#i know i haven’t even posted DaD content in like months

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

Down Bad — Spencer Reid x Fem Reader (Smut 18+)

Summary: After seeing that her ex boyfriend is engaged to his “rebound girl”, Reader finds herself missing the comforts and pleasures of sex.

Notes: ahh!! @reidsbookclub thank you my absolute love for reading this ahead of time. your enthusiasm and support and love is so so so appreciated <3 and this is my piece for @imagining-in-the-margins Friends with Benefits challenge

Word Count: 6 K

Content Warnings: Alcohol consumption (not drunk), oral sex (female receiving), p in v sex, (kinda) dom Spencer ( hopeful ending?), unprotected sex, some negative self body image (reader), finishing inside with birth control, breeding kink, possessive language, dirty talk/crude language (I know Spencer's probably a tab bit OOC but this is me trying here)

Down Bad

There was no way for my situation to turn crappier. My finger stood, haunted and frozen above my phone screen. The bathroom sink ran unattended as I attempted to defrost my heart. It had dropped to my stomach as my eyebrows shot up.

I still followed Lydia, my ex's younger sister on Instagram and Facebook. Her brother might have turned out to be a terrible communicator, but she was cool.

Just a couple of months ago, she was a student in Geology and the last time we spoke she was writing a paper on Ancient Rocks in communities that used aqueducts systems. What you could do with a Master's in Geology was beyond me and my office job. I'm sure she hears too many "you must live under a rock" joke from her dad. He was always cracking the most dad jokes that have ever dad-joked; I missed it. And Lori's South Chocolate Gravy Pie. I didn't even want to know how many sticks of butter it took.

Lydia had her arms thrown around a tall, leggy, blonde girl that looked like her name was Sarah or Hannah. The post was in black and white and Hannah/Sarah showed off her gorgeous ring.

lydia-nielson99 The best honorary sister ever <3!

When my ex and I dated, the idea of fine dining was a night out at a movie sharing a bucket of popcorn and an honest-to-God-attempt at moving hopping. We talked about marriage; he'd slip on fake rings made from grass blades braided together meticulously on my finger, kiss it, and promise me that he'd earn me something worthy of my finger.

The post had only been up for 43 minutes and already had gotten a hundred or so likes. I scrolled the comment section, ignoring the rushing tap, to read the comments from my friends, our couple friends. They must've liked Sarah/Hannah better, or at least liked her and Shane better together then Shane and me. I haven’t heard from them since the breakup.

Aren't most geologists analog? I slipped my phone back into my pocket and washed my hands, wishing that I could crawl under a rock, one of those ancient ones that Lydia studies.

I couldn't decide. I couldn't decide between a red that would give me a headache I could feel in my teeth or straight gasoline that would make my face, and heart, as equally numb.

I wanted something quick and something strong. I was so, so, so over Shane it wasn't even funny. But that didn't stop him from being the love of my life, to the loss of my life. I just wondered, as I roamed the supermarket with my metal carriage holding tequila, limes, Kraft Mac and Cheese, and frozen pizza bagels, if he told Hannah/Sarah the same things.

If he would sit across from her, now probably able to splurge on a dinner fancier than Taco Bell or Denny's, and hold her hands. Would he move her ring from her middle finger to her ring finger like he did on mine?

God, I cringed, dropping in a box of Double Stuffed Oreos, I let him, shit talk me under tables with promises of rings and cradles in the other breath.

I reached for the pint of strawberry as another text pinged. Internally I knew that I would soon face an onslaught of future wine moms just jumping at the chance to "check in with me" during "such a challenging and emotional time" for me. I ignored the message, but it pinged again.

Spencer: Penelope said that the new season of that show you like is on. We can watch it tonight. I think that Hotch is actually gonna let us out at a normal time.

Spencer, my roommate, always texted with formality and correct grammar. I actually think that it would be impossible for him to do anything, but use proper spelling and grammar.

Unlike certain geologists, Spencer is actually analog. When I was searching for a roommate after my break-up, our mutual friend Penelope put us in touch. And just mere months later we've formed a friendship that most days is closer to a partnership than it is to anything else. Friends were hard for me, and relationships even harder. Looking back, I think that allowed Shane to bulldoze through boundaries I didn't even know I should have.

Spencer, a certified genius and self-described technophobe, couldn't tell me the purpose of Instagram, let alone that my ex-boyfriend's sister posted a picture with her newest soon to be sister-in-law, Sarah/Hannah.

I dropped a pint of Rocky Road ice cream and looped around for an extra box of Kraft Mac and Cheese before replying back to Spencer.

Me: Worst. Day. Ever!!! Ice cream & carbs @ 7

I stared at the bottle of tequila, understanding that ever since my 31st birthday, me and excessive drinking due to external crises would result in bloating, headaches, backaches, anxiety, and an entire weekend of recovery. Maybe instead of several shots, but I already finished half of the bottle of red I bought as a bottom of the ninth decision.

"Tequila?" Spencer mused, dropping his bag on the table. "This must be like Defcon 4? And I should know, I work in national security."

I grunted, my fingers drumming against the table. The cheap speaker connected to my phone plays sad breakup music. I saw Spencer's wheels turn as he sat down with me at the table.

"Want boxed Mac & Cheese?" I asked, standing up to scoop some of the dinner into a plate for myself. I didn't seek it out often, but there was something familiar and comforting about Kraft Mac & Cheese. "I know it's got a lot of shitty stuff in it. But I'm actually going to lose my mind tonight."

My voice turned shrill and unsteady. And my eyes flooded with sharp, salty tears. Spencer stood and then backed away, his eyes and face melting in mutual pain. "What happened?"

"Shane's getting married."

"That explains the tequila."

I laughed. Spencer didn't offer any condolences as the seconds ticked and ticked. Instead he looked at me. He must've noticed the groceries. The Oreos, ice creams, and boxes of incredibly processed macaroni and cheese all screamed classic crisis for me. Being as smart as he is, Spencer could probably have told something about me within weeks of meeting me.

"Well, I already drank some of that red wine." I said. "The tequila doesn't sound like a good choice. But bad choices can be fun choices when you want to hide under a rock for the rest of your life."

Spencer still didn't offer anything, he kicked off his shoes and grabbed a bowl from the cabinet. "No tequila."

“You’re no fun." I huffed, grabbing my bowl and heading to the living room. "You promised me new episodes of The Queen's Court."

Spencer still frowned, his arms crossed as his steaming bowl of processed cheese pasta sat to his side on the counter. "I didn't think that Shane still was someone you thought about."

I sighed.

“It’s understandable. He’s marrying the girl he started dating right after breaking-up with you.”

I didn't think about Shane, not that often though. But he still was my first love. The love I shared with Shane was something he stole from me. I had given him all that youth for free; now I was thirty-one. Don't get me wrong, thirty-one is young, I don't feel old. But it's this weird, almost off-putting subliminal feeling when all of my friends either smell like weed or little babies.

"I don't love him. I don't want to be with him."

Spencer had rolled up his sleeves, revealing his forearms. He had a couple pictures of himself when he was younger. Him with his mom at one of his many post-graduate celebrations. One with his co-workers at a bar. He changed a lot; in pictures of the past he was thin and lanky. But now, when he would wear pants or cardigans or button downs with the sleeves rolled up, I found it difficult to not stare in appreciation. My sex life with Shane was good, consistent, and effective. While it might sound clinical to some, I think we both enjoyed knowing that we both knew how to, simply, get the job done for each other. I must be missing sex an awful lot to be getting flushed at the sight of Spencer’s arms.

Two years older than me, Spencer had had a life harder than most people. Penelope explained to me that he was finding it hard to live alone after he was falsely incarcerated. And working the hours he did at the BAU, he found it hard to find someone okay with someone coming home all hours of the night.

Like Spencer, I hated living alone. So together, we built a little home as roommates, as friends, and somewhere along the lines, as partners. And over the last couple of months, Spencer had never brought a date home. I had one hook up about two weeks after we moved in together. It was fine, but not enough to tempt back onto the horrid, vapid, devoid of anything promising landscape that was Bumble and Hinge.

"I just..." I bring my face into my hands in embarrassment. "I miss having someone to come home to who wants to see me."

Spencer crossed through the living room, bowl in hand. He sat criss cross on the floor like he did most nights. "I want to see you. I always want to see you, Y/N."

"You know what I mean, Spencer…And if I'm being honest...sex. God, I miss sex. Good, consistent, effective sex from someone that knows me."

Spencer and I never talked about sex. When we would watch movies that had sex scenes in it, neither of us would talk. One time we watched a movie starring whatever current Hollywood Pretty Boy had captured the hearts of the Internet at the time, and I commented that I would "ride that cowboy into the sunset." I remembered looking at Spencer for his reaction. Usually he would blush or roll his eyes or kick me playfully in the shin for being crass.

But that time he didn't. Instead, his jaw set, grinding firmly and unyieldingly. After that I didn't make sexy jokes or talk about sex in front of him. I thought it made him uncomfortable, till now I suppose

The music changed, and the breakup anthem of the century played. I stood up on the sofa, solo cup in hand and swayed to the music as Spencer stood below.

"You want sex?" Spencer asked. "We can have sex on this sofa right now if that's what you want. I mean, how much wine have you had?"

I busted out laughing, sipping the red wine from my solo cup. I didn't bother for a fancy wine glass. Besides, it was cheap and . And clearly it was working if it made me imagine Spencer Reid, my hot, stoic roommate with dreamy brown eyes, offering me sex.

"Spencer! Come, dance. Please!" His eyes shifted over my body. And he must have noticed the way my knees wobbled under the insecurity of the sofa cushions or the way my eyes must have been glazed and sparkly.

He obliged me, and his hand wrapped around mine. He raised my hand above my head to twirl me and then walked me down from the couch. "Let's get you on level ground. I hurt my leg a couple years after I started the BAU and it's no fun healing up."

He sat me down on the couch and placed a throw blanket on my lap. My bowl of Mac & Cheese was missing, but returned back to my lap, reheated. Spencer also replaced my solo cup, cutting me off, thankfully, from alcohol for the time.

"Peach flavored electrolyte water. And tomorrow I'll make you breakfast." He offered, sitting down on my right as he started the show.

"I didn't mean to be annoying and buzzed. I know you don’t like it" I said, not looking at Spencer. "I don't love him. Or like him. Or even want to be with him. Ugh. No, I just...I want…sex."

Spencer nodded, not even looking at me as the scene between the Queen and her lady's maid wore on. I kept trying to convince Spencer that the Queen was actually the villain and the warring clan would take over and let the series run on and on for an infinite amount of seasons. But it was campy and dramatic and exactly what I needed as I licked my, apparently, very open and painful wounds.

"What's the matter?" I asked, pausing the television. "You look pissed off."

"You know that he was the one that lost out when you guys broke up." Spencer's eyes didn't meet mine, even though the television remained paused. "He didn't deserve you. Not if he didn't know how goddamn lucky he was when he had you."

I don't let my heart think this means anything."What?" But I feel my cheeks prickle with

heat, just like they did when Spencer, albeit jokingly, offered to have sex with me.

"I said, it's his loss. If I had you, I wouldn't ever lose you, Y/N."

"I'm nothing special." I admit. I wasn't the most positive or confident girl, in my mid twenties I went to therapy for a good three years to sort out some baggage from my childhood. We all have something and mine was having a hard time seeing myself. I couldn't maintain positivity, to my brain it was better to remain neutral than to jam positivity down my throat that I couldn't honestly accept.

"You're not nothing special, Y/N." Spencer's voice cut through, sharp and confident. He sat up, his body sliding so close to mine that his knees touched my thighs. "You're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. And you're smart. And funny. You make me laugh like no one has during a time in my life when I was convinced no one would be able to."

Our apartment isn't big, but it's enough space for Spencer and I to feel like we're could interact when we wanted, which was most of the time. But there was enough space for us to find our alone time when needed.

As Spencer's knees rubbed against mine and his soft eyes met mine, the room seemed to collapse. It was as if all the air was sucked out.

“And I am so...I've never been happier to have you be the last person I see before I go to sleep and the first person I get to see when I wake up. And if I...and if I had that with you the way he did? I wouldn't have messed it up."

"Spencer…" He raised his hand, showing me his palm, a sign that I think signified he meant no harm, but as he words, heated and charged sliced through me, I could feel them ricochet upon impact.

"I know…But, when I said I would fuck you on this couch, Y/N, it wasn't an empty promise. I meant it. And it wouldn’t have to mean anything.”

Spencer shifted on the couch. It creaked with his weight. The bowl of Mac & Cheese burned against my leg— even through the throw blanket. My heart was racing and racing till it skipped a beat. It nearly stopped. He sounded so sure of himself. I wanted to laugh it off again, as if the thought of me and Spencer hooking up…no fucking on the sofa was something comedic or entertaining.

“Are you…Spencer…are you sure?”

I tried to keep my voice steady, unwilling to let him know that the thought of his hands on my body lit a fire inside of me, a fire that I had yet to challenge. But God do I want to tame it. Sex with Spencer would be messy and complicated.

Spencer’s eyes narrowed in on my face. I would’ve thought that being stared at so intensely would have made me want to sink into the couch so I’d be as forgotten as stray hair ties and pocket change. But I wasn’t. Spencer’s brown eyes, liquid bronze bore into me. I felt a hot excitement wash over me that I knew was arousal.

“Yes.”

“Is it bad that I want you to kiss me?” I sighed. “It’s bad timing for either of us. But…”

“But you want me to kiss you?” I nodded and Spencer moved closer to me on the couch. “You want me to help you forget how that man has made you hurt.”

“Spencer…” Before I could rescind my desire, not that I would ever think about it, his hand cupped my cheek. Spencer’s thumb brushed against my jawbone as his eyes scanned my face. I could smell his lavender mint body wash; crisp and clean.

His mouth was anything, but crisp and clean. It was hot and dirty. Spencer kissed me with a hunger that couldn’t be sated with just one kiss. I knew for the moment his lips touched mine, I was done for. I wasn’t a whiskey drinker; I hardly knew what it even tasted like. But Spencer’s kisses felt like it. He doesn’t drink, but his warm body was flush against mine and I tasted the heady, smokey warmth of a strong cocktail. His arms and torso were thick and solid.

I brought my hands up to his neck and carded my fingers through his scalp. He groaned, the vibrations tingled against my lips as he kissed me. Spencer’s teeth tugged at my bottom lip, pulling it out before he kissed it again. He shifted so his back was against the couch and I was hauled up to his lap.

“There you go, baby.” Spencer said. His hands were large and imposing against my back and I could feel their heat through my shirt.

My muscles and resolve transformed to liquid when he called me that. I could feel my heart surge and lurch and leap as Spencer’s lips nipped against my skin. It was so good, so warm, so achingly wonderful that I felt myself wondering if I could do this over and over. I loved my vibrator and I would continue to love my vibrator long after this once-in-a-life-time situation with my roommate would end. But there was nothing like straddling a man’s lap.

And Spencer Reid was a sight to behold. I knew he used to be skinny, but in the years that I didn’t know him, Spencer had grown up. He filled out his pants with his strong thighs and softer stomach. His pants were strained and tented. I grinded down, enjoying his haughty moan in my ear.

I arched my back, exposing my neck as Spencer’s wet, hot mouth pressed kissed along the column of my throat. Feeling him grin as he kissed me I tugged at his hair sharp and hard. His grunt is a mixture of surprise and pleasure. I didn’t think that he’d be this vocal but with me writing in his lap I felt him try to hold back.

“Just touch me.” I whined, kissing Spencer. “Please just touch me.”

His pants tented against my core. I tensed at the feeling of his erection. My pajama pants and underwear, though thin, offer only a sliver of the friction I desired. Spencer’s fingers, quick and nimble, didn’t hesitate to undo the drawstring bow.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” Spencer murmured, kissing my temple. His lips are like a tattoo kiss as he resurrects something inside of me that I had long buried. “Sit on the couch.”

I scrambled to sit, my body acting of its own accord as Spencer’s words rattled through me. He was so confident, so sure, so certain. And his hands never left my body. It was as if there was some internal pull between the two of us. He sank to his knees and swung my right leg over his shoulder. I lifted my butt and he slid my pajama pants off my legs. Tossing them to the floor, Spencer licked his lower lip and looked at me as if I was good enough to eat. I supposed that we were about to find out just exactly how good I was.

“Open up for me, baby girl.” Spencer whispered, his breath landed on my skin and made me jump. “Let me see just how pretty you are.”

Spencer Reid had a dirty mouth. My cheeks and chest and belly burned with arousal. He kissed along the edges of my panties. Spencer’s middle finger dragged along my underwear, teasing my clit through the cotton fabric. With the patience of a saint, Spencer tormented both of us. He looked at me as if he could commit me to memory. His eyes were heavy with lust and something that I swore could mean something more. But that line of thinking had red wine written all over it. It wasn’t drunk. Hell, I wasn’t even buzzed anymore.

“Jesus, I’m a lucky fucking bastard.”

Yet, I sat there. With my legs spread, held open by Spencer’s large hands, practically humming with need and desire.

“Please. Please. Just touch me.” I begged, beyond caring if I sounded wanton with need. Spencer smirked as he hooked a finger underneath my panties and slipped them down my legs. And there I sat, legs spread. Finally he obliged. With two fingers, Spencer dragged them up my exposed core. The heel of his hand brushed against my clit. His skin was soft and his fingers deft and skilled. I closed my eyes as the pleasure took control of my body.

Spencer slipped a fingertip inside of me. He could feel the wetness dripping from my cunt. I grabbed his wrist, forcing him to hold his hand against my core. Our eyes met and I could not tell which one of us decided to let his finger sink inside of me. I watched as he slipped inside and released a throaty moan. My cries were extinguished by Spencer’s unyielding mouth. He pumped in and out, in and out, before slipping out of my cunt all together. I lunged forward at the sudden loss and was met by Spencer’s wry chuckle.

“I am going to eat your pussy. And you are going to cum against my face with your legs around my shoulders.”

I groaned. It’s as if Spencer knew that my brain needed to be switched off. He nipped at my inner thigh. Blood rushed throughout my body and I felt my pussy heat at the sensation. Spencer’s soft breath was hot against my skin as he kissed. He licked a line up my aroused core before flicking his tongue over my clit. It was a teasing, tormenting motion that coaxed a wave of pleasure to build. He’s a man possessed, so far gone that I didn’t even attempt to hold back as a moan rises in my throat.

“Jesus. You are a sight to behold. I’m going to show you how a man takes his time.”

As if he could possibly spread me apart even further, Spencer squeezed my thighs. Clearly he wanted to see all of me. Taste all of me. I could feel a coil tighten in my lower stomach and as Spencer lowered his mouth to my core, I felt the coil snap.

His licks aren’t shy and timid like I imagined. They’re purposeful and powerful. And threaten to melt my carefully crafted guard. He’s already gotten me well past the point of foreplay. I’m so wet that I’m sure cock that tents his pants can slip inside without much resistance. But he didn’t stop. His tongue continued lick and nip and suck against my most intimate area.

“Is this all for me? So wet. So pretty, sweetheart. Your cunt is dripping for me.”

I panted, unable to form a coherent thought as Spencer’s heated gaze spread over me. “All for you. Only for you.”

“Well in that case, I think I have a job to do.

All I could see was red. His hands gripped my thighs. I hated my thighs, usually. They’re too soft and squishy and usually ruin most pairs of pants eventually.

“Fucking hell.” Spencer cursed as he sunk two fingers into my needy cunt. “You’re so hot and tight for me, Y/N. Look at you. All splayed out. All for me.”

