#i feel like the guy connecting red string on a board of photos

[alnazarcana]

why have i never seen anyone mention the fact morga's eyes go black when she speaks to her familiar and can someone tell me what's going on with that ? has that ever been elaborated ?

[xiewho]

not to also be in tc denial but i cant see how this conversation won't include gorgug saying in some way that he joined the owlbears to spend time with fabian. what other reason would he have to be on the team for so long if not to hang out with him or something 😭

nno cause. youre so right like what reason do u have other than u wanna spend time with ur bff . like 'if i get to be with u then that's enough for me !!' . its ok anon if we hold hands when the episode drops then through the power of friendship and Believing this WILL get referenced in the ep. godspeed

[carlosfruitsnacks]

your favorite worst nightmare - part 3

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5

summary:

— As you get closer to solving the case, you have another encounter with the serial killer only to find a revelation through bloody fists and a kiss

genre:

— serial killer x detective au & aged-up

notes:

— female reader. I do not speak fluent Spanish and all of the Spanish here is translated from google, feel free to correct me if I got something wrong.

warning/s:

— mentions violence, & foul language/cussing

a/n:

— part 3, let's fucking gooooo 

After many days of struggling and chugging down gallons of coffee, you could confidently say you made progress on the serial killer case you were working on. With just a little more you'll be able to crack the case and close it with the killer behind bars. Although you're behind on your sleeping schedule, it was hard to catch up because of this unwavering paranoia washing over you whenever you closed your eyes to sleep. Due to that, you asked to stay over at Mirabel's place so you won't be alone or vulnerable.

You had your nth coffee when Camilo knocked on your office door, he lets himself inside and was greeted with several papers scattered on the floor and a bulletin board filled with information. You stand from your chair and cast him a proud smile.

"I think I did it, Camilo"

"What? You found the serial killer?"

"Not really, but I think I got something"

You ushered Camilo towards the bulletin board where you spent days filling it with clues and details. Camilo raised a brow as he eyed all the pictures pinned on the board, all of them were connected by a singular red string.

"We got our first lead of the killer through a surveillance photo from a hotel where the first victim was killed"

"And then we got our second from a makeup store's records matching the description of the first"

"Hours ago, I got a call from a convenience store and they got a video of a guy purchasing a Malboro red and a red-colored lighter on the night he killed someone"

Camilo watched you point at the pictures on the board, all of them displaying a masked and hooded guy with curly auburn hair sticking out of his head. He noticed that you made a massive amount of progress after your last encounter with the serial killer himself.

"He was spotted at the locations just blocks apart from each other. So, it's possible this bastard lives somewhere near all three of the locations..."

"And...?"

"I did a little more research and...I think I got the killer's address"

You exhaled and smiled at Camilo, the guy's face displayed bewilderment as he stammered over his words. The way he was speechless flattered you. Filled with excitement, you grinned ear to ear as you waited for Camilo to say something. He gulped and looked at you.

"Wow, well, what are we waiting for? Let's raid the fucker's place!"

"No! Wait!"

You stopped Camilo from walking out of the door. He looked at you surprised. You bit your bottom lip and avoided his eyes.

"What's wrong, [Name]?"

"...I'm still unsure of the killer's address so I'm planning on confirming it tonight"

"Oh, cool! I'll come with you—"

"No, I'm doing this alone, Camilo"

Your friend furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed your shoulders, shaking you. Camilo's face was full of disbelief.

"¡Estas loca! I'm not letting you go on your own, [Name]!"

"I have to, I can't let you get hurt or end up like Pablo"

Camilo lets go of you and pursed his lips, he ran a nervous hand through his hair as he released a sigh.

"[Name] that's sweet but even if it's not really the killer's address, I won't let you go out by yourself after what happened to you after Pablo was killed!"

"Just trust me on this, Camilo. I'm not as defenseless as you think I am"

"I'm not saying you're defenseless! I'm just saying what if something bad happens to you and I'm not there to protect you?"

"I'm not a damsel in distress! And I don't need you coming to protect me every fucking time!"

You and Camilo argued. You didn't like that Camilo was perceiving you as a vulnerable girl when you're literally a grown woman who can handle herself. Filled with frustration for your co-worker, you grabbed your things and stormed out of your office. Camilo tries to stop you by grabbing your arm but you pulled it away, giving him a mad glare. You slam the door shut behind you leaving Camilo frowning.

Before the stroke of midnight, you climbed into your car and started the engine as you began your drive towards the suspected address of the serial killer. During the drive, you took deep breaths in hopes it would calm your heartbeat down. You put your phone into silent mode after Camilo has tried calling you for an hour. Not even thirty minutes after you parked across a one-story house, you zipped up your jacket and hopped out of the vehicle.

The air was cold and crisp as you crossed the street toward the house. You checked your surroundings confirming that nobody was around before approaching the property. You crossed the fence and sneaked to the nearest window. You took a cautious peek inside and saw it was dark, most likely nobody was home. Turning on your flashlight, you went to the back of the house and spotted the backdoor. Quickly, you checked if the door was locked, and when it was, you immediately began picking on the lock.

It didn't take long for you to get inside the house. You held in a breath as you flashed your light around, you found yourself in a kitchen. You walked forward, carefully exploring the place. When you confirmed that you were alone in the house, you went to flip on the light switch. The place was well-kept, but it lacked decorations and furniture, and it hinted that only one person was staying.

"Okay, let's see what we have here"

You entered the kitchen. There was no food on the table nor in the cupboards, but there was a refrigerator. Curiously, you went to open it only to gag at the sight. There were several huge jars filled with human hearts. You hold back the urge to vomit as you took out your phone and took a picture of the contents in the refrigerator.

"Jar of hearts, yup this is definitely his place"

You took several shots of the house with your phone when you heard a rustle outside the window. With a gasp stuck in your throat, you whipped your head around. Your heart begins to pound rapidly against your ribcage as you went to check where the noise came from. You nervously took a look outside, searching for a stray animal in the bushes. To your relief, a cat crawls out of one of the bushes.

"Oh thank god—mmmfffh!"

All of a sudden, a hand was slapped against your mouth. A strong arm grabs you by the abdomen and pulls you. Swiftly, you began panicking and started kicking your legs. Somebody has grabbed you and is now pulling you away from the door. Your fight or flight senses kicked in as you used your elbow to hit your abductor in the gut. The hands successfully release you as you made the run to the door but a hand manages to grab your ankle sending you tumbling down.

You screamed when you were pulled by the ankle, you took a look at who was preventing you from escaping and froze. It was the killer you're after and he was not wearing a mask or a shirt. You began to sweat when he smirks at you, his hands putting a strong hold on you as he forced you to look at him. His face and bare torso were filled with freckles, he had a mole near his eye and the look on his face was dangerous.

"Look what we have here"

"...You"

"Yes, it's me again. Did you miss me, amor?"

He teased. You growled and decided to punch him in the face, he cursed and stumbled back, releasing you. But before you can get away again, he tackled you down to the floor, and you groaned. He clicked his tongue.

"You better calm down or I'll fucking cut you up"

You didn't listen to him as you tried to wiggle away from his hold. He gritted his teeth in anger as he threw his fist at your face. You gasped but continued to resist, he glared at you and punched you again. You whimpered as he struck you on the face many times to the point there were bruises and bleeding. But you didn't give up, with your remaining strength you pushed him off of you and reached for the gun attached to your hip. You aimed it at him.

"Smart girl"

"Shut the fuck up"

You spat at him as you backed away from him. He slowly raised his hands, seemingly prepared to surrender. You can feel blood dripping down your nostril as you keep your gaze on him, afraid that if you looked away he'll attack again.

"It's kinda weird that you don't remember me, [Name]"

"...How do you know my name?"

He pulls out something from his pockets and showed you your id. He sends you a cocky smile when your eyes widened.

"Detective [Name] [Surname], right?"

"I'm gonna fucking put you behind bars you sick fuck!"

"I'd like to see you try"

As your finger slides into the trigger, he charges at you and wrestles the gun out of your hand with great strength. He hits you in the face again and you noticed how bloody his fists were. He steals the gun from you as you screamed, and he puts his hand around your throat, proceeding to choke you against a wall. He laughed, and at this terrifying moment, you wished you could've let Camilo come with you. You froze, and while gasping for air, you realized how the killer looked so much like Camilo.

"...Fu-fuck!"

"Oh, hush now sweetheart"

He said as he unexpectedly crashed his lips against yours. You squeaked and clawed at him but you can feel yourself growing weak with his hand squeezing your neck. His lips begin to move, it was fueled with intense emotion. He ends the kiss and by that time you can see the blackness creeping into the corner of your eyes.

"I missed you, [Name]"

As you were about to lose consciousness, it was when you had a sudden revelation. Your eyes looked at him, taking in his features and memories come flooding back. Your eyes water, it can't be...

"...Ca-Ca...Carlos?"

It was all you managed to say before you blacked out due to lack of oxygen. He carries your body towards the nearest chair and grabbed some restraints as he tightly tied you in place. He tucks a stray hair behind your ear and sighs.

"Took you long enough to remember"

taglist: @pochi-moochika , @cahmilo , @vanevafu , @irisia-ckzkb1109 , @elegantkidfansoul , @candykamikun , @justzei , @try-cry-why-try , @nanaisheretomessupthings , @eichenhouseproperty , @nort-the-simp , @megs2world, @ducky-is-dead-inside ...join here

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[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

COSMIC - S3:E3; Chapter Three, The Case Of The Missing Lifeguard - [Pt. 6 - FINAL]

A Will Byers x Reader Series

𝘌𝘭 𝘨𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘞𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥, 𝘞𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘋&𝘋. 𝘋𝘶𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘙𝘰𝘣𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘶𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘨𝘦.

⚠️: anxiety [but no attacks], drugged food/drink, chloroform

||𝟑𝐑𝐃 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐎𝐕||

Through the heavy mist of rain, two beams of light emerge up the rain-soaked road. Behind it, two pairs of bikes; their riders — and one passenger — hidden under brightly colored rain slickers of red, yellow, and blue.

A flash of lightning erupts over their hunched figures, revealing the grim faces of El, Max, and Y/n.

With a wet screech, their tires skid against the pavement as they come to a sudden halt beside a very familiar mailbox.

"Is this it?" Max asks.

El steps off the back of Max's bike, her trepid features looking out over the front lawn and her gut sinks.

1438. Same red door? This had to be it.

El nods.

But what were they about to find?

That question had been rattling around Y/n's head all day, tangling her stomach into knots. Those knots only tightened when her friends began up the driveway.

She steals another anxious glance out from under her azure hood before joining them. Wincing against the mud trailing under her shoes as they sink into the grass, her stomach plummets when she spots the car taking up the rest of the driveway space: Billy's car.

Y/n sighed.

"Remember when this a regular sleepover?" She wonders aloud. "That was fun."

"Y/n, I'm sure it's fine. Come on," Max eases, genuinely trying to be helpful.

Y/n nearly argued with her. That there had to be something going on cause she had been feeling wrong about things since the night Dustin got home — since Will had started acting up. She wanted to argue that if El felt this strongly too, then it would be unmistakable. That something was going on.

But she didn't and she couldn't say why.

So here she and her friends now stood, hair clinging to their face in the humid summer rain, ready to investigate the newest mystery.

El's focus zeroed in on the door, and the muted click of the deadbolt unlocking itself reached their ears. And slowly, the red door crept open to reveal their figures.

Despite her fears, El stepped inside first with a newfound determination. Max lingered by Y/n, still adjusting to the reality of it all. Y/n's eyes catch her in a weak, knowing smile.

"Takes some getting used to, I know," said Y/n, reminded all too well of her last impromptu investigative adventure with El.

Max smiled a little after Y/n as she stepped inside before following in her footsteps, closing the door behind them.

The front entrance was short, and spit the girls out in a narrow, olive-green hallway lined with family portraits. Each of them featured a familiar face, the same face they had seen from the lifeguard info board: Heather Holloway.

As they trailed the halls, their soaked faces reflected in the glass of an all too happy family photo.

"This is her house," Max realizes.

"What?" El asks. That couldn't be right, could it? But Billy...

"Heather's house," Max confirmed.

"Billy's car was out front," Y/n mumbles. "Do you think he—"

The sound of a woman's laughter echoed out, pulling their attention down the hall. It was then they realized, they could hear the distant sound of music playing mingled in.

It didn't take them long to find the front living room. Coasters holding empty glasses were left forgotten on the coffee table, and from around the corner in the connecting dining room, they found a most unlikely sight.

Billy at the dining room table with the older couple from the photo; Heather's parents. They were all laughing and smiling. With Billy. It was as if they had somehow stepped into a creepy, picture-perfect, alternate reality.

"Isn't that cute, huh?" Billy had been saying, his face lit up in a friendly smile that didn't seem right to them.

The woman's laughter died out in an amused giggle, wine glass hung from her hand after a lazy sip. "He's so funny!"

Her voice trialed when all three pairs of eyes land on the three girls, gawking more or less in the living room.

Billy's smile never faltered when his eyes landed on his sister and her friends.

"Max!"

The couple at the dinner table bore vastly different reactions, despite the common shock.

"We didn't mean to... barge in," Max explains, still a little stunned with her brother's sudden unusual behavior. "We tried to knock, but... maybe you didn't hear us over the storm."

Billy didn't answer, he only stared blankly ahead as he chewed on his mouthful of steak. Mr. Holloway didn't let them off so easily.

"I'm sorry," he snarks, speaking to Billy as if they weren't really there. "who is this dripping all over my living room right now?"

Y/n bites her tongue. Her eyes were unable to pry themselves from the complete stranger calling himself Billy, wracking her brain as to how this could be the same person who had attacked Lucas. The one she heard horror stories about from Max, the one who shot her annoyed, rotten looks her way whenever she visited. Y/n could only imagine how Max must be feeling.

"I'm sorry," Billy let out a charming laugh, gesturing between his dinner hosts. "Janet, Tom, this... is my sister Maxine."

"Oh!" Chirped the woman, Janet, with a smile, further annoying her husband.

Billy rose from the dinner table and made his way towards the three utterly baffled teenagers in a tone so unsettlingly casual and upbeat.

"What on earth are you doing here?" He asks. "Is something wrong?"

"We just... wanted to make sure everything was okay," Max stammered, just as confused as her friends.

A look of concern flashed over Billy's face as he inched closer. "Okay? Why wouldn't it be okay?"

El had never officially met Billy, but she knew in her core how wrong everything felt. This was not the same man who she had heard so many awful things about, and this certainly was not the man who she had found in the void. Like her friends, El didn't know what to do. All she could do was watch, rooted to the spot right of Max as Billy seems to loom over them, his eyes drilled into Max's.

El couldn't take it anymore. This had to be an act. After all, El knew all too well how to spot when someone was playing nice. When someone was hiding their real intentions. She had learned how to it long ago in the lab.

"Where is she?" El all but growls.

His eyes snap to El, and she could have sworn she almost saw that mask break.

"I'm sorry," he said slowly. "Where is who?"

"Well, they're a little burnt, I'm sorry,"

All eyes turn to the chipper young girl striding in with a tray of cookies in her hands and a lingering smile on her face.

Heather.

The only troubled thing about her was the crisp cinnamon cookies in her hands. She had trailed off upon noticing the three young visitors.

"Heather!" Billy smiles, welcoming her as if she was an old friend.

El looked like she was seeing a ghost.

"This is my sister, Maxine," Billy chirps, turning back to the three confused girls. "And I'm sorry," he says to El, with an almost edge to his voice. "I did not quite catch your name."

El finally tore her eyes away from Heather, her mind racing. She might not have understood how she could be standing here, with Billy, as if nothing had happened, but she knew it had. Billy was hiding something, even if Max couldn't see it.

With a determined look in her eyes, she matches his steely gaze.

"El."

His smile, so fake it reminded her of plastic, never wavered. The unnamed look in his eyes flaring up.

"El." He hums. "What a pleasure it is to meet you El. And of course, who could possibly forget..."

El's stomach turns when Billy looks to her right. His movements were stiff and smooth, like a marionette puppet on strings, his eyes unblinking landed on her for the first time since they arrived.

"Y/n."

The sound of her name on his tongue made her skin crawl, his voice all the way in the back of his throat.

She was soaked to the bone, but the only chill Y/n felt came from Billy's unwavering stare on her. It was then she realized what was off about him, other than his unusual behavior. It was his eyes. Everything about him and his actions were warm and inviting, completely unbothered.

But his eyes... They were cold. Far away, and detached. And as he looked at her now, that crack in his mask was undeniable. And it widened to reveal something else entirely.

An untamed, hidden rage.

Billy inched closer to her in a single, nearly unnoticeable step.

And so did El. Wedging herself in between her friend and Billy.

Y/n hadn't said a word since seeing him, and she was glad she hadn't. But she didn't need to. The look in her eyes spoke volumes, challenging the look in his.

Hardly any time had passed, she realized, when Billy shakes his head with a laugh.

"Why, it's only my little sister's best friend." Her glare remains, and he glances at the Holloways. "Now please," he chirped, his gaze hardening as it zeroes in on El. "What is it you ladies were saying?"

There was a newer edge to his voice, a smug one. Almost as if he knew he had them cornered.

"You were..." They flicker back over Y/n, before resting back on El. "looking for somebody?"

El looked between him and Heather, her brain scrambling to make things connect. None of it added up. The void never lied to her. It had been misleading, and troublesome more often than not but everything she saw was real.

"I-I..."

So why wasn't this?

"I saw you—"

"Your manager." Max cuts in, quickly grabbing Heather's attention away from El. "At the pool. He said you guys didn't come into work today, so we got worried."

"Heather wasn't feeling so hot today," eases Billy. "so we thought we'd take the day off and nurse her back to health."

With that same, haunting smile, he looks back at Heather with a pointed look in his eye.

"But you're feeling just fine right now. Aren't ya Heather?"

"I'm feeling so much better," she assured.

Billy returns to the girls, calculated but smiling.

"Do you girls want a cookie?" Heather asks, finally managing to tear Y/n's challenging glare off of Billy. "They're fresh out of the oven,"

Thunder rumbled as Y/n looked her over, the booming in the sky matching what she felt thudding in her chest. Y/n couldn't help but feel like Hansel and Grettle as she looked upon the delicious tray of cookies, held out before her with a sickly sweet smile she couldn't at all bring herself to trust.

If she wasn't hurt... just what was going on?

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Disparaged and thoroughly disturbed, the girls pick up their bikes where they had stashed them at the bottom of the porch steps.

Out of habit, Y/n swipes away the rain on her seat as if it would make a difference. The only thing she succeeds in doing is spreading the water all over the leather, and she sighed, accepting her mind was elsewhere.

Billy was up to something. She just wished she knew what.

As she watches El join Max down the lawn, Y/n stands rooted to the spot, rain pouring down her back as she lingers.

She could feel him watching her.

And when she looked over her shoulder to see him leaning in the doorway, he was.

Her worried gaze hardened in spite as she stared back. His lips spring into a forced smile, his eyes still a dark nothing. Finally, she turns, hidden under the deep blue of her raincoat before retreating into the night with El and Max.

The smile fell away from his face as quick as she looked away, and a poisonous scowl quickly took its place. In those same stiff movements, he stepped behind the door as he closed it, lingering behind the windowpane as his eyes locked on their retreating forms.

His heart pounds dangerously loud in his chest as he watches her.

He feels his brow furrow, revolted.

He knew he had recognized her since she first stepped inside — he could feel the heat lingering from down the hall just as he remembered it.

The pain wasn't just fresh, it was still there.

He could still feel it, as searing and unforgiving as it had been that night.

《•••》

The world bent at her will; everything not screwed to the walls or floors broke loose as the cabin moved around all inside it. It was a movement so forceful and demanding, it moved all of Hawkins. A guttural battle cry pierced the air as her powers exploded into an unstoppable force that had awakened her full potential.

《•••》

He watched in a mixture of fear and hatred as she joined her friends in mounting their bikes. And for a moment, the small, dying part of Billy tries to understand why until he loses himself in another unfamiliar memory.

He had been having them all day — seeing her — all day.

《•••》

Her s/c skin began to glow like a star, the cosmic force at work pumping hard through her veins. The three figures watched in awe as she comes alive, all the while his small and trembling frame twisting and kicking as he is engulfed in searing pain.

《•••》

Fury pumped fast through his veins like ice, desperate to cool his already freezing body. He was filled with a powerful cocktail of anger, frustration, and terror. A feeling Billy was used to. But this...

Somehow, this was also something else entirely. And it was all Billy felt now and all he remembers before the world goes black again.

His pupils dilate and closing in around them are several black veins that cloud the whites of his eyes as he remembers.

《•••》

His screams vibrate with his body before his small frame shrinks in on itself like a dead spider. He straightens in seconds, his head, hands, and feet now glued to the bed as he bends in one final arc, his chest rising to the heavens. His mouth opens in another scream and a billowing cloud of inky black smoke escapes. It twists and unravels out from between his lips like a pitch-black tornado.

《•••》

There was no more denying it.

It was her.

He couldn't have forgotten her or her poisonous touch if he had tried.

It was bad enough that pesky, foolish child to have awakened him — to have shut him out — was here and had been watching him.

But she would have her uses. A means to an end.

All in good time.

But the other? The one to have made him feel a pain worse than death?

