#and why is this night keeps getting worse

[xinganhao]

✏️ seatmates joshua x reader.

prompt: "we sit next to each other every day, i lend you pencils, you share snacks with me, people are assuming we’re a couple, let���s go with that." ✶ part of my svt university milestone event

⤿ fluff, slight miscommunication, joshua is whipped, jeongcheol [if u squint!]. more content under the cut. ♡⸝⸝ prompt from anon!

It's not looking like a good start of the week for Seungcheol.

He had an insane bender the night before. He missed the morning bus to school and ended up walking the whole two-kilometer way. And now, the not-quite-a-couple duo who sat in front of him at class was back on their bullshit again.

With his fingers pressed to his temple, Seungcheol watches warily as the starry-eyed boy— Joshua, Seungcheol thinks his name is— places a canned coffee atop the edge of your desk. God, Seungcheol would kill for that right about now.

He's too far gone to make out anything the two of you are saying, but Seungcheol can fill in the blanks. It's probably something stupid, he thinks bitterly. Good morning, love. How was your weekend, love? I missed you, love.

Blegh.

There's only one thing he can think to do. Seungcheol whips out his phone and shoots out a quick slew of texts, trying to ignore the way that Joshua has begun to laugh a little too loud at something you just said.

Seungcheol it's a monday and i'm hungover and the pretty boy in front of me keeps making heart eyes at his seatmate he's laughing. i'm hungover to the heavens and he's laughing god what have i done to deserve this god when will it be my turn Jeonghan you think someone else is pretty? :( Seungcheol do NOT start with me rn

Seokmin doesn't think Joshua notices.

It's just like Joshua, really, to be a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to matters of the heart. And so Seokmin nods along, the perfect picture of indulgence, as you wheedle your way into Joshua's every day.

You don't even have to show up in the physical sense. Joshua fills in those gaps for you. I think they'll like this, Joshua (while holding a box of some obscure snack) tells Seokmin at the grocery store. They'll get a kick out of that, Joshua cackles as he snaps a photo of a silly eraser.

Seokmin knows he could, should probably ask his best friend what the hell is going on. The boy is in desperate need of a quick 'check-the-label' moment, honestly.

In the end, Seokmin decides: Not my circus, not my monkeys.

He figures the two of you will eventually hammer it out yourselves. It's a rite of passage, isn't it? The limbo of flirtation, confined in the four corners of a classroom. The happy crush that may or may not reciprocate.

As Joshua all but skips— honest-to-God skips!— to the Wednesday session of his class with you, Seokmin can't help the fond shake of his head at what Joshua has gotten himself into. Sharing snacks and stationery every M/W/F?

There are worse situationships to have, Seokmin concedes.

Professor Kang has been in the academe for nearly two decades.

He's watched relationships bloom, and last, and end. One or two students have even invited him to their weddings. There's no shortage of gossip in the faculty rooms; there's always a seating plan to orchestrate, a partnered project to use for a little drama.

He likes to think he has a sixth sense for this sort of thing, and that's why he initially believed that you and Joshua... aren't really a thing.

Sure, the two of you bend your heads together a little too close when discussing something. He notices, too, the exchanges— both the transactional and spoken ones. But he's unconvinced, for the most part of the semester, that there's not really anything worth reading into.

That is, until, you don't show up to class one day. On a whim, Professor Kang asks Joshua about your absence, and the boy fumbles with his phone for a couple of minutes.

"Doctor's appointment," Joshua eventually divulges, though there's a slightly worried crease in his eyebrows that has Professor Kang thinking, huh.

That huh gives way to an ah when, at the next class, the two of you slot right back into place. Professor Kang catches bits and pieces of your conversation with Joshua; how he eagerly inquires about your Friday plans, how he listens intently to your little rants.

As the two of you walk out the classroom, your shoulders brush. It's slight enough that anybody not really looking would miss it, would dismiss it, but Professor Kang can only watch with amusement. Joshua apologizes for crowding you— only to take an infinitesimal step closer as the two of you leave the classroom.

By the time the two of you are out in the hall, your shoulders are almost touching again.

Ah, Professor Kang thinks. He swears he's seen it all in the past twenty years, but he's not immune to making mistakes.

Perhaps they're a little bit in love, after all.

[kisses4reid]

scare | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, (part 1)

synopsis - you’re in a relationship with some one else and have a pregnancy scare, both your own reaction and spencer’s makes you realise that you’re not happy.

genre - bau!reader x spencer, friends to lovers, multi-part, pregnancy scare, reader has sort of a douche bf, one sided love (at first), angst and fluff

warnings - pregnancy talk, mentions of sex, unhealthy relationships, stress, sickness

w/c - 1.4k?? take a guess cause that’s mine.

a/n - i’ve got 9 weeks free. yeah, i have a job. and yeah, i have about 6 other hobbies i enjoy. but am i gonna make promises i can’t keep about writing more?? yeah. i am. here, enjoy. (pls lemme know abt mistakes it’s rlly late at night rn.)

The plane whirrs, small chatter from Morgan and who you assumed to be Penelope over the phone humming along with the music you try to distract yourself with. It isn’t working.

Because every song has its own special and quirky musical instrument that happens to sound like a message notification. And you keep getting your hopes up.

Your left leg started to bounce, your fingernails found their way to your anxious teeth. And Spencer noticed.

He noticed about halfway through the case, when you stopped talking as much, started drinking an influx of water, started discreetly taking pain medication. At first, he thought it was a simple stomach bug, and he knew your stomach didn’t agree with a lot of travel. But then you started getting nervous.

Spencer glanced at you a few times before moving, sitting next to you (attempting to be discreet). He can’t be discreet though, because every time he’s around you, his body does this weird thing where it can’t decide whether it should be instantly calm or instantly more nervous. Your presence stopped his fidgeting hands, his tired thoughts. But god, when he looked at you, it’s like his heart wants to see you for itself.

And right now his heart hurt, why were you scared?

You barely noticed Spencer sit down, usually you would, but your phone was annoyingly blank, silent. You turned it off and on three times, and re-entered the plane’s wifi password five times.

And now your stomach was grumbling, and not in the way that those nice small sandwiches can help out with.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped, taking your earphones out and staring at Spencer surprised. You laughed nervously, quietly, “Spencer! Sorry. Yeah, I’m fine.”

His warm eyes searched yours and for a second you could ignore the tight feeling in your chest. It made you think back around 8 months ago, when Penelope, your childhood best friend and now co-worker, created a pros and cons list for both Lloyd, and… Spencer.

It was unprofessional and inappropriate, especially when you decided to listen because you had nothing better to do. And especially when she started making some good points.

He squinted his eyes, and you sighed.

“Sorry, I’m just a bit antsy. Feeling a bit… off.”

You felt sick, and stressed, and like your thoughts were going to be the cause of your death. Because you’ve never been sick like this. And to your overworked brain, it only meant one thing.

Spencer’s a great profiler. And although the team collectively agreed to not profile each other, it becomes hard for Spencer when the girl he’s in love with is so obviously in distress. Even worse when he can’t be the hero.

“I can leave you to sleep if you want.” He says, getting up to leave.

“Oh, no. That’s okay. Honestly, I think sleeping would just make it worse.”

Ah, right. Travel sickness, Spencer thought. He gaps his mouth slightly and nods. He relaxes into the couch and looks over to you, heart picking up slightly as pieces of hair fell from your loose ponytail.

You looked over to the table he was previously sat at, the book you gifted him last Christmas open and nearly finished. You smiled to yourself, but it was bittersweet.

“You’re actually reading it?” You asked, looking back at him with slight surprise.

“Of course. I’ve read it 6 times already, it’s a great pallet cleanser- Just like you said in that Christmas card!” He smiled childishly, like he was recalling the first snow.

“I know right! It’s so simple but interesting, I mean I’ve only read it three times but to me I always found it to clear my head.”

Spencer angled himself towards you, “Did you know that the author actually interviewed his daughter’s teachers to see what ages teachers were more invested in compared to class sizes? He said in an interview that depending on a students intelligence, there’s an underlying emotional connection made between student and teacher,” he took a breath, “It plays into the intelligence to ego ratio that so many people claim isn’t true. Which I’m not trying to say you have a big ego, or that I do-“

You waved you hands, “Woah, woah. Why would I think you’re talking about me?”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you’re very intelligent.”

“Oh!… Thanks for thinking I’m intelligent, or smart.” You shrugged, “But I think you insulted yourself. You don’t have a 187 IQ for nothing do you?”

“You remembered my IQ?” He laughed nervously. His smile warms your chest like a candle. Like that candle he got you randomly in April, after you mentioned your favourite one being used up by your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend. Ugh.

You smile falters for only a second, “Of course. You only mention it to every person that second guesses you.”

He nods and smiles, “Must be my ego.”

You laugh, subconsciously bumping your shoulder with his. But- Jesus. Your stomach is queasy.

“Hey, uh, do you want some travel sickness pills?” He reached over for his satchel but you grab his forearm and smile as convincingly as you can.

“No, no. We’re landing soon, but thank you.”

You’re overreacting.

That’s what he said. When you texted your boyfriend of a year and a half that you thought you were pregnant he said, You’re overreacting. Two words, two hours after your first text, on his day off.

Maybe you are. You started feeling sick on a slightly more gory case, it’s lasted ever since the case started, you get travel sick as well.

The headaches are from the computer screen and stress. The stress is from fatigue. The fatigue is because of the lack of sleep. The lack of sleep is because of the headaches.

Why do you always do this? Always thinking that there’s something wrong with you. Always being the biggest person in your own life, selfish.

But… what if?

There’s a sudden squeak from behind you, and you instantly snapped out of it. You took a deep breath and looked at your surroundings. You were at your desk, standing, the strap of your bag clutched in your hands - god, your knuckles were white. Your eyes darted in surprise and confusion, and you jumped once again when Spencer spoke into the silence.

“You okay?”

“Um…”

You didn’t look back at him, only looking down at your shoes and taking a deep breath. You plastered on a smile despite the bile collecting in your throat.

“Yeah! Yeah, I’m fine. I’ve gonna go, the bus leaves at um…”

You took out your phone. He didn’t even respond to your text asking him to pick you up.

“I’ll drive you home. But uh, I gotta pick up some groceries. I hope you don’t mind.”

He curved to your desk and gently took your bag from your hands, glancing at the way you traced your knuckles and how the leather strap now had slight wrinkles in it. He smiled, warmly. And he started walking like you rejecting the idea wasn’t an option.

Which is wasn’t, because he knew you too well.

“Well, a cucumber actually has 3% more water than watermelon. So if you really want a refreshing snack, cucumber is your man.”

You smiled and raised your eyebrows in interest. He’s had many vegetables and fruits in the basket, not a lot of protein. Explained a lot.

My man, you thought with a smile.

My man, you shivered.

“I don’t like cucumbers.” You said like it was distraction, and he nodded, picking up some kewpie mayo as he you around to the next aisle. He glanced at you,

“I know. You say it’s tasteless. I like it.” He shrugged.

“I know.” You smiled, and he smiles back.

God, you wish you could bask in it, the warmth. But your chest was still tingly, and your heart hadn’t stopped aching ever since you got excited about an email notification.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay? I noticed you’ve been tense for like… a week.” He grabbed some pasta sauce and put his hand on your shoulder to turn you around - you obviously looked too far into your own head.

“Yeah, just feeling-“

“Y/n.” He turned to you, stopping your venture into the dairy aisle. His eyes were hard, worried. The fluorescent lights swayed slightly. A worker walked by the end of the aisle with a trolley full of food.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t,” he lifted one arm, wanting to rest his hand on your upper arm, to help you, “Don’t say sorry. Just tell me what’s going on.”

“I have been feeling sick. That’s true. And I’ve been stressed and, thinking a lot. A lot.”

It felt weird to nearly tell Spencer about your relationship problems. It was like complaining to a doctor about healing crystals. It was like a slap in the face. Maybe that’s why you never did tell him about it, because it was facing your fears.

It was the pros and cons list made by Penelope.

But I’m overreacting.

“It’s nothing.”

Spencer sighed. You had that habit, of nearly opening up, and then shutting the door just as he was about to walk in.

You heard his sigh.

“Okay. I gave Lloyd my car because he has the day off, and he likes going to his friends houses on his days off. And, I told him something that should probably freak him out. But he doesn’t really care. I don’t think he really cares, about anything. At least about me.”

You started walking, because holy shit you’ve never said that out loud before, and Spencer followed you,

“Y/n, if you want to tell me something-“

“I think I’m pregnant.” You stopped, and started picking at your fingers, acting as if it was admitting to not knowing your left and rights, or that you don’t really like coconut.

His eyes widen, and his heart drops. It was like his worst nightmare coming true- jesus, how could he even think about himself right now? The girl he loved felt trapped with a man she thought might be the father of her baby.

Spencer gulped, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You looked at each other, scared, you more than him. And then you cringed,

“God, I’m sorry Spencer. I shouldn’t have said anything-“

“No- Y/n, it’s fine. I’m glad you told me-“

“I haven’t even, like, taken a test yet-“

“Wait so-”

You spun on your heel and looked at him exasperated.

“So… let’s go get some tests.” He said (he hopes) calmly. He was really trying, to pretend to be calm and collected. That’s what you needed, a clear head to replace yours.

He paid for everything, even the 5 pregnancy tests and the over sized lollipop you put in the basket to ease your nerves later on.

The moon was high, you were about three hours late to get home now, and your head was attacking itself with rambles and aches and honestly, you were sick of it.

You shivered, huddling in your jacket and drawing only slightly closer to Spencer. His silence was like a hook, drawing you in closer and higher and taking every word you had been thinking that day to the tip of your tongue.

You looked up to him. His hair fell into his eyes, the breeze reddening his cheeks slightly.

It’s Spencer. You’ve known him for nearly 6 years, but it feels like you’ve known each other for ever. You know everything about him, and he knows everything about you. Well, not everything. He doesn’t know how you feel in your own apartment, how every anniversary had been forgotten even when it was the ‘1 year’ mark, how you felt like you were raising an over grown child who could drink.

He knows you’re strong, but admitting all that? I’d look weak.

You have looked weak in front of Spencer. He stayed overnight in your hospital room, he held you when you watched a little girl die, he wiped your tears when you watched a sad short film during your break.

You couldn’t hide anything from him.

“I don’t think I’m pregnant- Well, I mean I might be, but there’s a very low chance,” You started, Spencer’s jaw clenched for a millisecond, “I’ve just been feeling sick and… it could be because of stress from work, or just general stress- like, I don’t know.”

Spencer moved the grocery bag to his other hand.

“Kids are great, don’t get me wrong. Some people don’t get the chance to have kids. I mean…” You gulped, and Spencer finally looked down at you. But now, all you could do was stare at the car park’s concrete floor. Speaking out loud was like clearing your brain, the fog was lifting. “Lloyd doesn’t want kids. I do, at least in the future, not right now. I just hope it’s not with-“ You cut yourself off, and slow down a bit. Spencer matches your pace.

I just hope it’s not with him.

He gulps, and clears his throat, looking down at you with understanding eyes, “With everything that’s going on.”

“Yeah… yeah. You know, my job, my…” It’s no use lying to Spencer. He knows. He’s known, for a long time.

Your chest was tight, and you made eye contact with the pregnancy tests lying on top of Spencer’s groceries. The thought of going home, rushing to the bathroom, avoiding your boyfriend who was already waiting angry, made your throat close up. Because only now, when you were three hours late from work and ignoring his one attempt at a phone call, Lloyd texted, ‘I think you need to calm down.’ It was a bare minimum, and finally Spencer could see you realizing it.

No, ‘Wre you okay?’, ‘What’s making you think this?’ ‘Where are you?’

No. He was making you out to be the crazy one, the one to be over thinking, over bearing, too much.

You were confused. To put it blankly. And scared. And questioning your life decisions. And honestly you just wanted to curl up in a ball and to have Spencer make you bad cucumber salad at his warm apartment.

You looked up to Spencer but he was already looking down at you, reaching for his keys and nodding, “You can come to mine, it’ll be okay.”

taglist (open) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m @aurorsworld @theoraekenslover @c-losur3 @littlelearningbrat @khxna @laurakirsten0502 @cultish-corner

[hexxedcore]

idk if you write for Jayce and I'm kinda having mixed feelings about him after act2 but hear me out: yandere! Jayce's first priority being to look for you after getting out of the hexcore

shamefully i am prioritising this because i have quite a lot of thoughts as of act two 💔. writing will be beneath the cut for people who wish to avoid spoilers. nsfw is included and given a separated section!

also, yes i write for (and love) jayce. i stand with my cancelled wife 💯

WARNINGS: YANDERE, possessive behaviour, delusion, unhealthy + toxic relationship, S2 ACT 2 SPOILERS. NSFW, marking

SFW:

If ‘tunnel vision’ was personified, it would be Jayce after coming out of the Arcane. This man clearly witnessed something so incomprehensibly horrible that it’s amped his determination up to 100%. Good luck with that.

After quite literally squashing Salo, his main mission is you. Find you and protecting you from whatever he witnessed in those Wild Runes from becoming true. Now, we don’t know how quickly time passed for him, but it had to be a long time. God knows what happened to you while he wasn’t there to keep a watchful eye on you. You were hopeless without him — you could be injured, or worse.