“You don’t have to do it until I finish.” I blurted out. “I—I know this isn’t….I want tonight to be for you as much as it is for me.”

Spencer’s eyes shifted.

“Ssshh, shhh,” He cooed. He looked up at me with his eyes big and blissed out. It was almost too much for me to handle. I watched as he kneeled in front of me; pants had become too tight from the moment my fingers groped him. At this point it was nearly impossible to withstand.

“I’ve thought about this way too much for us to rush this. I’m going to take my time with you, baby. You are going to ride my face like a good girl.The only thing that’s keeping me from cumming in my pants is the thought of burying my face into your pulsing cunt followed by my fucking you raw with my leaking cock.”

I yelped as he and sucked along my inner thigh. My skin was impossibly soft and tempting. “Fuck. Fuck, baby. You’re perfect. You are a fucking dream.”

I fisted his hair, feeling the familiar rush of pleasure from my head to my toes. For a while it only set my own bedsheets ablaze, but now it spread to Spencer. He groaned against my core, still lapping me up as the wall of pleasure threatened to come crashing down.

One second I was moaning, feeling myself toe the precipice before I teetered over. The feeling built and crashed before I could even enjoy it.

“Fuck! No. Damn it.” I cursed myself for not being able to climax, despite the down right sinful things Spencer was hell bent on doing between my legs. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t…sometimes I have a hard time.”

“Don’t worry,” Spencer assured, his thumb brushing against my kneecap, “We’ll find our rhythm. Together. Anything you want. And I think I might actually die if I don’t get inside you this second.”

I laughed, dragging Spencer up by the shirt collar. He placed his hands against my hips and pulled me forward for a kiss.

I tasted myself against his lips and it turned my on beyond belief. “I want you. I’m on the pill and I want you. It’s awful timing because I don’t have any condoms and it’s a terrible idea but—”

I’m cut off by Spencer’s lips again. His mouth seared against mine, hot and needy. “I’m clean. I want this. I want you. So badly, sweetheart. So bad.”

I nodded, my mouth unwilling and unable to leave Spencer as he knelt in between my legs. He stood to his full height and took my hands. “I know I have promised to fuck you on this couch, but I have a bad knee and once I’m buried inside you, baby, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back.”

“My bed’s made.”

Spencer’s hands didn’t leave my waist as I walked him to my bedroom. I should’ve been more embarrassed as I walked with him, considering I looked more akin to Winnie the Pooh than a sexy hook up. But once I felt a sharp sting on my ass, I quickly realized that Spencer thought the opposite.

“Don’t blame me.” Spencer said. “With that ass you’re lucky I haven’t had the sense to take you over my knee already.”

I turned, facing Spencer and standing with just an oversized pajama shirt covering my chest. His hands hovered over my waist, pulling me towards him by the fabric of my shirt. “I need to see those tits, baby. They drive me fucking wild in the morning. When you’re sitting on that damn counter with your messy hair and no bra. You’re a sight to behold, baby.”

“On one condition.” I presented, attempting to act as if the dirty words that fell between us had no effect on me. “Those pants? They find their way to the hamper. And fast.”

Spencer chuckled as his fingers brushed stray pieces of my hair away from my face. He touched me with such tenderness that I could feel myself craving it long after it was gone. He dropped his pants, followed by his boxers. I meant to tease him about the mini double helix DNAs printed all over his boxers, but I was effectively silenced by his erection.

I felt him the entire time I sat and made out with in his lap. I could feel how hard and thick and long he must be, but seeing him out in the open made my body lurch with need. He devoured me with his lips, pushing me down into the bed as his quick hands rid me of my shirt. Spencer’s teeth met my nipple, nipping and twisting it to elicit the dirtiest moans from my lips. He smiled, sucking marks into my skin that would last even after all what stood between us shattered.

Licking my lips, I could still taste myself from his kiss. Never feeling anything quite this intense with anyone, I suddenly felt so naked and bare. But Spencer’s calm hands, big and gentle, soothed me wordlessly.

“I need you.” I begged, wanton with need, “I need your cock so bad.” I wasn’t a begging woman, but as Spencer pressed the tip of his cock at my entrance I figured that anyone can learn how to relent now and again.

Sweet kisses to my sweaty skin replaced his dirty words that made me flush. As Spencer hovered above me, I drank him in. His eyes were hazel, but sometimes, depending on what he wore, they were brown or green. I quickly unbuttoned his top, eager to have his warmth spread all over him. He was thick and solid— all man. From the muscles in his back to the furrow of his brow and the slight curl pattern to his hair, Spencer sucked all the air from my lungs.

I was weightless. I was floating. I was soaring.

When he finally slid into me it was with an excruciatingly slow speed. “Don’t wanna hurt you.” He mumbled, a hand brushed my hair and a pair of lips kissed my forehead. “Give ya a chance to see what you can handle.”

Emboldened, I wrapped my legs and interlocked my ankles around Spencer’s butt. He lunged forward and his forehead dipped towards my breast. His kisses were fast and erratic as I felt him sink deeper and deeper inside of me.

“You’re so thick…ah!”

“Oh fuck.” His voice was as raw and as affected as mine. “It’ll be fine, darling. You’re so perfect like this. Taking this cock like a good girl. I know how to make it better for you.”

His thumbs, rough and sharp, circled around my clit helping me to take his cock deeper and deeper. I whined, desperate for the relief and embarrassed at the way I’m at center stage. Spencer took me, made me his and I’m nothing but a mess for him. My bones are liquid as he reaches out for my hand.

It was like there was a blueprint to my body. I had it locked away somewhere. But somehow, somewhere along the way Spencer figured out where it was stored. He read the blueprint. And he knew exactly what to do to make my foundation crumble. With each stroke of his fingers against my clit or pulse of his cock in my pussy, he knew exactly what I needed.

Spencer’s lust filled voice rang clear. “You feel close. I’m so close. Can you come for me? Huh? Show me how you play with that pretty little pussy. How do you do it, Y/N?”

His hands and fingers dug into my lush body with an unrelenting desire I wasn’t accustomed to. Magic fingers. God. And I magic fucking cock. I grabbed his hair, dragging him down to my lips as I teased my clit. Looking down to where our two halves met nearly sent me over the edge. My cock swallowed Spencer’s thick cock, it was hot and erotic and I watched with my mouth hanging open in pure, unadulterated desire. My pussy, wet and hungry for more, begged him for more. I grabbed his ass with my unoccupied, dragging my fingernails down his skin as I begged for him to fuck me harder.

“Harder. Spencer. I need it.”

Spencer brought his face into my neck, kissing and biting my neck as he pounded into me. The angle set rockets of pleasure from my core to my toes, spurring me on as I practically chanted his name. Spencer moaned, his teeth sharp and mouth hot and heady as his kisses grew more and more frantic.

His thrusting was still sharp and calculated as his cocked continued to fuck me. “God, you look gorgeous when I fuck you. All fucked out from my cock. My girl.”

I liked the way he called me his. It was nice to be claimed. To be wanted and desired so badly that two letter little words were tacked on. It was a tiny word, but it changed the entire meaning. It was the sort of word that could make foundations falter and buildings collapse and roommates morph into something else entirely. Endorphins and hormones and who else knows what coursed through my veins.

It was just me and him. Together in a limitless space that neither of us would care to ever leave.

“So close.” I groaned and Spencer knew well enough to just continue rather than to change anything up. “That’s it, baby. Oh! Fuck. Spencer.”

My high came crashing down around me. I felt my cunt clamp around Spencer’s cock as he continued to thrust into me. His eyes watched me with an analytic level of observation. I knew he had a good memory; one that refused to allow him to forget much of anything. But as he watched me fall apart, naked and vulnerable and oh so aroused, it was like he was trying to commit me to memory.

“Come inside. Fuck! Spencer. Please. I need it. I want it.” I begged him, desperate for him to climax inside of me. I wanted to see what it would feel like to have his cum dripping from my needy, spent pussy. I wondered if it would feel different, if it would change something, something fundamentally.

His voice was hoarse and strained as he came, shooting spurts of hot cum into my cunt. It was unabashedly erotic, watching him fall apart with his bare cock stuffed inside me. “Fucking, hell. It’s never been like that before.” He kissed my jaw, holding me in place by my chin while still sheathed inside of me. It was a lovely feeling. Full and safe. I must have been so drunk on him because I thought I could stay like this forever.

The silence that fell between the two of us lingered for several months. Spencer’s fingers danced along my hip bone and up to my rib change. His eyes were closed and his hair was matted with sweat against his forehead. He had creases near his eyes and deep, well set-in bags under his eyes. I wondered how inappropriate it would be for him to spend the night with me. Naked of course. I don’t think either of us could handle having it any other way.

I never fucked my roommate. Nor have I been ballsy enough to have “feel better” sex with a friend. It’s not like I expected him to lay out a red carpet and get down on one knee after he gave me a handful of (earth shattering) orgasms.

“Y/N.” Spencer breathed. A beat passed before I dared to reply.

“Spencer.” He stirred beside me, his hand resting against my thigh.

“I think…I think we’re gonna need to try that again and again and again…” He rolled over onto me, kissing along my jaw. I felt the pads of his thumbs against my bare breasts and sighed.

God, help me. He’s my man.

Taglist: @foxy-eva @reid-ingandweeping @andiebeaword @boldlyvoid

(I know several people asked to be tagged, but if you didn't have that you were above 18 in your blog you won't be tagged in this one!

Please reblog, comment, and like! Feedback and encouragement and interactions are wonderful to receive. Thank you!

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING ANGELIC !!! CHARLES L. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: she was so sweet but her ex should've known better than keeping her his dirty little secret. OR it was wrong to lust after her ex's teammate but charles leclerc was willing to give her everything.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, tbh there's barely smut in there but charles is nasty as fuck so 🙃, ex!carlos sainz x pr manager!reader, hint of corruption kink (not really), p in v, unprotected sex (plz use protection), lowkey possessive!charles, i barely understand what i wrote tbh

note: i only post a lot of charles when he's a dad to the leclerc boys but god did i have some filthy thoughts about him tonight. enjoy xx

something sinful (smut) masterlist

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out

it was wrong to lust for your ex’s teammate, but charles leclerc was determined to make her his and he made sure that she knew that.

a whole winter break was enough to move on, right? right. charles couldn’t give much shit about the time limit for a person to move on from their ex. 

not when he saw her throughout the first race week as she took long strides while she followed esteban ocon for the french driver’s media duties. charles used to see her in the ferrari area — being carlos’ sweet secret girlfriend and public relations manager. 

how carlos had managed to get away from his crimes of being seen with another woman in public while fucking his manager behind the scenes was something that charles would never understand— but the monégasque pitied the sweet woman for having to see her boyfriend play tonsil hockey with someone else.

she was angelic, having to put up with that kind of thing. and all charles wanted to do was to make her his— to somehow make her realize that she was worth more than what carlos had recognized her for. 

his green eyes nearly darkened when he saw her, sitting alone at the booth that the alpine drivers occupied for the night with a sad expression on her pretty face. four months of break away from carlos and she was still affected by the break up that occurred half a year ago. 

and her sadness was quickly swept aside when she saw charles taking a stride towards her direction, scooting over instinctively as the ferrari driver offered her a grateful smile and sat next to her. 

“i haven’t seen you for a while,” charles told her with a smile, “pierre was incredibly foul for not inviting you to any of our functions during the break.”

“ah- yeah,” she let out an apologetic smile, “i’ve been trying to adjust to my new place in nice. i figured if i was going to be working for alpine, i might as well live in france.”

“oh you moved? trés bonne,” charles nodded, earning a sheepish smile from her. he nearly melted at the sweetness on her reaction. god she was so fucking perfect. 

“it’s such a shame i don’t get to see you in the office anymore, though,” he shrugged. “ferrari lost an asset.” 

she snorted quietly, “hm, fred even said so. but you know— people come and go.” 

“it’s such a pitiful thing, though,” charles said, looking at her while they both drank, “you should’ve been my manager— you’d do more good with me.” 

“you’re right,” she drawled, now staring at his eyes as she playfully said, “you wouldn’t fuck me and i wouldn’t get emotionally attached.”

as if they were both in another universe, charles then chuckled darkly and boldly claimed, “i mean... i still would’ve fucked you— i just wouldn’t be stupid enough to let you go and treat you like a dirty little secret.” 

she saw how his pupils darkened as he spoke, feeling her legs absentmindedly closing and squirming. as if the floodgates had opened and arousal had gotten the best of her. 

“nobody knew about you and sainz but me, right? the amount of times i’ve had to turn a blind eye was insane— i almost thought i’d have to intervene because it was compromising his media duties,” charles admitted, “i wondered what kept you from getting him to move and do his job— it turns out he’s just fucking you in his motorhome. i’ve had to tell the social media manager that he’s just woken up from a nap.”

“he pretended that you’re not even worth the attention after his races because you’ve always been second best to him,” charles tutted.

she huffed, “there’s no need to rub it on my face—“

“—oh no, mon tresor, i’m not being a dickhead about it,” charles shook his head, placing his drink down on the table. 

the lights in the club were nothing but colourful strobes that didn’t even spot them, making it easier for him to get closer without anyone noticing and interrupting them. 

his breath fanned her ear as he whispered huskily, “i wouldn’t allow him to make you see yourself as second best, mon ange.”

“charles—“ she let out a breathless sigh, feeling his mouth leave open mouthed kisses on her skin. “this is so wron—“

“nothing’s wrong with this when we don’t work anymore, mon tresor,” he murmured. “there’s nothing more wrong than allowing your sweetness to get in the way of the things you so deserve.” 

“and you know how to show me the things i deserve?” she asked, almost innocently. god, was he about to cream in his pants if she continued to say shit like this. 

“you can demand the world and i’ll give you the universe,” charles watched her accept his offer as he smiled widely.

it was so wrong to lust after her ex’s teammate, but if charles leclerc was willing to give her everything then who was she to reject the offer? the monégasque was telling her to be greedy, and this was the best way to do it. 

she felt too overwhelmed. whether it was because of how charles treated her body or how he spoke so dirtily— she wasn’t sure. 

her mind was on an overdrive. all she could think about was him. his godlike figure, his prettiest eyes and his thick cock that continued to pound inside her cunt. 

she almost shook at his tone as he groaned delightfully right by her ear, “mon dieu, chéri, tu te sens si divin.” my god, darling, you feel so divine.

charles helped her prop herself up back on her knees as his hand guided her eyes towards the mirror in front of them, watching her eyes glistening as much as her cunt did in pleasure.

he then murmured, “do you see yourself, sweetheart? you look so pretty.”

she couldn’t even find herself to look when all she’s thinking about was the cock that stuffed her from behind, a strangled whine escaping her throat as she urged him to move. 

“i wish carlos was here to see this,” he chuckled deeply, his fingers pinching her hardened nipple before trailing down her clit to stimulate her even more. she let out a loud whimper, now feeling overwhelmed by his words and his actions as he fucked her once more. “so he knows not to treat you like you’re not worth bragging about.” 

“but i guess he had a reason to keep you a secret, hm?” he taunted her, rocking his hips against her as he bottomed out inside her. “because he knew that once you’re out in the world you’d be corrupted by some men. he was so selfish that he thought his sweet innocent girlfriend shouldn’t be corrupted by anyone but him.” 

“oh how wrong he was,” charles moaned, his thrusts turning rough and fast as he growled. “you know you deserve better than being a dirty little secret, no?” he tapped her face lightly with his palm as he said, “answer me, mon ange.”

“o- oh- yes,” she cried out, “yes, yes—“

“i can give you everything, mon tresor,” he murmured, “everything that he couldn’t give you.” 

“fuck, charles! please,” she mewled, looking behind her with pleading eyes as she begged desperately, “want to cum again, charles please~”

“gonna cum in this pussy of yours, mon ange—“

“please, cum inside me,” she moaned aloud, her desperation echoing around the suite as well as the skins slapping against each other. “please pleaseeee~ just wan’ to cum. god! feel so full, fuck!”

“gonna cum inside you, and make you mine,” he growled quietly, nibbling on her skin as she whined and mewled. her walls clenched at the thought as he chuckled, “oh? you want that, hm? you want me to make this pussy mine?” 

“yes! fuck-“ she exclaimed, her body convulsing while she whined, “want you to own me, charles. wanna be stuffed full by you only, charles please~”

“you could’ve asked me a long time ago, mon tresor,” his thrusts turned hard and slower as he came inside her, feeling her clench around his cock as they reached their highs. 

she was too fucked out and full, content at the feeling of his cock inside of her while feeling nothing but happiness being in his arms. 

charles couldn’t help but grin widely at the sight of her limped body and the dazed expression on her face. he couldn’t find himself to think about his teammate when this sweet woman was finally his.

he knew that he could do so much better treating her like a queen that she was than carlos would ever do. 

everything that her ex never gave her— charles would be more than willing to hand it to her on a gold plate.

the next morning, charles found carlos at the hotel lobby as they were both heading to the airport. the two ferrari drivers got to speak to one another before pierre gasly and esteban ocon saw them and talked amongst themselves.

carlos sainz sure was the kind to be confused and puzzled, and he showed this when esteban’s manager — who was once carlos’ girlfriend and manager — approached the group and talked to the drivers before turning to charles with a sweet smile. 

“are you going to go now, mon ange?” charles asked with a smile, watching her blush at the attention she got from him as she nodded meekly. “you could just come with us, you know? we’re heading to the same place, anyway.”

“yeah but,” she gestured to the two alpine drivers, “someone has to control these two before the next race week starts.” 

the alpine drivers protested against her words as she and charles giggled. charles then looked at her and said, “okay well… text me when you get there, okay?” 

she nodded and gave charles a sheepish smile (as if she hadn’t found herself saying the filthiest words to him the night before; not that carlos knew). 

charles wrapped his arms around her before kissing her passionately, humming at the taste of her. pierre let out a whistle and esteban grinned at the two toothily. 

while carlos… carlos was just confused as fuck. 

“see you tomorrow, pretty girl,” charles winked at her, smirk playfully written on his face as she giggled quietly and left with the two alpine drivers. 

charles found carlos staring at him with his mouth slightly agape, making the monegasque chuckle and shake his head. “she’s so sweet and pretty, no?” 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

[cimmanonrowl]

Hi, I saw that you’re taking dbf requests for Hotch! Could I request a fic with dbf!Hotch where he finally makes a move on reader during a party being hosted by her dad? Also, I love your fics sm!!

Dress

It was your father’s appointment party as Chief Justice when lawyers and businessmen overtly offer their sons as your marriage prospects. All while Aaron Hotchner listened quietly beside you, you can tell that he’s not too happy about it.

Pairing: dbf!aaron hotchner x bfd!reader

Theme: spicy hotshot

Contents: age gap, making out, angry confession.

The decorous garden of your home residence was filled with a crowd of guests long before the party officially started. Prominent people of different names and titles— some of your father’s business partners and colleagues in the Supreme Court, and some family friends you barely recognize— draped in their finest garments and overtly high status in society.

Pleasantries and polite conversations were exchanged; and as your father greeted each one of his dear friends, you had no other choice but to stay beside him all the time and be on your best behavior.

“You have a very nice house here, Chief Justice,” Emilia Kane— one of your father’s business partners as you recalled— said with a dainty smile.

You mirrored her small nod when she glanced at you, smiling politely at the woman and the other two beside her. “Good evening, Ma’am.”

“Good evening, dear. You look absolutely gorgeous…” She took a sip of her champagne and raked your outfit subtly, a kind smile on her face. “What year are you in University now?”

“She just graduated a month ago, Emilia. She’s entering Harvard Law this fall, haven’t I told you yet?” Your father intercepted proudly, making you purse your lips as you initially intended to answer the question.

