#but everyone still pitches in on laundry day (❁´◡`❁)

[arcadewonder]

[ ♬ ]

[luveline]

Idk if you've ever written it, but like, hotch having to save bau!r after she's been kidnapped and tourtered and shit and when hotch finds them, babes is BLEEDING and shit and like barely coherent but spewing the absolute most random bullshit to hotch bc their panicking and whatnot?

thank you for requesting 💌 fem, 1.2k

Hotch has felt sick for three days. 

He stands with his ear pressed to his shoulder, as though holding the ear piece further in will bring news of you quicker. His hands are up and ready, torch and firearm held aloft, wrists crossed. 

Morgan has to go in first. Morgan, because if you’re dead, Hotch will take actions that will disbar him from being Unit Chief. He can’t keep his head, not if you’re gone. His anger will swallow him whole, and he will do things that can’t be forgiven. 

His stomach churns, waiting, waiting, waiting. The sky is dark as pitch and the house they surround doesn’t stir for a time. 

Then, low and long, carrying heavy through the air like a sledgehammer to his chest, is the reed of your screaming. It’s a strangled sound, sobbing to begin with, begging as it ends. Hotch hears your, “No, no, please! Please! Please.” Your third please fractures into a writhing scream as the pain begins again. 

Hotch’s arms twitch, threatening to fall to his sides. You’re alive, but… 

“Okay, we’re going in,” Morgan says through the ear piece, clearly having heard the same agony as Hotch. “Right now. Team two with Hotch. Everyone ready?” 

You must have screamed so loudly for it to get through walls. That’s all Hotch can think as he follows behind the second team, the sounds of cracking wood and tight footsteps ahead.

He’s not in the room, but he’s down the hall, he can hear the fuss as he hurries forward. “Drop the weapon!” Morgan shouts, evidence of his own anger in the sheer booming volume of his voice. “Drop the weapon now! Drop it!” 

A sharper crack as a bullet hits something and a thud. Hotch forces himself into the room just in time to see a large, short-haired figure fall to the floor. 

You’re covered in red and purple and brown, blood in long lines and gushing from deep wounds, a mess of it. He doesn’t even know where to start, your gutted, exhausted sobbing like a knife in his stomach, your limp hands hanging either side of the strange chair you’ve been strapped to. “Morgan,” you say, audibly relieved and yet your pain obvious and electric as you gasp for air, “Morgan, you have to get me out.” 

“I’ve got you,” Hotch says, holstering his gun in one breath and by your side the next.

A SWAT agent begins to saw through your binds with a serrated knife. Hotch’s hands stutter on the metal ends of the chair, wanting to touch you but terrified he’ll put a hand in a wound he hasn’t noticed. 

“Hotch,” you say, and your relief is worse now. Like you aren’t covered in your own blood, like his being there has fixed everything. 

“Y/N,” he says back, holding your elbow carefully, “it’s okay, it’s all right.” 

“You have to get the straps off of me. I need to go home-”

“I know, that’s what we’re doing. We’ll get them off of you–”

“–I have to go home, Hotch. You have to take me home.” 

He knows that medical are close behind them, they’re coming in just as soon as the building has been cleared, and there’s more than enough agents to have it done in the next thirty seconds. He has to assess you in that time. He can take care of you. 

The SWAT agent cuts your last bindings and you immediately attempt to get up, gasping in pain when four hands push you down at the same time. “Sit down,” Hotch says, “Y/N, just stay there, just for a second.”

“No, no, let me down, I need to go home, I haven’t looked after anything and– and the laundry’s piled up, and–”

“Honey,” he says firmly, “I’m gonna take you home. I am.” He meets your eyes, panic and tears and concerning bloodshot clouding your vision. “I’m gonna take you home, but please stay still. Just until the EMS is here. Just so they can look at you.” 

“I want to go home now,” you say, nearly shrieking, grasping at his arm. It’s so loud in the room with so many people speaking that he’s almost glad for it. 

Your fingers slide down his sleeve and leave streaks of gore in their wake. Your hands are caked in your own blood. Done with his bargaining, you push up into his arms and get onto one of your feet, an incredible amount of force behind you as you get your way. Your knees buckle immediately —Hotch scoops you up and dumps you back in your chair, even as you cry and cry into his chest. 

“No, I need to go home, I have so much to do, I can’t stay here,” you whine, pain eating at your voice, your fingers weakening where they’re pressed to his stomach. 

“I promise I’m going to take you home,” he says, ducking to speak directly into your ear. “Do you trust me? I promise I’m going to take you back home. Please, please, sweetheart, trust me.” 

You hiccup, tears thick running down your cheeks, and orange where they collect at your chin, chest heaving as you border incoherency. “I do trust you. I– I trust you, I just–”

He takes a showful breath. “Deep breath. I’ll bring you home soon.” 

“All my plants are dead,” you mumble, blood smudging over your eyelids as you rub them harshly. 

Hotch holds your wrists. 

— <3 

He keeps his promise (though you don’t remember him making it, not beyond what Morgan recounts). Hotch takes you home when you’re well enough to be there, and he, done with pretences, stays for a while as you recover. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, more tired than you’ve ever been in your life, peering at him through sticky lashes where you lay in bed. 

He’s odd to see without shoes. “Nothing,” he says, misting the leaves of your window plant with a frown. “Just hoping I can bring this one back to life.” 

You’re not sure why he’s so worried about the plants. It can’t be judgement; he knows exactly why they died. 

Well. Whatever professionalism was between you is well and truly gone. You wonder what it is you said to him that made him finally snap, but it was nice to wake up with his hand in yours, and it’s nicer still to see him each morning. When you clear your throat and look at him longingly, you know without asking that he’s going to find his way back to your side, and kiss your cheek, hands smelling of fresh soil. He does it all with ease. 

“You brought me back to life,” you joke weakly. 

“I had much more help than the plants.” He’s been panicky around you sometimes since he found you again, but not scared. He tilts your face gently one way and then another. “You look pretty, but very tired. Why don’t you sleep some more, hm?” 

“Can I… I mean, do you think you could…” 

He takes your arm as he settles in to comfort beside you. His fingers begin to trace a gentle line down your arm, meandering around cuts and bruises. 

You close your eyes, hesitant of the darkness. “Are you sure I’m okay?” you ask quietly. 

“You’re home, honey. Safe and sound.” 

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

The Return

Batter Up Chapter 7

Pairing: Baseball player Joel Miller x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: After a month of being away from the game and the girl he loves, Joel Miller is back and ready to play. Warnings: smut, making a sex tape, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v (reader has an IUD), cream pie, also regular pie, joel miller's dirty mouth, wine. Words: 5,000

A/N: Thank you to my dearest @devineconjuring and her beautiful brain for beta'ing and being my grammar goddess.

Masterlist Playlist

⚾️⚾️⚾️

The crowd chants Joel’s name, lights flicker through the stadium, the ground feels like it’s shaking beneath his feet. He loves this feeling—the rush of adrenaline coursing through him, the loud crowd drowning out every doubt he’s ever felt. After three weeks on the injured list and another week rehabbing in the minors��a month away from the big leagues–Joel Miller is back.

He walks to the plate, digging his heels into the dirt and tapping his bat against the plate as he soaks in the moment. 

“Miller, good to see you back,” the catcher says.

Joel nods, and grunts an acknowledgment back.

His eyes settle on the pitcher, some young phenom throwing 99-mph with almost every pitch. Don’t worry kid, you’ll get old like me.

The first pitch whooshes past him—ball one. 

Ball two.

Strike one.

The pitcher’s keeping it a little outside, Joel inches closer to the plate, squaring up. The pitcher winds up again, Joel takes a deep breath, feeling the vibration of the bat as it connects with the ball. The crack of the bat reverberates through the stadium as the ball soars past the infield, over the outfield, and disappears beyond the right-field fence.

Home run.

The crowd erupts, the celebratory bell tolls as he rounds the bases. His eyes scan the club box above third base, finding you amidst the cheering fans, your arms raised high, that smile of yours lighting up his heart.

Joel Miller is back, doing what he loves, and now in front of the woman he loves.

__

You’re so proud of him. You wipe the tears from your eyes as Joel’s feet touch home base. His recovery wasn’t easy. Every week away from the game for someone as old as him means double the work versus a young kid just in the game. Forty year olds aren’t known for being pro athletes. 

With the long Labor Day weekend, you were able to take time off from work and travel by train to Philadelphia to witness Joel's celebrated comeback, which had turned into a legend after his grand slam. Suddenly, all of your worries are lifted away. The stress of telling your families that you're a couple, your demanding job as a column writer at Sporting Digest that revolves around the ebb and flow of games, trades, and record breaking moments–none of it matters now.

Your responsibilities at work have been stacking up over the past few weeks. Churning out articles on everything from college football predictions to analyses of NBA draft picks. When you were hired you agreed to not cover baseball, what with the conflict of interest and all. Now, you dream of the headlines you could write about your boyfriend’s triumphant return. 

You’ve barely been able to leave your laptop. Last week, you spent three days shadowing a tennis star at the US Open, scribbling notes on her training and the pressure of being labeled the “next big thing.” You’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone do laundry, go grocery shopping, and, most importantly, be there for Joel. You put in countless hours of work to make this long weekend possible, just so you could witness his big comeback firsthand. 

“Heck of a player that Miller is,” you hear the TV in the corner say. “He sure knows how to show everyone he’s still got it, doesn’t he?” 

You clutch his number dangling from your neck, you’re so proud of him, always proving everybody wrong. Well worth every sacrifice. 

__

The Liberties win, 4-0, all thanks to Joel’s grand slam in the first inning. Sports radio is going to have a field day with this. 

You make your way down to the stadium’s corridors, where staff rush around with more important tasks than yours. 

The Liberties clubhouse sits just ahead of you, the two large blue doors stay closed to onlookers. You rest your back against the cold cinder block wall and send Joel a text, telling him to take his time.

A year ago, you never could’ve imagined this. Joel Miller—rugged, no-nonsense baseball star, the man who occupied your teenage dreams—now your boyfriend. The man who keeps your favorite pasta sauce in his pantry. The man who goes mattress shopping with you. It feels surreal, yet so real at the same time.

Every time that damn blue door opens your heart skips a beat, hoping you’ll find Joel walking out. False alarm after false alarm. 

Until…

Joel emerges, hair slicked back, wearing a gray Liberties shirt, khaki pants, and those cheesy white New Balance sneakers you tease him relentlessly about. Joel, you’re way too rich to be wearing these damn ragged shoes. 

“Hi baby,” he smiles as he wraps his arms around you, pushing you further against the wall. 

“Hi,” you breathlessly respond, smelling the body wash on his skin. Damn, he showered. “Good game.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

You can’t help but smile at how happy he is, back where he belongs, doing what he loves.

“Come on,” he says, pulling you close. “Let’s go celebrate.” His arm stays around your waist as he leads you through the corridors to his car.

It’s so freeing now, being able to cheer for—and love—Joel out in the open, for all eyes to see.

__

“You know you made me cry today, right?” you say, reaching for his hand resting on your thigh.

“I did, huh?” he replies with a smirk on his face.

He always looks so confident as he drives. Philly’s narrow streets, filled with potholes and pedestrians, are nothing like Austin’s, but he navigates them as effortlessly as he does everything else—injuries, tough teammates, media storms. He handles it all like he handles a fastball: with ease.

“Yeah, I’m really proud of you,” you tell him softly, grabbing his hand harder. “I know I’ve said it a hundred times, but I’m just so happy to be here for you.”

He smiles that quiet Joel smile. “That’s how I feel watching you handle everything too.”

"So, where are we headed?" you ask, noticing you're not on the route to his apartment. “I hope I’m dressed okay,” you say, looking down at your simple red gingham dress. 

"It’s a surprise. You’ll be fine, you look beautiful baby," he says.

The car winds through the city. You glance over, watching the city lights flicker across his face as the car turns off the main road, slipping into a quieter neighborhood.

The car pulls up to a small, unassuming brick building tucked away on a quiet side street. No flashy sign, no valet—just a discreet, vintage lantern hangs above the door. It’s definitely a place Joel prefers. 

He turns off the car and turns to you, his hand still resting on your thigh. “Thought we’d keep it low-key,” his deep voice rumbles in the quiet of the car.

You nod, your smile widening. “Perfect.”

He steps out of the car and, ever the gentleman, comes around to open your door before guiding you toward the entrance. You wrap your arm around his, leaning into his warmth as he leads you inside.

—

“Mr. Miller, welcome to Vetri Cucina. We’re happy to have you here. Let me show you to your table.”

“Silvio," Joel says with a firm handshake. "Good to see you. Thanks."

Your eyes scan the cozy space. Shiny worn floorboards, warm amber walls, a glistening chandelier that hangs from the low ceiling–you’ve never seen a place like this before. Little did you know that behind the unassuming brick row home exterior there would be a whole functional restaurant. It feels like the perfect mix of a place for the two of you, rustic and intimate.

Silvio leads you both up a narrow staircase to a private room on the second floor. A table for two sits in the center of the room. A red glass chandelier hangs above it, candlelights flickering shadows across the golden walls.. 

“So, we’re still hiding our dinners with each other away from prying eyes?” you tease as Joel pulls the chair out for you and you take a seat.  

“Not exactly,” he says, taking your hand in his. “I just wanted to show off that I can get us a private table at one of the best restaurants in Philly.”

You laugh. “I’m sure there’s a Golden Corral around here.”

Joel chuckles. “Very funny. But trust me—you’ll love it here. They’ve got all the fancy dishes with those French words you like.”

“You know me too well.”

“Better than you think,” he says, his eyes gleaming under the golden light.

—

A waiter approaches, a polished smile on his face. “Good evening, and welcome. My name is Royal, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. We have a special tasting menu prepared just for you, personally selected by our chef. It’ll start with an appetizer, followed by a pasta course, a main, and dessert.” 

Your mouth waters as Royal pours you a glass of wine. 

”Each course will be paired with a wine from our grand collection. Your first course will be out shortly. In the meantime, is there anything else I can bring you?”

Joel shakes his head. “We’re all set, thanks.”

“Wow,” you say once the waiter leaves, glancing around the elegantly set table. “I feel a little underdressed for a tasting menu.”

Joel shrugs. “I have a feeling they won’t care what we’re wearing once I pay the bill. Besides,” he says with a smile, “I like you in that red dress.”

“Atta boy, Texas,” you say, smiling as you sip your wine.

—

After a couple courses of delicious appetizers that you happily eat, but Joel barely touches, the water returns, presenting the main course with a flourish. 

"For your entrée, we have our signature dish: salt-crusted tilapia with a bread salad of parsley and tomatoes, alongside grilled artichokes on a bed of smoked squash puree."

You glance at Joel as the waiter expertly cracks the salt crust, revealing the perfectly cooked fish underneath. You know Joel hates fish and artichokes. The waiter sets down two glasses of white wine and disappears, leaving you both alone with the dish.

"Baby, what are you going to do?" you ask, eyes wide as Joel picks up his fork.

“Don’t worry about me. I’m here to impress you,” he says with determination before spearing a piece of the fish. He takes a bite, his nose crinkling ever so slightly as he chews.

“How is it?” you ask, biting back a smile.

Joel grimaces. “I’ve had better.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “Please don’t eat it. I know the only fish you like is fried.”

“Always been more of a Filet O Fish man myself.”

“I don’t think they’ve got tartar sauce here, so please, for me, don’t force yourself.”

He sets down his fork with a relieved sigh, his hand finding yours again. “Anything for you.”

When the waiter returns, he doesn’t comment on Joel’s barely touched plate, but you notice a subtle, appreciative smile as he clears away your empty dish.

“Well,” you say, leaning back, happy and full from dinner. “At least there’s dessert.”

“Never said no to dessert,” he chuckles, before looking you in the eyes with adoration. 

"You know," he begins, his voice low and serious, "I couldn't have done this without you. Coming back after my injury—”

Joel's voice trails off as he searches for the right words. His eyes stare into yours. You squeeze his hand encouragingly, needing to hear more. 

“It wasn’t just physical,” he continues. “It was mental. Wondering if I still had it within me, if I was too old, if it was time for me to hang up my cleats. But you—you never doubted me for a second.”

Tears pool in your eyes as his thumb brushes back and forth against your knuckles. 

"I’ve always been your fan, Joel. I’ll always believe in you.”

He nods, a small smile lighting his face. “I know, and that’s what got me through. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you smile through tears. 

The waiter approaches with dessert, you silently thank the interruption so you’re not left sobbing in the middle of this beautiful restaurant over how much you love your boyfriend. 

A familiar slice of pie is placed in front of you and Joel.

“Uppercrust?” you excitedly ask, your eyes widening at the large, glazed pecans laying atop the golden crust. 

Joel gives a shy, satisfied nod, his lips curving into that familiar, gentle smile. "Thought we’d end the night with our favorite. Had Sarah overnight it to the restaurant."

“Jooooel,” you breathe out, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. You stare at the pie, stunned by how deeply he cares for you.

“All for you baby,” he says softly as he lifts his fork and cheers with a playful smile. “Cheers to Austin and that hotel bar.”

You laugh, grabbing your own fork and tapping it against his. “Cheers,” you whisper, trying to steady your voice. 

“Oh my god,” you moan around the fork at the first taste of sweet pie. “I can’t believe you got this. You’re too good to me.”

He barks a laugh. “Baby, this is nothing, I owe you so much.” 

The pie is sweet, but your boyfriend is sweeter. 

The sweet wine served with the pie warms your body, Joel’s smile from across the table warms you even more. You sneakily slip your foot out of its sandal, and run it up his leg, making your way up to his crotch. He jumps in surprise, his eyes leer at you as he takes a sip of wine. Your foot finds its target, against the soft fabric of his pants, thankful for the white tablecloth that hangs from the table. He places a hand on your foot, pushing it closer to his crotch. You giggle as your toes wiggle back and forth, teasing him. 

“So, what’s next?” you ask, with a mischievous grin.

"Well, after we finish dinner, I'll pay the bill, grab some leftover pie for later...and then take you home and fuck you," he responds confidently.

A small hmph escapes your lips at the promise. “Is that so?”

“Oh, it absolutely is,” he replies, a sly grin spreading across his face. He leans in close, his voice lowering to a secretive whisper. “Just think about it—my place, those fancy sheets of mine you love so much…”

His hand wraps around your foot, pressing it harder against him. 

“Now you’re just making me impatient,” you tease. 

—-

The plates are cleared, the leftover pie is boxed up, Joel settles the bill and rises from his seat, extending his hand to help you up. 

Your fingers lace together as you step out into the warm summer night. Joel leads you to his car, unlocking it and opening the door for you. You lean over and seal your mouth over his, relishing in being able to kiss him out in the open. You pull away and give him a smirk before getting in and sliding across the passenger seat, your heart racing with anticipation for the next stop—Joel’s apartment. 

Your time together has been precious and few. Your career keeps you north in New York, Joel’s training and rehabilitation game have kept him busy and all over the states. But now, you finally have three nights together—the most time you've had since his injury a month ago. 

He glances over at you and winks before he adjusts the rearview mirror. You miss his truck back in Austin, the front bench seat allowing you to slide over and cuddle him close. You curse the existence of the center console. 

“Buckle up, baby,” he says with a grin. Your heart races at the double entendre. 

—-

Taking the elevator up to Joel's penthouse brings back memories of that first night together, when you couldn't believe how handsome he looked in that golden elevator at the hotel, not believing you were about to sleep with Joel Miller. Now, his body presses against yours as you lean on him, his head nestled in the crook of your neck as he leaves sweet kisses down your skin to the matching pendant of his number you wear, leaving a kiss against it before his eyes meet yours. 

“I can’t tell you how much I love seeing this on you, baby,” he says before licking his way up to your mouth, sealing his over yours. He grabs your ass, lifting you into his hold, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, your arms wrap around his wide shoulders. 

The elevator doors open and he carries you into his penthouse, crowding you against the entryway wall. His mouth moves against yours with fervor, deepening the kiss as your fingers tangle in his hair. You gasp against his mouth, the cool wall chilling your overheated skin. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath warm and sweet against your lips. “I’ve missed this—missed you.”

He turns and carries you to the living room. The ambient city lights shining in from the floor-to-ceiling windows light Joel’s way. He gently sets you down on the couch and slides his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you closer for another kiss.

“Let me show you how much I’ve missed you, baby,” he whispers against your lips, pausing to look into your eyes.

You nod, breathless and eyes wide. “Please,” you whisper. 

He grins, standing back slightly, taking in the sight of you sprawled on his couch, dress askew. “You look so damn good.” 

His hands rest on the hem of your dress and, with a cocky grin, he slowly lifts it up, exposing the soft skin of your thighs. 

“God, this is all I’ve been thinking about. Drove to the ballpark thinking about you, stepped up to the plate thinking about you, and, baby,when I saw you in the stands… all I could think about was you naked in my arms.” 

“Joel…” you struggle to find the words, already lust-drunk on his words. 

“I need to taste you.” 

He drops down to his knees in front of you, his large fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear and sliding them off.

You bite your lip as he grips your thighs and spreads them apart.

He breathes out a deep sigh at the sight of you. A low whistle leaves his lips. “There she is, she’s so fuckin’ pretty.”

He leans closer and places soft kisses along your inner thighs, teasingly slow, making your heart race even faster.

“Joel…” you plead.

He spreads you wider, warm breath teasing against your core. He licks a long, slow line from bottom to top, humming appreciatively at the first taste of you. 

Your back arches, a gasp escaping your lips. "Oh my God," you breathe.

His rough palms grip your thighs, thick fingers digging into the flesh as he holds you steady. His hot breath tickles your skin as he licks you. "God, you taste so good," he murmurs against you, his voice vibrating against your cunt. “Missed this taste.” 

His tongue explores you as your fingers tangle in his hair, gripping the soft waves of his dark strands.

Two thick fingers slide inside you, stretching you perfectly. Plush lips close around your clit, sucking and lapping at your sensitive nub.

It's been almost a month since he last touched you like this, and now with his skilled mouth and fingers all over you, your body is ready to let go.

“Joel,” you moan. “C-close.”

He enthusiastically hums against you, deep brown eyes staring into yours from under furrowed brows. His fingers pumping in and out of you as his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit. Your pussy pulses against his thick fingers, squeezing them as you bloom under the pleasure of finally feeling his touch. Goosebumps rise all over your skin, cheeks heating, legs trembling, and your eyes tightly shut… and when he curls his fingers upwards inside you, your orgasm crashes into you, your pussy soaking his hand and your voice screaming his name. He doesn't stop, continuing to lick and tease you through your orgasm until it's all too much and you're pulling at his hair.

He pulls back with a satisfied smile and kisses your inner thigh before standing and placing a kiss on your lips. You taste yourself as he licks into your mouth. His plush lips sucking against yours. 

Before you can catch your breath, Joel scoops you up in his strong arms, throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you into his bedroom. You giggle as he smacks your ass and growls. 

He sets you on the edge of his bed, the crisp white sheets cool against your overheated skin. He steps back, his eyes roaming over your body. 

“Stay right there,” he says as he moves to the closet, rummaging around for a moment before returning with a black camera and tripod in hand. 

Your breath catches at the sight as he sets them up, carefully adjusting the angle. 

The tiny red recording light blinks on and the little screen lights up. There you are, all disheveled—dress hiked up, your lips full and swollen from Joel’s mouth. 

His eyes meet yours. “Is this okay?” he asks softly.

You nod, excitement running through your body. “Yes,” you breathe. 

He grins as he removes his shirt, tossing it to the side before he steps out of his pants. He stays behind the camera, standing in the shadows like a director. “Go ahead baby, take it all off.”

You stand slowly, your heart racing at Joel and the camera’s attention. Dark brown eyes watch you intently from behind the camera, his eyes never leaving your every movement. You reach back and unzip your dress, pulling it down, as you slowly slip the straps off, letting the dress fall to the floor, the red gingham fabric pooling at your feet. 

"God, you're gorgeous,” he whispers.

You reach behind to unclasp your bra, staring at Joel as you let it fall away. Your breasts are exposed to his eyes and the camera, your nipples hardening in the cool air. You’re completely bare now except for the necklace with his number. 

"Touch yourself for me, baby," he instructs softly.

You smile, running your hands slowly up your sides, cupping your breasts. Your fingers glide over your nipples, teasing them to stiff peaks before you back up against the bed and lay across it, spreading your legs wide for the camera and Joel. Your hand snakes down your body, across your stomach, down to the apex of your thighs. 

You lock eyes with Joel as you slowly circle your clit, your breath hitching. His gaze is dark from behind the camera, his chest rising and falling rapidly. You can see the outline of his cock straining against his boxer briefs as he watches you pleasure yourself. Your fingers dip lower, sliding into your wet heat.