You were exactly where he thought you’d be. Tossing restlessly in a bed that was far too large for one person, wondering why exactly his absence was just so abrupt. No letter, no goodbye that morning; radio silence.

You were in for a shock when you were startled awake by the sound of something heavy and burdened being dragged on the floorboards, having little protection save for a knife you’d procured from the kitchen in the case that any burglars attempted to make themselves cozy.

And you were just about to throw it, too, when he stepped into the small gap of your bedside lamp. This was hardly the Jayce you knew; haggard, disheveled, scruffy — most of all, startled, his breathing laboured and his hands tightly clasping his hammer.

That man had dropped his weapon and was on you in seconds; holding you, clutching you, in the fear that you would dissipate if you weren’t treated carefully. The tight was warm and shaky, but most of all oh so incredibly suffocating.

That night there is one thing he’s promising you, like a mantra: he is never letting you go again.

NSFW:

This man is starving and there is absolutely nothing getting in the way of that. He comes out of the Arcane like he’s in a rut and poor old you for having to cope with it. Good luck.

Jayce doesn’t feel like he has the time to be sensual. He can, and still is of course, but he’s rough in the sense that it’s animalistic. He’s acting on his basest desires now, and that’s a stark desire for you.

There is nothing more that this man gets a kick out of than marking you. For general yandere hcs, yeah, but Act Two him? The whole world is finding out about it, believe it. And god forbid you leave some scratches on his back — he’d go feral.

Constantly muttering affirmations that you aren’t going anywhere, that you are so divine yet so so hopeless without him. You missed his cock while he was gone? He’ll make up for that, because like he’d let someone else do the job.

[mvrkieboo]

Old Bloodhounds

P51 | jeong y/n

"Thank you for this, Park. I appreciate it." Taeyong spoke tiredly into the phone, and he could hear Chanyeol laugh on the other line.

"Kid, you've worked with me for nearly a year now, ease up a bit and just call me Chanyeol. Here, the name at the top of the list, Kim Soyeon, owns a café in Sinchon. Says here it's supposed to close in another hour. Hey, I'll give you the rest of the info through text—just get going already, Yongie." Chanyeol's voice took a sober turn, understanding the current mood. It was also Chanyeol who ended the call right after.

Kyungsoo had texted him you were currently undergoing emergency surgery, and you were probably getting out of it the next morning considering the stab wound punctured your lung and broke through your ribs. The paramedic also found that there was a nasty gash at the back of your head, a possible concussion...or worse. Taeyong cringed when he read the details of your injuries, but he shook his head.

You were going to make it out alive, he was sure of it. From what he had gathered from Kyungsoo about who you were as a person, you were strong, and you'd been good in keeping your promise to them to hold on—so Taeyong had a lot of trust in you that you'd keep that promise 'til the end.

Nobody on the list was picking up his calls, it's why he asked for Chanyeol's assistance in gathering more info regarding the people on your list. When Chanyeol's text came through, Taeyong focused on the address of Kim Soyeon's café.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

When Taeyong parked the car, that's when he noticed the bloodstains you had left on his jacket and shirt. His jacket was already black, so it didn't really show, but his button-up shirt under the jacket was light blue—now partly red, soaked in your blood. He took out his wet tissue packet and cleaned his jacket before zipping it all the way up. Glancing at his cleaned up watch, it was currently 8:21 p.m. He got out of the car with a heavy feeling lingering in his chest.

As he got to the café's front entrance, your note in his hands, he noticed that the sign on the front entrance said 'CLOSED' and another note below said 'PRIVATE EVENT'. Since the café had large window panes all over, he could see there was a private celebration inside, and there were mostly young adult attendees. He knocked on the glass door, and a kind looking middle aged woman opened the door, not exiting fully.

"Good evening. I'm sorry, but the café is closed to the public for now—"

Taeyong shook his head awkwardly and took out his badge, showing it to her.

"My name is Lee Taeyong, and I'm a detective from Gangnam's Police Force. Ma'am, do you happen to be Kim Soyeon?" This wouldn't be the first time he had to do a house visit to inform a victim's family, but it never got easier.

And it never will.

Soyeon paused, before exiting the café completely and closed the door behind her. Nobody noticed the exchange happening, too caught up in their own conversations.

At first, Soyeon thought he was here to inform about her ex-husband—maybe found dead from alcohol poisoning somewhere in Gangnam, or he was arrested and needed someone to bail him out. So that was the first thing she asked.

"Is this about my ex-husband?" Soyeon pursed her lips a little, hugging herself in the cold autumn night.

"No, ma'am, it's regarding...it's Jeong Y/N. I understand that— based on this note she gave me—you're close with her?" Taeyong felt like he was speaking with a mouth filled with molasses. His tongue felt heavy, and even his lips too.

He showed the note to Kim Soyeon, suddenly finding himself tongue-tied. When she read the contents of the note, her hands began to shake as her grip on the note tightened, crumpling the paper.

"...she's like a daughter to me. Did something happen to her?" She spoke in a near whispery tone, and Taeyong almost didn't hear her.

When Soyeon clarified her relationship with you, calling you a daughter figure to her, Taeyong's heart broke into two as he felt shame creeping up his body. He moved to kneel before her, making her shriek, because she knew that a detective wouldn't kneel to a random civilian unless something really bad actually happened to you.

Everyone else in the café froze in silence when they heard her shriek and turned to the glass doors of the front entrance, seeing an unknown man kneeling in front of Soyeon. Geonwoo marched up to the front entrance, opening the glass doors immediately, worried for his mother. Woojin was just right behind him.

"Mom, what's going—"

She bent down, hands on Taeyong's shoulders as she pulled on his jacket, and as his jacket rode up, his bloodstained shirt under peaked through, gaining Woojin's attention at just how soaked in blood it was. The note dropped on the pavement near Taeyong's knees.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO HER? WHERE'S Y/N! TELL ME!" Soyeon yelled loudly, pulling the attention of the people inside and outside of the café.

Yuno and his father, upon hearing your name, quickly went to the front entrance too, wondering why Soyeon was shrieking out your name like a mad woman.

Geonwoo held his mother, confused with what she was talking about. Yuno noticed there was a written note near Taeyong's knees and bent down to pick up, freezing when he recognized the writing.

"Jeong Y/N was found beaten and stabbed multiple times near downtown Seoul—and is currently receiving emergency surgery at TaeHo Memorial Hospital. I'll explain everything once we get to the hospital, ma'am. My partner is there waiting for Y/N to get out of surgery."

Mark who was huddled up near the entrance with the rest of the attendees—wedged between Haechan and Yuta—dropped his drink to the floor, glass shattering on the tiles.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yangyang truly didn't give a fuck. His name was also on the list, along with Xiaojun's and Aeri's, so they should be allowed to go to the hospital too. Aeri was crying in the passenger seat with Xiaojun sitting still in the back, looking like he was in shock. Yangyang pressed on the gas pedal when Geonwoo's Ford truck in front of him was beginning to get farther away from his McLaren.

Right in front of Geonwoo's truck was the detective's car, revolving light shining red and alarm ringing out loud in the night. Mark rode with Geonwoo and Woojin, while Soyeon, Yuno and your dad rode with the detective.

"God, please let Y/N remain among the living. Please, please, please... don't take her away from those who love her so soon..." Yangyang could hear Aeri's incessant prayers, making him slam his hand on the wheel at how heartbreaking it was to hear her pray through choked sobs.

Aeri was never that religious, and him and Xiao didn't even believe in anything at all—but he hoped that Aeri's prayers were heard and granted. In fact, even his heart was praying alongside Aeri.

He really thought they had moved past you now, he really did. At least, he thought he himself did. He remembered feeling nothing but disdain when he saw you at the post mortem meeting a week ago, and he thought that was him forgetting all about you.

But as he prayed in his heart, to a higher power he didn't even personally believe in, he realised he will always care for you no matter what, whether he wanted to or not.

He floored the pedal.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Geonwoo, Woojin and Mark ran to the waiting area, with your friends right behind them too. They came to see your father kneeling in front of a man standing beside Detective Lee, Mr. Jeong's hands pulling on the man's shirt—and they assumed that man was Taeyong's partner, Detective Do Kyungsoo. Geonwoo and Woojin were familiar with his name, albeit a little sparsely, because you had mentioned Detective Do before.

Yuno was bent behind your father, supporting the older man even when he himself was starting to crack, tears streaming down his face.

"How could someone as small as my daughter bleed this much!" Your father wailed, and it made Geonwoo and Woojin stop in their tracks as they fully took in Detective Do.

Kyungsoo had a haunted look across his face as he held your father's hands, and the shirt your father was gripping on was soaked in red. Even the cuffs of his corduroy jacket were bloodstained. Even his hands had dried blood on them. He was so soaked in your blood, they understood exactly what your father was feeling right now.

Pure unadulterated fear.

"Mom..." Geonwoo uttered out, and his mom broke down hearing her son's voice, urging him to go and be with her.

As soon she felt his arms around her, she let out a sob, "She was stabbed twice, it broke through her ribs and punctured her lung. They suspect a concussion too, based on the gash she had at the back of her head."

Yuno began to pull your father up, face suddenly blank of any emotions. It was as if hell froze over for him.

"You never told us who did this to her." Yuno spoke almost emotionlessly—but Mark, who had known him the longest besides your father, could tell he was furious.

Kyungsoo stared at his hands and shirt, feeling like he could never wash your blood off of him. He heard Yuno's question loud and clear, but he was just thinking on where he should start.

Did your fate get sealed the moment Junyoung stepped into the police station and filed a report on how Yoonsu was exploiting you? When Junyoung suddenly disappeared right after he graduated? When Yoonsu managed to slip away as they busted down the doors of his establishment?

Or should he start with the fact that this all happened because him and his old partner was reckless enough to involve a teenage girl in their investigation against ruthless loanshark like Yoonsu?

"Hyung..." Taeyong spoke softly.

Kyungsoo took out your locket from his jacket's front pocket. He felt his heart drop when he noticed you were wearing this locket as you lied on the stretcher inside the ambulance. He recognized the locket—you had worn it before when you were still Yoonsu's prized girlfriend. This was the bugged locket Yoonsu made you wear.

That fucker was sick in the head.

Mark—of all people, Mark—walked up to Kyungsoo and gripped on the collar of his jacket, shaking the detective, frustrated with his lack of words. Everyone else balked at the sight while Woojin moved quickly to try and hold the younger man back, holding on to his shoulder, but Mark shook Woojin's hand off of him.

"Stop staying quiet, you bastard—tell us who did this to her!" Mark raised his voice.

"Mark!" Woojin yelled, and Taeyong was already trying to wedge himself between them too.

"It was Cha Yoonsu. Beat her up good, then he stabbed her twice before he stabbed himself in the throat...can't arrest a dead guy." Kyungsoo uttered out, voice as monotoned as Yuno's before.

Geonwoo and Woojin froze, while the rest of your friends and family were wondering just who the fuck was Cha Yoonsu? Geonwoo let go of his mother, beyond perplexed with Kyungsoo's answer. Didn't you tell them that Yoonsu was already dead more than a week ago?

"Cha Yoonsu? Didn't you make her come down to Gangnam mortuary a week ago to ID his corpse?" Woojin asked what Geonwoo was thinking, and the detective let out a scoff.

"Gosh, back then he even had me fooled. Held Y/N hostage with that blackmail hanging over her head and made her his puppet." Kyungsoo sighed, messing with his hair as he was reminded of how foolish he had been, thinking that the corpse on the mortuary slab was actually Yoonsu.

"What the fuck are you talking about? Who the fuck is Cha Yoonsu? And what do you mean by blackmail!" Yangyang broke out in anger, frustrated that he wasn't understanding a single thing coming out of anyone's mouth at the moment.

"And where's Junyoung? She had plans with him for tonight." Aeri spoke through hiccups, and Xiaojun wrapped an arm around her shoulders to calm her down once the shock wore off.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong felt like the fog was lifted; these people knew jackshit. No wonder they were fooled by Yoonsu's poor rendition of Junyoung—no wonder you left Taeyong that note. This was what you meant by not wanting to keep them in the dark anymore. They had very little idea on what you actually went through back then.

In fact, it was as if they had very little idea on who Jeong Y/N really was before they met her.

"I need all of you to sit first as I explain to you how everything led up to this. Please, take a seat everyone. I'm now well aware just how little you know about Y/N's past." Kyungsoo sighed.

"We know she was forced to work for a loanshark to clear her late stepfather's debt after our mother abandoned her." Yuno spoke out, and Kyungsoo tilted his head at him.

"Then how come some of you don't know who's Cha Yoonsu?" Taeyong asked sincerely.

"Who is Cha Yoonsu?" Yangyang asked again, still clearly frustrated.

Kyungsoo and Taeyong eyed Geonwoo and Woojin, because out of all of them, the ex MMA athletes were the ones that seemed to be aware of who exactly was Cha Yoonsu.

"Cha Yoonsu was the loanshark she was forced to work for. He had her working as a stripper at his illegal establishment, and also coerced her into a romantic relationship with him while she worked under him. This locket was gifted to her with the promise that he would marry her once her debt was settled." Kyungsoo explained thoroughly who Cha Yoonsu was, and what kind of man he had been, holding up the locket they had seen you wear ever since you introduced them to Junyoung.

Geonwoo and Woojin looked at each other—they didn't know that he had made you his girlfriend at one point while you worked for him. This was something you didn't tell them about your past—something you hid from them.

Everyone felt sick to their stomach, going pale at the realization this all happened when you were still a teenager.

Your father felt his knees going weak and practically dropped himself on the chair, while your brother felt bile coming up his throat imagining his teenager younger sister dating an adult man who obviously wanted to take advantage of you.

"What a disgusting bastard." Mark spoke out quietly, but you could still hear the fury in his voice.

"Lee Junyoung was Y/N's senior at Cheongdaebi High in Gangnam, it's where they met. They eventually became close friends. Junyoung was an illegitimate child of the Lee Media Conglomerate, so he had quite a reputation in Gangnam already. He also had a cousin on his stepmother's side who worked in Gangnam's Police Force Organized Crime Unit—that was my old partner, Kim Junmyeon.

When Junyoung found out Y/N was in an abusive relationship, and her boyfriend also turned out to be the loanshark who was exploiting her, he filed a police report to his cousin. We were already investigating Cha Yoonsu and building a case against him—so when we found out Junyoung's little friend was also Yoonsu's girlfriend, we roped her in. Made her our mole in Yoonsu's workforce." Geonwoo and Woojin bristled, finding it so reckless of them for putting you in a dangerous spot.

It was why Yoonsu was so hellbent in getting his revenge on you. Ignoring the way Geonwoo and Woojin were glaring at him, Kyungsoo continued.

"Yoonsu already kept an eye out on Junyoung because he was close to Y/N, but he was livid when he found out the kid filed a police report against him. Right after Junyoung graduated, he disappeared. Many thought he ran away from his family, but Y/N was convinced Yoonsu did something to him, so she filed a missing person's report on Junyoung.

Once we gathered sufficient evidence through Y/N's help, we busted down the doors of his establishment only for him to slip away after he could confirm it was Y/N that had been our informant—it was the botched operation of the decade." The older detective let out a bitter smile, remembering how harshly his captain had slapped him for letting Yoonsu slip away, and for letting you flee Gangnam.

"So the Junyoung Y/N introduced to us..." Xiaojun asked tentatively, horror written all over his face.

"It had been Cha Yoonsu who had cosmetic procedures done on him to look like Lee Junyoung. Y/N was well aware of who he really was, so she wasn't fooled in any way." Taeyong confirmed, making Xiaojun promptly ask the next question—

"Then why didn't she say something—anything to let us know she was in danger?"

Taeyong gulped, while a haze glazed over Kyungsoo's eyes. They remembered the first time they opened the blackmail file Yoonsu had over you. Pictures and videos—countless of it—of a teenager you in skimpy clothing, dancing upon the pole with slimy men surrounding you, and your face clearly showed that you'd rather be anywhere else but there.

"The fucker had a file filled with pictures and videos of her when she worked as his stripper—he blackmailed her with it. He also hacked her phone and made her wear this locket which—" Kyungsoo paused, holding up the locket again and opening it to show them the contents, "—contains a bug that could pick up on everything Y/N says. She was constantly under his surveillance. She was his hostage. Y/N was trapped. If she says one wrong thing, then those pictures will spread across her faculty, then her whole campus, the nation—anyone would know better than to take Yoonsu's threats lightly, even though he is a disgraced boss now."

"As some of you know," Taeyong began to take over, looking over to Geonwoo and Woojin as he stressed on 'some', "we had Y/N come down to Gangnam mortuary to ID a corpse we believed was Yoonsu's, and she did give us a positive ID—however, just three days after, she reached out to Detective Do through an unknown number and begged us to believe her when she said Yoonsu was still alive...and she was currently living with him.

It was a good thing Detective Do went ahead and sent the corpse to another mortuary that confirmed it wasn't actually Yoonsu's—and that's how we began to investigate this 'Lee Junyoung' Y/N was living with, and got to reopen the case against Cha Yoonsu. We got to hack into his phone and wipe out the blackmail file he had over her, and uncovered the text messages he exchanged with Y/N and—" Taeyong crossed his arms, taking a pause in telling the main points to address something that stuck to him ever since he read the text messages between you and Yoonsu.