The woman beamed in amazement as she glanced at you. “Oh my, congratulations! I’m so sorry I didn’t know.”

“She graduated top of her class.”

You sighed lightly, glancing at your father. “Dad…”

“I’m sure you’ve seen the photos, Emilia. I posted everything on my social accounts...” Father dear went on, still smiling widely.

“Dad, please.”

“Oh, did you?” The woman said in awe, alternating her amused gaze between you and your father. “And did he get you a new car, dear? An apartment? What did he get you for your graduation?”

“I wanted to give her all thos—”

“No, dad…” You shook your head, chuckling.

“Well, I rented an entire villa in Mykonos for her and her friends. She just got back from Greece yesterday.”

“Dad!” Heat crept in your cheeks as he continued. This conversation is making you sound like a hopeless case of a spoiled brat when it wasn’t entirely true. You might appear spoiled for other people at times but not on a hopeless— certainly not on a spoiled brat level.

“Oh, dear, you’re fine…” The other woman chuckled sympathetically. “I bought my son a new Porsche just because he didn’t get himself kicked out of University. I’m sure your father’s just proud.”

You shyly darted your gaze at your dad as you felt his palm on your linked arms. “Why won’t I be? She’s my only daughter...”

The light conversation continued and was only interrupted when a couple of new guests approached your father. Several familiar faces of lawyers and judges; some from your father’s law firm and some from the Supreme Court. Over the past years, you got to know most of them, making you fix your posture and remind yourself to smile more pleasantly.

So you stood there prettily in silence, smiling, as you accepted their handshakes.

“You look beautiful, hija…”

You beamed at the compliment. “Thank you, attorney. Good evening.”

“Have you seen Marcus around? He told me he’d look for you.”

“Marcus?” You perked your eyebrows in curiosity. “Is he home already?”

The innocent question made your father chuckle a bit. “Yes, sweetie. I told you I played golf with them last week, remember?”

A bashful smile tugged at your lips as you looked at Attorney Jensen. They’re one of your closest family friends. His son, Marcus, is one of the kids you grew up hanging around with at law firm parties and at weekend golf clubs. He’s a nice kid... but everything turned weird when everyone started pairing you both as teenagers.

Your father must’ve told you about Marcus’ arrival but you’re sure you didn’t care enough the first time that you missed the entire story when he called.

“Well, I’m sure he’s just around...” You said with a sweet smile.

Minutes dragged by and their conversations continued. You stood beside your father in silence, occasionally engaging in the small talk. Some of the men asked about your education, your plan after law school, and your love life— all of which you answered as briefly and politely as possible.

“Sir, it’s time to prepare for your opening speech—” You turned in the organizer’s direction when you heard her voice.

You stared at your father expectantly. Well, it’s not like he would need your help in preparing for his speech. He’s a Chief Justice for heaven’s sake, surely he can do that alone. You just hope he’s not thinking of leaving you alone with these men.

“Thank you, Laura…” Your father turned to glance down at you. “Honey, would you mind staying here for a whi— never mind— Aaron!”

Your heart almost burst into ashes with the sudden cry of your father. You quickly followed his line of sight— immediately being greeted by the sight of your father’s dear best friend since University days.

Aaron Hotchner.

He’s in a well-polished suit. His dark hair was clean cut and even from afar, you can see the light stubble on his jaw. And Jesus Christ, how can someone look that good?

“Chief Justice,” He greeted your father with an equally wide yet endearing smile, deftly shaking hands while your father chuckled heartily.

Aaron turned to you with a timid smile, opening his arms as a little invitation. You noticed the hint of hesitation on his face with that. Yet still, you accepted the hug before placing a quick and delicate kiss on his cheek, your hands shaking as you perched both your palms on his arm.

“I’ll excuse myself for a while. Will you look after her, Aaron?” You heard your father say as you scrambled to step away from Aaron’s embrace.

He wetted his lower lip before nodding, not even daring to look at you. “Yeah, sure.”

Embarrassment licked your skin as you watched your unsuspecting father walk away. The moment he was completely out of sight, you felt Aaron’s gentle hand snaking at the low of your back, securing you from the waist— as if preventing you from running away from him.

Effortlessly, he engaged in conversations as he settled beside you. And just like earlier, you fell silent as everyone else was busy in their own conversations.

“How about you, are you planning to get married soon after graduating from Harvard Law?”

You smiled lightly as a couple of guests whirled their attention back to you. “I’m afraid I’ll have to look for a boyfriend first, attorney.”

Aaron’s thumb started rubbing soft strokes at your waist. He seemed to be doing that unconsciously because when you glanced at him, he was talking to another group of guests standing at his side.

“So you’re currently looking for a boyfriend?”

“Not really, no...” You chuckled awkwardly. “But if I meet a good one, why not?”

The older man took a huge swig of his brandy. “I have a son. He’s in DC. Surgeon.”

You nodded with an unsure smile. What do you even do with that kind of information?

“That’s impressive...” You said instead.

“He’s also looking for a girlfriend. I can hook you up if you like. I mean, he also graduated from Harvard—”

“That’s kind of you, attorney, but as I said I’m not really looking…”

“My son’s an architect. I believe your father mentioned you’re into art, is that correct?” Another man interrupted, taking an interest in the conversation.

“Yes, attorney…” You gave him a small smile.

Although this night wasn’t meant for you in any way, you’re aware that you are your father’s reflection to these people. You know how crucial it is that you remain polite as much as possible.

“Just a few dates, what do you say?” He offered with a humorous smile. “Come on, maybe we can merge our firms one day. You know, I don’t have any successor of my own. My son’s an architect.”

“It’s not her fault your son chose architecture,” Attorney Jensen cut off before you can reply for yourself. “Besides, my son has been courting her since they were young. He went home this year just to ask her out officially.”

Your breath hitched as you felt Aaron’s grip on your waist tighten. You glanced up at him in confusion, only to see that his usually kind eyes turned piercing, his eyebrows pulled into a tight frown. He seemed mad— furious. He looked furious at the incredulity he was hearing.

You glanced away, not sure what to make of that.

“I believe we need to go to our tables now...” Aaron said formally, his voice deep and serious. His eyes were pointed at his old colleagues and other businessmen.

You smiled at the waiting guests. “I believe I still want to hear what they’re saying...”

Aaron turned to you in disbelief, his scowl deepened.

“About?”

“About their sons.”

You watched Aaron with an innocent look, tilting your head a little, calming the rapid beating of your heart as you saw him let out a sigh of frustration.

Attorney Jensen chuckled at the sight. “Oh, come on now, Aaron. She’s a grown woman, plus it’s just a few dates. It won’t hurt surely.”

“Surely...” You nodded along, glancing at the other men. “It won’t hurt to try.”

You bit your lower lip as Aaron leaned into your ear. His hot breath fanned over your skin, his deep voice sending chills to trickle down your spine.

“Continue this conversation, young lady, and let’s see what will happen.”

The horrified look on your face drew laughter from the guests. They must’ve thought Aaron was threatening to tell this to your father. So you turned away, your smile dropping as you looked around apologetically.

Your father’s voice from the make-shift stage snatched everyone’s attention from you and the conversation. Some marshalls started ushering people to their seats to prepare for the opening speech of the Chief Justice. With small nods and smiles, they all marched toward their respective tables and left you on the spot with Aaron.

“Come with me.”

You staggered sidewards, looking around in slight panic. “The party’s starting.”

“We have to talk.”

“Aaron,” You sighed, eyeing the stage. “My father’s giving his speech…”

That only made him frown deeper. “You proofread that speech for him, you won’t miss anything.”

“So what if I did? I still want to listen.”

He wandered his gaze around the venue before guiding you away from the crowd. It was seldom that Aaron visited your home residence. When he and your father hang out, they usually visit bars, golf clubs, or shooting ranges. But he does know the basic layout of your house. And you know that he’s leading you inside your home this time.

Deep down, you feel like you know exactly where he wants to talk.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” He blurted out angrily the moment you stepped inside your room.

You whirled around to face him, crossing your arms across your chest as you heaved a tired sigh.

“What, Aaron?”

He took a step forward. “Is that your way of getting back at me?”

You shrugged, still confused about the point he was making. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You perfectly know what I’m talking about.”

A beat of silence.

Then realization dawned, making you smile in pure resignation.

Two months ago, you made up your mind and finally confessed to Aaron Hotchner. You’re already graduating from University. You will enter a Law School soon. What’s there to lose? Aaron had been showing the subtlest of signs that he likes you back: the way he looks at you, the way he makes you feel cared for and safe, the way— you mistook everything for a reciprocated love.

He cared for you, yes.

Simply because you are your father’s extension.

So what’s this? Why bother now?

“It was clear you didn’t like me,” You whispered quietly. “Which is fine, Aaron, really. I understand— I mean, I was hurt obviously. But… but I understand. I’ll just have to move on, right?”

“You’ve no idea what you’re saying…” He mumbled hoarsely, still piercing you with his darkened gaze. With quick steps, he bridged the gap between you and cupped your cheeks on both his hands.

You swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “Aaron…”

“How can I let you move on when that thought alone is killing me?”

Your breath hitched at his words. “W-what?”

“Fuck this,” He spat angrily before placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “You’re driving me mad, sweetheart.”

The sound of muffled laughter, distant conversations, and clinking glasses filtered in through the partially open window. You can barely hear a word of what your father was saying in his speech. All you are aware of is how Aaron desperately chased your lips with hungry and deep kisses, and how the weight of his body was forcing you to blindly take several steps back.

You melted into his sinful lips, your arms snaking around his neck and pulling him closer. You felt his hands move down to your waist, gripping tightly the thin fabric of your satin dress. The sound of ragged breathing mingled in the air as he walked you backward, backward until your back finally hit the wall.

His lips trailed down your neck, nipping and leaving a wet trail of heat in your wake.

You gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as you arched into him. “Aaron…”

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with desire. His big, calloused hands roamed over your body, exploring, familiarizing you.

“Aaron, what are you—” You rasped weakly as he broke another kiss, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Don’t do that again…” He whispered back, breathing heavily as he closed his eyes. “I’ll figure it out. I’ll think of something, I’ll do something just don’t—”

“Don’t what, Aaron?”

“You’ve no idea what you were saying. Your confession— how can you think that I don’t like you?”

“Well…” You blushed, still catching your breath. “You didn’t say anything after, then you sent me home. You didn’t attend my graduation. You didn’t reply to my texts or even congratulate me.”

“You told me I don’t have to say anything…”

“Well, technically, if you didn’t say anything then you don’t like me.”

“You really have no idea what you’re saying, darling.”

You shivered at his whispered words, feeling a surge of boldness. Your hands found the button of his shirt, eager to feel the warmth of his skin. You clumsily tugged on his tie and ripped his clothes off of him, tossing them aside.

Aaron Hotchner could only watch in anticipation as you let the strap of your dress fall on the soft curve of your shoulders... until all your clothes quickly became a forgotten pile on the floor, your moans intertwining like ropes in the party-stained air.

As always, any thoughts and reactions are highly appreciated. Plus, to anon who requested this, YOU ARE AN ANGEL. I loved crafting this with this plot, and hopefully, you liked it as much as I do! See you all on the next ones, we have a few other good requests!

[elliezlils11utt]

Dbf!abby pt 2

contents: nsfw!! age gap (reader is early 20s Abby is mid-late 30!) risky sex! no descriptions of reader..? (I think) fingering, pt 2 to a post I’ve already made and won’t really make sense if you haven’t read pt 1? (technically you can read it w/o pt 1 tho)

pt 1 here!

summary: Abby fucks you while you, your father, and her are watching a movie together.

Wc: 1.5k?

proofread?: no babes sorry

A/n: some of this is quite literally copy and pasted from c.ai. I did not want to write this bc it’s boring. (Hence why it took literally a month to get out!) I hope it lives up to your dreams tho!

taglist: @seraphicsentences @tohoko

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She chuckled at your reaction, stepping away from you just as your dad opened the door. You could tell Abby was disappointed too, but the look in her eyes hadn't completely left.

"Ah, there you are! Come give your old man a hug."

Your dad called out to you, a big smile on his face. He hugged you tightly before looking at Abby.

‘hey dad! how was it?’ your dad replies, rambling on on about a stupid dinner party. To be completely honest you don’t remember half of the shit he was saying really. your eyes too focused on the tempting looks Abby was giving you from behind your fathers back. your heart jumping around in your chest. you’re sight stayed on Abby. bluring out your fathers useless talking. when he finished dragging on his spiel he ruffles your hair, Turing to look at Abby.

‘thanks for watching my little trouble maker, I really appreciate it’

your gaze turns to Abby, looking up at her figure you force your eyes into a puppy dog pout. you take your lip between your teeth, biting the flesh in your mouth. you wink.

‘yah abs, thanks for watching me.’

she rolled her eyes, annoyed at your teasing antics. but truthfully your making her go insane. fuck. she groans at your wink before giving you a warning look, silently telling you to cut it out..

‘yah it was no problem!” her words seem so genuine, a sweet smile flashed at your father before her face deadpans back to you. your father looked between the two of you. raising his eyebrow slightly. you turn to you’re dad giving him a questionable hum.

“Hm?” you act clueless. you can feel Abby’s gaze on you. feeling her eyes trail down your body. your dad seemed slightly suspicious but her jst laughed and let it go.

“nothing, nothing! but hey, Abby if you don’t have any plans, wanna watch a movie? you know all three of us! like old times!”

“what do u say abs? you down to stay a while?” you give her a look, a knowing, begging look.

she raised the corner of her mouth at this offer. her eyes drift from your father to you, then back to your dad.

“Yeah sure, I don’t see why not!” It’s not like she could ever deny you. you and your god damn puppy eyes. your pleading pathetic look. god you were so pretty to her.

“alright im going to go set up the movie.”

“alright daddy, call us in when it’s all set!” you watch your father walk out of the room, when he’s out of sight your catch your lip between your teeth before looking up at abs.

“your a bit of a brat, huh angel? you love teasing me infront of your dad don’t you? little minx.”

“mhm, you love it tho. the adrenaline of almost getting caught, don’t you abs?”

She chuckled and stepped closer to you, her eyes darkening with desire.

"You're very observant, aren't you? How about I test that theory?"

Abby whispered in a low, seductive tone. She ran her hand over your arm, feeling the goosebumps form on your skin. She leaned in, her lips only millimeters away from your ear.

“How about we make sure we don't get caught..?”

“yeah? but oh, what if we did. what if I ran and told daddy right now that his best friend was about to fuck his innocent little daughter? What would happens then abs.”

you say in a teasing, almost daring tone. She paused as you spoke, her eyes darkening even more at your teasing remark.

"Oh really, angel? You're testing me, huh? I'm sure your dad would love to see his daughter pinned against the wall, writhing and moaning because of me."

Abby smirked, her voice dripping with provocative undertones. your lips crash with hers, desperation winning. It was dangerous, your father just in the other room. But the thrill made it even hotter. Abby responded to your kiss passionately, her tongue eagerly slipping into your mouth. She pressed her body against yours, the adrenaline of getting caught making the moment even more intense. She felt your tongue against hers, the taste of you making her dizzy. Abby's hands found their way to your hips, her fingers digging into your skin. It was so dangerous, but so damn good. you hear your father call out from the other room, telling you the movie was set up. You slowly pull away from Abby, looking into her eyes. A string of spit connects your lips to hers. your hands dragging down to hers, pulling her in the living room.

“stay quite okay?”

You can feel her breathing heavy, her chest rising and falling. Her cheeks are flushed, lips parted and eyes darkened. Abby is practically speechless as you pull her into the living room. She nods slowly, her voice barely audible as she whispers.

“Okay."

you drag her into the living room plopping down on the couch. Patting the seat next to u. acting as if nothing happened in the room next door. Abby follows you, her heart racing. She takes a seat next to you, trying to compose herself and act nonchalant. Her eyes are fixated on the tv screen, but her body is still buzzing with the adrenaline from your encounter. She leans slightly towards you, her leg grazing against yours under the blanket. you pull her hand onto your thigh under the blanket, turning to her. She looks at you, feeling your touch send sparks through her body. Abby turns towards you too, her fingers tracing circles on your thigh under the blanket. She smiles softly at you, knowing damn well how risky this whole situation is. You drag her hand higher, closer to where you want her. hoping she takes the hint. She feels her heart race as her hand moves higher, her breath hitching. She glances at you, seeing the desire in your eyes. Abby moves even closer to you, leaning in so her breath tickles your ear.

“You're being quite daring tonight, angel. Do you enjoy the danger? Do you want us to get caught?"

you whisper into her ear

“maybe, maybe not. fuck around and find out.”

She shivers as your breath touches her ear, and your whispers send her heart racing even faster. Abby lets out a soft laugh, and her hand continues to move higher, getting closer to where you need it. She leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispers back.

“You little... devil. You know what you're doing, don't you?"

“of course I do.” you giggle softly. you feel her hand palm your heat. the contact making you jump. you look at your father, he’s completely interested in the movie. paying no mind to the two of you. her fingers slide your sleep shorts to the side. her digits rubbing your cunt over your painties. you close your eyes, enjoying the pure bliss of what you’ve been wanting for so long. her fingers work at your cunt. feeling your slick build up on the cotton of your painties. you bite down on your lower lip. hard. holding back desperate little moans. how pathetic. her hand slides under your painties. feeling your slick flesh. you bite back a moan, bucking into her hands.

“shhh shh shhh, quite baby.” a low voice whispered into your ear. how the fuck were you supposed to be quiet when her fingers were slipping into your drooling pussy? she starts out with one finger. slowly pushing it into your clenched hole. then she adds another. you try to hide the fact your dads best friend was inside of you but it was kinda hard. your hand flings up to ur mouth when she curls her fingers into u. your gaze turns back to your father who’s falling asleep in his chair. her eyes remain on the tv. never breaking and never looking at you. she knows what she’s doing and refuses to look at you. under the blanket her digits pump in and out of your hole. faster and faster. you wiggle around in your seat. Practically dripping. you whimper slightly. causing Abby to stop completely. she looks at you with a piercing stare, her eyebrow raised.

“m’ sorry.” you whine quietly. and with that her fingers return their unforgiving pace. you feel yourself at the brink of your orgasm. you bite down on the back of your hand holding back your whimpers and moans. you squirm in your seat as you cum on her fingers. her eyes still never leave the tv as your cum all over her. Her digits work you through your orgasm. you struggle to keep quiet. You calm down from your high. looking at your dad to see if he heard your sad attempt to stay silent. he’s passed out. you turn to Abby who has a shit eating grin plastered across her face. you punch her playfully, rolling your eyes before laying your head on her shoulder.

“whats happening in the movie?”

“I don’t know I haven’t been watching”

“yes you have?”

“you think I can keep focus on a dumb movie when you look so cute trying to be quiet from me?”

A/n: this sucks. ilyyy!!!

[yourstru1y4ever]

Day 15 - "Are you jealous?"

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x F!Reader Word Count: 2.5k (WHOO) Content: Fluff, fighting a curse (no one gets severely injured :D), Gojo's past, Reader is Kaori's younger sister, somewhat canon compliant Tuna-Tober 2024 Masterlist <- check out the other fics posted this month!

A/N: Another taste of my upcoming series that I’m hoping to put out once I finish Tuna-Tober! I do some liberties from canon since we don’t know that much about Kaori before. . . y’know. . . Let me know if you want to be tagged in the series if you enjoyed this little preview! And as always be sure to like, reblog and comment if you'd want to see more! - Yours Truly

June 7, 2007

Apparently after the stunt you pulled during the Exchange Event a few weeks ago your sister’s clan reached out to her, accepting you both into the clan. You had to go back home to Sendai and deal with negotiations with her. They would never accept that Kaori married a human, not even capable of jujutsu, nor their son.