"That's it, baby," he groans. "Show me how you like to be touched."

Your other hand kneads your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple.

Joel steps out from behind the camera, moving to the edge of the bed. He strips off his boxers, his thick cock springing free. He strokes himself slowly as he watches you.

"You're so fucking sexy," he growls.

You whimper at his words, your fingers moving faster. "Please, baby,” you whine, “I need you."

He grabs your foot and turns you on the cool, slick sheets. Glancing over at the camera’s small display screen to check the angle of your body.  

He climbs on the bed and you instantly welcome the warmth of his presence and his broad body. He positions himself between your legs, gripping his cock and running the head through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Your breath catches as he slowly pushes inside, a smile lighting your face at finally feeling him inside you.

"Fuck," he groans, his eyes fluttering closed as he bottoms out. "You feel so good, baby. So tight and wet for me."

You moan as he starts to move, his hips rolling against yours in a steady rhythm. Your hands glide over the expanse of his shoulders and down his muscular back, relishing in feeling the flex of his strong muscles with each thrust.

He leans down, capturing your lips. His tongue tangles with yours as he picks up the pace, fucking you harder. 

"Look at the camera, baby," Joel murmurs against your neck. "Let's show it how good I make you feel."

You tilt your head, looking directly at the camera lens with heavy-lidded eyes. The knowledge that you are being recorded, that Joel will watch this later, that the two of you will get off while watching yourselves… it’s a new thrill for you. You moan louder, arching your back higher as Joel fucks you. 

"Touch yourself for me," he commands.

Your hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding your clit. 

"Oh god, baby," you moan, your fingers working furiously at your clit as he pounds into you. "I'm so close."

Joel's rhythm falters slightly as he watches you touch yourself, sweat glistening on his brow. "That's it. Cum for me. Let me feel you."

Your voice echoes through the room as you cry out Joel’s name, your body trembling as your walls clench tightly around him. 

“Fuck,” he grunts, his hips snapping against yours. “So fucking good, you cum so fucking good for me. So fucking tight.”

He pulls your body towards him, sitting up on the bed, his cock still buried deep inside of you. You take control and ride him, your legs wrapping around his waist as you grind down on him. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you.

“That’s it baby. Take what you need from me,” he growls.

Your hands tangle in the short waves of his hair, pulling him in for a kiss. Your tongues exploring each other’s mouths, bodies glistening with sweat.

He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting against yours, his nose bumping against yours. “I love you. God damn baby, I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” you moan as he thrusts up into you.  

He captures your lips again. “I’m close,” he groans against your mouth. “Cum with me baby. Give me one more.”

His hand snakes down between your bodies, his thumb finds your clit, rubbing firm circles against it as you bounce on his cock. 

You cry out his name as you orgasm, Joel’s fingers and cock working in tandem to push you over the ledge. You turn your head to the camera, staring into it as you chant Joel’s name while your walls clench around his cock. 

“Oh fuck baby,” Joel groans, his hips stuttering. “I’m gonna cum for you.”

In one swift motion, he flips you onto your back, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning across your skin as he chases his own release. Your hands run down his back, feeling the flex of his muscles with each thrust.

"Cum for me, Joel, I want to feel you cum inside me."

With a final and deep thrust, Joel stills above you. He groans your name as he empties himself inside you, his cock pulsing with each spurt. He fills you with his release, still gently fucking you with soft thrusts, pushing his seed deeper inside you. 

He leans over and grabs the camera, his cock still plunged deep inside you. With a sly smile, he films your face, capturing the bliss across it.

“Look at you,” he admires, “smiling all sweetly, all drunk on my cock and cum, aren’t you baby?”

You moan a response and nod eagerly. 

He chuckles as he pulls out, shuffling his body down to settle in between your legs. Joel positions the camera between your thighs, spreading them apart and running a finger through your cunt, swollen and slick with his spend pulsating out of you.

“Look at you, leakin’ everywhere,” he groans, collecting himself across his fingers and sticking it inside you. “Can’t have that, now can we?” 

His eyes stay focused on the little screen, watching his fingers pump in and out of your overworked cunt. 

“Fuckin’ filthy baby,” he angles his fingers, your slick squelches loudly across the room. 

Writhing and whining under his touch, your skin is overheated, your pussy radiating heat across your body. 

He pulls his soaked finger out, wiping it across your folds. “Show me how you drip baby, let me see.” 

A gush of his cum leaks out of you, the warm liquid runs down your ass, pooling on the bed. 

“Fucccccccccck,” he growls. “Can’t stop looking at this.” 

He zooms out, capturing your whole body in the frame. 

“Tell me whose pussy this is,” he instructs.

“Yours,” you breathlessly respond.

“That’s it baby,” he growls, before his eyes lift from the camera and into yours. “I love you,” he softly says, his eyes rounding in reverence. 

“I love you too.”

He grins, standing up from the bed and switching off the camera before placing it down on the bedside table.

“That was incredible,” you sigh. “I can’t believe we just did that.” 

A smile spreads across his face as he leans down to give you a tender kiss on the lips. "We'll have to watch it later," he says before heading to the bathroom. He returns with a damp towel and gently wipes between your legs, before planting a kiss on your forehead and turning to leave the room.

“Where are you going?” you slur, too blissed out of your mind. 

“To get pie. I’m starving.”

⚾️⚾️⚾️

Series Masterlist

[totaly-obsessed]

Love, Tears, and Laundry

Leah Williamson x reader request

-> Leah comes home to find her oldest daughter upset, leading to heart-to-heart talks and a plan for a weekend getaway.

-> Thank you very much @alotofpockets for giving me the idea and help through the process!

-> Word count: 2.500

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

While the Leah that stood on the pitch was fierce and stoic, a smile often missed on her beautiful face, the Leah you knew at home was quite different. Sure she was still fierce, but in a protective way, but she was much more soft than anything, so soft for her four girls.

At eight years old, Lilly was the oldest, followed by six-year-old twins, Emma and Olivia, and they were the light of the footballer's life, joined by you, her wife of course. Three kids of such different characters definitely filled the house with more life than it had ever seen before.

It had been a long day for your wife, a tough matchday with following meetings going over the game before everyone forgot what happened. Leah had been so excited to go home and see her girls again, but as soon as she opened the front door she knew something was off.

Emmie and Ollie sat in the living room, complete silence filling the house. Not a single little girl stormed towards her.

“Did you two watch the game?”

Silence.

“Oof tough crowd. Where's Mumma?” Tiny hands pointed up the stairs, grave expressions on their little faces. These aren't the happy little girls Leah had expected. Usually, they ran to the door, happy to greet their mother after watching her win on the telly, if they couldn’t be there in person.

The first room Leah checked was Lilly’s, who sat in the tightest corner of her room, one of her favorite books in her hand, granting her mother just a short glance, before she went back to her book, completely ignoring the defender.

This was officially the frostiest atmosphere she had ever come home to.

After going through the entire house she finally found you in the basement, sobbing while doing laundry.

You were sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of clothes, shoulders shaking with sobs as you clutched a crumpled piece of paper in your hand. Leah's heart sank at the sight of you like this, her own worries about the girls momentarily pushed aside by concern for you.

"Hey, baby," she murmured softly, kneeling down beside you and gently wrapping her arms around your trembling form. "What's wrong?"

You looked up at her with tear-filled eyes, the distress evident in your expression. Without a word, you handed her the paper, and Leah unfolded it, her brows furrowing as she read the contents.

I really hate you right now Mommy.

"Oh, love," Leah whispered, her heart aching for both you and Lilly. She pulled you into a tighter embrace, offering what little comfort she could in that moment. "We'll figure this out together, okay? We're a team.”

Seeing you like this pained the defender - what had happened that you were handed that note?

“What happened, love?”

She had now sat down beside you, pulling you close to her side. A warm hand stroked your back in soothing motions, while the other guided your head into your wife's neck. The smell was familiar and comforting, simultaneously hiding you from the world - even if the world right now was just the laundry room.

“Lilly and I picked the twins up from training, got ice cream, and then went home.” You had to take a second, sobs still wrecking your body, as Leah tried to wipe away a steady stream of tears with small kisses all over your face. “Emmie and Ollie put your game on, just in time for the second half, and then Lils started shouting at them.” 

The blonde defender had trouble understanding you in certain parts, voice still thick with sadness. Lilly shouting at her sisters? A hard picture to imagine.

“A-And then I stepped in, she stomped upstairs and came back with the note, and -” a painful sob wrecked your body “and she yelled ‘I hate you’ in my face Lee.”

This sounded a lot more serious than Leah had expected if she was being honest. “I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, my love. How could she? You’re the best mother there is!”

Your tears subsided, but there were still wet streaks running down your puffy cheeks, breaking Leah’s heart even further. “I’ll talk to her. Wanna get a nice, warm bath?” A quick sigh left her mouth when she saw your shaking head. She should have known. “I can’t Lee. Have to finish this laundry.”

After thankful kisses from you, and helping you up, Leah made her way back up the stairs, passing the living room, where Emma and Olivia were still sitting quietly.

“I’ll go talk to Lills, yeah? Are you two okay here?” Both blondes nodded, not even looking at their mother. “We’re fine Mumma.”

With slow steps she walked up the stairs, playing a full 90 minutes was much harder now than it was when she was younger. She didn't just spend all her energy on a pitch, she had three beautiful daughters to play with and to parent - that takes a lot of energy.

“Lilly?”

She didn’t receive an answer, but quiet sobs led her through the long hallway all the way to the end where the room of her oldest daughter was. The colorful, hand-painted door was slightly ajar, letting the blonde know that it was pitch black inside.

“Darls? Are you in here?” She was no longer in her corner with a book.

The sobs got louder the closer she got to the bed, and after a quick tug at one of the colorful blankets that formed a mountain on her oldest bed gave the location away when she heard a surprised gasp.

The room got quiet, Lilly hoping that her mother would just leave her alone if she acted like she wasn't there. But Leah picked her up from her mattress, still wrapped in multiple soft blankets like she was a toy in a claw machine. 

Her oldest gave a small “Eeek!” of surprise before slumping into her mother's arms. Leah gave her best to make it playful, acting like she couldn’t find Lilly’s face, tickling her feet and talking to her hand before she finally unraveled the blankets. 

You always liked to say that looks wise, your oldest daughter could have been Leah’s twin. The blonde hair, the fair skin, and the twinkling eyes that usually were on her face. She also laughed the same and possessed the same hard-working spirit, determined to be top of the class while trying out as many hobbies as she could.

But right now, there was no smile on her face. Her little face was all red and puffy, tear streaks still on her cheeks, while her eyes were still glassy. And in that moment Leah was glad that you didn’t see the girl in her current state, knowing that it would have broken your heart even further. Right now she looked more like you - matching sad faces.

“I think we need to talk Lills.” With a whine, the eight-year-old tried to bury her face in her mother's shoulder after climbing on her lap, but the defender knew that she needed to have an actual conversation with her daughter. As gently as she could Leah pulled the small blonde from her hiding spot, sitting her down opposite from her on the bed.

“I’m sorry Mumma.” Small hands wiped at never-ending tears until Leah gave her a tissue and the water bottle off of her nightstand.

“What are you sorry for, darling?”

Lilly had gulped down nearly the entirety of the bottle before giving it back to Leah, who just watched in surprise at how thirsty her daughter was. Seems like crying takes a lot of energy out of such a small human.

“I- I was mean to Mama an- and I shouted. Was mean…”

With a soft coo, Leah pulled Lilly in for a hug, small arms squeezing her as hard as they could while soft puffs of air hit her neck.

“Thank you for apologizing Lilly, but I am not the one you should say that to darling.” Her oldest nodded, she knew that, but she also felt bad that Leah now had to calm her down. And she knew that Mama wasn’t doing too good either, she really had been mean. “I know Mumma. I will apologize to Mama, promise.”

“Can you tell me what happened, that you said those words to Mama?”

Leah could feel the deep breath that Lilly dragged in, before she sat up, leaving her mother's warm embrace. She gathered herself before trying to explain what happened.

“Mama and I picked up Emmie and Ollie from training, and I wanted to go to the bakery, but they wanted ice cream. A- and Mama said, that they deserved it for training so hard, b- but -” She took a little break from talking, her voice shaky as she was getting herself worked up again.

Leah handed her the water bottle again, warning her not to gulp it down. “But I wanted a croissant so badly, an’ I’ve been training real hard too.” She really had been training a lot, also following in her Mother’s footsteps but more in the gymnastics department as football wasn’t her thing.

“In the car, the twins were loud, like really loud Mumma. An’ Mama told ‘em to stop, but they didn’t” Sadly that was a regular occurrence that Leah had no clue of, her schedule didn’t allow her to pick them up or drop them off at training, so the energy after training was something new to her.

“At home, I wanted to watch my show - the one with the doggos, but Mama said that we had to watch you on the Telly. An’ I already missed last week and before that.” The defender kept nodding at her daughter, making little hums, to show her that she was still listening without interrupting her story.

“Mama didn’t want to watch my new floor skill that I learned yesterday. Said she was too busy makin’ dinner and laundry at the same time. Then you came home.” Lilly was done with her story, taking deep breaths and another gulp out of her bottle, finishing it off.

“Thank you for telling me, darling. But when did you shout at Mama and give her the note?” Now she knew why her daughter was sad and needed to figure out why her wife was sad. So she had to fish for the little details Lilly let out of her story.

The small blonde tried to avoid her mother's eyes, which looked a lot like her own, just less red and puffy. “When she didn’t wanna watch me.” Slowly Leah could make sense of what had happened.

“So you yelled at her, that you hated her, and gave her the note before you came up here?” Lilly’s head hung deep in shame when she nodded, She really regretted what she had said to her Mama. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to go and say sorry to Mama? Explain how you feel. Then we can talk about how we fix this, but you really hurt Mama.” 

“Yeah.”

Hand in Hand the two blondes trotted down the stairs, where the living room was filled with a little more life than it had been before, but you were still nowhere to be seen. But the twins were quick to tell their big sister that you were in your and Leah’s bedroom.

“Mama?” The room was dark when she pushed the door open, gripping the handle like her life depended on it. When she looked back at Leah she just got a thumbs up with a wonky grin, trying to gesture to her that she should go in.

“Yes, Darling?" She could hear your shaky voice, it was so similar to her younger sisters, that it was almost uncanny. Lilly had also never seen you cry because of sadness before - aside from sad movies, while your wife kept laughing at you.

With slow steps your oldest daughter made her way to the bed, stopping just in front of it as she held her hands out. Tears started to form again in your eyes - Leah does the same thing when you’re sitting on the bed or the couch. She stands in front of you and holds your hands while keeping intense eye contact, letting you know that her entire focus is on you. And now Lilly does the same. She really is an observant little girl.

“I wanted to say sorry Mama.” Her small hands were clammy and warm, showing her nerves as she gave her best to keep her voice steady. “And I would like to explain if you’d listen to me.”

“Of course darling.” You had pulled her up on the bed and instead of just sitting and looking at you, she promptly pushed you into the pillows and cuddled into your side, her eyes still focused on your face.

The 8-year-old poured her heart out to you, just like she had done to your wife, who was now trying to keep the twins busy with little ball games in the living room while you and Lilly talked in the comfort of your bed. 

Leah felt like a creep as she pressed her head to her own bedroom door after giving you 30 minutes together, trying to listen for any sounds that could indicate more tears - but it was silent. With a gentle knock, she opened the door.

Lilly was sprawled out on top of you, eyes still open as she quietly whispered her gymnastic stories to you, while one of your hands brushed through her hair. Leah was honestly surprised that both of you were still awake, this had been a lot.

“Hi, girls!” Her oldest daughter sat up quickly, opening her arms, gesturing for her mother to join you on the bed. “Baby I wanna say something real quick, okay?” Lilly nodded her hair still a mess, no matter how much you bushe’d it with your fingers.

“It was never our intention to ignore you, or your needs and wishes - and Mama and me, we are very sorry.” A smile took place on Lilly’s face, she could see and feel that both you and Leah genuinely meant it. “Thank you for apologizing.” You couldn’t help but laugh at how much she sounded like her mother, with the same tone, eyes, and light smile on her lips.

As gently as you could you caressed her cheek, brushing over it with your thumb as your daughter leaned into your touch. “And we are very proud of you, and we are super glad that you told us - even if the way there was a little complicated.”

All three of you had to giggle but stopped abruptly when something loud crashed downstairs. “What do you think of me calling Grandma and see if she’ll take the little troublemakers for the weekend, and we’ll do something together? Just the 3 of us?”

The smile finally reached Lilly’s eyes again, as her grin mirrored that of the defender. “Yes please, Mumma!”

[strnilolover]

NNN - matt sturniolo - family issues

!Warming! : this writing may contain sensitive topics for some people, including family fighting and burn out. please read with caution if family arguments or arguments in general easily trigger you.

You had slammed the cabinet door shut harder than you expected to. Your mothers words cutting your skin like a knife, your patience snapping like a taut rubber band that had been stretched too far. “I can’t believe you just said that.” you gritted, turning to her.

Your mom stood across the kitchen, arms crossed, her eyes narrowed in irritation. “I said what I said. You’re always lounging around, doing nothing, while I’m the one keeping this house together.” she spat out.

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice rose as you turned to face her, incredulous. “I vacuumed the whole house this morning, cleaned the bathroom, and scrubbed the kitchen. I’ve been running around all day trying to keep this place livable while you’ve been sitting on the couch!” your voice raised more — you were irritated and upset.

why can’t she just see how hard you work?

“And yet, the laundry is still sitting in the basket, isn’t it?” she shot back, her tone sharp and cutting. “You can’t even finish one thing properly!” her own hands slammed against the counter as her words left her lips.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, shaking. “I can’t do everything! I’m one person! You don’t even notice the things I do unless there’s something left undone.” you could feel the tears brimming in your eyes — but you couldn’t let her see she was affecting you, you had to be strong.

“Oh, poor you,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Life is so hard for you, isn’t it? You act like you’re doing me some huge favor by cleaning, but you live here too. It’s your responsibility.”

You stared at her, your chest heaving. “Do you even hear yourself? I am doing my part, and then some! You’re the one who doesn’t lift a finger but still complains that nothing’s good enough.” you choked out.

Her face twisted in anger. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that. You have no idea what I deal with every day, keeping this house running and keeping you in it!” she screamed, coming around the counter and getting closer to you,

“Keeping me in it? Are you serious right now?” you echoed, your voice trembling more with disbelief and hurt. “You act like I’m some freeloader who doesn’t contribute. I’m breaking my back trying to help you, and all you do is tear me down!” Your said. “And on top of everything, I worked a full shift this morning. What more do you want from me?”

you were trying, you really were. Did she not see that?

Her scoff was sharp, cutting through the room. “Oh, sure. You do barely the minimum and expect a medal. Maybe if you spent less time pretending to help and more time actually contributing, I wouldn’t have to ask you for money all the time!” she was almost in your face now, you could feel her breath fanning you.

You stared at her, your hands trembling with frustration as you leaned back a little. “Are you seriously throwing that in my face? Every time you ask me for money, I give it to you. Every single time. Do you even know how hard it is to keep my job and still manage everything at home?”

She shook her head. “Don’t act like you’re some kind of saint,” she snapped. “You live here. It’s your responsibility to pitch in. Or do you think you’re entitled to a free ride?”

“I do pitch in! I’m doing everything! I pay bills when you’re short, I clean up after everyone, and I still go to work to make sure I can cover my own expenses. What do you even do besides sit there and criticize me?” you snapped back, leaning forward from your leaned back position — though that might not have been the best idea.

Her nostrils flared as her eyes turned dark, and she jabbed a finger at your chest — the force digging into your skin making you wince slightly. “Don’t you dare take that tone with me. I’ve sacrificed everything for this family, and all I ask is for you to pull your weight.”

“Pull my weight?” you repeated, your body beginning to tremble more from your overwhelmed emotions. “I’ve been carrying this house on my back, and you know it! But sure, let’s pretend I’m the problem. It’s easier for you, isn’t it?” you sniffled slightly, the words barely making it past your lips and you tried to keep it together.

“You know what?” she snapped, throwing her hands up. “If you hate it here so much, then maybe you shouldn’t come back. Go find somewhere else to stay if you think you’ve got it so bad.”

Her words stung, piercing deeper than you expected. “Fine,” you said, your voice cold and steady despite the tears beginning to spill over your waterline. “I will.”

Grabbing your keys and slipping on your shoes, you muttered under your breath, “Maybe you’ll finally notice how much I actually do when I’m not here to do it anymore.”

“Don’t come crying to me when you realize how easy you have it,” she called out as you slammed the door behind you.

The cold night air hit your face, mingling with the tears that spilled over as you made your way to your car. Your hands were shaking so badly that it took three tries to get the keys into the ignition.

You barely registered the drive to Matt’s house, your mind replaying the fight over and over like a broken record. By the time you reached his front door, your tears were coming harder, the lump in your throat so heavy it hurt to swallow.

You hadn’t even raised your hand to knock when the door opened. Matt stood there in sweatpants and a hoodie, his hair tousled like he’d been lying down, but his entire demeanor shifted the moment he saw you. His brows furrowed in concern as his eyes scanned your tear-streaked face.

“Baby,” he said softly, stepping aside to let you in. “What’s wrong?”

As soon as his arms opened, you crumbled into him. The second you felt his warmth and smelled the familiar scent of his cologne — something woodsy and comforting — you broke down completely. Your hands clutched at his hoodie as your sobs wracked your body.

“Hey, hey,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just let it out.”

He gently guided you into the living room, keeping you close as he sat down on the couch and pulled you into his lap. His large hands rubbed soothing circles on your back while his other hand cradled the back of your head.

“I-I can’t do it anymore, Matt,” you finally managed to choke out between sobs. “She doesn’t see anything I do. She doesn’t care. She just — she just keeps tearing me down.”

“Who?” he asked softly, leaning back just enough to look at you. His hand moved to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Who’s tearing you down?”

“My mom,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “She said I don’t do anything, but I do everything. I worked this morning, cleaned the whole house, and then she asked me for money again — like she always does — and still told me I don’t pull my weight. It’s like… no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough for her.”

Matt’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening with anger. “That’s not fair. You work so hard, and she has no right to treat you like that. I’ve seen how much you do, how much you give. You’re amazing, and if she can’t see that, then that’s on her — not you.” he said, holding you tighter to him.

You sniffled, wiping at your cheeks. “It just hurts, you know? I’ve been trying so hard to keep everything together, and she acts like I’m nothing but a burden.”

“You are not a burden,” he said firmly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “Do you hear me? You are not a burden. You’re one of the strongest, most selfless people I know. She doesn’t deserve you.” he stated, making sure you knew his words were true.

“But she’s my mom,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I want to make her proud. I want her to see that I’m trying.” Matt’s expression softened, and he leaned in to rest his forehead against yours. “I know you do. But you don’t have to destroy yourself to earn someone else’s approval, especially hers. You’re enough just as you are, okay? You’re more than enough.”

You let out a shaky breath, fresh tears spilling over, but this time they weren’t just from sadness. There was something in his words, in the way he held you, that eased the tightness in your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He shook his head, “You don’t have to thank me,” he said gently. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He adjusted you in his lap, tucking the blanket tighter around your shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Listen, you’re staying here tonight. No arguments. I’m not letting you go back there like this.” he muttered against your temple.

“I don’t want to go back,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Then you won’t,” he said firmly. “This is your home tonight, and for as long as you need it to be.”

You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His hand rubbed slow, soothing circles on your back, and his voice was soft when he spoke again.

“You know you’re not alone, right? You’ve got me. Always.”

You sniffled once more. “I know,” you whispered. “I just… I feel so unappreciated sometimes. Like nothing I do matters.” you could feel the self doubt settling into you now — from your mothers words earlier. Were you really not doing a good enough job?

“It matters to me,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “Everything you do matters to me. I see you, and I’m so proud of you. You’re doing more than anyone should ever have to, and you’re doing it so well.”

You looked up at him, your heart clenching at the sincerity in his eyes. “You really mean that?”

He hummed, “Of course I do,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it until you believe me. You’re incredible, and anyone who can’t see that is blind.” And a soft laugh escaped you, he grinned, his thumb brushing your cheek. “There she is. There’s my girl.”

You felt your cheeks flush at the nickname, and for the first time all day, the tightness in your chest began to ease. “Do you want to talk more about it, or do you just want to relax?” he asked gently. “Relax,” you said after a moment. “I’m too tired to think anymore.”

“Good call,” he said with a smile, grabbing the remote from the coffee table. “How about something stupidly funny? Or do you want me to cook something for you first? I can make you those pancakes you like.” You shook your head, leaning into him. “Just stay with me.”

