapter Two

The morning had begun with fear and embarrassment. My mind was still reeling from the roller coaster of emotions I had just experienced.

I walked to the house towards the master bath. As I stepped into the room, I found the lamp on the floor, the shade bent, and the light bulb broken. It had met its fate when I made my daring escape from my serial killer, Big Brother. I straightened up the nightstand and lazily shoved the broken glass under the corner to deal with later. Typically, I would have cleaned that up immediately. But at this moment, my mind was focused on much more. My head was spinning, and my heart was still beating with excitement. Had I just heard things, right? Had my brother called my dick delicious? Was he staring at it? Was he staring at me? No way. But he definitely said “delicious.” It must be some new college term that I was not hip to? Surely, I'd misread that. Misread or not. My cock jumped with excitement at the thought of Kyle looking at me.

As I carefully moved the final piece of broken glass, I couldn't help but chuckle with laughter. Thinking about my actions and picturing me running and jumping into the lake. That was funny, I had to admit it. I was on one knee with my left side to the door when Kyle stepped into the doorway.

He leaned in, placing his hands on either side of the doorway. They wrapped themselves around the doorframe, holding the weight of his body. His abrupt halt had caused beautiful natural blonde streaks to sway towards his cheekbones. They came to rest at the edge of his cheeks as if to cradle the sculpted perfection. His large physique filled the entrance as if he were perfectly chiseled out of a piece of flawless tanned ivory. I was suddenly looking at the cover of a teen romance novel as the daylight illuminated the room behind him. As he leaned in, his biceps flexed and stretched the paper-thin fabric of the white fabric clinging to his body.

Thankfully my cock was exposed on the opposite side of my body because it jumped again and started its ascent to the sky.

 

The combination of morning, ripped Calvins, and Kyle was too much for my 18-year-old hormones to handle. "Oh Shit, did you break it?" He questioned. "Hell no, you broke it." I retorted with a peal of continuous laughter, careful to hide my growing member. He gave me the trademarked million-dollar smile, rolled his beautiful green eyes, and muttered, "Whatever, Lil bro…" as he bounced to the kitchen.

I waited until I could clearly hear him in the kitchen, then I stood up and quickly stepped to the bathroom. Closing and locking the door, I took a deep breath.

I then took a brief moment to deal with something I hadn't given much thought to in a while. Kyle had been away for so long. I had not had to deal with these feelings in some time. It had been a year since I sat in my bedroom, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of Kyle getting out of the shower. Even longer since I had watched him play ball in the backyard or help dad around the house in running shorts. The guilt and combined shame of this hidden lust had not been an issue for some time. I had hoped and prayed it was a teenage phase or hormonal puberty thing. The gay thoughts were dealt with, but the taboo of this??? No, No, I couldn't go back to pining over Kyle again. Those thoughts were buried long ago, never to resurface. RIGHT?  But what the hell had just happened? Had my Bog Brother just flirted with me?

 

WHAT in literal HELL???

 

My mind was more confused than a peach tree blooming in December. My mind was reeling with incredibly inappropriate thoughts of Kyle. The layers of denial were stripped away, and the reality of that “desire” came back to the surface with a fury.

 

I grabbed a towel and started to dry my wet hair. As I looked up and started to ruffle the other side of my head, I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror. There stood a smaller version of Kyle. The similarities that we had as kids had returned. Of course there were differences, but I was looking at a smaller version of my brother. Kyle with ripped Calvins, a toned, tanned build, and freshly shaved heavy balls presenting a hefty semi-hard-on. I had jerked off to the mirror many times before. Picturing it was another guy. But I had not done so since my body had blossomed into my brother's smaller framed double. I dropped the towel to the floor and guided my right hand to my dick. I grasped the shaft, and, with two strokes, I was rock hard. I didn’t try to bury anything. I allowed my mind to run free. Fresh and raw visions of my brother flooded my mind. I stepped closer to the mirror. My hand was now starting to work with a pleasurable rhythm. I allowed my left hand to touch my chest and slid it down to the waistband of the partially destroyed boxer briefs. The HOTNESS of being partially nude was too tempting as I played with the waistband and pulled it down touching the base of my shaft.

 

I focused my attention on my body and cock as I held its rigid straightness tightly in my hand. Up and down the pole, I stroked, imagining my brother's cock in my hand. I halted briefly and allowed saliva to fall from my mouth and land on the head of my cock. I kept the rhythm as I simply allowed the natural lubricant to engulf my rod, intensifying the desire. My left hand now stretching the waistband of my underwear further down, allowing its elasticity to rub against my hard dick. I released the waistband and propped myself against the wall with my left hand as I started to feel that beautiful release building up inside me. I thought of my tongue reaching forward to touch the tip of Kyles Dick.

 

Sweat started to bead on my forehead as my mind raced to Kyle. I imagined his hands pulling me up for a deep, passionate kiss right before leading me gently back down to his crotch. I could almost feel his two hands caress the back of my head as he guided my lips towards his thick, throbbing manhood. I thought of him saying: "Its all yours lil brother, Ive wanted you for so long." With that thought I exploded onto the mirror.

 

Stream after stream of hot cum hit the mirror with a force that seemed enough to crack its surface. The strength of my youthful cum shot was evident as  I watched the creamy substance splatter on the surface. As each pulse of cum hit the reflective surface, I wished it was my face being rewarded with Kyle's seed. I shook with pleasure as the orgasm rippled through me. The last stream hit the floor as the fluid started to drip from my mushroom head and spilled on my thumb. I brought the cum to my lip and applied it like gloss, then allowed my tongue to taste its sweet saltiness. I trembled with final waves of orgasm as I pictured myself tasting my Big Brother.

 

Breathing heavily, I closed my eyes and allowed reality to once again invade my fantasy. I turned towards the shower and started the water. The smell of bacon began to fill the air as I heard Kyle shout. "Jerk it quick, dipshit, Im cooking breakfast." We had always teased one another about this. If he had only knew how many times he had yelled that same thing while I was doing just that, secretly thinking about him. This time had been different. He had given me more to work with than just passing glimpses and tight clothing. He had actually talked about ME, and commented on ME. Not just me, but he called my cock delicious.

 

I cleaned the mirror and stepped into the shower all the while trying to figure out those comments. I realized something as I soaped up and allowed the warm water to refocus my attention. The guilt and shame that normally followed a "Kyle centered orgasm," was no longer there. I had to remind myself that it was not normal. I actually had to tell myself, "It’s your BROTHER, Kameron…” I guess my Baptist upbringing allowed some shred of guilt to creep back in, but there was still some kind of acceptance going on. There was definitely less guilt, and for the first time, my thoughts didn’t bring the disgrace it had always bestowed.

 

Again, What in Baptist HELL???

 

Breakfast was the same as hundreds of times before. The two Kirkland brothers sitting at the round oak table teasing one another, talking and laughing, having breakfast at the lake. The past year had been the longest we had been apart. I had often wondered if our reunion would be awkward. You know how things are when you’re not around someone. Sometimes, it takes a while to regain that level of oneness. It took us about three seconds. Since the terror of the morning had passed, when I walked into the kitchen for breakfast, I was greeted by Kyle. My Brother. My Best Friend. My Kyle.

 

It turns out that He had been working and studying so that he could spend part of the Summer at the lake as well. It had been a surprise that Mom and Dad helped coordinate. Up until that day, I had truly wanted to be here alone, but Kyle being with me felt safe, normal, and truly meant to be. We had a terrific day being lazy, just enjoying one another. Laughing and catching up. We spent most of the day at the end of the pier in the sun or swimming. We had some lunch out there, and it was like our childhood. Ham sandwiches and chips with cans of SunDrop. The day was filled with Great Big inner tubes, floating chairs, and the smell of tanning oil.

 

It was a terrific day for me. I got to keep my eyes planted on my gorgeous brother all day long. He wasn’t wearing a Speedo or anything revealing. Instead, he chose a pair of board shorts. Trust me, in my imagination, they got removed each time he came out of the water.

There was some odd spirit in the air all day. I couldn’t place it, but I remember there being a calm, almost freedom between us that we had never experienced. I believed it was the fact that we had both grown older and more mature. Looking back, I can clearly see what was happening that day. That entire day, Kyle kept telling me that he had a surprise planned. Something major planned for later.

 

After lunch we even went back to the house for a nap because he said: “We will need our rest for later.” He kept saying that he wanted my 18th Birthday to be the best of my life, and he was here to make sure that happened. I had no idea what he meant. At the time. Today, I believe he had the night planned out all along. That Birthday remains My Favorite Birthday Celebration of all time!! That day was a precursor for our entire Summer. It shaped my entire life and Kyles.

We look back sometimes, and…  Well, I'm getting ahead of myself again.

 

 

Chapter Three

 

Me and My BIG Brother pt 3

 

The sun began to set on my 18th birthday as I woke from an afternoon nap. Kyle had insisted that we take a nap. Although it wasn't my typical routine, the sun had drained me. The thought of curling up in one of Gran's heavy blankets with that big ole window unit blowing arctic air into the dark lakehouse bedroom sounded like heaven. It was. (Many times over the years, I have found myself full of tears thinking of that wonderful old room, and Gran.) 

When I opened my eyes, I saw twilight colors peeking through the window. The air was filled with that lazy summer, Saturday afternoon feeling. The days when you had no specific plans, and no obligations to fulfill. God had painted the sky with shades of pink, orange, and red. The hues melted together as they spilled through the blinds and onto the pinewood planks. I slipped out of bed and headed to witness the full spectrum of the sunset. One of the most spectacular things about the Lake was its sunsets. They could easily take your breath away. This one was no disappointment.

 

With hair pressed to one side of my head, I swayed towards the living room. Kyle was nowhere to be found. The house was expansive; he could have been anywhere. I assumed he had taken refuge in our childhood bedroom, and I was correct. I opened the door to find him asleep on the bottom of our old bunk bed. The nostalgia was immense, but the picture was quite different. Where there had once been a skinny kid curled under a blanket, now lay a broad-shouldered man. He now encompassed the entire space with one leg off the side. A twin-sized mattress, no longer able to hold his full form. I watched him breathe and let my mind wander.

 

I thought of my life after this summer. I thought of Kyle's life at school and the current paths of all my family. The four of us were always a close bunch, but now it seemed we had separate journeys. Our parents were now determined to spend their retirement exploring the world, as well as they should; they certainly deserved it. They had made their intentions clear for years with phrases like, "Boys, when your Mom and I retire, you'll have to send a messenger pigeon to find us." Mom would say, "Yall, make sure you get a job that supports you because we don't plan to leave you a dime. You can have the house and the RV. Unless we need to sell the house to keep up our expensive on-the-road lifestyle." Dad would chime in, "By that time, y'all should be doing well on your own. You can send us money and support us until we drive over the same cliff as Thelma and Louise did." This was always followed by laughter, yet we knew that a portion was completely true. I chuckled at the thoughts.

 

I started thinking about what our lives would be like in the next few years. I'm sure Kyle would find a girl and get married. What would I do? I had known I was gay for some time now. I knew Mom and Dad knew as well. We simply hadn't talked about it. That's how things were as Southern Baptists in the 90s. You threw things under the rug and left them alone, like normal people. There were very few deep talks about feelings. Both Mom and Dad were supportive and loving, but we let things go without words. Wait until I tell you how I "came out." So typical for my family.

 

Back to the Lakehouse… As my mind pondered the many unknowns, I stood in the doorway and just listened to Kyle sleep. It was an adorable sight. He had a slight snore. Nothing obnoxious, only enough to let you know he was asleep. His tanned leg caught the same sunset that I had just seen. The rays of color leaped from one side of the room to the other as they struck his perfect jawline, casting a flawless shadow onto his chest. I thought; “that sunset ain't the only thing God did well.” About then, I glanced at the small dresser mirror and saw even more of that resemblance. I looked back at Kyle just in time to watch the afternoon's amber rays meet the emerald green in Kyle's half opened eyes. I heard, "Are you just standing there looking at yourself in the mirror? Get out, get your own mirror; this one is for my face." He muttered and laughed as he stretched himself awake.

 

I was a bit embarrassed that he had caught me watching him, but I played it off and started walking towards the dresser to dig through the drawer. "So, what's the plan? What's this amazing memory we're going to create? Wait, are you taking me on some kind of hunting thing with one of your high school buddies? Cause if I have to dress in camouflage, I didn't bring a thing." I stated with my usual quick wit and shallow comic timing. "And I ain't shooting nothin'," I added with the same demeanor. Kyle rolled his eyes and leaned up in the tiny bed. He rested on his elbows and said, "I guess you could say it's a bit of hunting. But you're going to have to help me out this time. I'm taking you to the hunting grounds." He winked and shot me a shy and devious smile. I stood there and pondered on what he could have meant as he hopped up and headed towards the hallway bathroom. He punched my arm as he passed by and said, Come on, Get ready. We have a whole night ahead of us." He was in the bathroom before I could protest or question any further.