You talked to Yaga a few days ago and he agreed to let either Gojo or Geto take your missions for you while you were gone. As you step back into your house you remember the words Yaga mentioned.

A cursed object went missing in Sendai not long ago. We’re sending some sorcerers there but given you’re up for promotion, keep an eye out. 

“Auntie!!” Your nephew runs up to you as soon as you walk through the front door.

“Yuji!!” You match his excitement, kneeling down to pick him up. Once he’s in the air he’s giggling holding onto you.

“Goodness you’re getting so big now, I can barely. . .” You slowly drop to your knees dramatically, “Lift you up anymore. . .” You set him on the ground and collapse on the floor. Yuji keeps giggling at you and tries to turn you to your side.

“Come on, Auntie!” You keep your eyes closed, but you stick out your tongue like you’re dead. “I know you’re okay. Get up!!” He laughs and you can’t help but to smile along with him. You suddenly grab him, pulling him into a hug and you're both laughing.

You hear someone clear their throat and you look up to see Wasake, Kaori, and Jin looking down at the two of you. Yuji squirms out of your hold and runs up to his dad, his smile never waning.

“She’s home! She’s home!” Yuji tells him as you start to stand up.

“Welcome home.” Your sister says, her smile not reaching her eyes.

“Thank you,” You try to give her a reassuring smile back but she turns to Wasuke before she could notice.

“My sister and I have business to take care of tonight. Don’t worry about saving dinner for us, we won’t be home until late.” 

Wasuke gives her a tense look but nods his head.

“I understand. Jin, can you take her suitcase up to her room?”

“Of course,” Jin walks over and picks up your suitcase while holding Yuji in his other arm. “It’s nice to have you home.” He whispers to you.

“It’s nice to be back.” You reply.

Kaori crosses between you two and opens the front door, “Let’s go, it’s rude to keep our guests waiting.”

You straighten up and look towards Jin. He shrugs while Yuji gives you and Kaori a huge wave, “Bye Mommy! Bye Auntie!!”

“Goodbye sweetheart,”

“See ya kiddo!” You give him an enthusiastic wave back as you leave. Once the door closes the air suddenly feels tense. Kaori walks a few paces in front of you as you make sure you have everything on you.

You were meeting the clan head and a few members of their board to go over the negotiations so you were both dressed modestly, but nice. You were wearing a dress that Gojo had bought for you for your two month anniversary and heels that matched. The meeting place wasn’t far from your home so walking there wasn’t a pain.

Kaori stops in front of a house that’s behind a set of gates, and as soon as you're by her side she rings the buzzer. The gate doors swing open and you both walk side by side up to the front door. You bow your heads and when you bring your head up you see the clan head looking down at you both with a curiosity you haven’t seen before.

You keep your face straight as you make eye contact with him.

“So she’s the one with the inherited technique?” A voice asks from behind him, “My future wife?”

Your eyes widen and you look behind the Elder. A boy, possibly a year younger than you, gives you and Kaori a disgusted look as he crosses his arms behind him. He looks weak and pathetic, his hair slightly greasy and he looks like he hasn’t bathed himself in days.

“The girl with that ugly scar on her head?”

“No child, the younger one.” The clan head’s voice was rough and showed his age. 

“Your father might have had one too many whores, but at least this child was able to inherit our technique.” He gestures vaguely at you and your hand tightens into a fist. You try to center your breath so you don’t immediately fight these stupid-

“The eldest and I will have a conversation inside; Masamune,” The clan head points to the boy, “She’s your future wife, keep her safe.” The boy rolls his eyes and sighs walking down the steps and meets you face to face.

Kaori walks past the boy and sticks her tongue out behind his back, only for you to see.

You bring a hand up to cover your laugh, but it doesn’t go unnoticed. “What are you laughing at, wife?”

You grimace, “I’m not your wife, and I remembered something a friend of mine told me about clan meetings.” You can feel your phone buzzing in your pocket but you choose to ignore it.

“Oh and what was that?”

“To always skip them.”

Masamune scoffs, “Must be some fourth grade if she skips meetings.”

You hold back another laugh, “I wouldn't consider him a fourth grade sorcerer.”

“Him!?” He raises an eyebrow at you. “No, you’re not allowed to have any male friends if we’re going to be married.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re not getting married.” You state simply, trying not to let your phone ringing for the umpteenth time annoy you.

Before Masamune can reply a loud ringtone plays out from your pocket, willing itself to be heard.

“I’m sorry I have to take this.” You give him a fake smile and look down at your phone to see Nanami’s phone number lighting up the front. You flip it open, turning away from Masamune.

“This better be good.” You mutter into the phone.

“You’re in Sendai right?!” You overhear a loud crash over the speaker and someone yelling to Nanami.

“Yeah, why?”

You can barely hear Haibara ask, “Did she answer?” 

“We’re fighting a special grade curse- need your help. Gojo is on his way but you’ll get to us faster.”

“I- I can’t I. . . “ You look over at Masamune who’s giving you a frustrated look.

“Never mind, I can. Send me a pic of your location and I’ll be there soon.” You hear a loud crashing sound a few blocks away from you.

“Wait, are you nearing a forest?”

“Yes!”

Oh God. Instinct kicks in as you shut your phone closed.

“Hello?” Masamune calls out and you give him a look. 

“Can’t explain, special grade curse-” You turn and run out the gate running towards the street.

You’re standing in the middle of the road, eyes searching for the curse’s presence. At first, you're unable to feel anything but you suddenly hear a loud roar coming from a block away.

You look up to see a curse as big as a whale barreling down the street, jaws wide open to eat you. You can see Nanami and Haibara trailing not far behind it, calling out for you to move.

Your head tilts down slightly as you allow yourself to pool your cursed energy into your hands. You bring your hands in front of you. You can feel the pulse of the curse and something inside it.

“Cursed blood technique: convergence!” You yell out as purple liquid trails out of the curse and in front of you. Its blood wraps around your hands as you clasp them together, letting the blood form a laser focus. The curse splits in two right as it reaches you, its body falling to either side of you.

Once it’s completely down, you stumble forward, dropping your focus. 

“What the hell?!” You glance over at Masamune who is hiding behind the gate.

“Guys?” You yell out to Nanami and Haibara who are still running at you at full speed.

“It’s not-!” Nanami starts but it’s already too late. The curse is somehow reforming itself. . . you didn’t exorcize it yet.

“Shit.”

You run out of its way and it fully reforms itself, giving the three of you a murderous look.

“What kind of curse-?” You start.

“It’s like a hydra.” Haibara finishes. Nanami brings up his blade in front of you all.

“We need Satoru.”

“No shit,” Nanami mutters. The curse roars again and you all get ready for the fight.

“It’s a good thing I’m here then~”

Nanami looks behind him and gives Gojo an incredulous look. 

“Now’s not the time,” You tell Nanami. The curse throws its head back, a disgusting hacking sound coming out of its mouth, “All of you, I’m going to line up the shot; Nanami, you need to cut its head off;  Haibara, help me line it up, and Satoru?”

“Yeah Pretty?”

“Don’t destroy this street, my nephew lives down the road.” He gives you a smile before kissing you, “You got it, sweetheart.”

You hear Nanami gagging but there wasn’t any time to deal with the aftermath of your classmates learning that you and Gojo were officially dating. That can come once you all finish off the curse.

You and Haibara run in opposite directions, both trying to get the curse’s attention. Nanami and Gojo disappear from your vision but you soon hear a familiar whistle that you and Nanami came up with.

Once you’re far enough away from the curse, you turn to face it. Centering your focus on its body. You feel your cursed energy seeping out of you as you bring your hands in front of you once more, this time your right arm extending farther than your left. You focus on its heartbeat, the blood it has that keeps itself alive.

You’ve never controlled this level of curse before, but you had no time to worry if doing this would hurt you.

You tense your right hand and mutter, “Cursed blood manipulation: Marionette.”

The curse stills and its body contorts as you gain control of it. You only had a limited amount of time before you would lose consciousness. You turn your right hand slowly towards you and the curse turns on its left shoulder. You can feel it trying to fight against your technique but you hold out. Your right arm straightens out as your left hand goes in the opposite direction.

The curse’s head is a meter away from yours as its body lays flat against the street, your hands start wavering as it starts thrashing against your hold on it.

“Any day now!!” You yell out and suddenly Nanami slices through its neck, splitting it perfectly.

Before it has the chance to reattach its head, Gojo quickly walks through the path between the curse’s head and body, taking his hands across the wound, and cauterizing it with a very limited version of his technique reversal.

You drop down to your knees as you fight to stay awake.

“Hey hey, come on now sweetheart.” Satoru quickly appears at your side, bringing an arm around your torso, and helping you stand up. “We got an audience.”

You try to get your eyes to focus as you look up to see your sister looking at you with mild amusement, the clan head giving you an unamused look and Masamune’s mouth hanging agape.

Haibara runs over towards Nanami helping him up and they both walk over towards you and Gojo. 

“Thank you for the help,” Nanami says to you, “I don’t know why they sent us on this mission.”

You give Nanami a smile, glancing back at the curse’s body as it starts to disappear. “I think I know why it was a higher grade than you expected.” You nod in the direction of the object that it left behind. . . one of Sukana’s fingers.

Haibara quickly picks it up before anyone else can, “We better take this back to Jujutsu High.” 

Nanami takes out his phone to call one of the assistant supervisors, “We’ll be on our way, we’ll see you soon.” He says to you and you wave goodbye to him. You bring your attention back to Kaori who is starting to walk back home.

“We’re not joining their fucking clan.” She calls out.

“You were going to join their clan?” Satoru looks down at you and you avoid his gaze. “They had offered a lot of protection for my sister and her family.” 

“At what cost? If anything you should just marry me and bam you’re a Gojo and no one will fuck with either of us.” You push away from him, a blush creeping onto your face.

“Don’t say things like that if you don’t mean it, Satoru.”

“Wait! No, she's marrying me!” Masamune stomps over to you two. You give him a confused look, “I’m not even joining your clan asshole, fuck off.” You tell him, but he doesn’t falter. He keeps looking at Gojo waiting for an explanation.

“Are you jealous? She’s dating me, the Satoru Gojo, and not you, you pathetic piece of shit.” Gojo’s eyes flicker down at him, his face disgusted. “I should kill you right where you stand.” 

“Enough,” You try to sound serious but your smile is on Satoru's shoulder. Masamune looks like he’s about to shit himself and you can’t help but laugh at him. 

“Please forgive my son’s behavior Gojo,” The clan head’s voice rings out, “He doesn’t know his place.”

“Clearly.” Satoru snarks, “Let’s get you home sweetheart.” 

Within a blink, you’re suddenly in front of your house with Satoru, your hands on his chest. You look up at him and he gives you a soft smile.

“I meant what I said by the way. We should get married.”

You roll your eyes at him and lightly tap his chest, “Okay Toru, whatever you say.” You say sarcastically. He lets go of you reluctantly and you go to open the front door. 

Kaori arrives a few moments before Gojo leaves. She sees him kiss you for a few moments before disappearing in front of you. 

You and Kaori make eye contact as a blush reappears on your face, “We were just-!” 

“It’s okay, I think it’s sweet.” She tells you as she pats your shoulder. 

You were in for a lecture from Yaga once you returned to Jujutsu High since none of you put down a veil around the curse. It was worth it though since you got multiple recommendations for First Grade along with Nanami and Haibara after fighting that curse. Things are starting to look up for you guys.

[cecilebutcher]

!!URGENT HELP FOR G@Z@!!

Hello everyone. I know I haven’t been posting any twst content for a while, and I am planning on doing so soon, but this takes urgency!

After some research and seeing how much my last 🍉 post did I decided that I’m gonna post this one with links to directly help families/people in G@za who need help (and I’m censoring the place because tumblr has taken down posts of other people who have spoken about the gen0cide before)

Please try to donate and if not then reblog like comment and share this to other platforms, post this to your personal account on other socials, send it to your friends and family, or even just @ people.

But before that I just wanted to tell everyone that I do have news from my first post, it’s under the cut alongside the links :-

I sadly just saw this for some reason, but still wanted to share it with you guys!!

Now for the links:-

This one if for Ahmed Al-Nasser who has two young boys and a pregnant wife who is in dire need of a c-section

This one is for Nurse Maha, she has a husband and a small boy, Nour, who’s only 2 years old that hasn’t had any vaccines or any medical help

This one is for Haneens family, thankfully she lives in Belgium and doesn’t have to suffer or watch the war currently going on, but her family of 11 do. Both her parents have chronic illnesses, and some of them are young kids.

This one is for Ahmed, who’s a father (he doesn’t specify of how much but he has a picture of his two TODDLER daughters) he has been displaced with his family and his diabetic father, they are halfway to their goal only needing 75,772kr.

I sadly don’t know anything about this next link other than they have a child who has special needs, so please do share or even better donate!

This one is for Haitham, a 31 year old male, he needs emergency surgery, but at the state G@aza is in he can’t get it

This one is for Ahmen, a doctor in g@za. He is so so so far from his goal (his goal is 15,000€ and he only has 2,778€) this isn’t even for him, bless his soul, it’s for his elderly father who is unable to walk and is need for emergency surgery.

This last one is for Nour, a 31 year old mom and a wife to Amir who is 35. They have 4 gorgeous children (Kareem (7 years old), Imad (6 years old), Tia (2 years old), and Abdel Rahman (five months old)) it after reading their story I am in actual tears and my heart hurts for them. Poor Abdel Rahman was only 10 day, Ten days, old when all this has happened. This kids have their whole lives ahead of them and they might not see it because of what’s happening to them.

Tagging some people I know will reblog this: @jade-s-nymph @siphoklansan @ceruleancattail @catboiie16 @cloudcountry

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 48

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber, Steve Kemp

Note: alright.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

You sit with Harper and Avery on the floor and roll a car around the track. Most nights you end up like this. Sometimes you feel like a child too. 

You’ve offered to help Ann clean up after dinner but she says you’re much more help keeping an eye on the children. Steve’s usually up in his office or in the kitchen with her. That night, it’s the latter. You can hear their voices in a low murmur but there words are hidden behind the childrens’ squeals and arguing. 

“Watch this!” Avery sends a car flying up the track and it bounces on the wall. 

“Woah, don’t do that,” you get up to retrieve it and check for a dent. “You could hit someone.” 

“So? It's fun,” she argues. 

You just shrug. Even with them, you can’t really argue. They’re not your kids. 

As you lower yourself back to your knees, a figure appears in the archway. You glance over as Ann smiles and rests a hand on her hip. You set the car back on the track. 

“Kids, it’s bath time. Your dad’s turn tonight.” 

“I don’t want a bath,” Harper whines. 

“Well, honey, you need one, so go before Daddy comes down to get you,” she tuts. 

The children groan in disappointment but get up. She points them around her and up the stairs. She goes to watch their ascent and you work at collecting the cars and dump them into the plastic bucket. Ann returns as you take down the track. 

“You are so good with them, sweetie,” she praises. “And they love you.” 

You nod as you focus on your task, “thanks.” 

Your skin buzzes in dread. You know how the night will end. Like any other. It’s been almost a month and the routines clear. You never go to bed alone. 

“Can you do me a favour?” She asks and you drop the last piece of track into the bucket. You stop and look at her.  

“Sure, uh, what?” 

She smiles again, “it’s hard to explain. Come with me.” 

You try not to show your discomfort. You get up and cross the room. She stops you and cradles your face between her hands. She presses her lips to yours. 

“Don’t worry, we’re just making sure you’re doing okay,” she drops her hand and grabs yours. 

She takes you through the half-bath on the first floor. It’s cramped with both of you inside. You’re confused. She shuts the door and you twiddle your fingers. As she opens the cabinet, heat crawls up your neck. 

“Ann, I... what’s--” 

“Don’t be nervous,” she chimes, “it’s okay. Just a test.” 

She takes out a plastic package and tears it open. She slips out a strip and looks over at you. 

“Go on, you need to pee on it,” she hands it over. 

“Pee?” You frown and look at the strip. “You think I’m pregnant?” 

She laughs, “oh, no, sweetie. This is an ovulation test. It let’s us know when you could get pregnant. We just want to be safe.” 

You’re confused. Why would they test you for that? If you’re ovulating, does that mean they won’t bother you? 

“Oh, okay,” you take the strip and approach the toilet. You wait but she stays. 

“I want to make sure you do it right,” she insists. “Go on.” 

You don’t argue. You’re too embarrassed. You pull your skirt up and slip down your panties. You sit and reach between your legs. Your bladder hurts but you can’t make yourself go. 

“Oh, here,” she turns on the sink, “that will help. Just think of a waterfall.” 

You close your eyes and focus. You can hear her moving around as you struggle to make yourself pee. She tisks and comes closer to you. You refuse to look. She moves your hand and pours water over you. 

“Let me know when you’re going, sweetie.” 

The water helps relax you and you squeak as you start to go. She shifts quickly and puts the strip under your stream. The warm urine splashes onto your fingers. She keeps your hand there until you’re done. 

She takes the strip away before you can look. She places it on the sink and washes her hands. You wipe and pull up your panties. You near to rinse off as well. You reach for the soap and scrub your hands. 

“Oh, sweetie!” She looks at the strip and scoops it up with a wad of toilet paper. “That’s so good!” 

She tosses it and hands you a towel. You dry off and she just as quickly drags you out of the room. You stumble after her. 

“Am I... ovulating?” You ask dumbly. You don’t even know what difference it would make. 

“Don’t worry. It’s good, it’s good.”  

She takes you upstairs and you hear splashing in the bathroom, a rectangle of light shining through the door onto the wall. Ann ushers you into your room and closes the door. 

“Come on, let’s have some fun before Steve gets here,” she tugs at your shirt.  

“Can’t-- can’t we wait?” 

“Oh, no sweetie, let’s get you warmed up for him,” she shoves her hands between your legs and you stagger back. “You’re so sweet, aren’t you?” 

“Please, I—I'm not ready--” 

“You are perfectly ready,” she purrs and pushes you so you land on the bed, “you want me to eat it? I can use my fingers? Or you can play with me?” 

She peels off her white blouse. You drag yourself up the bed, mortified. You should be use to it by now but she’s not like Steve. She’s not nice. She’s pushy. 

You sit frozen as she strips down. When she approaches, you don’t fight her. She undresses you in turn and puts you on your back. She holds herself over you and pushes her thigh against your cunt. She rocks. 

“How’s that?” She breathes, “you’re already wet.” 

You wriggle as you lay paralysed, arms at your side, spine rigid. She pulls your legs around her and you hook them over her hips. She reaches down and glides her fingers between your folds. 

“Mm, if only I were a man. I’d fuck you so good, baby. I’d break you in fucking half,” she snarls and snaps her teeth at you. “Little slut.” 

“Please,” you beg. 

“You like fucking my husband? Hm? You like the way he stretches you out and fills you up?” Her last consonant pops. “Hmm, you like being our dirty little toy.” 

“Stop,” you push on her shoulders, “I’m scared.” 

“You’re not scared. You’re selfish. You’re a broken fucking whore and all you’re good for is this,” she rams her fingers into their limit, “so lay still and take it, pretty bird. Huh,” she rocks her hips against the back of her hand, as if she’s thrusting into you, “take what I give you.” 

You close your eyes and let her do it. Your legs fall away from her and you splay helpless before her. She keeps on as her voice rises and peaks. She growls and slows down. 