“Always,” he murmured, pulling you closer.

He put on some random comedy show, and you both sat in comfortable silence for a while. His hand never stopped tracing lazy patterns on your back, and every now and then, he’d drop a kiss to the top of your head. By the time you started to drift off, your body nestled against his, you felt a little lighter than you had in days.

© strnilolover

a/n : am i self projecting? maybe. but i’m not in that situation anymore and haven’t been for over a year. but please, if any of you are in this kind of situation, know that there is always a way out. don’t be afraid to ask for help. (i also wrote this on the bus without my glasses so i’m so sorry if some parts may not make sense)

[sirfrogsworth]

The (Almost) Flood of Frog Manner

If you followed me wayyyy back in the day, you might remember a flood ravaged our basement in 2012.

This is what I wrote about it back then.

It was bad. In order to show you a picture of it I had to convert it to black and white because the color version has a shade of brown that churns the stomach just to look at.

I am still traumatized from having to walk barefoot in that. And I still have a very vivid memory of sitting on the edge of my bed as the water started slowly creeping in and and surrounding me. It literally felt like being in a horror film.

I think my estimate of 6 inches may have been what it *felt* like at the time. I was pretty shaken by the experience and you can see why eyewitness testimony is often shite. Though I think our basement isn't completely level and it was a bit deeper in my room. I just remember my feet being completely submerged as I was escaping.

A few of the pedal casualties...

A vintage Boss Harmonist that had awful pitch tracking which is why I loved it. A Big Muff, because everyone needs a Big Muff in their life. A Fulltone Fulldrive 2 and Clyde Wah. And about 10 others I don't have a picture of including an EHX Mircosynth, Digitech Whammy, Boss DD-5 delay, and a vintage 1977 MXR Flanger—better known as the Eddie Van Halen pedal that made his guitar sound like it was in space.

Everything had to be torn out and washed with commercial machinery. My room was the cleanest it had ever been—scientifically speaking.

In the aftermath, while we restored the basement (another long story), I was relegated to my mom's "purse room."

To make matters worse our air conditioner broke and I have terrible temperature regulation. So I started going mad living in the purse room.

I was convinced one of them was staring at me.

And trying to murder me in my sleep.

So... why am I talking about a 12 year old flood?

The other night I woke up from a nap and saw this out the window.

And it was still pouring.

I started to hear a clunking noise from the basement and when I went to investigate, water had begun to back up into the laundry room through the main drain.

It was reminding me of 2012 all over again.

Except back then I think our pump was underpowered and unable to deal with that much water. And now that we have a much better pump, it seemed to be handling things much better.

I was also concerned because water was leaking in from the basement windows. I guess they were filling up faster than the water could saturate into the ground and the windows are not 100% water sealed.

Just in case, I piled up a bunch of old towels and bed clothes that were in the laundry room (mostly my dad's stuff) and made a moat around the drain that was starting to back up. I was hoping that would hold back any minor flooding if things got worse. I probably ruined everything, but I am still glad I did that even though it wasn't really necessary.

I also did something stupid.

I went outside to look at the area of the yard where the pump is buried to check on it. And I started to go out through our main garage door, but when I opened it, I let in a bunch of water. And that is where we are storing all of the goods for the next estate auction. So, not sure if there is any water damage yet. I was too tired from pushing out water to inspect things further.

I made a little video compilation of the not-quite-a-flood incident.

I'm very glad it wasn't as bad as in 2012. But this is still going to be a pain in my patoot to clean up.

[afewproblems]

Part Three Mean!Eddie Misunderstandings AU

Part One, Part Two, read on Ao3 Here

Thank you everyone for your patience, I am splitting up this last part into two (I know, I know - I'm sorry!!)

***

 The drive home after dropping Robin off was long. She had offered to stay the night again but Steve insisted she go home unless she wanted her parents to throw them and impromptu engagement party after she eventually graduates --Steve still winces when he thinks about Mrs.Buckley cooing about what sweet babies they would make when she thought he had left the other night. 

He pulls into the empty driveway and shuts off the Beemer’s engine; it feels criminal for the sun to still be at full force at this time but at least he's been able to avoid the heat for most of the day. 

And say what you will about the Harringtons, but at least they had invested in AC before skipping town without him.

Once inside Steve hangs his keys on the hook beside the door and heads upstairs to change. He just wants to crawl into bed, hide himself under the covers and sleep after the day he's had. 

Robin did her best to give him a pep talk after their run in with Eddie at Family Video but it had mostly consisted of her brainstorming how to shave his head without implicating themselves. 

It made Steve laugh despite arguing that Eddie's hair was his third best feature and Steve is fairly certain he would be second in line to avenge it next to Eddie.

Steve throws on an old pair of pajamas and a ratty Hawkins high t-shirt from the floor beside his laundry basket. He sniffs it dubiously and throws it on, it could go another day without a wash --it's just him tonight anyway. 

Alone again.

Steve makes his way downstairs and debates a frozen pizza or the leftovers in the Tupperware Mrs.Henderson had forced into his hands before he left their house the other night. 

He'd picked up a lot of recipes from Claudia and learned different ways to stretch an ingredient across multiple meals or even make a single meal last multiple days -with his parents gone so often it had been crucial for him to learn. Steve isn't even sure where they are at this point or if they know about the earthquakes. 

A small part of him hopes they don't know, because if they did and still haven't called or come back to Hawkins to check on him….

Steve quells that line of thought and tosses it into the little box in the corner of his mind. 

Don't think about it. 

Steve rolls his shoulders and opens the fridge before taking out the tupperware and grabbing a plate from the cupboard.

The sudden sound of tires crunching and an engine turning off outside has him looking towards the front entryway, it's definitely in his driveway, but he isn't expecting anyone?

Oh god…what if it's Hopper or Nancy? Another gate? If Vecna's back, they needed him. 

Steve nearly drops the plate in his hands in his haste to get to the door, he manages to put it on the counter before sliding over the hardwood floor as he stumbles into the foyer. 

Steve flings open the door to reveal a nervous Eddie Munson on his doorstep.

"Eddie?" Steve says, his voice pitched with surprise and concern, he looks around for any sign of one of the other kids, "What is it? Is it Vecna? Is anyone hurt?"

Eddie blinks, his eyebrows pop up into his scruffy bangs, "What? No, no man, it's just me".

Steve breathes out a sharp sigh of relief and lets his heart rate slowly calm down, but if it wasn't the Upside Down why the hell was Eddie here? 

Contrary to popular opinion, Steve wasn't actually stupid, he knew Eddie wouldn't just be here for him, he'd made it perfectly clear that they weren't friends.

"Oh," Steve mumbles, still confused, "did you leave something here the other night?"

Eddie tilts his head slightly and his eyebrows fall into the barest furrow, "No Steve, I just, can I come inside?" 

His right hand twitches once before reaching for the door frame as he steps forward.

A million questions nearly burst forth from Steve, what do you want? Did the kids put you up to this? Are you going to say it to my face this time? What do you want from me?

He wrenches them back, shoving them all into that same little box, and instead says, "yeah man," as he steps aside to let Eddie through.

Eddie grins but it doesn't quite reach his eyes, the anxious feeling in Steve's gut, twisting and cold, begins to build again.

All at once Steve is incredibly aware of the fact that he's wearing pajamas and a dirty old t-shirt, he's sweaty and tired from a long day at work and he doesn't have the emotional fortitude to be told off again.

"Hey, Eddie, listen," Steve fumbles through the words, he reaches up to pinch his fingers into his eyes, "if this is about Hellfire, I'll back off, I didn’t mean to," he stops and swallows, searching for what to say. 

Because, what did he even do? It's still not clear and the thought makes him want to grind his teeth.

"To like, interfere with your set up? Or, or, actually, you know what,” Steve's voice suddenly climbs in volume, "I don't know, what did I do Munson?"

Steve raises his hands from his eyes to his hair which he grips harshly with one hand while the other gestures wildly in front of him.

"Why are you here? Why did you come to Family Video,” Steve shakes his head and chews harshly on his bottom lip, “if you hate me, I don't understand why you keep coming around?" 

Eddie is frozen in front of him, a ‘deer in the headlights’ look in his eye, his mouth opens once and closes, but Steve keeps going.

"I mean, was this just some kind of weird game to you? Let's see how much we can stick it to old King-Steve? I heard you that night man," his eyes begin to sting as he yells, his throat tightens and the words waver slightly at the end. 

Steve grits his teeth to keep himself from speaking, from revealing more than he wants to, he hasn't felt like this since Nancy called him Bullshit in the middle of that crowded Halloween party and isn't that thought a punch to the gut.

Steve shakes his head and turns his face away to pinch his nose so harshly he worries it'll bruise.

"So," Steve whispers, letting the fight drain out of him from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, "what do you want, because I am not really up for whatever this is". 

Eddie isn't looking at him anymore, his face is pointed at Steve but his eyes are trained on a point on the floor between them, his eyebrows furrowed.

Unbelievable.

"Look," Steve breathes out, he reaches up and presses the fingers of his left hand into his eyes, surreptitiously wiping away any evidence of moisture, and gestures behind him at the foyer, "if you want something just spit it out, otherwise I'm tired and I'm going to bed so--"

"I'm sorry" Eddie blurts out, he takes a step closer to Steve who steps back without a thought. Eddie winces at the movement and draws his arms around himself.

Eddie seems to hesitate, his eyes dart over Steve's face and once towards the front door before his expression flattens and his shoulders square in one fluid movement. 

Steve's stomach does a little swoop as he remembers that Eddie nearly sacrificed himself to save Dustin, he wonders if his face held the same expression before he cut the rope.

"I'm sorry for what I said, I," Eddie swallows audibly and shifts his weight from foot to foot, "I was so sure of something for a really long time and it made me act like an ass". 

"Sure of what?" Steve says, his voice nearly a whisper.

"How much do you remember about me from school?" Eddie murmurs eventually, there's a slight tremor running through his hands which tighten their grip on the sides of his jean vest until his knuckles stain white.

Steve shakes his head, there wasn’t much, but by the time he had heard whispers of the name Munson, he had been dealing with Hargrove, and Nancy, and Dustin's attempts at rehabilitating a demo-dog --he'd had more than enough on his plate at the time to worry about some metal-head that stood on tables in the school cafeteria. 

Eddie's breathing stops and starts in short shallow hitching breaths and his face grows even paler than normal, he looks like he's seconds from passing out if Steve is being honest with himself. 

Fuck.

"Hey, hey Eddie, come on breathe man," Steve says sharply, he moves quickly, keeping his hands up ready to catch him, just in case, as Steve leads Eddie towards the kitchen. 

He helps Eddie sit down on a stool by the counter ledge and grabs a glass from the cupboard. Steve flits around the kitchen, distracting himself with getting Eddie water and a cool damp washcloth which he drapes over the back of his neck.

Eddie lets his head droop slightly with the weight of the towel and scoffs, muttering something under his breath; Steve's hackles raise of their own accord as he steps away from him.

"I'm just trying to help man, Jesus," he bites out, resisting the impressive urge to throw the other man out. Steve leans against the wall opposite Eddie instead and scowls. 

"Christ," Eddie snaps as he grabs the cloth and brings it around to wipe his face, "I said, I can't believe I thought you were a Grade-A asshole".

Steve suppresses a flinch at the title, the tightness in his chest returns at full force.

"Thanks," Eddie mumbles, slumping in his seat as the anger seems to drain out of him. Eddie closes his eyes, holding up the towel, "how did you know that would help?" 

He reaches for the glass in front of him, the slight tremble of his fingers the only remaining sign of Eddie's panic.

Steve shrugs, a small part of him wants to tell Eddie about the Russians.

How his sense of touch almost always helped to snap him out of an episode, whether it was Robin’s small warm hand on his cheek when things got too much, or a cool wet washcloth to wipe away the sweat from his brow after a waking nightmare. It was grounding, bringing him back to the present quicker than any other method he and Robin have tried in the last year or so since recovering from their time underneath Starcourt.

Steve’s not quite ready for that conversation though.

Eddie's watching, analyzing him the way Robin does sometimes and Steve realizes he must have been quiet for awhile, Eddie’s big brown eyes trace over Steve questioningly, but he keeps his mouth shut for now. 

"You want to talk about it?" Steve says slowly, changing the subject. He half expects Eddie to tell him to shove it and get up from the stool to leave, pretending this conversation never took place. 

He doesn't though.

Instead Eddie drops the towel on the counter and brings both of his hands to his face. He sits there, hunched for almost a minute solid before letting them drop back into his lap.

Eddie doesn't look at Steve as he starts to speak.

"I've lived with my uncle for a very long time," he says softly, the words almost too quiet for Steve to make out at first, "I moved in with him just before highschool". 

Eddie swallows and licks his lips, "I told you a little bit about my dad already yeah?" 

He raises his eyes to finally look at Steve, who nods again. It feels wrong to speak, like he would be interrupting.

"Well, he wasn't arrested till after I was in Hawkins, but I don't think I really felt safe until the day Wayne got that call". 

Steve's stomach abruptly falls into his shoes. 

Sure, Eddie's story about learning to hot wire had made Steve pause but he hadn't really thought more about that story beyond the ease with which Eddie brought the vehicle to life. He feels his chest twinge with shame this time and steps closer.

"Apparently," Eddie continues, slowly, carefully, "Billy Hargrove had taken it upon himself to tell everyone he could about me and my shitty fuckin' family".

"That uh," Eddie's wary eyes flick up at Steve once more, his expression tight, "that my dad kicked me out, woulda killed me if he could've".

Steve feels a chill roll up his spine at the words.

“And he wasn’t wrong, got all the details right somehow, even the one about me liking--" he trails off before wiping his left hand down his face while the right reaches for the towel again and begins fiddling with it.

Steve makes a noise, something soft and understanding, he takes a step closer to the counter, halting as Eddie looks up with open panic.

"But," Eddie continues with watchful eyes, "up until a few hours ago, I thought…you had done that".

And that is the last straw.

Steve doesn't think this time when he moves, he steps up to Eddie and before he can even open his mouth or flinch Steve has him wrapped in his arms.

It's awkward with Eddie still seated on the stool, his face pressed into Steve's collarbone, but he’s tense and Steve knows he's stopped breathing altogether. 

"I'm sorry about your dad," Steve murmurs into the top of Eddie's wild hair, and he is. Steve knows exactly what it's like to have a dad that uses violence to get his way, that screams first and asks questions later.

Eddie shakes his head once, an incredulous expression pulls at his brow as he leans back slightly to look Steve up and down once more before he grins sharply.

"Yeah well," Eddie hums, "I'm sure he wasn't planning on having a fag for a kid".

Steve pulls away abruptly, but keeps his arms around Eddie's shoulders, his face briefly twisting into a harsh scowl. Steve doesn't catch the terror that flits across Eddie's face as he stands up to his full height.

"Don't call yourself that," Steve says harshly, "and don't use that word around Robin and the kids".

He lets go of Eddie entirely, and begins to pace, "Your dad is a piece of shit, who didn't deserve you and Billy Hargrove is lucky he's dead," Steve growls lowly, he takes a deep breath and holds it for a moment before releasing it slowly through his nose, he needed to calm down.

Like he said, Billy was dead, and the senior Munson was in some prison somewhere where he couldn't get to Eddie anyway, and not every problem required the use of his fists, Robin's words echo in his ear. 

"What?" Eddie blurts out, surprise painting his face. He cocks his head to the side and narrows his eyes at Steve as though he's never seen him before. 

But there's a fire in Steve that has been burning for three years, ever since he tried to apologize to Jonathan and Nancy the very first time, and the flames burned even brighter a year ago when he stopped to take in Robin's pale, desperate, face as she told him about Tammy.  

"And I know Hawkins is shit, trust me," Steve growls, he steps into Eddie's space again, "but there are people here who believe that there is nothing wrong with you, got it? You have us now".

"I, I know," Eddie mumbles, he's still watching Steve with something akin to awe in his eyes but it disappears as quickly as Steve spots it.

"Thank you," Steve says eventually, "for telling me, sorry if I freaked you out just now".

It's quiet in the kitchen for a beat, the only noise is the steady tick of the large wall clock beside the pantry and the hum of cicadas from outside the kitchen window Steve had forgotten to close that morning.

Steve nervously chews his lip, he's ruined it again, his second attempts at being cool about someone coming out to him even worse than the first. Robin had been nice about it at the time -and admittedly neither of them could quite remember the bulk of the conversation, but he does remember telling Robin her first crush was a dud and sounded like a dying Muppet. 

So, he was two for two.

"You're sorry?" Eddie finally croaks, his eyes are larger than Steve has ever seen him and his chest stutters once as he breathes rapidly.

Steve reaches for the discarded cloth on the counter just to keep his hands from reaching for Eddie. 

"You're sorry?" Eddie says again, his voice barely a whisper, "you're unbelievable is what you are".

Oh. 

Steve sighs and blinks once, twice, before closing his eyes, "I know".

"Shut up," Eddie barks, "I'm the one who is trying to apologize and you're being so--"

"I know--"

"No! Let me fucking talk Harrington," Eddie shouts, and Steve feels his teeth click as he snaps his mouth shut.

He braces himself, better to get it all out on the table now, he thinks, let him say his piece and then they can all just move on -he can move on. 

"I don't think I ever understood you, how you fit in with this whole group," Eddie mutters, his face tipped towards the floor, he brushes a handful of curls away from his face as they slide forward.

"I mean, I watched you in action, you ripped a fucking bat in half man," he laughs but his expression is shuttered, almost blank as he counts off on his ringed fingers, "you carried me out of hell, you listen to all the shit the kids say when they tell you stories, do you know how many people would just tune them out? You cooked for my uncle, you--Robin is your best friend? Robin?" 

"Hey,” Steve says sharply with a glare, “layoff Robin, what are you even saying?"

"See!” Eddie throws his hands towards Steve emphatically, a wild look in his eyes,”that's what I’m talking about! Thats, it’s--okay it’s not coming out right," Eddie stands up from the stool but stays beside the counter. 

He huffs out a small quiet laugh and shakes his head, his eyes never once leaving Steve’s face, "you're just, you're not who I thought man".

Steve crosses his arms, wrapping them tightly around his midsection and the Hawkins high logo in faded orange print,"I thought we already had this conversation?"

"Yeah well, I actually mean it this time".

"...Right,” Steve sighs tiredly, it's laughable really, just how wrong he and Robin had been. 

All that time he thought they were growing closer, that Eddie had been his friend. 

All those small moments over the last few months were nothing. Just two people with vastly different expectations of what they meant to one another. 

Eddie’s face twists as the words tumble out at a mile a minute, "no, fuck, Steve, I can't, just--I don't," he grabs two handfuls of hair and yanks, hard, "I came here to tell you that I'm sorry, and I'm fucking it up.”

Eddie takes a deep breath before letting it all out in one smooth motion, "you're amazing, Steve, and I'm kicking myself for not seeing that before”.

He takes a step towards Steve but hesitates,spinning the rings on his fingers.

“I’m just, I’m really sorry and I hope that you can forgive me, that we can get back to where we were before?”

Steve feels himself smile mechanically, his chest tight and cold, he nods once and hears the words, 'yeah man,' leave his mouth. It's as though he's in a fog, everything feels so far away.

The smile Eddie gives him is brilliant, bright enough to light up the kitchen but Steve turns away and sweeps a tremulous hand through his hair. 

"Yeah, Eds, we'll see each other around, we're good".

Eddie's smile falters slightly, but Steve is determined to end this conversation, go upstairs and crawl into bed for a millennia,

"I'll put in a good word with Mrs. Henderson," Steve continues, gesturing towards the abandoned tupperware on the counter, "I think she'd listen if I told her you guys needed a place for Dusty-Bun's club".

Eddie's face falls slightly, "What, Steve--" 

"It'll be great, Claudia makes the best snacks and she honestly has a better basement than the Wheelers --but don't ever say that to Mike or you'll never hear the end of it," Steve says with a half smile as he walks towards the counter to grab the tupperware, he lifts it up to show Eddie before he reaches for the fridge door to put it away.

He's not hungry anymore anyway. 

"But…" Eddie whispers, the tone catches Steve's attention but he can't look at Eddie right now, he just wants to sleep.

"I mean, you could come, you know," Eddie clears his throat and moves, the sound of fabric and shoes scuffing across hardwood makes Steve finally look up.

Eddie is beside him, his expression equal parts wary but hopeful, his big brown eyes fixed on Steve.

I thought Hell would freeze over? Steve thinks to himself angrily before biting the inside of his cheek. 

They've just reached some kind of truce, Eddie apologized for fucks sake, he should just let this go. 

But there is a heat now that simmers in his chest, it makes him want to scream. Steve swallows roughly and pushes the feeling down, trying his best to smother the flames into embers before they engulf him completely.

If friendship is all he is allowed, then Steve can work with that, he just has to reign things in a bit. He’s been playing fast and loose with his heart for so long and that it's become a dangerous game.

"Yeah, sure, I can," Steve mumbles tiredly, "I just have to check my schedule, Keith's been keeping me on my toes lately". 

He shrugs and gives Eddie a wane smile before clearing his throat and turning away, "anyways man, I'm beat".

Steve moves towards the opposite hallway, he feels like he's escaping.

Eddie stands in the kitchen, shoulders drooped, but he nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He takes a step towards the foyer before turning sharply around.

"Harring- Steve," Eddie winces, "Steve, I also wanted to say we're sorry about the table, we didn't mean to scratch it all to hell that night and," he swallows roughly, "I can, we can chip in to…help fix it or whatever". 

But Steve is already shaking his head, the ghost of a smile on his lips, "it's cracked actually--"

"What?!"

"No, no," Steve cuts in, he waves his hand to sweep away the panic in Eddie's voice, "Sorry, it's been cracked for awhile, you guys didn't have anything to do with it".

Eddie deflates in obvious relief, he laughs brightly, letting the last of his nervous energy flow out in a cackle.

"Fuck man, thank God, I definitely do not have the money to fix that shit," Eddie sweeps his hands into his curls to pull them away from his face, "why's it still cracked?"

Steve shrugs, "No one's bothered with it before, easier to just leave it I guess," he breathes out sharply through his nose in something like a laugh, "I wouldn't know how to fix it if I tried, never been good at woodworking". 

Steve looks back at Eddie to find him staring, his eyebrows have pinched together and gone is the smile that shone nearly as much as the rings on his hands. 

"Anyway, I'll see you around man," Steve hums, he doesn't need Eddie analyzing him, seeing something in him that he shouldn't. It’s a dismissal, one that Eddie seems to take well, despite the stiffness of his shoulders.

"Yeah, I'll see ya," Eddie says softly over his shoulder as he makes his way out of the kitchen, back towards the front door.

Steve waits until the door has closed, until he hears gravel under tires, until he's sure that Eddie is gone. His chest tightens once more with hot blistering anger that builds in his stomach before overflowing into his chest.

It drives him forward, the anger, the overwhelming heat building up his neck and pounding in his head, he's at the counter all of a sudden.

The plate he was going to use for supper is in his hands.

He raises it over his head and brings it down in a satisfying clash of shattered ceramic that explodes all over the hardwood.

Steve stands there, breathing raggedy in a daze.

Fuck.

The floor is covered in shards of varying sizes, he realizes belatedly he's only wearing socks but the thoughts come slow as though dragging themselves through mud. 

Steve steps over the ceramic and walks to the pantry, he removes the broom and dustpan from the small hanger on the inside of the door.

Steve begins to sweep up the shards into a little pile, wincing as a few pieces here and there cut through the fabric of his socks and into the soles of his feet.

Steve doesn't realize he's crying until he sees the tears drop into the pile of plate shards and dust. Steve scrubs his arm over his eyes roughly and sniffs, his lungs stutter once as he chokes out a wet cough. 

"Get it together," he says sharply to himself.

Steve methodically sweeps the rest of the plate into the dustpan and walks towards the sink before opening the bottom cupboard and tipping the pan into the garbage can. 

He takes off his socks and examines the bottoms, there are a few small pieces of plate but no blood -Steve counts it as a win.

Steve leaves the broom and dustpan out and walks himself and the dirty socks out of the kitchen and up the stairs back to his room, his limbs feel heavy and the steady heat that had crawled up his neck has been replaced by a bone deep exhaustion that he longs to sink into.

Steve closes his bedroom door and steps towards the bed, allowing himself to tip forward and collapse against the comforter.

It's hard to move now, everything feels sore, from the tips of his toes, and the soles of his feet, to the top of his head. It's as though someone stretched him out between their hands and twisted and twisted until there was nothing left inside of him. 

He's empty and that thought is terrifying.