I left the bedroom doorway and started walking back to the master bedroom. That was not typically my room, but I claimed it for this summer. Since Kyle was in the shower, I unpacked the remainder of my things. The last 36 hours had been filled with too much excitement to worry about unpacking. I gently placed one summer's worth of items into the cedar-scented dresser drawers. My mind was racing; Hunting Grounds? What did that mean? I didn't give it much more thought as my mind began to focus on spending the evening with my Big Brother.

The closest major city was a port town called Wilmington, NC. There was a mid-size town of approximately 150 thousand people. The great thing about it was the mixture of cultures. It hugged the coast of North Carolina, so one part of town carried a definite laid-back beach surfer vibe. However, traveling about 20 miles across town, the downtown area boasted an Urban Bohemian feeling. The lakehouse was in a tiny community surrounding the Lake. There was a general store, a gas station, a small Walmart and a handful of mom-and-pop restaurants. Over the years, we have traveled to this city many times for supplies and items that are unavailable locally. I assumed that Kyle had something planned there. The lazy lakeside community was not big on nightlife. My mind continued to race as I heard the bathroom door open.

"Hey, Bro, I'm out. Get Ready; I know how long it takes you." He yelled as I heard the wet bare feet hitting the hardwood floor as they traveled across the hallway.

"Shut Up," I demanded as I closed the dresser drawers and turned to make my way towards Kyle's room. "What am I supposed to wear? I seriously don't have camouflage. I didn't bring much." I spoke as I walked towards his room to hear him better. In complete honesty, I could hear him fine. I was walking closer to see him fresh out of the shower. The sight of My Brother with a towel around his waist was a vision I had not drooled over in some time. I figured, lets add to the photobook. I continued mumbling as I got closer to the entrance, "I was not planning to go to a prom; all I brought were clothes to hang ar… round, in…" My words slowed to a dead stop and stumbled into a blubber as I arrived at Kyles wide open door and looked up. Kyle was standing at the side of the bed with a pair of wide waistband blue briefs in one hand and red CK boxer briefs in the other. Other than these articles of clothing, nothing else was touching his body. He was completely naked. He held both pairs of underwear up, gave each one an inquisitive look, and said, "Ok, tell me, blue or red."

My heart may have briefly stopped. My eyes immediately started to work overtime as I surveyed the vision and stored snapshots for later memory. I had seen Kyle before, but those had been sneaked peeks. They were small glimpses and occasional bathroom moments. I had never been given such a bold, deliberately unobstructed view. I also quickly scanned the changes that had manifested over the past year. Today had obviously been the only time he had tanned while wearing shorts. His minimal tan lines drew a reddish-pink line across his waistline and above his knees. He was smooth almost everywhere. A dusting of blonde leg hair covered his beautiful stems. The evening twilight had since given way to a dark purple sky, and the lights inside the house gave off an enchanting Amber glow. The shadows seemed to highlight Kyle's Heavenly features. A perfect group of muscles gathered to form a deeply defined Adonis Belt V that seemed to point to the Grand Prize.

It was definitely worth the attention, and my soul gave a standing ovation as my eyes drank in this marvelous view. Kyle's package was neatly shaven but not completely. Two heavy balls hung lazily on either side of an equally weighted, perfectly formed Cock. His balls were smooth and served as the superb backdrop for such an incredible piece of God's artistry.

His dick was just like mine, but longer and thicker. It looked semi-hard as its weight hung low and commanded the attention of all the air around it. Y’all, I swear I think the damn thing glowed with a golden aura.  I was stunned, and I stared directly at it. It was male perfection. There was no hiding or glancing. I did not look away and say, "I'm sorry." Once my two eyes met this sight, I was in a trance.

Kyle stood before me with the confidence of a New York runway model. He was holding two pairs of underwear in his hands like puppets. He looked as innocent as a lamb as he intentionally allowed me to remain in this dumbfounded stooper. I finally circled the wagons in my mind and landed back on the Prairie. I stumbled through the words, "Umm, Red, ah, but I like the blue too…" I'm honestly shocked I said that much.

"Let me try them on…" He started as he tossed the red pair in the bed and turned to put in the blue. “…cause they both look good, but I think one makes the goods look better." He faced me full frontal again. "I got these from a friend in school. He sells them and asked me to model them for a promo thing. I got to keep all the undies." He continued as he strutted across the room to see himself in the mirror. His left side was towards me as he looked back at the mirror behind him, saying, "They are comfortable as Fuck, and I never thought I'd give a damn about underwear, but I may be spoiled."

The entire time Kyle walked around the room, I just watched and tried to think of what to say. I wanted to be cool, calm, and collected, but the only thing being collected was blood as it raced to harden my dick. There was no way to hide it. I was in boxer briefs myself. I pushed myself to the doorframe and said. "I like those, but let's see the red ones." I was pretty damn bold now. I wanted another view of that massive cock.

"Yeah, they're comfortable too, and I think these show off the package better. I'll let you decide." Kyle stated as his tanned thumbs slipped into the waistband of the blue pair. I was almost confident he was getting harder, and that was confirmed as the head of his cock slid from the bondage of the blue fabric. It flopped out and presented its (definite) semi-hard self to the world as Kyle tossed one garment on the bed and leaned over for the other. When he came back up with the red pair in his hand, he opened his arms and said. "Well, I'm sorry, Lil bro, I'm guessing he approves of the audience. He sure seems to be pointing towards you. Maybe he missed you watching him?" He confessed with a grip as he slipped one leg and then the other into the red boxer briefs.

Stunned, I finally looked up and muttered, "What? Watching … him? what?" My face flushed with the same deluge of blood that had rushed to my dick. My heart was pumping in tandem, trying to fill my cock and my face with blood at the same time. I was beet red and starting to sweat as I searched for the next words to say. "Hey, hey, no, no, I didn't mean it like that." He started as he approached me and placed his right hand on my shoulder. "I'm not angry or giving you a hard time." His voice was slower now, like a gentle whisper. His face was so close to mine that his breath caressed my cheek. “Kameron, It's ok; honestly, I've always enjoyed you watching me." He continued as his hand slid off my shoulder and tightened around my bicep. "Hey bro, I've always known you were watching me in the shower. I tried to make sure you saw what you wanted to see." He whispered.

I stared at the floor with enough concentration to look directly through the wood planks to the ground below. My heart was beating in my ears, my cock was throbbing, and my body was trembling. Kyle took his left hand and brought it to my cheek. He slowly cradled my chin and brought my eyes up to meet his. "Was I right or wrong?" Kyle asked with a louder, sultry, matter-of-fact expression. He tilted his head to the right, smiled ever so slightly, and came closer. His hips guided his still semi-hard cock to mine. The fabric containing his stiff manhood softly brushed the stretched cotton holding in my hard dick. He then slid his hand to my hand and started to draw imaginary lines from my middle knuckle to the bend in my wrist.

"It Seems like I was right all these years. This is what you wanted to see." When he said the word "THIS" he pressed himself harder into my hard-on. I thought I might faint as I stood there without saying a word. Kyle's breath passed my face; his eyes remained deadlocked on mine. My brain took a moment to register the situation, and my hormones took over as I leaned forward. Kyle's tongue stretched forth to wet his full lips. The moist heat felt like warm oil dripping over my body as our lips gently touched. It was a light and soft kiss, then another. Our lips were teasing one another. Together then apart, then back together again to find themselves within centimeters of one another.

Kyle's cock was now rock hard, and it found its rightful place as it was pressed directly next to my rigid cock. The two pieces of male flesh raged together as if they were part of the same body, perfectly fit to live together. The only thing preventing their touch was two layers of translucent material. This barrier was now the only thing preventing the complete disclosure of the contents hidden deep within our own Pandora's box. Years of fantasy and desire were now a reality. I had scripted millions of scenes between Kyle and me in my mind, yet none contained the passion and ecstasy of this moment. This wasn't a script, and this wasn't a daydream. I finally broke my silence and said, "Kyle, I want to." He stopped me with another kiss, then pulled himself away far enough to take my hand and guide it to his dick. His breath shuttered when my hand made contact. I wrapped my fingers around Kyles perfect cock and gently rubbed it up and down as if following an animal instinct. We both took a breath as if it were the first one after being submerged and deprived of oxygen.

We exhaled, and Kyle said, "I hope that is what you want because I've wanted to feel your hands on my cock for a long time." I leaned in to kiss him, and we both started to move back into the room. My right hand reached for his waistline, and I allowed my fingers to pull back the elastic fibers. I was about to actually feel my brother's erect cock for the first time. The palm of my hand was hot with anticipation. The years of thirst were about to be quenched as I inched further towards Kyles concrete rod. My body was still halfway in the dimly lit hallway. Suddenly the motion sensor light beamed light onto the porch, and the solid glass door allowed it to flood the hallway with light. At that exact moment, we heard a shrill voice, "YooHoo, Kameron!!! It's Aunt Patty!! Knock Knock!!"

DAMNIT!!!!

[calliedion-dungeon]

My Fanfic List

Hi, I'm Callie, I realized that maybe instead of just dropping my thingys I might as well say something in the way. So, I'm just a human woman who's imagination has been assaulted by the Ghost/Repugnant train and I just will let it consume my life and soul.

I'm relatively new in Tumblr and english is not my first language, so bare with me with my mispellings, since I don't have many people to show my works and help me correct them. Thank you if you manage to read up to this point.

Main account @calitmediondell so don't be scared if I respond from there.

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Primo - Papa Emeritus I

❦Say it with flowers (One Shot) 2.6k words- Young Primo/GN Reader, Fluff.

Terzo and Secondo

𖤐Cardinal Brothers (Coming some time in the future) Story of an adventure of the cardinals Terzo and Secondo in late 80's/stranded in a little conservative christian town/ heavely based on "To Wong Foo" movie 1995.

Cardinal Copia

𖤐Serious Killer (20.3k words) Dracopia fic - Epic friendship- Dracopia/Cardinal Copia/GN-Reader, SFW

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / ? (indefinite hiatus)

𖤐Dark Lipstick (2.2k words) Cardinal Copia/reader Fem/V - +18 MDNI. Sex Toys, Flirting, Edging

𖤐 Sweet Lip Balm (Second part of Dark Lipstick) (4k words) +18 MDNI. Sex Toys

𖤐 Hot Cherry Bomb (Third part of Dark Lipstick) (3.8k words) +18 MDNI Smut, Blood Kink, semi-public Sex

Mary Goore

𖤐Stiff Enough (Finished) (11k words) NSFW, Smut! MDNI, Mary Goore/fem OC

𖤐Chistmas Carol of the Goor-y Present (Finished) (13k words) (Second part of "Stiff Enough") NSFW, Smut! MDNI, Mary Goore/fem OC

🜏The Beastly Ones are in Command (4.3k words) (One Shot) Mary Goore - Poltergeist,Implied/References Child Abuse. Rated Mature Please mind the tags

☥ Madness, Pain and Shadows (Finished) Mary Goore as The Crow - Blood Violence, Child Death, Mental Health Issues, Rated Mature Please mind the tags

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

𖤓Sore Kisses - [Long Haired Blonde] Mary Goore/Fem Reader NSFW, Smut! MDNI

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15 / 16 / 17 / 18 / ?

Fanart (?)

Ghost Beanie / Mary Goore's Poltergeist /

Mary Goore Sad Hours Guitar Solo / Topo Gigio as Cardinal Copia

[kinryunomaii]

Kat Murata - General Informations

Full name: Kathleen Murata

Nicknames: Kat, KitKat, Kiiro no ryū (Yellow Dragon), The Berserker, Boss, Sunny

Age: 26 by default. Depending on the verse but 3 years older than Jounouchi

Birthday: 30 May ( Gemini )

Birthplace: Domino City

Current residence: Domino City

Nationality: Japanese

Ethnicity: Japanese/Russian/Swedish

Gender: female

Sexuality: Heterosexual. Sort of Demi-romantic

Appearance

Height: 1m90 (6′3”)

Weight: 85 kg (187lb)

Body type: Muscular, shaped by dance & combats

Face: Mostly Swedish features. Round, full lips, button nose with a scar on the edge. Freckles when she tans.