"—I just want to let you know it was always in Yoonsu's plan for Y/N to isolate herself from you. Y/N never wanted to make you feel like you didn't matter to her, but he was blackmailing her to do so. Detective Do once told me she's people-centric, and Yoonsu was well aware of that. It was just a way for Yoonsu to put her through psychological torture."

Everyone's heart broke and tore itself apart hearing Taeyong say that.

Yuno dropped his head and covered his face with his hands, rubbing it when he was reminded of the argument he had with you before you moved out, how he had ignored you during your last days in the condo, practically treated you like you were an unappreciated houseplant. Now that he knew you never meant the things you said, but he had meant his every single word and action.

Geonwoo and Woojin were reminded of the last time they texted you through 'the crew' groupchat, and how Woojin had told you 'good riddance' when you confirmed you were moving in with 'Junyoung'.

Yangyang remembered how horribly he treated you, openly ignoring you to get his disdain for you across, the way you clearly looked uncomfortable and sad during the post mortem meeting for how they treated you. Aeri looked back and reminisced about the time you called each other 'soulmates', and how easily she got rid of the memories when she chose to ignore you from the day of the concert.

Xiaojun could never forgive himself for treating you like a distant acquaintance as if he hadn't told you his regrets and secrets that you still kept close to your heart despite the fallout. It was worse than just openly ignoring you—whereas Yangyang and Aeri were at least open with their dislike for you, Xiaojun treated you with indifference. As if he wasn't at all affected with you pulling yourself away from them, like he didn't really care for you at all.

Mark felt like puking when he realised the last time he argued with spoke to you, he had called you a coward. Of all the insults he could use that would at least be generic, surface-level and the least hurtful, he called you a coward. You were getting blackmailed, held hostage, and manipulated by a slimy bastard—and he called you a coward. As if you weren't being the bravest you'd ever been as you faced Yoonsu alone with no one else on your side. As if you haven't always been the bravest among them.

When everyone's reminded of their promise to forget you, it felt like their whole chest was caving in. When they tried to imagine just how alone you had been, how hurt you were to see them push you away, it felt like there were bullets getting lodged inside their chest for every time they yelled, berated, and ignored you.

Seeing everyone go quiet at the realization they had played a part in Yoonsu's plan to psychologically break you, both detectives sighed. Yoonsu intended for this kind of damage. Not only you suffered, but the pain also bled through to everyone else around you, to the people who love and care for you.

"It was just hours ago when we wiped out the file from his phone. Once we did it, we told Y/N to leave their apartment so we could get to arrest him, but she didn't listen. She..." Kyungsoo sighed in the middle, opening his phone and showed the text messages he exchanged with you just hours ago, "...she still followed him to where he was taking her because she still wanted to know what he did to Junyoung—where his body was buried. I know for a fact she had never stopped mourning for him...and it's why she felt responsible for his death. Why she decided to put herself in danger anyway, how she ended up getting beaten up and stabbed by Yoonsu—because that's just who she is. Jeong Y/N. So selfless, it's actually selfish."

That was the actualisation of who you really were. Selfishly selfless. They now know of who Jeong Y/N truly is at her core.

Damn you.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Jeong Y/N." The main surgeon spoke out hoarsely—she had been in that surgical suite for more than 6 hours.

It was in the dead of the night, the large digital clock in the waiting area displayed '03:06 A.M.' in blaring red. Kyungsoo and Taeyong stood up while the rest woke up who had dozed off into light slumber. They couldn't really sleep too deeply, when they're still not sure of your fate in that surgical suite.

When a total of 11 people came to her at the sound of your name, she nearly took a step back. This was a lot of people to be waiting for someone to get out of surgery.

"How is she, Doc?" Kyungsoo asked stiffly, feeling his breath slow as he waited for her to answer.

"She pulled through."

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

She's a fighter. One of the stab wounds managed to puncture her right lung, and even broke through her 8th and 9th rib. I managed to fix them up, of course, but with how much blood she was losing, within a rapid rate too, I wasn't all that optimistic that she would even make it—but she did. With the way she held on, she saved herself as much as I saved her.

"God, look at what he did to her face. Oh, my sweet girl—what did he do to you?" Yuno's dad sobbed quietly, caressing his daughter's watercolor blotched cheek, as he wailed over your swollen and split lips, your bandaged nose.

Soyeon sat on the sofa of the VIP room, crying silently as she stared at you. She wished she had done something. She wished she had seen through your attempts in pushing her away. What kind of mother was she? When she couldn't even tell her child was in pain and suffering?

Yuno held your open hand, wishing you were gripping on his back, tears streaming down his face but not making a sound as he cried. It broke his heart—he barely recognized you when he saw you. The bruises on your face were too much. He felt his own face aching just by looking at you. He wanted to beat himself up for ignoring before you moved out. He didn't care for all the hurtful things you said to him anymore, he just wanted to be family again.

He wished he got the chance to beat Cha Yoonsu into a pulp.

May I ask what happened to her abuser? Dead? Good. I know she was found beaten at the crime scene, but the bruises all over her body were new and old. Days and weeks old, even. The most severe one was at her stomach—I had to be careful with cutting her torso open because of how sore it was. He kicked her there pretty good, repeatedly too—but thank god not hard enough it would've done any more damage on her rib cage. However, she still needs to take it easy with any kind of upper body and hip movement during her recovery. The rest of the bruises could go away on their own.

"If that bastard was still alive, I would get my whole soccer team—even the benched kids—to jump him for you. I'm even considering defacing his resting place, because he doesn't deserve to rest peacefully for all that he did to you, Y/N." Yangyang heaved in anger from the opposite side of where Yuno was sitting beside your bed. He blinked away his tears, tasting more bitter and sour than salty—fuck, he was so angry and sad that his tears didn't even taste right.

Aeri was holding on to your other hand, still praying, sounding like a zealot. She had hoped her hand kept yours warm too. If Yoonsu was still alive, she wouldn't be braindead enough to think just beating him half to death could ease her anger. She'd burn him, make him a furnace to keep you warm. She'd do anything to him just for you.

Xiaojun was sitting on a chair beside Yangyang, keeping your hair neat. More often than not, you had always complained that even though you loved how long hair looks on you, you sometimes hated how it would feel. Of course, now that you're still sleeping, he'd keep it neat for you. It was the least he could do for you—because it's not like he had the chance to kill Yoonsu for you. The bastard did the honors himself, it seemed.

She's getting wheeled to the VIP room right now. Heard that someone among you has connections to the one who funds this hospital—and good for her, then. After all that kid has been through, I'm glad she gets to rest in a comfortable room, with plenty of space for all of you to fit—just, don't huddle too closely over her, okay? I know you're all worried for her, but she just got out of surgery, so there's still risks of infection and whatnot.

Geonwoo and Woojin were just right outside, talking with a man decked out in an obviously very expensive casual clothing set. The man seemed fond of the ex MMA athletes, even calling them his younger brothers, and it wasn't at all surprising to see him so fond of them considering he drove to the hospital at 3 a.m. in the morning to see them. The man was Hong Minbeom, and he was the one who pulled the strings to get you the VIP room. He's the one behind the hospital's funding.

"Thanks again, Hyung." Geonwoo sighed, looking at the door.

Minbeom beamed at the both of them.

"It's no biggie, kiddos. Just tell her I wish her a speedy recovery."

Minbeom had met you before. When they held a gala to officiate Taeho Memorial Hospital's opening, Geonwoo brought Taeho's granddaughter as his plus one, and Woojin had brought you as their plus one. The chaebol found you to be a cute kid, a good fit with his two younger brothers. He didn't mind doing a favour for you, considering you were also a victim of a bastard loanshark like he had been a victim of Kim Myeonggil.

Here's the bad news though. Clearly, something very hard hit her head, and then she got stabbed not long after—head injury with rapid blood loss is a bad combo. It's why I consider her a miracle. Because of the head injury, there's no telling when she would wake up. Could be days, weeks or months. All I can say right now is just to stay optimistic. If she pulled through during the surgery, then she can also hold on strong enough for this.

Mark stood behind Yuno, heart tearing itself apart as he wondered when you would wake up. It's hard to look at your face while it's marred with heavy bruises and scratches, but it's gut wrenching to do nothing but watch as you stayed asleep, your eyes closed, your mouth in a thin line. He was praying just as incessantly as Aeri was, but not as loud.

Only God knew just how hard his heart was praying for you to wake up—because he wanted those eyes to open and look at him as he begged for your forgiveness, as he promised to stick by your side no matter what after this. All you had to do was wake up.

prev | masterlist | next

A/N : my fingers are now officially broken!!!!

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

• taglist • [CLOSED]

@spiderm444rk @morkiee @xiuriii @solvrse @neozon3nha @herebyaccident0 @injunnie-lemon @mystverse @dearmonamour @v-6893 @sehunniepot @bee-the-loser @gomdoleemyson @luluvhs @sunghoonsgfreal @docilismo @neocrashed @soobinbunnie5 @cigarettesafterjae @dudekiss3r @kittydollzz @urlocalbeaner5 @polarisjisung @conwunder @wonupuppy @jae-n0 @413ktz @kimsaerom @meowtella @aerivrs @swanyvess @morkleesgirl @sthwaaberry @nominzn @grassbutneo @spicyryujin @koizekomi @sunflowerhae @markeroolee

[soaked4mk]

Wade Wilson Boyfriend HeadCanons

👽:slowly but surely getting back into my writing 💅🏼 (not proof read just super horny like a clown 🤡 HONKAH HONKAH)

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

SFW ♥️

★ Wade is a silly guy. So silly in fact, he’ll crack jokes or shoot a sarcastic comment your way—mid argument. “How am I supposed to listen when you look this good right now?” Fear not! Because he knows when to shut up. (When you tell him to)

★ Bro defo has a Roblox account. Not elaborating.

★ Despite his chaotic and reckless behavior, Wade is actually super protective and would go to extreme lengths to keep you safe. And then some. “Hey! Back off! Don’t you fuck with her! Unless you wanna fuck with me too. In that case we’ll need a sit down discussion for—“ “WADE!” “Right—sorry.”

★ Expect big, wild romantic gestures. Like standing outside your window while holding up a boom box. (playing ‘what you won’t do for love’ by Bobby Caldwell) or (attempting at) writing your name with fireworks. (There were definitely ‘unexpected’ explosions)

★ “I know it’s only Tuesday, but I totally, legally rented a helicopter so we can pretend we’re in the aveng—no? Okay…plan B then: Breakfast in bed with (penis) questionable pancakes.”

★ Cuddle bug Wade. Are we surprised? This man lives off of physical touch and affection. Wrapping you up in his arms, not letting you go with a shit eating grin. “Nope, you’re not leaving this couch. We’re practicing the ancient art of Wade Wrapping, which requires at least three hours of cuddles, just sayin.”

★ He is nonstop teasing you. It’s a hobby for him, really. (And his love language) Coming up with silly nicknames for you, challenging you to random games or chores, he’s not below making fun of himself to see you smile either.

★ “Oh-ho? You think you can wipe the track with me in Mario kart? That’s cute.” “Honey—you look fine. Approachable even. Unlike me…” (he says while laying limbless on the bed. Literally….)

★ Uses his dark humor to comfort you in times of ‘what the actual fuck?’ Knowing how to turn even the bleakest of moments into something a little lighter. “Hey, I know life might suck granny tits right now…but at least we’re not in a rom-com where one of us has to die or something worse for the other to grow emotionally, right?”

★ Unwaveringly supportive of you in any conflict. He is going to take your side. Every. Single. Time. Backing you up even if he has literally no idea what’s going on or why. “You said Rick was out of line at work today? Well guess who’s getting a strongly worded letter in the form of interpretive dance in the parking lot?” “Is it Ri—“ “it’s Rick.”

★ Wade loves experimenting in the kitchen with you! Attempting to make meals that sometimes end up in hilarious disasters, followed up by a take out order.

★ He breaks this…’fourth wall’ sometimes. Like looking off into the distance and talking to an invisible audience or camera while addressing you. This dead ass bewilders you at times. But mostly you roll your eyes at his antics.

★ “Can you believe this shit?” He’ll ask, turning to an imaginary audience. “I’m over here being the perfect boyfriend—funny, handsome, protective, all that—and you guys still think Peter Parker is the ‘Ideal Boyfriend’ pffft. Get real.” *turns back to you* “anyway, where were we?”

★ This overgrown man child is a PDA enthusiast. Unashamed of hugging, kissing, or trying to dip you during a playful dance in public. He doesn’t care, he’s proud to be with you and wants everyone to know it. “You know what this sidewalk needs? A spontaneous make out session”

★ One hundred percent would insist on wearing matching or theme outfits. Whether it’s full on costumes or something little like matching socks. “Ta-Da! Matching Taco Cat shirts—no, no. Don’t fight it. This is how we show the world we’re a team. Through peak fashion choices.”

★ Loves movie nights. They’re full of commentary, with your boyfriend narrating or making fun of the movie plots. He’d insist on watching rom-coms or action movies for sure.

★ You’ll receive unconventional love letters in the form of doodles, short jokes, or notes saying “I love you more than The Golden Girls. And that’s saying something. ;)”

★ Wade is a pretty chill dude. He’s not overboard with jealousy. But that won’t stop the man from making his classic (not so jokey) jokes when he feels like someone might be getting too close to you. “Oh, flirting? With you? Cute. Should I go over there and casually mention that I’m the love of your life and also really good with sharp objects?”

★ Beneath all the jokes and chaos, he has moments of genuine, heartfelt affection. Whispering his love and gratitude for you at unexpected times. “I know I never take shit for real. But I’m serious about you, about us. You’re my safe space, the one part of my life that makes sense on this stupid chunk of rock floating in space.”

★ Remembers odd little details about you. Showing it with unexpected gifts that align perfectly with your interests. (Even if they’re a bit off beat.) “I saw this super limited edition action figure of (favorite character). I had to get it for you—don’t ask me how, just say thank you and let’s run—“

★ Randomly belting out terrible renditions of love songs at the top of his lungs, just to get a laugh from you.

★ Acts tough for your amusement, like he’ll pretend to be all macho around your friends to make you laugh. “Yeah babe, I’m like, indestructible. Just gotta…” *struggles to open a jar of pickles* “wait—hold on. This jar is definitely cheating…”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

NSFW 🍆💦

★ Wade love love LOVESSS making you watch while playing with your pussy. Using his mouth, fingers and all kinds of cute little toys.

★ Tying your hands together, behind your back and sitting you in front of the mirror with your legs spread wide as he slowly circles your clit with a bullet vibrator, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “You see how fucking wet you are for me, baby?” “Look. At. This~” “did I say to look away? Didn’t think so…”

★ He’s into all kinds of crazy shit—high key an exhibitionist.

★ Fucking you in a theatre bathroom, pressing you up against the stall while he covers your mouth, dipping the head of his cock teasingly into your aching cunt.

★ “I don’t give one shit if someone hears us, I need you. Now.” “Shhh baby, gotta stay quiet if you wanna cum.” “Stay still now…”

★ Eating you out in the back of the car, hands kneading your plush thighs while looking up at you with that knowing, shit-eating grin. Not even bothering to wipe you from his chin.

★ Struggling to keep your eyes on the man, a red flush taking over your face as the vibrations of his groans send shocks of pleasure through your entire body.

★ Fingering you under the table/using a remote control vibrator on you when you’re out having dinner. “Yeah that’s it for me and uh, what about you babe?” He asks nonchalantly, as if he weren’t bumping the bullet to its highest intensity or running his fingers over your panty clad pussy. All the tasty stuff. It’s the thrill of almost being caught for him.

★ Baby girl also LOVES when you take control. Straddling him, tying him up to the bed, slapping his face. He’s fucking into it.

★ F-fuckk~ wan—wanna touch you so bad~” he whimpers, hips bucking involuntarily while you ride him, bouncing in his lap with your hands on his shoulders and his cuffed. “Mmff—need to cum…please, please—I’ll do whatever you wa—aaah, fffuck!”

★ Wade loves to buy you new toys/lingerie sets all the time! He’ll come through the door with a bag full of new things to try out or on. “Oh, come on—put the bunny ears on…I’ll let you do that one thing you like.”

★ Costumes, dressing up, role play. Cops and robbers, Professor and student, Master and pet. He loves that shit and has a lot of fun with it.

★ “You have the right to remain silent, on your knees, now.” He’ll smirk, cuffing your hands behind your back, trailing a finger down your cheek before fucking your face. “Cock hungry bitch, aren’t ya? Such a good girl…” he croons, pulling at your leash.

★ “You call that begging, honey? Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but you’re gonna have to be louder than that if you want me to fuck you silly.” He teases, sending a sharp smack to your ass while prodding at your slick pussy with his shaft, making you arch and whine out for him.

★ If you’re into it, he has no issue with knife/gun play. “How does it feel…?” he purrs into your ear, slowly sliding the cold metal up your stomach, circling your belly button before trailing up your chest, then collarbone, pressing the blade/barrel to your throat/temple. “Scary? Hot? Scary-Hot?”