Steve reaches out blindly for the phone on his bedside table, he manages to snag it by the cord and narrowly avoids smacking himself in the face as the hard plastic swings into his hands. He dials the Buckley's home number by memory and waits.

"Hello?" 

"Hey, Mrs.Buckley, can you put Robin on?"

"Of course dear, but we are going to be having dinner soon so not too long okay?"

"Yes Mrs. Buckley,"

He waits, letting his pillow cradle the phone to his ear while the muffled background noise of the Buckley household trickles through the speaker, talking and television and laughter. It's a stark contrast to his own silent home. 

"Steve?"

"Hey Bobby," he nearly whispers into the receiver, he feels himself melt into the mattress at the sound of her voice.

"Steve" Robin grumbles over the line, "I just left you like an hour ago, what's up?"

He chews on his lip and the words for a beat, considering how to even tell her, "Eddie, um, came by".

"What?!" Robin's voice squeals over the speaker and Steve almost drops the phone as he jerks it away from his ear, "what did he want? Did you let him in?"

"Yeah Bobs," he sighs tiredly, "he, he apologized--"

"Steve, we talked about this, you forgive people way too easily--"

"I know, I just…" he doesn't even know how to say it, that a rage burnt him up from the inside out until he was nothing but hollow embers and smoke.

"Robin, I was so angry," 

"Did you yell at him? What did you say?"

"No," he pushes himself up from the pillows, just catching the phone as it threatens to tumble from his shoulder, "he left, he, we talked about going back to normal, he…"

"Steve, what the hell did he say this time, you have to tell me, it's like the platonic soulmate law--"

"He didn't mean it the first time, when we talked in the Upside Down, that he thought I was a good dude, everything I thought for months has been a lie," his voice shakes as he continues, "he thought I spread this awful rumor about him back in highschool and he's never forgiven me for it, but I had no idea and I didn't do it -I know I was the fucking worst back then but Robin I promise you I didnt-"

"Hey, hey, it's okay, do you want me to come over?" 

"No, your mum said you had dinner right away,"

"Steve, you’re way more important than dinner, that's so lame but it's one thousand percent true and I'll come up with something better when I get to your house, I'm leaving now".

Steve smiles as Robin hangs up with a soft, ‘see you in a minute!’ and sets the phone back on the receiver, he closes his eyes and tucks his face into the pillows for just a moment. 

Steve wakes with a start to the sound of feet hitting the stairs two at a time, he looks over at the red numbers on his bedside clock and squints as copper sunlight hits his face through his bedroom window. It's nearly quarter after seven now and the exhaustion that had held his limbs seems to have loosened ever so slightly. 

Steve doesn't move from the bed as Robin opens his door and pads slowly across the carpet. She says nothing in greeting and crawls onto the mattress. Steve shifts slightly to let her wiggle her way in between him and the bedroom wall.

"You asshole," Robin scolds softly, but there's still a smile in her voice, "you didn't even lock your front door, anyone could have come in here".

She wraps her thin arms around him from behind and Steve feels himself melt into the embrace.

"This have anything to do with the broom and dustpan on the counter?" she continues after a beat, "you don't really strike me as the sweeping type, it was like pulling teeth getting you to do it at scoops".

"Vacuuming is better" he mumbles into his pillow.

Robin is warm behind his back, holding him steady, and he finds himself reaching for her hand draped over his chest. The easy affection soothes the remaining burn in his heart.

"I smashed a plate," Steve says so softly he can feel Robin even shuffle closer to hear him. 

She's quiet a moment, but she doesn't move away. If anything, Robin seems to drape herself over his shoulder even more, wrapping him up in a cocoon of warmth. Steve swallows roughly and turns his face further into the pillows. 

"Nothing like a good plate smash," she mumbles sagely into his ear, "I think I read that in a magazine once, buy cheap dishes so you got something to smash when things just get too much," she pauses to sit up and turn him over to face her, "or maybe it was pencils".

Steve snorts as she mimes a violent snapping motion with her hands, and finally let's himself look at her. 

Robin's smiles as his eyes meet her own, but there's still a flicker of worry behind her blue ones that she can't seem to hide. 

And she isn't the only one who is worried.

This wouldn't be the first time he's acted out because of his anger. Steve would be the first person to admit he has a history of impulsive behavior, throwing himself fist first into situations before he can properly think it through. 

He says things in the moment he regrets later. Hell, Steve vandalized private property because he was angry with Nancy for christ sakes.

But this was different, it felt different. This scared him. It was like he had taken a backseat for a moment, disengaged from the world and came back to himself surrounded by shattered ceramic and a deep feeling of shame. 

He wonders, belatedly, if this is how his father felt when he would break things, when he would scream at Steve until he was red faced and shaking, when he would slam doors and smash the flat palm of his hand into walls or dragging his heavy class ring over the previously unblemished wood surface of his grandmother's table. 

It's terrifying to think about.

"You want me to stay?" Robin whispers after a beat.

Steve breathes out sharply through his nose, "I'm sure your parents would love that," he wiggles his eyebrows and attempts a lecherous wink, laughing at the squawk Robin makes.

She grabs one of the pillows and catches him with a face full of cotton batting, "Hey, for a fake boyfriend I could do worse you perv".

It starts an all out war, Steve lets her get him into a headlock before he licks all the way up the offending arm holding him in place, she lets go with a cry of, 'Gross!' and swings the pillow into his face again.

By the end of it they're both laughing so hard they can't even sit up.

"Robin," Steve says softly. 

They're laying on the bed, Steve with his head on the pillow by the headboard and Robin laying with her head closest to the end. She nudges his ear with her toe and he jerks away with a squawk.

"Yeah?" Robin groans as she slides her elbows towards her head to prop her torso up to look at him.

He lets his eyes trace over her, this girl who can make him laugh no matter what, who seems to read his mind with little to no trouble, who is ready to loudly defend him whenever possible.

He loves her so much.

Steve shakes his head, a prickly static charge builds in his hair as it rubs against the pillow, "just, you're just the best person I know," he says eventually, "don't tell Dustin I said that, but I'm glad I met you".

Robin mimes pulling a zipper closed over her mouth and flicks away the metal pull. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are suspiciously shiny at the tender admission.

"You absolute goof, do you keep onions under your bed," she snarks after wiping her eyes with her hand, she takes her wet fingers and wipes them off on his pajamas. 

"I'm glad I met you too, and if you want to talk about," she half shrugs and tips her head towards his bedroom door, "you know, the plate thing, I'm here".

She reaches for his ankle resting next to her elbow and gives it a squeeze, "God, all the hair on your legs, it looks like you have a second set of pants on".

"Can't even be nice to me for longer than five minutes," Steve mutters as he steals the offending leg to sit up on the bed.

"I didn't bring anything," Robin says suddenly, looking over at the glaring red numbers on Steve's alarm clock on his side table, "what's a gal gotta do for some food and some pj's?"

Steve rolls his eyes and uncrosses his legs and throws them over the side of the bed, sitting up while he's at it, "you figured out a Russian spy code with your little genius ears but you couldn't snag a change of clothes before you left?"

"Hey, you called me, I came running," Robin tells him firmly, she sits up and scooches over to sit beside him with her legs draped over the edge and their thighs pressed together.

"I know Bobby, I knew you would," he says softly as she leans her head to rest on his shoulder, the weight at his side is warm and familiar and pulls a smile at the corner of his mouth.

Steve lets his head loll to the side to rest on Robin's, his limbs loose as a tension he hadn't realized had been trapped in his shoulders flows out of him.

***

Over the next few weeks things begin to ease back into some semblance of normal.

It's not easy.

Steve ends up having to trick the kids into going to the old ice cream parlor where Eddie is waiting for them to make a separate apology for their last Hellfire meeting. 

Steve insists they're fine to the four sets of  disbelieving eyes that scowl at both of them, he and Eddie have buried the hack-saw and there's nothing more to say.

"It's hatchet, Steve," Dustin says with exasperation and barely concealed glee, “you buried the hatchet, sometimes I think you say these things on purpose".

"Oh Dusy-bun," Steve hums, reaching out to catch Dustin with his arm and drag him into a loose headlock, "I absolutely do it on purpose".

It's a little awkward, Will still seems a bit wary of Eddie, but Mike, Dustin, and Lucas obviously missed their Dungeon Master.

Steve can't help the clawing guilt that sits heavy in his stomach from being at the center of their little fight, but a small irritable part of him is envious of how quickly they all fall back into step with one another without missing a beat.

"This place is alright," Lucas says once they've all settled into a hideous lime green booth with their treats, "but the butterscotch is shit compared to Scoops".

He's frowning at the half eaten cup in his hands like he's tempted to toss it right then and there.

"Ice cream is ice cream," Mike scoffs with a roll of his eyes, he reaches for the cup which Lucas snatches back just out of reach from grabby fingers.

"Hey, I never said I wouldn't finish it--"

"You're practically giving it away dude, come on!" 

Eddie smiles and seems to finally relax into his seat, he leans across the table closer to Steve and Dustin and whispers conspiratorially, "What the hell is scoops?"

"Remember Starcourt?" Dustin chirps around a mouthful of Rocky Road before Steve can say anything, "Steve worked there, and Robin, that's how they met". 

Eddie tilts his head and frowns, his eyes pan back and forth between Dustin and Steve, "the mall that burnt down?"

Steve tenses, his right hand curls into a fist beneath the table while the little wooden spoon in his left hand threatens to snap between his fingers resting on the sticky table top.

Eddie glances at him curiously before looking back to Dustin who continues to speak, oblivious to the strangers around them.

"Oh yeah, that wasn't a fire--"

"Dustin," Steve snaps, more loudly and harshly than he intends, but it catches the teens attention. Steve shakes his head once and gestures around the shop, they're one of three full tables of people but even still, their voices have been carrying all afternoon.

Dustin has the good graces to look sheepish before scowling at the ice cream in his hands, "no one's listening--"

"Not here--" Steve manages to spit out between his teeth before all four kids are arguing at the top of their voices.

"Don't yell at Dustin!" 

"No one's even in here!"

"What, we can't even talk about this with each other now?"

"Fuck off Steve--"

Steve almost laughs, it's the first time in two weeks the kids have acted like their old selves instead of walking on eggshells around him, weighing their words carefully, avoiding bringing up Eddie or Hellfire and trailing off when he enters a room.

"Hey," Eddie says sharply, "layoff your babysitter alright, Jesus Christ guys".

And suddenly the spell is broken.

Lucas slowly puts down his cup and Mike rolls his eyes but seems to deflate in his seat, leaning into Will who frowns at Eddie slightly. Dustin crosses his arms across his chest and glares with a mutinous expression at the table. 

Dammit.

"Okay, everyone relax, finish up and let's go," Steve sighs. He reaches over and tugs on Dustin's ever present cap with his right hand while the left hand, still holding his spoon, snags a little taste of Lucas's cup of butterscotch. 

All of the kids start yelling again, but this time laughter rings out as the earlier tension melts away. 

Steve looks at Eddie who smiles widely at him, relief evident in his big brown eyes; he can't stop the small grin that takes over his own face at the sight, even if it does make his chest ache. 

They leave shortly after, the kids prattle on about some sci-fi movie that's caught their eye for the next trip to the Hawk Theater. Dustin argues that sequels never hold up while Will insists that as long as there are Aliens, as the title suggests, it should be just as good as the first.

Steve and Eddie follow just behind the group, Eddie slows down to walk in step with Steve. 

"Sooo that was a little…intense," Eddie says, it's phrased more like a question and the way he's looking at Steve, like he's waiting for an answer for why the air in the ice cream place seemed to shift. He reaches for Steve's elbow with soft fingers that curl around and press into his denim jacket. 

The kids have already piled into the beamer, Lucas snags the front seat since it's his turn --much to the irritation of Mike who 'never gets front seat dibs!'

Eddie swings in front of Steve slightly, letting his hand maintain contact at Steve's elbow, grounding them both.

Eddie's eyes narrow, just enough that Steve catches it, "You just…seem a little on edge or something".

Steve shugs and carefully pulls on a small neutral grin. It's comfortable, he's worn it before.

"Yeah man," he looks away from Eddie's concerned gaze, "it's all good, I'll see you later alright?

He keeps the tone bright. It's not his customer service voice, this is something he's carefully honed over years of sports injuries, smiling at teachers as they scolded him, or lying through his teeth to his dad after a particularly nasty screaming session.

It's light, and something he's never had to break out with Robin.

A small part of Steve was hoping he'd never have to use it on Eddie, but here they were.

"I gotta get the kids back anyway," it's not quite a lie but it's only three in the afternoon, and the words only seem to push Eddie a little further as his fingers curl more firmly around Steve's elbow.

"Steve," Eddie says again, but Steve is already pulling himself out of Eddie's grip, his hand falls away to hang limply at his side, silver rings glinting in the midafternoon sun.

Steve waves and makes his way to the driver's side door, ignoring the way Eddie's eyes follow him and the downward curve of his mouth.

He opens the car door and lets it shut, allowing the chaos of noise and teenage yelling drown out the guilt that followed him into the car.

"So," Dustin says from the back as Steve buckles himself in,"are you sure you guys are good?" 

Steve pauses for just a second before he blinks and puts the key in the ignition, "yeah, 'course man, why wouldn't we be?" 

Dustin is quiet for a moment, all of the kids are. 

There is a strange, somber heaviness in the vehicle as Steve makes his way down mainstreet. 

Mike seems off in his own stormy little world, glaring at the hands in his lap while Will looks out the window with a sad frown. Steve feel's Dustin and now Lucas watching him, their gaze enough to make him itch. 

"You guys just seem different," Dustin insists, he crosses his arms over his seatbelt and leans back into his seat. 

"You guys don't touch like you used to," Lucas says matter of factly.

Dustin snaps his fingers and leans forward once more to grab the back of Lucas's seat, "that's what it is! It's been driving me crazy!"

A dull ache throbs in Steve's chest as the kids continue to talk over one another, the volume gradually rising in the small space.

"Okay, first of all, I will crash this car if you all keep yelling," Steve barks over the four incessant voices, "Jesus, second of all, we don't touch each other--"

"Yes you do!"

"Um, have you met yourselves?"

"Jesus, it's like you're a pair of Octopuses!"

"If you're both sooo good why didn't you guys hug goodbye like you used to?"

"Enough," Steve says sharply, he signals right and slowly pulls off to the side of the road, letting the crackle of gravel fill the now silent vehicle. Steve grips the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles have faded to white to hide the shaking of his hands.

"Look," Steve sighs, he lifts one hand away from the steering wheel to scrub harshly over his face. It catches on the hint of stubble on his cheeks.

"I appreciate you guys looking out for me, but I am an adult, and I can take care of myself".

"What about when Max saved you from Billy?" Mike scoffs, he ignores the elbow that Will throws into his side. 

"Or when Erica and I had to rescue you and Robin from the Russians?" Dustin challenges with equal ferocity. 

"That was different," Steve says with a scowl and a roll of his eyes, "I only got into those situations because I was looking out for you shitheads--"

"Exactly!!" Dustin crows with a smirk.

"Us shitheads stick together!" He raises his eyebrow like he's already won the argument and crosses his arms over his chest. 

Steve sighs and lets his head tip back into the headrest, he looks into the rear view mirror at the three sets of eyes staring back at him before tipping his face to the side to see Lucas's unwavering gaze from the passenger seat. 

"If I promise you guys that everything is fine for now, you'll drop it?"

The kids are quiet for a moment before Will says, "Party meeting, plug your ears Steve".

Steve considers just putting the car back into drive and continuing on their way, ignoring the ridiculous request. 

But it's Will, and the youngest Buyers has finally realized his ability to weaponize his big hazel eyes and bowl cut to get whatever he wants.

"How is this my life," Steve mutters under his breath but does as he's asked. 

He raises his hands to cup over his ears, muting the following low chatter around him. Steve hums a few bars of Dancing in the Dark to make whatever they're saying even more indistinguishable, because he's a damn good babysitter, before Lucas taps his elbow.

Steve shifts in the driver's seat, turning so he can see all of the beaming faces staring back at him. He feels his eyes narrow in suspicion.

"We'll drop it," Dustin tells him with a smile that doesn't waver once as he looks over to Lucas and then Will, Mike rolls his eyes though the smallest of grins tugs at the corner of his lips.

"If you agree to host Hellfire again," Lucas says with a sly smile, holding his hand out with wiggling fingers for Will to match the corresponding move with his own confident hand. 

"Guys…"

"Come on Steve, you've got the best place for it and we'll make sure you have a good time!" Dustin leans across Mike who huffs and pushes him away, it doesn’t stop Dustin from clasping Steve’s driver's seat with his hands and squeezing the leather by Steve’s shoulder.

Steve holds in a scoff, doubting that they can really guarantee such a thing, especially if Eddie and the other Hellfire members will be there, but the kids are all doing their best impression of the youngest Wheeler, Holly, when she begs for piggyback rides.

"Fine," Steve huffs out, he feels a small smile pull at the corner of his mouth as the kids cheer. 

"Yeah, yeah, if you really want to make me happy, one of you should learn to fuckin' drive".

Taglist: @zerokrox-blog @samcoxramblings @thosemessyvibes @liketheocean @vampireinthesun @themostunoriginalpersonever @merricatty @hyperfixationgoddess @hippieg1rl420

And thank you to @flowercrowngods for your encouragement, I hope the stobin fluff makes up for this not being finished yet!

[the-phantom-author]

the babies are DEFINITELY trying to mimic certain words they hear from hasan and u!!!! “ball” (because u mentioned it in my ask about bringing them to disney and them trying to say it)

they’re 100% trying to say “mama” and “baba” but they’re so little it’s still just “ma” “mmmmmmmm” long m sounds 🥹🥹 and “ba” but they def get the hang of “baba” faster.

you and hasan are always talking to them, sometimes in a higher pitched voice like baby talk but you guys don’t try and change your vocab since it’s better to not refer to certain things as what a kid might say vs what it actually is (baba vs bottle) hall are always telling them what things are and doing so much to teach them and why am i crying over this (it’s because a lot of parents don’t make sure their kids are adequately learning but that’s wayyyy besides the point)

and you two look forward to their bedtime each night because you read to them🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

Yes, the twins totally try to mimic words they hear. Especially when it's stiff you and Hasan say. However, everyone around them talks out loud so much, that they end up trying to mimic everyone. And everyone has such different way of talking to them.

You do the most normal thing, and just over explain what it is your doing when around them. Weather that's just making dinner, or folding laundry, or when you work and they are near.

It is not unusual to find Hasan reading a journal or a study to the twins. You will also see him talking to the twins about those readings as if they chat, and he's explaining what the study means and how he views it. Ect, ect. The twins actually really enjoy it.

Austin is very much the story aunt. He likes to read to them all of the childrens books, it's actually one of his favorite things to do with the twins. You can find him at anytime if the day, in the nursery reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar, and The Rainbow Fish. Be warned, he may add his own twist to these stories. Uncle Will however makes up his own stories to tell the twins. In the same way that Austin likes to tell them stories, Will does as well. But Will will make them up as he goes. Sometimes they are about some space wizard, other time they are about himself and Hasan. Anyways the boys are entertained for days with Will.

QT asks them so many questions. She is their godmother, so she's often one of the people who will watch over them, to give you and/or Hasan a little break. And she's always going "and what are we going to do today?". Not to mention anytime they are in the same room as her and she asks a question, she waiting for them to make a noise before she moves on.

[fr0gggy22]

Ghost ~ Reaper

WARNINGS

Abusive relationship

Assault

Threats

MDNI!!!!! I will block you.

I was an Army Medic for the U.S. army, callsign: Reaper, when Captain Price noticed me and thought I would be a good fit for Task Force 141. I of course said yes, since this was a pretty huge deal; though my boyfriend did not like it one bit. He wanted me to stay home more, not be off in a different country almost every few weeks.

I had been on the task force for about a month now and have only done one mission, though I seem to be getting along with everyone, except for Ghost. I don't know why, but he seems to have a grudge against me for something; who knows what.

"Baby, you home?" I hear my boyfriend open the apartment door. I smile and greet him. "Surprised you are home. Thought you would be with the dogs."

"Don't Max, I work with them that's all," Here he goes again; he has this theory that I am sleeping with either one of them or all of them. "You know I would never cheat on you." Not like you cheated on me last year.....

"You sure about that?" His eyes narrowed and he dropped his briefcase to the ground before walking towards me. He gently placed his hand on my throat. My breathing got harder, what was I supposed to do in a situation like this? He wouldn't hurt me, right?

"I promise Max, I love you and only you," I assured him. He then threw me against the wall and tightened his hand around my throat, it was barely letting me breathe.

"Then why the fuck is your phone full of texts from all the guys?" His eyes were almost pitch black now, originally a dark blue. "Hmm?"

"Work texts." Wait... "When did you look through my phone?"

"Doesn't matter," He waves his other hand at me, and the other tightening even tighter to the point that I was wheezing.

"Max...." I pleaded. "Please don't do this."

"Do what? Hmm?" His hand tightens. I could feel my blood vessels popping on my face and numbness overtook me. This was going to leave a bruise for sure. "Teach you a lesson? Cause that's what you need right now. You need to know that you belong to me and only me."

Darkness then took over and I passed out.

I woke up the next morning on the floor and my throat was on fire. I groaned and got up; looking in the mirror you could see dark purple handprints wrapped around my throat. Fuck, how was I going to cover this from the guys?

Checking the time, I see that I am late for work. So I quickly get dressed in a turtleneck and head out to the base.

"Reaper! There ya are!" Soap smiled as he saw me and then noticed what I was wearing. "Why the fuck are you wearing that? It's like 100 degrees outside."

Shit. "I realized that I have to do laundry, all I had left." That was a good excuse, right? He nods, still looking a bit confused. We both walk to the briefing room where everyone else was that was going on the mission in a couple of days.

"Y/L/N, glad you can finally join us. Had Soap go and find you," Captain Price looked towards me and the turtleneck I had on.

"Sorry Sir," I sit down in the open seat between Ghost and Soap. My leg shook the whole time Price was briefing us on the mission, it was hard to stay focused. My hand kept playing with the edge of the turtleneck as I was now sweating profusely. Once the briefing was over, I scurried out of the room and towards the bathroom.

I looked towards the mirror and pulled down my turtleneck to see the dark bruises. Why did I let Max do this? I know how to handle myself and fight back, yet I let him do this to me. Was I that weak? I heard someone come into the bathroom and quickly pulled up my turtleneck. It was Ghost.

"Lieutenant," I nod at him. "I think you have the wrong bathroom."

"Tell me he didn't," He demands, taking a couple steps towards me. "Tell me I am wrong." He was practically pleading. He knew, he fucking knew. My eyes started to water. "Fuck Y/N. Let me see how bad." I didn't say anything and only nodded slightly.

He came forward and gently put his hand on my face before pulled the turtleneck down to see my neck. He inhaled and exhaled forcefully. He then put the turtleneck back and put both his hands on my face while I stared into his eyes as he wore his signature balaclava. "Please tell me you beat the shit out of him."

"I couldn't," I cried. "It's like I couldn't move my body." I told him honestly. I shouldn't be breaking down in front of my superior but here I was, doing it.

He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest, one of his hands around my waist while the other was cradling my head. "I've got you Y/N... I've got you, you are safe here." My phone then dinged notifying me that I got a text.

Looking at the text Soap sent, my heart dropped. It said that Max was at the gate and he let him in to see me. Ghost looked over my shoulder to see the text. "I am going to fucking kill him."

"Don't," I pleaded, placing my hands on his biceps and looking up towards him. "He is not worth it."

"But you are," My face warmed up at his words and I quickly wiped my tears away, getting ready to face Max. Once I was good, I looked towards Ghost and gave a forced smile.

"Here I go," We both walk out of the bathroom and towards the front of the base where I see Soap and Max talking, but as soon as Max saw me, his eyes narrowed. "Hey baby." I smiled at him.

"You forgot your lunch," He pulled me in for a rough kiss before handing me my lunch.

"Thank you, guess I was in a hurry this morning," I chuckle hesitantly.

"What were you doing with him?" He muttered into my ear, furiously.

"We just got out of briefing and I ran into him," I lied.

"Fucking liar," He hissed. Soap and Ghost were looking at us both, not knowing the conversation that just happened between Max and I. "I think Y/N is coming home today, she doesn't feel well." What? Fuck.

"I think she is feeling just fine," Ghost sneered at Max. Soap looked between Ghost and Max and then me, silently asking what was happening.

"Step away dog, go back to where you came from," Max grabbed my arm roughly. Ghost then snapped.

He grabbed me and pushed me behind him. "There are many who prey on the innocent. I'm sure your kind would agree." He looked towards Max who looked pissed as all can be.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were making a threat," Max stood his ground.