Hair: Wavy bob haircut, golden blonde

Eyes: Blue

Scars: An inverted V one on the nose, razor ones on her left wrist, circular ones on her upper back (from the summoning circle), a line on her abs, several smaller scars on the arms, body and legs, and cigarette burns on the right arms.

Tattoos: 3 dragon tattoos, one around her left wrist, one big yakuza one on her upper back with his tail that ends under her left breast, and one small on her right inner thigh.

Clothing style: flashy clothes, mostly crop top, hoodies, shorts, street-wear.

Scent: her cheap shampoo that smell candy for the hair, lemon for the body.

Powers: When Xeras is in control, regeneration, shadows manipulation, supernatural strength

Personality

Mental/Emotional disorder(s): Borderline personality disorder(false diagnostic: symptoms mostly due to Xeras’ possession), PTSD

Phobias: Musophobia(rodents), Nyctophobia (darkness), loss of limbs or paralysis.

Addictions: Risky gambles (involving her own security), coca cola, coffee, jelly coffee, sex

Likes: - Dance (hip hop, New Age ) She’s good at it. - 80’s songs and punk rock. But only people close to her know it. - Giving food related nicknames - Omelet - Pizza - Banana-chocolate ice-cream - Mostly all food - Coffee - Dragons - Playing Duel Monsters - Even more Dragons - Bowling - Space - Horror / Monster/Kaiju Movies - Sitting on anything

Doesn’t like: - Bullies - Doctors - University - Authority in general - Serial killer movies - Rodents - Being in the Dark - Disrespect

Hobbies: - Roller skating - Dancing - Dueling - Video games - Boxing, Full-contact - Yoga - Vogue fem

Habits: Turn things into competitions, stealing your food, entering where she shouldn’t.

Negative traits: Don’t know when to back down sometimes, can be pushy and loud, heavy eater, hot-tempered, don’t know how to lie for trivial things, she's attracted by power.

Positive traits: Seems to always smile, try until she succeeds, loyal, curious, ambitious.

Equipment: A knife in her boots or under her clothes, another one in her backpack that she always has. Her deck and her duel disk, battle city version.

Trinkets: Her old phone. She always has in her backpack, a USB key that was from her dad.

Collections: Several ones. Knives, guns, duel monster cards.

[beautifulfaaces]

Jessie Cave

Facts

May 5, 1987

English actress

Filmography

Rosie [Buffering: 2021]

Martha [Benjamin: 2018]

Kerry [Modern Life Is Rubbish: 2017]

Annie [Glue: 2014]

Lavender [Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince: 2009]

Stella [Summerhill: 2008]

Appearance

dark blonde

blue eyes

1.63m

Roleplay

playable: young adult, adult

Icons: Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

[romanshomeonwattpad]

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

✧ summary — the reader is new to all things sexual, so her best friend elliot decides to help her out with that.

✧ pairings — bestfriend!elliot x fem!reader

✧ warnings — taking drugs,really bad mindset,if the thought of drugs makes you wanna relapse pls don’t read this,addiction,the reader sucks in this

✧ authors note — no words.

✧ chapters — 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

┏━━━ ━━━┓

Your brain was fuzzy, eyes squinting over at Elliot, who’s arm was stretched over the steering wheel. Through your hazy mind, you noticed veins protruding from his tan flesh—his teeth sinking into his finger as he drove in a horrible manner. The speedometer read 80 miles per hour, and then a little over, causing your eyes to grow wind before gulping. Your throat was really dry. About to ask for a water bottle, you shook your head, remembering you were going to scold him, “Elliot—slow dow—“

“You gonna say slow down?” He scoffed bitterly, not even glancing at you as he stomped harder onto the gas. Tightening your jaw, you felt your heart rate increase drastically, but you weren’t going to let him think he scared you. Instead, you leaned up in your seat, puffing your chest as you sent him a glare. His face was stone cold, expression not rippling as his eyes flickered over to yours, “What? You gonna try to convince me telepathically to stop this car, princess?”

The nickname didn’t sound sweet from him. Instead, he spat it out in disgust, irritation crossing his features at your silence. The sound of the engine roared as you refused to check the road, making sure it was empty, and instead kept your eyes glued to his dark ones. Flickering his gaze between you and the road, his chest began to heave as you didn’t back down from your stand, the wind blowing your hair back away from your face.

You didn’t want to admit it, but you trusted him. Something within your being told you to trust him, and every fiber in your insides danced at the way he looked at you, “You’re unbelievable,” he harshly sighed before slowly easing to a safer speed, words coming out with an icy laugh. Gulping, you blinked at him as he rounded a corner—looking away from your empty stare, “I’ve never met anyone like you, Y/N. Never had someone piss me off so fucking much.”

Thinning your eyes, you began to grow confused as to what he was referring about.

“What are you even talking about, Elliot?”

Your voice finally rang through the car, but it didn’t faze him, instead him sending you a death glare before pulling roughly into a stop. You two were on the side of the road, no one ever passing through this area, as you leaned your elbow against the passenger’s dash board to look at him fully. He rested his hand on his forehead, nostrils flared and face made of stone. Tucking a few strands of hair out of your face behind your ear, you furrowed your brows at him, “What did—“

“Nate Jacobs is what you did,” he banged on his steering wheel, then pointing a finger in your face, “If I hadn’t been there, seeing him try to sneak into the bathroom with you while you were passed out, God fucking knows what he would’ve done, Y/N,” his tone was loud, baring his teeth slightly. You had never seen him so upset like this, eyes wide and swirling with unfiltered rage. But you were sick of his stupid games. “It’s like, I can’t leave you alone for five—and the drugs? You don’t do drugs, Y/N, so why the fuck did you even think about—“

You threw a brow at him, “Last time I checked, what I do is none of your—“

You didn’t know what happened. The drugs had taken their course, and you were completely sober now, especially by this heated intervention from the fuming blonde in the drivers’ seat. But then his hand flew to your neck, lightly squeezing the airway, causing a gasp to tear from your chapped lips. It wasn’t aggressive at all, but more so on the possessive side, eyes bulging as a reaction to it.

Bringing your face up to his, you felt his warm breath fan your lips, but his dark eyes bored down into yours. The glistening of blood that stained the passage between his lips and the bottom of his nostrils shined in the moonlight, accentuating his beauty. Brunette hairs on his chin made you remember how they rub your skin raw whenever you made out, but in the most delicious way possible.

“Finish that sentence with business, and I swear to god, I’ll fucking make you ride my dick until your legs fall off,” he hissed before releasing you, shifting the stick into drive, and zooming off back down the road. You blinked at surprise at his words, instantly feeling something pool between your thighs, watching with a mixture of both confusion and lust as Elliot didn’t say anything else. What did he say? Your mind began to spin as an incredible wave of arousal washed over you, slowly building up in your core.

The ride went quiet after that. Only thing being heard was light tunes of the radio that was basically background music. Never removing your eyes from Elliot, you were soon enough in front of your house, his eyes avoiding yours as he looked out the rear view window. Dried blood that looked as if it ran down his arm, he wiped his nose, sniffling, “Hurry up before your parents see me,” he muttered in a dry tone, pursing his lips, “They already don’t like me anyways.”

It was true. You recalled Elliot picking you up one time, playing obnoxiously loud rap music—which caused her mom to always make a twisted face whenever mentioning him, so at that point, you stopped.

Swallowing thickly, you unbuckled your seatbelt, which you had forgetten when you even buckled it to begin with. When it clicked, you sat up, sending him a frustrated look; brows snapped together and lips in a thin, firm line, “Maybe we should stop seeing each other,” you blurted out, causing his shoulders to lock up at your idea. Pushing open the door, he still didn’t meet your stare, setting you off even more, “For fucks sake, Elliot, you won’t even look at me. I’m not dealing with this immature shit anymore.”

And with that, you climbed out, and slammed the car door behind you before storming off inside your house.

Digging yourself further into your covers, your cheeks had been stained with tears ever since you had woken up. Your chest felt clogged, like you weren’t able to breathe properly—lower lip trembling as you sobbed into your palm for the millionth time. You didn’t know what was wrong with you, perhaps you might get your period soon, or the drugs you took the night before. But you felt dirty. Rethinking everything you did back with Nate, you really did regret it, because you wanted it to be Elliot, which you fucking despised yourself before. You couldn’t stop thinking about him, even in your sleep.

Luckily, winter break had rolled around, meaning you didn’t have school to attend. It was only the first day, and Rue had been hitting you up—asking you to come down to Elliots’ and smoke some weed with her and him. Jules would probably be there too. Pretending you didn’t see her text, the screen of your dimly lit phone shut back on for about the ten thousandth time, checking to see if he texted.

Every time, it was the same answer. He didn’t.

Shutting your eyes, you bit your bottom lip, which had been sore from doing so repeatedly, sniffling into your pillow. You hated this feeling. Anxiously waiting for someone to contact you, when you know they wouldn’t, because they didn’t care enough. And that shit fucked with your head, because your mind begins to wonder. And when you wonder, the thoughts that you had always pushed back from the surface flood your mind in rapid waves.

Did he even like you?

Why was he always so mean now?

Did he not respect you anymore as a person?

Now that he had you, did he not want you anymore?

Did he really only do things with you because he felt bad?

Bringing your thumbnail to your teeth, you chewed on it nervously, sitting up in your bed. Your curtains were closed, making the room confided in darkness, matching your dampened mood. A hard knock sounded at the door, before swinging open, your mother’s thin figure appearing in the door way. You blinked at her with hooded eyes, not in the mood for her bullshit, as her features instantly tightened at the looks of yourself.

“Gods sake, Y/N, this pig sty of a room needs to be cleaned,” she snapped, keeping her hand on the knob. You wanted to shout at her that you weren’t in the mood for her bitching, but held your tongue, as she released her usual problems with your father onto your, “Look at this,” she snapped before snatching two cups from your bed stand, rolling her eyes before heading back towards the door,

“You need to pick up your dress from the store, it’s ready.”

Oh yeah. Winter formal. The idea of going made your feel sick, even though it was still two weeks away. You had planned to go with Jules, Rue, and…

You didn’t feel like going anymore. People were happy when they went to dances, and you weren’t in the mood to fake how you felt. Besides, you weren’t the most confident right now, and that dress really did show off your entire figure. All you wanted to wear was a brown paper bag, preferably baggy, and sleep in your sheets until the end of the school year.

Your chest sunk, “I don’t think I’m going anymore.”

She snapped her head over to you, a slight scowl growing onto her sharp features. You already knew you were going to be the victim of yet another rant.

“I paid for that dress to be worn, Y/N,” she shook her finger towards you, clutching the dirty dishes with her other. Her tone began to raise, causing you to flinch, as that hole in your stomach began to double in size as every second passed. Her eyes squinted into a glare, “Unbelievable. You know, I told your dad we spoiled you too much, but noooo. I’m the bad guy apparently,” she laughed bitterly, before shrugging, “Fine then. Don’t go. I don’t care what you do anymore—since you’d rather hang out with your low life friends and smoke all day like losers. I don’t care anymore.”

Your eyes stung as she slammed the door shut, leaning you back in the dark. But you held them back, sick of crying whenever something happened that was in inconvenient, throwing your covers away from your legs. Snatching a baggy sweater that covered you, which was a dark brown, you slipped it over your head before grabbing a random pair of dickies. Every action felt like a chore. Your body ached from not eating, and sleeping all day, a heavy sigh leaving you as you didn’t even glance in the mirror—heading towards your door.

Pushing your sunglasses up your nose, bright lights of the mall blinding you, music blared in your ears as you walked in the empty mall. No one had been here on Mondays, much to your luck, except for the poor unfortunate workers. The bag containing your dress hung loosely from your finger tips, tipping your head to the side as you rounded a corner. Thinning your eyes, you paused. Spotting a familiar blonde, which had been occupying your mind for the entire day, he had been sitting beside this random girl—who you had never seen before. As soon as the sight sunk in, a spark of dread shot through your body, a pain setting in your chest. It was him. He had been wearing that black jacket that was pretty much the only one he had, and who else would have a fucking face tattoo at his age?

Gulping, you studied the girl. She didn’t go to your school, or at least you don’t recognize her. Her hair was brunette, tight curls falling all the way down to her back—an eyebrow piercing that was slit through her brow. It looked good on her, though. A black skirt that was far too short rode up her thighs, even though they were sitting at one of the benches, you could tell she had done it on purpose. No one wears a skirt like that on accident. Arms toned and thin, her small waist being accentuated by a black corset, you had concluded that you were officially jealous.