“Mmm, sweetie,” she pulls her fingers free and brushes them up your body. “Taste how fucking dirty you are.” 

She shoves her fingers into your mouth and jams them in and out. You gag and cough but she ignores you. She dips her fingers into your throat, scratching you, and holds them there. You feel as if you might suffocate before she tears them away. 

She lifts herself and crawls over you. She turns and straddles your head. She smothers you with her cunt and reaches to fondle your tits. She tilts against your face and moans. You drown in her assault. 

The door clicks and she hums. 

“Baby, she’s ready,” she hums. 

“Ready?” Steve’s voice rolls back. 

“Oh, yes, she’s very ready,” she snickers. “Mm, yes, baby,” she grabs your chin and sits heavier on you, “drink it up.” 

You sense Steve at the foot of the bed, you hear his steps, the rustle of his clothes. You quiver as you’re trapped beneath Ann. He touches your ankles and you flinch. 

“Hurry up,” Ann demands, “I want to see you inside her. I want to see you fuck her pussy until she can’t stand it.” 

“Ann,” he reproaches as his hands brush up your legs. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait for you to fill her up.” 

Steve climbs onto the bed, pushing your legs open around him. He feels along your folds and circles your entrance with his thick fingers. He moves to push his tip along your cunt and slips inside slowly. Ann snarls and bucks against your face. 

“Mm, almost there, baby, I wanna cum as you fuck her,” she puffs. 

He snaps his hips and your body contorts. You reach out blindly, flailing, and he grips your hips to keep you still. He thrusts against and you whine into Ann’s cunt. She grabs your wrists and puts your hands on her thighs. You grasp at her as Steve fucks you. 

She leans over you as her voice tinkles in short gulps and gasps. Her hand traces down to your stomach and she moans. You feel her cumming as she soaks your face in her delight. 

“That’s it, daddy, you fuck her. Fill her up good.” 

You spasm as he hammers into you harder and harder. Ann lifts herself on her knees and leans in to kiss him. He welcomes her as she as good as sits on your chest. They continue to kiss sloppily, noisily, as his hips keep pumping. 

“Baby,” she rasps, “I wish it was me,” she babbles, “I wish... I wish I could give you what you want.” 

“Mmm, fuck,” Steve growls and yanks her down your body. He pushes her so she’s flat over you, crushing you as her head hangs back next to yours.  

He pumps into you as she pushes his fingers into her cunt. She groans and writhes atop you. You shrink down into the mattress as you’re forgotten for their lust. 

Your eyes well over and spill out. You close them and turn your head. This isn’t what you want. You hate it and yet you can’t stop it. You have no where else to go. No one else who wants you. Not anyone better than them. 

Steve quakes and roars as he cums. He coats your walls as he rocks out his last few strokes and he falls forward over Ann and you. You can’t breathe beneath them. 

He slips free and rolls Ann with him as he falls onto his back. She snuggles into him and he reaches over to spread his hand over your stomach. You look down at his touch and shudder. 

“Sweetie,” he flutters his hand up to your chin and makes you look at him. “You’re gonna be such a good mommy.” 

Your lashes flick and you recoil, “what?” 

“Yes, baby,” he pushes his hand under your head and pulls you closer, fingertips digging into your skull. “You’re going to give us the best gift of all. Avery and Harper will be so happy to have a baby sister.” 

“Or brother,” Ann adds. 

“Mm, yes,” Steve agrees, “and we’ll all be a happy family.” 

“I... I...” you stutter and gulp back another wave of tears. 

You want Steve. You don’t want Ann and you don’t want a baby. But Steve doesn’t want you. He wants a baby. 

None of this is what you dreamed off. It’s all so twisted. 

You look down at his hand as he rubs circles into your skin and you sob. You can’t have a baby! You can’t. 

It’s not real, it’s not real. None of this is real. No, no, it can’t be! 

You stare at ceiling and the walls close in around you. The gray creeps into your vision and fills your veins. The panic relents and the terror dulls. You don’t want to feel. You don’t want to be. You just want to close your eyes and disappear. 

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Epilogue

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

Prequel is coming in a few months! I haven’t made a Taglist yet and probably won’t start one till I’m closer to publishing. I’ll make a post tagging this series’ Taglist when I’m starting the next one.

Content Warnings - Mentions of fertility issues/miscarriage; death; the end of this series (don’t worry it’s a good ending imo)

Dear Brielle,

A lot has happened in seventeen years. I’ve now lived half of my life without you, mom, and dad. I’ve been thinking about you a lot so my husband Finnick (yes that Finnick lol) said I should write you a letter of all the things I wanted to tell you but never could.

A little over ten years ago we killed President Snow. The districts rebelled and won. The war was brutal and there were times I nearly died, but Finnick pulled me through.

We got married a year later. We never really did the whole dating thing, our friendship just evolved into a beautiful romance overnight. He was there for me after you left and he has been here ever since.

The years since the war have not been easy. I’ve had bouts of seizures that leave me bedridden and ill for days. The doctors said my condition should be worse so I should be grateful. Countless medications and treatments have made slight improvements to my health but the pain will always be there.

Two years after our wedding we almost hit our breaking point. Finnick and I had been trying to start a family for over a year but nothing was working. It was the most frustrating experience of my life post-war and I do not wish those struggles on anyone.

Three years after our wedding, Mags passed of old age. Although we were sad, we were all glad she got to live out her last few years in a free Panem. Johanna decided to move in with Annie afterwards so she wouldn’t be alone. We are still neighbors to this day.

Four years after our wedding, I got pregnant, only to lose the baby a few months in due to a bad seizure. This was Finnick and I’s lowest point to date.

It’s now been a bit over 9 years since I married the love of my life and the father of my child. We were finally blessed with a baby boy, Neptune, 4 years ago today. He is everything I could have asked for in a child; rambunctious, kind, and adventurous. He looks just like his father but acts like his mother.

Two years ago, Neptune’s best friend arrived in District 4. Annie and Johanna adopted a little girl, Jodie, from District 7. Neptune and her do EVERYTHING together. Finnick keeps joking that we should build a tunnel between our two houses so the kids can hang out all the time.

All in all, it’s been a very painful 34 years of existence. Part of me is glad you didn’t have to witness what happened. The other part of me still hopes you’re out there, even though I know you aren’t. I hope that wherever you are, you’re at peace.

Love, your dear sister,

Y/N

Taglist:

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[lunamothmayhem]

Good Night(Wing) Chapter 3 part 1 (the Nightmare) part 1

I'm just gonna post the little bits I finish writing so I don't lose motivation before I finish, cause this is getting bigger than anticipated and taking longer than I wanted to finish writing.

The warm feeling of contentment flowed through his veins, The purring in his chest growing, as the echoes of their siblings, I haven’t seen Jazz in months, laughter filled though his ears. The knowledge that his family was safe and sound in his apartment, Jazz is in college, Ellie and Dan are with CW, Sam and Tucker are with their families, that they knew they where safe and that he’d keep them that way and they’d do the same had him smiling as he let the darkness surround him in the joy-love-safe-warm-protected-happy- he felt from them.

Cold crisp air twirled through hair, carrying the delicate tones of children’s laughter and giggles, the deep baritones of adults chattering and a deep sense of being surrounded by joy. Through the trees lights flashed and sparkled, over top a fairs wheel spun slow. Feeling content and with a smile on his face, he moved towards the smell of buttered popcorn and cotton candy, mixed with the smell of animals outdoors. Walking closer through the trees, blue flyers of some sort danced in the wind, ‘Grayson’ being the only word he caught.

Anticipation curled around him and with a pep in his step he rushed towards the sound of fun and joy, of home, whose home, not my home, never more than a nightmare, almost running into circus goers. Laughter bubbled up and head on a swivel he looked for an old friend. Rushing past clowns, a shudder ran through them, blowing balloon animals he kept an ear out and heard her. A bellowing a triumphant bellow of an elephant from his left, changing direction and almost tripping over his own feet he rushed over.

Tears caught on eyelashes and his cheeks hurt from the beaming smile on his face as he pulled up in front of Zitka, How do I know her name, and he laughed as she reached for them with her trunk.

“Hey girl, I know it’s been a while,” He leaned into the hug, hiding his face against hers as the tears finally broke free, “but are you excited for the show tonight?" No please no, He pulled back and she gave an agreeing hum, before nudging them with her trunk towards the sound of two people chatting behind him. Mom, Dad. A picture of a small figure in a teal suit standing next to a towering behemoth in orange both holding weapons, and an all-encompassing feeling of dread and fear ran through them.

Turning around he sees two adults in matching green and yellow leotards laughing and smiling. The woman had dark brown curly hair hanging around mid-back, her warm brown eyes crinkling up in the corners as she turned towards him. The man’s cobalt blue lit up with sparkles and he crouched down with open arms as he saw him. Not wasting another second, he rushed and jumped into his arms laughing through his tears.

Warm arms circled around him settling on his back and pulling him into a warm chest, falling up and down with every breath his father, not my dad, took and the laughter turned to sobs as the tears kept coming. Burying their face in their dad’s, Not My Dad, shirt they heard their mom, not my mom, who are you, Who Are You, kneel next to them her hand rubbing slow circles on their back.

“Oh, my little Robin, what’s wrong dear?” Pulling his head away from his fathers’ chest, he turned to face his mother, wrong, Wrong, WRONG, and wiped away his tears.

-----------------------

So yeah, still working on this. didn't even get into when freakshow shows up or the nightmare really starts, but I'm getting there, really sorry for the long wait.

This is part of a prompt by @azulhood

[moni-logues]

Kintsugi 8

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 9.4k

Content: Yoongi POV!!, death (Yoongi's granddad), yet more talk about suicide

A/N: un-beta'd!! honestly wanted to call this 'Nostalgia' (based entirely on the Greek, nostos, return, algia, pain) but like, nostalgia is an actual English word now that doesn't really mean that so I couldn't, but them's the vibes!!!

Chapter Seven | Masterlist | Chapter Nine

Chapter Eight – Nostos 

You liked Friday nights at Yoongi’s. For one thing, he was, by far and away, a better cook than you were and food always tasted better when you didn’t have to cook it. There was also the cat (though she did spend most of her time curled up on his bed, ignoring everyone and everything). Somewhere around third was Yoongi himself. 

He cleared his throat and put his spoon down. 

“I think I have to cancel dinners, by the way.” 

“Oh-” you clutched your invisible pearls with a fake gasp and a mouth full of rice, “are you friend-breaking up with me?” 

It was a joke as you said it, but as soon as you heard the words and paired them with Yoongi’s quietness—different from his usual kind—and the way he was fidgeting, you felt a prick of anxiety.  

“I’m going back to Daegu.” 

“Like, moving?” 

You quickly swallowed your mouthful before all the food turned to ash. Yoongi couldn’t leave Seoul; he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. No- 

He shook his head. 

“My grandfather had a fall. My dad called. Said I should go back there.” 

“Oh shit.”  

He shrugged. You reached out and placed your hand over his; he looked at them, your hand and his, for a moment, then he shrugged again and shook his head. 

“It’s alright. I haven’t been back for a while so it’s probably overdue anyway.” 

“How long will you be there for?” 

Yet another shrug. 

“Not sure yet. Depends what happens to my grandfather, I suppose. My dad didn’t say much – never does – so I’m not entirely sure what I’ll be greeted with when I get down there but I’ll stay until he’s back on his feet. No idea how long that will be.” 

You said nothing. You said nothing because you were not going to actually say any of the things that you were thinking; things like ‘do you have to go?’, ‘can’t you just stay?’, and ‘please don’t leave’. You knew he had to go; you knew that you wouldn’t really have wanted him to stay because who stays when their father calls and tells them that his father is in hospital and they need your help? No one good. You knew, also, that you could survive without him, that you didn’t need him to keep you afloat or anything like that. You just wanted him around. And that wasn’t enough to make you ask him to stay when he had to go.  

“Well, I hope he’s ok,” you offered instead. “Do you have to take time off work?” 

“No, I can work from home. For a while at least. I don’t know if they’ll put a time limit on it or just let me keep going.” 

You didn’t like this. All this uncertainty, the indefiniteness of his absence. Some things take a long time to recover from; he could be gone for months. You shivered, even in the warmth of Yoongi’s apartment, with a stomach full of hot stew. 

“What about Cherry?” 

Yoongi was already eating again, the disquiet that had hung over him dispelled now that he’d spat it out, said the thing he had obviously been harbouring uncomfortably all evening.  

“Oh, Namjoon’s going to look after her,” he answered. “She has an automatic feeder and water bowl, so she’ll mostly be taken care of anyway but he said he’ll come over and hang out with her.” 

“Can I?” 

“Can you what?” 

“Can I come and hang out with Cherry, too?” 

Yoongi looked surprised, then amused, and then he got that smile on his face that said he was going to indulge you in whatever stupid thing you were talking about now. 

“Yeah, if you want. I can hardly stop you; you know the codes.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can change them?” 

He rolled his eyes with a grin. 

“Yeah but then I’d have to tell everyone else the new ones... It’s too much bother.” 

“Hear that, Cherry?” you called to the bedroom. “You and I are going to be best fucking friends! Just you wait!” 

“Are you threatening my cat?” 

You threw a napkin at him.  

You stared at your phone. Your still, silent phone. 

“You know a watched pot never boils, princess. Your boyfriend isn’t going to call if you just stare at it.” 

“He’s not my fucking boyfriend,” you snapped back, more viciously than you’d intended. “I thought you’d stopped making those jokes.” 

Taehyung just shrugged. 

“You seem very het up about not hearing from him, that’s all. You certainly never miss my contact that much.” 

“As if I would ever go that long without your contact. I can barely get away from you.” 

“As if you would have it any other way.” 

You were crabby. Out of sorts. Yoongi wasn’t great at keeping in touch over the phone—not even at the best of times and this was certainly not that. You had exercised what you thought was extreme restraint, waiting until he had replied before texting him again (most of the time...), not wanting to bug him while he was with his family, going through something.  

You weren’t one hundred percent sure what exactly it was they were going through because Yoongi’s updates were sparse on detail (like father, like son, apparently), but it was looking likely that you wouldn’t be seeing him again before the end of the year so it couldn’t have been good. It made you sad, that you wouldn’t see him over Christmas, that he had disappeared as the winter had arrived. Did the cold suit Yoongi? Did his cheeks get flushed and his nose turn pink? Did he like the cold weather? The dark and cosy nights?  

You supposed that that was it. That was what was making you miss him all the more: the cosiness of winter is a lot less cosy when you are spending it by yourself. Taehyung was there, sure, but it wasn’t the same. Yoongi was yours. You and he had your own little club; you were dark and twisty. Now you had to be dark and twisty all on your own. And so did he, miles and miles away. You hoped he wasn’t getting too dark and twisty, that things weren’t getting capital-B Bad down there, that his family were supporting him.  

You still didn’t know much about them, about his relationship with them. Yoongi played all his cards close to his chest, but these were on lockdown. You hadn’t known his grandparents were still alive. You weren’t sure exactly how many of them were. You hadn’t pushed him on it. It hadn't seemed to matter much before, though it certainly did now and you wished you had asked when you’d had the chance.  

It was less than 200 miles—not far, not really. You could easily get there and back in a day. But it stretched out long in front of you, this distance. Maybe it was healthy. Or rather, maybe it was unhealthy, your attachment to him. Maybe this would do you good, do your friendship good. It was just a break. Not even really a break—he was still at the other end of a phone. You’d spent so much time and effort getting to a place where you felt self-sufficient, independent, capable; if you couldn’t be those things without holding Yoongi’s hand, were you those things at all? 

You sighed and put your phone in your bag; it was easier not to think about it if it were out of sight. If only the same could be said of people.  

* 

It was weeks before you made your first visit to Yoongi’s almost empty apartment. Regardless of what you had said, it didn’t feel right to go there without him, to be in his space unsupervised. The thought of it made you miss him more, at first, but then he was away for longer and longer and you could no longer remember what his apartment smelt like. So you went.  

You opened the door and shucked off your shoes and jumped half a mile in the air when you looked up to see a tall, dark, and handsome stranger, looking at you with confusion writ large across his face. 

You laughed nervously, a relieved, breathy chuckle and you knew who it was immediately. You pointed at him. 

“Namjoon?” 

“Uh, yeah?” More confused than before. “You... are?” 

“Oh!”  

You introduced yourself, surprised that Yoongi hadn’t let him know you might be coming over (or maybe he just hadn’t believed that you would go). Namjoon responded to your name with a long, knowing ‘ah’. 

“What is ‘ahhh’? What does ‘ahhh’ mean?” 

Namjoon’s dimples made craters in his cheeks as he grinned widely.  

“Nothing! Honestly, nothing; Yoongi has told me about you, obviously. Wasn’t expecting to see you.” 

You didn’t believe him, but you did believe he meant well. He had a kind face, you thought, and he was looking after Yoongi’s cat on a potentially indefinite basis, so that gained him marks, too.  

At the sound of voices, Cherry had skittered, yowling, towards you, stopping with a skid in front of you and meowing plaintively. You crouched down and held out a hand to you, but she merely continued meowing. 

“Wow, she must like you; for me, she usually just disappears,” Namjoon said. “I think she hears people and thinks it might be Yoongi and she’s disappointed when it’s not. I think she misses him.” 

You looked up at Namjoon, aghast. 

“How can you just say that?! You’re going to break my whole, entire heart! Oh god, I’m going to cry!” 

You really almost were. You turned back to Cherry, who was sitting looking sadly at you, and scratched her head lightly. Namjoon chuckled. 

“Sorry.” 

There was a pregnant pause. 

“I guess you miss him, too, huh?” 

“Well, yeah, of course. But I do accept that Cherry has the greater claim to grief.”  

You stood and smoothed your trousers out with lightly sweaty palms. You didn’t usually feel this awkward around new people, but this was Yoongi’s person and you were in Yoongi’s place and he wasn’t there. You followed after Namjoon as he padded back into the living room, Cherry slinking softly behind. He offered you a drink and you hadn’t really intended to stay that long but it felt rude refusing. You made polite small talk and drank your drink quickly. 

“Well,” you began, putting your empty glass on the coffee table. “I came to hang out with Cherry and she has spent the whole time lying on Yoongi’s bed, so I guess I might as well go.” 

Namjoon chuckled and moved to stand in view of Yoongi’s bedroom. 

“Yeah,” he replied. “Yoongi left some laundry and I’ve been switching it out for her, so she always has something that smells like him, but I’m a little worried I’ll run out at this rate.” 

You stopped in your tracks. 

“Namjoon! What did I say about making me cry?!” 

You carried on until you, too, could see into his bedroom and there she was, curled up on a black T-shirt. Coming here was supposed to be comforting, a Yoongi booster, something to tide you over until he could come back, but now you missed him more than ever.  

Namjoon flung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you off-balance. 

“He’ll be back!” 

You couldn’t help falling into his side, letting your head drop. 

“Yeah, not soon enough.” 

[09:27]  You: Merry christmas, bambino!!!  

[09:27]  You: I hope you are able to have a nice day 

[09:28]   You: Remember to eat, drink, and BE MERRY!!!  

[09:28]  You: I miss you!!! 

[10:48]  Yoongi: Merry Christmas :) I hope you have a good day, too.  

[21:20]  Yoongi: I miss you, too 

You were in the supermarket with your mum and sister; they had sent you to find potato starch but instead, you found yourself staring blindly at a wall of breakfast cereals. Your mind was elsewhere and when you first heard your name being called, you assumed it was your family, about to chastise you for not being able to get even one thing right. Upon turning around, however, you saw a different familiar face. Chanmi, whom you met in your cooking classes, who also took the baking classes just like you did. She was newly married and wanted to stop her mother-in-law despairing over her lack of skill in the kitchen. If that hadn’t worked, you thought, the promise of a grandchild certainly would. 