Well, the Mind Flayer was determined to return the favor.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

As Will mingled with the dirt beneath him, the storm pounding against his back soaking him to the bone, he feels it again.

The same feeling he had felt the night before Dustin's return, the day of, and now...

Well, there was no denying it. No more running. This was real, and it wasn't something so easily shaken.

A great change was upon him and his friends, a change none of them were prepared for.

Shakily, he pulls himself to his feet, not entirely sure if the voice calling his name was real.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

With a faraway look in his eyes, Will turns to his awaiting friends as his stomach plummets beneath the earth.

"He's back."

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

"He was singin' Bye bye Miss American Pie..."

Billy returns to the dinner table where Heather and her family awaits, the record player blasting an upbeat, melancholy tune to fill the silence.

"Is everything alright?" Heather asks, as he returns to his seat.

"Yes. Everything's fine," he assures.

"Your sister really didn't want to stay?" Janet asks with a frown.

"No, she's just not... you know, really a people person."

"Well," she says, fingers twitching numbly with the napkin in her lap. "I just don't like the idea of them out there in the storm like that."

"Oh, they'll be fine,"

Nervously, she reaches for her glass, not expecting her movements to be so sluggish. She yelps softly when her knuckles collide with the glass, knocking the wine out onto the table cloth.

"I told you to slow down on that wine, Janet," Tom grumbles from across the table.

"Yes, darling," she mumbles, embarrassed, as she dabs at the spill.

"Are you okay, Mommy?" Asks Heather.

"Yes, I'm— I'm just..." she stutters, doing her best to shake away the dizziness swarming her brain. "feeling a little lightheaded is all."

Billy boredly takes a bite of his food, sharing a discreet, fleeting look with Heather.

"Hm," Tom hums knowingly. "It's all that wine."

"I'm sorry," she says, fighting hard to keep her eyes open. "Um, if you'll excuse me, I'm just gonna go upstairs and lie down for a bit."

It takes all her effort to pull herself out of the chair, and she has to use the arms to hoist herself up but she eventually does the job. But she never reaches the end of the living room before she collapsed with a thud.

"Janet?" Tom asks, jumping to his feet.

"...half-time air was sweet perfume..."

Billy pulls a small glass vile from the floor with little interest. All the while, Tom threw himself to floor by his wife's side in a panic.

"Janet? Janet? Janet!"

With as little enthusiasm as Billy, Heather rose from her seat taking the wine bottle in hand. The record player continued its song louder than ever as Billy tipped the bottle of chloroform into the tablecloth napkin.

"Janet!" He turns to his approaching daughter. "Call 911! Call 91—"

Heather had struck him in the head with the wine bottle before he could finish.

"...never got the chance..."

Billy rose from his seat, leaning himself against the wall of the dining room as he hands Heather the napkin. She was advancing on her father, painstakingly slow as he tried so hard to crawl away to safety. But like his wife, moments before, the world had become a blur.

And it remained so even when he felt the sharp heel of his daughters shoe piecing his skin. Her fingers yanked at his hair, pulling his bloodied face out of the carpet. Before he could make sense of anything, he heard her detached voice in his ear.

"I'm really sorry about this, Daddy, but it'll all be over soon, I promise."

"We started singin' Bye bye Miss America Pie"

He tried to scream, but his voice died out in the chloroform soaked rag and the world went black.

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[wakatoshine]

all summer long (miya osamu x reader) part 1

after a disastrous confession, you find yourself running away from your problems and finding shelter in the countryside at your mother’s coworker’s summer camp in hyogo. you never had the intention of making friends, but something changes when you meet a certain grey haired counselor and his interesting group of friends

word count: 4.1k

you hadn’t meant to fall in love with your best friend’s cousin during your second year of highschool, but here you were. crying in sakusa kiyoomi’s basement as he awkwardly tried to comfort with you.

you and kiyoomi had known each other since second grade. your parents had attended university together and had stayed friends since. you grew especially close to the sakusa family after the passing of your father during junior high. since then, it was easier to find you at the sakusa household than your own.

komori motoya had entered your life early on as well, it was impossible to ignore him since he was in fact your best friend’s cousin.

you had realized your feelings for the brown haired boy two weeks into your first year at itachiyama, and had confessed the first week of the break leading up to your third year.

maybe you should’ve seen it coming when he had said he thought of you as a sister. i mean, the kid was completely blindsided by your confession. it’s not like you had given any signs of your liking for the boy.

“y/n can you calm down i don’t want your snot all over my couch,” sakusa said, bringing you out of your own thoughts.

you laughed dryly, and sakusa shot you a serious look. you know he was being serious.

“you know omi, i was kinda hoping toya would say yes, you know?” you said pitifully, wiping your tears away with the sleeve of your hoodie (that happened to be komori’s).

“but he didn’t, and you shouldn’t be spending your whole summer break moping around about it.” sakusa stated, handing you a box of tissues.

“it’s not like i could even though i wanted to, there’s a reason why i chose to confess this weekend,” you told the curly haired boy.

sakusa sent you a questioning look, so you graciously chose to elaborate instead of keeping your shroud of mystery.

“i have a job,” you said, “i’m being a camp counselor at this summer camp in hyogo. i knew that if i confessed now i’d be able to run away from any problems it would cause,”

sakusa scrunched his nose, “hyogo, huh?”

you nodded, “mom’s coworker needed a favor, do you have a problem with it?”

sakusa shook his head, “no, i just know someone from there. he’s quite problematic.”

“i’m glad that you’re so worried about me omi, but there’s no need it’s not like i’ll make any connections. it’s just a summer job it’s not like i’ll be going back,” you said, gently pushing him on the shoulder.

“don’t touch me with your snotty hands y/n, that’s disgusting,” sakusa bites out.

you roll your eyes, “only since you asked so kindly.”

extra #1

the first thing you noticed when you stepped onto the train platform in hyogo three days later was the heat. you could already feel beads of sweat form on the nape of your neck.

the change in scenery did not go unnoticed by you. the tall concrete buildings of your neighborhood in tokyo had been replaced by greenery and blue sky. the air felt clearer, and you felt relaxed.

after sending a text to sakusa (and komori reluctantly) that you made it, you start searching for your mom’s coworker in the small crowd of people waiting at the station.

“y/n chan!” you heard someone call. you spot an older lady with clipped brown hair and warm brown eyes.

“watanabe-san,” you greeted, “thank you for picking me up,”

the watanabe matriarch smiled at you, “no need to be so formal! i’m so glad your mom agreed to have you join our staff this summer! the other counselors are excited to meet you!” she said while shaking your hand.

you opened the back door and put your suitcases in the back seat before slipping into the passenger side.

“i’m happy to be here,” you offered weakly, trying to play off your nervousness.

you had never considered yourself to be good with children, so working at a summer camp was quite out of your comfort zone. watanabe had told you that you’re a good fit for the job, but you couldn’t help but be a little self conscious of your lack of experience.

the further and further down the road watanabe drove, the more the scenery changed from small houses and neighborhoods to sprawling fields of rice and various grains. two hours into the drive, the farmland transformed into dense forestry. you were approaching your final destination.

you checked your phone, the reception was gone. you had expected this, and came prepared with envelopes and stamps to write letters to sakusa and your family when you were away. you turned your phone off and pocketed it in your backpack. it would stay there the duration of the summer.

watanabe pulled in front of a run down cabin, “this is where you and your group of campers will be staying. after you drop your luggage off i’ll walk you to main camp where the other counselors are waiting,” she explained.

the unit contained two other cabins besides yours, the other female counselors waved at you and you waved back.

the cabin itself was quite nice on the inside. there were six bunk beds for the campers, and a cubby with a single bed for you and your belongings.

you’d be living there for the next three months, so you packed quite a bit of things from your room so you wouldn’t feel too homesick.

one of them being a few strings of fairy lights, which you decided to hang over the ceiling of the cabin and not just in your area. other decorations you had brought with you included curtains, a carpet, and various board games you planned to play with the kids.

an hour later, you stood in front of the photo wall you created over your bed. there were currently only ten or so photos, most of them pictures of you with your family and friends. your favorites being the time izuna had treated you to ice cream but then spilled your order all over himself (komori had somehow caught it on camera), the photo of you and sakusa from fifth grade in your matching uniforms, and the picture of you with the itachiyama volleyball team after their nationals win earlier this year.

you sighed and gently chastised yourself for getting stuck in your own head when watanabe was most likely sitting on the picnic table right outside your cabin waiting for you.

after reapplying a substantial amount of deodorant and slipping into one of sakusa’s old practice shirts, you stepped outside and told watanabe you were ready to go.

the walk to main camp was about ten minutes, somewhere along the way watanabe had mentioned that your unit was the furthest away from the main attractions.

your jaw dropped once you saw main camp for the first time. it was situated in front of a small lake, the trees gave way to a small clearing where a pavilion and other cabins were built. there were several picnic tables along with a bulletin board listing the week’s camp activities.

watanabe led you to a table where a group of boys were loudly bickering. they all shut up once they noticed the newest arrivals.

“what’s up boss?” one of them asked.

“this is our newest counselor l/n y/n, i trust you guys to make her comfortable,” watanabe said, shooting the blonde who had spoken earlier a stern look.

“we wouldn’t dream of doin’ anythin’ else!” he said with an innocent smile. you called bullshit.

sadly, watanabe had left immediately after introducing you claiming she had her own logistical duties to do before the first session of campers arrived next week.

you stood awkwardly as the boys eased back into their own conversation. great, five minutes into meeting new people and you were already feeling left out.

“would ya wanna sit down?” one of the boys asked, and you nodded. sitting down next to him in the spot he had made for you.

“i’m kita shinsuke, it’s a pleasure meetin’ ya.” kita said, extending a hand in your direction.

“l/n y/n.” you said, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake.

“everyone,” kita said to the group, “introducing yerself to l/n. ya heard what watanabe-san said,”

“i’m miya atsumu, but don’t go callin’ me miya, i wouldn’t want ya to get me confused for this idiot,” atsumu said, punching the grey haired boy sitting next to him.

the other boy rolled his eyes, “osamu,” he said simply, “don’t listen to what that idiot has to say, he doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ ‘bout.”

“i’m suna, and believe it or not both of them are complete idiots. pleasure to meet someone who doesn’t speak like an eighty year old farmer,” suna says, offering you a sly smirk.

“ignorin’ sunarin’s last statement, i’m aran. there’s a few other counselors in our group as well but they’re settin’ up.” the last member of the group said.

you nodded, hoping that you had committed their names to memory.

“you all seem to know each other well, have you guys been counselors here before?” you asked, propping your chin up on your hand.

“yes, but we also play on the same volleyball team,” kita said, “or at least played on the same team. aran and i just graduated,”

you hummed, “nice. i know a few volleyball players myself,”

“where are ya from?” aran asked, curious about your connections.

“tokyo,” you stated simply, noticing how atsumu promptly came to attention at the mention of the capital city.

“what school do ya go to?” he asked, giving you a weird look.

your nose scrunched, “i’m a second year- third year now i guess, at itachiyama. does that matter?”

the boys looked at each other, “we played against them in finals during interhigh nationals.” kita said.

oh, it clicked.

“i knew your names sounded familiar. especially yours atsumu, i don’t think my friend likes you that much,” you said bluntly.

atsumu’s face flushed red from embarrassment.

“yer friend wouldn’t happen to be omi-kun right?” he said, looking down at the table.

“yup!” you said teasingly, “i’m his neighbor actually, so i’ve heard a lot about you.”

suna laughed, “good luck with this one atsumu,” he said, initiating boisterous laughter at the expense of one miya atsumu.

time flew by and at the end of the day sleep came fast with the knowledge you had five new friends.

extra #2

“oh my gosh my god oh my god,” you mumbled to yourself as you ran through the woods to main camp.

it was the second day of the first camp session, and you had decided to take a small nap during your break in the hammock woods. the hammock woods was arguably your favorite place in camp. the kids never visited because they found it boring, so it was often the quietest place you could find.

the downside of the quiet was that you had to rely on technology to wake you up, and for some reason (later you would learn that you forgot to set an alarm) your phone didn’t go off fifteen minutes before your class.

so here you were, springing to the pavilion and praying that watanabe was in her trailer instead of making her rounds.

you arrived five minutes late, face red and completely out of breath. a few campers, thankfully none in your unit, turned and looked at you weirdly. you smiled at them. they turned back to their projects.

“what was that?” suna questioned, sending you a teasing smile.

you point at him menacingly, “don’t say a single thing sunarin,” you threaten.

he chuckles, “you have a lot to say for someone who was late to their second class ever,”

“you’re an ass, i hope you know that,” you whisper, making sure that none of the campers heard you.

“okay okay,” suna said, “stop flipping out i won’t tell watanabe,”

you sigh and pat suna on the head.

“i’ll buy you chuupets from the general store on my night off this week in thanks,” you say happily.

suna feigns anger, “you better.”

in the week before the campers arrived for session one, you had grown a lot closer to the other counselors. suna especially. the two of you co-taught nature studies so the majority of your time so far at camp planning lessons with him.

since both atsumu and osamu taught on the same day you did (mondays and wednesdays), you also got to spend a fair share of time with them on tuesdays and thursdays.

even though your conflicting schedules made it hard to see kita, aran, akagi, oomimi, or ginjima, you still made sure to talk to them during campfires and in passing during meals.

not having phone reception was annoying at first, but after the first three days you got used to it. you had written sakusa first, telling him about the miya twins and the inarizaki team who happened to also be counselors. he expressed his distaste in his response, but included well wishes (and disinfectant wipes).

you were aware that komori had written to you as well, but that letter was still sitting fully sealed under your mattress. you would deal with that later.

when it came time for the first batch of campers to arrive for session one, you immediately became a hit. both with the campers in your cabin and their parents. because of this, you were thankfully on watanabe’s good side.

your campers were entranced with the way you spoke (“like a true city girl!” one had said), and many of them regularly asked what it was like to live in a big city.

you had tried to keep their questions to a minimum while still answering them with as much detail you liked, which wasn’t too much.

even your students in your nature studies class loved you. they often called you their favorite teacher, which you loved to rub in suna’s face.

you were very grateful that you were given this chance to get away from the trainwreck of emotions you had left behind in tokyo. the change of pace was amazing, and so were the new friends you made.

“y/n i would very much appreciate if you came back to reality,” suna said while waving his hand in front of your face.

“huh?” you shook your head, “sorry, i was just lost in thought,”

suna looked at you, “i could kinda tell,” he scoffed.

“what do you have after class today?” you asked him, eyes doing a once over across the room to check if any campers needed help with their flower drawings.

“i’m on unit duty with aran, but i think i’ll just sleep in my cabin instead if none of my kids are there,” he said, and you nodded, fully understanding how tiring being a counselor could be.

“i’m on lifeguard duty at the lake,” you told him and he grimaced.

“ew,” was the only thing he said back, and you fully agreed.

lifeguarding was easily the worst rec time job. it was always in full sun and humidity, and the mosquitos were absolutely insane close to the water.

“i think both of the twins are on duty with me though,” you thought aloud, “that should be interesting,”

suna nodded eagerly, “you better tell me what they fight about today or i’ll never talk to you again,”

you playfully smack him on the shoulder, “you’re such a drama queen. why they fight?”

oh boy, suna thought, she has a lot to learn.

“well this morning atsumu asked osamu to make him coffee, osamu said no, atsumu got mad and complained to kita and the rest of his cabin, and then kita yelled at him to stop embarrassing himself in front of the kids,” he explained.

you looked at him baffled, “you say that as if their arguments are a daily occurrence,”

suna looked at you with a dead expression, “because they are,”

the rest of nature studies passed by without a hitch. the campers lined up in front of you and suna to pridefully show their artwork off, and after many compliments you were finally free.

after running back to your unit to change into your swimwear, you walked to the beach with low expectations. once you arrived, osamu greeted you with a wave and atsumu gave you a tight side hug.

“y/n why do ya always wear itachiyama shirts and never inarizaki shirts,” atsumu whined once he pulled back from the hug.

“are you serious,” you ask, and atsumu nods, “atsumu i wonder why,”

atsumu groans, “every time i see ya i have to be reminded of omi’s stupid face and i hate it,”

you rolled your eyes, “i’m going to my post and i’d advise you to do the same if you don’t want to get caught slacking off,”

you quickly made your way to your lifeguard bench, and noticed that it was (thankfully) osamu sitting to the right of you. you were way too tired to deal with atsumu right now.

“so y/n,” osamu started, “i’ve been meaning to ask ya why yer here, i mean, it’s not like i don’t enjoy yer company and yer a great counselor and all-“

“you can ask me why i’m here, osamu, i’m not offended,” you interrupt, and he sends you a sheepish smile.

“so why are ya here then?” he asked, not meeting your gaze.

you giggle at his shyness and he blushes, you think to yourself for a moment before replying.

“i got rejected, and i thought a change in scenery would be nice,” you said, not bothering to hide the reasoning to someone you’d most likely never see again after summer ends.

osamu looks at you completely shocked by your brutal honesty. you laugh at him once again, his reaction was priceless!

“was it sakusa?” osamu asks, hoping he isn’t being to direct.

“oh god no,” you exclaim (much to osamu’s shock), “that’d practically be taboo!”

osamu sends you a questioning look that seems to say ‘are you going to continue?’. you sigh and oblige.

“it was komori, if you must know,” you say, somehow managing to keep a smile on your face. “told me i was like a sister, which kinda hurt if i’m completely honest,”

this time osamu looks at you with pity, and you quickly back track.

“oi quit it!” you exclaim, managing to get atsumu’s attention as well, “it’s not like i’m gonna let a silly boy ruin my summer,”

atsumu whistles from his own station.

“shaddup ‘tsumu, we were havin’ a moment!” osamu yells at his twin.

atsumu throws his sandal in osamu’s direction, but it falls short and hits a camper square on the head.

both you and osamu jump down from your respective stations and rush to the camper as atsumu is frozen in shock.

“look at what ya did ya scrub!” osamu scowls at his brother. atsumu just hangs his head, too embarrassed to say anything over the cries of the camper.

you take your hand and gently wipe away the camper’s tears with your thumb.

“hey bud don’t cry, it’s just a small owie ok? you’re such a strong boy, this is nothing!” you tell him, squeezing his tiny hands.

he sniffles and stands up straight before giving you a hug. osamu offers him a high five before the kid runs back to his friends in the sand pit.

“you don’t think we should take him to the med hut?” you asked osamu.

osamu shook his head, “nah, he’ll be fine. plus we don’t want to overwhelm the staff there unless it’s really needed.”

you nod, thankful that your first camp crisis was handled so well.

“thanks for being the bestest lifeguard buddy osamu!” you tell him, giving him a high five that he reciprocated with ease.

“i heard that y/n! don’t forget i’m right here!” atsumu yells in your direction.

“did ya hear anything?” osamu asks, mockingly cupping his hand over his ear.

“nothing at all,” you responded, shooting atsumu a playful glare over your shoulder.

“let’s get back to work then,” osamu suggested. then it was back to the station for you both.

the first session of your time as a counselor ended with many tears, both from you and your twelve campers in your cabin. on the last night of session one, you sat your campers in a circle on the cabin floor and had them share their favorite camp memories. even you were moved to tears by how strong their friendships were after only twelve days.

the next morning was hard for you, seeing all of the children you had called your kids go back home. you would have never expected to feel so strongly for a group of twelve eight through ten year olds.

now that your cabin had been emptied out, you walked to main camp with a backpack full of clothes and toiletries for the weekend. the boys were going back to town and staying at home, and the twins were kind enough to open up their house to you.

“thanks again for your hospitality,” you told them while kita drove the three of you down the road, “i think i’d be lonely alone at camp over the weekend.”

“it’s nothin’” osamu said, “we can hang around town and show ya around,”

atsumu nodded along with excitement, and kita smiled. even he was excited to get to know you better.

as you neared civilization again, your phone began to go off. you ignored it for awhile but when it started ringing the special ringtone you saved for just for sakusa you knew you had to pick it up.

“hey yoomi, what’s up?” you greeted as his face filled up your small phone screen.

“are you coming back to tokyo for the weekend?” he asked, not bothering to beat around the bush.

you shook your head and sakusa’s eyebrows furrowed.

“where are you staying then?” he questioned.

then, in a cursed sequence, atsumu woke up from his nap and took your phone out of your hands.

“omi-kun! what a pleasure!” he smirked.

“miya can you please give me back to y/n, i haven’t talked to her for two weeks,” sakusa said, clearly displeased at seeing atsumu.

“so cold,” atsumu mumbled, but he listened and sakusa’s sigh could be heard loud and clear in kita’s small sedan.

“i don’t think i like the idea of you staying with miya, but it’s unavoidable. it’s too far for you to travel back home only to leave again in two days.” sakusa concluded.

you nodded, “i miss you though,” you said, trying to mimic the secret handshake the two of you came up with in fourth grade. it was hard without him actually doing his part. but you did elicit a laugh from the dark haired boy, which made atsumu whip around in his seat.

“motoya misses you too you know. he said you never wrote back to him,” sakusa said after a minute or so of silence.

osamu stiffened next to you and squeezed your knee, knowing that the topic of your rejection still makes you feel uncomfortable.

“is he with you right now?” you asked him.

sakusa nodded, “he’s in the living room, i figured you wanted to talk in private first so i went to my room,”

“i’ll say hi,” you said, and watched nervously as sakusa stood up and walked into the living room you practically grew up in.