He appeared high, as usual, hooded eyes looking at her with an absent smile. He hadn’t smiled like that at you for days. Your cheeks burned in fury as her hand flew to his thigh, rubbing it gently to give him a hint. His brows slightly rose, looking down at where she placed it, before looking back up at her with a blank look. Her head leaned closer to his, and when their lips met, you spun around and rushed out the mall. Your fists were balled as tears burned your eyes, and even when you tried to hold them back, you realized there wasn’t anymore to come out anyways. You had wasted them all on him earlier.

It was a blur. You were rushing over, legs moving far too quickly, and before you knew it—you were banging on Rue’s door. Your brows were snapped as you kept picturing him touching that girl, the way he had touched you. You needed something to feel better, no matter what it was. The curly brunette swung open her door, before raising a brow at you, “No offense, but you look like shit.”

Your jaw clenched, pressing your lips together. She put her hands up in surrender, “My bad, come in,” she murmered, stepping aside to let you in, “What’s up? You good?”

“Your family home?”

Her eyes narrowed, “No. Gia still has school and mom’s working.”

You nodded, “Cool. Let’s do drugs.”

Her lips twitched into a smile.

“I mean, I can call Elliot for the wee—“

“Not those,” you tried not to cringe at the mention of his name, causing Rue’s brows to raise once again. You swallowed harshly before your chest rose, “I wanna do drugs, Rue. The kind that make you happy.”

Her lips curved into a smirk, eyes glinting at your words. Placing her hand onto her hip, she pointed a finger at you, slightly bobbing her head up and down, “Now that, that I can help with. Follow me,” she muttered before you listened, walking into her room. Shutting the door with her foot, you watched intently as she pulled out a board from beneath her bed—a small bag filled with white pills hidden behind the elastic. She held it up to the sunlight, sending you a wink, in which you just stood there nervously. Pouring a few out, she crushed them with her license, before holding her hand out towards you.

“Got a dollar?”

“Um, I think,” you digged into your pocket, before handing her one, “Why?”

She curled it into a tube, before flipping her hair back, and holding it up to her nose. Watching in fascination, you licked your lips as she inhaled a line—before throwing her head back and wiping her nostrils. Your heart leaped when her eyes instantly became droopy, laughing in an eery manner before offering it to you. Nodding, you slid in beside her, dropping the bag with your dress in it on her bedroom floor.

You looked at her, “Is this safe?”

She snorted.

“If you’re really that sad to take them, does it matter?”

Still unsure, you chewed on your lip, and Rue nudged her shoulder with hers, “It feels good. Like your body is having a fucking orgasm, over and over again,” she reassured you—making it seem more appealing. Blinking, your nails dug into the fabric of your pants, before taking the makeshift tube from her and squeezing your eyes shut.

It burned. Like hell, but you already knew from last time that would happen. Instantly, your skin crawled as you fell backwards onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling with empty eyes. You didn’t hallucinate or anything like that, no. But a heavy weight was lifted off your shoulders, and the feeling that kept hitting you in floods, it could only be described with one word.

Euphoria.

It was as if you were made of glitter. Your head felt heavy, so you kept laying back, releasing small giggles. They sounded like music choruses, enhancing the numb feeling in your brain, every single thought in your mind fading away as if the wave had washed it offshore. The paint chipped of the walls, instead cascading down into the floor, colors dancing around as small butterflies began to slip beneath from the door. You were so happy.

Lifting yourself off the ground, you spun around, feeling as if you were the best dancer in the world. The world was beneath you, everyone else including. You were the best fucking thing in this world at the current moment. Nothing could pull you down, not anyone, not anything. Hearing Rue laugh at you, she kicked on the stereo, as you two began to dance hand in hand. She was your favorite person in the world right now. She spun you in her arms, before falling back onto the bed, running your fingers over your body.

You had never felt this confident before.

And so it became a habit.

You’d visit Rue everyday for a few days, managing to avoid everyone else. It was fun actually, it being a secret. Her house was always empty, so you’d snort some coke, and then dance around the house like crazy people, the world around you vanishing for just a bit. But this time, while you were about to snort some more, a familiar voice rang, “What’s up, Bennett?”

Snapping your head up, tube in your hand, your eyes rounded when you met Elliots’ gaze—his face tightening when you landed in his sights. Rue had already had her share, tapping her foot anxiously on the ground, completely out of it for the moment. His brown eyes narrowed, “The fuck?”

Not answering him, you froze for a second. You hadn’t seen him in days. He didn’t call, or even text. And that was the first thing he said to you?

Fuck him.

Dipping your head, you snorted the line, before wiping your nose. Squeezing your eyes shut, you hissed as it burned, “Fuuuuuuuck,” you groaned before your vision became enhanced, like usual, whenever this drug was within your reach. Blinking slowly, you smiled lazily, handing it to Rue, “I want more.”

Rue nodded, clearing her throat. “How ma—“

The bag was ripped from her hand, both of you looking up at Elliot, who had a pissed off look on his face. His veins protruded from his t-shirt as he held it in your face, “What? You for drugs now? Since when?” He snapped, fury in his eyes, “Are you trying to fuck your life up? Is that it?”

You shrugged, “You do them.”

“I stopped five days ago,” he deadpanned, making you gulp, “I’m clean.”

“And now I have a new partner,” Rue smiled before throwing an arm around you, not sensing the tension between you two. Elliot didn’t remove his gaze from you though, eyes firm and hard, and you began to feel anger boiling up within you, “So what if I do them? They feel good, and I like to do what makes me feel good,” you tilted your head, laughing, “Don’t you? Like kissing that bitch at the mall?”

His chest puffed out, eyes flickering, “You saw—“

“Yeah,” you coldly spat, pushing a finger into his chest as you stood up. Rue had watched while twitching, not even listening, in her own world. Your eyes narrowed as you felt an unhealthy amount of anger suddenly hit you out of nowhere, “I saw you. You are a piece of shit, Elliot. A fucking loser, actually,” you laughed bitterly, his lips pressing together at your words,

“All you do is smoke weed all day and play those shitty songs that no one fucking likes. You’re pathetic, no, you’re nothing. That’s probably why your mom fucking le—“

He tilted his head, something flashing in his eyes. He cut you off before you said something you’d regret. He came close to you, pushing your finger off him, before smiling icily, “When you’re sober, and realize what the fuck you just said—you’re going to keep taking those to numb the guilt. And I won’t be here for you to run back to. Have fun killing yourself, Y/N.”

When the words slapped you in the face, he turned around before slamming the bedroom door shut. In the corner, you heard Rue’s raspy voice.

“Damn.”

taglist ☻ @spiritualwhore444 @leslienjazzy @mooniezarie @borapsycho o @rosefallingtears @write-from-the-heart @solacestyles @niya-savage @whynotmissamerica @hoe-for-sukuna @nonbinaryblackwoman @xkrysslinalexus @wolfietara @sallyscigarettes @carrmenn @tinybookworm16

@est19xxshit t @happyhourwhore @gayhorrorpt22 @bxmaaa @youngleosia @demiesexual @tomhollandfan2017 @bbykel @lavhoes @hoe-4-sebstan @peachjellyy @sslut4hangee @coff1nn @jackierose902109 @kxyb @sluttytears @aresemagomez @misaamaneswifey

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@soliqz @crunchytoenailsyum @bjrmaybank @joshsnostrils @threeblackbarbiesworld @daybabyyyyy @rayathehuman @dominicfikesgf @t1red-bug @akaliltimmytim @billowingbanshee @emmasanos-wife @rory-anne @Kaitieskidmore1 @justiceloves123 @rory-anne @jazphobic

@awfullyyy @artemis-enchanter

[draguta]

.the infinite thoughts of you | sneak peak.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: it's the summer of 1985. as an escape from your tiresome home life you join your friends for summer camp at the nearby camp fairwood. little do you know that what you thought would be just a four-week getaway would actually turn into a life-changing summer, all thanks to the dark-haired school 'freak'.

✨ out now | read here ✨

Hawkins, Indiana. Located 80 miles outside of Indianapolis, with a population of 13,000. A robust, small town filled with cardboard cut-out suburban homes and neighbourhood-watch alliances. A town that had survived so much without even knowing it. A town fueled on secrets. The secret affairs of bored housewives who sought the affection their husbands failed to give them on the stained mattresses of roadside motels. The secret swigs from silver flasks by balding middle-aged men attempting to mask the smell of liquor with spearmint gum. The secret bruises that the women of families from the East side of town concealed beneath the long sleeves of their sweaters.

Of course, the thing about these secrets is that they never stayed secret for long. Everyone knew about Mrs. Johnson’s younger boyfriend in the city, even if her husband was blissfully unaware. Everyone could smell the whiskey on Mr. Carper’s breath as he waddled into work, his wobbly and uncoordinated limbs giving away to everyone the fact that he was drunk. Everyone knew that Mr. Baxter on the corner beat his poor wife on an almost daily occurrence. It was these secrets that festered at the very heart of this town. They became whispers between soccer-mums in supermarket aisles, morning gossip outside church before Sunday service. Of course, they didn’t care if these rumours were true or not. Even if the evidence hadn’t been as clear as day, the stories would still spread, mixing in with talk of children’s football games and new patio builds over afternoon tea. They were simply a way for the tired townspeople of Hawkins to escape their own miserable, mundane lives, and shower everyone else with their holier-than-thou opinions.

Your family was no different. You offered to the world an immaculate image of the perfect family, so perfect in fact that it could be deemed unnerving. Every photograph captured the black and whites of plastered on smiles, masks worn by a family fighting trauma behind closed doors, never to be shown to the rest of Hawkins. No, your mother would never allow for everyone to know that your father spent ninety-percent of his nights with his secretary, a pretty blonde nearly twenty years his junior. Your father would never allow for anyone to know that he provided your mother with an allowance each month for your estranged uncle, a man whom you’d never met due to his ‘bad tendencies’ as your mother called it, but who you knew lived in the trailer park. Your parents would never allow for your peers to know that they had offered a hefty donation to your older brother’s college just so that they would let him attend. You would never make it known that you spent almost every night in a nightmare of your own making, replaying events from years gone by that you’d rather keep locked away. No one needed to know these things, but of course they did. That was just how it worked in Hawkins - everyone knew everything.

The thought had occurred to you numerous times, and came to you again as you sat in the passenger seat of your dad’s car, taking in the familiar faded signs on shop fronts and the silent figures milling along the sidewalks, if everything that had happened over the past few years could in any way change the town. If the mysterious deaths and missing children and suspicious fire had sparked in itself a revolt against the mundane, boring lives of these people. Because you knew that an even darker secret brewed under the perfect picture that was Hawkins; a secret that no one would believe even if they saw it with their own eyes. Of course, you should’ve known that it wouldn’t alter anything. Nothing here would ever change, not in the years since Will Byers first went missing, and not any time in the near future. Hawkins was a relative time-capsule in a world that was moving forward without it, filled with old-time ideals and cemented judgements.

✨ out now | read here ✨

[bananafishdepression]

SPOILERS!!

I love how the creator of Banana Fish manga did such a good joob on presenting two men in love back in the 80s. She didn't make one a twink and the other a tough masculine who can't accept his sexuality. She made parallels of Ash and Eiji with Max and Jessica and Blanca and his wife/girlfriend. She compared them to heterosexual couples, but not in a way to make one of them fem. Blanca's dead girlfriend is a parallel to Ash and preditcs Ash's death because Ash longed for Eiji so much, just like Blanca longed for his girlfriend and the end of it they both remained alone. Eiji was compared to Jessica, the way Jessica ran back to Max in ep. 22 and Eiji followed her right after, or when they jokingly said they would never get married after having to hear Max and Jessica fight (btw they totally got married and they live together forever). There are old stereotypes of relationships where the woman is blonde/ has light hair and the man is brunette/ has black hair, but also the woman is way shorter, younger and needs to be protected, and the man is tall, handsome, older by few years and always protects the woman. In BF, we have Eiji, who has dark hair and is older but shorter, and is new to Ash's world and can't defend himself well yet so he needs help at the beginning, and we have Ash who is blond, younger but taller and the most important thing to him is to keep Eiji safe. Creator didn't try to make only one of them to have feminime characteristics, but they both have them and they are very well put.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Pack Tactics (Werewolf x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Male!Werewolf

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Established Couple, Angst with a happy ending

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2896 words

Summary: You are in a wonderful relationship with your sweet partner, Gray. But this far into the relationship, you’ve yet to tell him you have no intentions ever of having kids. You can’t help but wonder, how will your child-loving werewolf boyfriend will react?