★ Loves making you squirt, finger fucking you into oblivion, thumb pressed against your clit until you can’t take anymore. “Fuck yeah, baby.” He pants, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and cleaning them with a simple ‘pop’.

★ “Mhhh…” Wade hums in delight before shoving the same fingers into your mouth—pushing past your teeth, forcing you to taste yourself with a groan “You’re so yummy, don’t you think?”

★ If you’re being a brat, expect proper punishment. “Oooh, talking back to me, huh?” He’ll ask, gripping your face with one hand, forcing you to keep eye contact. “Watch that damn mouth of yours, pretty bitch. And keep riding me—I didn’t say stop.”

★ He’ll make you grind your hips until you’re sore. It’s so fucking good it hurts. “Awww, my poor baby…look at you crying and riding. You must be exhausted, hmm?” Wade grunts, bouncing you on top his lap as if you were a rag doll. His cock slamming into you, hitting that sweet spot—never missing a beat. “Keep going—be a good girl and keep going…”

★ Once you’re both a spent, panting, boneless mess beside each other, he’ll shower you with praise and pepper your face with kisses, combing your unkempt hair with his fingers as he caresses your arm.

★ Wade would set up a diy spa in the bathroom for you. Complete with cucumber slices, a glass of wine (or whatever you want) and a bath that’s wayyy too bubbly. He’d try and give you a foot massage while joking “Only the royal treatment for my queen. Minus the actual royalty…those guys were more fucked up than half of Alabama…”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

👽:I wanna be SAVED Deadpool PLEASEEEE SLUT ME OUTTTT

[whump-imagines]

Stomach Flu

Buddie x reader

Wc: 1700 ish

You laid in bed trying desperately to fall asleep. Some kind of stomach flu had found you and was clearly trying to kill you. All night you’d been fighting blankets because you'd be hot and then freezing and then hot again. And when you'd thought maybe you'd gotten comfortable the nausea would hit.

The toilet was your new best friend. You’d spent a decent amount of time clinging to the bowl for dear life. It was worse than any bad night of drinking you had ever had.

So now you were momentarily a comfortable temperature and not as nauseous so you didn't dare move as you begged for sleep to come.

Next thing you know the bed is jostled aggressively as Buck jumps onto the mattress and asks, “You're still in bed?”

The sudden movement sends a jolt of pain through your skull and nearly causes you to puke. You launch yourself out of bed and into the bathroom. Falling to your knees, you empty the non-existent contents of your stomach.

Eddie is knelt beside you a moment later. He takes your hair in one hand and rubs your back with the other.

“Ugh. My best friend, we meet again,” you mumble into the toilet bowl.

“Again?” Eddie asks. “What do you mean again?”

Rolling your forehead across the arm supporting your head, you glance at him and notice Buck in the doorway. “Well this is like the thousandth time I've been here since yesterday. I think I'm dying.”

Eddie runs his hand over your head then presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “Baby, why didn't you call us?”

“You were working. I didn't think I needed help puking my guts out.”

“One of us could have come home,” Buck says. “Or we could have brought supplies home.”

“Supplies?”

“Soup, Tylenol, tissues, maybe…” Buck listed.

“I'd just puke it back up. Everything in comes right back out.”

“Alright, are you done for now? Do you want head back to bed?” Eddie asks.

“Moving makes me more nauseous. And my head hurts.”

“Have you had any water?” Eddie asks.

“Tried. Failed.” You lean back and the world spins. “This sucks.”

Eddie shifts you so you can relax back into him. “I bet. We're going to get you back into bed and get a bucket so you don't have to come lay on the floor in here anymore. Okay?”

“‘Kay.” You snuggle into him, enjoying his warmth.

Eddie manages to get up and lift you without too much jostling. “Can you go lay on the bed and I'll give her to you?” He asks Buck.

“Okay.” You hear the jingle of Buck’s belt and then the clank of it hitting the floor. Next, your set gently on the bed cuddled close to Buck, his arm your pillow.

“You're warm,” you announce and you press yourself even closer and move your head into his chest.

“I'll be back soon,” Eddie says. “Try to get some sleep if you can.”

You whine, not wanting him to leave. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the station. We need an IV kit, fluids, zofran, and probably Tylenol.”

“I don't want an IV.”

“Sweetheart, you're very dehydrated,” Eddie explains. “If you can't keep down water then you need the IV.”

You sigh. “Fine.”

Buck chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

Eddie leans over and kisses your head then a quick parting kiss to Buck’s lips. “Love you guys. I'll be quick.”

“We love you, too.” Buck says.

A minute later you hear Eddie’s keys jingle and then the front door open and close.

“Sorry I woke you like that earlier.”

You snort a laugh. “Not your fault, you didn't know.”

He runs his fingers up and down your side and shoulder in random patterns. “Try to sleep,” he suggests.

“Can you tell me a story?” you ask.

“What kind of story?”

“I don't care. It's just soothing to hear you talk,” you tell him. “Might help me sleep.”

He starts to tell you all about flamingos because he knows how much you love them. He explains everything from how they get their color to their migration patterns and before long you feel yourself sinking into a peaceful sleep.

You wake to the sounds of Buck and Eddie laughing. You can tell they’re trying to be quiet but the giggles are shaking you and the whole bed. “What's so funny?”

“Crap. Sorry, we didn't mean to wake you,” Buck says.

“It's fine. I need to pee anyway.” You shift to roll onto your back but end up leaned against Eddie. “You didn't tell me what was funny.”

“Just a dumb video on TikTok,” Eddie explains. “How're you feeling?”

You take a moment to consider your answer. Your head still hurts but not as much. You still have nausea but it's much more bearable. “Shitty, but kind of better.”

Buck rolls and then stands before offering you a hand. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” You reach over to take his hand, noticing the IV line for the first time. “I slept through that?”

“Bathroom,” Buck answers.

“Exhaustion will do that,” Eddie answers your second question.

Buck helps you up and your muscles protest the change in position. He wraps an arm around your waist as you sway slightly.

You take a deep breath and blow it out. “I'm good. Let's go.”

Eddie stands and grabs the bag of fluids you hadn't noticed hanging on a command hook on the wall.

All three of you head to the bathroom together and as you sit you look around. “I like this view of the bathroom much better than the other.”

“I prefer this, too,” Eddie says. “Especially the knowing you're not as dehydrated.”

“Yeah, you already look so much better than this morning,” Buck adds.

You slowly make your way back to the bed and as you're making yourself comfortable you catch a glimpse of the clock. “Holy crap! How is it almost 11?”

They both just chuckle. “That's what happens when you sleep for three hours,” Eddie explains.

“I think that's more sleep than I got total all night. Guess I needed a better pillow,” you laugh as you look at Buck.

“You could have had that all night if you'd called us. I'm going to go make you some soup,” Buck announces as he leaves the room.

“I'm not hungry.”

Eddie sits down beside you. “You have to try a few bites at least, okay?”

You pout at him. “I don't want to puke anymore.”

“You shouldn't. I gave you some zofran,” he tries to sooth you.

“Fine.” You roll your eyes “But you better have that bucket close by.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “It's on the floor right here, but you're not going to need it.”

“You're awfully optimistic given that I'm still nauseous.”

“You said you felt better,” he chastises. “Is it still as bad?”

Leaning back into him, you explain, “I said I feel shitty. Shitty is better than feeling like death. I'm less nauseous, but still nauseous.”

“I'm sorry you feel shitty,” he intertwines his fingers with yours and lifts it to kiss your knuckles. “The soup should help you feel less shitty. Hopefully you're just nauseous because you have nothing in your system. So just try a few bites, okay?”

Buck returns with a tray in his hands. “I have soup, the old fashioned chicken noodle just like you like. I also have saltine crackers, oyster crackers, sprite, and water.” He sets the tray in front of you and then leans in to kiss you.

You pull away quickly. “Don't kiss me. You'll catch this plague.”

“I'll risk it.”

You lift the spoon and drink a spoonful of the broth and then you pause, waiting for the nausea to get worse. When it doesn't, you continue slowly with more broth and then eventually the noodles and a couple crackers.

Eventually you manage to eat almost half the soup and a few sips of water before you set the spoon down. “I'm done. I can't handle any more right now.”

“That's fine. You ate way more than I expected,” Eddie says.

Buck takes the water and sprite off the tray and sets them on the bedside table before taking the rest away.

“Can I have my hand back yet?” You lift the hand with the IV line and give him your best pouty face.

He shakes his head. “No. I will unhook the fluids when that bag is gone but I want to keep the IV lock for now until we're sure you're going to keep all that down.”

You roll your eyes. “Fiiiiine.”

He laughs. “Do you want me to have to poke you again if you do puke more?”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No.”

“Thought so.” He boops your nose. “Glad to see you're feeling better.”

Buck returns and snuggles in beside you on the bed. “You want to pick a movie to nap through?”

You smiled and they both groaned. “Sleeping Beauty! Oh, wait, Enchanted… no, I actually want to be awake for that. Sleeping Beauty for sure.”

“Why do you make us watch princess movies when you know you're only going to watch ten minutes?” Buck complained.

“Because it's fun.” You shrugged. “Plus, then I get to dream I'm a princess.”

Buck raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying that if we switch to football as soon as you're asleep you're going to dream about that?”

“Probably.”

“Sleeping Beauty on one condition…” Eddie started.

“What?” you asked.

“Next time you get sick while we're at work, you call us immediately.”

“No,” you argued. “Because there won't be a next time. This is awful. I don't want a repeat.”

“Fine. If! If by some small chance it happens or if you just get the sniffles… you call.”

“Deal.”

Eddie gets the movie set up and you make yourself comfortable. This time you use Eddie as a body pillow and Buck drapes his arm over your waist.

The movie starts and you almost instantly feel yourself drifting. “Love you guys.” You mumble as you close your eyes.

They chorus an “I love you too,” as you fall into a dreamless slumber.

[holylulusworld]

Election Time (2)

Summary: You thought he was your forever.

Pairing: Senator!Tony Stark x Wife!Reader, Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, language, wish for a child, betrayal, failed marriage, soft Bucky, pining

Election Time (1)

Election Time masterlist

Bucky’s apartment is far away from your home—or now former home. It looks like he leads a spartan life, with very few comforts and luxuries.

Still, it looks inviting and comfortable to you. There’s almost no decoration but a framed picture of you and him on the artificial fireplace, the “best bodyguard in the universe” trophy, and a plushie you won for him at a fair in his first year of duty.

“I remember that day,” he chuckles. “You didn’t want Tony or me to win a prize for you. He was shocked seeing you rock that water gun.”

“I didn’t think you’d keep it,” you say, and carefully touch the plushie sitting next to the picture frame. You still got the trophy too.”

“It was a gift from you.” Bucky shrugs. “’Cause I kept it. Why would I throw it away?” He stands next to you, dipping his head to watch you play with the diamond ring on your finger. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I—” you fail to answer him. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say. For the longest time, I felt like I was alone in this marriage. Tony was long gone; I just didn’t want to admit he didn’t want to be with me any longer.”

Bucky runs his hand up and down your back, careful to not touch your shoulder. He offers comfort without saying a word.

“What hurts is the fact that he stayed married to me for his career. Bucky conspired with my doctor to make sure I cannot get pregnant.” You sniffle. “I feel so violated. That’s… bodily harm. They robbed me of my baby…”

“Y/N,” he murmurs your name. “Please don’t be mad at me, but—” Bucky bites his tongue. He’s unsure about the question swirling in his mind. “What if you got pregnant and heard all this? Would you still want to have a baby with a man like him?”

You drop your gaze and choke out a sob. No. Tony would make an awful father. All he cares about are his reputation and career. He gives a shit on you, and it would’ve been the same with a child. Maybe the baby would’ve been useful in public, but nothing else.

“No.”

“Let’s not do this right now.” Bucky gives you a cracked smile. “You need a rest, and I need to inform Steve that we didn’t get kidnapped or worse.”

“He will tell Tony.” You grasp for Bucky’s hand. “Please don’t tell him. I can’t face him yet. I don’t want to either. If I had a choice, I’d run to the end of the world and never see him again.”

“Steve won’t tell your husband shit. I’m going to explain the situation.” Bucky softly replies. “I swear, not a single word will leave his lips.”

“What if he’s loyal to Tony, not me or you?” You sniffle. “What will happen?”

Bucky gently takes your hands in his. “Y/N, do you trust me?” He asks.

You look Bucky in the eyes and nod. “I trust you with my life, Bucky.” He holds your gaze and squeezes your hands. “Only you.”

“Good,” he whispers your name and hums. “I trust Steve with my life too. If I tell him to not say a word, he’ll do it without asking questions. All he needs to know is that you’re safe with me.”

“Can I stay the night? I need to think about a few things before facing my husband.” You wipe your wet eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Bucky murmurs when you start to cry again. He wraps you in his arms and allows himself for the first time to hold you for a different reason than protecting you. “You can stay as long as you want to. My place is not as nice as your home, but it’s safe, and I got plums.”

You choke out a laugh. “If you got plumps, everything is good. Without them, we wouldn’t have made it.”

Bucky reluctantly lets go of you. He nods at you before saying, “I’ll call Steve now. You should get settled in. I changed the sheets, and there’s a clean flannel and sweatpants on the bed. If you want to stay here for longer, I’ll ask Steve to sneak some of your clothes out of your house.”

“Steve, we got a problem,” Bucky inhales deeply before he tells his best friend since childhood what happened this afternoon. “She cannot go home at the moment. We need to cover her tracks and come up with an excuse.”

Steve immediately reminds Bucky of his duty. He won’t rat you and his friend out, but the head of security can’t do much to cover your disappearance. People will start asking questions soon—especially your husband.

“You are telling me no one knows about my wife’s whereabouts?” Tony yells at the head of security. Steve doesn’t even bat an eyelash. He keeps a straight face, even though he knows exactly what happened this afternoon.

“Sir, the last we know was that you left her behind after the interview. Most of the security followed you, not your wife. Your orders.” Steve crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Tony. “Maybe she wanted to visit a friend, or the car broke down. It looks like her phone died. A dead battery is no reason to call the police.”

“The cops?” Tony snorts. “You think I want to call the cops only because my wife decided to skip the event? What do you think will happen if I report my wife missing? I can forget about the election!”

“I’m happy to hear that you’re worried about your wife,” Steve coolly replies. “I’ll call Barnes, ask him if he knows something. You should get some rest, Senator. I’ve got this.”

Tony watches the head of security walk out of his office. He squares his jaw. It’s the first time you didn’t accompany him. Something must be wrong, and he fears it could cost him the election.

“Steve got this,” Bucky softly says as if speaking to a scared animal. “He will keep the bloodhounds off our backs for a while. This gives you a little time to think about your next steps.”

You give him a sad smile. While Bucky was talking to Steve and went out for a late-night shopping trip, you already made up your mind. You must face Tony and confront him sooner rather than later.

You just don’t know when you’ll find the strength to look your husband in the eyes and tell him that you know…everything.

“Doll, you got to eat something,” Bucky says. He points at the plate he placed on the coffee table. “I know this is a lot to stomach.”

You look at the plate, smiling because Bucky made you smiley pancakes and cut a plum for you. “You cut a plum for me.”

“Uh—sure.” Bucky looks at the food he made for you. He knows about your habit of eating pancakes whenever you are sad. “I removed the stone and thought it’s better to cut it for you too. You know, because it looks better on the plate.”

“You’re a good cook.” You grin at Bucky. “Thank you. For everything.”

“At your service, doll…” He winks at you. “That’s my job…”

Tags in reblog.

[nalyra-dreaming]

I keep thinking of the line 'to crush what you cannot own' and how it describes Armand's actions too - if he really did mean for Louis to die in Paris, which seems likely atp. Sacrificing Louis would punish Lestat and stabilize the coven ofc, but do you think it was also Armand ending the relationship on his own terms, once he'd realized Louis couldn't be controlled or 'owned'? Bc killing him was preferable to being abandoned? I know many think it was Loustat's love Madeleine felt in 2.06 (& it probably was!) but IMHO it wouldn't change much even if it was about Loumand. However much Louis theoretically loved Armand, he'd always love Lestat & Claudia more. Armand could never own him completely or be 100% assured of his loyalty & that was the issue. I keep seeing fans ask things like 'why did Armand do X if he loved Louis?' or 'why would they stay together if they weren't in love?' and tbh…I think some got too sucked in by Armand's 'beige pillow' persona lol. Because it's a fully calculated performance designed to disarm & control - there's a grain of truth to it, but it's still v strategic. IMHO 2.05 did a good job of peeling back the romantic facade, and the finale twist further compounded the truth, but maybe I'm off base there. Do you have any thoughts on this? (sorry if you've discussed this before, I can't keep track of the asks you get lol!)

(I don't blame you lol, it's a LOT of asks by now^^)

No, I have not talked about that aspect of it all :).

Sooooo, that "crushed" statement is rather interesting, but let me get to Armand first.

I think wrt Armand betraying Louis and Claudia there (and the show did frame it as the big betrayal, the Judas' Kiss), it has a lot to do with Armand being beyond bitter about Louis not loving him ... as he loved him.