“here he is,” sakusa said before passing the phone.

“hiya y/n!” komori greeted. you blushed. it was as if nothing had changed.

“hey toya” you whispered and watched as he curled up more into the couch. you were still unsure how it was possible for one to be so adorable.

“i’m sorry if what happened earlier upset you, but i still love you, you know that right? i was worried when you didn’t write back,” he said.

“sorry toya, but i think i needed some time first,” you answered with a sad smile.

osamu shot you a concerned look but you nudged his calf with your shoe to try to convey that you were ok.

komori nodded, “i’m sorry again, y/n,”

you shook your head, “you don’t need to apologize for not feeling the same way, let’s just get back to normal ‘kay?” you asked.

komori smiled brightly, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. (smiles do look really good on him, but it’s not like you could tell him that without making it weird anymore).

“that sounds great, i’ll pass you back to omi now,” he says.

“bye toya,” you said, thankful that that conversation was out of the way.

sakusa took his phone back and you heard him gently close the door to his bedroom.

“that wasn’t too painful now was it?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at you.

“no yoomi, you’re right as always,” you quip, knowing that’s what he wants to hear.

“i’ll let you go now, i know you can hear me miya don’t try anything funny,” sakusa says sternly, “have fun y/n, don’t fall off the face of the earth this time,” he said in a softer tone and proceeded to hang up before you could say goodbye.

you sighed, “sorry you all had to hear that,” you apologized.

the three boys shook their heads.

“yer all good y/n, it seemed like ya needed to have that conversation,” osamu said.

you smiled, “yeah, i really did.”

—

this is long! too long for one post actually! here’s part one though! part two will come later tonight.

general tag list: @cadenceh2o

part two.

[starrosefics-archive]

So i'm reading and rereading all of those 'trying to make sense of the monkie kid world in relation to JTTW' and i'm here like... if Tang isn't actually Tripitaka and in fact just Some Guy I feel like this is him in universe. Just a big 'Pepe Silvia' Conspiracy board the length of one of the walls of his apartment covered in notes from historical documents and legends and slowly going insane, which is why he's so unflappable on screen, keep the screaming inside

...I’m not sure what brought this on but it’s delightful. So...have a thing!

-_-

“Oi, Tang!” Pigsy slammed the door to the apartment behind him. “They didn’t have any of those sweet buns you-” A weird noise made him pause. “Tang?” He headed to the spare room the scholar had taken as his office when they had moved in together. He opened the door and then stared at the scene.

Tang’s office looked like it had been hit by a hurricane. The bookshelves had been shoved to allow the walls to be overtaken by a mess of papers and photos. He could see his own picture, as well as Sandy and MK and a bunch of others. Red string connected everything.

Tang stood at a wall. “Tang?” Pigsy asked, not hiding the concern. “Are you okay?” He stepped closer, finally noticing the marker in his hand and the fact that he was vibrating.

The scholar turned. And wow, those were pretty dark bags. “I’ve been up for three weeks. Nothing makes sense.”

“Okay...” Pigsy gently gripped his elbow and wrist. “Let’s go lay down.”

“But I need to make sense of everything...”

“Later.” Pigsy turned the light off, barely resisting a shiver at the sight of it.

[ks-caster]

Beth Liveblogs Black Widow

Bought that premium access on Disney+ so I can have the privilege of pausing for snacks and using subtitles as needed - so let’s go! 

Beth’s Spoiler-Free Review: Overall I thoroughly enjoyed the movie - the plot was compelling, the characters were likable, and the stunts were really excellent. I felt like hair and makeup dropped the ball on realism multiple times which I was sad about, because how she looks seems to be pretty important to Nat so I expected it to be done well in her movie. 

I did not like the way they framed the tail end (denouement - obviously because this movie is mid-series we know how it ends to an extent) - I felt like the connect-up to Infinity War was lackluster, especially compared to how enjoyable and dynamic the rest of the film was.

Spoilery live-reactions are under the cut. Click at own risk! Feel free to rebagel with your own impressions, thoughts, jokes and rebuttals!

The movie begins with a young Nat with blue dyed hair and visible roots, showing her natural red. Do you know how hard it is to get natural red out of hair, enough to make it blue and not green? And I’m supposed to believe that a middle-school age girl in 1995 Ohio had access to these chemicals? I’ll give her the white hair in IW/Endgame because she’s an adult with a lot of experience as a spy altering her appearance. But as a child? In the 90s? While her family is apparently in hiding? Sus.

The scene with Alexei laying on the on the wing while Nat learns to fly? AMAZING stunts. Amazing. AND someone in an action movie is finally smart enough to shoot the tires.

Nice skills on young Nat, getting the gun. Since we know from Endgame that Nat’s father is named Ivan, we know that Alexei isn’t really her dad. She also refers to presumably the red room as going “back.” Was she lent out to these agents to legitimize their family?

-0-

Nice knife moves, Yelena - I love the hand switch.

Ooooh so she was being mind controlled and the red stuff freed her? Interesting.

-0-

Nat is in Norway - visit Thor! He’d love to have you. (I’m mixing up my timeline, aren’t I?)

Supplies Dude whose name I didn’t catch refers to the Avengers breakup as a divorce - I kinda love it. It’s accurate!

BUDAPEST omg are we finally going to get the story?? Are we??

Box dye? I’m supposed to believe she got all that red out of her hair with flippin’ Loreal? Really? And that toner isn’t even the color she ultimately went - it’s too yellow. Sus.

-0-

Oop, looks like Nat got caught up in Yelena’s desertion.

Do not give Nat your metal frisbee, robocop - she’s been around Steve long enough that she knows how to use it.

I laughed out loud when she did the string him up thing with the cables - literal spider move, I love it!

Mystery box is empty - classic bait and switch.

-0-

BUDAPEST - WE ARE IN BUDAPEST - IT’S HAPPENING PEOPLE

Nat closing the door behind her is a small thing but I appreciate it - no sneaking up behind her.

When Yelena throws Nat in the kitchen and her feet hit the door and she spins before she hits the ground? That was a helluva stunt.

Oooooh honey. No body left to check is ALWAYS movie code for they lived.

Dreykov’s daughter? Another hint from Avengers 2012? C’mon, movie.

Riding the chimney down? Another incredible stunt. 

Dreykov can scan his soldiers’ bodies and terminate them if they’re too damaged to keep fighting? Big yikes. With Nat where she is character development wise, the stakes are now much higher because if she injures an opponent they may be killed remotely.

“Do you want me to chase him down and un-steal it?”

The car door under the bike was an excellent stunt - as was the car going into the subway. Though I’ve never seen a subway entrance big enough to admit a car.

Who hasn’t wanted to slide down the middle to avoid the crowded escalators lol.

Yelena making fun of Nat’s sexy poses I am LIVING omg.

Running water for wounds. RUNNING WATER. NOT ALCOHOL. The vodka goes on the INSIDE for the pain - the running water cleans the OUTSIDE. If there’s a convenience store then there’s a bathroom, with running water. Cleansing with something like alcohol is a LAST RESORT and you do not look like you’re at that point resource-wise. I thought these ladies were supposed to be highly trained in all of the things?

“Could be fun though.” “I saw where he put the keys” “Top drawer green cabinet.” I love their chaos.

Yelena’s vest and its pockets and the resulting conversation are positively majestic.

“You are sensitive.” “You’re a very annoying person.”

-0-

Do! Not! Move! Around! Like! That! While! Getting! A! Tattoo!!!! That poor artist was trying his best and Alexei just...

Ooooh was Red Guardian like Captain Russia? Interesting.

“Just don’t make a scene.” “You made a scene didn’t you.”

David Harbor running up that wall and then wiping out after the guard shocks him... I really loved that stunt, especially since they don’t show him being all super cut - he’s a big guy! He’s allowed to have fat over his muscles and still be a strong dude! I love it.

“Such a poser.” Girl, you need to meet Loki - he does a lot of hair flips too lol.

The sibling energy between the girls during the rescue!!!

“Whooooooa... this would be a cool way to die.” Yelena, I’m not necessarily disagreeing with you but get your head in the game girl.

Poor Alexei - he never gets to do the dramatic escape from *inside* of the aircraft.

Hang on, no ovaries? So all of these women are now in immediate, surgically-induced menopause? The uterus part makes sense if the intent was to prevent them from getting pregnant if they have sex during a mission, but, what, they gotta be on estrogen supplements for the rest of their lives? That’s just really poor planning. Like it was hilarious the way Yelena went into the biology of it to make Alexei uncomfortable, but that really doesn’t make sense to do to your superhero kids. It’s just bad science.

Love that Yelena keeps her vest even after she changes into her matching white flight suit. That vest better make it to the end of the movie.

-0-

“Honey, we’re home.” I 100% expected her to shoot him on sight tbh. it would have been funny.

Alexei squeezing into the uniform is such a post-pandemic feel. Also all of the fancy braids at that table; I see where Natasha got her propensity for them.

Animal cruelty warning, ugh. Poor piggy Alexei.

Oooh the photo album and Natasha remembered staging the pictures; they’re emotional for her but in a different way.

I wonder if robocop’s shield is actually Alexei’s.

The singing between Alexei and Yelena was a really beautiful moment because it was neither auto-tuned-good nor hilariously bad - it felt really real, especially the way Yelena’s so choked up she can barely make sounds come out.

Uh-oh, mama has one of those monitor your vitals and kill your ass suits. The suits I understand - the eyeliner though... when and why did she do her makeup?? That’s not really the thing that comes to mind for me when I’m getting ready to do something athletic, like say kidnapping my supersoldier fake family.

“This is a much less cool way to die.” Also WTF why would they do that. Wouldn’t it be easier to get the information out of her while her brain is still attached to, y’know, her mouth??

CLEVER CLEVER CLEVER they switched outfits and faces ooooooh like mother like daughter.

The door opening as Alexei is leaning against it dramatically bahahahaha

I love the plan. I’m thoroughly weirded out that Melina has a red wig just lying around that perfectly immitates Natasha though. 

“Yelena, it’s mama. You have a two-inch blade in your belt.”

Oh. My. God.

Antonia.

A pheromone lock preventing them from hurting them if they’re close enough to smell him - I like it. It’s clever and new.

Bahahaha poser! You posed I saw you! Still love the vest.

Natasha is really good at manipulating people’s emotions to get what she wants - I mean, scary good. So if she’s provoking Dreykov into beating her up, there’s a reason. 

“Using the only resource the world has too much of - girls.” Kill him. 

-0-

When I say I whooped out loud... SEVERING THE NERVE. Thank you for your cooperation. YAAAAAAS QUEEN.

-0-

“Slight change of plans - we are going into a controlled crash.” The way she said that was just so mom-like omg!

-0-

The grenade as a delivery system was super smart - but yikes what if she’d mistimed it and blew Natasha up? Also, after the beating she took and how hard she had to wack her own face into the desk to sever her olfactory nerve and the amout of blood we saw her leave behind from doing that, her face should be a LOT more messed up, come on makeup department.

“Get as far away from here as possible.” And then keep going because General I-Collect-Supersoldiers-Like-Stamps Ross is about to turn up at your location looking for trouble and he’d snap you ladies up like there’s a fire sale and you’re going out of stock.

This crash doesn’t look all that controlled, Melina. I’m starting to suspect that most of the widows won’t live long enough to make their own decisions...

All of the aerial stunts were amaaaaaazing - the way Nat slowed herself by sliding down the panels so Antonia could catch up with her and she could deploy her parachute... 

The vest survived the movie!!!

Fuuuuuck Ross is showing up and he sucks and I hate him and I’m super worried that he’s gonna take the vest from Nat if he takes her into custody. Please don’t let her lose the vest. 

Okay, there is now zero reason for Nat to stay behind. They have an aircraft. She had plenty of time to just board it and leave?

-0-

Okay okay okay Ross did not get her and did not take the vest. But am I supposed to believe she bleached her hair, toned it blonde, and then re-bleached and re-toned it to silver? Who does that? That would be terrible for her hair. Her scalp would be burned all to hell from the amount of chemicals needed to not only get all that red out but THEN get the blonde toner out. Y’know what color silver toner is? Blue/purple. Y’know what happens when you mix that with yellow? Green. And not a nice green either (I speak from experience). No. Her hair at the end of the movie? Cancelled. 

-0-

SHE GOT THE DOG!!!

Oh, ouch. Big ouch. I hurt like a lot now. This is so not an okay way to end the -

...

Countess I-Forgot-Your-Name-Already?

Oh no. Oh no. That’s worse. That’s a lot worse. We are now setting up the Hawkeye series and I while I’m horrified that this was how they ended the film, I gotta say that’s going to make for some wonderful angst in that series on both Clint and Yelena’s parts and I am here for it!

OVERALL IMPRESSION

I really, really enjoyed this movie, I thought the story was compelling, the stunts were really excellent, and I liked the character dynamics and the twist

I did not like the ending - it just sort of fell off quickly and didn’t feel satisfying after an otherwise really fun movie. I also take issue with the hair and makeup as shown among the characters, as seen in my several rants to that effect.

I would have liked to have seen a few more childhood/training flashbacks, and absolutely would have loved a cameo from Jeremy Renner (not just his voice) and to see him and Nat meeting and him giving her the whole dad speech that he does so well - bonus points if she could have then quoted him to Yelena or Antonia, showing the way that multiple people had a formative effect on her (an answer to the “The Avengers aren’t really your family either” comment).

[xxrainstormxx]

Save it Lover Boy. Spencer Reid x Reader (Save it for the Doctor Part 2)

(A/N: In this story it’s been a few months. I’m not great at focusing on the Romance part but there is a little more than there was last time. I really hope you guys enjoy!) Word count: 2,405 Part 1 (edit: my pleas for requests for stories are not reaching people so I will beg here. If you want a oneshot I’ll write it. Prompt or no prompt.)

After the incident with my sister, my life was flipped around for the better. I began to date Spencer, the team being unaware. I finished college and thanks to a few strings JJ and Aaron had pulled I was now the BAU's personal assistant. Granted, it was a unpaid internship so it was not very glamorous but it got me the experience I need, especially if I want to be apart of this specific team. I was the one who got coffee, filled out unrelated paper work, helped JJ set up stations and boards. I still hadn't quite gotten used to that sinking feeling when the phone rings. Or when JJ approaches your desk, or the photos. You never get used to not sleeping in your own bed, the hotels, no moments of privacy, the monsters, families loosing each other. Or the pictures, it's disgusting. I especially never got used to how numb all my friends were numb to it all at the end of the day. Especially Spence, he'd been through utter hell and yet he was still sweet and managed to smile. It worried me sometimes, how relaxed they could be at the end of the day. 

So, JJ and I were setting up everything on the board. I frowned at the woman on the board. Only one, we caught it just in time for it to become a murder. It made me sick to think there was a possibility we could save the 25 year old, but instead we were called in after it became a bigger problem which made me feel sick. How easily someone gets away with something until they commit the actual murder. This woman was a very lively person. She clearly didn't deserve what she had gotten. "Samantha Burkly" JJ said softly "Poor woman." She said and left to talk to the others leaving me sitting in the conference room just tapping away at the laptop provided. I was also little Miss Penelope Garcia's assistant so I was stuck digitizing files she didn't want to, and it fucking sucked dirty dick. Yeah, let that sink in. Anyway I felt a few pairs of eyes on me only to look up and see the team staring at me through the cursed window of the room. "What?" I rose a brow causing a few to look away Spencer's eyes lingering, he was waiting for something. I don't think either of us knew what so I blew him a kiss and a subtle wink making him look away turning pink. That same shade of pink when he found me innocent and began what I would come to know as a very normal rant. His epiphanies, or what I called "braingasms" (which he absolutely despised), would strike a chord 99% of the time, and the other 1% could be brushed off as "Reid being Reid" which kinda upset me. He was a damn genius and yet no one seemed to want to listen. Sure I hadn't been around as long a the others but I would sit and listen to Spence talk for hours when on dates, I would nod, as questions and get very thoughtful and honest answers. Sure they weren't always what someone would want to hear, but did anyone ever tell you it would be good news. Reid and I could also have a very thoughtful debate. Now was that normal for couples, no, probably not. But at least he had facts to back up his opinion, making it a real debate and not just some senseless argument that fell into pointless attacks on the other person leading to a fight and rough makeup sex. Which I wouldn't mind but it'd only been a few months, and didn't wanna make an uncomfortable situation we could easily talk through anyway. What was I doing? Right, paperwork. 

As I ended my very long side rant and staring into space while also staring directly at Spencer's ass, I turned to my computer. "You shouldn't stare at people baby cakes." I heard causing me to jump out of my damn seat. "I was staring into space. Jesus Derek you scared the shit out of me!" I cursed glancing to the man with his nose in a file I was digitizing, "Sorry hun. But we need a fresh pair of eyes" he said gesturing to a new less dusty file on the table in front of my computer. I recognized the face on the front as the same woman on the board. Her name written on the front clear as day. I knew what was inside and I was proud to have not seen it but now it disturbed me that my eyes were being referred to as "Fresh" in that way. It made me feel dirty and violated in a whole new way. "Why? You guys know this case inside and out. I'm just the intern." I said and snatched the older file out of his hand. I knew this poor case inside and out by now. Decapitation and sexual assault of the esophagus. Real nasty shit ya know? The woman was 22 and then a man was found two weeks later with the same thing. But the case went cold 7 years ago. It was sad. The woman's mother had killed herself and the man's father disowned his son assuming he was gay because a man did that to the literally gaping hole in his neck. It was one of the bigger case files full of dead ends. I had become intimately aware of all the details of the case, even the signature, something overlooked by the police because they thought decapitation and violation of the hole in the neck was it, and while rare that wasn't the case. It was a soft lipstick mark left on the victims hands next to the stamp of the club they went too. It was pink so very easily missed. "Because baby, you're gonna need to get used to this if you ever wanna be promoted. You can't react like you did back in January and vomit on the floor." Derek chided me softly "Fine, But you have to stop calling me baby, we aren't together. Also stop touching the files they're in alphabetical order and you're fuckin it up" I hissed smacking his hand away from another file at the bottom of the stack. "pissin me off Agent Moron" I wailed as he laughed at the new insult. I could literally feel Spencer's jelousy from the next room. It was honestly kind of cute but I could not be thinking of my boy's sweet face at the moment, I was about to see what really happened to poor Samantha Burkly. I took the new file off the table and opened it to the pictures and I was hit with a familiarity. "Derek this isn't funny. I was just looking at this file" I declared nonchalantly as I lobbed it back onto the table going back to the laptop "What the hell are you talking about?" He asked "that's a brand new file" He said "A red headed woman decapitated with semen in her esophagus and a pink lipstick mark on her hand next to it? That Hellen Barsly not the Burkly girl" I stated "You leave out Jason Green to make it more realistic?" I muttered never once looking up "Pin lipstick mark?" he questioned grabbing the file "I'll be damned there it is. You barely looked at it. That woman is Samatha Burkly" he blinked "Har har Derek" I hissed snatching the file and opened the file as Spencer walked in to listen. I barely acknowledged him because I was pissed at this point.

"I know the Banshee Hunter of West Point case better than my own fucking computer history" I said and held it up to the picture before being shocked as I saw that the decapitated woman was in fact Samantha. Right next to her living photo. "The what?" Reid asked, clearly never having heard of it. "Oh my god. OH MY GOD" I yelled and ran back to my seat pulling out all the files related to The BHWP case, I knew full well that this case was bigger than it seems. "Penelope has me on digital file duty and these cases caught my attention for some reason. The case went cold 7 years ago." I mumbled pulling up all the files that were back at the office in my desk as I'd finished them. I had a whole folder for all the connected cases, even ones where the M.O and victimolgy had changed. "The first murder dated back to 1970. A woman by the name of Jenny Boil had disappeared, she was 24 years old. Found decapitated in the middle of the highway her esophagus had been sexually assaulted. She had red hair with a soft pink kiss mark on her hand and her mouth had been stretched open like a banshee. And because her hair was red along with numerous victims leading up to the sudden coldness of the case. There are cases where the victimology changed completely or the M.O so the police never connected them or assumed they were copy cats" I rambled as I quickly set up a time line that ended with Samantha "and now hes back with the latest victim" I hit enter and the time line stretched across the screen victims all over the screen. "the pink lip stick marks. Originally they were thought to be remorse but I think this guy has some kind of fucked up chivalrous attempt" I squawked and pushed my chair to the whiteboard standing on it feeling eyes on me. I didn't know or care how many. I heard frantic flipping and click me. "This guy has over 100 known victims only 12 of them not red heads. Only 11% of his victims don't fit the victims and only 3 don't fit the M.O of the others making that 2%!" I yelled as if I was Spencer. I could feel my face turning red with adrenaline. "Now all of these cases 100 percent all have a kiss mark on the hand, same brand and color of lipstick, A frosted pink lipstick, 67 Peach Pink from the brand Nestacia" I wrote that down "And all these cases I noted have three different overlapping suspects" I said pushing Spencer out of the way of my computer and printed up their pictured and grabbed them hanging them up "Now!" I continued slapping the board "This man right here is no Biological male! His name is Tyler Grant a 59 Year old trans man! He couldn't have done it but that doesn't mean he couldn't have helped" I said noticing the whole team in the room. No one tried to interrupt because I assumed I looked batshit insane. 