"Well, do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Know better."

[mia-does-nonsense]

Walkis Gang Headcanons - Charles Contini:

Warnings: None; Some slight manga spoilers

Being the only third year and the oldest out of the Walkis gang, Charles is the closest thing to a Responsible Adult™ this motley crew of madlads have. He has definitely looked at his juniors and thought, "Wow, thank god I'm the only normal person here" (No, Charles, no you're not).

Charles had probably one of the happiest childhoods out of the whole gang, because like I said before, most noble families (+ Innocent Zero) are shit at raising their kids. It wasn't 100% that great at first because Charles' father was a dick to Charles and his mom, until Mama Contini had enough and divorced her husband when Charles was still a little kid.

Honestly, shoutout to Mama Contini. One of the few good parents in the upper crust of magic society, and the one who introduced painting to Charles. Her only fault is that she coddles him a bit too much despite him being literally eighteen.

Mama Contini didn't raise no fool, though, because any household chore that needs to be done, Charles does it without being told to and without complaints. He finds it preposterous that there's guys his age and older who don't know shit about cooking, doing their own laundry, or cleaning up after themselves.

Whenever Charles visits his juniors in their dorms, 7 times out of 10 he gets an aneurysm because of how disorganized they are ("Do you make your mothers clean up after you at home, you pigs?!"), and kicks them out of their own rooms so that he can clean the place up from top to bottom. Galuf and Malcolm are the biggest offenders.

GREAT with kids. If anyone at Walkis needs someone to babysit their little siblings, Charles is their guy.

In terms of his magic ability, Charles is strong enough to have a Secondths. He just didn't get a chance to use it during the Tri-Magicathalon because 1) the rules of the Whack-a Mole room prevented him and Lance from directly attacking each other and 2) he underestimated Lance that badly. (I have no idea what his Secondths could be though 😭)

His personal magic, Vorp, currently has a distance limit. Charles can portal himself to anywhere in Walkis and is therefore never late to his classes, but he can't, for instance, create an effective portal connecting his dorm at Walkis to his mom's house. He's working on being able to travel longer distances via portals and is also trying to expand the size of his portals.

He has definitely jump-scared people by suddenly appearing behind them. Even though it's mostly by accident, almost the entire Walkis gang thinks he does it on purpose, and Charles at this point is too tired to correct them. The first time Charles accidentally portaled behind Galuf, Galuf let out a high-pitched scream, and no one has let him forget it since.

I have nothing to back this up, but Charles gives me dorm prefect vibes.

Charles is, in general, a pretty cheerful guy; you just can't tell at first though because his default expression makes him look bored to death at everyone and everything.

An absolute crybaby when he was in middle school at Walkis. It was his first time away from his mom, and the rabbiphone wasn't invented yet, so the homesickness hit him like a truck every damn day for like about a year.

The rest of the Walkis gang is pretty certain that Charles has some sort of pocket dimension in his, well, pockets because whenever someone needs something, Charles always comes in clutch with that exact thing. Galuf's dry eyes? Charles always has eyedrops at the ready. Levis, Lovie, and Domina's hair keeps getting in their way? Charles' got so many hair ties, it's ridiculous. Kenny's feeling more chilly than usual? Charles is already pulling out a handmade scarf. Anyone sneezed? Not to worry, Charles has spare handkerchiefs. And of course, there's his rabbiphone.

If there's anyone from Easton that Charles would actually get along with, it would be Margarette because they both have 'maternal instincts'. Listen, just imagine these two having brunch and gossiping about the shenanigans their rowdy kids juniors get into at their schools. Heck, they'd probably try to out-mother each other like it's some competition.

For the love of god, do NOT leave Charles alone in the same room with Lance ever. They will throw hands (wands?) at the slightest provocation. Charles is incapable of withholding snide remarks, Lance's Divine Visionary status be damned, and Lance won't hesitate to put him in his place. The siscon vs mama's boy beef is eternal.

[dancingcatsta]

HIYAAAAAA Just wanna pop in here cuz Rasta and Thor being pretty princesses off the pitch and also at home is so right of you and now I’m going insane/j

Cuz Rasta seems the type to love self care days (not to El Matador’s extreme tho) and often does it alone or with his spouse cuz as much as he loves the guys and the fans, he needs his well-deserved break

Thor however has to go through Batman levels of security checks to make sure that not a peep of his extracurriculars make it out to his team or the public cuz he’s supposed to be training on and off the pitch like bruh let my man wear his rose water face mask and listen to yoga music like he’s not hurting anyone (AHEMAHEMCrunchAHEMAHEM)

Also a fandom question if you wanna answer: Favourite SS Headcanon? It can also be multiple if you like!

-S Stan

Hello! I’m currently on the train back home and it’s going to be a long journey. Your ask made my evening. Thank you so much!

Dancing Rasta is a though man and we’ve excepted it many times. He’s harsh and he shouts experienced it many times. Just like a captain would. He’s too hard on his team sometimes and I think he’s just anxious about something not going the way he wants. I believe he is just simply afraid of things getting out of hand and when they do, everything happens just like in „Training Daze.”

I believe Rasta does love having self care days but it definitely took a lot of effort, both from his spouse and him. I think it actually could have taken even years for him to feel like he deserves to take care of himself! It’s not always a SPA day. Sometimes he is in the need of undoing his locs or maybe just mosturize his skin.

In my mind, you’re correct. He loves to have a good self-care day with his loved one, although it took a lot of effort too. He still don’t feel always comfortable while doing it. Dancing Rasta is an extremely awkward man with such an awkward energy. Sometimes he needs to be completely on his own and his spouse respects it too.

About Thor: Yes, until he’s done with the research, he won’t feel comfortable taking care of himself around his significant other. He is afraid of people judging him and it will take a lot of time for him to open up.

Time for questions? Time for questions! So here’s 13 of my favourite headcanons. Keep in mind? I love hurt/comfort.

Von Push Up has three daughters and eleven men-children

Rasta is insomniac with caffeine addiction even though he won’t admit it

Thor calls Rasta sometimes so does Uber. He is relatively close with the Tanks and every time Coach and Von Push Up talk, the other always ask him about DR

Thor uses „Noir de Noir” by Tom Ford

Dancing Rasta feels homesick even if he never talks about that. Once he retires, he’d live in his beloved Swiss Alps until the end of his days

„To be love is to be accepted” is Skarra. „To be love is to be considered” is Klaus. „To be loved is to be known” is Shakes. „To be loved is to be seen” is Thor. „To be loved is to be listened to” is Rasta.

„If life is a never ending loop of dirty dishes and laundry then that means life is a never ending loop of home cooked meals and comfy clean clothes” - makes me always think of Thor. I think of him warmly and I think sometimes he daydreams of having a safe space where he could safely spend his retirement, maybe by assembling models and solving puzzles; He wants to heal from the War Trauma and someone to drink tea with.

„Personalize everything or die with nothing to your name” Somehow reminds me of Dancing Rasta. He is the kind of person who wears knitted Bob Marley keychain with his keys. He wears colorful gems bracelets. All of his backpacks, tote bags are full of enamel pins and plush keychains. If something is owned by DR, it is known by everyone.

„No Surprises” by Radiohead is the Rasta Song for me. All he wants is peace, the inner peace too. He wants to take care of his garden, bake his pastries. Tender love, hand to hand. To have someone who could just accept his solitude but still be there.

Rasta is a high-functioning person on autism spectrum. I’d believe you faster if you told me Hydra’s trio is not a polycue than DR is completely neurotypical. He finds it difficult to regulate his body temperature and once the season ends, he goes completely non-verbal.

Dancing Rasta hates physical contact. He is never the one to initiate it, unless a teammate needs it really bad. If someone acts too loud, move to fast, raise their hand, Dancing Rasta is going to flinch. Always.

Acts of intimacy (not nfsw) for Thor

Puzzle putting

Forehead kisses

Models assembling together

Have a dinner date

SPA day

If their S/O is lucky enough, he’s going to let them put not only a face/lip mask on but also a whole face makeup/paint his nails

Acts of intimacy (Dancing Rasta)

It’s hard to be intimate with someone who is scared both of physical and emotional intimacy. After years of being together, his spouse just accepted it

Picking and putting his jewelry on

Gently brushing and washing his hair: touching Dancing Rasta’s hair is the highest form of intimacy between him and his partner. Only they are allowed of doing it and not always. For Rastas, their hair is something very important.

The last one, one of the most rare and most wanted ones - bathing together. Preparing him a bath.

[whositmcwhatsit]

Stay the Same

A/N: I am so close to the wire with this one! Angsty smut written for last week's prompt: army Elvis (We're sort of army-adjacent because I'm a rule bender.)

As always, shout out to my people: @thatbanditqueen, @be-my-ally, @ellie-24, @missmaywemeetagain, @from-memphis-with-love, @vintageshanny for love, support, encouragement and deep, depraved horniness.

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“I need you, darlin’. You don’t understand. I need you somethin’ awful.”

It played over and over in Kitty’s head as she sped along the dark highway, praying that none of the wildlife she glimpsed skittering about at the edge of the road decided to do a suicide run in front of her car. She could explain away taking the car, an emergency maybe, a sick friend or someone who was having trouble at home. Lots of her friends were getting married right now, and there were always dramas in the early days. It was plausible. What she wouldn’t be able to explain to her mother was why her station wagon had an armadillo smushed in the fender; not many of them wandering around their suburban streets.

Oh Lord, what was she doing? She lifted her foot off the gas slightly and started to look for a place to safely pull in. She was not a flighty, foolish kind of girl. Ask anyone who knew her and they would tell you that Kitty Cowan was not the spontaneous type. For a girl who graduated early so that she could travel around performing in a country and western duo with her brother, Kitty had a surprisingly level head on her shoulders. Or she used to, until a certain Hillbilly Cat had wandered onto their roadshow with his Blue Moon Boys and promptly melted the sense right out of her mind.

Back then, all he’d have to do was stare at her with those shy, hooded eyes and flutter those long, thick lashes and she would be doing his laundry and pressing his shirts like she was a combination laundress/housewife. Her brother Chick, knowing how she pitched a fit when their mama asked her to help out with chores at home, would gawp at her like she had gone and sold her brain for a dime, but all Kitty needed was that lopsided grin and the press of Elvis’ soft lips against her cheek when she handed over the clean, pressed clothes and it seemed worth it. More, she felt like she had done something important for someone who was worth it.

Only, all that craziness had ended a couple of years before when Elvis had moved up to the big leagues and Chick and Kitty, having grown bored of the same old shows at the same old places, decided to stash their guitars in the garage and settle down for a real, normal life. There was never a question that they could follow him, Elvis paved his own pathway through the wilderness and none of them were quite talented enough to follow it.

Which was fine, Chick had got a job at a radio station, putting that gift of the gab to good use, and he was doing well at it, travelling around again as an emcee for the new rock n roll shows that had burst onto the scene, feeding off the teenage excitement. Sometimes he’d run across Elvis and get to spend time shooting the breeze backstage.

‘He’s just the same,’ he’d report back to Kitty, ‘His performance has gotten real smooth, but off stage he’s still the same old unassuming fellow. Everyone I talk to can’t say enough about him.’

It seemed like no one could say enough about him. Kitty couldn’t read a newspaper without an article about how that shy, charming boy was ruining the youth of America. She often thought about him quietly playing gospel songs on the piano between shows when she read that pastors were denouncing him as Satan in sideburns from their pulpits. When she saw him on television, jiggling and gyrating right there on the screen, she could still see the playful, bashful boy she knew, but there was something else now, something shiny twinkling in his eyes that she didn’t think had been there before. She wondered if that was what had everyone so flustered and furious about him.

Now that dangerous threat, that affront to polite society, was headed to the Army. Chick had spent night after night for the past few weeks fielding calls to the radio station from wailing girls calling to protest their heart throb being stolen by Uncle Sam and also requesting his new single. Chick said he couldn’t work out if it was career suicide or promotional genius, because everything Elvis released was shooting up the charts. And Kitty hadn’t thought much about it at all until the phone rang at home and Chick, up in Memphis for a series of dances, was shouting down the line saying that he had someone with him that wanted to speak to her.

“Hi Kitty Cat? You there?” Kitty’s stomach did a strange loop de loop that had her dinner almost returning the way it came. She recognised the voice immediately, even though it was louder than normal, much louder, trying to be heard over the racket in the background.

“Elvis? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me, darlin’. You forgotten me already, huh?”

“No, no, of course not. Only I can hardly hear you! Where are you?” She heard fumbling and Elvis’ voice off in the distance, followed by some loud guffaws, then a thumping noise. When he got back on the line, it was quiet in the background.

“Had to shut myself in the dang closet,” he informed her, chuckling quietly. “Hi, hi Kitty honey, how are you? It’s been a hundred years. Where are you?” Kitty frowned at the receiver.

“You called me at my house, Elvis.”

“I know,” he laughed in that silly, self-conscious way he had. “I meant, why ain’t you here? Why ain’t you here where I need you, baby?”

Kitty didn’t know quite what to say. She cradled the receiver, feeling how cool the plastic was against her rapidly heating cheek.

“Hey, you still there? Damn stupid-ass phone, I-“

“I’m still here,” she murmured, touching her face, her hair and the back of her neck like she was reminding herself that she had a physical, material body that prevented her from floating down the telephone line that she wanted to.

“Oh, huh, thought I lost ya. You can come, can’t you, honey? You know they’re sending me away soon and I might not have another chance to see you before I go.” He’d had the last two years, a cool, doubtful voice in her head pointed out and she nodded at it before she disregarded it completely.

“Come where? Where are you?”

“Oh, right now? Right now we’re at Hotel Chisca, helpin’ out my pal Dewey on his, uh, show. Red, Hot and Blue, you know it?”

“Yes, I’m aware of Dewey Phillips and his show.” She wondered if he thought she had stopped existing the minute he had left her behind. Perhaps he thought she had been packed away in a closet with her guitar.

“How soon can you get here, darlin’?”

“Tonight? Elvis, I-”

“Now, I don’t wanna hear that you can’t make it. My days are numbered, honey. I tell ya, I just wanna see as many folks as I can before- before it’s all over.” He went hoarse at the end like it choked him up to even say it, and her heart panged for him. In her head she was already imagining herself running upstairs to change and sneaking her mother’s keys from her purse.

“Will you still be there?” she asked finally. “At the Hotel Chisca, by the time I get there?”

“I’ll wait all night if I have to. I need you, darlin’. You don’t understand. I need you somethin’ awful.”

After several aborted u-turns and a whole two-way argument with herself as she hit downtown, Kitty pulled into the parking lot for the hotel. She had been listening to Red, Hot and Blue on the way and Dewey had been hyping up his listeners with the news that Elvis was haunting the corridors and was even choosing some of the records he was playing, so she wasn’t surprised to find the lobby of the hotel packed with kids. Luckily, she spotted Chick having a laugh and a joke with some of the girls up on the mezzanine floor where WHBQ had its offices and booths and she called to him, beckoning with her arm as much as her little black bolero jacket would allow. His eyes widened and he hurried over.

“Kit, what in God’s name, girl?” He waved to the security guard, letting him know that Kitty could be allowed through. “Do Mama and Pop know you’re out this late by yourself?”

“I’m a grown woman, Charles,” she informed him. “And of course they don’t.” She felt bubbles of anticipation in her belly as Chick opened the door into the corridor and revealed a lively group laughing and talking over each other. At the edge of the group, but somehow still seemingly the focus, was an unmistakable tall, dark-haired boy.

“Well, folks, look what the cat drug in,” said Chick in his charming brotherly way.

Leaning against the wall, laughing and about to take a sip of Pepsi from the bottle in his hand, Elvis glanced over his shoulder and straightened sharply. The look on his face would have been comical if it hadn’t crushed Kitty so completely. He looked shocked, like he had not been in the slightest bit serious when he had begged her to come, like he had not thought her stupid enough to rush off into the night the minute he asked. Her face burnt with embarrassment and she leant back against Chick’s hand that was between her shoulder blades, trying to retreat.

As her vision fractured and blurred under the sting of mortification, Elvis shoved his bottle into his cousin Gene’s chest and strode towards her, giving Chick’s shoulder a squeeze even as he was pushing him away. She exhaled sharply when Elvis crashed into her and squeezed all the air out of her body. His arms were locked around her, his face buried in the crook of her neck and his hips were jammed against hers. She was trapped. The guys in the corridor snorted and guffawed like it was part of a skit for their entertainment, but the longer Elvis remained clinging to her, the quieter they became.

“I can’t believe you’re really here!” he murmured, finally drawing back, but only enough so that she could stare up into his heavy-lidded eyes and feel the breath from his mouth as he spoke. “You came all the way up here just for me?”

“You asked me,” she returned, the edge still in her voice because it still stung. Not that he thought she was pathetic now, but that he thought she didn’t care enough to come when he asked.

“Not everybody would’ve,” he said softly, adjusting his tight arm around her waist, tugging her in just a little bit closer.

“I’m not everybody,” she returned, studying his face.

“I know,” he said in a small voice, pecking her softly on the tip of her cold nose. He was almost cross-eyed staring so intently at her with their faces so close together. All of a sudden, that irrepressible, dazzling smile spread across his face and she had turned away from the glare. It hurt to look at.

“Come meet everybody.” He grabbed her hand and yanked her before she had absorbed his words, making her totter a little on her heels as he rushed back to his group. “Hey y’all, this is that little girl I told you about.”

Kitty’s inside froze when she heard those words, her chest tight and heavy. He wouldn’t have told them, he promised!

“Chick and Kitty here were real kind to me when I first started out. Man, I was so green, most everybody laughed me off the damn stage, but Kitty Cat-” He wrapped his arm around her waist again, tugging her into his side and pulling her off balance, making her stumble into him. “-She made sure I didn’t go down in flames inside of a week.”

The guys nodded politely, most of them eyed her chest and ran their eyes down her legs, but it was the handful of girls in the group that examined her most closely. Kitty could feel them measuring and portioning her up, their sharp eyes noting the body language and the way that Elvis couldn’t seem to bring himself to loosen his grip on her. Women saw things that men missed.

They lingered longer in the corridor, someone explaining that Dewey was about to interview Elvis, and everyone was laughing and joking. Elvis was boisterous in a way that Kitty had never really seen before, fooling around with his cousin like they were the two stooges, play fighting and talking in made up words that no one else could understand. The girls kept trying to join in, grabbing his arm and knocking into him, and he would get distracted for a minute, before he retreated back to where Kitty was standing with Chick. She was wondering what she had dragged herself out of the house for, because it wasn’t this brash, loud boy whose thumb had just ‘accidentally’ grazed a pretty blonde girl’s breast as she grabbed him by the waist.

Taking a couple of clumsy steps backwards, he wrapped his fingers around Kitty’s wrist and angled his head behind him, motioning for her to walk backwards with him. In the most ridiculous pantomime, they slipped away, giggling as they ducked inside a door, and Kitty found herself standing in a storage closet, a bare light bulb hanging over their heads.

“Was this where you were when we were talking on the phone?” she asked, glancing around at a broom and the cans and bottles on the shelves.

“Huh? Oh yeah, this here is my office at the Hotel Chisca,” he intoned in a deep, officious voice. “Not much room, but just take in those spectacular views!” She scanned the narrow cupboard and then frowned at him, flushing when she caught his eyes sliding down her body.

“Stop it,” she muttered, shoving him. He instantly placed his hand over hers on his chest and held it there. She could feel his heart pounding beneath the warm cotton of his shirt. “You used to be such a nice boy!”

“I’m still a nice boy,” he returned absently, his free hand slipping onto the small of her back and pulling her in. “Just like you’re still…” He bit his lip and his nostrils flared slightly before he exhaled. “…Sorry, what was I sayin’, honey? I lost track.”

Kitty shook her head, but she was grinning as she sank against him, her mouth finding his as if no time at all had passed. He tasted the way he always had, sweet and warm, which, when combined with the soft muskiness of being enveloped by him, brought her straight back to cheap motel rooms and hastily snatched minutes and hours on the road.

“Hell, I miss this,” he sighed, pulling her with him as he leant against the far wall and the sign that said, ‘All items property of the Hotel Chisca signed by Management.’ “Don’t get me wrong, there’s plenty I don’t miss about those early days, the lousy motel rooms, havin’ to grab shut-eye in the back seat while Bill drove my car like a damn madman, washing up in dirty dressing rooms… No, but this, this I miss.”

“You mean to tell me that a big, fancy movie star like you doesn’t have girls just hanging off him at every turn? Because what I saw out there makes you out a liar.” He ducked his head so she only caught a glimpse of his wide, radiant grin.

“Naw, I ain’t saying that,” he admitted to his shoes. “There’s girls, there’s girls all right… None of them are you, though, honey.”

No one else could have said that so sincerely, she reflected, and had it received that way too. She didn’t feel like laughing, because she desperately wanted it to be true even as she knew it probably wasn’t.

“And I ain’t gonna be a movie star much longer.” The light faded from his smile, doors slamming shut and windows being shuttered. “Just gonna go back to being little ole Elvis, whoever the hell he is.”

Kitty put both her hands on his chest, a little surprised at how easily the old familiarity came back. Chick was wrong, she reflected, he wasn’t the same, but somehow he wasn’t any different either. Sliding her palms down his chest, she caught the way his breath hitched as she continued down his stomach towards his belt.

“He was- is- a sweet, talented, devastatingly good-looking man and no amount of time in the army will change that,” she informed him with absolute assurance.  He huffed a laugh, tugging her hips in against his, and she tried not to notice there was a firmness poking against her pencil-skirt now.

“Devastatingly good-looking, huh,” he replied with a grin. “I seem to remember you thinkin’ I was pretty goofy looking at first.”

“Well, that ain’t my fault, you were!!” she protested and he burst out in loud laughter, throwing back his head.

“You turned out all right though,” she continued with a playful wink. 

“I wore ya down,” he nodded, his features growing calmer and still, those sleepy looking eyes back and fixed on her. “Wore you down pretty good if I recall.” Kitty felt a wave of goosebumps crash down her spine as his hands descended, cupping her ass.

“Elvis,” she murmured, turning away her face, but making no effort to break free of his hands. “We should-“

“Get a hotel room?” he finished with a small smile and a lift of an eyebrow. He said it in a way that meant he could make it into a joke if she refused, but also sounded serious if she agreed.

“My brother and half of Memphis are outside that door,” she reminded him.

“I can handle Chick,” he murmured. “No one would even notice, honey, I promise.” He seemed to realise at the same time that she did how that made him sound: practised, and skilled at impulsive sex in hotel rooms. In response, he draped himself over her, his lips pressed into the crook of her neck, hot breath against her skin.

“I just- I just wanna- Wanna spend some time with you without everyone watchin’. I want you all to myself again, darlin’, like we used to.” She opened her mouth to respond. “You know, I’m heading off to war soon…”

“There’s no war, Elvis,” she answered slightly reproachfully, as if she was stupid enough to fall for that.

“Well, you never know,” he shrugged diffidently. “And you gotta get your kicks while you can.” The effect was ruined by the smirk he was wearing.

“Aw, Hollywood went and got you real good, didn’t it,” she remarked, shaking her head.

She didn’t mean it as a condemnation. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing that he had become more confident, more aware of the effect that he could have on people, girls mostly, but she was a little sad. She had liked that boy, the one that had trembled when she first sat on the end of his bed and unfastened the buttons of her blouse. She still sometimes caught herself thinking of how he used to look, mouth open and eyelashes fluttering as he moved above her; the little lip curl as he flushed with pleasure, twitching in her hands.

Whatever she intended, Elvis’ face dropped and his brows drew together, making him look like a confused, sad little boy.

“Now, wait a minute,” he said, starting forward and somehow looming over her in the confined space. “How is that fair, huh? You got no idea the- the bullshit I gotta go through. I mean, I ain’t complaining, I’m blessed, I know that, but… If I act like I’m enjoying myself I’m big-headed and- and I’ve forgotten where I came from. If I try to seem humble I’m ungrateful and a liar… Hell, what am I supposed to do? How do I keep everyone happy?”

“Well, you can’t,” Kitty replied, reaching up and giving one of his beseeching hands a squeeze. “Nobody can make everybody happy all the time, honey, not even you.” He seemed like he wanted to say something else, but someone started banging on the door, disillusioning them that they had ever sneaked off unseen in the first place. They were calling him for his interview with Dewey and he hollered out that he was coming.

“Don’t go nowhere,” he instructed her, squeezing her arm as he sidled past her to the door. “I mean it now, Kitty.” She scoffed as he watched him being dragged along the corridor by his pals, wondering where he got the audacity to demand anything from her. But, of course she stayed, even as she judged herself for it, standing with Chick in the producer’s office, looking through the glass window into the booth where Elvis was teasing the girls peering in and grinning at Dewey’s hyper antics.