Armand literally says that, in 2x05. Spells it out, when he talks about Claudia's love for Louis - and that it was not the same (level) as Lestat's - or his - love for Louis.

Interesting there is the tense, because it is past tense. "Loved".

I do think, (and that I said before^^), that Armand loved Louis, fell for Louis, in Paris.

Unfortunately though, Louis did not love him back the same way, and thus the betrayal happened (very simplified, but still) - and (Lestat's behavior and) Lestat saving Louis at the trial... changed the game again. Louis became something else to Armand, namely leverage, and a vessel. Something he could own and form, built on history with both Louis and Lestat.

Now the "crushed line".

THAT is a really interesting one. Because "crush" is used thrice in the show. First, when Daniel is served a dish in s1, imho rather unimportantly.

Second, when Santiago describes Louis' kill (the Dreamstat-kiss-kill) in the park:

"A mutilated body found in a park three nights ago. Crushed skull, puncture wounds on neck, chest and shoulder blade."

And third, when Lestat talks about what he did to Louis with the drop.

"I couldn't... persuade... him to return my affections. I couldn't force him to love me and so... I broke him. What is worse than that? Crushing what you cannot own?"

Now.... I always felt this monologue was a bit off, not because Lestat owns up there, or because of the words, but... "forcing Louis to love him"? I don't think it was about that between them. Given we know Armand influenced the tale, this... is one of those things that will be interesting to see IF they were influenced, but that just as a note, because yes - it describes Armand's actions, too. Sam said he left hints and crumbs, and maybe that is one, too.

The word "crush" connects Louis' desire and need for Lestat with Lestat's need and desire for Louis.

It is "crushing" for them both, a strength of emotion that almost cripples them, and makes them behave violently. This is no excuse(!) for any in-story actions, but the writers on this show are playwrights and you can be sure that they know what they're doing :))

There is a quote in the later books, which encapsulates this love for Louis (from that side at least) quite well:

"It was the love of Louis which had at times crippled Lestat, and enslaved Armand. Louis need have no consciousness of his own beauty, of his own obvious and natural charm."

I agree that Armand's beige pillow persona is parts a facade... but then again not, because Armand... is not the hurricane that is Lestat. Armand is old, and jaded, and disciplined. He lives by a strong ruleset, and that little "metronomic, my Rashid" that Louis throws at him in 1x05 makes its comeback in 2x05 when when he spells it out that he finds it boring that everything is so predictable.

Book canonically it is Daniel who changes Armand a bit (at least), who makes him break some rules and principles. And... given what we've seen so far? I think that will stay just the same. Or has already happened in parts^^.

[rotting-ink]

L Rawlins: The Cruelty of Peers

note. Hey! This was early access up on my patreon for a while and now with me writing the next sfw story for Starling Knight, it's free on there and now here!

Winters were wetter here. L remembers harsh, bold winters, crisp winters, with thick blankets of snow that covered everything, dark days and darker nights. After the longest boat ride of their life (of which they swore that they’ll never step foot on a boat again), winters were… Not that. 

The snow was weaker, the type to turn to slosh on the ground. Made it worse to walk in, the water soaking through everyone’s shoes, people slipped easily. It is what made L feel the most homesick. Not the fact that no one but their little sibling and their parents shared their accent. That they ate different (a hot breakfast was just weird to them, compared to dark bread and cold cuts), they dressed differently, their peers were different. 

L withstood their mother absent mindedly combing through their hair, yanking harder on knots that was necessary, but they didn’t want to point it out. She’d just frown at them and throw her hands up in the air; “nothing is ever good enough for you when it comes to me, is it?” No, they endured until their mother drifted to E, kissing their head and beginning to fuss over their unruly curls. 

That was their cue to make themself scarce. They knew that their mother did love them, she had loved them before E had been born, but she only had so much energy. Or she knew that L’s father only had time for the eldest from that moment on. Or maybe E was more charming and outgoing than the sullen, quiet older child who hated fuss. 

L pulled on their big coat, one of the few reminders from Saxony that their father allowed them to keep, and made their way downstairs, the drafty boarding house already freezing. Father didn’t want to use any more coal than necessary, apparently not wanting to look bad to the local pack he was working to integrate his family into. L couldn’t see why he couldn’t do that and keep his family from freezing at the same time, but whenever they asked he waved them off and told them to stop asking stupid questions, they were becoming worse than their mother.

There wasn’t a lot to do, so they just slipped through the backdoor and sat on the stoop, wrinkling their slowly reddening nose at the immense amount of sludge that had built up overnight. Looked worse than the food the landlady made for breakfast. E had once complained loudly that she was trying to poison them, but she didn’t understand a word of German and just cooed at their little scowling face and pinched their chubby cheek. 

So far, South Hollow was not shaping up to how L would have imagined it, before the boat, before the packing, before the Night of Shouting as they covered E’s ears so they wouldn’t wake up and cry. The children were unruly, shouting cuss words back at their parents, they were noisy, they were rude, and L had no idea how they got away with it without getting the back of their thighs caned. It was a quiet fear that if they didn’t move soon, E would turn out just like them, rambunctious and rude and blasé about everything. 

Turning their head slightly at the sound of little feet ambling towards them, E appeared, curls already escaping the meticulous styling enforced by their mother and flung their arms around L’s shoulders, smushing their cheek against their neck. 

“Können wir jetzt spielen?” E whined, tugging at L’s own straight hair. 

“Englisch.” L reminded them. 

“Play now!” E tried again, voice rising into a shout. 

L winced and sighed, worried that if they didn’t give into their demands, their father would stomp downstairs and shout at them for being Devil-Children for making so much noise on a Sunday. So, with a private curse (“Schimpfwort! Schimpfwort!” E chanted), L picked up their younger sibling, who was steadily getting too heavy for it, and made their way down the pebble path, picking their way past the melting brown ice. 

Back in Saxony, they had three dogs, which made it easy to entertain the smaller children of the pack. A horse too. Many books. Now, they had to make do in any way they can. L usually just told E to find chestnuts to roast later, or try and spot anyone who could be a Witch. E loved both activities, splitting their time between shoving the nuts into their pockets and trying to peer at people’s faces and then shouting and running back to L, “Sie werden uns fressen! Schnell, schnell!”. It usually made strangers stare at them but E would be entertained for hours and L couldn’t care what these people would think, especially if they wanted to cut their fun short. 

L usually kept an eye on them, but would slide a scruffy book out of one of their pockets to bury their nose in, or would explore a bit, trying to familiarize themself with the numerous streets that all looked the same to them. Except- 

“Oi!” 

The shout startled them, looking up from where E was digging in the dirt, getting their clothes dirty. 

“Yeah, you!” A scruffy child was staring at them, behind them, a whole pack of similarly bedraggled children, all looking cold and a bit ratty. 

There were two blondes with them, hair so light it seemed see through, a redhead and a brown haired child, the one that yelled at them. All except the one with blood red locks was staring at L like a particularly interesting bug they found under a slab of stone. The other child ignored them, mouth in a perpetual pout and with bruises on their throat, unsuccessfully hidden by a scarf too big. 

“You the Teutons that moved in?” The same scruffy child shouted across the street. 

L quietly observed him. Ugly. They shouldn’t have thought it, it was rude, but there was no other word for him. 

“Yes.” They finally said with a sigh. 

The children stared more at them, then looked at each other, then back at L. 

“Hey, wanna do something fun?” One of the blond children shouted over, apparently having no control over the volume of their own voice. The redhead elbowed them sharply and motioned to one of the windows above them. 

“... Sure.” L was wary but a spark of hope ignited in their stomach. With another glance at E (“Kastanien für mich, Kastanien für dich, Kastanien für das Haus, Kastanien für die Maus-”), L headed over, careful to avoid slipping. They followed the other children, all slowly sloshing a bit further down the road, L falling into walking next to the red head. They had nicer shoes than the others, preferring to walk nearer to the stoops of the houses, only sometimes grabbing L for balance. 

“I like your accent.” They suddenly said, rubbing under their eye, L noticing for the first time that they had a beauty mark. 

“... Thank you.” They eventually replied. They didn’t fully believe them. 

“Makes you sound smart. Not like Walter. He sounds like a fucking idiot every time he talks.” L cringed at the swear word, their ears going pink. The red head didn’t notice, slipping a bit on a stone and kicking it into the street out of revenge. “I think it’s because his parents are cousins.” 

“What did you say?” Scruff shouted back at the two, lagging behind the rest of the group. 

“That your Pa fucked a goat and it shat you out!” Red yelled back, shooting L a grin that they were too startled to return. 

Their hands itched. These children were so loud and… Rude. 

“Better than your Ma shagging half the town!” 

L didn’t even notice the stone smacking Scruff in the nose, from how fast Red had moved. Then they disappeared, marching off, down the street, nose in the air. Almost regal, if not for the rags they wore. Still, L quietly wondered what Red’s mother had done with half the town, since they had no idea. 

Scruff yelled another word L had no idea how to even decipher before continuing his stomping. They couldn’t see Red’s long scarf flapping in the wind anymore, and decided to keep going, until they all reached a towering tree in the middle of the road. 

“Try and climb up there.” One blond turned to him and blinked slowly. Like a frog. 

“Excuse me?” 

Scruff curled his lip at L’s response. 

“What are you, a posh cunt? Try and get the mistletoe down, my Ma wants some.” 

L felt a bit wheezy. They already decided that they hated these rude, awful children, and using E as an excuse to go back sounded so good right then. But they hated to back down from anything. They squinted up at the nearest clump of mistletoe. Wasn’t too bad. 

Already a well practiced climber, L toed off their shoes at the base of the tree, missing the delighted grins from the three behind them. They pulled themselves up slowly, branch to branch, digging their fingernails into the bark, so honed in they didn’t notice the children scattering from below them. They didn’t notice anything, except when they finally got the mistletoe in arm’s reach. Ripping it free hurt a bit, their palm scratched and sore, but they didn’t care. 

L looked down, expecting some sort of camaraderie, some sort of united cheer to go up, like back home when they had shown off the reason why they were destined to lead any pack in the future to their peers. Instead there was nothing. 

Not even their shoes. 

They stood, swaying, barefoot on a thick branch, mistletoe sticking into their skin, staring down. As if, if they kept looking, they’d suddenly reappear. Maybe they’d come out of hiding and start waving, or maybe even Red shall march back, ready to help them hunt down the other three awful dogs and make them pay for the tears pricking at L’s eyes. 

They waited a few more minutes before slowly climbing down, humiliation burning the back of their neck, spreading up their ears, flooding their cheeks. By the time they reached the bottom, toes frozen and feet hurting, their face was completely pink, and only in part from the exertion. 

L slowly made their way back, unable to let go of the stupid plant that sent them up there in the first place, fighting back pathetic sniffles. They finally reached E, sitting satisfied with a heap of chestnuts laid out in a line in front of them. It took them a moment to drink in the sight of their older sibling, shoeless and scowling. 

“Hast du geweint?” E asked, more curious than anything else. 

“English!” L snapped, grip on the plant tightening to the point of pain. 

“... Cry?” 

L rubbed their coat sleeve against their face roughly. 

“Pick up your chestnuts. Let’s go.” 

E quickly stuffed their pockets full of their treat and trotted after L, quietly slipping their mittened hand into theirs as they made their way back to the house. 

L gave their mother the mistletoe, who gave them a thin smile before cooing at E and their pocketfuls of chestnuts, ready to roast. She later shouted at L for losing their shoes, forcing their cold feet into a tub of steaming water and stomping off to get their father. The new boots they got hadn’t been broken in, and had blistered their feet. 

When they did leave the boarding house, the landlady pressing a small tin of sweets into L’s hand for them to share with E on the ride, they saw the children again. Red didn’t notice them, too busy trying to throw a stone through someone’s window. Scruff and the two blondes did notice, mouths agape as their carriage cluttered past, on the road that led to the Wolfpack Manor that would be their new home. 

Englisch- English

Schimpfwort! Schimpfwort- Dirty word! Dirty word!

Kastanien für mich, Kastanien für dich, Kastanien für das Haus, Kastanien für die Maus- Chestnut for me, chestnut for you, chestnut for the house, chestnut for the mouse-.

Hast du geweint- Have you been crying?

[animezinglife]

@goforth-ladymidnight, I recently read one that was excessively Fae in nature called The Thorns Remain.

It's a slower-paced story and won't be for everyone, but if you want the true tricksters, weird magic, mind games, and riddled speech, that might be a good option. J.J.A. Harwood is the author. The Fae isn't necessarily a love interest, but the situation is...sadistically intriguing.

I've never understood why SJM doesn't lean more into iron. It would even the playing field and raise stakes quite a bit more in general, and it would add intensity and depth to the fact Elain wears an iron engagement ring.

I obviously don't want anything to happen to Rhys and consider his and Feyre's story to be wrapped up with a nice little bow on top, but how interesting could that have been to have the "most powerful High Lord in history" at risk of being taken out by something that's so prevalent in his mate's/wife's world?

What about ballistas and "modern" war equipment from the human world being heavily armed and guarded with iron?

Maybe that could be a wicked advantage of Autumn: their fire burns so hot (so fast) that it poses a massive risk to the integrity of these arms. Or Winter, perhaps, could throw enough ice around the iron to either cease its function altogether or defend against iron's effects.

The biggest problem in my opinion with the series is we have no worldbuilding or grounding whatsoever. We've been in Night for how many years and still have no sense of what technologies they have or don't have (Toilets? Electricity? I'm so confused), modern clubbing mixed in with this all somehow, and fashion could either be something very Fae or a sweater and leggings from 2006.

Anything goes in fantasy, but only if you keep it consistent and ground it.

My biggest issue above all else with the Fae?

With the exception of Lucien, Eris, and perhaps Helion, none of them seem smarter than humans. I don't know if their brains just develop much more slowly or what (which, again, would be a contradiction given how young Lucien is for their world), but it's a little concerning.

My continuous complaint about ACOTAR and SJM in general is that she never rolls up her sleeves and digs deep. She doesn't get her hands dirty, and everything stays at a surface level.

Instead of ancient bad blood, political intrigue, and trickery among rivaling courts, I feel like I'm reading a Real Housewives recap.

Instead of having any sense of the very real (I'm assuming) turmoil within the Night Court between Illyrian dissenters, the Court of Nightmares, and Velaris, we get, "Yeah, growth takes time and we'll throw Azriel/Cassian/etc. at it and see if that works." Velaris is great for the people living in it.

Is life great for the lesser Fae living in the CoN? Illyrian women? Young males pushed a little too far? It IS realistic that Rhys wouldn't be able to solve every issue---it's one of his wiser moments to recognize that and not push too hard---yet I also wish there was more on this.

That, and the fact that we're supposed to assume these centuries-old Fae are A-okay with a human woman born yesterday now being their High Lady.

If we brought in more worldbuilding with the tensions between humans and Fae, the threat of iron, faebane, etc., then that could add some interesting, complicated layers.

You truly cannot compare the two, but if you value depth and were to read both The War of Lost Hearts and ACOTAR...there is absolutely no comparison.

You're emotionally exhausted and fulfilled throughout the former for good reason, and you have a nearly perfect sense of what their world looks like, the powers at play, and even worse, you're attached to most of them. There are no saints in that series, and even the more clear-cut heroes face significant, meaningful, grounded backlash.

That series also has Fae, though they're not your traditional sorts either. They're more warlike and hardened.

Sorry this is a long post, I had to rant a bit.

The thing that bothers me the most about the ACOTAR series is the fae. I love fae, I love stories with fae in them, there are so many interesting things you can do with them. So many ways you can make them unique and yet still retain the basis of what fae are. And yet Sarah J Maas just... doesn't.

SJM really just took everything interesting about the fae and threw it in the bin. The fae to me have always been fantastical, "other", they just don't feel human, they feel different, they feel strange. But ACOTAR's fae are just so bland and boring. They don't feel different to the humans. In fact they feel like humans but with magic and pointy ears. It genuinely pains me how SJM threw everything interesting about the fae away.

I personally love the concept of the fae not being able to lie. There is so much fun and interest in that concept. It is something that is challenging to navigate. Every fae character cannot directly tell a lie therefore you have to get creative with what they say, you have to twist words around so that they can lie without actually lying.

That idea is initially presented to us but Feyre learns pretty early on that that isn't true. That the fae in ACOTAR can lie. Even if SJM wanted to take away the concept that fae can't lie, she didn't even play around with Feyre's misconception about them. Feyre could've gone through part of the first book believing everything that the fae said to her to be true. To me, that sounds like an interesting concept and i would've loved to read about it. I can't remember exactly how quickly Feyre is told the fae can lie but it's not even slightly an issue.

Another thing about the fae is that they're mischievous. They love playing tricks, whether it's something mild or completely cruel. But ACOTAR's characters lack that mischievousness, the cunning. They aren't tricksters like fae usually are. Correct me if I'm wrong but I can't seem to remember a time when someone attempted to trick Feyre. Amarantha made a deal with Feyre, but it was straightforward, there was no trick to it. Rhysand didn't trick her into the bargain either. It would've been interesting to see the fae attempting to trick Feyre, to get her to enter into a bargain that seems good but they worded it in a way that it is actually bad.