I was right cause I caught my refection and my hair was everywhere now, I was sweating, and my pupils were shaking. I didn't care I was on a roll. "There is no plausible way the semen belongs to him!" I said "These also can't be a copy cat killer-" I began before being unceremoniously interrupted again "But how do you-" he began before i loudly shushed Spencer. "Save it lover boy! I'm getting to that! Lemme talk your turn in over" I said making him smile just a little "As i was saying, it can't be a copy cat killer because there was also another unnoticed factor! The strange shape of the lips! No one draws on their lips this way but the pallet is larger on one side than the other. The killer has a cleft pallet, which cannot be a coincidence!" I said "and as you can see! This man right here! Leston Nikolia has a cleft pallet. But because they never had proof he'd done it due to the overlooked lipstick marks he walked free!" I yelled circling him "And we don't talk about Henry for the simple fact that he is Impotent and was in jail during the last 7 murders before Samantha and he's dead now!" I finished and took a large inhale and sat down "the lip stick is enough reasonable suspicion to bring him in for questioning. He's a coward. He cannot face people head on and most likely has high anxiety and is easily paranoid it wouldn't be hard to get a correct confession." I panted "Reid! Is this what it feels like when you solve a fucking problem? I feel like my brain just had 7 orgasms" I wished sitting back "It was always circumstantial but now that there a new victim sitting in front of me I'm sure it was him" I wished taking more deep breaths "I'm going to call Garcia and see if I can get a fact check on everything." Aaron began making my heart sink, please please don't discredit everything I just gave you. "JJ can you get us a location? Reid get started on a warrant the minute JJ gets it, Derek get a game plan together, Prentiss and I will do more investing on this Nikolia guy, and (Y/N)." he finished turning to me. "Keep going over every file you have and see if you can connect anymore of these murders. Good work" He said and the team began to work. "Holy shit" I gasped and Spencer smiled at me "You might have just solved this case." He said kissing my forehead "and I'm so damn proud" he whispered. I was still riding my knowledge high, the adrenaline still pumping so not caring that we were at work, I kissed Spencer straight on the lips. He froze because we were still in a work setting but slowly kissed back. His lips were soft, we hadn't had a proper first kiss, just forehead kisses, cheek pecks, and occasional pecks on the lips if Spencer was feeling sausey. I just giggled pulling back "That was... so much at once. How does your brain do that all the time?" I asked "Mine's been doing it a lot longer. See you after work okay?" he whispered and went to do his job "Right. Work" I whispered and sighed turning to my laptop cracking my knuckles doing real work for the first time in my internship. Who knows, maybe me and Penelope could do this kind of thing together!

[let-me-love-you-loki]

In A Day or Two-Ch. 20

Chapter 20

           Kenny stroked his fingers through my hair, along the line of my throat, the curve of my collarbone. I hummed in contentment as drowsiness skipped around the outskirts of my mind. We were on the balcony of Kenny’s flat, stretched out on a two-person hammock beneath the bright summer sun. It was the last day we had together before he left for a two-week tour of the UK. We were determined to make the most of every moment we had before he had to leave.

           “I never thought I’d be here,” Kenny said softly, his lips against my hair. He curled his body around mine, tangling our limbs together.

           I nuzzled against the warm muscle of his chest. “Hmm? In a hammock in the sun in a Japanese high rise?”

           He chuckled and left sweet gentle kisses along my forehead. “In a hammock in the sun in a Japanese high rise with someone like you, Shaytan.”

           My heart went a beat too fast at the sound of the pet name he said with such frequency. He’d given it to me like he’d given me his heart and the honesty of his past. I sank into it, into the feeling of peace and safety it brought.

           “I never thought I’d be here, either. With anyone, let alone a guy like you,” I replied. My fingertip drew lazy patterns along his stomach and ribs. “I was never brave enough to dream of a guy like you, Kenny Omega.”

           I felt his breath hitch in his chest. His heart beat a steady rhythm beneath my ear as we swayed. Kenny took my hand and threaded our fingers together. Warmth slipped through my limbs at the feel of the callouses on his fingers sweeping against my skin.

           He pressed his lips to my forehead, his nose buried in my hair, breathing in deeply. “I dreamed of you, Shaye Walker. I might not have seen your face, but I knew it was you. The moment I saw you in the Shinkowa…” He cradled my head in his palm as he nuzzled against me. “My heart stopped in my chest and there was nothing else in the world but you. I knew you were the one I’ve been dreaming about.”

           Tears prickled my eyes at the certainty in his voice. I blinked them away. This was a moment everyone dreamed of, wasn’t it? To hear that you were someone’s dream. That they’d waited for you. I’d never given myself permission to want a moment like this. I’d never believed that it could ever be mine.

           “Kentan,” I murmured against his skin. He held me tighter at the word, and I heard his heart beating out of time.

           “That day in the train station, in the cab… I didn’t trust myself,” he whispered, pulling our entwined hands up to his mouth. His lips swept slowly along my knuckles. “I didn’t think it could be real. But the next day… when I saw you again… it had to be real… fate or destiny or unmei no akai ito.”

           I propped my chin on his chest and looked up at him, my brow furrowing in confusion. He smiled and tucked an arm behind his head. “Unmei no akai ito is literally translated as the red string of destiny. It’s an ancient story that says that there is a match for everyone in the world, and that they are connected by a red thread that will draw them together until it is time for them to meet. Japanese culture says that one end of the thread is tied around the man’s thumb and the other is around his destined bride’s little finger.” He gave a small huff and rolled his eyes. “Traditional notions of love and marriage abound, and I’ve often wondered how the gods work that one out for those of a same-gender persuasion.”

           For a moment, I thought of Kota Ibushi. I wondered if Kenny had once thought that it was him on the other end of his red thread. I almost wanted to ask, but I didn’t. This moment was too perfect and too happy to bring in old memories. I looked up at him and smiled as I disentangled our hands, moving to wrap my little finger around his thumb. His blue-green eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back, kissing the spot where our fingers touched.

           “Hmm,” I replied, moving so that we were eye to eye in the hammock. “Is that why you took me hiking on Tsukubasan? I wouldn’t have thought you were a superstitious guy.”

           Kenny bumped the end of his nose into mine. “I wasn’t taking any chances. If we didn’t…” He cleared his throat, hands skimming up the length of my spine to hold me against him. “If I was counting the days with you, I wanted every blessing we could possibly get.”

           I took a deep breath, painting the scent of him on my heart until I would know it even in my sleep. He pressed his forehead to mine and slipped his fingers into my hair. His thumb stroked the tender skin behind my ear.

           “But I don’t want to count our days, Shaye. Not toward zero.”

***

           I stood beside Kenny in the lobby of the train station, waiting for the moment when he had to leave. It was early morning… so early that the sun wasn’t even up yet. We were leaning against the wall in an out of the way corner. A few people had already recognized him and asked for autographs and photos, and, even though he was exhausted, he didn’t turn a single person down. People handed me their cameras to take pictures. Kenny dug a Sharpie out of his bag and signed anything and everything that people put in front of him. He smiled and listened to them, the conversations short as he moved from person to person.

           When the last person had walked away, Kenny laced our fingers together and drew me away from the heavy traffic areas. He leaned his back against the wall and pulled me into a hug, propping his chin on the top of my head. He was quiet as he held me, hands splayed over my back. “I love you, Shaytan,” he murmured into the silence.

           “I love you, too, Kentan,” I replied. It amazed me at how his heart skipped a beat whenever I said it. How it seemed like his entire body relaxed, muscles releasing, chest expanding as if he was only just now able to take a full breath.

           A voice came over the intercom and his arms tightened around me. It must have been his train. He stroked his fingers through my hair and tipped my face up with his thumbs. His lips came down against mine in a tender kiss that made my heart race against my ribs.

           “I’ll text you whenever I can. And I’ll call when I land in London,” he said, a faint sort of panic starting in his eyes. He knew he needed to go, but it was like he couldn’t make himself do it. “Stay in my place. Move in, make yourself at home. I love you, Shaye.”

           “Love you too, Kenny,” I said, reaching out and wrapping my little finger around his thumb. He grinned and pressed one last kiss to my forehead before walking off to his platform, backpack hanging off one shoulder as he pulled his rolling suitcase behind.

***

           I strolled through the Shinkowa, stopping to browse at some of the shops just to have something to pass the time. I’d picked up the groceries I needed on my way back to Kenny’s apartment after leaving the train station. Then I’d called my mother back in New York to check in. My brother was still two steps from boarding school, and my father was stuck going between London and Paris cleaning up a mess from one of his junior associates. I hoped he didn’t run into Kenny while he was there—small chance that it was.

           “Kon'nichiwa, Satō-san,” I said as I slipped into a sweets shop near the far end of the gallery, bowing my head at the owner.

           “Kon'nichiwa, U~ōkā-san,” the owner said with a smile. “Kenny wa dokodesu ka?”

           It took a moment for me to translate in my head. I was getting better, but still not good enough to hold a long conversation. My brain was just as slow trying to figure out how to answer. Luckily, Mrs. Satō was good friends with Kenny and he’d told her all about me.

           “Nakunatta,” I replied slowly, knowing I was saying it incorrectly. I held up my thumb and index finger. “Nishūkan.”

           She gave me a sad smile. “Gone two weeks?” she replied, her English far better than my Japanese. She came around the counter and went to a case near the back of the shop. When she returned, she had a pint of ice cream and a sleeve of Kenny’s favorite cookies. She plopped them into my hands. “Too long.”

           I paid for the snacks and wished her goodnight. The gallery was emptying out as people began their walks home. I meandered through the residential streets, my purchases tucked into one of Kenny’s shoulder bags. My phone rang, and I looked down to see Kenny’s face on the screen.

           “Hello,” I said, grinning as I pushed open the door of his building.

           “Tsuini watashinoie,” Kenny replied, his voice warm and sweet. I wouldn’t admit how much I missed it even after just twelve hours. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

           I leaned against the wall while I waited for the elevator. “Kentan, you sound like you miss me.”

           He growled a little, and I could just picture the playful light in his eyes. “I’ll always miss you, Shaytan. One day…” He took a deep breath and stopped. “One day you can come with me. All over the world.”

Tag List

@mox-made-me-do-it​ @imagineall-the-fandoms​ @waywardstrong​ @lilred91​

@lakamaa12​

[nazariolahela]

Something Domestic: Chapter 16

A/N: Hey y'all! This story is told in first-person narrative, from Riley’s (MC) POV. There will likely be smidges of canon in this, but not too much. Thanks for reading, and please leave feedback, and/or if you would like to be tagged.

I’m sorry this is so late. January has been crazy busy for me at work. Just wanted to let y’all know that next week is the final chapter in Riley and Liam’s story. I promise I will have that one out on time. 😉 

Catch up here

Series Tags: @burnsoslow @aworldoffandoms @dcbbw @ladyangel70 @texaskitten30 @sunandlemons @jlynn12273 @indiacater @jared2612 @rainbowsinthestorm @drakesensworld @badchoicesposts @msjr0119 @katurrade @blackcoffee85 @cynicalworlds-blog @hopefulmoonobject @cmestrella @sugarandspice-milkandhoney @superharrietsuper @custaroonie @lady-calypso @ritachacha @olympianpantsuit @desiree-0816 @the-soot-sprite @kate-mckenzie @narrytheworld @octobereighth @lynne1993 @queen-anastasia-universe @loveellamae @sarzkh31​ @iaminlovewithtrr

Synopsis: When Riley Brooks takes a new job as a nanny for the affluent Rhys family in New York’s Upper East Side, she assumes she’s just going to care for the children of the couple who hired her. But instead of just school pick-ups and afternoon snacks, she also finds herself spending time with Liam, the handsome divorced dad. Can Riley control her feelings for Liam while still performing the job she was hired for?

All characters are the property of Pixelberry Studios. Thanks for allowing me to borrow them.

Chapter Summary: Riley makes a tough decision, and Liam finally confronts Madeleine.

“Miss Riley? Can we go see Dora and Diego again?” Andrew asks, tugging on my sleeve. We’re walking down Broadway on our way to lunch. After that, we’ll make our way to the Children’s Museum of Manhattan. Today is an in-service day, so he has the day off from school. It’s kind of nice to be able to go out in public again with the kids I watch. I haven’t encountered a single paparazzo in over a month. I smile as I adjust his stocking cap and wipe the snot running from his red nose. I then pull the collar of my winter coat up and we continue our walk.

“We will. But we need to eat first. Okay, bud?”

“Can I have chicken nuggets? Dad says I can’t have them, but Grandma always sneaks me some when she comes over.”

I giggle. Andrew is such a fun kid. He’s the sweetest nine-year-old I have ever met. And always so polite. I’ve been his nanny for almost a month now. Every morning, he greets me at the door of their townhouse with a picture he drew the night before. And every evening before I leave, he invites me to stay for dinner and offers to share his food with me. His dads hired me after Madeleine kicked me to the curb. Thankfully the agency didn’t terminate my employment. During my first interview with Adam and Derek, I asked them if my tabloid issue would be a problem. They looked at each other and smirked. Then Adam reminded me that neither of them were interested in me that way, so I have nothing to worry about. 

Truthfully, they’re the nicest couple I’ve worked for. They go out of their way to make sure I have everything I need to take care of their son. They’ve even invited me to move in with them to be a live-in nanny. Both Adam and Derek travel a lot for work, so I spend a good amount of time with Andrew. Derek’s mom stays with him in the evenings and on weekends when they’re both gone, but she’s getting older and they fear she won’t be around too much longer. They offered me free room and board, and a personal vehicle to use at my leisure, but I can’t seem to commit to giving up my apartment. 

We arrive at Fred’s — one of my favorite spots in Manhattan — and grab a table. It’s my preferred restaurant in New York City that allows dogs. Even though I haven’t had a dog since high school, I love coming here because it reminds me of my parents’ old Lab, Coco. The waiter arrives at our table and I order the Turkey Club for me and the Sesame Chicken Fingers for Andrew. As we eat, Andrew talks about their upcoming trip to Cabo and asks me if I’m going to come with them.

“I don’t know, bud. I’d have to check with your dads.”

“They said that if you moved in with us, you could,” he replies and shoves a chicken strip in his mouth. I guess that’s one of the perks of being a live-in nanny. You’re basically a member of the family.

After lunch, we head over to CMOM. Andrew helps Diego rescue animals and plays the drums at Dora’s house. I laugh as I snap photos of him on my iPhone, sending them in a group text to Derek and Adam. After a few hours of fun, I gather Andrew up and we make our trek back to his townhouse. On the way home, we walk past an ice cream shop. He grabs my hand and begs me to buy him a treat. My mind wanders to when I used to take Philip here and my eyes begin to water. Nope. Not gonna cry.

“Sure. Let’s go, bud,” I reply as we enter the shop.

We arrive home shortly after and I send Andrew upstairs to wash up for dinner. A few minutes later, the door opens and Derek’s mom, Patricia walks in. 

“Hello, dear. How was your day? I assume my grandson was on his best behavior?”

I laugh. “He always is.” She smiles and pats my shoulder before making her way into the kitchen to start preparing dinner. I follow her into the kitchen and pull ingredients out of the fridge for her. 

“So, how are things with the boy toy?” she asks as she cuts up some vegetables. 

“I think I’m going to have to break up with him.”

She stops cutting and stares at me. “What’s going on?”

I chew on my bottom lip. “I’m in love with someone else.”

She points the knife in her hand to a stool, motioning for me to sit. “Spill it.” I tell her everything about Liam and me, the kids, the divorce, and the tabloid scandal. I then tell her about Josh and how nice and how good looking he is, and how bad I feel for wanting to dump him. Her brows form a deep V as she listens to my sob story. Then, she reaches over and places her hand on mine.

“Let me tell you something, dear. Before I married my Elliot, there was someone else. Sure, he was a whole bowl of eye candy and a demon in the sack, but he wasn’t what I needed. We didn’t have that connection.”

I frown. “But, he’s been so good to me these past few weeks. I feel like an asshole.”

“You will for a while, sure. But it’s not fair to give him false hope with another man waiting in the wings. The best thing you can do is be honest with him.”

“But what if he hates me?”

She chuckles. “If he truly cares about you, he’ll want you to be happy.”

I nod, taking in her words, then check my watch. “Shit. I gotta go meet Josh. I’ll see you in the morning, Patricia! Thanks for everything!” She waves as I grab my bag from the living room and rush out the door.

***

Half an hour later, I sit at Starbeans, fiddling with the cardboard sleeve of my coffee cup. I replay the events of last week. After a month of not talking to Hana or Liam, I was able to reconnect with both of them. My heart feels full again. Except now I have to work up the courage to break things off with Josh. To be honest, it’s always been about Liam. Even after no contact for a month, I held out hope he would find out who leaked the story and come crawling back to me.

Speaking of. I can’t believe that bitch Madeleine set me up. I try to figure out why she would do that to me. I’ve never been anything but an exceptional nanny to her kids. Why would she try to ruin my life? Liam said it was because she never wanted the divorce, but wanted to continue fucking other men. Philip and Charlotte are the perfect children and from what I learned from his friends, Liam was a wonderful husband. Some people are never happy, I guess.

I spot Josh strolling into the coffee shop. He’s wearing his signature charcoal gray suit, his phone pressed to his ear, and his black leather messenger bag draped over his shoulder. His brown eyes sparkle as he locates me and makes his way over to my table. In another life, I think I could be happy with Josh. But ever since I met Liam, I haven’t been able to look at another man like that. He ends his call and leans over, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I motion for him to take a seat.

“Let me grab something to drink,” he says, moving toward the counter.

I point to the coffee cup sitting across the table. He smiles and takes a seat, bringing the cup to his lips, and takes a sip. “So, how was work today? Did you and Andrew do anything fun?”

“We did. I took him to Fred’s, then we visited CMOM.”

He smiles. “That’s awesome. Glad you guys had fun. And how are things with Hana? Have you guys been talking?”

Josh is aware of mine and Hana’s falling out. I practically talked his ear off about it on our first date. Instead of running for the hills at the first sign of my crazy, he sat there and listened, offering advice on how to fix our relationship. Another reason why I feel bad about what I’m about to do. It’s only been a few weeks, but he’s a great guy and I really like him. The only problem is my heart doesn’t belong to him. Patricia’s words ring in my mind. It wouldn’t be fair to string him along while pining for another man.

“Things are good. We’re having dinner later this week.”

“I’m glad you two could make up. I know how hard it’s been not having her in your life. What about Liam?”

I pause, “What about him?”

“Your friend Drake said you guys were going through a rough patch as well. He didn’t give up too many details, but he said you guys were close.”

I chewed my bottom lip. “Oh, I...I actually used to work for Liam. I was his kids’ nanny. Until I was let go.”

He cocks an eyebrow and waits for me to continue. “His ex-wife was jealous of our relationship, so she leaked their divorce to the tabloids and blamed me for it.” I then proceed to tell him everything about the last few months. 

Josh nearly spits his coffee. “Wait...you are the homewrecking nanny?” He sputters, wiping his chin. “How did I not put two and two together? You said your old boss fired you because she thought you were sleeping with her husband. And when I saw him at the bar last week, I remembered reading about it in the tabloids.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know why I didn’t recognize you from the story.”

Well, this is awkward. “Yeah...that’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Look, Josh. You’re an amazing guy, but Liam and I…”

His face falls. “Wait, are you breaking up with me?”

My stomach turns. I’ve only broken up with one boyfriend. He was the star quarterback of my high school football team, and it was after I caught him feeling up the head cheerleader under the bleachers after homecoming. I lean across the table and take his hands in mine. “I’m so sorry Josh. I never meant to hurt you. The truth is, I’m in love with Liam. I have been. And it’s not fair to you to pretend that I’m not.”

He sighs and drops his head. “You know. I always thought this day would come. You’re obviously way out of my league, but I was hoping my luck would change. Is there anything I could have done differently?”

I shake my head and squeeze his hands. “You are an amazing guy and you’re going to make some woman very happy someday. I just know it.”

He nods and stands from his seat. Leaning in, he presses a chaste kiss to my lips. “See you around, Riley,” he says, then turns and walks out. When he’s gone, I exhale and rub the ache in my chest. Just then, my phone chimes. I look down to see a message from Liam. Weird timing. I look around the room to see if he’s here, then open the text.

Here we go. I gather up my purse and hail a cab to my apartment. I drop off my tote bag and freshen up. Twenty minutes later, I arrive in the lobby of Liam’s penthouse and the memories of my firing come flooding back. A woman I don’t recognize sits at the receptionist's desk. She can’t be older than 18. She looks up from her phone and plasters a huge smile on her face. “Good evening, ma’am. How can I help you?”

“Riley Brooks, here to see Liam Rhys.”

She nods and reaches into the desk drawer, pulling out a familiar black envelope. “Mr. Rhys requested that I give this to you. You can just head on up.”

I swallow and take the envelope. I swear this is déjà vu. I take a deep breath and make my way to the elevator, pressing the keycard to the panel. As the car makes its ascension to the penthouse floor, I can’t stop the tears from falling. Being back here brings back so many memories. When the elevator car reaches the top floor, I quickly wipe my cheeks and step into the foyer. Nothing has changed here. Except for the energy. I move further into the townhouse, taking it all in. I hear shuffling and turn to see Liam coming down the stairs. His blue eyes light up as he sees me, and he rushes down the stairs two at a time. Scooping me up in his arms, he plants a slow, sensual kiss to my lips.