“Hi!” she cried, stopping her trolley nexct to you. “How have you been?! It’s been so long!” 

“Yeah, it really has! Nine months, by the looks of it?” 

You laughed; she had barely been showing at the end of the classes and now, there was absolutely no hiding that she was very great with child. 

“Ugh, I know, I’m huge! She was due on Christmas day, actually; thank god that didn’t happen. I would not have wanted to spend all of Christmas in labour.” 

“Well, sure, but I’m not sure I’d want to spend all of any day in labour, to be honest. I don’t envy you.” 

“I’m in denial,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I know it has to happen but I’m just not thinking about it. I’m hoping she will hold out until New Year’s Eve, that way, when all the fireworks go off, I can scream as much as I like and no one will hear me.” 

You laughed again; you hadn’t kept in touch with anyone from the classes (except Yoongi) but it was nice to see her and nice to see that her life was working out, that she was happy, that things were going just as they were planned.  

“Well, you look amazing,” you told her. “Pregnancy suits you.” 

“That’s so sweet of you. But how are you? How are you and, I’m so sorry, I’ve forgotten his name, your boyfriend?” 

“Uh, I don’t have a boyfriend.” 

“Oh no, you broke up? I’m so sorry!” 

You were confused. You didn’t know who she could be talking about. It wasn’t San. Might she have meant Sungbin? Had you told her about that? You were frowning, trying to puzzle it out in your head and Chanmi spoke again. 

“I’m sorry; have I put my foot in it? I meant the guy in the baking classes with you? Is t-” 

“Yoongi?!” you exclaimed with more volume than was entirely necessary. 

“Yes! Yoongi, that was his name!-” 

“Oh my god, no, he is not my boyfriend!” 

“No?” 

“No! We met in the baking class!” 

It was Chanmi’s turn to lose control of her volume. 

“WHAT?” Her mouth gaped in disbelief. “You must be joking.” 

You shook your head. 

“You met in the baking classes? We all thought you were a couple!” 

“‘We all’? All of you thought we were together? Why?” 

“I don’t know, you just seemed so close. You had chemistry. Then there were the couple of times he didn’t show up and you seemed so upset, we assumed you must have had a fight or something. I don’t know; you just... looked like a couple. Sorry.” 

“No, no, it’s fine,” you replied, distracted now. “I just had no idea we looked like that.” 

She had blown your mind. You were sure you had told people when you started the classes that you had just been broken up with – you couldn’t shut up about it! You told anyone who would listen and some people who wouldn’t. She must have known. So how did Yoongi fit into that? Did she just forget?  

You and Yoongi? Taehyung had been making the same comments, albeit as jokes, for as long as you had known Yoongi and you hadn’t taken a single one of them seriously. And yeah, ok, you did sleep together, but that was a one-time thing, an aberration. Did you really look like a couple? Seem like a couple? Behave like a couple?  

* 

The thought plagued you for the rest of the day and into the next day, too. Your friendship with Yoongi was special, yes. It was different from your friendship with Taehyung, or any of the friendships you’d had before, yes. But it was still a friendship, wasn’t it? Just a friendship. You played films in your head, imagining the two of you in baking class, what you might have looked like to others. You played them again and again, from different angles, trying to see through different eyes. 

All of Taehyung’s jokes rattled around in your brain; he had just been being stupid and annoying. He wasn’t making a point. You didn’t think he was making a point anyway. He hadn’t been serious, at least. He didn’t actually think Yoongi should be your boyfriend. You were sure. You opened your phone and thought about texting him. Then you thought twice. You thought about texting Yoongi, almost as a test to prove that you were just friends. Then you thought twice because he had bigger issues to deal with. You scrolled your short list of contacts and found one that might help. 

[13:45]  You: Hey Taem! You remember Yoongi who I brought to Teddy’s Halloween party? 

[13:49]  Taem: sure, what about him? 

[13:50]  You: Did you think we were a couple? 

[13:51]  Taem: when I first saw you and you introduced me, yeah, I thought you might be. Why? 

[13:51]  You: do you think we COULD be a couple? 

[13:53]  Taem: why not? if that’s what you want 

[13:57]  You: no, I mean... did we seem like a couple? Like, do you think we like each other? If I’d said he was my boyfriend, would you have believed me? 

[13:58]  Taem: I don’t know, I mean.. Sure? I’d have believed you if you said he was your boyfriend, why wouldn’t I? What’s going on? 

[14:02]  You: nothing, sorry, it’s nothing.  

[14:02]  You: thank you 

[14:09]  You: I’m just confused I think 

With Yoongi away, you decided the best thing for it was to just shove all of that into a bag and shove that bag to the very back of your mind. You were friends. That’s all. If that ever changed, well, then you could get the bag back out and have a look at it and see what you thought. If. 

[00:00]  You: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx 

[00:00]  You: STILL MISS YOU!!!! I HOPE YOU ARE HAING FUN!! 

[00:01]  You: HavE A DRINK OR LOTS N MEEE1! 

[00:53]  Yoongi: my grandfather died 

[00:54]  You: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCckkkkkkkk 

* 

[04:51]  You: are you ok? Shit, babe, I’m so sorry 

[04:51]  You: what a fucking terrible way to start the year 

[04:53]  Yoongi: yeah 

[04:53]  Yoongi: not exactly unexpected but not the best timing  

[04:53]  Yoongi: I guess it never is though 

[04:54]  You: 🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂🫂 

[04:55]  You: let me know if I can do anything 

[04:56]  Yoongi: actually I would really like a hug 

[04:56]  You: 🏃🏃🏃 on my way 

Your mother had always taught you not to make decisions after 9pm or on an empty stomach. You hadn’t eaten since 8pm the previous night, nor had you slept, so 5am technically counted as after 9pm. Nevertheless, you were making a decision.  

You rolled into a taxi and stumbled into your apartment. You grabbed an overnight bag and threw in all the necessary items and then a random selection of clothing (whatever was closest and whatever was clean). The you taxi’d to the intercity bus station and got on the first bus to Daegu.  

It was a three-hour ride and you slept through the whole thing, which was just as well because, if you’d been conscious, you might have had time to second-guess this decision, to think better of it, to think it through at all. The driver politely nudged you awake at the Daegu bus terminal and you blinked, bleary-eyed and hungover, dry-mouthed and dry-eyed. You shuffled off the bus with your bag over your shoulder and headed straight to A Twosome Place where you downed one coffee and then another and ate three pastries.  

It didn’t feel right to just show up at Yoongi’s parents’ house in your present state (not to mention that you also had no idea where it was). You brushed your hair and your teeth in the terminal bathroom and washed your face, changed out of your New Year’s party outfit. There was then nothing else to do without getting in touch with Yoongi; you stood in the concourse, feeling a little foolish. 

Yoongi sat heavily in the chair at his parents’ dining table and sighed. It was littered with documents: letters, insurance paperwork, hospital paperwork, bank statements, pension statements, certificates for home ownership, car ownership, some appliance manuals for god knew what reason. Somehow, it had become his job to sort through them. To sort through everything. To organise a funeral, as if he had even the faintest idea how to do that. He couldn’t blame his father- he wasn’t blaming anyone; he just didn’t know how it ended up at his door.  

He rubbed his eyes and picked up a piece of paper; he didn’t expect any government offices to be open on new year’s day so he wasn’t entirely sure what he was supposed to be achieving, but he could try. 

* 

He dropped his head into his hands. It wasn’t as if he didn’t ever think about death, but it was different when it wasn’t his own, when it wasn’t hypothetical, when it was his own family falling apart around him because of it. He looked down at the bank statements in front of him, the pension claimed, the savings dwindling. It made him feel sick. It churned in his guts, this feeling like tar in his blood. He knew he hadn’t slept; he was overtired; he was emotional; it was a difficult time; but he also looked at all this paperwork and thought about how much better off his family would be if he were dead.  

He could sort all this out beforehand, get everything in order. Then he could die and everything would come to his parents. They would be set. No need to wait on him sending money each month; no need to work; they’d be taken care of. His sister, too, of course he’d provide for her. But then that would be it. There would be no obligation, no guilt, no awkwardness between him and his family.  

He took a deep breath. He had to take a break, but how, when he was the only person who would get this stuff done?  

His phone vibrated on the table next to him and he almost ignored it, but then he saw your name on the notification and it was in his hand in an instant. 

[11:02]  You: I'm here 

Yoongi rubbed his eyes. He looked back at previous messages and still didn’t understand what you were saying. He couldn’t believe you were here, as in, in Daegu. You were joking when you’d said you were on your way. He knew that, even though he hadn’t been joking when he said he wanted a hug. You must have meant that message for someone else.  

He put his phone back on the table, content to leave your message unanswered, but then he thought that you might not notice you sent it to the wrong person. He should reply. He looked at the blinking cursor and his mind was blank. He should ask something like, ‘did you mean to send that to me?’ or tell you that ‘I think you meant to send this to someone else’, but he didn’t have it in him. He didn’t want to know what you were doing, who you were meeting. His cup already overflowed with misery, loneliness, a dash of despair; he couldn’t miss you. Rather, he couldn’t engage with the fact that he did.  

There was guilt there, too. He knew he’d been a little quiet, a little distant with you. It was only half intentional. He didn’t want to know what he was missing, didn’t want to acknowledge his life back in Seoul; it made it so much harder to be here, amongst this, being thrown back in time only to find you no longer belonged—though part of him felt like he never did.  

His absence was all around him: in this house he bought but had never visited, in this neighbourhood he had never lived in, these streets he had never driven down. Daegu was a different place now; his family home wasn’t his family home anymore because it had been falling down around them until he bought them a new one, this one, new and bigger with all the mod-cons they could have asked for. He was sleeping in the spare bedroom – a spare bedroom. When he had last lived in this city, there weren’t enough bedrooms to go around and now they had extras.  

All Yoongi could see was the places where he should have fit in but didn’t. The world was so much bigger now than it had been but there still wasn’t a place for him here. 

He kept you, the thought of you, like a secret, and then he let it eat at him at night, when he lay in the spare bed and couldn’t sleep. He looked at his phone, the screen lighting up his face in the dark, and waited for you to message. Occasionally you did. Mostly you didn’t. He knew that was his fault, too; he hadn’t replied so why would you? But he looked all the same; he felt sad and pathetic when he checked your instagram again, unable to decide if he wanted you to have posted or if he wanted you not to have; the twist in his guts was sharp and long-lasting.  

Right at that moment, he knew you’d be better off without him, too. But first he at least had to text you back. 

[11:14]  Yoongi: what? 

[11:14] You:

Yoongi couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He knew that view; he knew that building; he knew where that was but you weren’t serious. This was a weird joke; it had to be.  

[11:17]  Yoongi: you’re in Daegu? 

[11:17]  You: new year’s day special: one hug, same day delivery for the low price of Nothing, It’s Absolutely Free 

With his phone in both hands, he knocked his forehead against it, his eyes squeezed shut against the sting of tears, his jaw clenched. His heart was hiccuping in his chest. So you had come. You had come to Daegu. Because he had said he wanted a hug. You had come almost 200 miles. To see him.  

He took in a deep breath, the biggest lungful he could manage, and then he blew it sharply out again. 

[11:25]  Yoongi: I’ll come and pick you up. Give me twenty minutes or so 

[11:25]  You: no need!  

[11:25]  You: I can get a taxi!  

[11:25]  You: I just need your address 

Yoongi didn’t reply. He didn’t read your messages because he was already putting his phone in his pocket and walking towards the door.  

He took a moment, once he was sitting in his car, to take another deep breath. This felt complicated and confusing and he was overwhelmed. He wanted to sit in a dark, quiet room. He wanted to get in his car, pick you up, and just keep driving. All the way to the coast maybe.  

Then he thought about the beach and that day and he changed his mind. To the north-east perhaps. The forested hills of the Taebaek mountains could hide you both for a while. That might be nice. Everything here felt like too much but the trees and the hills and the coastline, that he thought he could manage. 

He sighed and turned on the ignition, pulling smoothly into the road on his way to you. 

* 

You tapped your phone nervously. Yoongi hadn’t responded at all. You couldn’t go anywhere without some kind of confirmation from him: that he was coming or that he wasn’t. Your messages were unread. There was nothing you could do but wait. Wait and feel a little bit sicker with every minute that passed; your nerves were starting to get the better of you. Your stomach sank lower and your heart fell with it. You should not have come, you saw that now. What Yoongi didn’t need right now was a house guest. What Yoongi didn’t need was someone else to consider, to take into account; what Yoongi didn’t need was you, once again, inserting yourself into his (someone else’s) business. Like you always did.  

It wasn’t about you. It shouldn’t have been about you, but there you were, hungover and probably still stinking of booze, making Yoongi leave his grieving family to come and pick you up. Making it about you. You groaned and put your head in your hands, in half a mind to just get on the next bus back to Seoul. 

And all that was not to mention the bag of feelings you had shoved to the back of your mind. You didn’t know what to expect when you saw Yoongi again. It felt mad to expect that anything would be different just because someone had confused the two of you for a couple; you didn’t know how that could have changed anything but you were scared that it had. Scared that this was a mistake and that you were going to make more, that you were going to ruin this, even without knowing how. ��

Your phone buzzed. 

[11:57]  Yoongi: I’m here. There’s a pick-up zone; I’m parked there. 

The relief almost made you cry. 

You jogged to the car park and spotted him immediately. You knocked on his window and made him get out of the car so you could hug him properly. Your chest felt tight and you closed your eyes, praying you wouldn’t cry, holding on to him as tightly as you possibly could. He held you just the same. Your heart swelled and broke at the same time. It was so good to be back with him and so bad for it to be in these circumstances. 

“Are you ok?” you asked, your voice muffled in his scarf.  

You felt him nod. 

It was you who eventually pulled back and then an awkward silence fell between you. 

“One hug!” you said. “Delivered as promised.” 

“Yeah.” Yoongi attempted a chuckle and rubbed his neck. “I guess you can go back to Seoul now.” 

“Oh, I- yeah, I mean, I can go back, if you want me to go back-” 

“No. I mean, you don’t have to stay, if you don’t want.” 

“Well I can stay, but I don’t want to be a nuisance-” 

“You’re not.” 

“Ok... Uh, so... I’ll stay then?” 

Yoongi nodded and ducked back into the car.  

You looked at him as he drove; he looked pale and tired and skinnier than he had been. He hadn’t been taking care of himself and you knew it was because he was too busy trying to take care of everyone else; that was who he was. But you were there now. You could be a care-taker, too. You might not have had the experience, but you wanted it. You were capable now. You didn’t have to be taken care of anymore, not like before, so it was time to pass it forward properly. That was your task here, that was all. This wasn’t about you, you repeated to yourself. Everything else can go back to the corner you shoved it in for now. It was so not the time. 

* 

Yoongi pulled up to a large house and parked on the road. There were three cars in the driveway. He took your bag and led you up to the door. He opened it silently and slipped off his shoes, not announcing his return or your arrival, but his mother called from somewhere else in the house. 

“Yoongi! Where have you been?” Her voice was getting closer and she soon appeared in the hallway from a room to the left. “Oh, who’s this? Is this your girlfriend?” 

Yoongi took a steeling breath. 

“No, I don’t have a girlfriend.” 

“You don’t? I thought she was a model?” 

“No, we broke up months ago. I told you.” 

“Oh, well who’s this?” 

Yoongi introduced you and you put your best foot forward. 

“It’s nice to meet you; I’m so sorry it’s under such circumstances. I’m sorry for your loss. I’m here to help in any way I can—put me to work!” 

His mother was already distracted, looking to her right; you weren’t sure if she was listening. 

“Could you put some tea on?” she asked, turning sharply to you. 

Yoongi frowned and you could see him open his mouth, so you jumped in. 

“Yeah of course! I’m sure Yoongi can help me find everything, right?” 

You grabbed hold of his sleeve and gave it a light tug. He moved forward and led you to the kitchen. 

It was expansive, with chrome fittings and granite worktops and a double-sink the size of your coffee table. It was bright and modern and so different from what you had expected. You realised that your expectations had been coloured by Yoongi’s childhood, that you were expecting them to still be poor, but of course, they weren’t. Yoongi had seen to that. 

This was a beautiful house, with a large entry way and tiled floors and both a breakfast bar and a dining table. It was the sort of house you fantasised about growing up in as a kid. You wondered how Yoongi felt about it. All this comfort and convenience that he had bought his family. You hoped it made him proud, made him happy that he could do things like this for his family. He should be proud; this house was nothing short of a show-home. Nothing looked out of place, even now, with everything going on. There were no dishes in the sink, no plates or cups left on the sides, nothing lying around waiting to be put away.  

Yoongi indicated which cupboards held what you needed and he filled the kettle. There wasn’t awkwardness between you anymore but there was something. He felt far away. You didn’t know how people dealt with grief, or even death—is it grief when it’s still so close?—and were lucky that you had never had to, but you felt ill-equipped now. Ill-equipped and self-conscious. Of course he wasn’t going to be alone; it wasn’t going to just be the two of you. That was obvious, but you had managed to forget it and you felt inhibited by the presence of his family, everywhere in this house, despite the almost clinical neatness of it. There was no Yoongi there. It wasn’t like his apartment at all. 

You busied yourself with the tea and pushed him out of the way as he tried to do it for you. 

“You don’t have to make tea, you know,” he said, quietly. 

“I said I was here to help and if making tea helps, then I’ll make tea. It’s ok.” 

* 

The next few days were confusing and draining. You had put your foot down and insisted you would stay in a hotel, so as not to put them out; Yoongi had retaliated by putting his foot down and paying for a room in a far fancier hotel than any you would have picked. You tried to be of use, and if not of use, then at least out of the way. This meant you spent most of your time entertaining Yoongi’s niece and nephew; this was easier on the third day, when it snowed, and you made snow animals in the garden and pushed them on taboggans down the hill.  

You didn’t see all that much of Yoongi; the only times you were alone was when he picked you up in the morning and dropped you back at night. You didn’t talk much—he didn’t. You, on the other hand, found that you couldn’t stop.  

“Sorry, I can’t stop talking,” you said on Tuesday as he stopped at a traffic light. “I know I’m being annoying. I just can’t shut up; I feel like I haven’t spoken to you forever.” 

“No, it's ok. I’m sorry I’m not talking more; I’m just tired.” 

“As long as I’m not bothering you.” 

“No. I like listening to you talk.” 

“Ok, then. Good.” 

* 

The funeral took place on Friday; Yoongi explained that it might be more traditional than you were used to. You had never been to any funerals so you had no expectations anyway. You had been tasked with making all the food, for an undetermined number of guests that Yoongi couldn’t guess at and no one else would tell you. You cobbled together an outfit with things borrowed from his sister. You felt out of place. You didn’t feel like you had any right to be there when you went with them to his grandparents’ house, when you watched him and his dad and his uncles carry his grandfather’s coffin out of the grounds, when his father trod on the earth above his father, when his uncle spoke eloquently about what his life had been and meant.  

You hadn’t expected to be moved. You had rather hoped that you wouldn’t be. You were there to be a pillar of strength and support but there was weeping all around you and sadness and grey skies full of snow and you sniffled quietly to yourself, letting your tears fall as gently as you could. A hand snuck into yours, ice-cold fingers pressing into your palm. You turned to look at Yoongi as he continued to stare straight ahead. You squeezed back. 

* 

When he cut the engine outside your hotel that night, he slumped in his seat with his head tipped back. He sighed.  

“Why don’t you come up for a drink or something?” you offered.  