Instead the ACOTAR characters, specifically the males, are all presented as your typical "alpha male". Rhysand is presented to us as cunning but to me he doesn't feel like that of a cunning fae but a cunning human. Tamlin can literally shapeshift and yet SJM doesn't do anything of interest with that. Luicen was slightly mischievous in Book 1 but even then it is how you expect any normal character to be, he does not play tricks like that of the fae. I might be nitpicking with these but i truly wish we had gotten more trickster like characters.

As much as everyone likes to hate on Book 1, there were interesting fae in that book. The Bogge, the Naga, the Puca (I suppose this one did trick Feyre), the Suriel. Alis was interesting, she was described as having bark like skin. I want more diversity in the characters looks. Our main cast and most of the major side characters all look normal, human but with pointy ears or wings.

Their appearance isn't necessarily the issue. It's the fact that the fae are meant to be seen as difderent to the humans and yet they barely are.

So many interesting things about the Fae, from their behaviour to their culture and magic and rituals, all the funky little things humans do to ward off or stop the fae, down the drain. And if I'm being completely honest, I believe SJM isn't a competent enough writer to pull off the complexities that make the fae, fae. It feels almost disrespectful to call these characters fae.

(I am no expert in fae mythology. But from all that I've seen and read, these characters just aren't it.)

[the-fiction-witch]

Baby Tully P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Oscar Tully (Age Up I suppose) Couple - Oscar X Reader Reader - Y/n (wife) Rating - 15 (Childbirth) Word Count - 1607

The storm soon came and began to batter Riverrun with rain, wind and thunder. The waters of the Trident River lapped at the walls in the wind. Y/n woke uncharacteristically early often Oscar woke her for some kisses when he left for his duties and she'd sleep a few more hours till finally getting up around midday. But she was awake before Oscar, She sat up finding her body so uncomfortable and painful but she couldn't figure out why. But the pain only got worse and worse until she had no choice. "Oscar? Oscar?" She spoke up trying to wake but not panic him,

Oscar woke up to the sound of Y/n's voice calling his name. He was immediately alert, sensing that something was wrong. He sat up in bed and looked over at her, his eyes filled with concern. "Yes, my love? What is it? Are you alright?"

"Could you... Call for the maester.".

Oscar's heart skipped a beat at her words. He could see the pain in her eyes and realized something was seriously wrong. Without hesitation, he climbed out of bed and rushed to the door. "I'll get the maester right away. Just hold on a minute, my love." He quickly opened the door and summoned a nearby guard to fetch the maester. As the guard left to find the maester, Oscar returned to the bed and sat down beside Y/n. He took her hand in his, gently stroking it with his thumb. He was struggling to keep his own anxiety at bay, but tried to stay calm for her sake. "The maester is coming. Just hang on a little longer, my love. Everything is going to be alright."

she squeezed his hand as she struggled through the ever-building pain

Oscar held her hand tight, his heart clenching with each squeeze of her hand. He could see the pain etched across her face, and it was all he could do to not panic. "It's going to be alright. The maester is on his way. Just try to stay calm, my love."

the maester soon arrived his chain clinking as he arrives,

Oscar quickly stood up, relief washing over him. He stepped aside to let the maester approach Y/n. "Maester, thank the gods you're here. Something is wrong. She's in a great deal of pain."

"Yes of course my lord Tully." He nodded as he approached the bed he gave Y/n a few checks and hummed contemporary for a moment before he spoke, "yes... Yes... I see the trouble,"

Oscar stayed by Y/n's side, his hand still tightly grasping hers. He listened intently as the maester spoke, his heart pounding in his chest. He was desperate for answers, for reassurance that everything would be alright. "What is it, maester? Please, tell me what's going on."

"There is no need for concern my lord. The lady Tully has merely begun her labours"

A wave of relief washed over Oscar as the maester's words sank in. Labour. Their child was finally on the way. He squeezed Y/n's hand, his expression one of both concern and excitement. "Labour? The baby is coming?"

"Yes early labour for a few hours now I suspect. A few more hours to go but with any luck the lady will deliver before dinner."

Oscar nodded, a mix of excitement and worry warring inside him. A few more hours? The wait would be agonizing, but he knew they had no choice. He looked down at Y/n, his hand still holding hers. "Do you hear that love? Our child is coming. Just a few more hours and we'll get to meet him."

Y/n nodded excited but also terrified. The maester called for maids to fetch water, hot towels and help to arrange and prepare the bed for her labours.

"Now I must ask do you recall the night of conception my lord?" The maester asks,

Oscar was taken back a bit by the unexpected question, but he quickly composed himself, his mind going back to the night their child was conceived. "Yes, I recall the night well. Why do you ask, maester?"

"Well, children even this young are rather creatures of habit. They want to come out... As they went in one may say." He chuckled, "So do you happen to recall the uhh position the lady Tully was in?"

Oscar felt his face turn red at the bluntness of the question, but he understood the need for it. He remembered back to that night, his mind going over the details of their lovemaking. He looked down at Y/n, then back at the maester and responded a little sheepishly. "Yes, I do recall. She was on the edge of the bed, on her back."

the maester Nodded, "Perfect." He then ordered the maids to arrange pillows and supports to keep Y/n comfortable on her back regularly checking on her progress, "Excellent my lady. The baby is coming along smoothly”

Oscar stayed beside her, his hand still holding hers. He was feeling a mix of anticipation and anxiety as he watched the maester check on her progress. "Everything is going well, then? The baby is coming along as they should be?"

"yes almost fully dilated now. Almost time to get working my lady." The maester explained

Y/n was now weeping and choking back her pained whimpers

Oscar squeezed Y/n's hand, his heart clenching at seeing her in so much pain. He wanted so badly to take that pain away, but he knew he could do nothing but watch and support her. "You're doing so well, my love. Just a little longer, and we'll get to meet our little baby Tully."

Y/n nodded squeezing Oscar's hard tightly "...our baby tully..." She muttered as if trying to use it as a crutch for her pain before letting out a scream

Oscar winced at the sound of her scream, hating that there was nothing he could do to take away her pain. He felt his hand being crushed by hers, but he didn't dare withdraw from her grip. "That's right, our little one. Think of it, my love. Soon we'll get to hold our Baby Tully in our arms."

The maester spoke up, starting to give y/n orders. Ordering her to breathe, to push, and all manner of other things, time seemed endless and sickening the longer this all went on. "Push, my lady. The baby is almost here. Push."

Oscar's heart was racing, but he tried to remain calm for Y/n's sake. He looked down at her, encouraging her. "You can do this, my love. You're so strong. Push."

Y/n screamed and cried through every push, crushing Oscar's hand and clawing at their sheets crying and throwing back her head

With each push, Oscar's hand felt as if it was being crushed, but he held fast, not wanting to let go and give Y/n the impression that he was backing away at all. He ached to see her in so much pain, feeling helpless to do anything but offer support and words of encouragement. "That's it, my love. You're almost there, just a little more. You're doing so well."

"ah... Yes... I see..." The maester spoke up, as blood coated his hands, "My lady you must push."

"No... No... I can't do anymore." Y/n cried,

Fear and anxiety clutched at Oscar's heart as he listened to the maester's voice, his hands stained with blood. "You can do it, my love. I know you're tired, I know you're in pain, but our little one is almost here. You have to push just a little more. You must."

"I can't" Y/n cried tears flooding down her face, "it hurts ... So much" she wept, “Please… Please Oscar I can’t do any more…”

Oscar's heart broke at the sight of her tears, the sound of her pained cries. "I know it hurts, my love. But our Baby Tully is right there. You're so close. You're so close. Just a little bit more. You can do this."

“Please no more…”

The Maester met eyes with Oscar a dark look in his eyes. And Oscar knew without a single word what the maester was asking. Whether or not to force Y/n through this unwillingly, or to cut her open and take the baby which would without doubt kill her but perhaps save the baby. Fear and desperation coursed through him. For a moment, Oscar was paralyzed. He could not fathom losing his wife, and being forced to choose between the love of his life or his precious child. He looked back at Y/n, his heart breaking at the sight of her in so much pain and distress. He gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his voice soft but firm. "You have to push, my love. I know you're tired, I know you're scared, but I also know how strong you are. You have to be strong for just a little longer, for Baby Tully. Can you do that, for me? Can you push, one more time?"

Y/n wept and screamed out throwing her head back as she pushed as hard as she could, that one push enough to force her body into working on its own. Her body senses what it has to do and acts on its own to get the baby out.

Oscar watched helplessly as Y/n pushed, every muscle in her body working hard to deliver their child. Her tears streamed down her face and her screams filled the air, but she pushed even harder. He could see the pain etched on her features, but he also caught a glimpse of determination in her eyes. "That's it, my love. You're doing it. Just a little more. Our Baby Tully is almost here."

Y/n screamed out once more and suddenly the screams and sound of the storm seemed to silence as a gentle cry began,

[atimeofyourlife]

Go ahead, rip my heart out

Part 2 of the make it worse before it gets better (part 1 here | ao3)

rated: t | wc: 1283

There was a little bit of a whirlwind once they knew what was going on. Maddie was going to call Chimney while Eddie let Bobby know, and then the message would get passed on to Hen.

Bobby and Athena were the first to arrive, followed by Chimney, followed by Hen. It felt all too familiar, gathering together in a hospital waiting room sharing information while waiting for news on Buck.

"What even happened?" Hen asked, looking between Eddie and Maddie. "Have you called Tommy?"

Eddie sighed, hating that he was going to have to break the news. "Buck came over to mine last night after Tommy broke up with him. We split a six pack and he slept on my couch. When I woke up this morning he was having cardiac symptoms so I called for an ambulance and here we are."

"They're still doing testing but the doctors think it's broken heart syndrome." Maddie added.

"Is that even a real thing?" Athena asked after a beat of silence.

"The clinical name is takotsubo cardiomyopathy. It's a sudden weakening of a the heart muscle." Hen explained, sounding like she was repeating verbatim something she had read in a medical textbook when she was in medical school.

"Yeah." Maddie replied, nodding at Hen. "It's often caused by sudden physical or emotional stress. Like the loss of a loved one or a break up. That's why it's called broken heart syndrome."

read more below the cut or on ao3

Once Buck was done with the testing and was allowed visitors, Eddie, Maddie, and Bobby joined Buck to hear what the doctors had to say.

"The scans we have done are showing an enlargement of the left ventricle, which is the standard presentation of takotsubo cardiomyopathy. We're going to need to keep you in for a few days, for continued monitoring, but the outlook is good."

"What does it mean for work? I'm a firefighter." Buck asked, still sounding a little out of breath but nowhere near as bad as he had before Eddie had called 911.

"Well, you are going to be out for a while. Maybe on light duty behind a desk for a few months. But the majority of people recover to full health. The heart muscle usually heals within a month, and it's generally around two months for patients to get back to full health. We will continue monitoring, so you won't be able to return to full duty until you have received the all clear from us."

"What is the chance of recurrence?" Maddie asked, sounding a little worried.

"Recurrence is seen in the region of 4 to 10 percent of cases, and there is no solid way to guarantee prevention. But we recommend eating well, sleeping well, regular exercise. If you haven't already, maybe look into therapy to talk about the emotional stressors both on and off the job."

"I have been in therapy, but not for a while. I guess I need to call Doctor Copeland." Buck sighed. "What about complications?"

"That was going to be my next point. Complications are rare, but as a precaution we will be starting you on blood thinners, because of your history of blood clots. The complication we are most concerned about in your case is a blood clot in the heart wall."

"Great." Buck slumped back into his pillows, seeming defeated.

"I'll give you some time. A nurse will be in shortly with your medication." The doctor said, before leaving the room.

"Buck, as soon as you're cleared medically, you can come back. If you're still on blood thinners, it won't be a deal breaker. I won't make that same mistake again." Bobby assured him.

"It's not." Buck sighed. "It's just hitting all the greatest hits right now. Someone I love has left me again, god I've lost count of how many times that has happened. I'm back on blood thinners, like after my leg was crushed. Worried about my heart health, like after the lightning strike. I just can't help wondering what's next?"

--

Working without Buck felt strange. They were back on shift a couple of days after Buck had been admitted to the hospital, and everything just felt slightly off. Eddie knew that they all should be used to working down a man between all the injuries and health scares they'd accumulated over the years, or all the times personal reasons had kept them off the job, like the months he was working at dispatch as a liaison. Hell, they hadn't long had Bobby back at the head of the 118. But Buck, he was the glue that held their family together. Eddie had heard the stories from before he'd joined, before Buck had joined. People had been friends, but not family. It had been Buck's stubbornness and huge heart that had turned the station into a family.

And he couldn't help worrying. What if something else happened to Buck? Sure, Buck was in hospital, and it was the best place for him to be. And he was already responding to the treatment. But there was always that what if. Everyone else had told him that Buck would be okay, that the doctor had assured them that he would make a full recovery. But they hadn't seen him. Only Eddie had seen how he'd been that morning. How terrifying it had been to see his best friend in so much pain, not knowing what was going on.

The only thing keeping him going was knowing that Buck would never be alone for long. Even while they were on shift, there was a revolving cast of friends and family that would continue to check in on him. Maddie, Athena, Karen, Carla, Pepa, Josh, Linda, Sue. People that could stop by for a few minutes, others for a longer visit. Somewhat replicating what had happened when Buck was recovering from the lightning strike, but more to keep him company while he was in the hospital than having people constantly on his doorstep to check in without actually letting him rest.

--

It was a four alarm fire at an apartment complex near the end of shift. There were so many houses on scene, Eddie tried to focus on the job rather than trying to figure out who else was involved. He had noticed the 217 engine, and could only hope that Tommy was on air support. He wasn't ready to have that conversation. Hell, he wasn't sure he would be able to have that conversation without it turning to anger. What could he even say to the man who had just broken his best friend's heart so bad it had landed him in the hospital.

"Diaz." He was just packing down the equipment at the end when he was approached by one of the 133 paramedics. "How's Buckley doing?"

"Better. He's responding to treatment, still in hospital." Eddie replied.

"That's good to hear, we were pretty worried about him. Thought it could be some delayed reaction to the lightning."

"No. It- uh-it's a type of cardiomyopathy." Eddie said, choosing his words carefully. Not wanting to share too many details of Buck's health. "The doctor said he should make a full recovery within a few months."

"Nothing keeps you guys at the 118 down for long. Let him know we're all thinking about him."

"Will do, thanks man." Eddie nodded and the paramedic left to join the rest of the 133.

Eddie finished loading the equipment back into the engine, and made to get in, when he noticed Tommy standing a few feet away. He didn't want to acknowledge him, but Tommy beat him to it.

"Eddie," Tommy's voice sounded a little hoarse, a slightly distant look on his face. "Where's Evan?"

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Have another bucktommy fix it fic. Because lord knows we’re all still happily in denial about the break up.

Read on Ao3 or below the cut

**********

Word count: 3,474

Rating: General

Summary:

Eddies had enough of both of them in his ear about the other and decides to force them to talk. For their sake and his waistline.

**********

“Thanks for this, man.”

“I’m not doing this for you—I’m doing it for my waistline. If I have to eat one more lemon loaf of chocolate cake I’m gonna smack you with it.” Eddie told him.

Buck gave a light laugh. “Yeah I’ve been baking a lot, I know.”

“A lot? There’s going to be a flour shortage soon if you don’t stop.”

Buck sat back into Eddie’s sofa and sipped his beer and sighed. “I just.. I keep going back and forth in my mind about reaching out to him. Baking..”

“Helps distract you, I know.” Eddie said.

“It happened so quick that I-I haven’t been able to reconcile in my head. I didn’t get the chance to say anything. He just.. left.”

“I know, bud.” He patted Buck on the shoulder. “That’s why I thought a game night might be good for you. Get out some of that emotion by trying to beat me.”

“Trying?”

“Hey, just because you’re heartbroken doesn’t mean I’m gonna go easy on you.” Eddie said.

A knock on the door echoed down the hall.

“That’ll be the pizza.” Eddie stood up and left the room and opened the front door.

“Glad you could make it.”

“I brought beers.” Tommy said holding up a 6 pack.

“Good man. Put them in the living room.” Tommy walked ahead as Eddie closed the door. “Please dear God let this work.” He whispered to himself and signed the Cross against his chest.

“Did you say you were ordering pi-“ Tommy words died on his tongue when he walked into the room to see Buck on the sofa. His heart thrummed in his chest. He knew he’d eventually have to see Buck but didn’t figure it would be this soon. It had only been a month. He thought he’d have more time to prepare for it.

He was just as beautiful as when he’d last seen him; when he’d walked out of his apartment leaving him heartbroken. The cracks in his heart forged by his own cowardice widened as he looked at his ex boyfriend.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here. I’ll go.” He turned to leave but Eddie stood firmly in the doorway.

“No, you won’t.”

“Eddie.” Tommy protested.

“No.” He crossed his arms. “I care about you both, but damn it if I have to take one more minute of either one of you talking about the other I’m going to kill you both. So, here’s what’s going to happen: I am going for dinner with Tia Pepa and you two are going to stay here and talk.”

Buck stood to protest but Eddie raised his hand to stop him.