“God, how I’ve missed you,” he says, gripping my hips and pulling me against him. His tongue darts out, slipping between my parted lips. Our kiss grows fervent and his hands slip under the hem of my sweater, his fingertips slowly dragging up my sides. I haven’t felt him in so long, my body almost forgot how good it feels when he touches me. We start pawing at each other’s clothes, not noticing Leo stroll into the penthouse.

“Jesus, you two. Get a room.” We break apart as Leo approaches. He inhales deeply. “Smells like sex in here. You two waste no time, huh?”

I shoot him a death glare and Liam just rolls his eyes. “Well, we’re here, let’s get this show on the road,” he says to his brother.

Leo smirks and reaches into his pocket, retrieving his phone. He begins tapping on the screen. “All in good time, little brother. You have to be patient.”

Liam sighs and grabs my hand, guiding me to the sofa. We both take a seat and watch as Leo finishes his text and slips his phone back in his pocket. He sits on the adjacent sofa, wearing a shit-eating grin. I look at Liam in confusion.

“What’s going on?” I ask. Leo holds up his finger. Moments later, the elevator chimes and the doors slide open. Madeleine strolls in, her nose buried in her phone.

“Let’s make this quick, Leo. I have to pick up the kids befo-” she stops when she looks up and sees Liam and I sitting on the couch. Her eyes narrow when she looks at me. “What is she doing here?”

Liam snorts. “I should be asking you the same thing. This is my house.”

“Your brother brought me here. Said we needed to talk.”

Leo takes this moment to stand up and motion for Madeleine to sit. “Have a seat. You, me, my brother, and his nanny need to have a chat.”

“I don’t have time for this,” she snaps and turns to walk away.

“Madeleine. Sit.” Leo says, his tone flat. She stops in her tracks. After a few moments, she sighs and moves to sit on the chair.

Leo grins. “Well, since we’re all here. Let’s get down to brass tacks. I’ve asked you all here because we have a bit of a conundrum. My charming brother here has been trying to get to the bottom of this tabloid scandal for the last month.”

“Why are we still talking about this shit? The divorce is final,” Madeleine huffs, rolling her eyes.

My blood boils. “Because ‘this shit’ damn near ruined my career. And I want answers!” I shout. Liam places his hand on my back rubbing it in slow, soothing circles. I take a deep breath. “I want to know who did this to me and why.”

She smirks. “What do you want me to do about it? I don’t care about your career. I care about my kids. Whoever leaked it put them in danger.”

Liam sits up, void of emotion. “You mean you?”

His accusation catches her off guard. “Wh-what? What are you talking about?”

He turns to his brother, both of them sharing an amused look. Madeleine’s eyes dart from Leo to Liam, then to me. “What are you guys getting at? You think I did this?”

“We know you did, sweetheart. And we have proof,” Liam says.

“Bullshit.”

Liam looks at Leo and nods his head. Leo pulls out his phone and taps a few buttons before placing it face-up on the coffee table The audio begins playing.

“So, what’s going on with you and my brother?”

“We’re divorced. What do you mean?”

“Are you getting back together?”

*laughter* “No. Not even a little. To be honest, I don’t know why I married him in the first place.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. What about your new guy?”

“Rashad? Eh...he’s nice. But ohmygods, he’s so boring.”

“Boring? How so?”

“All he ever talks about is his stupid firm. If I have to hear one more time about international contacts and the Portera Group, I’m going to pull my hair out strand by strand.”

*laughter* “Well, what’s going on with the nanny situation? I trust Belinda is working out well.”

“Better than I could have imagined. At least I don’t have to worry about the kids when they’re in her care.”

“C’mon, Maddy. What was wrong with Riley?”

*laughter* “Where do I even start? I should have never hired someone right out of college. All these young girls see is a paycheck. They don’t give a shit about the kids.”

“That’s odd. I never got that from Riley. She seemed to really like the kids.”

“That’s what she wanted you to see. How many times did she put my kids in jeopardy with the fucking paparazzi? And those stupid ass tabloids. My kids don’t need to see lies about their parents in some trash rag. Charlotte told me she looked through one of them and saw a picture of herself. Then she started asking me questions. They’re only six and four, but they’re not stupid. That’s why I had to get rid of her.”

“Get rid of her?”

“Yes. I had Mara leak the divorce story to the tabloids and blame Riley.”

“Wow. Why couldn’t you just have fired her?”

“Liam would never go for that. He’s so pussy whipped. That was always his problem. He only saw her as a piece of ass.”

*laughter* “You know my brother never could resist a pretty face. That’s why he ended up with you.”

“And I ended up with the wrong brother. You know it’s always been you. I just wish you wouldn’t have waited so long to see it.”

“Madeleine. I didn’t want to interfere with what you and my brother had.”

“Leo. Don’t give me that. I was never in love with Liam. I thought you knew that. How many times did I call you when I was married to him? If you would have said the word, I would have left him for you just like that.” *fingers snapping*

“What about the kids?”

*laughter* “That’s what family court is for. Do you actually think the judge would let him take them? I can play the neglected wife quite well. The only reason he agreed to joint is because I manipulated him into playing the ‘perfect marriage’ card. You should have seen the look on Riley’s face. After the tabloid story leaked, all our friends thought he cheated on me with the nanny. The whole thing played out just like I planned it.”

“Wow. You are one diabolical woman, Maddy.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

The audio ends and everyone sits stunned. Except for Leo. He just leans back — a smirk on his face — examining his nails. Liam’s face is beet red and he takes several deep breaths, trying to control his rage. Madeleine’s mouth hangs open in disbelief, all the color drained from her face. I sit back, trying to swallow the baseball-sized lump in my throat. Finally, Leo breaks the silence.

“So, what do you have to say for yourself, Maddy?”

Her face twists up in anger. “You set me up, you asshole.”

I leap from my seat. “You set me up! You hateful bitch!” Liam grabs my arm, trying to pull me back down. Thank gods his grip is strong because I’m two seconds away from leaping over this coffee table and tearing her face off.

“You broke up my family, you skank.”

Liam’s voice booms. “Don't pin this on her. You broke up our family when you slept with another man.”

“You could have made this easier on yourself if you would have just agreed to my deal, Liam. We could have had the perfect family front and you’d still get to keep your whore.”

“Fuck you, Madeleine,” I spit out.

“Okay, okay. As fun as this is to watch. It’s getting a little too heated for my taste,” Leo says, standing up to step between us. “We all know Maddy here is a hateful shrew. But what do you want from her, Liam?”

“Sole custody. Or I take this to the judge.”

“You wouldn’t,” she snaps.

“Watch me.”

She stares him down with a look of absolute hate. Her eyes dart to me, then to Leo. After several long seconds, her head drops back and she rolls her eyes. “Fine. You can have sole.”

Liam nods. “I’ll have my lawyers draw up the new paperwork. Now, get the fuck out of my house.”

She scoffs then gathers up her things and stomps out. Leo turns back to us, a huge smirk on his face. “This was fun. Let’s do it again sometime.” He leans over and claps his brother on the shoulder, then winks at me and heads toward the elevator.

Once we’re alone, Liam turns to me and frames my face in his hands. “I’m so, so sorry, Riley. I had no idea.” I place my hands on his chest and nod, trying not to cry.

“I never realized she hated me that much. All I cared about was being Philip and Charlotte’s nanny. I didn’t take this job because I thought you were hot. I took it because I love kids and I felt this was a good fit. Falling in love with you was just a bonus.”

He grips my chin in his thumb and forefinger, tipping my face up towards his. “You’re in love with me?”

“Of course, I am.”

He smiles and leans down to claim my mouth with his. The kiss is soft at first but quickly grows rough and passionate. He lets out a low moan and I take that as an opportunity to slide my hand beneath the waistband of his pants.

“Fuck, Riley,” he growls.

I grab his hand and walk him up the stairs to his bedroom. Once we’re there, I push up his shirt and plant featherlight kisses across his chest. He grasps my face in his hands, pulling it to his and kissing me hard. The kisses become hotter, teeth tugging lips, and hands roaming every inch of each other’s bodies. We shed our clothes and I climb onto his four-poster bed.

“You know. I saw this bed on my first day here, and I almost jumped on it to test it out. Good thing I didn’t, huh?”

“If I came here and saw a beautiful woman like you in my bed, I’d have thought I’d died and gone to heaven,” he smirks.

I wrap my hands around his neck and pull his body on top of mine, his weight pinning me down on the soft mattress. His stiff cock finds my pussy, nudging at my opening. I grip his length in my hand and stroke it up and down my clit. He trails kissed down my neck, across my collarbone, and to my breasts. He takes one of the pink buds in his mouth and begins to suck. The sensation shoots to my core. He moves to the other one, giving it a gentle nibble. Pretty sure I’m dripping wet right now.

He continues kissing his way down my body, his tongue drawing a line down my naval until he reaches the apex of my thighs. His hot breath sends a shiver through my body. His tongue flicks my clit and I nearly come on his face at that moment. Another stroke of his tongue against my folds elicits a moan from me. Before long, I’m writhing against his face, my orgasm slamming into me. I lay on the bed, struggling to catch my breath as he looks up at me, his face shiny from my arousal. He kisses his way up my body and captures my lips.

“Condom?” I ask. He nods and reaches into the nightstand to retrieve one from the drawer. He tears it open and rolls it over his cock. I lean up and capture his lips in a sweet kiss, then he thrusts into me. I wrap my legs around his hips, pulling him close.

“Riley…” he grunts.

“I’m right here, Liam.” He presses his forehead against mine and grips my ass, his hips pistoning as he drives his cock into my pussy. I feel another orgasm tear through me with blistering heat. I look up at him and see his eyes close as his orgasm follows shortly after. He collapses on top of me, breathing heavily and dotting my neck and face with kisses.

“Wow…Holy shit, Riley.”

Yep, pretty much how I feel right now. Who knew that it could feel this good after a month. I run my hands through his hair, caressing the soft strands. He sucks in a deep breath, then rolls off of me, and pulls me into his chest. He plants a soft kiss on my shoulder.

“Can I tell you something?”

I turn back to look at him. “Sure.”

“Earlier. When you said you were in love with me. Did you mean it?”

I nod.

He smiles and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Good. Because I’m in love with you, too.”

[shanghai-ohmy]

MaoMaoctober Day 24: Trickster

Welcome back, G-rated fics! In today’s fic, a string of thefts breaks out across Pure Heart Valley. Badgerclops is on the case. Mao Mao connects the dots. Snugglemagne is also there. Read it on AO3, or under the cut.

It was the third theft in a week, and it was even more brazen than the last two. Mao Mao stalked around the scene as Badgerclops and Adorabat placed down evidence markers. Sunlight streamed through the shattered glass of the skylight. Where there should have been a rich tapestry on the wall, there was now only empty space.

"Oh, it's absolutely horrible!" King Snugglemagne lamented, throwing his hand against his head dramatically. "My beautiful palace, vandalized! And my precious self-portrait, stolen!"

Badgerclops patted him on the back. "There there, it's not so- wait, SELF portrait? You weave?!"

The king turned his nose up indignantly. "I have many talents, thank you very much!"

Mao Mao slammed his fist on a nearby table, startling both of them. "It doesn't make any sense!" He glared at the bare wall. "What's the message? The motive? Why steal a prized tapestry from the king?"

"Political unrest?" Adorabat suggested.

"Raw, visceral attraction to the king's hot body?" Badgerclops posited.

Mao Mao shot him a withering look. He addressed Adorabat's theory instead. "That's a good instinct Adorabat, but it doesn't have enough backing. There haven't been any recent upsets, and King Snugglemagne is very popular with the sweetypies right now."

"Perhaps it wasn't a sweetypie at all," the king said nervously.

Mao Mao's eyes widened. "That's it! These aren't local crimes at all! Someone is trying to send me a message!"

"Hey man," Badgerclops interrupted, "I know it's like, your hunch and all, but why does the message have to be for you and not me? I used to hang out with literal thieves, remember?"

Mao Mao shushed him. "Badgerclops please, don't be ridiculous. This case could only be meant to challenge me, the legendary Mao Mao! It'll be my greatest investigation yet!"

Badgerclops huffed, crossing his arms.

"Um, Mao Mao?" Adorabat asked. "How do you solve a mystery?"

Mao Mao grinned. "Just watch me, Adorabat. You're about to find out." He swept out of the room, cape billowing behind him. Adorabat flew in his wake, dazzled.

A bright flash painted the room in stark white contrast. Badgerclops remained behind, photographing the crime scene. He carefully examined each piece of evidence. As he glanced over the shards of skylight glass, he noticed something out of place.

---

“The first thing you need to do is establish a motive,” Mao Mao explained. “Who would hate me enough to track down Pure Heart Valley and threaten the king?”

“The sky pirates?”

“It’s possible.” Mao Mao pinned a blurry photo of Orangusnake to the corkboard behind their office desk. Already up on the wall were newspaper clippings about the three thefts that had occurred, along with a map of the city. “But I suspect this crime is too high-minded for the sky pirates. This thief is playing games with us. Toying with us. And I can think of one tanuki who just loves to play games.” He pinned a photo of himself with Tanya Keys to the board and pointed at her face.

“But I thought she liked you again after we saved Badgerclops!”

Mao Mao sighed. “Tanya is a complicated woman, Adorabat. She could be sending me a message. Or she might have turned on us again. But she has all the right motives for revenge!”

“Umm… does she?”

“Of course! I mean, we… um, she and the king… hm.” Mao Mao put his hand on his chin, thinking.

“What about a bad guy you and Badgerclops fought from before you came here?”

“That’s it! Adorabat, you’re a genius!” Mao Mao flung open a desk drawer and began to sort through a pile of mugshots clipped from newspapers. “Let’s see, the Honeybee Bandits were released a few weeks ago, Red-Eyes Rex got out last month, The Scorcher really had it out for us when we put her away…” He mumbled to himself as he pulled out potential suspects. A few moments later, they were all pinned to the board. 

“Okay, Adorabat. Let’s narrow the field.” Mao Mao went criminal by criminal, explaining their methods and how he and Badgerclops had caught them. He and Adorabat argued over motive, modus operandi, and possible alibis for every one. After an exhaustive process, they’d narrowed it down to a field of four suspects.

“And now for the real work.” Mao Mao pulled a ball of red string from the desk.

“I thought you said it was time for work… why are you getting out your favorite ball of yarn?”

“Huh? Sorry Adorabat, what did you say? I was… distracted.” Mao Mao’s claws were out. There was string tangled between his fingers. His pupils quickly contracted again as he snapped out of it.

“ANYWAY, the board!” He turned his attention back to the suspects. “Hmm…” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

“Hmm,” Adorabat mimicked, copying the motion too.

---

Badgerclops trailed the suspect carefully. It wasn’t easy work; he was huge compared to the sweetypies, and his fur pattern was very distinctive. Even Mail Mole could see him coming. So he’d requisitioned a car with tinted windows instead of following on foot. It was cramped, but effective. 

The target made a sharp turn into a park. Badgerclops swore. Had he been noticed? The car wouldn’t be able to follow in there. He had to make a choice: ditch the car and hoof it, or try to anticipate the suspect’s point of exit. Reluctantly, he parked. This was too close to over. He couldn’t risk losing the trail now. He’d make it work on foot, somehow. 

He slipped into the park. His suspect was nearly out of view, nothing more than a distant figure. But he couldn’t run; that would make his pursuit far too obvious. He followed at a distance, taking different paths and keeping trees between them. Sometimes he’d lose sight of the target, but never for long.

They exited the park. Badgerclops could feel it now. The thief’s stash was close. All he needed now was a chance.

---

“My god, Adorabat.” Mao Mao looked shell-shocked. “It goes all the way to the top.”

A tangle of red string criss-crossed the corkboard, a baffling series of connections twisting and angling around one another. Many of them converged to a newly-added picture of King Snugglemagne, a glamorous headshot adorned with his signature.

“It all makes sense now…” Mao Mao stepped back, awed at his own conclusion.

“Umm, can you please explain it one more time?”

Mao Mao sighed. “Adorabat, please. It’s very simple. King Snugglemagne faked the theft of his own self-portrait, along with the two earlier burglaries, because he’s under immense blackmail pressure from Red-Eye.” He traced his claw along the connecting string. “The details in these articles line up exactly with Falkestrasse’s Ten Behaviors of the Blackmailed-” he pointed to a sheet of paper that looked like it had been ripped from a textbook. “But the king doesn’t know that Red-Eye is actually Tanya Keys disguised as Red-Eye Rex. She’s scamming him for his fortune with a fake blackmail scheme. Of course, the king himself set up the blackmail as part of a-”

Before he could continue, Badgerclops kicked the front door open. “Yo, Mao Mao! Get the jail cell open!”

“Badgerclops?! What are you-”

“LET ME GO! I’LL KILL YOU ALL! YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I’M CAPABLE OF!” Pinky wriggled fruitlessly in Badgerclops’s mechanical grasp, screaming at all three members of the sheriff’s department.

Mao Mao laughed. “Hah, I guess the mystery was too hard for you, huh Badgerclops? Back to arresting Pinky for petty crimes again?” He swung the jail cell open. “What was it this time?” He asked Pinky. “Steal another ice cream?”

Pinky spat at him. “I want my lawyer! It’s my tapestry! I already had it!”

“Tapestry?”

Badgerclops slammed the cell door shut and locked it. “Yeah Mao Mao, tapestry! The big thing that got stolen? Remember?”

“No, that’s… that’s not possible, Badgerclops!” Mao Mao laughed nervously. “It can’t be Pinky! I mean, look at the evidence!” He gestured to the unintelligible mass of string and paper pinned to the wall. “I figured it all out!”

“It’s actually very simple,” Adorabat explained. “You see-”

Badgerclops cut her off. “Adorabat, do you want to learn how to solve a mystery?”

She nodded.

“Step one, you review the evidence. You know, the ACTUAL evidence?” He dropped a manila folder on the table, fanning out an array of photographs from it. The crime scene was meticulously documented. “Before you go making any assumptions about how the crime is really all about you-” he glared pointedly at Mao Mao- “you need to examine everything thoroughly.” Badgerclops pulled out a photo and showed Adorabat. “This sliver of glass had a tiny bit of blood on it. AND: pink fur.”

Adorabat gasped.

“BEING PINK ISN’T A CRIME!” Pinky hollered from the jail cell.

“Dude shut up, I’m trying to have a parlor scene here!” Badgerclops walked over to the cage and pulled a tarp down over it, muffling the sound. “Ahem. Step two is to find a suspect. Obviously the pink fur was a major clue. Now it could be a red herring, laid by a clever criminal to misdirect us. But in this case, we already have the perfect perp.” He gestured towards the covered jail cell. “Pinky’s fur matches, he has the motive of being a generally horrible person, and he’s always been kinda weirdly into the king. It makes sense that he’d steal the tapestry.”

“Next you need to track your suspect down and see what you can find out about them. This part’s really important, even if you have the perfect suspect, because it might be a frame job. Now, Pinky is easy to find thanks to the general unpleasantness he inspires, so I was able to get on his trail within a few minutes. I tailed him for about an hour before he went for his stash. He slipped into a closed-up storefront, and when I followed him I found THIS!”

Badgerclops slapped a photo down on the table. What it depicted could only be described as a shrine. The tapestry hung proudly from a wall, flanked by candles and various Snugglemagne memorabilia. “Half of this stuff was filed as stolen goods, and you can see the two thefts from earlier this week in there too.” Badgerclops pointed out a couple of the objects. “Anyway, I secured the whole scene and took Pinky into custody. And now we’re here.” He folded his hands pleasantly.

Adorabat was starstruck.

Mao Mao cleared his throat. “Badgerclops, I… I’m impressed. That’s some top notch detective work.”

“But you had fun with your string, right?”

Mao Mao crossed his arms and fumed. “I was trying to be nice.”

Badgerclops patted him on the head. “I know. But you were kind of a jerk earlier, so…” Badgerclops stuck his tongue out. “I caught the bad guy and you didn’t! Ha ha!”

Mao Mao wanted to punch him, but he knew Badgerclops was right to gloat. He’d messed this one up pretty bad. “Yeah yeah, keep going. You were right and smart, I’m a dumb asshole, blah blah blah.”

Badgerclops’s eye softened. “You’re not dumb, Mao Mao. You just got carried away.” He kissed him on the forehead. Mao Mao blushed all the way up to his ears.

“You are an asshole though.”

[mf-despair-queen]

Your Name (Part 3) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @mf-despair-queen​

Characters: Stiles Stilinski/Reader

Word Count: 5,745

Summary: Stiles is determined to find the girl with no name, only to get some hard truths about her.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Nudity, Touching, Masturbation

Notes: Hello. Long time no see. This has returned to make you cry. Literally, you will cry. 

Listen to Me (Please note you are not required to listen)

Part 2 | Part 4

I'll tell her about the disastrous date the next time we switch, I thought. But...

The moon shone overhead, lighting up the dark sky behind a few clouds that would float by. The streets were barren, the street lamps flickering with age. The night ticked on.

One Am…

Two Am…

Three Am…

The high school graduate with chocolate colored hair and honey flavored eyes sat on his bed, tapping the dry erase marker in his hand. He turned occasionally to type on his ;aptop that was sitting on the blue blankets, sticking said marker between his teeth while his fingers ran over the keyboard skillfully.