Request: I live for very specific comfort! No pressure if this doesn’t inspire you or if you just don’t want to write it obvi.... but could I have a f!reader x m!werewolf where the reader is 100% sure she doesn’t want to have kids ever never ever in any capacity and is worried about how her werewolf bf is going to react, worried she’ll be dumped or something (ya know cause idk I feel like werewolves are built with a breeding kink and like into the whole having a lot of pups) there can be smut if you want!! I love me some dramatic angst comfort :)))))))

A/N: Sorry this took so long y’all, school and stuff has been kicking my ass. But writing this sweet little fic has been a nice reprieve from my work. Hope you enjoy!

“Alright, I’ll get the chicken, the asparagus, and the pasta. You’ve got the wine and the dessert?”

“Sure thing.”

The two of you nod, Gray stepping away from the grocery cart before you call out to him.

“And not one of those huge tubs of ice cream.”

Gray emits a dramatic whine, pouting.

“But the big one is 25 cents cheaper than those little pints. It’s practically free!”

You furrow your brow and pat him on the shoulder.

“Not if we don’t finish them, they aren’t. Now go.” Gray rolls his eyes, clutching his heart and throwing his head back. You playfully push him, walking away with the grocery cart and towards the deli section. You can see the top of Gray’s wild brown hair as he moves into the next aisle, his 6’5” form towering over all the little old ladies who usually crowd the store.

You’re browsing the chicken, trying to decide between 2 breasts or a full rotisserie, when a familiar sound reaches you.

“Oh! If it isn’t ____.” You forcibly paint a smile, fingers automatically clenched around the stellafoam package as you turn to see your next door neighbor Mrs. Star. Her teased, bleached blonde hair teeters on top of her head, bobbing back and forth with the clack of her neon blue heels. While you can respect the 60-year old for digging her feet in and refusing to update her wardrobe from the 80’s, her pension for gossip is a little less admirable. “Shocked to see you out and about, what with that big ol boyfriend of yours.” She says, blue eyeshadow crinkling into a wink and nudging you with your elbow. You wheeze a bit, quickly covering it with a laugh. “Back in our honeymoon phase, Richard and I barely left the bedroom. And he was half-way balding back then, not the babe-a-rama you got going over there.” Mrs. Star’s laugh reaches a pitch almost too high for your human ears to pick up, maybe even giving Gray 2 aisles over a headache.

“Well, y’know, gotta keep our energy up.” You wince, immediately berating yourself for that comment. Mrs. Star throws her hand up in a “oh, you” gesture, letting out another half-whistle half-screeching chuckle.

“Oh I do, honey, I do.” She sends you another dramatic wink, which you return with a shaky smile. The corner of your cart bumps into hers as you begin walking along the meat aisle, trying to forcibly end this interaction. But Mrs. Star pulls off an impressive turn with her cart and strolls alongside you. She does little to hide her wandering eyes, trying to piece together any juicy info from your groceries. “So, are you two trying for kids yet?”

The wheels squeal to a sudden stop, forcing you to choke on your saliva as the shopping cart’s handle digs into your stomach. You keep your gaze locked on the frozen steaks  and turkeys, already way past the chicken you meant to grab.

“Uhhh, no. We’re not really in the phase of our relationship yet.”

Mrs. Star clicks her tongue, pressing her hand to her chest in a show of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, dearie. Old habits you see, whenever a new couple moves in together I assume they’re halfway to the wedding already. You young kids like to take it slow, huh?”

You nod, hastily grabbing a package of buffalo wings, hoping for an excuse to escape this conversation.

Mrs. Star continues to walk by you, her cart blocking off any convenient means to leave unless you significantly pick up her speed. Her eyes glance over the sweats sat in a display in the center of the aisle, humming a small tune.

The end of the aisle is approaching, you’re almost home free! You ready your feet to book it with an excuse, but Mrs. Star clears her throat and begins to speak.

“Now dearie, I don’t mean to pry-”

What do you call these last 3 minutes, Star?

“But I’d at least pop on a ring on that finger soon. Someday someone’s going to snatch that boy up like a piece of meat, saying all the right things. Men got all those suspicions about over-the-hill pregnancies, his eyes might start wandering. That’s how my first divorce went, so I should know.”

You pull your cart to a stop, breathe catching as you look at Mrs. Star, shocked. You can handle some inappropriate questions, but to question your boyfriend’s loyalty and insulting your relationship is crossing another line. Your brows furrow with a simmering anger, your cheeks heating up as you're ready to let loose.

“Well, Mrs. Star, if you must know I have the most wonderful boyfriend on this side of the planet, and unlike your deadbeat first husband, he’s as loyal as they can be.” Mrs. Star looks at you, eyes widened and right hand halfway to grab a pack of oreos. You huff, pushing your cart away from hers and towards the cash register. Right before you leave her sight, you turn back to her with a simpering smirk. “Have a great day, Mrs. Star!”

Your heart is heaving with anger, prepping a rant to Gray about the horrible interaction you just had. On the other side of the store, you spot Gray, his curly hair all tussled, holding a large Rosé and a package of ice cream sandwiches. Just the sight of his back calms you a bit, excited for some delicious food and late-night cuddles. You jog a little towards him, but slow down when you see him crouch down, looking at something hidden from your sight.

You turn your shopping cart slightly, trying to peer behind his massive form, and freeze.

Gray’s sticking out his tongue, pushing up his nose, and making many more silly gestures to a baby in a stroller. The baby laughs, it’s chubby cheeks bright red as Gray blows another raspberry, thrashing its arms up and down with joy. The dad is laughing at Gray’s antics, leaning down and patting his kid on the head.

Gray promptly stands up, sending another big smile to the kid, before waving goodbye. The six-month-old waves back, uncoordinated and decidedly adorable. Gray laughs, turning away and walking towards you.

Your feet feel cemented to the floor, heart down in your stomach.

He’s a natural, you think, nausea building up in your throat.

Gray was the oldest of eight, not a large number for a werewolf family. You adored them, and they you, but Gray had a way of dealing with his youngest siblings. Whether it was letting them climb all over him like a jungle gym, or attending imaginary tea parties, Gray was a pro. He was the guy to cram himself into a tiny chair at the kids table, eating tiny cookies and cracking jokes. ‘Dad’ seemed to be stamped into his very being, the cuddly werewolf with a love of children. He’s any mother-in-law’s dream.

But all those sweet things turn sour when you think about what Mrs. Star said. Gray, moving on without you.

Gray’s eyes light up when he sees your cart, jogging over and holding up the bottle of wine like a prize.

“Hey!” He says, quickly sliding an arm around your waist and giving you a peck on the cheek. “I got your favorite, and those delicious mint-chocolate sandwiches.”

His happy voice and comforting touch help abate whatever it is your feeling, but the way Gray’s brow furrows tells you your  discomfort is present in your eyes. “Is everything okay?” His large hand comes up and rubs your shoulder. You give him a shaky smile, fighting away negative thoughts with a bat.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

---------

Wet fur presses up against your bare neck as you lazily stir the boiling water, Gray’s shifted muzzle now snug in the crook of your shoulder, the white flecks across his dark fur peeking into your periphery. Your free hand instinctively goes back to scratch between his ears, causing him to let out a satisfied huff, hot air blowing across your chest.

“That smells good baby.”

“It’s just salt and water Gray. The pasta’s barely al dente.”

Gray laughs, turning his head  slightly so he can press a small kiss onto your cheek.

“You could make even that taste delicious, ____”

You dramatically roll your eyes, pushing away his chin as he continues to peck and nip at your neck. After showering Gray always made sure to rub in some cherry-blossom leave-in conditioner into his fur. The artificial perfumes just lightly touch your senses, but the mental connection they have to Gray make them smell that much sweeter. You turn and give him a quick kiss on the lips, patting his shoulder once more.

“Do you mind setting the table? Maybe get started on those messy dishes?”

“No problem.” Gray mumbles, reluctantly pulling away from you and tugging up the towel that hangs loose on his hips. He barely needs to reach for your fancy plates on the top shelf, his chest muscles flexing and bicep taut. Even with his thick fur, you can see the bone of his clavicle which accentuates his long neck.

God, he’s so hot.

You think, smirking a bit as you continue stirring.

And all mine.

You hum, but the cheery mood you’re in quickly sours once you remember your conversation with Mrs. Star. That small seed of doubt seems to grow and leech from your chest.

2 years into this relationship and the two of you have only danced around the conversation of the future. You of course had agreed on living together, what your career paths looked like, even the potential of getting married in a couple years, but never kids. As two 20-somethings, you felt like you had all the time in the world.

But the thing was, you didn’t really need all the time in the world.

You didn't want kids. Even with your family or your neighbors needing that your opinion “might change some day,” you were confident in that decision. Not that you hated them, you just could never picture yourself being a mom. A fun aunt, maybe, but never a mom. It wasn’t even a point of contention in your own mind; The picture of you, your partner, and maybe a couple of pets thriving into your elders was bliss enough.

You sneak a glance to Gray, now clothed and back turned to you as he sets the table. He’s diligently folding the napkins into  fun shapes, a ritual he does every date night. From the hole in his jeans you can see his tail wagging, content as he hums to the low radio playing on the window sill.

A smile crawls onto your face, a small giggle escaping you as you watch Gray’s hips bob to the beat, silently mouthing the words. You snort as he does a dramatic little shoulder shift, Gray’s head whipping back towards the kitchen as you throw your hand over your mouth.

“What, don't you like my moves?” Gray says, shimmering his shoulders again, a large grin across his face.

“They could use some work, Kevin Bacon.” Gray clutches his chest, throwing his head back in mock pain.

“You wound me. After all these years, you would cut me so deep?”

“Sure would.” You turn back towards the simmering pasta, setting the wooden spoon on the rim and brushing your hands on your jeans. “Oof!” You squeak as you yanked away, Gray wrapping his arms around your waist, twirling you in a stumbling circle.

“And how ‘bout now, m’lady?” Gray simpers, eyebrow cocked. Your hands slap his chest as you laugh. He lets your feet back down on the floor, but keeps his arms locked around your waist. The two of you slow dance to the beat, and when the chorus hits, Gray gives his worst rendition possible. You bemoan and feign plugging your ears, but find yourself singing along anyway.

Everything about Gray is warm and bright, from his goofy grin to his excitable tail to his two left feet. He adds that pep of energy to your daily routine, pulling you out of an exhausting cycle for a quick jog to the beach or an episode of your favorite drama. Gray fills out all of those little spaces, makes them a little less gray.

Your head rests against his chest, feeling the fur through the fabric of his t-shirt as the two of you sway back and forth.

You want it to stay this way.

But that pestering weed squeezes your heart again, forcing images of Gray with a kid on his shoulders. Showing up to little-league football games with a big cooler and a “#1 dad” T-shirt. All those little moments, all without you.

You can’t fight the deep sigh, pressing your face even deeper into Gray.

Just let me have this. Just this moment, just for now.

-------

“Ugh, I think my stomach is going to explode from excess-pasta.”

Gray huffs, laying his head on your lap as the two of you slump onto the couch. His tail wags lazily, flickering back and forth as his legs swing over the coach's side, his long torso bunched up as he curls into you. The fur of his head is soft as you twist your fingers into it. “But I gotta say, what a way to go out.”

You giggle, losing your thoughts in his soft fur. Gray lets out another deep breath, nuzzling his face into your hand. You brush over his cheek with your  thumb, admiring the cheekbone you feel just underneath.

But that burning question refuses to leave your mind, and you ask it without even thinking.

“Do you want kids, Gray?”

Gray’s eye’s stay closes, his posture relaxed as he sinks into your massaging fingers.

“Hmmm, maybe. Never really thought too much about it. Why?”

Your throat dries up, mind reeling. It wasn’t even a definitive yes, but your heart is still reeling. Your fingers pause and Gray's eyes open. He shifts his head when he sees the look on your face, concerned. “Babe?”

You nod, eyes still wide, trying to fight off the inklings of a panic attack. Gray pushes himself up on his elbows, paw quickly coming to caress your cheek. “Baby, is everything alright?”

You find the energy to breathe, and suck in deeply. Your heart begins to slow down as you look into Gray’s yellow wolf eyes. You dig your cheek into his large palm, smelling the perfume of his conditioner.

“Yes, sorry, I just-” You pause, taking another deep breath. “I ran into Mrs. Star in the grocery store, and-I’m sorry I’m overthinking things.” You mutter, patting yourself  on the cheek as to snap yourself out of your mood. Grays other hand rubs the back of your neck.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. Did she say something?”

“No-Well, yes. It’s silly, typical Star things. She just brought up how ‘ought to get started having kids, and it just-” You let out a shaky sigh, pulling away Gray’s hand with your own and looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t want to have kids, ever.”