“Stop. Get back together, or stay broken up—at this point I don’t care. But you’re going to, at the very least, talk shit out enough that you stop making it awkward for everybody else. You’re both important to all of us but we can’t deal with the awkwardness anymore. Or the baking.” He said pointedly to Buck. So please, for everyone’s sake, talk.”

He picked up his phone and keys. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Don’t break anything.”

And with that Buck and Tommy were alone again for the first time in a month.

*

“Leave if you want. You’re good at that.” Buck said after a few minutes. It was a childish jab, he knew, but Tommy deserved it. And worse.

Tommy sighed. “Buck.”

Buck.

That was the cruelest part of what Tommy did. His way of punctuating the break up. The cherry on the top of the world’s shittiest cake. Buck clenched his jaw to try to keep down his anger.

“Just go.” He said, not looking at Tommy.

Tommy stood in the doorway, conflicted. Part of him did want to leave. Simply seeing Evan was breaking his heart, but hearing his derision—no matter how deserved it may be—was breaking it even more. But Eddie had a point. Tommy had forged a relationship again with Hen and Chimney and had started a new one with Eddie—he didn’t want them to be sat stuck in this awkward position between the two of them.

He’d tried to distance himself from them when he’d first broken up with Evan—it was better for Evan to not have to worry about potentially running into him at events. But they’d all convinced him to stick around; that they’d like having him around again.

He took a few steps into the room. “Eddie is right. It’s not fair on everyone else.”

“Yeah well whose fault is that?” Buck said back, still not looking at him.

Tommy sighed as he sat down on the chair next to the sofa—the furthest away from Buck. “It’s mine, I know.” He said quietly. “I didn’t.. I didn’t mean to hurt you. You have to know that.”

Buck finally looked at him. Anger in his eyes. “The only thing i know is that you threw away something good, great even, because you’re a coward.”

“I know.” Tommy said meekly.

“You know the thing I don’t get? Why spent six months dating me if you knew all along that we wouldn’t have a future? I mean did you just get a kick out of stringing me along? Making me think that we had something special?” Bucks voice was terse and louder towards the end. He was trying really hard to keep himself calm but fuck it was hard to do when Tommy had the audacity to be in front of him acting like he was the one hurting.

“No, Ev- Bu-. I wasn’t stringing you along. Not at all!”

“But you knew it wouldn’t last, right? That’s what you said—you knew I would break your heart. So why even bother?”

Tommy rubbed his face with his hands. His pulse was rising with frustration, which he knew wasn’t really fair but Buck wasn’t understanding.

“I thought.. I thought at first it was just going to be a bit of fun with this adorable, gorgeous guy. We’d have our fun and it would eventually fizzle out. The longer we dated, the more- I kept telling myself that something was going to inevitably happen. But then you’re telling me that I transformed your life and then asking me to move in and it was too much.”

“So you just bailed? That was your solution?”

“You don’t know me, Evan. Not really. You just know the idealised version of me you have in your head.”

Buck couldn’t deny he felt a twinge in his heart at hearing Tommy call him ‘Evan’. But it wasn’t enough to douse the righteous anger he was feeling.

“Could you be anymore patronising?!”

“I’m not patronising you.” Tommy argued back.

“Yes, actually are. Telling me what I see or feel about you. Like I’m not a grown ass man who understands his own feelings.”

“But it’s true—you do have this version of me in your head that you’ve shoved onto a pedestal. I see it in how you look at me; like I’m this perfect human. Some bastion of queer identity. You said it yourself—you’re comfortable in yourself because I am. Except I’m not. I’m not comfortable with myself. Do you even know how many shitty things I’ve done in my life that I hate myself for?!”

“No, Tommy I don’t. Because you haven’t told me. I’m not as naive as you like to think I am and I’m actually pretty perceptive—I know that you’d been through some shit that you’re not comfortable talking about. And I never asked because I respected you enough to wait until you felt comfortable telling me.” Buck slammed his empty beer bottle onto the coffee table. “You don’t get to be pissed at me for not understanding shit about you that you didn’t tell me about.”

Tommy knew he had a point. He hadn’t been open with Buck as maybe he should have; only showing him the good parts of himself. He couldn’t blame Buck for forming an opinion on him based on what little he’d chosen to share.

He pulled out a beer from his six-pack and took a few gulps.

“You’re right. There’s a lot of things about me that I haven’t told you about. And that’s on me. All you need to know is I’m not a good person. I’m not the person you want to spend your life with.”

“See there you go again—telling me what I want.”

“Thats not.. I’m not trying to..”

“The worst part about this is you think you’re being fair. You’ve decided that breaking up is the right thing to do. You’ve not once stopped to ask what I want or I feel. No, you’ve already decided because it makes it easier for you.”

That got Tommy’s blood up. The words came cascading out of him before he had the chance to stop them. “You think any of this has been easy for me?!” His voice was loud and echoed in the room.

“I didn’t say it was easy I said it was easier Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me breaking up with me was harder than staying.“

“I can’t.” He said quietly.

“I just can’t understand how in the entire time that we were together that you couldn’t trust me.” Buck said.

It was one of the things that had hurt Buck the most. He’d trusted Tommy with everything; told him about embarrassing moments, painful parts of his life and Tommy hadn’t returned the favour. Hadn’t trusted him as much as he trusted Tommy.

“I did trust you.” He said looking at him.

“Not enough.” Buck sighed. “I know that I’m an open book, more than most people. Trust me I’ve been called an over-sharer more than once. I don’t expect you to be as open as me, but I at least thought after 6 months you’d feel like you could talk to me about some stuff.”

“Me not talking about my shit isn’t a reflection on you, or our relationship—it’s a reflection of my whole life before we met. I’ve spent most of my life having to hide who I am. First from my dad who couldn’t stand to have a fairy for a son, then the army who would have kicked me out with a dishonourable if they have found out and you’ve had first hand experience of Gerrard.. I spent a lifetime in environments that didn’t exactly foster openness.”

Buck felt a like a cinder block had been dropped in his stomach hearing Tommy speak about his life. He wanted to hug him. But he didn’t move. He couldn’t. He felt sadness for Tommy, but it wasn’t enough to take away the hurt he’d caused.

The thing is, Buck knew that he was in part responsible for what had happened between them. Not the actual break up or his chest being ripped open and his heart forcibly removed. But he was beginning to realise that he could have done more. He could have asked Tommy about his past, or maybe took time to reassure him that he could talk to Buck about it.

“You’re.. your dad called you that?” He asked softly.

“He called me a lot of things, but that was his favourite.” Tommy swigged his beer and kept his eyes on his hands. “He preferred his fists though.”

“I’m sorry, Tommy.”

“Why? It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but you didn’t deserve to be treated that way. No kid does.” Buck told him.

Tommy knew that these days, but he didn’t for a long time. He spent years telling himself if he’d have just been a better son—a straighter son—then his dad would have loved him.

“Everything that I went through.. I turned into a person that I look back on and despise. You would despise him too if you knew him; knew what he did.”

Buck was close to smacking him across the head for once again telling him how he would react instead of trusting him to react the right way. But he held it inside.

“As much as you’ve convinced yourself otherwise, I know you’re not perfect. And I haven’t put you on a pedestal. Do I admire you? Yeah. I mean for god sake we met because you flew us into a damn hurricane—that’s pretty damn admirable. I admire the fact that you’re not afraid to be yourself. And yes, I know that you weren’t always like that, but you are like that now.”

“I am comfortable with who I am now, but not who I used to be.”

“But that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s who you used to be. There has to come a point Tommy where you stop chastising yourself.”

“You say that like it’s easy.”

“No, I know that it isn’t.” Buck argued. “I just.. I guess what hurts the most is that you don’t believe that I see good in you.”

Tommy looked across at Buck who was looking down at his beer bottle; a sad look on his face.

“You’re so convinced that I would hate you for who you were, or that I would leave you for someone better, without even giving me a chance to prove to you that I wouldn’t do that.”

“I..” Tommy knew Buck was right—he hadn’t given him the chance. But what cost would that chance come with?

Buck slid across the sofa closer to Tommy.

“I understand a bit more now about why what I said that night freaked you out. You’re not used to people giving a shit. But I also owe you an apology. I-“

“No, you-“ Tommy tried interrupting but Buck raised his hand to stop him.

“Please, Tommy. Let me say this.” Tommy nodded.

“These last 6 months was happiest I’ve been in a long time. And-and I guess I got so caught up it that, in you, that I didn’t think to stop and check in with you. And I should have. I should have asked if you were okay at the pace we were going at. I should asked if you were comfortable and took the time to reassure you that you could trust me with all of you. But I didn’t. And for that I’m sorry. The truth is you never made me feel like I’m too much, or too needy or annoying. You listened intently when I was yapping about a subject you didn’t care about. When I was freaking out about Billy Boils curse, that i know you don’t believe in, you never once made me feel stupid about it.

For the first time in my life I felt like being me was enough. That’s what I meant when I said being with you was transformative. Not that you were some kind of gay guru.”

He tentatively reached out to take Tommys hand and he let him.

Tommy was having a really hard time hearing Buck’s words. He had been right—nobody had ever really given a shit about him. At least not the extent Buck did. He’d never had someone be so earnest with him before and he was having trouble keeping his emotions at bay. A part of him was desperate to do what he’d always done and to run away as fast and as far as he could.

But he could lie to himself—Bucks.. Evan’s hand in his brought a comfort to him that he hadn’t realised he’d relied upon when they were together.

“Asking you to move in was stupid. I think I just got so excited at the thought of a future with you I got ahead of myself and did things in the wrong order.” He took a deep breath and continued. “What I should have said first.. was that I’m in love with you.”

Tommy’s whole body tensed up and his heart slammed against his chest with reckless abandon.

“Before you even think about telling me I’m wrong, I’m not. I might have been new to being in a relationship with a guy, I’m not new to relationships. I’ve been in love before, I know what it feels like. I love you, Tommy. And I know that’s scary for you to hear and I don’t ever want to be the person who scares you but it’s the truth.”

Buck was terrified. He’d never poured his heart out to anybody to this degree. But if he wanted Tommy to be more open with him, he’d have to be more open with Tommy.

“You-you don’t have to say it back. I just wanted to be honest with you about how I feel. Because it is how I feel and-“

“I love you, too.”

Buck had wanted to hear that from him for months and thought he knew how’d he’d feel when Tommy said those words. But he wasn’t even close. Without warning, or permission, he immediately burst into tears. Everything he felt before the breakup, everything he felt after.. it all just poured out of him.

“Really?” He asked; voice shaky and barely there.

“Yes.” Tommy assured Buck, his own tears now falling. It seemed that opening up just a little to him was enough for the floodgates to come crashing down no matter how hard he’d been trying to keep his emotions at bay. “It’s why I’m so fucking terrified. Evan, you are the single, most beautiful thing I have ever had in my life and the thought of losing you scared the shit out of me so much that I felt like running was the only thing I could do to keep my heart safe in case it went wrong.”

“But I’m scared, too, Tommy. I’ve had my heart broken before, just like you. But you’re worth the risk.” Buck sniffed and wiped his eyes. “All I want is for you to think I’m worth the risk, too.”

“You are worth the risk.” He said. He moved forward and dropped to his knees in front of Buck, reaching up and taking his face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” More tears fell and Buck put his hands on Tommys forearms, holding them tightly in place, scared that Tommy would let go.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

Buck looked at him for a few moments. He knew what he was going to say but hey, he could make Tommy sweat for a minute.

“On two conditions.” He finally said.

“Name them.”

“We talk. And I mean properly talk. I don’t expect you to tell me everything straight away—I don’t want you to feel pressure to do that. But I’m going to need you to tell me if things get too much for you or too fast. And i promise that I will do the same and check in with you more.”

“I can’t lie and say that it’ll be easy for me, but I promise I will try. I been thinking recently actually that I might go back to therapy.”

“Yeah?”

“All of this has made me realise that I haven’t dealt with my shit as much as I thought I had.” Tommy admitted. “Maybe.. maybe you could come with me sometimes?”

Tommy sounded so unsure and nervous. Buck had never seen him like that before and it made him realise that Tommy was maybe right about him putting him on a pedestal. He’d assumed that this cool, confident man never wavered.

“Of course I would. I’ll do whatever you need me to do to help.”

“Thank you. What was the second condition?”

Buck sighed and a soft, pleading look came across his face. “Kiss me.”

Tommy didn’t waste a single second and leaned forward capturing Evan’s lips. It was solid and firm; Desperate. He’d spent a month thinking he’d never get to taste Evan’s lips ever again.

Buck whined into it and wrapped his arms around Tommys neck holding him in place. He’d thought he’d lost the love of his life forever but by the grace of god he’d got him back. And though he knew things weren’t going to go back to the way they were before, and that they both had a lot of work to do to built their relationship back up—he was not going to let him go.

*

Eddie tentatively unlocked the door and stepped inside hoping that he wasn’t going to walk into a crime scene. There was no yelling, so that was a good sign. But then he realised there was no yelling because there was no sound.

He swore to himself that if they’d both left after he did and not even tied to work things out he might actually kill them both.

He walked into the living room and immediately recoiled at what he saw.

“Oh dear god! On my sofa?! Really?!”

[redsrooftopprincess]

SOBBINF I LOVE YOUR DISABILITY HEADCANONS SO MUCH,, MIKEY'S IS A STRAIGHT PUNCH TO THE GUT <33

May I possibly request reader x Mikey where they find out how he copes and helps make him feel more comfortable? Maybe they find him stoned and snuggles are just exactly what he needs at the moment? Possibly even attempting to help him through his unhealthier coping mechanisms? Bonus points if reader has depression as well!

Of course, no rush and you totally don't gotta do this if you don't want!! Headcanons or one-shot would be rad either way, if you are interested in this req!

Your writing is just so real and I love it so much oml. You are doing AMAZING (in general- as a fanfic writer as well I understand the effort that goes into this stuff and maintaining a regular life ontop of it) and thank you for all your hard work!!

I hope this is okay! 😅

Crushed

Warnings: Drugs/Alcohol, Inebriation

"That's what this is, isn't it? A drive by?" he says, standing, and putting his clothes back on. 

You're on the couch in the club's green room, after the best sex of your life. The party ended hours ago, and in your E induced haze, you'd taken his hand and dragged him down here. 

"What? No! Why would you-?" You swing your legs over the side of the couch and walk over to him a little unsteadily, "Mike, no..." He doesn't look up at you. "I mean... is that what you want it to be?" You ask, hesitantly.

"That's what it is," he says simply.

You swallow and inhale, tears threatening.

He finishes putting on his belt and looks up at you, he tries to ignore the tears in your eyes. Regret, that's all it is, that you ever let him touch you. It didn't matter, it was almost sunrise, "That's what it is," he repeats, "That's always what it is."

You hear it, the bitterness, the acceptance in his voice. He just doesn't have it in him to hide it tonight. It breaks your heart. "Michaelangelo, please..." 

"Look, it's almost morning. I gotta get back underground. I'll see you Wednesday," he said, not really sounding like he was looking forward to the next party. He leaves before you can protest further. 

He knows what you're going to say. He's a great guy, but he's not exactly normal, you know? He's not exactly someone you can bring home to meet the folks. And he really doesn't need to hear it. He gets it. He does. And he feels like shit would be a lot easier if he didn't. If he didn't know *exactly* how unwanted he is. Only good for a good trip, and a decent fuck, if you're feeling adventurous. He snatches a bottle off the empty bar as he makes his way out into the alley. 

It had to be you tonight. He already hadn't been in the best place when the party started, so there was no resistance when you took his hand. On a good day, you could lead him into hell, and he'd follow with a smile on his face. On a night like tonight, he'd thank you. You're friends, but in these circles the line between friend and lover blurs easily. You've slept together a number of times and he always leaves right after. You mean everything to him, so he'd let you do anything to him. Use him however you like. As long as he doesn't have to hear you let him down easy.

You dress quickly. You know what's happening. It keeps happening. He's shutting down. Shutting you out. He assumes you got what you wanted, end of transaction, and honestly the sex was great, it's *always* great, but what you want is him. Not sex. And your not letting him run away. Not this time.

You follow him down into the sewers, and find him sitting against the wall of one of the tunnels, knees curled up to his chest and tears staining the fabric beneath his eyes. You startle him and he tries to get up to face whatever might be attacking him, but stumbles, drunk. 

He sits back down once he realizes it's you. Now everything is so much worse. He never wanted you to see him like this. He didn't need you to feel bad for him. You ask him what's wrong and he doesn't want to talk about it. You say that's okay, and move the bottle out of reach, sitting next to him. 

You sit together in silence for a few minutes. You're terrified that saying the wrong thing will send him running from you faster. 

"Mike-" 

"I don't wanna talk about it, okay?" He gets up to leave, taking the bottle with him, and has to catch himself on the wall when he sways. 

You sigh and stand, but don't move to follow him, "Why not?"

"Because there's no point." 

"Why not?"