When he finished typing, he would stand from the bed, grabbing sheets after sheets of paper from the printer, taping them to the clear crime board his father bought him over a year ago. He grabbed the red string from his desk connecting pictures together as they related to his pending investigation.

He didn’t feel tired staring at the board.

He didn’t feel the layer of sleep that he was deprived of for the last forty-eight hours.

He hadn’t taken his Adderall in who knows how long.

No. His mind was focused for once, scanning over the board a million and one times. The cap on his marker was thoroughly chewed threw from his constant gnawing in thought. The tried to make the connections, figuring out the information he was missing. Google was his second home as he tried to find the familiar landmarks he could think of.

His eyes narrowed on the lake he had drawn in the middle of the board slopping, his hand running through his tousled and oiled hair fro his lack of bathing. He brushed the crumbs of his chips off his red shirt, standing once more from his bed to advance on the board. His blue checkered pajama bottoms hung low on his waist. His happy trail of hair stuck out when his shirt rode up slightly. He traced his fingers lightly over the scribbled words in the middle of the makeshift lake, careful not to smudge it.

“I will find you,” he mumbled to himself, letting his fingers play with the cord bracelet on his wrist. “I promise.”

He finally collapsed to his bed, falling into a much needed restless sleep, the words on the board plaguing his dreams.

Where are you?

~

Stiles shoved handfuls of clothes into his Nike duffel bag, his laptop in his backpack. He made sure to grab his phone charger, stuffing that in his bag before zipping it closed. He turned to look at his board, biting his lip once before taking photos down, shoving them and a map of Northern California in his bag.

Slinging his belongings over his shoulder, he rushed out the door, taking one last look back before jotting down the stairs. He wrote a quick note for his dad, a solemn look falling on his face. “I’m sorry, dad,” he whispered to noone but the air. “I wish I could stay and spend the rest of summer with you before I have to head to college, but I have to find her. And I don’t know how long it will take.”

He placed the note down next to a photo of him and his dad, the two sharing a hug at Stiles’ graduation. The stilinski boy smiled sadly, running his fingers over it, almost debating against leaving. But his eyes stopped on the bracelet of the girl he didn’t know the name of,

“I’ll be back before you know it, dad. I swear. Once I find her, I will be back.”

Stiles grabbed his bundle of keys from the bowl by his door, sliding on his shoes. He locked the front door behind him as he left, lugging his bags towards his trust jeep, Roscoe. Only, he stopped short when he stopped a familiar Hispanic werewolf leaning against the driver’s side door, his eyes piercing his.

“You know, your whole Alpha aura you have going on right now isn’t very intimidating,” Stiles said, throwing his bags in the back of the jeep. Scott still watched him, Stiles grimacing at his look. “Alright, maybe it is a bit intimidating.”

“Stiles-”

“What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were going to visit your dad before you left for Davis.”

“You dad called,” Scott said, Stiles freezing slightly. “He’s worried about you.”

“I’m fine, Scotty.”

“He said you were leaving.”

Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I-I’m…”

“He said you’ve been acting weird since…” Scott paused, staring at his feet. “Since your date with Lydia.”

“I’m not-”

“You’ve been holed up in your room, not sleeping for days on end. He can hear your printer running at three in the morning. He poked his head in when you finally fell asleep to see all the work you had done on your crime board. All for this girl in your dreams.”

“She’s real, Scotty,” Stiles told him. “And I’m going to find her. She’s not just a dream. I-I know she’s real.”

“I know,” Scott breathed, Stiles gaping at the boy’s words. “And I’m coming with you.”

“You don’t have-”

“I want to help,” Scott said.

“No. We want to help.” Stiles turned to Lydia, her purse over his shoulder with a pink duffle bag on the ground beside her. Her Gucci sunglasses covered her eyes but she held a smug look on her face. “I knew you were acting different because of some girl. So, we are here to help you win her over. We all know how helpless you are with women, Stiles.”

Stiles scratched at the back of his head. “Thanks for that,” he muttered sarcastically. “And you know I was acting different around you because-”

He stopped talking, his lips sealing. Neither Scott nor Lydia knew about the switches and he didn’t know how crazy he would sound if he said it now. To mention he was going to find the girl in his dreams without a name that he was somehow switching bodies with for the last who knows how long because he had feelings for her. Sure, they had seen many strange things because of the werewolf-y things of Beacon Hills, but this was a whole new level.

“Because?” Both Scott and Lydia asked, snapping Stiles from his daze.

“It’s nothing. Nevermind.” He gave them a weak smile, one he knew neither of his friends were believing. “You guys do know I have no idea where I’m going, right?”

“Your little internet girlfriend didn’t tell you where she lives?” Lydia asked, Stiles frowning deeply. “Well, that’s fine.”

“What?” Stiles blinked.

“We’ll find her, Stiles,” Scott reassured the spazz with a firm pat on the shoulder. “Besides, we needed one last trip before college. It doesn’t matter how long it takes or how far we have to go. We will find her.”

“Thanks guys,” stiles cracked, wiping at his eyes.

“You’re welcome,” Scott said with a bright smile.

“Now that we have agreed on that, we can take my car,” Lydia said.

“Oh no, no, no,” Stiles said quickly, flailing his hands. “I am not going anywhere without this jeep! If we are going to find her, we are doing it my way!”

“Don’t you remember the trip to Mexico?” Lydia tried to remind him, finding the look on his face unwavering. She knew he wasn’t planning to change his mind. “Or the very uncomfortable back seat that someone, namely me probably, is going to be sitting on for who knows how long?” Stiles still said nothing. “It’s lumpy!”

“You don’t have to come, Lydia,” Stiles hummed, opening the driver’s side door. “I wasn’t planning on company anyway so I’m more than willing to leave you behind if you can’t handle the lumpy back seat.”

“Move then,” Lydia snapped, though her tone said she wasn’t nearly as frustrated as she let on. She placed her bags in the back of the jeep, glaring at the boys before climbing in. “Don’t look.”

“Not looking,” the boys muttered in unison, turning away to avoid seeing up her skirt as she clambered into the jeep. Scott, too, placed his belongings in the back of the jeep, shutting it so it secured and locked. The werewolf slid into his normal passenger seat, taking the map Stiles handed him when he threw himself into the driver’s seat. The key was twisted and much to Stiles’ delight, Roscoe started with a small pop of the engine, choosing not to give him issues this time. He ran his hands along the wheels of the jeep, smiling to himself before looking at the bracelet she had given him.

“Where to?” Scott asked, glancing at the red circles Stiles had littered all over the map.

“All I know is there she lives in some woodland area of Northern California, a few hours from San Francisco. There is a giant lake that she lives by. The down circles the lake,” Stiles told them, recalling every bit of information he knew about the place she lived. He didn’t know the name - he couldn’t ever recall it. But he knew what it looked like and that she had been planning to go on vacation to San Francisco before the end of summer, which was due south-east from them. Other than that, he was taking a shot in the dark trying to find her.

“Do you know how many areas that could be, Stiles?” Scott asked. Stiles gave him a look, Scott letting his head drop. “Of course you know. Well, we’re wasting time sitting here. Let’s hit up… Little Grass Valley first, I guess. It’s the closest.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Stiles said, backing the jeep out of the driveway, heading down the lonely road towards the unfamiliar sign that read ‘Now Leaving Beacon Hills’.

The car was quiet besides the small chatter between Lydia and Scott who were planning their route and trying to remain preoccupied and the soft hum of All Time Low playing through his speakers. Stiles didn’t pay attention to any of that. His mind had once again wandered to her, picturing the smile she would have on her face when he shows up at her door, telling her that he came just to find her. The thought of holding her in his arms for real made his heart thump loudly, the blood rushing through his veins drowning out any bit of noise around him.

His hand wrung at the steering wheel, knuckles turning white. His eyes narrowed on the road ahead of him, his tongue pressing to the roof of his mouth in thought.

I’m coming for you.

~

Stiles laid restless in the motel bed he was sharing with Scott. For two days, they had driven nonstop around the woods of northern California, no sign of the town he desired in their sight. No one they talked to knew the place he town, or they told him a different town thinking it was where he was headed. And with each passing failure, his heart sunk more and more, bobbing haphazardly in a bit of stomach acid. He could feel his will - his resolve to find her - dissolving, slipping through his fingers like grains of sand.

He turned to look at the sleeping werewolf, frowning at the slight bags under his eyes in the moonlight that flooded through the windows. He turned next to lydia, her normally pristine strawberry blonde locks dull and knotted. Her eyes were covered with a black sleep mask but he knew she had similar bags upon her skin. He wouldn’t hear the last of it when they returned home.

Slowly, he slipped out of bed, pulling on his shoes. He didn’t bother changing from his pajama pants, opting to slide an older Beacon Hills Lacrosse hoodie over his shirt, before grabbing the room key and car key, sneaking out the door. He took a deep breath of the chilled summer night air. The woods they found themselves staying in at a lonely motel were colder than home, sending shivers up his spine, but the air was refreshing and desperately needed.

He walked slowly around the motel a few times, relaxing in the night air, staring up at the starry sky. A small smile filled his face when he remembered the nights he would stare at the stars in her body, knowing that they were under it together far away. But the thought also made him sad, questioning if he would find her. He asked himself if he would be able to speak to her again, this time in person rather than through their little messages left for one another. He wanted to hold her tight, never letting her go again. She slipped through his fingers once before, assuming his dream at the start of summer was true, so he wasn’t eager to feel that way again.

He topped at the motel room door, looking at the key in his hand. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep anytime soon and he didn’t want to risk waking his companions with his restless behavior. Instead of stepping into the room, he turned to the jeep, sitting in the driver’s seat. Placing his things aside, he ran his hands over the wheel, thinking aloud.

“Will I ever find you?” he whispered, his voice half cracked. “Is this a waste of time, nothing but wishful thinking? Is this all in vain?”

Leaning forward, his forehead rested on the wheel, letting his eyes closing. Behind his closed eyelids, he saw her form, a beckoning finger taunting him forward. He took cautious steps forward, finding himself in the familiar bedroom he awoke in often throughout the summer. He glanced around, confused as to how he got there.

“Stiles,” she whispered.

“Is this real?” he asked, not believing his eyes. He was still in his pajamas, the shoes he wore tracking mud over the cream carpet. She simply smiled, giving a nod from her spot sitting on the bed. Stiles took cautious steps forward, the scene before him seemingly changing before his eyes.

She sat on her her, a silky, see-through nightgown over her body. The bottom rode up from her sitting position, showing the laced blue cheeksters she wore under it. Slowly she stood of the bed, taking tentative steps towards the spazz. When she stopped in front of him, he allowed his hands to move without thought, cupping her cheeks. They were soft to the touch, the pads of his thumbs running along the curvature of her jaw. Her eyes closed, relaxing into his touch.

“How is this real?” he asked, slightly choked up. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. How is this possible?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she told him with a smile. She slowly pried his hands from her face, placing a light kiss to them before stepping back so he could see her entire form in the light of her room. “All that matters is that you are here now, Stiles. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

“Really?” he asked, licking his lips to ease the dryness that had developed.

“Of course. It’s been so long, Stiles,” She told him. She slowly pulled the straps of her nightgown down her arms, letting the loose silk material fall to the floor. Stiles could feel his eyes widen, his orbs the size of golf balls at the sight of her nearly nude body. She wore nothing under the gown besides the panties on her hips, not bothering to hide form from his hungry eyes. Her breasts stood uncovered, round and perky against her chest. Stiles felt a trail of drool sliding down his chin that he had to awkwardly wipe away, cheeks flushed when she giggled. Her hips sashayed when she stepped forward again, her hands finds his. “I want you, Stiles.”

“R-really?” he asked, scolding himself when his throat clogged up. “I-I mean, I just found you. We aren’t moving too fast, are we?”

“Of course not,” she giggled. “This isn’t our first rodeo after all.” She took his hands, placing them on her chest. Stiles took a sharp breath, mumbling incoherent reassurances to himself to stay calm, though he could feel his loose pajama pants becoming… not so loose. She smiled up at him, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. Her lips moved to place a trail of kisses to his jaw, Stiles’ eyes closing at the soft touches. “Now, if you’re done questioning, I want you, Stiles.”

Stiles didn’t respond, his lips finding hers. He felt at home once they were connected. It was a dream come true. The way their lips molded together in perfect harmony and the way her body pressed perfectly against his was something he never thought he would experience outside of his head. Her lips parted to let his tongue slip in, his head tilting to allow himself more room. Their tongues battled for dominance, hers giving up shortly after the battle began to let him take the reign. Their lips smacked together noisily, pulling away for small bursts of hair before dipping in to move along each other again.

His hands moved along her torso, letting his fingers trace every inch of her skin. Small circles were draw to her hips and stomach, eliciting small moans that were lost to the kiss they shared. His hands eventually wrapped around her complete,y her chest meeting his, only blocked by the hoodie he wore. His hand cupped her ass, sliding under the band of her cheeksters so his palm rested on the cheek itself. Her arms wrapped around his neck, playing with the hairs on the back of his neck, threading through the locks on the back of his head. The kiss never ceased, only getting more fierce by the second.

He stepped forward - her stepping back at the same time - until her knees buckled under her weight, dropping to the bed behind her. Stiles fell atop her, trailing his kisses down her jaw to her neck. Her back arched off the bed when his lips found her chest, kissing the hard peaks of her nipples. He shook at the sound of her mewls, kissing the bud harder, giving it light tugs of the lips.

His hand fondled the bare breast opposite his lips, amplifying the moans she released. He smiled against her skin, ravishing her chest in every way he could. His hips ground into hers, his body heating up with the desire that was building. He pulled away with small pops, letting out uneven breaths that fanned over her skin. He was ready to strip his clothes over his head, the heat starting to become too much. The noises she made only intensified his feelings, pushing him to kiss harder and make the strain of his hardened shaft become more apparent.

“Stiles,” she moaned, his lips moving back to hers. His name slipped through her lips repeatedly between kisses, thought he sound started to become more distant until it was nothing more than a whisper against his ear.

“Stiles.”

“Stiles.”

“Stiles….”

He jolted upright, finding himself back in the jeep. He was alone, the time on his phone reading 3:12 AM. He groaned to himself, his hands running along his face, ruffling his already messed up hair.

“Again,” he scolded himself. “Again, I’m dreaming about her. But it felt so real. I wasn’t even asleep and she was there. Why is this happening to me?” He leaned back in the seat, finding the same erection he has just seen in his daydream. It was almost painful, Stiles shifting back and forth in the seat. “Great. And I’m horny.”

He closed his eyes, seeing her once more. He only grimaced when he spied her in the darkness. “Stop taunting me,” he pleaded, biting at his lip.

“It’s ok, Stiles,” she said.

His eyes cracked open, pushing his pajama pants down his legs. Even without her voice ringing in his ears, he knew he couldn’t go back into the motel room with the hard on. He pushed his hoodie and shirt up with one hand, the other grasping his hardened cock gently. It started with small strokes, Stiles feeling relief for the pleasure that spiked in his system.

His eyes closed as he sped up, taking two seconds to crack the level, his seat leaning back. The skin of his shaft was slightly pulled over the tip, his thumb smearing the precum over the slit. He let out low grunts, chest heaving with the pants he was letting out. His hold was strong, jerking himself in every way he knew he enjoyed.

The more he stroked himself, the more he could feel her presence, feeling like she was there with him. He could feel her behind him, her hands massaging at his shoulders. Her lips ghosted over his ear, whispering into it, “It’s ok, Stiles.”

He moved faster, heavy breaths coming from his lips. Her hands moved along his covered arms, the hairs rising on end with the goosebumps that appeared. It didn’t take him long to feel himself tensing up, the soft words she whispered into his ear making his stomach clench twice as hard. His eyes squeezed shut tighter than before, feeling her place a kiss to his cheek.

The kiss was what spurred his release. His seed shot from the tip, coating the lower part of his stomach, hitting the ab lines he had developed from years of lacrosse. The white fluid stuck to his trail of hair that usually disappeared into his pants, Stiles letting out low grunts with each new shot that landed in the dark hairs. He eased every drop out, letting his body relax in the seat and her embrace.

“I love you, Stiles,” she mumbled into his ear. “I’m sorry.”

He snapped to attention at the sudden loss of warmth she provided, turning on his seat to find himself alone in the jeep. He frowned at the emptiness he felt, digging into his glove compartment for the tissues and napkin he kept for emergencies. Cleaning himself up, he fixed his pants, remaining still in the chair. He made no effort to move towards the motel.

He felt more alone than ever, like a piece of him was ripped out and was swallowed by an abyss of darkness. His heart clenched unhappily, not knowing why he was hurting as much as he was.

He leaned against the wheel again, his hands resting in his lap. His hand wrapped around the wrist with the bracelet, giving it a heartfelt squeeze. Slowly, drops of water landed on the tops of his hands, tears trickling down his cheeks with his uncertainty. He didn’t bother to wipe them away, allowing himself to cry for the reasons he didn’t know. He just knew he felt hurt and keeping the tears in would only hurt more.

“Why?” he asked to no one, his voice cracked and choked. “Why can’t I stop? Why can’t I let you go?”

He felt himself crumble, the sobs wracking his body, the tears coming out stronger. He felt alone and at a loss. He was in the middle of nowhere, trying to find a place he didn’t know for a girl he couldn’t remember the name of. He was playing an unwinnable game and he couldn’t stop feeling like it was worthless to continue.

But he couldn’t stop.

“Please,” he whispered through his tears. “Please.”

“I need you.”

~

“I think we should head home,” Stiles whispered the next day while the group ate lunch. Scott froze in the middle of going to take a bite of his burger, eying his best friend. Lydia cocked an eyebrow at him, pausing in reapplying her makeup to look at the spazz.

“Seriously, Stiles?” Scott asked, putting his half-eaten burger down.

“Yeah,” Stiles choked out, gnawing at his lip. He played with a french fry, his food completely untouched. “This is a lost cause, guys.”

“That’s not the Stiles we know,” Lydia pouted. “You don’t ever give up like this.”

“She’s right. What’s going on dude?” Scott agreed.

“I-I just,” Stiles tried to say, dropping the fry. “We don’t know where we are going or what we are doing. I feel bad enough for dragging you guys around for days trying to find a place I don’t know. I don’t even know if it exists. All I have are some pictures and memories. I’m leading you guys on a wild goose chase and we are always doomed to be the loser.”

“Stiles.”

“No, Scott,” he interrupted. He pulled the pictures from his backpack, spreading them over the table after pushing his food aside. “This is all I have. I can’t tell you where this place is.” He pointed at the picture of the lake for emphasis. “We are going nowhere and I’m not going to lead you guys on like I know what I’m doing. It’s not fair to you that I’m pulling you away from your summer for my wild imagination and some girl I think exists.”

“She’s real,” Scott tried to reassure him. “She has to be.”

“I agree,” Lydia chimed. “And if she can get you to drive around for days like this, she needs to meet you. She’s distracted you this much so she must be pretty amazing. We’ve come this far and we’ve never given up before. We didn’t give up when you were taken by the Ghost Riders, so you can’t give up on this girl.”

“Guys…”

“Excuse me,” the waitress said, approaching their table. The trio glanced at her skeptically. “I couldn’t help but notice your picture. That’s a rare sight to see. Not many people these days know about Lake Almanor.”

“Lake Almanor?” Scott asked. Stiles pulled out the map, placing it over the pictures.

“Yeah, just north of here actually. Maybe an hour and a half drive?” she pointed to the lake on the map followed by where they were currently; Bucks Lake. “There is a small town there too. It’s called-”

“Prattsville,” Stiles let out breathlessly. Scott and Lydia rode an eyebrow, questioning him. “That’s it. That’s where she lives. We have to go. Now.”

Stiles gathered his stuff, dropping a bundle of bills of the table before rushing out the door. He missed the waitress trying to catch his attention, Scott and Lydia mumbling apologies before rushing after their friend. The jeep was already started when they got out the door, barely managing to get in before Stiles was rushing down the bumpy dirt road, mud flinging behind them. Stiles said nothing to this companions, too focused on the destination ahead.

Near an hour later, after much speeding down the dirt roads of the woods, he spied the same crystal clear lake in the distance. His eyes widened, his smile covering his face. When they hit the roads of the town, passing the sign that read ‘Welcome to Prattsville’, he could almost grasp the light in front of him, his goal in reach.

But the streets were dead and vacant, houses run down and decayed. He frowned as he slowed down, driving down street after street in search of her house. Scott and Lydia shared a familiar look, almost as if they had seen something like this before. Lydia in particular could feel her stomach churning with tension, her ears ringing and her nerves heightened.

“Stiles,” Scott mumbled.

“I don’t get it,” he mumbled. “This place is normally so lively.”

“Something isn’t right,” Lydia said.

“No shit,” Stiles grumbled irritably. “Is that you being pessimistic or is that a banshee premonition?”

“This isn’t a joke, Stiles,” Lydia grumbled.

“Just,” Stiles breathed, tightening his hold on the wheel. “Let me find her house and make sure she’s ok.”

Scott and Lydia stayed quiet, letting Stiles focus on the houses they passed. It wasn’t until he slammed on his breaks, staring up at a rundown house with the paint chipped and the windows broken, that they began to worry. He threw the jeep into park, barely killing the engine before falling to the dirt outside. Stiles ignored the cuts of the rocks in his plans and the dust on his flannel as he ran up the stairs and into the house. Scott and Lydia followed after him, watching Stiles panic.