In Gray’s eyes, you expect to….something. Confusion, disappointment, maybe? But instead, all you see is relief. Gray rests his paw on your thigh, squeezing it.

“_____, is that what you’ve been worrying about?” You nod, throwing your eyes back down, but Gray tilts your chin towards him. “If you don’t want kids, we won’t have kids. Simple as that.”

Your eyes widen and you pull your face back.

“Seriously? But-what if-”

“____, I grew up with eight siblings. I’m going to have to deal with more nieces and nephews then I can count on my fingers and my toes, I think I can handle not having kids.”

A weight lifts off of your chest and you slump forward into Gray, pressing your forehead against his clavicles as you let out a long, relieved sigh. He laughs, patting your back and kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this all day, I didn’t even realize you were so upset.”

You slap his chest, letting out another frustrated sigh. With him? No, but yourself, and Mrs. Star, for stirring up nightmares for no damn good reason.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine for being so paranoid.” You press your chin up, pouty lips admiring your boyfriend's face. “I’m sorry for freaking out. She really got me into my own head.”

“No apologies needed baby.” Gray says, giving you a small peck. You send him a cheesy smile, chasing after his lips with a couple of small kisses. A low rumble growls out from his chest as you nip at his jawline. Behind him, you hear his tail begin to hump on the floor.

“Hmm, does that mean you feel better?” You nod, pressing another kiss into his pulse point.

“Yes, thank you for letting me get that out.” Another kiss, now on his Adam’s apple.

“Welp,” Gray says, quickly adjusting himself. In another second, you yelp as he picks you up by your butt, legs quickly wrapping around his waist, “Let’s give Mrs. Star something to talk about, hmm?”

You throw your head back with a laugh, clinging tight to his chest as Gray blows a raspberry into your neck. “That good with you, my lady?”

You nod, giving him another kiss on the lips as he carries you off into the bedroom.

Yeah, you have it good.

[shootthemessenger]

our hearts are wild creatures, that’s why our ribs are cages [c.g.]

cordelia goode x fem!reader

requested: please please please something like a fight with cordelia and then make up [anonymous]

disclaimer: strong language, sexual nature, arguing/angst, gets slightly NSFW

“I can’t fucking listen to this shit anymore.”

The two of you had been like this for hours now; at each other’s throats so viciously.

You knew what she was mad about, or rather you knew that she wasn’t mad but extremely jealous.

You knew she had been watching you all night and disapproved of the way you had settled into conversation with a, particularly glowing, young woman you had met.

She was around your age, striking blue eyes hidden behind her blue and gold masquerade mask and blonde hair brushing at her shoulders.

Nevertheless, you had spent over 80% of your conversation with the younger witch discussing Cordelia and her current reign as Supreme.

It boggled your mind how Cordelia assumed you were attracted to the young woman, despite the fact that you were attending a masquerade ball and couldn’t even see the other’s face. And considering the only thing running through your mind had been Cordelia herself.

Since the car ride home she had been shooting slick remarks and you had been dishing them right back. Once you walked through the door of the bedroom, it was like the flood gates had opened up inside her.

By the time you settled onto the bed, and her at her makeup vanity, she was beginning to swallow any harsh words her mouth was thinking about spewing.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Ironically, her voice rose into the air like smoke; delicate and calm. Still, it was hard to ignore the tension that had settled in the silence between the two of you and the underlying sarcasm in her voice.

You shook your head; whether it was to answer her question or shaking away the anger that bubbled in your chest, you were unsure.

You didn’t will yourself to look at her but when she began shuffling around the room you knew she was making a drink anyway.

“I said I didn’t want one.” You spoke bitterly into your lap without moving to meet her eyes. You spoke so softly you weren’t entirely sure she could hear you anyway. But she laughed bitterly and ignored you, pouring the amber-colored scotch over ice.

You could practically feel the heat of her anger radiating off of her as your body shook with the same feeling. She held the glass for you to take.

You did, with no protest and lifted it to your lips. She watched you with dark, hooded eyes before turning sharply on her heel and slumping back into the chair at her vanity.

“You’re so fucking dense, my God.” She mumbled it just under her breath with the intent of you hearing it. You took the time to glance at her while she was fixing herself in the mirror and taking her makeup off.

You laughed with a harsh bite in your throat, “You think you’re the first woman to tell me that?” Something unreadable flashed over her features. You avoided her eyes as they shifted to you through the mirror.

You attention refocused on the glass in your lap where you swirled the liquor around. After a beat of heavy silence you pushed to your feet and pushed a stray curl from your face.

“I’m going to take a bath.” You mumbled, one hand already fumbling with the zipper on your dress. You set your glass onto the bathroom counter before kicking the door into its frame with a force that made even you jump at the sound.

You finally got the dress unzipped and left it hanging from your shoulders as you began to draw the bath. You jumped slightly when Cordelia entered the bathroom.

She stood in the doorway without saying anything and you glanced at her momentarily. “Look, I know you’re drunk and jealous but-...”

She cut you off quickly, “I’m not jealous.” You knew she was lying by the way her face began to heat up. You shook your head and pushed the straps of the dress off your shoulders.

Her face faultered and she paused before catching her lip between her teeth. As usual, she couldn’t help herself but to rake her eyes over your curves.

You shimmied out of the thin fabric and finally stepped out when it pooled at your ankles.

“You are jealous Cordelia.” Her full name tasted bitter with frustration on your tongue. “You’re jealous because...”

“Don’t say it.” She cut you off again, already knowing what was coming.

She already knew what was going to fall from your lips; something she already knew herself. She was fully aware of her own jealousy; you were young and beautiful and certainly in your prime as a witch. Who wouldn’t want to get their hands on you?

“Just don’t.” She pressed her fingers to her temples, sighing into her own hand. She wiped away whatever mascara was left on her face and leaned forward to steady herself on the counter.

“I hate you.” She didn’t mean that. You knew it just as much as she did.

You let out a sharp breath, “You’re insufferable.”

She was on you before the word even had the chance to filter through the air. Lips and tongues worked at each other like you had never kissed before. She was pawing at you with a purpose and, against your own better judgment, you could feel arousal beginning to pool between your legs.

“Say it again,” she hissed as she moved down your neck with rough kissing and sharp nipping. She didn’t want you to say it, she just liked knowing that she had the power to shut you up with nothing more than a kiss.

You were steadily turning into a mess underneath her which did not go unnoticed to her. “Where’s your smart ass mouth now?” She knew she was being slightly ridiculous but her hunger for you was being fueled by rage and possession.

Nevertheless, she lifted you into the counter with one swift motion and wedged her body between your thighs. The sharp gasp that left her mouth made her laugh against your skin as she pressed hot kisses to your heaving chest.

Your hand tangled into her blonde locks and tugged instinctively, you could feel her lips buzz softly as a moan ripped your throat and she could no longer fight the smile grabbing at her lips.

“There’s my dirty girl.” It almost came out as a laugh, her lips trailing back up your skin until she was leveled with your lips.

“My girl.” She captured your lip sharply.

Taglist: @mssallymckenna , @proudnlittle , @coxmicbabygirl , @sapphicpaulsxn , @its-soph-xx , @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k , @paulsonix , @madamevirgo , @saucy-sapphic , @kikaykimkim , @billiedeansbottom , @d14n4ol

[theyreonlynoodlesmike]

Hey! Love your stories on Ao3 and I’m so happy that I found some more of your work to read!❤️ If it’s okay can I make a poly request? I was thinking of a girl from our time being sent back to the lost boys and them falling for each other. There can be some angst if you want, such as her being sent back to her dimension but maybe finding a way to go back to their time after months of being away? Thank you for giving us some of the best stories ever! 💕

So, this is a pretty big request (possible spanning over multiple chapters), so I’m gonna actually write/continue this on my ao3 account! I may post the later chapters on here later, but for now I’m gonna keep them on ao3. Here’s the first chapter!

It’s Just a Movie (Fem!Reader x poly!Lost boys) fic

Next Chapter ->

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 1504

It had been a simple night. Sure, it was halloween and, sure, it was a full moon. A blue moon at that. But that didn’t mean anything, right?

You sure as hell didn’t think so as you went to see a showing of one of your favorite movies, the Lost Boys, with some of your friends. With everything going on with covid, the theaters were empty and your local one had been showing older classics for the past few weeks. They had a selection of horror lined up for halloween night, and your group had chosen to see your favorite vampire movie. 

You had even dressed up for the occasion, donning a dark, almost gothic look. Hell, you practically looked like one of the extras in the opening sequence. You and your friends jammed along to the soundtrack, laughed at Sam’s antics, and nearly cried when you witnessed your four favorite vampires meet their inevitable end. A movie’s gotta have an ending, right? After Grandpa delivered the classic ending line, you and your friends packed it up to head outside. 

Well, they did. You had forgotten your wallet, and you ran back into the theater to grab it. Your friends had promised to wait for you, and you fumbled to put your mask back on as you searched through the dim theater. You used your phone to find it half stuck in one of the chairs, and you quickly jogged out of the auditorium, and then the theater, to find that your friends weren’t waiting for you. And that the streets were far more packed then they had been a second ago. 

Sure, there were people in halloween masks and costumes littered about, but you nearly scoffed when you saw that no one seemed to be taking any of the social distancing rules seriously. You took a step, planning on looking for your friends when you noticed that the theater had almost...changed. The outside didn’t look the same as it did before. Instead, it had the old sign outside, broadcasting what movies were playing inside. Sure, you had expected some older movies, but some of these you hadn’t even heard of. You thought it was weird, considering the theaters would probably want to stick to the most popular ones during a pandemic.

You looked back around, but your friends were nowhere in sight. You thought to walk to the parking lot, but you paused. You heard a whistle, and a wave of relief washed over you. You turned, expecting your friends, and, instead, you were met with a different familiar face. This night couldn’t have gotten any weirder.

You looked him up and down. Teased blonde hair, blue eyes, straight nose, slight stubble on his sharp jawline, a black coat paired with white pants and a mesh shirt? He was even wearing those calf things that your friends had made fun of that one time, because what the hell type of 80s fashion things are those supposed to be? You shook your head, touching one side of your forehead while thinking that perhaps you had hit your head or something while looking for your wallet. There was no way you were looking at Paul from the Lost Boys. He sent you a grin, flashing rows of straight, normal, non-vampire looking teeth, and said, 

“Well, hello there to you too, doll-face. Need some company?” He asked, and you nearly thought about pinching yourself. Holy shit. Before you could answer, you heard, 

“Who’s this?” And you wouldn’t have been surprised if this whole sitation wasn’t boggling your mind. As all the fans knew that where one Lost Boy was, the others weren’t far behind. You turned, and found yourself looking directly into the face of the other natural blonde. You met big, hazel colored eyes, and your eyes instinctively fell to his lips. Just in time to watch his thumb be pushed between them. Clean jaw, cherub face, golden curls, a heavy, colorful jacket, jeans, and leather chaps? There was no mistaking him. The second half of the blonde duo had arrived, and you almost wondered if the others weren’t far behind.

“I don’t know. She seems shy.” Paul said, a smile on his face as he reached out to brush a hand against your cheek. Cold fingers barely brushed against you, and you leaned back. Almost into the blonde on your other side, who had taken the spot right next to you. “I’m Paul, and that’s my buddy Marko.” Paul added, pointing at the blonde with his eyes. Before they trained themselves back onto you. Marko leaned in a bit to say into your ear.

“Your turn.” And it nearly caused you to flinch. He laughed, steadying you. “C’mon, we don’t bite.” He said with a grin, and a shiver nearly ran down your back when the taller of the blondes laughed. Too hard. If you hadn’t been so caught up in the complete and utter shock you had been experiencing you probably would have been thinking more about how these boys were vampires. Sure, it had been fun to talk about them on forums and on different apps, but suddenly you were hit with an urge to run. Especially before the other half of their gang arrived.

“I’m- I’m just looking for my friends.” You quickly blurted. You started walking, but your brain was on hyper-drive. If this was real, if this was really happening, then you were in a horror movie. And the killers had already taken an interest in you. They quickly started following, staying just as close as they had been before.

“Ooh, are they as pretty as you? We can help you find them.” Paul offered, and you almost wanted to accept. He sounded like he was just trying to be helpful, albeit flirt a little. It was the eighties, so you couldn’t quite blame him for being so persistent. Part of you really wanted to accept, but you reminded yourself. Horror movie. Killers. And they probably wanted to make you apart of the menu. You had only taken a few steps, but the shorter of the two jumped in your path. He walked backwards and said,

“C’mon, you don’t wanna walk alone, right? It’s halloween, and all the weirdos are out.” Marko started, and Paul was quick to waggle his fingers and make a spooky sound to accompany his claim. You faltered. You hadn’t necessarily thought about where you wanted to go, and the parking lot was dark. Far darker than the front of the movie theater. And emptier. You gulped, reminding yourself once again. Horror movie. Killers. You looked between them, trying to think of a way to not end up as a juicebox for the two unfairly attractive vampires in front of you.