You were exhausted, so you had no idea how he was hanging on. He was already shaking his head but you cut him off. 

“Come on, just a quick one. You look done in, my love. You look like you could use one.” 

He gave in with no further fight and drove around the back of the building to the car park.  

* 

You kicked off your shoes and Yoongi followed you in, sitting heavily down on the bed, staring at his shoes. 

“Come on,” you said, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and loosening his tie. He let you do it, let you lift his arms to get them out of the sleeves, let you slip the tie from under the shirt collar. He watched you, thoughtless, as you knelt down in front of the mini bar and picked a little bottle of whiskey. You dumped it into a glass and handed it to him. 

“Do you want ice? I can get ice,” you offered. 

He shook his head and then tipped it back, downing the drink in one. He didn’t need ice. He needed at least six more of these so he could pass the fuck out. That scraped-out feeling rang in him, hollow, resounding, all his surfaces scratched and sticky with guilt and misery.  

He leant his whole body backwards, flopping onto his back.  

“You know I haven’t been back here since I left?” 

“What, Daegu?” 

“Mm.” 

“Since you left at 18?” 

“Yep.” 

“Wow.” 

“I know.” 

“Not to see your sister’s kids?” 

He closed his eyes. It brought a sour taste to his mouth, acidic and stringent and metallic. 

“No,” he admitted. “I know. That makes me a horrible person.” 

“No, it doesn’t. That’s a long time to be away, though.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Do you wish you’d come back earlier?” 

“No.” 

“I guess this isn’t the best time to come back, is it? Not a happy time. If you come back again later, it’ll be better.” 

You joined him on the bed. You lay next to him and took his hand. It was warm. He could smell your perfume. 

The sigh he heaved next could’ve rumbled the very earth. He knew you were giving him space, to breathe, to think, to gather his thoughts. You were a motor-mouth; that was the very first thing he had learnt about you. You talked all the time, but you always gave him time to think. You didn’t rush him or push him or even comment on his quietness, his hesitation.  

He shook his head because he couldn’t think about you at this moment. He had just about managed to keep that door shut while you had been here because there was so much to do and so much to busy himself with, but now it was just the two of you and you were holding his hand and giving him space and he needed to fill it. With something.  

With another sigh of resignation and an inhale to steel himself, he decided to say the other things he didn’t want to talk about.  

“Coming back has reminded me why I left. I think the money was just an excuse; it gave me a legitimate reason to leave but I think I would have found a way out somehow. Any way. No matter what. Even in a body bag.”  

“Babe...” 

“We really had nothing, y’know? When I was growing up. We had nothing and I was so angry. I hated my parents so much because they couldn’t provide; they couldn’t be what parents were supposed to be. They didn’t do what parents were supposed to do. I was responsible for myself almost as soon as I started school. I was cooking dinner for the whole family every night before I was in high school. That’s not a kid’s role. Kids shouldn’t have to do that.  

“On my drive down here, I felt it all again. The anger. The resentment. I had to pull over and stop for a while to calm down or else I’d have turned the car into oncoming traffic.” 

He’d started so he had to finish but he needed another second. He wasn’t used to saying these things out loud. It made it easier that it was you. It made it harder that it was you. 

“I suppose I'm a black sheep,” he said eventually. “I thought they would never forgive me for leaving, for doing what I wanted to do when they had no choices. I don’t know if they have. I’m not... I’m not really a part of it anymore and that’s my fault; I understand that I removed myself. I got away. I got out. I did what I wanted. Coming back here and facing that, facing them... I’ve been a coward. All this time I stayed away, it’s because I was scared to come back and see what they thought of me.” 

“They love you.” 

“No. I’m not sure they do.” 

“Yoongi.” 

You very rarely took that tone with him, the one that said you weren’t playing and he shouldn’t be either. He couldn’t even think of arguing with you at that moment. He changed the subject.  

“Can I have another drink?” he asked.  

You stood wordlessly and retrieved another little bottle, poured it again into his glass. He drank it in one as he had the first and you returned to his side. There was one thing he still really wanted to say, that was weighing heavily on his chest at that moment, but he knew you wouldn’t want to hear it, knew you would say he was wrong. 

As he felt his eyelids droop and sleep begin to tug at him, he realised he had to get it out, before this moment passed and he wouldn’t be able to step into this territory again. 

“I just really want to kill myself today.”  

You turned on your side, curling into him, and pressed a kiss to his temple. 

“I’m not going to let you,” you whispered. 

“I know.” 

* 

Yoongi fell asleep quickly after that and you did not. You watched him sleep for a while, making sure he was still breathing, as if there were a chance he might just will himself dead. You, admittedly, didn’t know anything about his family but you couldn’t understand how he could suggest that they didn’t love him, that he was a black sheep, that he didn’t belong here. Their house, their cars, the things they had, the three jobs they didn’t have anymore... He hadn’t just given them things; he had given them freedom; he had given them security and stability. Not all people are good at showing gratitude or expressing themselves, but he had to know they were grateful. They had to be grateful, right? 

The minutes ticked by and you were still watching him sleep. You resisted the urge to brush a strand of hair out of his face. You resisted the urge to trace his lips with your finger. You hadn’t had a chance to interrogate yourself, to notice what you were feeling until now. Now that he was asleep, his mouth just slightly ajar, his eyebrows pressed together, you could really look at him. You could really look inwards at yourself.  

You didn’t want to ask yourself if you had overlooked him. You didn’t want to wonder what you might have been missing, not seeing, not noticing. It had been a tumultuous year and you were so proud of yourself for getting to where you were now; you didn’t want to find out you had still been getting something wrong.  

Had you? Was it really wrong to think that you and Yoongi were just friends? What did he think?  

It came back to you again, that thought. That thing that you had been trying to remind yourself of but also occasionally using as a weapon to beat yourself with: it’s not about you. All this time, it had been about you. You were recovering from a break-up, you were seeing someone, you were being broken-up with again, you you you you you. Where had Yoongi been in all this? Right by your side, of course, but where had he been in your consideration? He was recovering from a break-up, too. He had problems, too. He understood you and you had clung to that, sometimes for your very life. You felt your neediness begin to leak out your pores like oil, slick and staining and all over you. You could almost see it spill towards him, a contaminant, making you his problem, too, all your problems his, all your neediness his to carry.  

You got off the bed and changed into your pyjamas; you washed your make-up off and brushed your teeth. You took your time so that you could be distracted and then you ran out of things to do. You looked at Yoongi, still passed out halfway down the bed, his shoes still on. You took them off for him; you undid his belt and pulled it through the loops; you considered him and wondered if you could pull him up the bed without waking him.  

“What are you doing?” he mumbled, voice low and slurred with sleep as you grabbed him by the armpits and tried to pull him towards the head of the bed. 

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m just trying to make you comfortable?” 

You were standing over him, crouched on the pillow on his side of the bed, doing your best to let your weight do all the moving for you. Yoongi sat up and turned around to frown at you, his eyes narrow and the hair at the back of his head mussed. You moved out of the way and he shuffled himself backwards, lying back down with his head properly on the pillow. You settled next to him and he was still frowning at you.  

“Sorry,” you repeated, an embarrassed giggle let slip. 

Yoongi shrugged and turned on his side to face you. 

“Is it ok if I stay here?” he asked, already closing his eyes again and getting comfortable. 

“Duh.” 

* 

You woke earlier than usual and were unable to get back to sleep. What you did not want was more time alone with your thoughts. Definitely not time alone with your thoughts in bed next to Yoongi who was sleeping with a sweet pout on his face and giving you all kinds of confused feelings.  

You picked up your phone and started looking at bus times back to Seoul. You didn’t know if Yoongi would be returning now, or soon, but it felt like the right time for you to leave. ‘Family emergenices’ only get you so much time off work and yours was running out. And you felt like you had to be in Seoul to think things through; that was where you life was; that was where your friendship with Yoongi was; you couldn’t make any conclusions away from home. It didn’t make sense. 

* 

Yoongi slept for a long time. You let him, because he had looked so tired and clearly needed the rest, but you were starting to feel claustrophobic in the room, claustrophobic in your determination to not think about things. You hated the thought of him waking up and thinking you’d left him, but you had to get out.  

You scribbled a note, left it on your pillow and got the fuck out of there. The air was cold and fresh; even the wind, bitter and stinging, felt good. You took deep breaths and tried to follow the map on your phone to a café.  

You reached it but it wasn’t open for another twenty minutes, which meant twenty more minutes in which you had nothing to do but think your thoughts. Desperate to get them out of you somehow, you did something you were almost certain you would regret. 

[10:38]  You: Teddy 

[10:38]  You: what if I have feelings for Yoongi? 

[10:39]  You: Do NOT call me  

[10:39]  You: I CANNOT talk about this 

[10:39]  You: I just,.. 

[10:39]  You: I don’t know 

[10:39]  You: what if I do? 

[10:45]  Teddy 🐻: I don’t know what I can say if you don’t want to talk about it 

[10:45]  Teddy 🐻: but babygirl you are a catch and he’d be lucky to have you 

[10:45]  Teddy 🐻: don’t have a crisis rn. Come home and then you can have one, ok? 

[10:45]  Teddy 🐻: 😚😚😚 

You sighed. You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say, or wanted him to say, but somehow, it wasn’t that. 

* 

You trudged back to the hotel with coffees in hand (one iced for Yoongi; one hot, but rapidly cooling, for you). Yoongi was half-pushed-up when you walked in, having been woken by the sound of the door. It made your stomach flip how small and cute he looked: still pouty, his face a little smushed from the pillow, his hair messy and on-end. He looked at you, trying to place himself, and then you saw his eyes flick to the coffee in your hand and alight there. 

“Yes, I got one for you.” 

He flipped onto his back with a satisfied groan and a long stretch. 

“Thank you.” 

You placed the cup onto the bedside table next to him and he took it immediately, pushing himself into a sitting position and leaning against the headboard. He took a long drink. 

“This is good. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Um, do you need to let your family know where you are? Will they be worried?” 

He shook his head, the quiet satisfaction slipping from it, a tight mask taking its place. 

“No, they won’t. It’ll be fine.” 

You didn’t want to argue with him. You changed the subject. 

“How did you sleep?”  

He nodded as he took another long draw of coffee through the straw. 

“Good, actually.” Then he looked at his phone and grimaced. “Oh, late, too, haha.” 

“I thought it would be better to let you sleep in, catch up a little. Should I have woken you?” 

“No, no, it’s ok. The urgent work is done, I suppose.” He paused, still looking at his phone. “I guess this means I can leave?” 

“I was planning to go back today, actually. I figured I’d get out of everyone’s hair-” 

“You’re not in anyone’s hair.” 

“Well, you know what I mean. I don’t want to overstay my welcome or make a nuisance of myself. I know I’m very good at inserting myself into other people’s business but even I have some sense of manners and propriety.” 

There was a small pause as Yoongi continued to drink his coffee and stare straight ahead. Then he looked straight at you. 

“I want you in my business. I like having you in my business.” 

The nervous laugh that tried to bubble up from your throat got trapped there, and you choked, your cheeks flushing. You were the one who had to look away. 

“Don’t encourage me, babe. You know I don’t need much!”  

You forced your laugh, then, had to make it a joke. Yoongi’s sincerity was unpredictable and disarming at all times, but it was affecting you particularly strongly now.  

“If you want to go, just let me know when and I’ll take you to the bus.” 

You had opened your mouth to respond but he beat you to it. 

“No, wait, you can come back with me. I’ll be driving anyway.” 

“Today?” 

He nodded. 

“Are you sure? You don’t need to stay longer?” 

He was resolute as he shook his head and drained the last of the coffee from his cup. 

“That was quick.” 

He grinned. 

“Yeah, want to get another one? I have to go back to the house and clean up anyway, so we can stop on the way.” 

“You go,” you answered. “I’ll pack and get sorted here. I’m sure you have stuff to sort out and want time to say your goodbyes and stuff.” 

Yoongi shrugged and got out of bed.  

* 

He came back to pick you up later that afternoon. You were anxious at the prospect of three hours in the car with him; you were not skilled at keeping your thoughts and feelings to yourself, but he was the one person you really didn’t feel like you could talk to about this. 

‘Hey, Yoongi, it’s possible that I’m discovering I have romantic feelings for you; what do you think about that?’ 

‘Hey, Yoongi, y’know how I said ages ago that I just wanted to be friends? What if I was wrong and I've actually changed my mind?’ 

‘Hey, Yoongi, quick question: do you think we should be together?’ 

Impossible.  

* 

“Are you ok?” he asked, somewhere around Chungju. 

“Yeah, I’m fine! Are you ok?” 

“Yeah. You’re just... quiet, that’s all.” 

“Oh, no, uh, no I’m fine.” 

“Sorry. I know it’s annoying to be told you’re being ‘quiet’; I get it all the time. Yeah, I am quiet sometimes, y’know? Leave me alone. But... You’re not quiet. Not usually.” 

The weight of his words hit you because you knew what he meant, what he was referring to; you knew that you were at your quietest when you were at your worst. Or maybe that wasn’t what he was referring to, but it leapt into your mind all the same.  

“I’m ok.” 

You toyed with the idea of saying something, not the thing, but circling it, making the smallest inroads into that conversation. You thought about probing him about his family a little more, pushing him to say a bit more about it, to explain why he seemed to feel so bad about them. You wanted to know because you wanted to tell him he was wrong; you didn’t want him to feel excluded from his family, or unloved, or devalued, or unforgiven—even if it might possible be true. You would love, value, and forgive him enough for the lot of them.  

“Do you think Cherry will be happy to see you?” you asked instead. 

He smiled, a genuine, happy smile. 

“She had better be.” 

Chapter Seven | Masterlist | Chapter Nine tags: @chimmisbae, @idkjustlovingbts @miriamxsworld, @quarter-life-crisis2, @tarahardcore, @simp47koreancrackheads, @xyahrinx, @olyd, @diorh0seokie, @thelilbutifulthings

[steviesbicrisis]

@unclewaynemunson Happy birthdaaaaay!! I saw your post about asking for Uncle Wayne related content for your bday and it inspired me to write this little thing! I didn't have a lot of time to work on it, please forgive any mistakes and I hope you like it!!

It's April of 1978 and, for the first time in his life, Wayne has to organize a birthday celebration for a kid.

Or better, "A teenager, I'm not a kid anymore" as Eddie would correct him every time.

It's been two months since he came knocking on his door, accompanied by social services, and things are... awkward at best.

The truth is, Wayne was never meant to be a father. He had come to accept it as he went through life and realized that the best way to not become like his old man was to not repeat the same mistakes he made. One being to have children when you can barely afford to feed them or have any love to give them.

Wayne had plenty of the latter, but lacked a stable relationship and a job that would pay him something bigger than his trailer.

So, being a father was not in his plans, but once he had realized Eddie couldn't have anything better than him, than his trailer park life, he welcomed him with open arms.

But Eddie had some trouble getting used to it.

He would talk to him only if Wayne talked to him first and Wayne, being a quiet old man, didn't do much of the talking himself. He would eat by himself when Wayne wasn't around, go to school by himself, and never left anything of his around (Wayne caught him putting his clean clothes back in the bag he came home with, once).

Sometimes, Wayne would even forget that Eddie was living with him.

So, when Eddie's birthday comes around, Wayne has no clue what he's supposed to do.

He has been giving him food, clothes, a bed, and school supplies, but Eddie doesn't ask for anything else and Wayne doesn't know what he needs.

Does he have friends he would celebrate with? does he expect a birthday party? how much would that cost? is it supposed to be a surprise?

He tries to get some sort of explanation out of Eddie, by staring at him quietly during breakfast, but he only gets a furrowed brow before the kid jumps off of his chair and rushes out of the trailer.

The frustration leads him, a few days later, to Melvald's General Store in the party supplies section.

Melvald’s isn’t a big store by any means but the selections of party hats and cake toppers is enough to confuse him even more and give him an headache.

His salvation comes in the form of none other than Joyce Byers. She must’ve noticed his pained look and decided to save him from his misery.

“I don’t know your boy very well, but I see him when I go get my kids from school” she admits, “he reminds me of my youngest, you know? He has some troubles expressing what he wants but… usually he’s happy with the simplest things. Just ask Eddie what he wants, I’m sure you’ll be fine.

Maybe get a cake, just in case. Kids love cake!”

——

“What is that?” It’s the first thing Eddie says when he gets home, staring at the cake on the table.

Kids love cake my ass Wayne curses Joyce, mentally.

They stare at each other until Wayne grunts a “it’s your birthday”, looking everywhere in the room but Eddie.

It’s a small “oh” that makes him focus on his nephew’s face.

Eddie is staring at the cake, a mix of emotions in his face that Wayne isn’t able to read.

“I haven’t had a birthday cake in a while. Dad never remembered my birthday."

It's not only what he says, but also the way he says it, with no emotions, like it's a thing he shouldn't be upset about, that breaks Wayne's heart.

Eddie approaches the table, in a way that funnily resembles a wary cat, and sits down in front of the cake. He doesn't say anything but stares at Wayne expectantly until he understands he's supposed to light up the candle on top of the cake.

"Do I have to sing you the song?" Wayne wonders, out loud.

"Please don't" Eddie is horrified.

Wayne gives him one mischevulous look before he starts to sing "Happy birthday to youuu" while Eddie covers up his hears and pleads him to stop.

Wayne was never meant to be a father, but he became a great one nonetheless.

[must4rdmha]

~Mustard’s (fanmade and angsty) backstory~

I have been asked to post this for a very long time,so I’m so sorry for making you guys wait 🙏. I have been really busy this last months so I really haven’t been capable of posting as fast as I did so. So…Maybe this post is my apology and my thanks for the 100 followers! Hope you guys enjoy it.

Related content:

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⚠️Warning!⚠️

This post has/ has mentions of:

-Child abuse

-Angst

-Swearing

-Trauma

-Abandonment

-Domestic violence

If you feel uncomfortable reading this I recommend you to don’t read any further of this post. But please, don’t leave any negative comment.

6 year old Mustard’s pov/ thoughts:

It’s 3 p.m of the evening, I have already finished school for today and I’m heading home, the only problem is that it’s raining, a lot, so I’m soaked from head to toes. That is making my whole body to feel like it’s freezing.

Except for my hands, they are the only ones warm because of the gloves I wear for helping my quirk to be more controlled. Either way, they are still kinda annoying… With them it is difficult to write,to grab my chopsticks and to read! And I have to clean them every day because if I don’t they start to get sticky, and my books get dirty…

I already arrived home, no one is here, just like always. I leave my shoes at the entrance and I go to the kitchen to see if my mom has left any food for me prepared.

Nothing, just some beers at the top of the fridge’s shelves.

I close the fridge’s door, there’s nothing I can eat that isn’t condiments or a rotten lemon at the bottom of the fridge. I sigh.

I sit on the floor,still soaked, trying to think about what should I do now,until I hear how the door starts to open. I stand up.

It’s my mom. When she gets in she closes the door behind her, I approach to her with curious eyes. She looked tipsy and she was laughing.

I asked her if she brought food.

“Not now” she answered,not noticing I was soaked neither starving, while approaching to the landline phone we had and she started to call someone while lighting a cigarette and starting to smoke it.

I approached to her again,while she talked with some friend,because she couldn’t stop laughing.

“Oh my god, won’t you ever shut up?! I didn’t bring your fucking food, I’m not your maid.”

I stepped away, swallowed after being shouted and went to my room. Grabbed one of the WW1 books I took (lent) from the library and started reading it,while I hear my mom talking noisily with some vocabulary I don’t understand because I don’t know it’s meaning, until I hear how the door opens again.