The house was bare of everything. Furniture, pictures, people. Everything he was used to when he was here was gone, not a single trace of anyone living there in years. It reminded him of the house next door in Beacon Hills - not an ounce of life present.

“No,” he muttered, running up the stairs and towards her room. His heart stopped when he pushed inside, finding it to be just as he could remember it. Bed properly made, pictures lining the desk, the bracelet making materials scattered on the wood top, clothes hanging in the closet. “Where is she? All of her stuff is here, so where is she?”

“What are you talking about?” Scott asked, eying his friend from the doorway.

“Her stuff-”

“There’s nothing here, Stiles,” Lydia mumbled.

Stiles frowned, his eyes squinting and narrowing on his friends. “What do you mean? Can you not see her room?”

“The room is empty, Stiles,” Scott told him hesitantly. Stiles’ heart stopped, trying to find words to say.

“T-that’s not possible,” he stuttered. “Her stuff. It’s all here. How-” Scott and Lydia shared a look, Stiles frowning. “What?”

He watched them, thinking back on everything he knew. The town was vacant and she was gone. No one knew who she was and his friends couldn’t see the things he saw. Only he knew about her. Only he could remember her.

“No,” he choked, shaking his head. “No. It’s not possible. We stopped that.”

“Stiles-”

He pushed passed his friends, stumbling down the stairs. His breathing was uneven, his eyes blurred with tears. He found himself outside, collapsed on his hands on knees in the dirt, gasping for air. His tears hit the ground in small droplets. His body shook with sobs, not wanting to believe what he was considering.

“Stiles, you need to breathe, dude!” Scott yelled, lifting his head from the ground. “You’re having a panic attack. You need to focus on breathing.”

“I-I can’t,” he cried. Scott sighed, covering his mouth and pinching his nose, cutting on his air supply.

“Just close your eyes and count to ten. Please,” Scott pleaded. Stiles nodded, doing as he asked.

In the darkness, he found himself in the dark train station. His heart pounded, taking slow steps through the vacant seats. He recalled the place, having spent so long there. This is the Ghost Riders’ station. Why was he here?

He stopped walking, spotting a figure standing alone at the edge of the tracks, looking up at the destination board that was posted. Slowly, the person turned, sad eyes looking deep into him. She was there, within reach. Stiles wanted to say something, his feet pushing against the ground.

It was almost like slow motion. He ran towards her, a hand extended to reach out for her. But before he could grasp her hand in his, she disintegrated, vanishing from existence. He skidded to a stop, feeling the lack of warmth from the night prior. He glanced at his empty hand, tears welling in his eyes again.

He looked up at the board, reading the familiar names. Red Oak… Trenton… Caanan… Harappa… But his eyes stopped in time with his heart, reading the name he couldn’t recall when he, himself, was present in the train station of the Ghost Riders.

“Prattville…” he mumbled, his eyes opening. Scott sent him a sad look, wanting to make sure his best friend was ok. “She was taken…”

“Stiles?” Lydia asked, Scott looking up at her. “What do you mean?”

“The Ghost Riders,” he choked, licking his lips. He pushed himself back into a sitting position, brushing his hands on his jeans. “The town was taken. It’s just like Caanan was. They’re gone.”

“But we saved the people taken by the Ghost Riders,” Scott protested.

“But does that include her?” he found himself asking. “We saved Beacon Hills, but did we save her?”

“No,” Stiles mumbled. “But that doesn’t make sense. This isn’t possible. She was just here. And the Ghost Riders left after we deterred the train and they took Mr. Douglas.”

A gust of wind blew past them, a paper brushing by them and hitting the back windshield of the jeep. The boys looked at it, Lydia, pulling it from the glass.

“‘Storm on the way. Said to be the worst storm to hit the town in centuries.’” Lydia read. She glanced the boys, taking a deep breath. “This was a year ago, guys.”

“W-what?’ Stiles asked, taking the paper when Lydia held it out for him. His hands shook, reading over the words. The paper was dated for July, almost exactly one year prior.

“A storm,” Scott said. “So, she was taken by the Ghost Riders.”

“I’m so sorry, Stiles,” Lydia said sadly. “I think she’s gone.”

“No,” he choked. “She can’t be. She was just here. It’s not possible. How… how did I switch with her then? How do I still remember her if she is gone for good? She can’t… she can’t be gone. I was just taking to her. I was just with her. She’s real…”

“Stiles,” Scott said, rubbing his back. “We’ll figure something out.”

“We did before. We can do it again,” Lydia continued.

“But, a year guys. I don’t get it. How were we switching?”

“What are you talking about?” Scott asked, watching his silent friend. “What aren’t you telling us? Does this have to do with the dreams and you acting funny.”

Stiles just nodded, standing from the ground. His tears slid down his cheeks, but he remained expressionless. His eyes weren’t the bright honey color they normally were; they were dull and lifeless. He was more pale than normal, his body wobbling and shaking uncontrollably. “I think we have a lot to talk about,” he mumbled, attempting to step towards the jeep.

Scott had to catch him before he feel, sob escaping his mouth. Lydia watched silently as the Alpha werewolf held his friend tightly, rubbing his back soothingly. Stiles cried openly, the broken boy unable to say anything more than two words.

“She’s gone.”

...for some reason, after that, Mitsuha and I never switched places again.

Errthang Tag 2.0: @catcrown21; @parislight; @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone; @savage-stilinski; @honeymoonmuke; @rumoured-whispers; @youshiverwhenyouhearmyname; @caitsymichelle13; @addicttotw; @fox-lau; @addicttotw; @kaelyn-lobrutto24; @lobrien; @kal-pal; @espermirror; @xmadwonderland; @nowthisiswaar; @belleknows; @ashpie97; @mixedupsammy; @dylobrienlover; @newtosaur250; @bandsweyhey; @offthewallspidey; @livinginadreamersparadise; @tommyswolves; @veronicarapp; @bilesbilinskix; @danathewitchywoman; @thisismexxo; @you-all-have-guns; @soulaura-canavel; @bojabee; @obrienswxlf; @feelingsareharddd; @xoitsjustmexo; @supernaturaltakeover; @suggsmate; @cassiee867; @malia--stilinski; @barryallenplease; @flirtstiles; @bottleoffirewhisky; @jadalecki-jackles; @evansesdust; @everythingthatisrandom; @puppiesarehappiness; @ixlovexpeterxparker; @onlyalittleteenwolfobsessed; @tenseoyong; @jadav5; @mischiefandi; @myrandomzshit; @disbestiles; @mxtchsbxtch; @dafine18; @avadakedabitch; @girlwiththerubyslippers; @xpinkyprincess; @ssweet-empowerment; @jackles-jadalecki

Want to be tagged? Send as ask! - Bold accounts are ones I cannot tag.  

[cescalr]

Hi can i request an au about stiles and malia being soulmates? Like both of them having the same mark or something idk i just love soulmates aus and i feel like they need one

I’m actually writing one, but since it’s a slow build thing and Malia’s not even in it yet, here’s another for ya! :D

In this world, magic is well known. How could it not be? A person has something descriptive regarding their soulmate magically tattoed onto their body once they meet them; it would be hard to ignore the fantastical nature of such an occurance.

In this world, because of this, werewolves are not hidden. Hunters are regulated and part of the police force, and therefore require the same background checks – though they are admittedly more like an army than anything else.

After all, if something like the Anuk-Ite got free, you couldn’t exactly arrest it now, could you?

So, in this world, various things didn’t happen. In this world, various things happened.

Some of them are unimportant. Many are, of course, in a background sense.

But some things stay the same.

Malia was still adopted.

Claudia still died.

They are similar people, if not the same. The dread doctors died years ago, for example, so there is no way for Donovan to be given enough power to be a danger.

(Creating betas is a regulated process, too. It requires you to be of age and sound of mind, because it is a life changing decision. It transforms you, forever, into something else. Something super-human in nature.)

For another, Malia’s mother was caught and killed a few months prior to Malia’s return to humanity. Perhaps this is why, in this world, she finds it easier to control her shift.

Or, perhaps it is that in this world, her father doesn’t think her crazy for ‘thinking’ she was a coyote for the past nine years.

(That, however, doesn’t stop him from not knowing what to do with her.)

Despite the world knowing about the supernatural, knowing about druids and shifters and beasts and banshees and the science of magic, that doesn’t stop the Nogitsune from being a danger.

It just stops Stiles from having to worry about people thinking he’s the one murdering people.

(But it does mean he’s more aware. There are mandatory classes about possession in every school, since the incident in ’02, ’19, ’21, ’34, ’40, and the incident at Oak Creek…)

Stiles puts himself away the second he puts two and two together.

Malia shows up two days into his stay. The nogitsune has been quiet, for now. He’s not sure why, but he’s not about to question it.

“Malia,” Stiles says, when he sees her at lunch. Scott’s been visiting, and due to the nature of Stiles’ detainment here, he was allowed to help with the investigation and rescue of the lost coyote girl.

(Eichen house is one of the relevant changes. As a facility for the supernatural to go if they are a danger to others, or for the possessed, or for the simply mentally ill, it has higher regulations than a lot of the other places in the world. In this universe, it’s actually quite nice.

Nobody has tried to commit suicide in the asylum and succeded – there is always that caveat you gloss over in the fine text, after all - since it opened. A record, considering it’s canon counterpart.)

Malia stares at him, and Stiles winces, scratches at his side.

“I’m Stiles. A friend of Scott’s…” He offers, hesitant. He’s never met Malia before; he didn’t promise to help and then abandon that promise.

Malia doesn’t punch him. She stares, quietly, then slides into the seat across from him.

“You know each other?”

“Not now, Oliver,” Stiles says, and Oliver quietens. He’s a nice enough guy, Stiles supposes, but he’s more dangerous than he seems.

“You know Scott?” Malia asks, simple.

Stiles nods. “He’s my best friend,” Stiles tells her, response automatic.

“He gave me a shirt.” Malia says. “I’ve still got it. I’ll give it to you once we’re out.”

Stiles blinks at her.

“It’s yours.” Malia says. “It smells like you.”

“Oh.” Stiles nods. “Okay, then. Sure.” He says.

Malia offers a smile. A small one; closed lipped and more of a quirk upwards, but it’s pretty all the same. Stiles smiles back, sort of.

His side is still bothering him, but Stiles ignores it.

(It’s probably nothing.)

(Obviously, it’s not nothing.)

Stiles has a session with Morrell that evening. Not for her French teacher side, or her psychiatrist side (though she can’t help but have that side show up in all aspects of her life, of course) but for her druidic one.

The one that was trained in how to deal with nogitsunes.

“Have you ever meditated before?” Morrell asks.

Stiles almost laughs. “ADHD, remember?” Stiles asks, rhetorically.

“You can still try,” Morrell says. “Because you need to. It’s either that or another ice bath.” She adds, pointedly.

“I think I’d prefer the ice bath,” Stiles grumbles, but he sighs and nods, acquiesces.  

“Copy me.” Morrell instructs, and sits across from him, cross-legged.

Stiles mimics her position.

“Take deep breaths,” Morrell says. “In for four, out for seven.”

Stiles does as she says.

“Close your eyes,” Morrell advises, and Stiles does so, because he wants to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.

This is nothing he hasn’t done before, with various other psychiatrists. Clinically diagnosed anxiety usually means they’ll try and find calming techniques – Stiles never really did well with the ones that required he just sit there, because those let him think.

“Visualise an empty room. It stretches on for miles, and it’s a blank, white canvas…” Morrell says, voice smooth, and Stiles lets it wash over him as he does so – and if there’s one thing Stiles is good at, it’s imagining things that aren’t real.

Stiles can’t exactly visualise nothingness, though. He uses the ice bath induced shared headspace as a template, and works from there.

“Now visualise it building up,” Morrell says, “Let it build itself. What kind of room do you see?”

Stiles still sees the blank shared headspace, but he simply lets his mind wander, for a moment. The room shrinks; the walls close in and the ceiling lowers.

“My bedroom,” Stiles says. “There are cork boards everywhere. String connecting blurred pictures, a couch where my bed should be.”

“Good.” Morrell says. “Now… sleep.”

She doesn’t say sleep, of course. But that’s what Stiles hears, and that’s what he does.

Morrell lowers the teen onto the floor and tidies up her supplies, then returns to her desk.

“Enter,” She calls, and Malia comes in, shuts the door behind herself.

“Good,” Morrell nods. “You remember basic manners.”

Malia scoffs and sits down, frowns petulantly across at Morrell.

“Have you had any troubles with shifting recently? Morrell asks, straight to the point.

Malia seems distracted, head tilted as she quite obviously sniffs the air.

“Stiles is here,” She says. “Or was here.” Malia glances around the room, and narrows her eyes, sniffs the air once more.

“Why is he behind your desk?” Malia asks, unconcerned for the most part, but there is a line between her brows one might call worry if they were feeling generous.

“Meditating,” Morrell says. “Now, back to you. Have you had trouble shifting?” Morrell repeats, and Malia seems mollified as she relaxes back into her seat, and shrugs. “I can’t,” Malia says, and Morrell leans forwards; concerned, intrigued. “I see,” Morrell murmurs.

“Well,” Morrell nods. “Hold out your hand,” She instructs, and Malia does so, if reluctantly.

“As a werecoyote, your fingernails should transform into claws at your command.” Morrell says. “Those who are more in control can even do individual nails. Or, of course, those who are more desperate.”

Malia nods. “So what do I do?” She asks, eager to learn. This Malia is no less eager to return to her coyote form than the one from before – This Malia knows her birth mother was an assassin and is dead and that her birth father had no idea she existed because her biological aunt removed all memories of her from him, and that doesn’t exactly warm her to humanity.

But her bio dad promised to visit, and to introduce her to her cousins, and Talia has been instructed to stay the hell away from my family because even in this world, Peter and Talia do not get along. So Malia has something to hold onto, at least, and it’s healthier than a hook-up in the basement of a mental institution.

(Not that that isn’t going to happen. But that that will be much healthier than it was in canon.)

“Concentrate,” Morrell instructs. “Focus on turning your fingernails into claws.”

Malia tries, and she tries really hard, but nothing happens.

“We’ll try again tomorrow.” Morrell nods, and Malia takes that as her cue to leave, but she hesitates.

“Is he okay?” Malia asks, and it’s slightly awkward but Morrell mentally smiles because it means the girl didn’t loose her ability to feel concern for other people during her time with the brain of a coyote.

“He will be,” Morrell tells her, because that is true.

Malia takes this answer and nods, then is gone through the door before anything else can be said.

Morrell turns back to Stiles, and waits.

Stiles is in this facsimile of his bedroom, with it’s odd couch and blurry photographs, and he’s siting there, staring at the door.

The door that’s ajar. Open.

He needs to close it, but he can’t close it with the Nogitsune in here. He needs to kick the nogitsune out the door, and then lock it. Lock it tight, so nothing else can ever get in here ever again.

He doesn’t want to hurt his friends.

Stiles stands and looks around the room, drags his fingers along the red string as he walks towards the cork board on the left.

He’s got to start somewhere, after all.

It doesn’t take too long to find a discrepancy.

Stiles finds a yearbook; in it, there are photos of people he knows, with their names and a quote that sounds like Stiles’ thoughts about them written underneath.

‘punchable-y pretty’ Is under a few people, and Stiles rolls his eyes at himself.

Stiles finds the discrepancy on the fourth-to-last page. He would have missed it if he’d have flicked over a page further than he had.

Stiles resolves to not flick through books after this. You might miss something important.

Stiles picks at the corner of a photo of a person he doesn’t recognise.

Corporal Rhys.

A dead man tells no tales.

Literally what the shit? Stiles frowns, and peels off the photo, then nearly drops the book.

Stiles does drop the book when he realises the fly isn’t a picture, but he grabs the creature before it can move, squeezes it hard in his palm.

The nogitsune is a fly. Small, unassuming. Something ignorable.

Stiles has decided he despises flies. Fuck ‘em.

Stiles pointedly ignores the struggles of the fly in his palm – he simply crushes it harder and stomps over to the door, then shoves it through and slams it shut, pulls the deadbolt across and locks it, then steps back.

Stiles nods, returns to the couch, and lies down.

Job done.

It took a long time for that technique for nogitsune removal to be discovered. It’s not the be all and end all; there are some side effects. After all, the nogitsune was just ripped out, but the stuff it altered still remains, there’s just no evil fly there to hold the reigns.

Still. Stiles wouldn’t find that out for a long time – perhaps never, if he were so lucky as to never kill anyone.

(In this world, that happens more often than people like to admit.)

Stiles sits up, groggy and tired, and heavy-feeling.

“I take it the nogitsune is gone?” Morrell asks, and Stiles nods, hesitant but hopeful, in a way he hasn’t been for a while.

It took a long time for the hunters to realise Gerard was rogue, and that he’d converted a lot of their better agents, like Kate and Victoria. Even Allison, for a short time, but she was young, and forgivable. After all, he’d manipulated her via the use of her mother’s death, and she wasn’t technically a hunter yet. You couldn’t exactly put all the blame on her shoulders for that.

Kate and Victoria are dead. That’s usually what happens when you work with the kind of person Gerard is.

Funny, that the bite he wanted ultimately killed him, but not before he could kill his accomplices.

(Still. Stiles isn’t exactly complaining, as bad as it sounds. He knows what it’s like to loose your mother, after all, so maybe he should be more sympathetic, but it’s a little difficult when she looked the other way while her husband’s father was beating you up and torturing your friends with electricity. Even helped, to an extent.)

“Then we’re done here.” Morrell says. “You are still booked in here for at least another week, however.”

“Why?” Stiles asks. “Because that’s when the amount of time you’ve paid for runs out.” Morrell says.

“Oh.” Stiles nods. “… I guess we don’t get a refund for the days we don’t use, huh?”

“No.” Morrell says, flatly. “Also,” She adds, and takes some bottles from her drawer. “Your prescripton.”

Stiles nods in thanks, grateful, and takes the bottles. “Make sure you take the correct amount,” Morrell warns. “No more, no less.”

Stiles nods, knowing full well that once he’s out of here he’s not going to have the luxury of doing that so he’s gonna simply take what he can get, and goes to leave the room.

“Be careful,” Morrell says. “And make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

Stiles doesn’t bother replying, he simply leaves the room.

“Why are you still here, then?” Malia asks, the next morning.

“What?” Stiles blinks, says through a mouthful of food, then hastily swallows. “What?” He repeats, clearer.

“Why are you still here, since Morrell said you’re clear,” Malia repeats, states.

“Oh,” Stiles shrugs. “Well, for one the money we payed for this isn’t going to magically reappear, so I might as well stay for the rest of the time, you know, just in case,” Stiles tells her.

Malia nods and resumes eating her food, a slight wrinkle to her nose showing her distaste for it.

“Don’t like the food?” Stiles asks.

“I miss deer,” Malia says, glumly, through her mush. Stiles isn’t exactly sure what the food is, but it’s about as good as the food in the canteen, which is to say it’s fucking shit.

“Venison,” Stiles says, absently.

“What now?” Malia asks, and stiles shrugs. “The meat you get from deer. Venison.”

“Oh.” Malia blinks. “Well, I miss that, then.”

Stiles nods, and the two continue eating in what is a surprisingly comfortable slience, considering their lack of familiarity with one another and the place they’re in.

Well. To be fair, Stiles has been here for at least a week or so. Malia’s only been here for a couple days.

That night, Stiles finds Malia in the boys’ shower room.

“Uhm.” Stiles says, then turns around. Oh, but there’s mirrors. He turns, and faces the door, and definitely doesn’t look at her in his peripheral vision.

There are some words on her shoulder blade, but there’s too much steam. Really, Stiles can’t see anything.

“Stiles I – don’t care,” Malia says, as if she can’t see why he would think she would, or why he might think she should.

“Oh?” Stiles asks, unsure of what to say.

“There aren’t boys and girls’ rooms in the woods,” Malia says, and Stiles knows that, obviously.

“Well, why are you in here, anyway?” Stiles asks. “Why not the girls’ room?”

“Because it’s cold in there.” Malia says. “And it’s hot in here.”

“I think the steam makes that obvious,” Stiles says, and he can’t see it, but Malia smiles.

“Yeah,” She says. Stiles winces.

“So, uh –” Stiles starts, but he doesn’t finish, as Malia chooses then to finish showering and simply walk out into the main area, blasé as you please, completely and utterly naked.

“Uh.” Stiles says, scratches the side of his head.

“Now you’re staring,” Malia points out – almost teasingly, but it’s a little too matter-of-fact for that.

“No,” Stiles denies, looks away.

“Look,” Malia says. “We’re both in a place we don’t actually need to be right now, and I’m bored.” She shrugs.

“… The basement’s off limits?” Stiles offers, and Malia smiles.

second part gonna be over on my AO3 once I’ve done it! 