You had to admit. You had no idea where you could go, and it wasn’t exactly like you knew what the hell was going on. As far as you were concerned, these were some of the only familiar faces you would find. That, or the Emersons. But you had no idea what time it was in their- what could you call this? Dimension? Or was this just some weird dream? Whatever it was, you had no idea if the Emersons even arrived yet or where to find Grandpa’s house. So, you were shit out of luck. You supplied your name before you quickly added,

“My friends and I- We were going to meet on the boardwalk.” You said, and the boys grinned. You knew it had to be one of their favorite places, since they went there every night. At least that's what the movie made it seem like. Maybe, just maybe, you could get there, let the boardwalk distract them, and figure out what you were going to do. And have some fun with two of the biggest heartthrobs from the eighties.

“Sweet! We can totally take you. We just need to wait for the rest of our friends.” Paul said, and suddenly every last bead of hope slipped from your body. Two vampires already had the odds against you, but all four? Especially one of them being David? You would be screwed! Before you could make something up, Marko said,

“Yeah, here they come.” And you wished that whatever this was would end. That you could go back and be in your own dimension. You turned, seeing a brunette wearing just a leather jacket, jeans, and sneakers. His dark, brooding eyes practically shined in the night, and his resting face made you want to shrink in on yourself. To avoid them, your eyes flicked to the blonde besides him. Blue eyes, scruffy cheeks, and a leather jacket-trenchcoat combo paired with leather pants, boots, and leather gloves? Oh, you were so screwed. If you had any doubt in your mind that this was happening, you were sure now.

As the rest of the vampires approached, you tried to calm your oncoming panic attack with a mantra of it’s just a movie. But now you weren’t so sure.

[mediocre-writerr]

don’t give up on me [jennifer jareau]

JJ x fem reader

Summary: SSA Jennifer Jareau, JJ for liking, is dating coworker Y/N, but what happens when Y/N gets kidnapped by the unsub? Also this is a very long imagine soo enjoy!

W A R N I N G: blood, wounds, kidnapping, slight mention of assault and mentions of death

*not my gif*

The jingle of JJ’s phone going off wakes you both up from your slumbers. You groan shoving my head into the pillow as she chuckles softly.

“Agent Jareau,” she begins and you hear the sounds of ‘mhm’, ‘okay’, ‘yes’ fill the silence, “Alright me and Y/L/N are on our way.”

“No. Nope. I’m staying right here.” you say shaking your head into the pillow.

“That was Hotch, we have a case here in Quantico.” you let out a groan and bury your face deeper into the pillow.

She laughs softly as she lifts your shirt a little to scratch your back lightly. You let out a soft sigh before looking at her. Her usual tamed blonde hair is everywhere and her eyes are still a little closed from just waking up.

You send her a small little smile before sitting up. You tuck her hair that is in front of her face behind her ear before kissing her softly.

“Ugh, morning breath!” she complains scrunching her nose up in disgust.

You place your hand over my heart like you’ve been shot before falling down onto the bed. Your tongue sticking out, “Agent Jareau...only a true love’s kiss could save me. Please help.”

She laughs to herself lightly before leaning down and giving me a small kiss, “Let’s go before Hotch really throws a fit.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Fine. By the way you should get used to my morning breath, you are my fiancé after all.” And she chuckles again lightly.

You guys get to the BAU and see everyone in the briefing room. You take a seat next to Rossi as he gives you a fist bump. JJ stood up in the front with Hotch giving him a small apologetic smile.

“Late night last night ladies?” Morgan asks with classic player smirk.

“Yes a late night of sleep that was rudely interrupted.” you look at Hotch and he stares at you with a scary glance and you put your hands up in surrender.

You like to keep the mood light in the BAU especially before or after case. The team deals with dark and twisted stuff all day. So you try to get the team to laugh and smile as often as you can.

“Now that we’re all here,” Hotch begins looking at the both you and JJ and you try your best not to laugh, “The unsub has left us a tape. It was left at the footsteps of the BAU. I’ll play it for you.”

The team turn their heads towards the projector and there’s a victim strapped onto the chair with a mask cartoon version of Prentiss on their face. They look terrified and are trying their best to escape the bounds that the unsub has them in. They’re breathing heavy, this isn’t staged. This isn’t fake. This is real life. Another person with a mask of Hotch comes in the background and shoots them right in the head and then they just stare at the camera.

“So this unsub definitely wants our attention.” Prentiss announces.

“They are very confident that they can get away with whatever they’re doing.” JJ chimes in.

“Like they’re trying to mock and taunt us.” Rossi adds on.

“The police department found the victims body: 24 year old, Maya Flynn. She was a young teacher who just got her degree. She was dumped in the alley by the BAU. Wrists had rope burns on them which makes sense as they were bound to the chairs.” JJ goes on and you look down to read the files.

“Reid and Rossi, you guys go take a look at the body. Morgan and I will go to the crime scene. JJ try to handle the press and keep all of the word of this to a minimum, do not under any circumstance leak the video tape. Alright everyone let’s catch and find our unsub.” Hotch announces.

“Wait-wait what about us?” Prentiss asks gesturing to the two of you.

“Prentiss, you were specifically targeted in this video. We don’t know what the unsub’s game is, but we know that you were their first kill. We need to keep you under watch here, you can help JJ or Garcia. And Y/L/N, you didn’t finish your paperwork from the last case and Strauss is on my ass about, so once you’re done with that we will reassess your assignment.”

Everyone leaves the briefing room to get to their assignments, but you, Prentiss, and JJ.

“Love, you didn’t finish your paperwork?” JJ stares at you with her death glares.

“No...I wanted to go home early.” I reply and she shakes her head before giving me a kiss on the head.

“Finish it up.” she says sternly.

“I will, be safe?” you ask holding your pinky out for a pinky promise.

She locks your fingers before we kiss our own hand, “Always.”

             ______________________________________________________

“Oh here comes Y/N! She goes for the 3 and SPLASHHH!” you yell as your crumpled up piece of paper makes it way to the trash can.

“You know you’re never going to get any work done and go out on the field if you keep messing around.” Prentiss points out clearly annoyed with just sitting here and doing nothing.  

“You’re just mad that you can’t contribute to the case.” you contradict and she rolls her eyes before getting up from her desk, “Where ya going?”

“To get coffee.” she responds.

“Coffee machine is broken. Let me go get us some because I am starving and want a really good sandwich. Plus you can’t leave.” you point out grabbing your phone, keys, and wallet and shoving them into your pocket.

“Oh yes please!” Prentiss screams, “You’re the best!” 

“I hope so I am your best friend,” you shoot back sending her a wink which led to her rolling her eyes again, “I’ll be right back. Text me your order!”

You walk the short stroll to our favorite cafe, one you’ve walked a million times some with Prentiss, JJ, and Garcia, but some on your lonesome. The breeze nice and cool, it’s a good break from all of the life threatening and disturbing things we see on a daily basis. All of the kids walking around holding their parents hands. Their eyes hold so much innocence, it’s sad that they don’t know the true dangers of this world.

The next thing you know the world went black.

             ______________________________________________________

Team’s POV

“Where’s Y/N?” JJ asks as the rest of the team walks back into the briefing room.

“She went to go grab us some coffee and sandwiches, she should be here by now.” Prentiss says and she stands staring at her phone searching for a text from Y/N.

They all sit down around the table looking at the board, trying to piece together every little thing, but coming up short. They don’t even have a profile they could give the local police department. That’s how stumped they are. 

Garcia comes running into the room with tears filled in her eyes.

“Garcia? What’s wrong?” Hotch asks with concern laced in his tone.

“I got sent an anonymous video from the unsub. I tried to track down where it was sent from, but it was a burner phone.” she says speaking really fast, that’s how the team knows something is really wrong, when she’s speaking a million miles per hour. 

The video starts to play from the TV monitor and gasps filled the room. There was Y/N strapped onto a chair, no mask on her face like the other video just Y/N and her trying to remain calm. 

Most of them seemed to think Y/N was okay, but her best friend Prentiss and  JJ knew better. They could see the fear glistening in her eyes. 

The unsub punched Y/N across the face and Y/N’s head fell back. She continued to spit and cough out blood. JJ’s heart stopped and flinched slightly at the sight. 

“Alright now that I’ve knocked the sense into you, are you ready to deliver my message?” the unsub asked, his voice distorted. 

“No. You can’t break me, is that the best you can do?” Y/N asked knowing that it’ll hopefully give Garcia enough time to track something, anything down. 

Then there came another punch. Her eye immediately started to bruise, “Come on baby. Do it for me.” the unsub whispered in a gross seductive voice.

“Jay,” you whisper, but the room is quiet enough that the camera picks it up, “I love you and for you I’d do anything.” 

“That’s not what I asked you to say!” the unsub screamed punching Y/N again, “Now say what I told you!” 

“He wants to ruin our lives. One by one, he’s been stalking us for years. If we don’t give him what he wants, he will ruin us.” she says finally following orders. 

“Now what do I want?” he asks.

“Hotch he wants the files, something about the Black Hood. I don’t know why, but he wants them. Specifically from you and Rossi.” Y/N says blood dripping down her mouth. 

“Good girl.” he whispers, “Now Hotchner, Rossi, Morgan, Jareau, Prentiss, Garcia, and Reid, Agent Y/L/N doesn’t have a lot of time. She’s definitely a tough cookie to break, but I never back down from a challenge. I’m gonna call you guys to set up a deal, you’ll know who it is once I call,” the unsub gets closer to Y/N and his mouth is right by her ear as his hands wander along her body, “And in the mean time, we’re gonna have lots of fun aren’t we Y/N?” 

The camera cuts out and JJ releases a scream, “No! No! No!” she begins to pace back and forth.

“JJ get a hold of yourself right now. If your ability to go along with this case professionally is compromised then I will gladly have you sit this one out.” Hotch yells sternly. 

“No you don’t get to tell me that I have to calm down. When we went after Foyet your emotions were compromised yet all of still stood by your side. No one questioned your authority. When Doyle went after Emily, all of our emotions were compromised yet none of us were threatened to sit this one out. So you have no right to do the same to me. I am not some local detective, I am a BAU agent!” JJ yells and everyone is taken aback in surprise, but she’s not wrong. 

They all went through something, yet none of them were threatened to step down. Especially Hotch with Foyet. Hotch and JJ continued to stare at each other none of them willing to break until Reid chimed in. 

“The Black Hood case, that was a case in Riverdale back in the late 80′s to early 90′s. Where the killer went around terrorizing the town focusing on ‘sinners’ and he wanted to cleanse the town. What would the unsub want with the files?” Reid asks and Rossi steps in to try and break the tension.

“Me and Hotch worked together on it. We caught the guy fairly quickly. I always thought that it was too easy, but they just explained we got lucky that he slipped. Maybe we got it wrong, maybe we didn’t catch the unsub.” Rossi points out and after one last look at JJ, Hotch breaks his position.

“It’s always a possibility, but that would make him in his mid to late 60s. It can’t be him now can it?” Hotch points out pointing at the video.

“No, this guy looks to strong and his temper is too high for an older man. Plus he was very sexual towards Y/N, an older man wouldn’t have that kind of hormones.” Prentiss observes. 

“Maybe a son? A family member?” Morgan asks. 

“But why would they want the files if they know their dad wasn’t caught?” JJ chimes in finally after getting her breathing under control, her hand resting on her stomach. 

Something that Emily picked up on fairly quickly, but brushed it off. She’ll talk to her about it when the time is right. Not right now. 

The cover photo of the video was Y/N sitting there with blood dripping down her mouth. The unsub right next to her ear. JJ’s eyes couldn’t leave that picture. The picture of you in pain and scared. 

“Maybe it’s not the actual Black Hood’s son. Maybe it’s the one who was caught and framed for it. He died in jail recently didn’t he? That could be his son’s stressor. He believed and was told his dad was innocent for so long that maybe he knows it wasn’t him. He wants to prove his dad wasn’t as terrible as everyone thinks. Sorta like an avenger, he wants to avenge his dad’s legacy!” Reid yells at and Hotch nods.

“Sounds like a good start Garcia-” he begins to say, but Garcia cuts him off.

“Already on it sir.” Garcia responds tapping rapidly on her computer.

“I’m gonna get some air.” JJ says and the rest of the team nods, but she’s already gone before she can get a response.