“You know what you’re doin’?” Chick asked out of the side of his mouth as they stood smiling.

“Rarely if ever,” she replied, shooting him a wry look. “Relax, Chickadoo, it’s just one night.”

“Yeah, those sound like famous last words.”

After the interview, Elvis strode out of the booth like he was on a mission, announcing that he was hungry and they were leaving. He rushed past Kitty, grabbing her wrist as he passed and not even slowing in consideration for the fact that she was wearing heels.

They took the service elevator down to the kitchens, Elvis bouncing on his heels and humming to himself. He started nudging Gene and they inexplicably engaged in some sort of battle to kick each other in the shin, even as he was entwining his fingers with Kitty’s.

Sneaking through the kitchens, they skidded around cooks and waiters, bursting out into the delivery bay at the back of the hotel. Kitty started to move towards her car, Elvis towards his and they engaged in a little tug of war that ended up with her skittering into his side because of her stupid shoes.

“What you doin’, we’re taking my car,” he said, looking at her like she had lost her mind.

“I need to drive home,” she countered. “I’ll need my car.” He gritted his teeth and looked intensely frustrated for a minute, before shrugging it off and announcing that Gene would drive her car. Gene seemed as unimpressed with this idea as she was.

“Look, everybody needs to stop coming up with goddamn problems!” Elvis snapped. “Y’all are doing my head in.”

It seemed a disproportionate reaction for a minor inconvenience to Kitty, but no one else seemed perturbed or surprised by his outburst. She handed over her mother’s keys with misgivings, making Gene promise, promise, that he would drive carefully what was technically a stolen car.

A bunch of people piled into the big, gleaming Cadillac and Kitty felt hemmed in pressed into Elvis’ side as he swung the wheel, trying to avoid the knot of people that spotted him and immediately tried to crowd the hood as if being run over by Elvis Presley would be an honour.

They drove over to Krystal and the car was flooded with greasy bags of their little square burgers.

“Didn’t you boys get Krystal’s last night too?” asked a blonde girl in the backseat, squashed very much like a slab of meat between two large guys.

“Yes, ‘cause they’re damn good,” one of the men said, shoving nearly the entire small bun in his mouth.

“Gotta make the most of it, huh, EP? They don’t serve chow like this in the service.”

Elvis had been fiddling with the radio knobs, moving his head in time with the music as he chewed, his cheeks filled like a hamster. At his friend’s words, his eyebrows dropped and he shot the guy a death look, which shut him up quickly. It seemed like Elvis was getting sick of hearing about what his life was going to be like after induction.

The atmosphere in the car got a little dense with nobody knowing what to say to ease the tension, when Elvis ducked down, his head pressed against Kitty’s chest, as he sucked on her straw from the cup in her lap.

“Hey!” she cried, overacting to counter the quiet, “that’s mine, you got your own!” She had her hand on the back of his neck and gave the hair at the nape of his neck a quick scratch with her nails, which made him shiver adorably. 

“I drank it already,” he shrugged sheepishly, sitting back up and pouting. Sighing, she offered him her cup and he grinned as he took it, repaying her with a lip-smacking kiss on the cheek.

“I like the hair,” she said softly, making the most of the relative quiet while his goofy, boisterous friends were still regrouping. “The black, I mean.”

“Oh yeah, well, it just looks better on film. Actors have been doing it all the way back to Tom Mix and Douglas Fairbanks, honey, right up to Tony Curtis today. Uh, I mean, I’m not comparing myself to them-” She nodded, reaching out a finger to snag a lock that had fallen across his forehead, giving it a gentle tug.

“It looks good,” she told him. “You look like a real movie star.” His lips curved into a more natural smile and he took another pull from the straw, his cheeks colouring slightly.

They drove around for about an hour, listening to the radio while Elvis took her on a whistlestop tour of significant places to him. They drove to Sun Studios. He wanted her to meet Sam Phillips and he thought that Sam might be up late like he often was, but the lights were out and the place all locked up.

“You know, I already met him a few times,” Kitty reassured him when he sighed and let himself drop back against the sooty wall at the back of the building. “Back when we were touring with y’all. I think Chick even talked to him about recording here, but it didn’t work out.”

“I was just hopin’ to see him,” he mumbled, his head bowed as he kicked out at a clump of grass that had fought its way through the concrete. “It feels like… like time’s runnin’ out.” She moved closer and gripped the bottom of his boxy striped sports jacket, giving it a tug.

“It’s just a pause, not the end,” she promised him.

“You can’t know that. No one knows for sure. I’ll tell ya, the Colonel and the folks at RCA Victor, and Mr Wallis, they all say right pretty things ‘bout how it’ll be when I get out, the plans they got to keep people interested and remembering me while I’m gone, but-“ He sighed a deep, chest-heaving sigh and drew Kitty in by the waist, squeezing her against him like he needed the comfort. “Look at how quick I came up, ain’t no one to say I won’t go down just as fast. Or maybe someone else’ll come onto the scene and all my fans’ll-“

“I know, because I know,” Kitty interjected, seeing how he was spiralling, one of his hands rubbing his face with increasing vigour. “I remember when I saw you sing for the first time, you were shaking and could barely put two words together between your songs. Even then I knew that you were something special, that you were different from the rest of us, and I was right, wasn’t I? I’m right about this too.”

“You know because you know,” he huffed a laugh and cupped her cheek with his hand, rubbing gently with his thumb. “Well, I’m convinced, Kitty Cat, by that stunning argument.” She gave his chest a shove with her forearm and ducked away as he laughed, trying to kiss her.

“You laugh now, boy, but when you’re out there in a couple of years buried under gold records and adoring fans, starring in all the movies, I expect you to come find me and beg for my forgiveness. On your knees!”

“Oh, I’ll always come on my knees for you, baby,” he intoned in a low, bass voice into the crook of her neck.

“You are so bad,” she giggled, smacking his shoulder. He nuzzled and nibbled on her neck, gripping her in a bear hold to stop her from wriggling away. Although they were sheltered by the shadows of the parking lot behind the studio, Kitty was aware that they were in public and that, at any moment, one of his friends might get bored waiting in the car and catch them.

“Elvis, Elvis honey, come on now, stop, people can see. Elvis!” She grabbed a handful of the hair at the back of his head, giving it a sharp tug to get him to let her loose.

“Come home with me,” he said one breath, squinting down at her, looking deliciously rumpled and excited. “I wanna show you- I can show you-”

“What about your family?” she asked in a low voice, her palms sliding up beneath his jacket, twitching as she followed the lines and curves, lingering over the peaks of his erect nipples beneath his shirt. He shuddered and didn’t waste time trying to answer, hooking her by the waist and merely lifting her over the low wall that separated the parking lot from the alleyway at the side of the building.

“We’re heading home,” he mumbled to his passengers, slamming his door. The car peeled away from the kerb with a high-pitched squeal. Nobody spoke and the journey passed in a blur of silence. Kitty’s eyes stayed fixed on Elvis’s white knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel. She barely registered the gate with the music notes, the winding drive or the impressive portico and columns.

“Well, I’ll see y’all later,” was all he said as he climbed out of the car, hands grabbing for Kitty’s forearm and tugging her towards him as he backed towards the brick steps. Kitty wasn’t sure whether anyone answered as she was too busy focusing on keeping up with him as he opened the front door. He turned back to her, grinning like a little kid and put his finger to his lips, pointing towards the stairs. Kitty slipped off her shoes, exhaling as she stretched her toes, and managed to grab them before he tugged her again, taking off up the stairs at a breakneck pace. She hissed at him to slow down, but he just shushed her and she could hear him laughing under his breath.

Kitty barely registered the dark room before Elvis shut the door behind her and pressed her into it, his hot mouth on hers snatching away her breath. Safely away from prying eyes, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and moaned into his mouth, pressing herself against him. He froze and pulled back, but she could barely see his face in the darkness and was about to ask what was wrong, when he gathered her up in his arms and threw her onto the bed. She shrieked, hastily slapping her hands over her mouth as she bounced on the mattress.

“Don’t worry about it, baby,” he murmured, kicking off his shoes and throwing his jacket onto a chair like he was competing in a race. “This room’s supposed to be soundproof. Let’s test it out, huh.”

It was reassuring to see him clamber awkwardly onto the bed and throw himself down next to her just like he used to, a sign that the boy that she had cared for was not all gone, just hidden in pockets and alcoves of behaviour and words. 

“Kitty honey?” he asked suddenly once he had settled himself down on the pillows and was looking up at her with a slightly furrowed brow. “You know we don’t have to-“

She dove down, mouth catching his and draped herself across him. She felt his lips curved into a smile as his hands settled onto her back, soon grazing her curves until they were palming the weight of her ass, squeezing slightly.

Kitty’s body was buzzing and tingling, she could already feel the muscles contracting in her stomach and lower down and she tried to find some relief from the ache, but could barely move her legs within her tight pencil skirt. 

Elvis tried to follow her up as she withdrew, moaning a little when she pulled away, and she snorted at his forlorn expression as she drew up to her knees on the bed. His eyes widened as she shrugged off her jacket and started to unbutton the body-hugging blouse beneath.

Like a true gentleman, he was up on his knees too in seconds to help her. He was more a hindrance than help, his long fingers getting in the way of her slipping the tiny buttons out of the holes, but he seemed to want to be useful. He stared down at her bare chest and bra like a boy who had never seen either, which was funny because Kitty knew for certain that he had. Then, slowly, carefully, he reached out to cup the back of her head and bring her closer, kissing her like she was one of his co-stars and he was the romantic hero.

It was an intricate dance of shadows, Elvis moving with confidence and tenderness, while in her head she was seeing the first time when his hands had trembled and his ripe bottom lip glistened as he had panted, moving too slowly and awkwardly. She had had to guide him, her hands on his hips, around his ass, urging him to move faster, to stop apologising and asking if she was okay.

None of that now, it was more than a dance, it was a routine. Her eyes followed him as he kissed between her breasts, the tip of his nose grazing her skin as he made his way down, taking a detour to lick her nipples, circling them with his tongue before sucking. She arched up into him, noting the contrast of his hair as it splayed against her pale skin.

As his fingers grazed the inside of her thighs, she thought about how his body had changed, filling out and becoming broader, and there was hair on his chest that wasn’t there before. She raked her fingers through it as he moved between her legs, his eyes sparkling with tenderness and a little amusement.

“You okay?” he murmured, biting down on a smile, though his eyebrow twitched against his best efforts.

“You know, I told you that if you ever asked me that again I’d pummel you,” she gasped, tilting her hips so that he was grinding down onto the right spot, her nerves fluttering out and down the inside of her thighs.

“I know, I know,” he laughed breathlessly, his open mouth going slack as he started to inch into her. She wrapped her legs around his hips, tightening her thighs to bring him in closer, faster, harder. One thing hadn’t changed, he was still too careful and gentle with her. He got the message though, thrusting hard until their hips were pressed together, slamming a hollow moan from her as he grunted.

She adjusted her grip on his shoulders, realising that she might need a tighter grip, and stared up at his face. His bottom lip was between his teeth as he adjusted to being inside her, to the friction and the pressure, but under the weight of her eyes, he tugged his upper lip up into his famous sneer, drawing out and then grinding back down just as quickly. She gasped and pressed her feet down onto the back of his thighs, finding a way to cling on as he demonstrated exactly how he had earned one of his cruder nicknames.

Somehow, they got turned around and they were horizontal across the vast landscape of his enormous bed, Kitty’s head hanging back off the mattress. He grabbed a handful of her hair as it trailed down towards the carpet, pulling her head back further, nipping and sucking at her pulse point at the same time as he pressed and rubbed and circled her clit and filled her too. Each time she opened her eyes he had this sly, mischievous look on his face like he knew how good he was, like he was proud to show her what he had learned.

Flushing with warmth, buzzing and trembling, she felt the crest of the wave beginning to build between her legs and she whined a little, gasping for air, wanting the sensation to only ever build and never peak. He tugged at her hair again, this time a little sharper, so that she opened her eyes and her vision swam and then slid back into crystal clear focus.

“Say it, darlin’,” he mumbled breathlessly. “I wanna hear you say it.” He drove into her harder and faster, making her cry out and he tugged her hair again until she relented and cried out his name as she came.

Seconds later, he pulled out and she felt him pulse against her belly as he crushed her mouth beneath his. She could barely breathe with his heaving chest pressing down on her, but she didn’t mind, it would be a wonderful way to go.

Finally, he pulled himself away, passing her his shirt to clean up, and he pressed himself to her back, tugging her backwards onto him like a blanket.

“You know why I kept asking if you were okay that first time?” he murmured, exhaling deeply into her ear as he drooped with exhaustion and satisfaction.

“Why?” she whispered, though she already knew the answer.

“Because I was fuckin’ far from okay,” he giggled, his words slurring and sliding together. “I was scared half to death, thought my heart was gonna pound itself right out of my chest… ‘Bout how I feel now I reckon.”

“You were fine then and you’re gonna be fine this time too,” she promised, reaching up to squeeze one of the arms he had folded around her chest.

“I sure hope you’re right.” He yawned, pressing a kiss onto her neck before dropping back onto his pillow. “You usually are. I just hope everything stays the same.”

 It seemed a strange and futile thing to wish for, especially for a man whose life had not stopped changing in the past three or four years, but she crossed her fingers as she relished the time that she had left in his arms and wished it alongside him. Let everything stay the same.

[weightedblankettt]

INTRODUCING… SUPER DANGANRONPA DESPAIR TIME 2: (HEAD)CANONS!!

It took me WAY too long to get these done…

// drugs, murder, typical danganronpa cw’s, alcohol

Under the cut!

——————

ACE MARKEY (HIBIKI OTONOKOJI):

Ace sings in the shower. He likes to sing his own songs, but sometimes, he’ll sing the pieces of his favorite idols when Nico or his parents aren’t home.

It was Ace who originally bought his and Nico’s matching earrings. They were a birthday present for both of them because it was the second year since their parents had stopped bothering to celebrate.

Although he is insecure about his weight due to the idol industry, he still teases Nico for theirs. He’s well aware that it’s wrong, but he projects his insecurities onto them to avoid dealing with his own problems. Ace wishes he could take back everything he’s said to them, sometimes.

He was a rather popular athlete at his old school. He wasn’t very close with his friends outside of sports, but he took them very seriously. Even if they would bully him for having a girlish hobby on the side.

Secretly, he loves pop songs. He especially likes romantic songs, because he’s a bit of a hopeless romantic on the side. He will never admit to this, though, and will curse you out if you try to expose him for it.

AREI NAGEISHI (SHINJI KASAI):

Arei has a burn scar, vertically across her forehead. She’s a bit insecure about it and uses what’s left of her bangs to cover them up.

She’s a lesbian, which is apparent with her inability to talk to girls. Arei never ends up being able to finish a sentence whenever she addresses a woman, and she always goes into a nervous shutdown after a while.

She and her sisters lived with her mother, while she wanted to live with her father. She was allowed visitation, but she was the only one that ever visited him. Her family is a toxic hellscape, and it has been since she was a child.

Her speaking voice is absurdly loud. Despite the high pitch of her voice itself, she consistently speaks in a loud and boisterous manner. It’s ear-grating to everyone else.

In terms of her academics, Arei is a complete failure. She’s even managed to get a D+ in Lunch, which nobody in her class knew was even remotely possible.

ARTURO GILES (YURI KAGARIN):

Arturo is a heavy alcoholic. He’s an experienced wine connoisseur and has a lot of prior background with drinking in general. He’s even half-Russian, which he consistently flexes.

He’s only been to space once. It was the best day of his life, in his opinion. And it was all thanks to the beautiful women around him! And some men, but he digresses.

His view of women and men is similar to Yuri’s. He sees women as beautiful and praises their very existence. Meanwhile, any men in his vicinity are disregarded as utterly disgusting, and he sees them as ugly.

The halo around his head is just a hat. He bought it as a souvenir from an academy and wears it around all the time as a result. The planets are able to be spun on their wire. He does it a lot, it’s rather fun.

One of his pastimes is watching Veronika’s horror movies. He is a big, big fan of her work, and he consistently bothers her about it. Speaking of, he’s also a fan of J’s hostess work, but not as much as he is of Veronika’s acting.

CHARLES CUEVAS (SYOBAI HASHIMOTO):

Charles is vastly multilingual. He can speak the more common languages, like Spanish, French, Japanese, and Russian. But he can also speak Dutch, Kawishana, Mandarin, and even more than you can count on both hands.

He always carries around a hunting knife. Despite his phobia of blood, he consistently manages to threaten others. While the extent of his phobia is greatly lessened due to his career, it still affects him.

He still practices chemistry, although for illegal uses. He even had a meth lab in his old place of residence, before he was forced to flee.

Because of his frequent homelessness, he is incapable of basic chores: He can’t do his own laundry, he can’t cook, clean, or even make his own bed. He’s used to living a rather practical lifestyle and putting minimal effort into anything except his career.

Smoking is one of his worst habits, but he still continues to do it. Charles always carries a pack of cigarettes and a lighter for whenever he gets stressed out and takes a smoke when he needs to.

DAVID CHIEM (YUKI MAEDA):

David’s favorite food is easy-make oatmeal. However, on days when he’s feeling particularly energized, he’ll make himself a bowl of meat-flavored ramen, and curl up on his couch to eat it.

He has a positive front, but his supply of optimism is limited. Pessimism is his true nature, but he forces himself to stay happy in spite of the tragedy surrounding him. Despite his luck, he feels as if he’s powerless, surrounded by people infinitely more talented than he is.

He will always choose to be a fire type in role-playing games. David really likes having fire abilities, for some unknown reason, and will always pick fire without fail. Pokémon, Dungeons and Dragons, anything you can think of.

Bad luck is common for David, to the point where his misfortune is expected of him. Similar to Teruko in the original DRDT, his luck differs from Yuki’s, in that his luck is more of a curse than a blessing. This is subverted with Utsuro, or in this case, The Angel of Death, who takes on the bad misfortune of others and blesses them with heavenly luck.

With his spare time, David usually hangs around Teruko and the twins. They’ve become a small group of friends, considering Ace’s open nature, combined with Nico’s timid one and Teruko’s reliability. He views them as his closest friends and wants them all to be happy.

EDEN TOBISA (IROHA NIJIUE):

Eden is an avid reader of manga, especially shōnen, despite being a girl. She’s always found the action more invigorating than in other mangas, but she’ll indulge herself in shojo manga as well. All of it is good in her eyes.

Her family is her main source of pressure. From their disappointment in her self-expression to their obsession with keeping up the family name, she’s not one to be open with herself.

Art is her passion, but she wants to make different art than the pieces she’s expected to. While her family is focused on hyper-realistic artwork, Eden wants to draw more in cartoony styles. Her dream is to release a manga of her own one day, so she can make her parents proud of her.

Without even thinking about it, Eden can spend hours upon hours drawing in her sketchbook. It’s a wonder how she gets enough sleep with the way she can spend up to fifteen hours or more straight, moving her pen with a smile on her face.

Even though Eden has contact lenses, she refuses to wear them. She believes that her glasses make her look more cute, and she wants to keep that image of herself.

HU JING (HAJIME MAKUNOUCHI):

Hu cannot operate machinery for the life of her. No matter what kind and no matter how she does it, she always ends up accidentally breaking something due to her inability to use it correctly.

She has a daily exercise schedule, neatly planned out to keep her strength. She usually ends up training with Arei because of their similar lifestyles, but she tends to upkeep herself by going on morning jogs, before excusing herself to the gym.

Despite being a boxer, she still enjoys classical Chinese music. She still has an affinity for the zither, although she cannot play it. She’s very in tune with her culture, despite not dressing in traditional clothing because of the nature of her occupation.

She hates the look of hospitals and will avoid them at all costs. She’s had terrible experiences with illnesses in her childhood, and she’ll avoid them at all costs, even if she needs to. She takes very good care of her health as a result.

The hat on her head is used to cover her eyes from the sun. She has protective sunglasses tucked under the sleeves of her jacket, but her eyes are sensitive to strong light because of her past illnesses.

J MORENO-ROSALES (YORUKO KABUYA):

J’s cooking skills are unmatched by anyone else in the cast. Because of her hostess work, she’s used to having to act as a waitress at parties, especially for impatient customers.

Mariabella Rosales, her own mother, is her most frequent customer. It annoys her to no end, but ever since she was a child, she was used to having to attend her mother’s parties, working day in and day out to ensure the happiness of her clientele.

She enjoys singing, but doesn’t practice often. Her voice isn’t exactly as perfect as Ace’s, but she still has fun whenever she joins in on karaoke or other activities similar to it.

Due to the nature of her job, J is able to tell if someone’s drunk or not. It’s a sixth sense for her, almost, and she gets really pissed off if someone lies about being drunk. She will not hesitate to scold you for it.

She prefers masculine-style clothing. It’s more satisfying to do her work in a suit and tie, rather than a dress for her. It might catch some people by surprise, but she really couldn’t care less about it. Her fur coat is her favorite accessory.

LEVI FONTANA (SETSUKA CHIEBUKURO):

Levi’s Devil’s Eye allows him to record his past memories. This is basically the same as Setsuka’s. He’s more hesitant to use it than she is, though, considering he has a higher moral standpoint than she does.

His past is darker than he lets on, but he covers it up with a joke or two. Despite his morbid sense of humor, he truly wants to leave the past as it is. He doesn’t want to dig himself a hole far too deep, and so he’s unwilling to use his Devil’s Eye much.

Party planning is one of his biggest hobbies. He finds joy in organizing events for his friends to enjoy, especially regarding the twins, J, or Veronika. He finds that performing puts them right in their element, and always encourages the three of them to shine brighter than before.

Fatherly behavior has always been part of his personality. Levi gravitates towards taking on a supportive role to the rest of his class, especially in relation to some of the students who need it the most, like Ace, Eden, or Rose. He stays away from the more mature students, like Charles and Whit.

Birthdays are a foreign concept for Levi. He’s never had his actual birthday celebrated by other people, and he’s almost forgotten what day his birthday is on. He doesn’t really mind, though, he prefers celebrating his friends’ birthdays, anyway.

MAI AKASAKI (REI MEKARU):

Mai’s hair is cut short. She found no use for her long braid after the events of her first game, so she discarded her hair with a pair of scissors. She’s not the Ultimate Professor for nothing.

She tends to antagonize her students in order to get them to succeed. Although it hurts her to act cruelly, she instills a desire for her students to prove her wrong whenever she criticizes them in order to allow them to flourish. Not one student has ever failed her classes.

Her and Xander are adoptive siblings. Her family adopted Xander after he was orphaned, and they’ve been inseparable ever since, especially after surviving a killing game together.

The floral tattoo on her arm is technically against her school’s dress code, so she always dresses around it. Her favorite part of preparing for the day is finding a different accessory to cover up her tattoo, so she always feels that it helps complete her style.

Although she needs glasses to see, she refuses to wear them. In contrast to Eden, Mai doesn’t want to wear her glasses, as she can do her job somewhat fine without them. That, and she finds her own pair unappealing.

MIN JEUNG (NIKEI YOMIURI):

Min’s handwriting is mainly sleek, yet rushed, cursive. She learned how to write like that because of the fast-paced dialect of some of her interviewees, She needed to write fast, and so she learned.

Her dedication to her work was spurred on by her parents. Growing up, she was always obsessed with learning the truth about other people. Her reasons for this are unknown, but her devotion is seemingly serious.

The facade that she puts on is meant to attract the people that she’s interviewing. She has an excitable, eager persona, but she’s more cynical and distrustful under that. She simply wants to appear happier to goad her clients into talking more.

Her memorization skills extend to even the thickest books possible. She can commit all the research she does on the people she interviews to her memory, just so she has accurate questions to ask. And in turn, she can memorize their answers for future reference.

Black is her favorite color of pen, but she has many multicolor pens that she uses. Chartreuse, vermillion, navy, indigo, basically any color, she’ll have it. She even takes joy in pushing down all the buttons of the ten-colors-in-one pens she has.

NICO HAKOBYAN (KANADE OTONOKOJI):

Nico really likes heavy metal and rock songs. They love them to such a degree, that they prefer them over the happier tunes that they and Ace make together. However, they’d never trade their songs for the world.

Despite how close they are, Nico has not told Ace about their struggles with their identity. Although they prefer the terms they/them, they still gladly accept the term brother. Ace still doesn’t know that Nico wants to use a different set of pronouns.