[apocvlypsed]

( snoop dogg vc ) greetings loved ones, let’s take a journey! 

it’s linc comin’ atchu with my third, the one & only, the precious, the marshmellow cute fellow, casey bouchard !  below you shall find a brief backstory, an array of headcanons, & some general suggestions for all ur plotting needs .

tyler young — oh, have you met casey bouchard? he is a nineteen year old cis male that is feeling apprehensive about the planet’s imminent doom. a film student, this virgo is known around town as the raconteur, because he is introspective & altruistic, as well as escapist & frangible. hopefully, case will survive.

overview/backstory blurb thing :

he’s the son of hawley’s mayor, it’s casual?? he’s v supportive of both his mothers, but like... also really doesn’t enjoy small town living? he’s a city boi so... having his mother literally up and move them to this middle-of-nowhere place in pennsylvania for love... he supported it out of necessity but? would much rather be back in nyc with his boyz?

ya boy’s originally from brooklyn, nyc born and raised! his father was kinda... never in the picture? ( translation: as soon as raising an infant got difficult, he peaced tf out and refuses to pay child support. mainly bc like... he disappeared. yup. nice guy. )  anyway! in response to this, his mother joined an online support group for single mothers -- just a chatroom where they could all kind of talk and relate to one another about the aches & pains of raising children on their own? well. on this forum, sharon friedman happened to receive a direct message from anna bouchard, and so it all began...

after years of talking with anna on the phone and over skype, casey was finally like, “ma, you gotta just meet her.” so when he was 15, he practically forced his mom to rent a car and they made a road trip out to hawley, pa to meet this woman that had so clearly captured his mother’s heart. he was like: yes ok, good !!  good! because casey believes in love and fate and red strings. what he wasn’t really counting on was... staying... in hawley... sharon couldn’t bring herself to leave hawley after their visit. casey couldn’t bring himself to deny his mother a chance at love and happiness after being so alone. who was he to say no to that? so he wasn’t the asshole he could have been -- he could have thrown a fit about their home, his school, his bae, his life back in nyc. but instead, he suggested that they move there, filled out the transfer papers for hawley high himself. and so he entered a new world as a sophomore, completely and utterly overwhelmed by the newfound quiet, slowness. he dealt. joined the photography club, became chief photographer and editor for the yearbook. to everyone else, he was thriving. and like... yes ok, maybe he was, but there was this part of him that still... longed for new york. the place that held his heart.

in his junior year of high school, anna announced her campaign for mayor !!  so naturally, casey was RIGHT THERE supporting the love of his mother’s life. printing flyers, handing out cute buttons and cupcakes at school. bc he loves his mother and his mother loves anna, so it just... made sense. but he... at this point he really missed the city; he was looking at nyu and columbia as options for post-secondary school. that is, until anna won the election and moved on from board of education to freakin’ mayor !

but what no one told him was how being the mayor’s son would affect him. when anna and his mother married, he kindly chose to keep his mother’s surname, friedman. but with a mayor in the family? it would seem suspicious to have a child with a mismatched surname. anna’s pr people basically coerced him into taking on her surname, bouchard. and y’know, it was the right thing to do. but it felt a lot like a sell-out.

being the mayor’s son also meant being in photos instead of taking them. which was..... not his forte? still isn’t. he’ll go through it for his mom, but casey thrives behind the scenes. he enjoys letting other people shine, paying witness to that.

he’s a film student now! studying in hawley because.... he couldn’t bring himself to abandon his mother, or to even approach her with pamphlets of city schools. she was so happy here, and he knew that giving her a reason to think he wasn’t... it would make her feel guilty. so ( another sell-out! ) he agreed to go to community college here. in his free time, he makes short films much like what mikey murphy makes on youtube . they’re never longer than 10 minutes -- they don’t have to be. they’re poignant. true. he’s got a way with the camera, a way with voiceovers and words and angles. all the fluff and frills aren’t necessary.

alright so... here’s the kicker. casey is a truthful person. he wears his heart on his sleeve. but lately he’s been made aware of some... i n f o r m a t i o n ... that could ruin the entire town and their relationship to their mayor, and his family. here’s the rundown:

he’s not a snoop. nope. but being the son of the mayor’s wife the mayor’s son involves helping out every so often. fielding, phone calls, organizing files, pr meetings... deleting emails.

so he stumbled upon an email thread detailing arrangements and transfers of large funds. for a bunker. for food. blankets. supplies. underground. using taxpayer money.

in a panic, he forwarded the emails to his personal email before deleting them off of anna’s computer.

why did he save them? why... why does he need them? because... they’re safe with him? or maybe they’re collateral? not that he.... he doesn’t need collateral, right? because the bunker helps him. ensures his survival, too. but here he is... carrying around this lethal information, not knowing what to do about it. wanting to tell those he’s close to, but he can’t because his mother loves anna and if he hurts anna, he hurts her, and himself. it’s... a predicament.

an array of headcanons! :

raisinets are casey’s weakness. if you wanna win him over, grab him a box. he will fall in love.

demisexual as fuck !!!  not the hookup type, but... let’s just say, it has happened before. takes a lot of alcohol. but he’s been there.

he adores old films. he SPRINTS to the little local theater when they have special features of anything vintage and cheesy. or even films like “back to the future” or “breakfast at tiffany’s”. he buys like 12 boxes of candy every time because he’s hella indecisive, swears he’ll decide when he sits down and then just... makes no decision and eats all of them. he unironically replaces his soda straw with a twizzler because.... it just Makes Sense, ok?

he’s got this wide-eyed attitude about the world. no way, you found half-priced avocados at rite aid? just... genuinely in this world because he adores it. the little things give him this breathless sense of joy. “i found a penny in the parking lot today!” he’ll chirp with pride to a room full of other film students that don’t give a shit. because... the unexpected tiny treasures are what make hawley worth staying. if he didn’t have those, he would have run back to nyc years ago.

casey wants so badly to believe there’s something greater about life. that it’s not some fragile wilting leaf to be tossed to the wind. he wants to fight for something and his way of doing that is easy smiles and a soft gaze.

he smells like cinnamon spice, vanilla, with subtle hints of amber, musk, and cedar. just like... how you might imagine a cool autumn day, with a gentle breeze. that’s really his disposition, too. that soft gust of wind that caresses your skin, ruffles your hair, makes you close your eyes and breathe in deeper.

he has a brooklyn accent and idk that’s just really important to me.

“one day” by kodaline is a Mood.

his personality/presence is a lot like “my favourite story” by jack in water? just... so lovely and quiet and soft.

he listens to vinyl bc his moms got him a player for hanukkah one year (lol they’re kinda in a great financial situation now that anna’s providing). so he’ll just lie down and stare at the ceiling and listen to the temptations and the beatles and belle & sebastien, lightly tapping his toes together, circling his feet. the simple things.

he gets quiet when he gets angry. as in, if you yell at him, he will lower his voice to a whisper so you have no choice but to lower yours and listen. he learned that from his mother and the countless arguments she got in with their landlord in brooklyn. it’s kind of a power move.

really allergic to cats and dogs! he gets the sniffles! but does he still always say hi and seek them out?? yes!!

he kind of... he kind of wants to make a film to put in the time capsule. he’s working on it, slowly. a film of hawley. of life before the asteroid. he’s absolutely the type to break out his camera or phone and film his friends without asking. highly sentimental. all the zooms, all the laughs and smiles and eye rolls before they inevitably cover the lens with their hands. he finds beauty in everything. or, rather, everything has the capacity to be beautiful, with some investment in time/angles. he films all those tiny moments, those pointless little dinner dates or hikes in the woods because... if he films his friends, if he films these moments... then they’ll never really die. they’ll exist on an sd card, or icloud, or... somewhere. and then his friends won’t die. his family won’t die. they’ll be there, immortalized on film. so film is... his craft. his passion. but also his way of avoiding the future, evading the bleak limitations of human existence. it’s his way of grappling with the asteroid, denying that big rock any of its power. because casey... he’s got a camera and he’s got time, and no boulder careening toward the planet can rip that away from him. ( it’s flawed logic. he knows. but it’s something. )

connection ideas :

step-brother/sister: they’re anna (the mayor)’s biological child. and i will probably send a wc in for this eventually, but basically they’re the second half of the reason why anna and sharon even met. i imagine things are kinda... interesting... between them and casey? being thrust into a new family, and now a family in the limelight... it’s complicated. they’re probably like, 20-24, a bit older.

friends: people from high school, people from college, etc. casey loves them dearly.

art squad: alright he... just really needs people to cry over great films with, honestly.

love interest: uhm he is so gentle and just... think about the gentle hand touches and linking of pinkies as they stand in the snack line at the theater and just... making fools of themselves ice skating & doing dumb shit? pls?

someone he wrongfully trusted:  aight... this is some angst, y’all. someone who literally crushed him, or... spread a rumor, or something. just completely violated his trust. because casey does not know how to deal with that shit. he’s the type to smile sadly and talk to them, ignoring how his eyes are misting over a bit. “hey, how are you? oh yeah, i’m... good. good, really. you mentioned a while ago you were gonna be doing ___, how’s that?” and he’ll... keep himself in that conversation for as long as they’ll talk. because like... if he angles his perspective just right, he can almost blur out the tension and pretend it’s back to how things used to be.

brotp: okay i need it. taking polaroids and penning dates on them, getting giggly drunk on champagne and watching cheesy rom-coms. just... being dorks. pls & thanks

pictures of you: hear me out. someone who’s been in the background of his life. appears in photos for the hs yearbook, maybe shows up in his films he shoots around town. they’ve never really spoken but casey wants to. it’s just... the whole... introductions thing. “hey, you’re in a lot of my art! accidentally! what’s up?” doesn’t really fly.

people from nyc: idk if your muse was ever in nyc for an extended period of time let’s just.. let’s discuss ;)

neighbor(s): so since the bouchards are quite well off, casey’s got his own ~ luxury apartment ~ to himself, oo la la. but i imagine it’s part of a larger apartment complex, etc.

grocery store buds: “hello, how are you, wanna try to find ripe avocados with me?” becomes a saturday routine. they wait for their deli meat together too. so cute. #truelove. ya never know.

exes: i imagine casey wouldn’t have many of these, since he does have this really romanticized idea of love and carries with him high, virgo standards. but... these would’ve been special connections. and he probably mourns them a lot.

literally anything ever i love plots and we know this

[mikenips]

Together Now

Fuck.  People better start showin’ up soon.  Ate the tab too early.  Already did my Johnny Thunders makeup.  Shirt with a missing sleeve Dylan tore off.  And the classic shredded denims around my waist.  Even wore a dog collar this time.  Jake better have been serious about gettin’ people to dress up.  Hope he was able to find one of those oversized greeting cards.  Went to three places and couldn’t find one for Brendan.  Even rearended someone in the process.  Some Vietnam vet that didn’t even bother to take the cig outta his mouth while gettin’ my info.  That’s what I need to calm these nerves.  A cig.  Bought a second pouch in case I start chiefin’ ‘em.  That’s how the acid goes.

Take a shot of etizolam.  Half dose.  Don’t wanna kill the trip.  But definitely need to slow it down.  Would’ve been fine if I had waited another hour.  But wanted to peak during Brendan’s last Toeheads set before dippin’ for the Navy in Rhode Island.

Blink and the living room is startin’ to fill with bodies.  Jake’s orange wool hat clashin’ with his costume.  “Brendan isn’t here yet is he?”

“Nah.”

“Cool.  Pass around this poster board.  Have everyone sign a goodbye card for him.  Couldn’t find a real card.  So we’ll fold it in half.  You got any good photos of him?”

Tear the one off the wall.  Stimmed out in the cig room at the end of Summerfest.  Tape it to the center.  Not a bad turn out so far.  For a show thrown together in a couple days.  Luckily Wednesday is my off day at work.  Devil’s Night.  Fifteen minutes after start time.  Hour after load in was supposed to be.  Jake never did clarify what time music was gonna start.  Just asked to use Belmont for the occasion.

“We’re on first right?”  Chuck says from the front door behind me.

“Yeah.  Go ahead up and you can start settin’ up.”

Jake hides the card in the coves upstairs where 208’s gear is already tucked away.  KQ adjusts Jordan’s kit.  While Owen and Ben plug in amps.  Chuck sets a pumpkin on the ground.  “PHARMA” scrawled over the front in Sharpie.  A large pill bottle with the label torn off next to it.  They dip for the front porch for a preshow cig.  Cig room already hotboxed by Dee and everyone at Ham House.  They do this shit everytime.  Just need to step in for a minute.  And the second hand smoke smothers the urge for the cig you just rolled up.

Dylan is on the front porch with a sheet over his head.  Makin’ everyone guess who the ghost is.  Drew and Tina drinkin’ Buzzballs in the kitchen.  X’s on their foreheads.  “They taste like a flat Four Loko.  Not good.  But named appropriately.”  Pop the empties on the shelf in the kitchen with the memorabilia from after parties and other sets here.  Glad people actually wore their costumes.

Everybody’s here and the benzos are makin’ the night extra surreal.  Like this night is somethin’ from a dream we all avoided sleepin’ through.  The King of the Scene arrives.  Different pair than his normal octagon sunglasses over his eyes.  Stroh’s already cracked as he walks in.  Peter’s upstairs testin’ the projector setup.  His hazy visuals on the ceiling and the Peanuts sheets on my mattress propped against the wall.  Time to uncork the liter and a half wine bottle.

The feedback whistles from Owen’s cranked amp upstairs.  Whistlin’ everyone into the dark bedroom.  The neighbors only complain about the noise when the hardcore bands play.  So tonight might not be their favorite show.  But after this Belmont is closin’ for the season.  Gotta clean the bathtub for my landlord’s property inspection next month.  Can’t believe I’ve been here for two years now.  And averaged a show a month this past year.  Couldn’t pick a better closin’ ceremony the King’s departure.

The crowd stands anxiously against the wall as Pharma plows through their first song.  Chuck pacin’ around the room with mic in hand.  Scoops the pumpkin from the ground as KQ beats the sticks together.  One two three.  And on the fourth the orange splinters on the blue carpet.  Tyriq shoves Joey mid kick as Chuck’s screams clip the speaker.  Everyone’s flesh collides.  Oozes against each other before slidin’ off the sweat.  No amount of AC or open windows able to stop the humidity of body friction.  Bones crack and disintegrate to the marrow of our lives.  Rail the line and jump in.  Bottle in hand.  Joey’s skull makin’ contact with the base.  Spewin’ a geyser onto the wall from the palm of my hand.

The red wine paints streaks on the white drywall that still stands defiantly against our chaos.  Drops run down at a fraction the speed of Owen’s blurred hand makin’ the strings wail.  And in ten minutes, the masochistic treatment of our eardrums unfortunately ends.  Light flicks on.  Showin’ a mess of pumpkin guts.  Seeds.  And capsules of an unknown drug woven into the carpet by our feet.  When did that shit burst?  “Nips, you want me to clean this up at the end of the night?”  Chuck pants.  Red in the face.

“Nah man.  It really ties the bedroom together.”

He smiles as Kyle drags his amp from the cove for their set.  Shelby adjusting the kit.  Walks away as Jake towers into the room.  Emptyin’ a Stroh’s into himself.  “Thanks for askin’ us to play Jake.  Super stoked to get to play a show with Toeheads.”

“Man.  Thanks for comin’ here from Florida.”

“Well thanks for acceptin’ us into this.  We didn’t know anybody here when we moved out here.  But you all made us feel so welcomed into this family.”

Gotta get a cig in before this set.  Once 208 starts you’re gribbed in.  As tight as the stranglehold Kyle has on the neck of his guitar.  The reverb slaps back with the thud of Shelby’s drums.  Bouncin’ you from wall to wall.  Body to body.  Drowns out the thoughts reverberatin’ off the walls of your skull.

He’s gotta have the shoes off every show.  Release the hounds!  Let the brutalization of instruments begin.  The things we do for tone.  He mumbles almost incoherently into the mic behind shags of hair.  “This next one’s ‘Hotel California.’”  Shelby’s tom thumps in the background as Peter’s lights pulse on the walls.  Kyle droppin’ to the floor.  Body twitchin’ with each crunch of distortion he bends outta the amp.  Until it gives out.  Forcing a finale from the duo.

“I forgot the tambourine!”  Drew yells to Joey.

“Fuck.  Should we run down the street to grab it.”

“I got bongos.”  Pass ‘em to Drew while the three Toeheads debate their setlist.  Gonna play the full EP that drops at midnight.  Cassettes from Remove Records comin’ soon.

Grab a beer from the fridge.  Drew standin’ in the kitchen.  Joint tucked between lips.  Greasy hair falls on the shoulders of his bright shirt.  Tappin’ the bongos surrounded by women with X’s on their foreheads.  “That’s gotta be the most cult leader lookin’ thing I’ve seen in my life.”  Joey passes by.  Tosses a beer can in the sink.  And grabs a plate to set upstairs.

The ceiling and wall covered in shots of the trio performing on the front porch.  The same front porch I first spotted Brendan and Jake from at the first show I threw a year ago.  Just two goons sittin’ in a red Dodge.  Drinkin’ Labatt.  Heavy.  And the one hidin’ behind octagon shades tells me about this tape label he started.  Remove Records.  “King of the Scene!”  Drew yells perched on the head on top of Joey’s 8x10.  Jake cuts his goodbye speech off early.  Don’t wanna get too heavy before the heavy music.

The chords crunch under his fingertips.  The brass crashes under Brendan’s sticks.  Joey gettin’ some futuristic fuzz from the bass.  This is the future of garage.  Happenin’ right before my dilated pupils.  The noise ceases as Jake’s mumbled first line grows into a scream.  Then pounds faster.  Harder.  Sloppier.  How can Peter’s camera even handle this noise?  “With a knife!”

Standin’ by the stairs the group begins a cover of “Anna (Go to Him.)”  The crowd dances with each other.  Belts the chorus in unison as the peak takes my brain into this dream.  Everybody gathered in this sweaty bedroom.  Vibin’ together.  What more could you dream of?  One last night for all of us to be together.  Together right here.  Right now.  Hidin’ the makeup streakin’ under my eyes in the cig room from Rae and Kyle from the Waterheads.

The group ends the onslaught of feedback.  Screeches.  Of both instruments and vocal cords.  Reverb.  Thuds and crashes.  Hi-hats through the wall.  And every jarring sound your ears dream of bein’ berated by.  Joey trades the bass for a second guitar.  Yells for a pick.  While Jake begs for some noise to stop him from continuin’ a corny speech.  It is Devil’s Night after all.  Brendan trades his sunglasses for the pair of octagons in his leather jacket while takin’ a bow.

“Burn down Midtown!”  From Drew.

“Has anyone seen my wallet?!”  From Dee.

“It’s not fuckin’ workin’!”  From Joey who can’t rail a line through the humidity.  Gives it up before his ode to DMT and a rambunctious cover of “Blew My Mind” to close the set.

“Don’t we have a bunch more?”  Joey yells across the room.

“Well some of us working class folk have a job to go to in the morning.”  Evan jokes.

“Alright.  We’ll do an encore for Brendan’s last ride.”  Jake plugs back in.  Drew stands in the center of the room.  Pulls back up the bongos in sweaty, red hands.  “This one’s called ‘Demon House.’

“I’ve been livin’ in a demon house!”  None of the notes are distinguishable in the final barrage of sound.  But the bodies crash into each other.  For one last connection to the King that gave everybody somethin’ to show their parents.  I can still hear him behind the bottle of Stroh’s at Painted Lady before we bootlegged the Milk Bath gig at Outer Limits.  “Just somethin’ to say ‘you guys might not be into this.  But somebody out there thinks it means somethin’.’”

As the party filters out, Jordan video calls me on Snapchat to say goodbye to Brendan before he sets sail.  Says the broken hi-hat stand was the least he could offer in return to the King of the Scene.  Joey spills the bottle of wine next to me.  Looks up from rollin’ around on the floor.  “That’s the difference between me and Jay Retard.  I know when not to break shit.”  The words fill the holes the acid burns into my brain as he dips to prep Ham House for the after party.  Leavin’ his shoes behind.  The picture of me and him in his underwear will surface in a few days but doesn’t help fill the gaps in the night.

Sittin’ next to me, Brendan dents a Stroh’s can in his hand.  Hood over his head.  But no octagons to hide the tears in his eyes.  “It’s just…  For the first time…  I feel like I finally got a family.  And now that I have that feeling.  I gotta leave my home behind.  Over a mistake I enlisted in months ago.”  He sniffles and kills the can.  Somethin’ about the way that last drop of beer hits makes you puke it all up.  “And I don’t know how long until I’ll be able to get back to that feeling.”

“But that’s the beauty of it.”  Take a swig from the remains of the wine bottle.  “No matter what happens now.  You got the security of family.  We’re all still gonna be here.  And whenever you get back, the empty space you left will still be here for you.  Ya know now no matter what you always got a family somewhere.  Forever.  Maybe the scene ends.  Maybe Joey moves somewhere like New Mexico or some shit.  Maybe I finally clean the bathtub like my landlord and Jake keep askin’.  But no matter where any of us are or what’s different.  You’ll always be able to show up and have people and a place where you belong.  No matter where we are we’re all together now.”

One by one people nod to sleep at Ham House.  People find their way back to their beds.  And don’t have to dream about a home.  Cause they got a place to be free.  Like Manson sang about.  Brendan hugs me goodbye.  And I find my way to the after hours where my friend Josh asks sincerely if I’m doin’ alright tonight.  Cause he knows it’s not just the acid and benzos makin’ everything feel surreal.  But at least when I get home.  There’s a pair of octagon glasses in the explosion of pumpkin seeds and prescription strength anti-inflammatories.  I’ll end up losing ‘em in a few months.  Life’s cruel that way.  Even all the shit that means somethin’ to us will pass.  But at least we got it together now.