Hotch nods his head towards the door to let Emily know to follow and make sure she’s okay which she gladly obliged to. 

              ______________________________________________________ 

JJ’s POV

I ran outside the BAU doors and immediately threw up in the bush closest to me, tears pouring down my face. The thought of the unsub doing that to Y/N and watching it made me sick to my stomach. Not only that, but the thought of what he’s doing to her right now. 

I felt someone hold my hair back which I immediately tensed up to, “It’s okay. It’s just me.” I hear Emily whisper and my shoulders immediately relax.

After throwing up my entire breakfast I look at Em and she has concern brimming her eyes, “I’m scared Em.” 

“I know, but Y/N’s strong. She’s a tough cookie and I know she’ll fight whoever this asshole is just so she can be with you.” she reassures me and i nod. 

“Are you okay? I know how close you guys are. You were practically attached to the hip ever since you joined the team.” I ask her and she lets out a small sigh before biting her fingernails. 

“A part of me feels guilty, well all of me. I wanted a coffee and her being the sweet person she is wanted to get one for me, but it was also just an excuse for her to not finish her paperwork. But I also know that Y/N’s glad it was her and not me. If she let me go out like that she wouldn’t forgive herself, so she took the risk, just to protect me. And I know she’d want us to stay strong and keep things light, but it’s hard when we witnessed what we just saw and knowing that she went out to protect me. Not just me, but all of us. That could be any one of us right now, but she decided to take the leap.” Em responds shaking her head. 

“She really is a hero...” I respond placing my hands over my stomach again. 

Emily was about to say something before her phone went off, “Hotch says Garcia just got something. We gotta go back in.” I’m about to cry again when Emily pulls me into a hug, “We’re gonna get her back.” 

              ______________________________________________________

Team’s POV

“What have we got?” Prentiss asks as her and JJ walk into the room.

“Rylan Svenson, 24 year old son of Brett Svenson. This would’ve made him about 12 years old at the time of the murders. A good enough age to know where your dad was at the time of the murders. He now lives in Richmond, Virginia after moving from Riverdale, 4 years ago, and makes the daily commute as a postal worker here in Quantico.” Garcia explains, “No criminal record, but grown up in a rough social environment. Seems like he was a bit of loner in high school because everyone believed his dad was the Black Hood.” 

“I think we’ve got our guy.” Rossi states and everyone nods. 

“Alright when he calls we need to keep him on the line for as long as possible. He’s gonna have Y/N do most of the talking so JJ?” JJ turns her attention to Hotch, “Can you keep her talking? Try to make conversation, we’ll try to have Garcia track down the call. Or see if we can notice something that we didn’t notice before.” 

“I can keep her talking.” JJ nods and Hotch nods back. 

              ______________________________________________________

Your POV

*3 h o u r s l a t e r*

“Wakey, wakey princess,” Rylan whispers to you, he just injected some drug into your arm causing you to pass out, “It’s time for your special call home.” 

You can feel your heart rate rising even higher each time he injects a drug into you after back talking him. Your pant leg has a hole in it. He stabbed you when his hands started to bleed from all the punching and then he wrapped the wound. He can’t get what he wants if you’re dead. He sets up the video camera and hits the call button after a few moments the team answers.

You can’t help, but smile at Hotch and Rossi in front of you, “Rylan Svenson? Is that you?” Hotch asks and Rylan has an evil smirk on his face.

“Took you a while to figure it out huh Hotch?” he responds. 

“I remember you. You were just a little kid when we met.” Rossi points out. 

“Yeah and I told you countless times it wasn’t my dad!” he yells out which causes you to flinch back lightly, last time he yelled liked that a knife penetrated your leg. 

“Jay,” you whisper again and you smile at JJ’s face appearing into the frame. 

“Hi love, you stay strong for me okay?” she whispers back smiling sadly at the nickname that only you call her.

You’re about to reply when Rylan pops in, “You know I wish I could’ve kidnapped you instead Jareau. It would have been a lot more fun to see them rush to find you especially since you’re pregnant,” your eyes wide slightly at what he said, “Oh wait...no one knows yet do they?” 

“Is that true?” you ask your voice raspy and dry.

JJ nods, “Yeah it is. I found out a couple weeks ago, IVF worked, love. We’re gonna have a baby.” JJ’s voice cracked and you couldn’t helped, but smile at the thought of your little family. 

“Which is why I need you to keep fighting. I need you to stay alive and stay strong not just for me, but for us,” she whispers placing her hands over her stomach. 

Little to your knowledge the boys noticed something in the background that gave away where you were and they were on their way now; JJ just needs to keep you on camera for a little longer. 

“I need you to stay alive so that we can lay in bed during our days off or late at night talking about baby names. I need you to stay alive so you can come with me to his or her first doctor’s appointment and we can hear their heartbeat. I need you to stay alive so we can paint their new bedroom and buy cute little clothes for them. I need you to stay alive so our son or daughter can meet their mom.” JJ had tears running down her face now and so did you, your heart rate still rising due to mix of drugs in your system, “Please Y/N. Please promise me that you will come home to us.” 

JJ extends her pinky out towards the camera and you do the same. She brings her hand closer to her lips and kisses it softly and you’re about to do the same when everything goes black again.

              ______________________________________________________

JJ’s POV

Y/N’s about to kiss her hand when all of a sudden her eyes rolls to the back of her head. All of a sudden her body starts to jolt as foam starts to come out of her mouth. 

“Rylan Sverson hands up right now!” I hear Morgan yell. 

Rylan automatically takes off through the backdoor, but knowing them one of them was waiting out there for him. Reid comes into the frame and releases Y/N from the ropes and places her on her side.

He starts to count out loud probably timing the length of the seizure, “We need a medic in here! Right now!” Instead of going back to counting Reid starts doing chest compressions.

“JJ meet us at the hospital, we’ll be right there!” Hotch points out and the camera cuts out. 

I release a loud sob at the sight of Reid doing chest compressions. Garcia and Prentiss escorts me to the car, neither of them leaving my side throughout the entire car ride. 

They keep telling me it’s gonna be okay, but I can’t listen to them right now. The only thing I can focus on right now is hearing from Y/N herself that she’s okay. 

We get to the hospital to find the boys already there like they promised. They explain that the doctors have her in the operating room right now. Other than her bloodstream, her leg seems like the only part of her injured. Rylan injected her with a mix of cocaine, meth, and heroine causing her brain and heart to haywire. They needed to give her a blood transfusion to get all of the drugs out, it seemed like a simple procedure, but anything could happen. 

Rylan Sverson died, he was shot multiple times by Rossi for trying to shoot Hotch for trying to negotiate. 

The whole team sat with me in the waiting room. Strauss even stopped by for a little before ultimately having to leave to finish up the paperwork that you didn’t get to finish. 

“I’m sorry that I snapped and threatened to take you off the case.” Hotch sat down next to me and said. “It’s okay, I understand.” I whispered back. 

“You know like Reid when Y/N joined remember how young she was? A bright eyed innocent girl excited for her new job at becoming a hero,” he begins and smiles softly, “Usually that innocence and that brightness fades with time, all of these horrible things we see on a daily basis it’s only a matter of time before it does. But Y/N has been with us for four years and not once have I seen it fade. From the day I met her I knew I wanted to protect her like a sister so me yelling at you was just a way to yell at myself to stay calm and professional.” 

I look up at him and he as tears forming in his eyes. I place my hand on his knee, “She’s gonna be okay.” and he nods agreeing. 

Many many hours passed when Y/N’s doctor finally came out, “She’s okay. The wound in her leg is all stitched up and her bloodstream is still clearing out. We got most of the drugs out, but some still linger. So we want to keep her here a little longer for precautions. But she’s awake and alert asking for Agent Jareau here.” 

“Thank you Doctor.” Hotch says with a small smile and he nods before leaving. 

“You guys can come in too. I know she’d love to see you all.” I say and we make our way to her hospital room.

              ______________________________________________________

Your POV

There was a soft knock at the door and you saw the team standing there with smiles on their faces.

“Hey guys!” you try to say with much enthusiasm as possible, but your tired state made it hard.

“Hey kid.” Morgan smiles as he got closer before ruffling your hair and your scrunch your nose up in annoyance. 

Rossi gave you a fist bump, Hotch gave you one of his nods and a small smile, Reid, Prentiss, and Garcia all piled on top of you in one of the best group hugs you could ever get. 

“Jareau,” you say softly as she plants herself next to your bedside. 

You can see the tears that are already formed in her eyes, “Y/L/N,” she smiles at you softly and you gladly return the smile. 

“You did really well out there Y/N.” Hotch says, “You took the risk to go out there. You knew how dangerous it was, yet you still went out because you knew if any one of us went out it would’ve ended the same way. I wish you didn’t do that and thought of yourself first, but I think on behalf of all of us: Thank you.” 

“Woah that was deep, I was just trying to get out of doing paperwork.” you joke trying to lighten the serious mood and the worried looks on their face, which worked, their worried faced turned into smiles. 

“That’s the sarcasm and smart ass remarks we missed and appreciate.” Rossi adds smiling.

“In all seriousness, I couldn’t let Prentiss out there and I knew that if you guys took one step out there alone, it would’ve been any one of you. You all mean so much to me I couldn’t allow that to happen.” you say and they all send your grateful smiles except for JJ who just seems lost in thought.

Prentiss picks up on JJ’s behavior and decides to step in, “I think we should give you guys some time to talk.” the rest of the team nods before saying their goodbyes. 

After they leave JJ just continued to stand there staring into emptiness, “Pull up a chair, stay awhile.” you say jokingly trying to see that beautiful smile of her, but ultimately end up empty. 

“Jay, baby, what’s going on?” you whisper and her gorgeous blue eyes finally lock with yours.

“I almost lost you today. We almost lost you today.” she whispers emphasizing the we in her sentence and you let out a soft sigh.

You scoot over a little in your bed and pat the spot next to her so she can cuddle up next to you. She hesitates at first, but ultimately sits down. Her head immediately goes onto your chest as her leg wrapped around your healthy one. Your arms wrapped her body as she fit into you perfectly. 

You kiss the top of her head when she’s finally settled in, “I’m right here Jay. I promise you, I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you or our baby ever. It will always be us.” 

“I know what your intentions were and they were good, but if we didn’t get there in time. If one thing went differently, you wouldn’t be here right now and I’d be holding a lifeless body.” she begins to cry onto your hospital gown. 

You let her cry playing with her softly, “But I’m right here now baby. I’m real, I’m not a dream or a pigment of your imagination. I’m right here.” you squeeze her a little tighter and she looks up at you. You plant a soft kiss to those perfect lips of hers. 

You place your hand over her stomach before leaning down a little to whisper, “Hey there cutie. I’m your mom and I can’t wait to meet you! You’re gonna have the best little family out there. You’ll have Uncle Derek, Uncle Aaron, Uncle David, and Uncle Spencer. Your aunt’s are the best too, Aunt Penelope and Aunt Emily. You also have the best mommy out there, she’s a hero! And me and your mommy are gonna make sure we protect you and keep that little sparkle in your eyes for as long as we can. I promise.” you place your pinky over her belly before kissing your hand softly. 

              ______________________________________________________

You and JJ walk into the BAU to visit the team with both of you on maternity leave for awhile it’s hard to see them. And it was especially hard when they were on a case when JJ was in labor. 

You held JJ’s hand in one of your hands and in the other was the baby’s carseat. JJ knocked on the briefing room door before entering, everyone looked up and smiled at the two of you. 

“You guys have another three weeks! Get out of here!” Rossi yells jokingly and we all laugh. 

“We just wanted you guys to meet our son: Daniel Aaron Jareau or Dani for short” you take Dani out of his little carseat and hold him in your arms. 

Everyone gathered around and witnessed the beautiful piece of innocence in front of them. 

“Aaron huh?” Hotch asks raising his eyebrows and giving one of his rare smiles. 

“Yeah right. Couldn’t have been Derek.” Derek scoffs.

“Or Spencer,” Reid chimes in. 

“Or David!” Rossi yells and we all laugh. 

“We just thought it was fitting.” JJ smiled at Hotch thinking back to the conversation she had with him back at the hospital. 

“Well I’m honored.” he smiles even wider, probably wider than you ever seen it.

They all looked at the newborn in front of them. Each of them taking turns holding him. He had JJ’s beautiful blue eyes, but now they were mixed with your innocence that everyone seemed to love. 

Dani Aaron Jareau was just another reminder that no matter how dark and twisted this world is, no matter how many bad things they witness on a daily basis, that there’s always some sunshine or light to fill the darkness.