Their body count is 74, but they can’t recall that exactly. Because of their desire to keep Ace just as how they were when they were kids, they’ve lost count of just how many people have fallen to get to this point. They know that number will go up with their parent’s death, as it’s the finale of their amazing plan.

Perfectionism is natural to them. They master anything they set their mind to, purely because anything subpar, to them, is a failure. Mostly, they attempt to support Ace’s endeavors by picking up a supportive role in his dreams, so they’ve picked up a few talents.

With their affinity for animals, Nico’s one talent outside of Ace is pet therapy. Of course, this means that Nico didn’t murder Ace’s pet dog, as said in the original SDRA2. They actually shared a passion for horses at one point, but quickly dropped it when Ace dubbed them creepy.

ROSE LACROIX (KOKORO MITSUME):

Rose always has her tablet on her, no matter what. She has a rainbow-colored case on it, despite her dull personality. There are even a few games on there to keep annoying people occupied.

Being treated like a kid is bothersome for Rose. Despite being one of the shorter members amongst the cast, she expresses annoyance at being babied by other people. She prefers to be left to herself, but occasionally joins in on large gatherings.

Reading is one of her prime hobbies, but she doesn’t find time for it much. Between her manifestos and extensive research papers on human emotions, she doesn’t have much time to actually invest herself in a book.

Veronika and her hang out often. While Rose is unsure of her feelings towards the actress, she often can be spotted around her and Arturo. She often takes note of their relationship, using it as a study on extreme emotions.

With her vast training in psychology, she can effectively read the emotions and thoughts of other people. She does it so often that it usually pushes other people away from her, so she’s very bad at social interaction.

TERUKO TAWAKI (SORA):

Teruko is an avid fan of caffeine, especially when it comes to chocolate, or coffee. She will never pass up a free coffee, even if it’s coming from a shady place, or from someone like Whit or Charles.

Her hair graying is something not even she’s aware of the reason for. She feels as though it’s right on her, but the reason as to why this is doesn’t seem to exist in her mind. A lot of things don’t make sense to her due to her amnesia, but she can only assure everyone that she’s not a bad person.

She has conflicted relationships with the rest of the students. Similarly to David, she feels out of place and unwelcome in her class, although she can’t even remember her Ultimate Talent. Even her own last name is foreign to her. Even though she considers them all her friends, she’s unsure if that feeling is reciprocated.

Occasionally, she’d like to try out some girlier clothing, but she hasn’t had the time to experiment. With the ongoing mystery of where her lost memories have gone, and the dangerous situation she’s found herself in, it hasn’t been her top priority as of right now. She often gushes about this with Nico.

Although she has no talent, she makes an effort to indulge in her classmates’. She’ll take inventory with Xander, watch J begin to mix a drink or two, or talk about Charles’ business deals.

VERONIKA GREBENSHCHIKOVA (EMMA MAGOROBI):

Veronika’s specialty is in horror movies. Although she acts in other genres, her main focus is in thrillers, psychological horrors, and slasher films. She loves the art of horror in general, and will make any excuse to partake in it.

Ace and Arturo tend to become her main victims of her amateur psychology. Being inspired from her time spent with Rose, she likes to pick their brains apart. Ace is freaked out by her antics, while Arturo’s status as a fan makes him easier to talk to. Not in an exploitative way.

Voice acting is something she’s recently been getting into. She has a natural talent for mimicking other people’s voices, and she’s landed one or two roles in animated films. Of course, both of them are horror films.

Most of her on-stage appearances are done by herself. She does her own hair, her own makeup, her own personality adjustments, pretty much anything she can think of. She can even do full faces of makeup in half an hour.

Puns are her favorite activity, even if everyone else hates them. She can never stop herself from making a bad joke whenever she can, to the horror of Hu. It annoys everyone else to no end.

WHIT YOUNG (MIKADO SANNOJI):

Whit mainly deals in thunder and lightning magic. He prefers it over anything else, but occasionally dabbles in other kinds, including stage magic. He doesn’t like to use his magic for mundane reasons, however, so he doesn’t perform basic tricks.

Because of his status as the mastermind, he often converses with MonoTV. They talk about whatever comes to mind, although Whit finds the catdog creature to be rather boring.

Joking around is still a big part of his personality, even if he does it in a more regal way. He has a teasing relationship with people like Charles and Hu, although his more sinister side shows itself when he toys with the members of Void. Levi, Veronika, Min, and Eden, often become the target of his antics.

Love is still dear to his heart, and he sometimes ships his classmates. Whit doesn’t push the boundaries, but he often makes a nudge in others’ directions if he thinks they’d make a suitable couple, making teasing remarks to ease the tension. Or, that’s what he thinks it does.

The big bad mastermind’s favorite sleepwear has… heart-print pajamas. They’re his favorite kind of print to wear, and he always wants to incorporate hearts into his outfits, no matter what. MonoTV doesn’t let him, though. It shatters his heart!

XANDER MATTHEWS (TERUYA OTORI):

Xander’s favorite pastime other than his job is tailoring. He’s always caught up on the latest fashion trends, so he can make clothing from scratch with only a basic idea. Despite his physical strength being rather high, having a “delicate” hobby like tailoring tends to come as a shock to other people.

Busy schedule or not, Xander hasn’t ever missed a day of school. His attendance is perfect, and he always shows up right on time. No matter if his sister is late, no matter if his business is undergoing stress, he’s always right on time.

Rainbows are his favorite aesthetic. He shares this with Rose, and the two end up talking about them a lot. He even has one on his shirt, which he greatly enjoys looking at. He’ll even ask Rose to play games on her tablet because he likes the case.

David’s mere presence is something that Xander doesn’t know how to feel about. Something about him makes Xander bittersweet, although he can’t place his finger on why. It’s almost as if he should be remembering something, but his mind runs blank…

An accident involving his right eye back in his old days of being a merchant has caused it to stop functioning. Although the exact details are lost to him, he can recall that he suffered a serious injury and it had to be removed. He wears an eyepatch over it now, and it’s always been there.

???:

They don’t know it yet, but he will be brought back, one way or another. I’ll make sure of it.

Mark my words. Whether it be Utsuro or the Angel of Death.

Tsurugi Kinjo. Remember this name…

[the-bluerecluse]

Midoriya's First Heat

MHA- Dekubowl (Deku x everyone (but really just Deku x Class 1a minus Mineta cause he got expelled or something idk fuck him)) | SFW Omegaverse

Summary: Midoriya begins pre-heat. It's his first heat. How does that work in the dorm system?

Part of my OmegaDekuBowl series

SFW Angst/Fluff

inspiration: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1539151 // https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701352

Thank you so much to @cozysafechaotic for being my beta! Really appreciate it.

btw this is chaptered on my ao3 but here on tumblr im not bothering with chapters anymore for finished fics. one big ol fic for yall.

---

Tired. That was the way to describe Midoriya’s current mental state. 

He had no idea why he was so tired. Too much training? Too little sleep? 

Maybe it was the fact that he’d cleaned the entire common area and cooked dinner all by himself that afternoon. 

His friends had tried to pitch in but he was absolutely adamant about doing everything himself. Why couldn’t they see that he just wanted to take care of them? 

After class had let out, he pretty much beelined for the dorms with nothing on his mind except helping his friends. Cleaning, cooking, all of it. Come to think about it, he’d been pretty huggy too.

Well, he just wanted his class to feel good! What was wrong with that? 

“You good, Midoriya? You’ve been pretty busy.” Kirishima said to him as he walked past. He had a finished plate of curry in his hands, the dinner Midoriya had made for all of them.

“I’m fine, Kiri, really.” He sighed. Why was everyone asking that?

“Alright. Well, you know you can talk to us, right?” 

“I’m fine.” He said, sounding admittedly tired, even to himself. 

Even if he did clean and cook all afternoon, he shouldn’t be this tired. He trained day in and day out, why was this exhausting him? He inhaled. The smells of his class filled his mind, easing his tension bit by bit. 

He spotted a discarded jacket on the floor near the couch. Without thinking, he quickly picked it up. Why did he do that? Oh, probably laundry. Yeah, it needed cleaning.  

He held it up to his face and took a deep breath. It was Kirishima’s.

Alpha.

Warmth filled his core and he smiled. 

“Oh, you found my jacket.” Kirishima yelled from the kitchen with a slight waver in his voice. 

“Oh, uh, yeah. It was on the floor so it’s probably dirty. I’ll clean it for you. No worries!” Midoriya rushed off before he could hear again how he needed to take it easy. 

He rubbed the cotton material in his hands as he rode the elevator up. As he stepped off onto his floor, he found himself entering Tokoyami’s room. He searched the darkened area and found a cloak hanging off the side of the bed. It smelled of him, like ash and a dark roast coffee. 

He grabbed it and exited the room, now holding a hoodie and a cloak as he approached Aoyama’s room. 

…

Jirou stepped off the elevator on her floor. She was still worried about Midoriya but she couldn’t find him on his floor. Eventually, she figured she’d just retire to her room and Midoriya would reach out for help if he needed it. 

What she didn’t expect was to see Midoriya leaving her room with an armful of clothing. 

“Uh, Midoriya? Are you okay?” 

“Huh?” Midoriya blinked and looked at her as if escaping from a trance. “Yeah?”

“What’s… with the clothes?” 

The greenette looked at the clothes in his arms with a puzzled expression. “Um… laundry?” 

“You don’t seem too sure about that.”

“I guess that’s what I’m doing.” He shrugged. 

Wait a minute. 

Cleaning, cooking, extra touchy, and now he was stealing clothes. 

Jirou’s eyes widened. “Midoriya, are you… um,” She winced, not knowing how to phrase it politely. “Are you, uh, nesting… like, in a pre-heat?” 

Midoriya furrowed his brow at her, as if what she said was insane. After a moment, his eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. “My heat? Oh crap! Am I gonna have my first heat?”

“Wait, your first? I thought Present Mic said omegas got their first heat in middle school?”

“I-I’m a… late bloomer.” Midoriya flushed and grimaced. “Crap, I’m going into heat. I didn’t even think about this when we moved into the dorms. Am I gonna have my heat here? What am I gonna do?!” Midoriya was hyper-ventalating and shaking. 

Jirou focused on pumping out as much soothing beta scent as possible, knowing that her number one goal was calming him down. 

It worked, though just a bit, as Midoriya’s breathing slowed and deepened and he stopped trembling. 

“Let’s head downstairs, we’ll calm down first, yeah? Plus, everyone will be relieved to know what’s been going on. Didn’t we talk about in class how when someone’s in heat they need to feel safe with people they’re close to? I know we’re not family, but we can try and help?” Jirou held out her hand and Midoriya hesitantly took it. She led the omega to the elevator and the two headed to the commons, Midoriya still holding an armful of clothes.

“Do you want to tell everyone when we get down there?” Jirou asked.

“I don’t know.” Midoriya whimpered and gripped the clothes he had tightly. 

“Uh, you don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to. I can probably spin some excuse for you.” 

“I…” Midoriya paused. Jirou sent out more beta scent to help calm him and he continued. “I need to go ask Mr. Aizawa what I’m gonna do for my… heat. I’d like… someone to come with me.”

“That’s no problem. Who do you want?”

…

“What do you think’s been up with Midoriya?” Kirishima asked to the group sat in the living area with him. 

“I’m not sure, but it’s definitely odd behavior.” Todoroki answered. 

“There’s no way the nerd looks that exhausted just from some cleaning and cooking, something else is up.” Bakugou said, looking as unperturbed as ever, though there was still some worry evident, just barely.

“Perhaps something is wrong with Eri. They’ve been particularly close ever since the School Festival.” Iida offered. 

“Nah, Amijiki’s been talking about Mirio and Eri and she’s been totally fine.” Kirishima responded. 

The elevator dinged and Jirou and Midoriya entered the commons. Most of the class turned to look and raised an eyebrow at Midoriya’s armful of clothes. 

“You, like, on a laundry run or something?” Kaminari asked. 

Midoriya ducked his head and flushed. 

Some of the class picked up that something was wrong. The omega was letting out distress pheromones and you could see it all over his face, too. 

“Are you alright, Midoriya?” Momo asked. 

“Do you want me to ask?” Jirou spoke softly to Midoriya so only he could hear. He nodded his head. 

“Midoriya needs to go talk to Mr. Aizawa.” She looked to two alphas near the tv. “Bakugou, Iida, you wanna go with him?” She shot them a very intense ‘go, don’t ask questions’ look. 

“Of course!” Iida shot up in an instant. 

“Tch. Fine.” Bakugou got up, looking reluctant, but Midoriya could tell that he wanted to go. 

“Hey, is he okay?” Kaminari asked. 

“He’s fine, just chill out.” Jirou shrugged, trying to keep people from prying until Midoriya was ready. 

“Thank you.” Midoriya said and handed the clothes in his arms to Jirou so he could begin walking to the door, to which the two alphas singled out followed. 

As soon as the three were outside the dorms, Bakugou broke the silence. “Okay, spill, what’s going on?” causing the omega to wince. 

“I’m… in pre-heat.”

“What?” The two alphas practically yelled. 

“Ah, I assume we are going to Mr. Aizawa to ask about your accommodations during your cycle.” Iida said. 

“So that’s why you’ve been acting weird.” Bakugou muttered. The omega nodded with a red face. 

“Rest assured that we will do anything to help you through your heat, Midoriya.” Iida announced whilst chopping the air. 

That brought at least a little comfort to the omega’s nerves as they made their way to Mr. Aizawa’s office. 

…

Aizawa was grading Kaminari’s paper, making a variety of marks as the door opened. He looked up from the homework and raised an eyebrow at Iida and the two problem children. 

“What is it?” 

“Could you… wait outside?” Midoriya asked quietly to the two other students. 

“Of course.”

“Yeah, whatever.” 

The door closed and Aizawa was alone with a very nervous Izuku Midoriya. This had his attention. 

“Why are you here?”

“So, I know we’re at the dorms because of the league and all, but… what do I do for my… heat? Do I have to have it here?” He asked, voice high and face aflame. 

Aizawa blinked. That wasn’t anywhere near what he was expecting. 

“You all were actually just about to have a class about this kind of thing tomorrow.” The teacher put the papers inside his desk and gave his full attention to his student. “It isn’t safe to send any of you home, so one of the new buildings constructed is what’s known as a Cycle Home. Do you know what that is?”

Midoriya shook his head. 

“A Cycle Home is a building with heat rooms and rut rooms. As you can imagine, these are facilities for taking care of alpha and omegas in heats or ruts. They’re staffed by Cycle Specialists trained to help people through their cycles. UA has specifically hired Cycle Specialists for youths and we have A/B/O support on staff. Think counselors, but specifically for problems relating to secondary gender.”

“So… I stay in a heat room?”

“Pretty much. You’ll be escorted to the heat room and spend the duration of your cycle there under 24 hour supervision. You’ll have a laptop with internet access to attend classes and be provided food, water, medication, nesting materials, and a heat collar.”

“When do I go?”

“How long do your pre-heats usually last?” 

Midoriya winced and went silent. After a moment, Aizawa sighed. 

“If this is your first heat, then I’d say you should go right away. We’ll contact your family and let them know. If you’d like anything from home we can call and have it brought here. For now, you should go pack what you want with you in the heat room. If you want, a teacher can escort you, or you could have some of your classmates go with you.”

“I’ll have my friends come with me.” Midoriya bowed his head. “Thank you, Mr. Aizawa.” 

“If you have any concerns about your heat or secondary gender, there are people in the heat rooms who will help you. Now go pack.”

“Yes, sir.” Midoriya left the room with a very tired Aizawa and explained the basis of what they discussed to the two alphas waiting outside.

“You’re going to be in the heat rooms? Are you sure you wouldn’t rather stay with us in the dorms?” Iida asked as they began their walk back to Heights Alliance. 

“I think it’s for the best. I’d be safer there, anyway.”

“Safer? Like anyone could keep you safer than I could. I’d kill anyone who tried to even get close to you.” Bakugou scoffed. 

Midoriya felt his inner omega positively sing at that. 

Alpha will keep us safe in heat. Alpha will protect us. Alpha wants us safe. 

“Really?” He couldn’t keep himself from asking. 

“Hah? You doubting my ability to keep you safe?” 

“N-No, not at all, Kacchan!” 

“So, will you be staying in the dorms with us after all?” Iida’s voice had a lilt of hopefulness to it. 

The omega thought it over for a second or two. “No. This is my first. I don’t know what might go wrong. It’s best if there are professionals around in case something happens.”

“I understand. And I applaud you for taking your health so seriously.”

“Tch. Whatever, nerd.” 

…

Midoriya ran through his packing checklist one more time in his head as he rode the elevator down. 

Blankets, a pillow, my favorite All Might plush, laptop, clothes, underwear, toiletries, anything else? 

His backpack was full to the brim with things for the heat room, causing him to wonder if he overpacked. 

Once the elevator doors opened and his entire class seemed to be waiting in the commons for him. He had texted Jirou earlier that it was okay to tell the class since he had to leave for a week or two and that they should probably know why. 

Turns out they were all quite concerned for him. 

“Aw, Mido, you were being so sweet taking care of us, and now you’re leaving? Not fair!” Mina charged into him with a hug, almost toppling the two of them over. 

“We would be happy to take care of you here, if that’s what you want.” Todoroki offered. 

They really want me to stay, huh?

“Thanks, guys, but I’ve made up my mind.” 

“That’s okay, Midoriya. We hope you feel better.” Tsu said.

“Yeah, for sure.”

“We wish you the best!”

“Au Revoir~”

Midoriya smiled and nodded. 

“Forget it. Me and Glasses are taking him and that’s final.” Bakugou growled. 

Midoriya looked over to see Bakugou baring his teeth at Todoroki and Tokoyami.

“I think it’d be a good idea for me to join you in escorting Midoriya to the Cycle Home.” The bi-colored alpha said.

“As if. The nerd chose me, got it?” 

“Dark Shadow and I wish to join as well.” 

“What part of ‘he chose us’ don’t you idiots get, huh?”

Midoriya walked between them. “All four of you can take me if you stop fighting.”

That shut them up. With a few grunts or nods of approval, the five of them set out for the other side of campus. Midoriya, Bakugou, Iida, Tokoyami, and Todoroki. Four alphas and one omega. 

When they arrived, Midoriya felt like he was sweating through his jacket. All the anxieties were building up and now he was there, about to spend over a week without any of his friends or family in one of the most vulnerable points in his life. 

“Are you feeling alright, Midoriya?” Todoroki asked softly. 

“‘Course he’s not, you idiot.” Bakugou barked, ever the calm one.

They entered the building which had a similar look to Heights Alliance, not surprising, as they were built around the same time. There was a front desk with a friendly looking woman wearing pink glasses and a headband. 

“Hi there, Izuku Midoriya?”

“Um, yes ma’am.” 

“Alright, let me just sign you in. I just need to ask you a few questions about your cycle.”

“Oh, uh, right.” Midoriya nervously approached the desk.

“Have you started yet or are you in pre-heat?”

“Um, pre-heat.”

“This is your first, correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have any medical conditions that we should be aware of?”

“No.”

“What is your pack status?”

“No pack.”

“Alright, that should do it. Allow me to show you to your heat room.” She stood and gestured for Midoriya to follow her. He turned to his friends first and bowed his head. 

“Thank you for escorting me here. I’ll see you after this all blows over.” 

“Of course we’d help. We are your class after all!” Iida proudly announced.

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t slack off. When you come back we’re going at it, 100%!” Bakugou scoffed and walked out of the building, followed by the other three alphas with various goodbyes. 

Midoriya’s expression softened and he turned back to the woman to be led to his room.

The heat room was sort of similar to a hospital room in size. It had a large mattress on the floor with a closet, desk, and window. In the open closet was a large selection of blankets of various colors and sizes, most likely nesting materials. 

“This is where you’ll be staying, feel free to make yourself at home. You’ll have three meals delivered to your room and two snacks a day. The bathroom is down the hall with showers as well. As you’re the only omega checked in at the moment, you have it all to yourself. A Cycle Specialist will be assigned to you to keep track of your progress, temperature, and water intake. We’ve received a delivery of a few blankets and pillows from your home which will be moved here momentarily.”

Modiriya nodded and began unpacking his things as the woman left him to his own devices. He plugged in his laptop and set it on the desk. He stored his clothes in the closet. He poured out all the nesting materials he had packed for himself onto the bed and put his bag of toiletries on the edge of his desk closer to the door for when he got ready for bed that night. 

He stared at the room with a feeling of emptiness. What now? He had finished his homework and he couldn’t train now that he was in the heat room. 

Usually he’d hang out with some of his friends. Talk with Iida and Uraraka, play some videogames with Kaminari and Sero, train with Bakugou, Kirishima, and Todoroki…

He could make a nest. That’s what he was doing earlier, wasn’t it? 

Midoriya grabbed some of the blankets from the closet. They were nesting blankets specifically, long, oddly-shaped, and extra soft. He smiled as he carded his fingers through the fibers. He brought them to his face and smelled… 

Detergent. A nameless detergent that meant nothing to him.

Earlier, the clothes from his class… his friends, it smelled so nice. Warm, comforting, safe. 

But these…

Well, he’d take what he could get. 

As he was setting up the base for his nest, there was a knock. He told them to come in and it was the lady from before with a big box. 

“Your mother sent you these from home. If you need anything, just let us know, your attendant will be here shortly to do a quick check-up.” She said before closing  the door and leaving. 

Finally, nesting materials that smelled safe. 

Midoriya practically tore through the box. Most of them were old blankets that were his, but a few were his moms, smelling like chai tea and fresh dough. 

And so, he got to work. 

…

It was three AM. Midoriya could barely sleep. He felt anxious. He felt tired. Most of all, he felt alone. He had worked on his nest for hours but it just felt empty. He could smell his mom and his old home, but not his current home. Not any of his friends. Not Iida. Not Uraraka. Not Todoroki. Not Kacchan. 

Now that he was aware he was going into heat, he could feel it. This unending tension and clinging exhaustion that wouldn’t let go. If everything he learned in class was right, he should be going into heat within the next day.

He couldn’t help but remember the clothes he had collected earlier. Kirishima’s jacket, Tokoyami’s cloak, Jirou’s hoodie, Aoyama’s shirt, Hagakure’s tank top… they all smelled so secure and reassuring. Throughout everything he and his class had been through together, their scents were a source of calm to him. 

He wanted so badly to go collect nesting materials but he was stuck there now until his heat ended. 

Midoriya pulled out his phone and opened the class group chat. 

‘Midoriya: Hey guys. Do you think some of you would be willing to bring some nesting materials by the heat rooms at some point? Like shirts and blankets and stuff. Don’t feel like you have to though. It’s not super important’

He added the last part, unsure about how the request would make his class feel. An omega taking items for nesting was usually only for people they were close with and/or pack mates. He didn’t want to overstep anyone’s boundaries or sound like he was demanding their things for himself. Though, it couldn’t hurt to ask, right?

He put down his phone and tried to get some sleep before class tomorrow, which he’d be attending virtually. 

…

The omega woke up to his phone alarm and an all-over body ache. He winced and groaned as he sat up and stretched. 

Oh, right. Heat pain.

His usual morning routine went off decently well, a shower, teeth-brushing, taming his messy green lockes with a hairbrush, the usual. As he was just making sure his laptop was ready for the class, a Cycle Specialist knocked and entered. 

He was a taller dark-skinned man with patches of gray scales on his face holding a clipboard and a satchel hanging off his shoulder. “Greetings, Midoriya. I’m your nurse, Mr. Higashi, I’ll be checking your vitals this morning and Nonaka will be here with your breakfast soon. If you could just sit at your desk, I’ll take your blood pressure and temperature.”

Midoriya sat and furrowed his brow as the nurse entered. He was careful not to stray too close to the nest, as entering an omega’s nest without being invited was generally a bad idea. “Is all this really necessary?”

“Technically, no. But, as you’re a hero student having his first heat under the care of UA, the staff want to make sure there’s no negative reaction by the body or that you may have some condition about your secondary gender that might affect your hero work.” Mr. Higashi said as he wrapped Midoriya’s arm in the cuff and took his blood pressure.

“Besides, between you and me, they’re mostly covering their butts. See, if a student has a bad heat experience under their care, you or your family could sue.” The doctor laughed. “And they can’t send you home because of all the villain attacks. So they gotta give you the best, or else they’re in trouble.”

That got a small chuckle out of him. 

“Alright, your heart rate and blood pressure look good. Let’s take your temp.” The nurse scanned a thermometer over his forehead and hummed at the reading. “A little warm there. I’m guessing you’ll be starting your heat within the next 20 hours or so.” He quickly put his medical instruments in a small bag and picked up his clipboard. “I’ll go fetch Nonaka for you, be back in sec.” The nurse offered a cheerful smile and left. 