"Because you..." He looks at you and his heart clenches, he sighs, "forget it." He stumbles a few steps away and stops with a heavy sigh, "I can pretend all I want, and so can the rest of you, like I'm normal... I'm not," he turns around to look at you, his face a mask of escalating pain and injustice as his fists clench tight, "I'm not. I'm not normal. I'll never be normal..." he shakes his head with a sickening smirk, "It's just a game. Everyone gets dressed up to be freaks for a night and we dance and drink and trip and fuck, and at the end of the night, everyone else gets to stop playing and go home because they can. But I can't take the costume off," he says, grabbing his plastron where it meets his chest, "This isn't fucking make up. I can't even walk around in the FUCKING DAYLIGHT!!!" He roars, hurling the bottle he's holding against the wall of the tunnel, a shard of glass ricochets back and cuts his cheek. "I'm not a person. I'm the fucking party mascot." He spits, venomously,

You take a step forward, "Mike, you know that's not true." 

Bitter laughter echoes in the enclosed space. "Funny. That's... That's funny. Really. Because I've been coming to these parties, meeting people, for seven years now. I've watched *seventeen* people end up just like Sarah and Ben." Your friends had been celebrating their engagement tonight, Michaelangelo had introduced them at a party three years ago. 

"I don't get to have that... I'll *never* get to have that," he chokes, "even as a joke. Honestly, at this point I'd take a joke. I'm already pretending to be a person, wouldn't be that hard of a jump to pretend to be loved, too. I'd just have to find someone willing to lie to me..."

He trails off and the silence that hangs in the air once the echoes of his voice fades is heavy and oppressive. 

"Like I said, there's no fucking point..." He turns around and starts walking down the tunnel towards home, one hand on the wall for support. "Don't worry, I'll be back to all smiles by Wednesday. We can pretend like this never happened. This doesn't have to be a thing and you don't have to pretend whether or not it matters if I'm okay." He hears you take a step toward him, "Go home, Y/N," he calls back without turning around. 

Fine. If he's going to leave anyway, you have nothing to lose. "No." 

"Okay, fine," he sighs continuing down the tunnel, "do whatever you want." 

"Okay," you say, simply, as you begin to follow him. 

He stops, shoulders tight, face toward the ceiling, and sighs heavily, "What are you doing?"

"Whatever I want?" you reply, closing the distance. 

He turns to face you, tired and hurting. If you want to go another round, he isn't exactly in a place where he can say no. At the very least, he could use the dopamine. He used to imagine it would be different with you. He should have known better. Jaw tight, he sighs before reaching for his belt.

Your eyes widen as you realize what he thinks you're implying, your heart shattering all over again. You bring your hand up to rest gently on his, stilling his movements. His eyes meet yours. Hesitant. Guarded. Unsure of what you're playing at. Your hand tightens gently around his as you step forward, and he tenses as if he might run. 

You reach up, and pull him down into your arms. He stiffens for a moment, he's already hanging on by a thread, but he can't help it, it's you. Instinct takes over, wrapping his arms around you and buying his face in your hair. 

You feel his grip tighten as the dam breaks, and despite his best efforts at keeping his shit under control, a ragged sob rips through him. 

You hold him as he cries, moving the two of you back to sitting against the tunnel wall. Eventually, the tears dry up, and he pulls himself away. He quiet for a long time, and looks down at his hands in his lap. He can't even look at you, ashamed and embarrassed. You didn't deserve that. To feel obligated to take care of him. You have better shit to do than this.

You reach up and twist one of the tails off his mask around your fingers, tugging once, gently. It draws his attention, and he meets your eyes, begrudgingly. You reach up and wipe the blood from his cheek, meeting his eyes again. "I'm sorry," he whispers, "I'm sorry, I..."

You hush him gently and sit up on your knees. Taking his face in your hands, you bring him down to you, kissing his forehead. 

He doesn't get it. Why are you being so nice to him. You got what you wanted, why did you follow him? Why are you comforting him? Why do you even care? He looks at you in bewilderment. 

"Tell you what," you say, "I'm not super comfortable with the idea of leaving you alone right now, and it's going to rain, and I don't want to get flooded out down here, so... What do you say we head back to my place. I can order us a pizza, and we can watch a movie, and you can head home once you're feeling a bit more sober stable..." You smile, you hope persuasively. 

"Yeah... Okay..." He says, as you help him to his feet. You aren't wrong. It is going to rain, and as fucked up as he is, traversing this set of tunnels in particular will be a little iffy if the storm drains start to flood. 

You bring him home. You do exactly as you say. Pizza. Movie. Ice cream for good measure. He's not sure what to do. He's usually the one doing the entertaining, and now here you are making sure he was happy and comfortable. 

It takes time, but by the end of the movie, Mikey's mostly sobered up, both physically and emotionally. You even get a genuine smile out of him as sunrise looms and he begins to make his way out. 

"So... thanks... for this," he says, looking at you softly. It was probably the nicest thing anyone had ever done for him.

You smile, walking him to the window. "Anytime," you say, taking his hand and turning to face him as you come to the window, "and I mean that. Next time you get into that headspace will you do me a favor and try to reach for a phone instead of a bottle?" 

He smirks, nodding, "no promises, but I'll try."

"Thank you," you say as he reaches for the window. You touch his arm, gently "hey, one last thing," he steps back from the window to face you, and you stand up on your tiptoes and kiss him softly. It's simple, sweet, honest, "there's no reason you can't have what Sarah and Ben have," you whisper, before pulling away. 

He freezes. He's misunderstood. There's no way you're saying what it sounds like your saying, because it's what he wants you to be saying, so there's no *way* it could actually be what you're saying... Right?

You watch the torrent of emotions play out in his eyes, and you reach up to tug n on his mask. "Sunrise, Sunshine." You say. 

"Sunrise..." He repeats before he blinks, shaking his head, "Right. Yeah. Sunrise. I, uh, I'll see you -

"Wednesday."

"Tomorrow."

You say at the same time, before you laugh nervously under his gaze, "If, you know, you're not busy." You don't want to have to wait until Wednesday.

Hope flickers in his eyes. It's tiny and buried under so much hurt and insecurity, but it's definitely there, "I, uh, yeah... I mean, I gotta work, but I'll be wrapping up around two... so, if you're still up..."

"I'll be up," you say quickly, and he can't help but smile as both of your faces grow warm and you laugh gently. 

"Okay... I guess I'll see you tomorrow, then," he says quietly, almost in disbelief. Is this... What? What is this? He doesn't know, but it feels... better. Warm. Comforting. The things you said, the things you did for him tonight, this... He wants more of this. He'll do whatever he has to to have more of this. 

You can't help the grin that brightens your face. "Until tomorrow, then," you say, and kiss him one last time before he slips out into the desaturated predawn light, and is gone. 

.....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[novankenn]

Small Packages (2)

Less than a minute later, a young rabbit faunus was helping Jaune from the floor. Her nose was scrunched up, and Jaune was pretty sure it was from his smell. Not bathing for a week, while sleeping in alleys, and scrounging for food in trash piles, would do that. Or at least he hoped that was the reason. He was pretty sure if she was against him because of his heritage he would finally snap.

"Let's get you in the back so you can get cleaned up, okay?" she commented, giving a warm smile, that look cute even with her nose scrunched up. "I'm velvet by the way. And you?"

"Jaune. Jaune Arc." he replied.

"Looks like you've been having a rough time." Velvet chit-chatted as she guided him past the reception desk into the back rooms. Rooms that Jaune was positive were only for staff, which seemed odd.

"Yeah."

"You can talk to me or any of the other staff about it if you want. It's part of our job here to be a sympathetic ear when needed." she offered as she opened a rather sturdy door. Inside which was a good sized room, with a large bronze wash tub in the center. "This is the bathing room. The privy is the last door at the end of the hallway."

"Thank you?"

"Do you have any clean clothes to change into?" Velvet asked, still giving him her soft smile. "If you don't I can see about get you an shirt, until your clothes can be cleaned."

"I don't have anything clean." Jaune embarrassedly admitted. "A shirt would be nice."

"Okay. There's a draw curtain for privacy, so wash up. I'll put a nightshirt out here for you."

"Thank you... um..."

"Yes, Jaune?"

"Why?"

"I don't follow. Why what?"

"Why are you being so civil with me? I'm a Kit! Worse than just that, I'm a MALE Kit! I don't understand?"

"What you are, makes no difference to me Jaune." Velvet replied. "I was raised better than that, and Matron Goodwitch does not tolerate the miss treatment of others, when she sees it."

"But..."

"Jaune. Have a bath, get cleaned up, and then I'll take you to the Matron." Velvet gave him an even warmer smile. "You obviously came here looking for work, so we'll find you some."

"Thank you." Jaune responded weakly, tears starting to form in his eyes. "Thank you."

An hour later, Jaune found himself seated in the Matron's office. The night shirt Velvet had gotten him was made of plain linen, but do to his size if covered him from his neck to just above his ankles. Do it not being meant to be worn by someone of his stature and ethnicity he was forced to keep his tail curled about his waist, held in place by one of his hands under the shirt.

"Firstly Mr Arc I wish to apologize for how you were treated by members of this Association." Glynda spoke, her eyes staying on Jaune, without the slightest hint of judgement. "Be assured that Mr Winchester and his house are being reprimanded, and in addition I have rescinded their recent skill rank advancement."

"House? Skill rank?" Jaune asked, never having heard those terms used before.

"A house is what we call an organized collective of huntresses and huntsmen." Glynda informed him, "And skill rank is a metric we use to determine a house's potential for succeeding in a task. Higher skill ranks can accept more risky assignments."

"I don't get it." Jaune replied. "How do you figure that type of thing out? I mean do they take a test or something?"

"How it is done, I would say is not of current concern for you." Glynda commented. "I believe employment is. Am I correct?"

"Yes." Jaune replied, adding, "I can't sleep on the streets anymore, and the shops don't want... you know. So this is my last chance to find something."

"I see, and I'm rather upset that you are being forced in this line of work, bigoted fools." Glynda responded. "So in order to help place you, I need to ask some questions. Is that acceptable?"

"Place me?"

"Yes to find houses that could use someone of your abilities."

"I'm not an adventurer, I'm just... just me. Can't I just get hired out by whomever needs and extra set of hands?"

"You could, but doing such without being part of a registered house, means the Association can not be involved when there are contract disputes."

"So if I don't join a house you can't keep fucking huntresses from cheating me."

"While I don't appreciate the language, that is correct." Glynda took a moment before continuing to speak. "I can tell you are not... fond of huntresses, and I assume it's because of situations similar to what you mentioned?"

"Similar?" Jaune scoffed, "If you call getting beaten, used as bait, cheated, robbed, and molested... similar, then yeah I guess."

"I see." Jaune could easily tell Glynda was very close to loosing her temper. "Joining a house will give you recourse against such... incidents, that you bring to our attention."

"And if it's the... house that is the culprits?"

"Then they will inspected, audited, and if the allegations are true they will be disbanded, and punished as appropriate under civil law." Glynda answered. "Now will you answer my questions?"

"Okay."

"Do you have any special skills, or abilities?"

"I'm faunus, so I have night vision, improved senses of hearing and smell."

"Of course. Anything additional?"

"I'm good with locks, can carry about three times my weight in gear, and do it for extended period of time."

"Combat skills? Magic?"

"None." Jaune replied. "I'm a supporter. A pack mule, that's all I've been good for."

"I see." Glynda clasped her hands before her. "I'll be honest with you Mr Arc. With you limited skill set, I will be difficult to find you a house..."

"Figures." Jaune grumbled.

"But not impossible." Glynda continued ignoring Jaune's interruption. "I will have my staff make inquiries, and until such time as we find you a house, or exhaust all options I am granting you temporary lodging here at Beacon."

"What?"

"I will also arrange for a small daily wage for you, if you can assist my staff during the day."

"You're fucking with me!" Jaune snapped. "I'm a Kit and you're acting this nice? You're up to something! Fucking Huntresses, can't fucking..."

"Enough!" Glynda raised her voice ending Jaune's rant. "I am the Matron of this Association. I do not play games, not do I tolerate what you are insinuating!"

Jaune's ears pressed flat against his freshly cleaned hair.

"Now it would behoove you to accept this offer." Glynda spoke her voice once again calm. "But in the end the choice is ultimately yours."

(Part One)

[strangenerdwagongarden]

The really funny part is the chaos of the potential misunderstandings and miscommunication that would then ensue especially if wanda didn't intend to keep things secret so she doesnt realize that her team doesnt know and if she doesnt really get the chance to explain everything all at once. Like Im imagining the Avengers don't even know that wanda isn't actually staying at the avengers compound right because they all have their own places and are off doing their own thing. Clint's back on the farm with his wife and kids and is semi retired natasha is splitting her time between her own apartment or wherever and spending time with melina, alexi, and yelana plus dealing with all the former black widows and stamping out any remnants of the red room tony is running si and spending time with pepper, Morgan, and Peter etc... none of them really use the compound as anything more than a headquarters for missions and a place to hang out or crash when a mission runs long and they don't realize that wanda isn't actually staying there either not until they're needing a place to lay low and wanda without thinking just goes why don't we go back to my house and since I ship agatha/rio/wanda we have wanda just casually mention that "it might be a bit crowded with my wives and kids home but they won't mind and nobody will look for us there" and everybody else is confused because what is she talking about ? what does she mean her kids?! What does she mean wives?!?! Just them being totally confused because when did wanda have kids? and why didn't she mention them? but also... when did she get married? and if she hasn't come out yet, they're just like, since when was she gay? and did she just say wives?! and this is before they even get to Westview and meet everybody so wanda is realizing just how little they know and decides to just take them home with her and give them the rundown when they get there except the avengers don't know about nicky or how the twins came to be and about all the rapid ageing and reincarnating into other bodies and all that so after the avengers calm down a bit they start figuring okay so wanda started seeing somebody or maybe had a one night stand in the last few years while they weren't around and didn't tell them she got pregnant and had a baby till now so they are expecting little kids if not toddlers until they get to Westview and are met with two teenagers which considering wanda is in her late 20's-mid 30's I think and the twins look like they're in their late teens which has them all doing the math in their heads trying to calculate how old wanda would've been when she had them. Just the thought of wanda happily introducing her kids to her friends as they are all mentaly spiraling into protective older sibling mode thinking that wanda was a teen parent which only gets worse when they recal that wanda was with hydra meanwhile wanda is oblivious and is just glad that the people she loves are all meeting each other. And imagine if the kaplans show up before wanda can explain but she still introduces them as Billy's other parents so now the avengers are looking at Jeff assuming he's wandas ex and the twins bio dad (which I guess is technically true for Billy seeing as the body is still Williams) and are fully ready to fight him thinking that he abandoned a teenage wanda while she was pregnant with the twins. I also think it would be hilarious if the Avengers meet agatha and rio and find out that rio is Lady Death and wanda gets her own. "What can I say? I like the bad boys" moment.

Or, Alternatively, wanda is purposefully hiding the kids and everybody else from the Avengers but is failing. Badly.

Like just imagine the team is in a meeting discussing an upcoming mission or something and wandas phone is going off and it's either agatha or rio or one of the kids calling because they miss her and want to know when she coming home or maybe there's some magic based emergency back home and they need help or maybe it's one of the kids schools calling because one of the kids is sick and needs to be picked up just something like that and wanda doesnt want the others to hear so she tries to casually excuse herself but she's not a very good liar so now everybody is suspicious that she's hiding something.

Or the avengers start noticing that she's skipping hanging out with them a lot lately like tony invites the rest of the team out to eat or to watch a movie or whatever but wanda has to be back in jersey because it's her week with Billy and she needs to pick him up from the kaplans so she's just all like "oh I can't I have plans" and just leaves so now the rest of the team is just like what the heck is that about?

And this just keeps going on little moments like these adding up making the rest of the team aware she's keeping a secret but they don't know what it is until something happens where wanda gets caught like maybe nicky shows up because he missed wanda or maybe Billy gets sick or hurt and Rebecca shows up with him while panicking because she isn't sure what to do like if it's something she can get away with taking him to a normal hospital for or not or the avengers are really in a bind and wanda has to call in agatha or rio to help or maybe something happens where the twins end up exposing their powers so the avengers are tasked with finding them or there's some big battle where the twins show up to help and the avengers are confused as too who these random teenagers are or why wanda is being so protective and tearing into them about putting themselves in danger until one of them ends up accidentally calling wanda mom in earshot of the team

So I'm a big fan of the mcu I fell a bit behind and have been trying to get caught up on the new shows and movies recently I just binge watched wandavision and agatha all along and I came up with a funny au where the avengers are successful in defeating Thanos and everybody lives nobody dies so like Steve doesn't stay back to be with Peggy and him tony and nat and all the rest of the avengers are still kicking around and it's like all the typical the avengers are a found family fics except the events of wandavision and aaa still happen but wanda doesnt die in mom and lilia alice and mrs davis are still alive and now wanda is pulling a Clint hiding her secret family from the rest of the team. Like I'm picturing it's a few months to a few years after aaa and wanda is back in Westview trying to make amends with everybody she's got Tommy back and she basicly has split custody of Billy with the Kaplans she's learning magic from agatha and the rest of the coven and her and Billy are even able to resurrect nicky like everything's good the world's at peace and the avengers are still doing minor missions here and there but for the most part they are each happy doing their own thing until just like in aou the team needs to hide from the latest big bad and wanda decides to take them back to Westview and the rest of the avengers are just shocked to meet the twins and everybody else