Higashi walked down the hall and to the front of the building, looking for Nonaka when he saw a small crowd of students at the front holding a massive amount of clothing and blankets.

“Excuse me, may I help you?”

“We’re here to see Izuku Midoriya.” The taller one with glasses and dark blue hair spoke loudly with an air of authority. 

Higashi looked down at his clipboard with Midoriya’s paperwork and scanned the top information section. Just as he thought. “Izuku Midoriya is not in a pack. Only immediate family and pack members are allowed to visit the omegas.”

“What? That’s ridiculous!” A shorter brown-haired girl said with a pout. 

“We were asked to bring him some nesting materials. May we leave them for him?” One of the alphas of the group, the one with red and white hair, asked calmly. 

“I’ll take them for now, go ahead and leave them on the front desk. If Midoriya says yes, then I’ll allow it.”

“Why the Hell wouldn’t he say yes when he’s the one who asked us to come here?” One of them, the winner of the Sports Festival, practically snarled in his face, as two others from the group put all the nesting materials on the desk as asked.

“Believe it or not, there are some people who will try and force nesting materials on omega’s in an effort to get them used to their scent so they may take advantage of them.”

A few in the group recoiled in disgust, while a couple others seemed offended at the implication.

“I’m not saying you guys are definitely doing that, it’s just something we have to be aware of. Midoriya’s still mentally in a place where he can accept and reject things, so I’ll talk with him about it.” 

“Sorry, what did I miss?” Nonaka walked in at that moment, having probably gone to use the bathroom. 

“Just some friends offering nesting materials, Nona, go ahead and grab Midoriya’s breakfast, I’ll take care of this.”

Nonaka nodded her head and left. Higashi looked back at the group. 

“Thank you for the offerings for your friend. We’ll take it from here.” 

“Of course. We thank you for your time.” Glasses bowed and corralled everyone out the door. 

Higashi smiled at all the offerings piled on the front desk now. “Nice kids.”

…

“Midoriya?”

“Come in.” Midoriya said from his desk. 

The lady from earlier with pink glasses, Nonaka, entered with a warm tray of food. “Breakfast. Lunch Rush makes all the food for the Cycle Home, so lucky you. I love his cooking.” She set the tray down on the desk and placed some chopsticks beside them.

“Thank you.” Midoriya quickly grabbed the tray and began eating his grilled fish, suddenly feeling extremely hungry. 

“Also, did you ask for some nesting materials from your friends? A group of students came by with clothing and blankets for you.”

“Mm-hmm!” Midoriya hummed and nodded in between bites of food.

“Alright then.” Nonaka stepped out of the room and Midoriya heard a strained sound from outside. He looked to see Higashi bringing in an absolute mountain of nesting materials. 

Midoriya inhaled in surprise and a bit of rice flew into his throat, causing him to cough and hack it up. As soon as he caught his breath Higashi stepped out and brought another mass of items.

“They brought all that for me?” 

The two attendees laughed. “Yep. You’ve got a good group of friends there.” Higashi said.

“We’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you’re gonna wanna work on that nest now, huh?” Nonaka said, smiling at Midoriya’s vigorous nodding. She chuckled and the two left the room.

Midoriya was on cloud nine as the scents from all his friends filled his nose and head. Forget food, he was on the floor sorting out items in an instant, trying to figure out how each color and each scent would fit together in his perfect first nest. 

There was so much material to work with, layers upon layers of cloth and cushion, Midoriya was in heaven. 

He spent the next twenty minutes carefully placing each item in its exact spot within the nest. Just as he was making the important decision of where the alpha scents went, the alarm on his phone went off, alerting him that class was starting very soon. He reluctantly got up from his nest and went to his desk to start class.

—

The heat was really setting in.

It had been 3 days. He had made the perfect nest and for a moment he thought this might not be so bad.

Well, those anxieties he felt earlier about his first heat were not misplaced. 

He hurt, and not a little either. One thing you could not say about Izuku Midoriya is that he had no pain tolerance. That was the opposite of the truth. He’d shattered his bones over and over again and kept fighting. 

But this wasn’t like that. It was an ache. It was a throbbing burning ache in his core that spread across his body, and he had a headache to match. 

And the actual heat part… Midoriya had fought Todoroki before, he’d been burnt by fire, this was worse.

At least in a fight he had adrenaline coursing through him that kept his mind from focusing on any pain or discomfort, but just sitting there in his nest, he could feel every inch of fire on his skin. 

Heats weren’t normally like this, at least, not for adults, but as he had heard about in health class, heats and ruts when you’re young are irregular and abnormal and can easily be debilitating. 

Lucky him. 

On top of it all, all of his senses were cranked up to a hundred. Increased sensitivity, another effect of heats. Things were bright, pain was more intense, tastes were stronger, sounds were louder. 

Thankfully, since the staff are trained for this sort of thing, they easily communicate and move around without making too much sound. And the food was already pretty bland, probably for this exact reason, so he could still eat pretty easily.

He laid in the fetal position in his nest, all clothes except boxers discarded, and fan on full blast. Classes were over for the day, so he didn’t have to keep trying to focus with his muted thoughts and fuzzy vision. 

There was a knock and the door creaked open. 

“Hey, Midoriya. I need to get your vitals real quick and then we’ll get dinner right out for you.”

Midoriya whined out something hoarsely and slowly sat up, holding out his arm for the blood pressure cuff. 

Higashi gently took a seat beside him and set up the cuff. “At this rate, your peak heat should happen sometime between tonight and this time tomorrow. After that it’ll start to feel better.” He spoke softly as he took measurements. Midoriya was wincing at the cuff squeezing his arm, feeling everything so much more during this period. 

The omega reached for his All Might plushie and held it close, needing something to squeeze. Higashi smiled but didn’t comment. He just scanned his forehead with the thermometer and hummed at the results. 

“Did you finish your water from earlier?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Midoriya practically whispered as he handed him the empty bottle. 

“Alright, let me get you a refill.” He took the bottle and left, allowing Midoriya to dramatically flop back down with a deep sigh. 

The worst part of all of this was that throughout it all… he could only think about how much he wanted to be back at the dorms with his friends. He wanted them there. He wanted to nest there and bring them in, invite them in, and cuddle with them together. He cared about each of them so much. Their scents were great, and just about the only thing keeping him sane, but what he wouldn’t give for them there in person…

For now, all he could do was eat and guzzle water like his life depended on it.

…

“Alpha…” Midoriya whined and whimpered. His peak heat was here. His eyes were glazed over and he couldn’t move his body much. His thoughts were muddled… but there was still something on his mind. “Alphas… where?”

Higashi scribbled a few things down from his seat at the desk. He was required to keep ten minutes of watch over Midoriya every hour to make sure nothing alarming happened. He seemed physically fine, but Higashi was starting to think he did have a pack. Well, not yet, but he seemed very attached to a group of alphas, most likely those kids from earlier, and he wouldn’t doubt if he’d bonded to the betas too. 

“You’re alright, Midoriya. Do you want more water?”

“Alphas… Kacchan. Want Kacchan.” 

“Kacchan isn’t here. Do you want an ice pack?”

Midoriya curled up and whined pitifully. 

“I’ll get you an ice pack in a minute, okay?”

Midoriya didn’t respond. Honestly, Higashi was surprised he had already responded as much as he did during his first peak heat. 

The omega was clearly quite close to his friends. He wouldn’t be surprised if the next time he saw Midoriya he had formed a pack with them. A pack formed at a younger age came with some unique problems, but it wasn’t inherently doomed to fail. He’s seen many young packs who stayed together and made each other stronger, just what heroes in training could use. 

Higashi wrote down a note to recommend A/B/O support to Midoriya. A counselor in secondary gender and pack dynamics could help him navigate a possible pack, or at least his relationship with these alphas. This ‘Kacchan’ in particular seemed to mean a lot to him. 

He’d bring it up to him once he came out of his heat. 

...

Midoriya quickly shoved his laptop and charger into his bag. He was finally getting out of this place! 

His heat ended up lasting 8 days, 8 days too long if you ask Midoriya. He was thrilled to get back to his friends and classes and he was already mulling over which muscle groups to work out and which type of combat training would be best to jump back into after his break. 

He had to request a box to store all the nesting materials his class had brought him. Extra care was taken to neatly fold them so they wouldn’t be so crumpled or wrinkly when he returned them. 

It felt awful to have to take apart his nest that he worked so hard on, but if it meant leaving sooner, then he was all for it.

“Hi, Midoriya, may I come in?” Came Nonaka’s voice. 

“Come in.”

“We’re almost ready for your checkout,” Nonaka said as she entered the room. “However, you’ve still got some lingering heat scent so you’ll be required to wear a heat collar on school grounds. Do you have one? If not, we have one you can take with you.”

The greenette blinked in surprise. “Uh, no, I don’t have a heat collar.”

“That’s alright.” She fished around in her pocket for a moment before pulling out a plain black collar wrapped in plastic. “Here you go. Let me just finish your check-out and you’ll be all good to go.” She waved and exited his room.

Midriya took the collar in his hand and fumbled with the plastic before sliding it off. 

The collar was a thick fabric with two long strips of foam, meant to go over the scent glands, and a thin plastic buckle at the back. It was black and plain, as one should expect from something given out by medical staff. He rubbed his thumbs over the foam. It was soft yet firm, comfortable but still able to soak up the scent. It slid over his neck and snapped in the back with a small click.

Midoriya adjusted the collar a bit, trying to center it over his glands in just the right way before finally letting go with a satisfied smile.

With his bag zipped shut, and the heat room left just as it was found, the omega eagerly left the room and beelined for the lobby. 8am! There was still enough time to take his stuff back to his dorm and make his first class in person.

As he entered the lobby, he saw some familiar faces.

Was that… his entire class?

“Deku, you’re out!” Uraraka called and waved her hand in the air excitedly. 

It’s true. His entire class was there. All 18 of them!

He couldn’t help it. After over a week of being alone in heat he ran up the group, not an ounce of hesitation, and practically tackled Bakugou in a hug. 

Alpha. The words resided in his mind as he clutched onto Bakugou like his life depended on it.

“What the fuck? Deku?” Bakugou yelled, but didn’t push him away. 

“Alpha.” This time he said it aloud in a satisfied sigh.

Though Midoriya couldn’t see it, as his face was buried in Bakugou’s chest, the alpha’s cheeks flared red and his eyes went wide. 

“Midoriya, are you quite alright?” Iida asked, putting a hand on the omega’s shoulder, not paying attention to the death glare now upon him from Bakugou.

Midoriya pulled away with a smile like the sun. “Yeah. I just missed you guys.”

“We missed you too!” Mina, Uraraka, Kirishima, Sero, and Kaminari all shouted at once. 

There was a laugh from the desk. “Izuku Midoriya, you’re all checked out. You’ve still got class, but afterwards I’m sure your friends will be happy to keep you company. And be sure to come back if you have any other concerns.”

“I will.” Midoriya waved. 

“Oh, and don’t forget the nesting materials your friends were so nice to have brought you.” Higashi said and he entered with the box of clothes and blankets. 

“I got it!” Kirishima ran to the nurse and grabbed the box before heading back to the group. 

“Alright, we have enough time to take Midoriya’s items to his dorm room and then go straight to class.” Iida announced and waved them all out of the building.

Midoriya practically skipped out of the building with Bakugou’s hand in his right and Iida’s in his left.

“So what was it like in there, Mido?” Mina asked.

“Boring.” He answered honestly. “I really miss classes in person, training, and just hanging out in the dorms with all of you.” 

“Aww, we were missing you too. It’s just not the same without both the problem kids.” Mina snickered, expecting some retaliation from Bakugou, but instead the alpha in question was oddly quiet, staring at Midoriya like some kind of alien. 

“I got an idea! Let’s run back to the dorms. Bet you’re ready to stretch those legs, huh, Midoriya?” Kaminari waved and began running. 

Midoriya chuckled. “You’re right, I do need a run.” He let go off the alpha’s hands and began jogging down the pavement, oblivious to the effect it had on the two alphas. Within seconds, the entire class was running across campus which turned to a race. Midoriya had One For All Full Cowling active as he dashed over the cement and grass. With the wind and sun on his face and class beside him, he finally felt truly happy for the first time in over a week. 

…

[bara-du-des]

(story originally by absqrst)

Mine and Agmsye's battle to the death took an odd turn, I wanted pistols at dawn, he wanted muscle stories at tumblr. 

Behind Closed Doors

Hugh breathed heavily, his face red, he was hurrying back to his dorm room. It was a nice bright sunny day, but unlike everyone else Hugh was skipping the Friday afternoon sun and heading straight back to his darkened room. 

He almost dropped his keys when he reached the door, the cute blond from across the hall was just leaving his own room. Hugh’s nerves kicked in and the 5ft5 blob of nerdy fat and grease slammed his dorm room door shut behind him to get away. As the door closed Hugh felt the all too familiar rush of magic activate, meaning he was completely alone. 

It happened 4 years ago when he was moving up into high school, Hugh was much the same as he was now, short, fat and frumpy. He’d been dreading high school for months, he knew he wouldn’t fit in, and his first day went terribly. He’d been teased and shoved by some taller more athletic kids, the jocks. 

When Hugh arrived back home from school he found a strange man in his room, more a boy, a boy with green skin. The boy introduced himself as a genie, or a djinn, Hugh couldn’t tell the difference. But Hugh was quick, before the boy could even finish listing the magical rules Hugh had already made his wish.

“I wish to be the hottest hunk right now” He’d said in his high pitch voice

There was a flash and the green skinned boy smirked. Hugh had been replaced with a tall powerfully built man, still in the clothes Hugh had worn to school, just skin tight. Hugh did what most men would do at that point, he pulled off his shirt and flexed his meaty chest and his swollen biceps. He then saw a family picture stuck onto the wall above his desk, instead of small fat Hugh it showed the new Hugh towering over his family. 

Hugh bounded out of his room, shirtless and hunky, and ran straight into his father. Just Hugh was now back to his old self, as was the Hugh in the family portraits that lined the walls of the hallway. After shouting out a quick excuse Hugh vanished back into his, the door closed and again Hugh was tall and broad. 

It was then that Hugh learned what the green skinned boy had done, he’d granted his wish, just granted it as it sounded. Hugh would turn into a hot hunk only when he was alone, like he had been when he wished to be a hot hunk ‘right now’.

But that was four years ago, a older Hugh who’d gotten used to turning into a stallion of man muscle whenever he stepped into a restroom cubicle or moved to the upper deck of an empty bus leaned back against his dorm room door. His broad back stretching out his shirt, his thick muscled ass pressed against the wooden door. 

He sighed in his deep voice and stepped further into the room, his wide sneakers thudding. He kicked them off and pulled off his shirt. He tossed it into the laundry basket. It landed on top of a pile of shirts and shorts that were at least five sizes too big for the old Hugh, but the second he stepped out of the room they would shrink back into a size more fitting of little Hugh. Didn’t mean that Hugh hadn’t spent long nights sniffing stretched out briefs that reeked like that had just spent a whole day holding up Hugh’s now massive horse cock. 

That was the odd thing about the magic, wherever Hugh was when he was alone would change to fit the new him. Shoes would grow, clothes would stretch, used condoms would appear in the trash can, but he had no idea if the world outside of his lonely bubble had changed too. 

Sometimes someone would knock on his door, a desperate voice wanting ‘Big Hugh’ to pound them like he did last night. Hugh knew better then to open the door, he did the first time it happened and he instantly turned back into his old self, looking out to an empty hallway only for the cock hungry voice to return the second the door closed and he grew into his hunky lonely body. 

Hugh dropped his pants and briefs, his soft horsedick slapped against his meaty thighs. He passed his bed and a chest of draws, stopping to stretch his muscles out. He loved the feeling of them popped and flexing like they’d never been used before. 

He dropped his thick ass onto his desk chair. His blinds were drawn tightly shut and his room was dark. His computer was on and open to his Skype account. A picture of Hugh in a Captain America cosplay popped up in the corner as his profile picture. It had changed from the misshaped Captain he’d been when it was taken to one that looked more like Captain American then the one in the movies. Hugh’s magical muscle body near to bursting out of the tight red and blue uniform. 

Hugh’s Skype was alive with messages from guys wanting to chat with him. All of them desperate to see his thoughts about the latest video games or to see his newest shirtless pic. None of these people existed on Hugh’s Skype when he was his original small self.

One guy asked for a video chat, Hugh was reluctant, he didn’t know if there being someone at the other end of the Skype call meant he wasn’t alone anymore. He shuffled in his seat, his huge bull nuts shifted between his legs. He bounced his pecs and scratched nervously at his abs. His finger hovered over the mouse, the cursor about to click on the camera option for Skype, Hugh didn’t want to be alone anymore. 

[ketho484]

I've got par 5! It took a bit because I needed help with a few parts of this chapter, but I'm happy with the result! See you in part 6!

Au by @frillsand

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Chapter 5: Dance till dawn

Things were back on track for a while. Willow was happier since the letter and the whole cast made sure to pitch in to make her smile genuinely. Today was their day off, thankfully, so Wally decided they should all do something fun together. The cast went into a mass text and started pitching ideas. Julie questioned why Willow wasn’t on the message board, but Wally stated not only does her house have no service and barely enough electricity, but she doesn’t have a phone. According to what Wally was told, that house only has a landline. Ideas were pitched for hours. Sally suggested the theater, but then they all remembered that Willow was always nervous in big crowds. Barnaby suggested the water park as it was getting warmer out, Frank followed up by suggesting the aquarium. Both of those suggestions had the same problem as the theater. Big crowds. Julie suggested a cat cafe, but they didn’t know if she had any allergies, so no go. Howdy suggested a simple visit to the city park, and while everyone liked that idea, due to Summer fast approaching, it would be best to table that for later in the year. Poppy suggested going to a build-a-bear, but that still had the crowds problem, though they chose to save that idea for Willow’s birthday. Back and forth they went with ideas ranging from the library to the movies or even the zoo. Eventually, Eddie got a quick break to jump in, as he had been doing some laundry, and mentioned going to the arcade. The crowds would basically be lines, the place wasn’t too pig to get lost in, and they could all go and play together. They all settled on the arcade and decided to meet at 11:30. Wally smiled and ran for his car, wearing a disguise and keeping his hair down as he drove down to the suburbs to pick up Willow.

Another argument was brewing in the house. Willow had been locked in her room by her father again and her mother was trying to defend her. Willow always loved how nice her momma was, even if the little puppet was adopted by humans. A knock came to the door and Jessica answered. She immediately recognised Wally and smiled while her husband ranted in the background.

“Mr. Darling! So good to see you” She said with a smile “How can I help you?”

“My friends and I are heading to the arcade and I figured Willow might like to join us” Wally explained simply

“Oh! That sounds lovely! I’ll go get her” Jessica said as she gently closed the door. Not a minute later, Willow ran out of the house and hugged Wally tightly

Wally was rather surprised, to say the least. He hugged her back as Jessica smiled and closed the door. Wally could feel Willow trembling as he picked her up and started heading to the car. He got her strapped in before heading to a local arcade called The Neon Palace. A bit flashy, but still good. Wally parked and brought Willow inside, paying for their day in this big building before meeting the others inside.

“You made it!” Barnaby greeted as the cast followed him to meet the two yellow puppets

“Her parents were fighting again, so it took some time for me to get her calm enough to come in” Wally explained

“Well, you’re here now” Sally smiled and ruffled Willow’s hair, making her giggle “Let’s have fun!”

With that, they played in the arcade all day together. They played games, had food, and played laser tag. It was some of the most fun Willow ever had. People did recognise them here and there, but otherwise, they were mostly left alone. That, however, changed when Willow pulled Wally to a large game that was built to house four players of any shape, size, or species.

“What’s this game?” Willow asked as the cast followed them, interested by the colorful arrows on the ground

“This is Dance Dance Revolution, or DDR” Wally explained “It’s a dancing game”

“I wanna play it!” Willow smiled as she pulled Wally onto the platforms with her

“Wait for me! I’m playing too!” Julies said as she happily jumped onto the platform furthest to the right. Someone got onto the platform furthest to the left, and it was… “Frank?”

“Surprised, Julie?” Frank gave the surprised puppets a big smirk “I’ll have you know that when I was ten, I had the top score on this very console. For five years running”

“Oh really?” Wally smiled as Frank nodded “I suppose we have our work cut out for us, don’t we?”

“If we’re doing it on easy mode, then-”

“No!” Willow cut Frank off “I wanna see how much I can take! I wanna do the hardest mode in the game!”

“...You wanna do expert mode?” Poppy asked nervously, getting a nod from Willow “Are you sure? You might hurt something if you run out of breath”

“I say we test her limits” Julie piped up “If she needs a break, we’ll take a small break”

“Sounds good to me” Wally stated, Frank and Willow both giving a nod

With that, the tokens were put in place, elimination mode was selected, and the first song was chosen: POP/STARS by KDA. The dancing was incredibly complicated, though Willow got the hang of it rather quickly. Julie had the hardest time as she was more used to games like Just Dance and Dance Central, and she ended up losing the first round because of that with Frank barely beaten by Wally, who won that round. Julie got off as some people started coming to watch. The second song was chosen: Other Friends-Electro Swing Remix by Chi-Chi. This time, Willow won the round with Frank ending up in last. With apologies from the yellow puppets and his pride now wounded, Frank went to Eddie and smooshed his face into the actor’s chest, making the poor guy blush like mad. Before they chose the song for the last round, they could see everyone doing something just behind them. Howdy got curious and approached the nearby staff.

“What’s going on?” He asked

“The guests are betting their tickets on who will win” The staff member stated “Frank losing meant all the tickets they bet on him went to that kid”

Howdy immediately came back over and explained the situation to the others. That got them excited pretty quickly. The rest of the cast went and bet their own tickets, making Wally smile, unaware that Willow was choosing the next song until he saw what she chose. Stamp on the Ground by ItaloBrothers. This song on Expert mode was the single hardest song in DDR. The crowd, and even the cast, pulled out their phones to get a recording as the song began. The dancing was really hard and Wally lost his breath after the first verse, but Willow was still going strong. She was practically dancing circles around him, even when she too was out of breath. She wore a look of determination, never once looking down at her feet as she kept dancing. When the song ended, Wally had to lean on the support rails behind him to stand while Willow looked up at the scores. She won. The crowd cheered at this surprise victory. Willow won the elimination rounds. Wally leaned down and hugged her tightly as all the tickets that had been bet on them were brought forward, Willow getting them as a reward. Willow’s first competition won, and people were actually proud of what she had accomplished. She spent the tickets on prizes for everyone in the cast as a way to thank them. Julie got a neck pillow, Sally got a rainbow speaker, Howdy got a board game, Barnaby got three packs of juggling balls, both Frank and Eddie got these big plushies, and Wally got both a guitar and a big painter’s set. Willow just got a small stuffed toy bunny rabbit, one with nanny cams inside the eyes.

With a look of determination and mild fear, she gave the tablet it went with to Wally. It was hooked with a mic and a speaker so they could talk after she went home. Wally sighed and held the tablet close as the cast all carried their stuff to the door, ready to go home. It was already rather dark outside, so the cast parted ways and went home. Wally dropped Willow off at her house and drove home. Wally lived in a rather large manor on a hill that overlooked the city, one that could be described as looking to be made of gold, silver, and marble. Wally went into his house and went up two flights of stairs to reach his bedroom. He got ready for bed before turning on the tablet. Through the eyes of that plush bunny Willow held tightly to her chest, he could see she was laying on some cloth scraps in the sewing room of the house. Was that her bedroom? Through the microphone, he could not only hear Willow crying, but he could hear her parents shouting at each other. It was painful to watch, painful to hear. This poor little puppet had to live with this? The parents sounded like they were fighting over Willow having the stuffed bunny. It made Wally sick to his stomach that Eric would be so mad about it, seeing as it sounded like Jessica was trying to defend Willow. Wally turned on the speaker, making sure the function’s volume was low enough for the parents not to hear him. He didn’t want Willow being caught with a device like this. He took a deep breath and did what he knew worked before. He sang a song for her:

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away”

Willow stopped crying when she heard him singing through the doll, turning it to face him. It felt like she was looking at Wally through the bunny’s eyes as he kept going, looking at her through the tablet he held in his hands.

“The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you in my arms

When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken

And I hung my head and cried

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine

You make me happy when skies are gray

You'll never know, dear, how much I love you

Please don't take my sunshine away”

Wally looked at her, seeing she’d fallen asleep. He smiled and turned off the mic on his side. He could still hear Eric yelling at Jessica. That man had clearly been hurting his family. This couldn’t go on. He had to find some dirt on this guy. He had to get him away from Willow…

…Anything to protect that innocent little kid