It’s my dad.

The only good thing I have earned from him is knowing what the WW1 is. Maybe that was the start of my huge fanathism.

The noisy tipsy talk stops, but the fighting begins. The shouts begin, the loud noises begin, the incoherent arguments begin, the bruises on my mom’s skin begin…

This happens 1 time per week minimum, but hey, it’s alright, I’m used to it.

Except when they involve me.

“KID, COME HERE NOW”

Kill me,someone, please.

“Why the fuck didn’t you call me when your mother was drunk?”

And it all starts again

“Oh, shut up”

“Don’t tell me to shut up,you fucking whore!”

It’s like a loop,isn’t it? An exhausting and noisy loop, that will only just finish if you stop it in a nice of in a bad way.

Is this an example?

“…Oh my god”

Or is it not?

“W-What did I d-do?!”

Throwing a plate at your six year’s old child is an example of breaking a loop? Or is it just an easy way of getting rid of a problem?

Maybe it will help you,but it will help your child?

“…I can’t with this anymore”

Will your child be happy after that?

“I don’t want this child”

Will your child have physical bruises after that?

“Are you leaving?”

What about emotional ones?

“I don’t want this child either!!”

And if they end up having, will they have someone to rely on?

“Don’t leave without me,you idiot!”

And what if they don’t?

One day later Mustard woke up. He found himself laying on the floor with his face itching and his body aching. He washed his face and put band-aids on all the wounds he had because of the plate. He picked up every piece of the broken plate and then grabbed the mustard condiment bottle out of the fridge and sat in front of the TV,turned it on and started to watch a ww1 movie.

A week later some police officers found him, they were called by the school because he hasn’t been going to class in a week and no one answered their calls. When the police found him he was sleeping on the couch,while the tv was on and some bottles of condiment finished over the floor. He had his clothes stained and he looked pale because of the lack of healthy food.

After that, he was sent to a hospital,then to an orphanage. He was adopted by a guy that ended up being a child abuser. He adopted kids just for the money that the government provided for the adoption of a child, this money was spent on drugs and beers.

Mustard wasn’t one of the most hurt children, but sometimes he left his house for going to school with his nose bleeding or a black eye.

The teachers didn’t give a shit about this, and he wasn’t really that sociable so he slowly started to talk less and to stay quiet.

Until one of the children of his household was brutally killed by their “father” in front of them.

After that he ran away of everything and everyone.

1 year later (he was currently 13)

“A 34 year old man was arrested because of murdering brutally his adoptive 15 year old children and because of abusing his 7 adoptive children too. Right now 3 of the 7 children are missing. If you have any information,please call at th-“ the reporter’s voice was shut because Mustard turned off his phone with widened eyes. He left his phone aside and laid on the floor,surrounded by 2 corpses of 2 guys that dressed like if they were in a gang. One of them had their stomach opened,the other one it’s chest. Their bodies didn’t start to decompose yet .

The room was small, it had a desk, on top of the desk there were 2 guns and a heart from the gang guy.

His phone started to rang.

— “Hello?”

— “Hi kid! It’s me,Giran”

— “What do you want”

— “Just wanted to tell you that I have talked with Shigaraki about you, he seems interested about you. The only thing that he asked me about is-“ He was interrupted.

— “My age?”

— “Exactly, but I told him you are someone who’s really mature and responsible. He wants to meet you with more other people this weekend. It looks like you’re having your first mission.”

— “…Alright,seems fine. Anymore details?”

— “I can’t tell more, but-“

After hearing that he hung up, but started to smirk while looking at one of the bodies.

“It looks like I’m not that weak,huh?” He said to one of the corpses,before punching it’s face.

~La fin~

(For now)

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I’m so sorry for it to be that short, but I really didn’t know how to extend it more :,)

I hope you guys liked it, and again, tysm for the 100 followers 🙏.

-🌬️🌪️(ooc)

[jokeringcutio]

Imagine: Reader & Arthur Shaw Joining the Search Party

Imagine: Albert Shaw X (Teacher) Reader Warnings: 18+ content, Non-con, Kidnapping. Fandom: Black Phone.

Written for @myers-meadow. Note: I started a ficlet/oneshot. But I wasn't happy with the way it was turning out. So I tried an imagine instead and wanted to post that one before I give the other idea a go again. Hopefully, you'll still like it <3

Imagine: Being on the Search Party with Albert Shaw

When your father was offered a job, the whole family relocated to Denver. You were looking for an internship and found one offered at Denver’s local school. Naturally, you took it.

A few months after moving to your new house and the new job, the first kids started to disappear. And you started to worry about your own class. They were slightly younger than the kids taken by the now infamous Grabber, but with a man like this on the loose, you never knew.

And so you became more and more protective of your kids.

You wouldn’t let any leave the school on their own and encouraged them to travel in groups. Sometimes, you even brought some of the kids to their houses if they had no one to travel with.

You were a good teacher. Fresh on the job, but passionate and concerned. You thought of everything.

When another boy went missing, the local residents decided to assemble search parties.  Of course, you were joining them.

Everyone gathered in the local gym. You helped your parents prepare lunch bags for those who joined the search.

It was your mother who pushed you towards a man named Albert Shaw. He stood behind one of the tables and was handing out the bags. “You can help him,” she said. “Albert Shaw is a very nice man, and he could use a pair of extra hands.”

You were instantly smitten. Just the sight of the man brought butterflies to your belly and heat to your core. He was older, by far. His dark hair already graying at the temples, slicked back not by gel but because he had been wearing a baseball cap. You could see the item discarded at the side of the table.

After you handed him the bags, you watched his strong arms as he evenly distributed them on the table in front of him. The way those muscles twitched. You were salivating by the time he was done. It was sinful that a man like him, wearing an ordinary shirt with short sleeves, could look this attractive.

And you scolded yourself internally for staring a bit too long at his arms, and for blushing right after.

He caught your stare. You could tell by the way he smiled – there was a hint of mischievousness to it. And then he asked you if there was anything else you needed of him.

Embarrassed, you stuttered that you wanted to help. And he let you join him at the table, handing out bags together. It was comfortable around him, even though you felt a little painful pang in your chest when you watched the rings on his hands. Was he married? You shouldn't be getting any fancy thoughts avout him. You were pretty sure he wasn't for you.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Albert murmured. You were certain it was just supposed to be a normal, polite, and kind conversation. Yet you couldn’t help but shake the thought that the way he said it might mean something more. That he was interested in you? Surely not.

You told him about the move, that you didn’t know that many people yet. That you still lived with your parents but worked as a teacher.

He admitted to have met your dad a few weeks ago. That he heard him talk about his clever daughter.

And then he started to ask one question after another about you and your life.

The whole interaction was nice, but it left you with a bitter aftertaste. Albert took every opportunity to give you compliments that made your heart swell and made you think he might be flirting with you. But then he would remark about your age, to you looking younger than you were, and you thought, surely not.

You’d felt great at the time because of all of his attention. But after, it had felt like there had been something off.

Just like your parents, you joined in the search. You had signed up the moment you could and joined a little group that would head into the woods surrounding Denver.

When the group was about to leave, that was when Albert came rushing over, requesting to come along. Your party leader allowed it, smiling and happily thanking Albert for his help.

“You’re always such a big support to our community,” he had said, gesturing for Albert to come along. “A pillar to Mr. Yamada as well.”

Apparently, Albert knew the missing kid’s father. He told you Yamada was part of a group of friends of his that he would hang out with. They would go bowling and hold barbecues. Have a beer.

You noticed how Albert stuck close to your side. And soon the two of you were talking about all sorts of things. Until you noticed the party had somehow split and you had lost sight of the others.

You had ended up with Albert alone.

He led you deeper into the woods, until the trees grew tall and the area became dark. Shadows covered the two of you.

His compliments became more obscene, but there was nowhere to go to. You didn't know your way around here and you feared you might be lost.

He said he thought he saw something, and you were brave enough to walk closer to the spot to have a look. Nothing.

But when you turned around, your heart nearly stopped.

Albert had donned a mask. A demonic one.

You asked him if he was okay? If this was his idea of a joke? But Albert was darn serious.

He wrestled you to the forest floor – honestly, there was no real competition. If his height hadn’t given him enough leverage over you, then the fact that he was much stronger than you would have done the trick. Any attraction you might have felt for him was suddenly gone and replaced with a cold dread when you felt his hands tightly upon your arms, his fingers were digging into your skin, leaving bruises.

He ripped open your blouse and shoved aside your bra. Twigs and leaves got stuck in your hair and between your fingers, but you couldn’t push him off.

Despite your struggle, he overpowered you with ease and he pushed your panties aside.

The thick fat tip of his cock was weeping when it was pressed between your folds, pre-cum smeared at your entrance.

You tried to push him off of you, hands against his arms and his chest, but he merely grunted. And even if you did not see his face, you could see the pleasure in his eyes. He was enjoying this, the bastard.

He thrust deep inside of you. Just one firm thrust. It made you gasp and cease your struggle. Your voice was hoarse from calling for help; calls he quieted with his hand while he started to thrust into you, up and up, deeper and deeper, until your back slid against the forest floor.

He made you feel dirty. His belly pressed against yours, his knees trapping you by the waist, his cock thrust hard into you. You could not help the little noises you made, from pleasure, from pain, a mixture of them both.

He chased his release without giving a damn about yours, and when he came, it was with a long grunt. Your eyes grew wide, knowing he was about to let you go. Right?

“Such a shame,” you heard the moaned whisper in your ear, “such a pretty little teacher. Ah well, the kids will have to do without you.”

He made you scream, the can of helium close to your lips. Then you lost consciousness.

~ * ~

There you were, the happy, pretty new teacher. Locked up in a basement.

It didn’t take you long to figure out the man who kept you here was Denver’s Grabber.

A man who took pleasure in watching you as you taught the innocent victims he took home with him. Knowing they’d be dead sooner rather than later. A waste of your talent – though he thought that it would be a waste if you never used your teaching skills on any kid ever again.

Right after he took you away, he was absent for nearly a day.

“Guess who we’ve been looking for?” he crooned, the missing poster with your photo on it was teasingly thrown in front of you.

“Found you. And you know what they say, finders keepers.”

Your new life in Denver didn't pan out the way you had planned. You're Albert's play thing now.

[leebrontide]

Secondhand Origin Stories, Chapter 9

Here's this week's chapter! Reblogs welcome!

For those of you just joining us, I'm posting a chapter a week of my free near future scifi/low neon cyberpunk YA/NA novel, Secondhand Origin Stories, which has been described as

"-a character driven, compelling story full of family, queerness, corruption, brain altering nanites, secretly teen parenting AIs, and taking aspects of the superhero genre to their very human and rarely-explored natural conclusions."

For content warnings and more, check here:

You can follow along by following #SHOSweekly

Chapter 9

Martin’s voice in the elevator was enough to put Opal on edge again. The unexpectedly plush chairs of the clinic waiting room weren’t enough to fix it. The staff here all seemed so grim, somehow. And up this high, the sound of the storm blanketed every other noise with the static, as if it was keeping secrets in the constant shushes of rain and the grumbles of thunder.

She’d settled on calling her mom. Mom’s ridiculous sheep-patterned pajamas and her enthusiasm for Shani’s history project helped. Apparently Opal would be getting a lengthy account of it whenever she managed to reach Shani between summer sleepovers. 

“Everyone still treating you all right?”

Opal smiled, trying to get comfortable. “Aldis and the guys have been great. You got the pictures I sent you of the VIP suite? Oh! Did I tell you Capricorn said he thinks I have grit? And Helix agreed with him.” She couldn’t mention the rest of it-- not here, at least. She couldn’t make up her mind what she really should say. 

“Oh, baby, I’m so proud of you. Are they as handsome in person as on TV?”

Opal laughed. “Mom. They’re all like, 40 and up.”

“And that might as well be a hundred to an 18-year-old. Yeah, yeah.”

“Hey, have you--” 

“I still haven’t heard from your dad. I promise I’ll let you know the minute I do. But you know how this goes. Any little thing.” And they’d revoke his phone “privileges.” It’d been months, once or twice before. Then he’d reappear, looking a little older, a little less steady, chastising Opal for having worried. She hadn’t gotten any letters, either. It was never good when he couldn’t even send letters. But she’d sent hers. She hoped he got them. 

She glanced up as a familiar figure ghosted through the edge of Opal’s line of sight. “Jamie?” Jamie turned, looking haunted. “Hey, Mom. I’m sorry, but I’ll call you later, OK?” 

Martin had said there was a family emergency. If Jamie was down here, it must be a bad one. 

Jamie was, impossibly, paler than usual. She seemed almost blue. Her posture was hunched, as if she was expecting to have to bolt at any second, with her elbows pulled in tight against her body. She also seemed to be by herself. “Hey, are you OK?”

“I’m trying to find Issac’s doctor, but they just keep telling me to go wait with…I need to tell them what happened with Issac. I’m the only one who was there.”

A nice, straightforward request. Opal stood, flagging down the nearest medical professional who didn’t seem to be rushing. She put on her most professional tone. “Excuse me. Ms. Tillman-Voss needs to speak with the treating physician for Issac Tillman-Voss right away. She has important information relevant to his condition she needs to share.” Hanging around Mom’s job when she was little had given her a few tricks, at least.

The woman nodded, and led them to a nurse’s station before disappearing to find the doctor. 

“Ms. Tillman-Voss?” Jamie asked under her breath. “I think they think you’re my bodyguard now.”

Bodyguard? She’d been going for PR intern. “Whatever works,” she muttered back. 

Jamie’s smile was tiny and wobbly. “You do look really grown-up in that.”

“You look like you’re going to faint. You’re not, are you? My mom’s a nurse, but I am very much not.”

“No. I need to talk to the doctor.”

“Are you going to faint after that?”

“I hope not. They won’t treat me here. I’m not altered.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure if LodeStar’s kid faints in their waiting room, they’ll pull something together.”

Jamie muttered under her breath, “Not sure he’d care.”

That didn’t sound good. The doctor showed up before Opal could ask, and then she was too busy keeping up with the story Jamie was telling. Every bit of which sounded 100% illegal. By the end of it, Jamie’s voice was painful to even listen to, it was so high-pitched and breathless, but Jamie pushed through. She even brought them a copy of a thesis Issac had written on the subject. It’d be impressive if it wasn’t so horrifying. Brain-changing nanites? You didn’t have to try to think of all the ways that could be misused.

The doctor rushed off as soon as Jamie was done. 

Opal was hit with more doubt than she’d ever had before. What and who had she gotten mixed up with? OK, the Sentinels as a family struggling to cope, she could understand. But a family that attempted to cope by developing more and scarier technology, and testing it on themselves in secret?

Then again, that was how Bion had started. But that was back before altering tech laws had been around. Issac must have known what he was doing was illegal. He should even know why it needed to be illegal. His family took down people conducting illegal alterations all the time. 

But maybe those rules didn’t apply to their son.

She shivered. Exactly how many rules didn’t apply to them?

Jamie didn’t notice Opal’s existential crisis. She was staring down the hallway towards the handful of private waiting rooms like she was expecting a firing squad. She took a tiny, unconscious step backwards, towards Opal. 

And all Opal could remember was Jamie’s comment that nobody would even notice another couple of bruises on her. All three of the kids seemed incredibly isolated. How many laws could the Sentinels get out of?

Opal put a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. Leaned in to ask quietly, “Are you OK?”

Jamie didn’t look at her. But she pressed her lips so tight they almost vanished. Her eyes were pink. She shook her head, still staring down the hall. 

Maybe it was nothing. Jamie’d had a terrible morning by anyone’s standards. 

Maybe it wasn’t nothing. 

Jamie started, looking at Opal. “My dad! He needs a doctor, too. If he’s in the waiting room, then they must not know. His collarbone’s broken.”

“What? How did that happen?”

“Yael.” Jamie said, flinching as she realized too late that that was bound to beg questions. “There was a-- xe was afraid he-- but that doesn’t matter. He needs a doctor!”

This time it was even easier to get someone’s attention, but Jamie was a lot lighter on the details. She didn’t even mention Yael. Whatever had happened, she was less likely to explain it than she was Issac’s breach of international laws. Nobody pressed her for more details. Doctors rushed to help the injured superhero, and Opal and Jamie stayed put.

Neil Voss passed by a few minutes later, escorted by a nervous-looking medical person and Capricorn. Capricorn looked grim, and had a hand on LodeStar’s arm. LodeStar ignored Opal completely, his attention stitched tightly to his daughter as he passed. Neither of them said anything to the other. 

Jamie watched him with her own intensity, and a disquieting stillness. LodeStar looked half possessed. His eyes burned blood-red where the whites should have been. His steps were unsteady and slow, but the muscles in his shoulders were coiled, prepared to strike, his hands working themselves into huge metallic fists. Flexing again. Stretching, as if he was imagining grabbing something. Opal had never seen anyone more terrifying in her life. 

He was cordoned off in another room after what felt like an eternity. The two of them both exhaled at the same time. 

Oh God. Opal was in a Gothic novel. And the head of the house was as powerful and utterly unhinged as any she’d ever read. And she’d spent the last...more than two weeks now, trying to move into his house, work under his orders? This was not going to work. She could never trust the orders of someone like that. She could never hurt or arrest anyone on his say-so. She didn’t even want to be in the same room with him.

She’d go home. Go back to Detroit. Save up, and try another team, later. They couldn’t all be like him, could they?

Jamie sat suddenly, barely catching a chair instead of landing on the floor. She was struggling to catch her breath.

Shit. None of the doctors had even looked at Jamie. No one was going to check in on what was happening in LodeStar’s home. What made Jamie look like that? What drove her brother to experiment on himself, rather than have something he might see as a vulnerability in that household?

Opal reached for the only failsafe she could think of close by. “Hey, maybe we should go find your mom?”

Jamie cringed, but nodded, dragging herself back upright. Opal followed close behind, hoping to find some kind of resolution.

* * *

Issac drifted in and out of consciousness several times. Reality had turned slippery, and even awake, he couldn’t seem to grasp hold of it. This time, when he woke, the ground under him felt a little more solid. Time felt a little more linear. 

He kept his eyes closed, trying to shut out reality. Trying not to notice what he couldn’t detect. He tried to focus inward. His mouth and tongue hurt, as if he’d cut them. A seizure, he remembered. Someone had told him he’d had a seizure, one of the other times he’d been awake. He must have bitten himself. His mouth tasted like blood.

He shifted his attention again, but his body was no refuge. His pulse was speeding; his back hurt like hell. There was a needle in his arm. His torso was canted upwards. Another hospital bed. 

More missing monitor noise. 

His mind had never been good at silence. He’d never been able to get it to shut up. To stop noticing. 

Then again, at least it was still working right. At least he did still notice things.

At least he’d woken up. 

Tears pricked at his closed eyes. He’d failed. Air escaped his lungs unevenly, and he sucked it back in, straining against ribs that whined about it, just like the last time. 

Whoever was in the room with him-- there must be someone-- didn’t notice his tears or any unwanted noises. There was no touch to his hand or face. No anything. If he wanted something, he’d have to signal it. He’d have to open his eyes and face whoever was there.

He pried open crusty, itchy eyes. This time, his vision landed first on his own paper-clad lap. 

There was a card in his hand in unfamiliar handwriting. Issac - you have had a seizure. Some confusion is normal. It will go away in a while. Please stop trying to remove the monitoring equipment. Your family will return soon. 

Soon? None of them were even in here with him? He looked up.

There was a man in the room. He was wearing a three-piece suit in brownish gray, with graying, sand-colored hair, and a severely bleached smile plastered on his face. He was sitting in the chair between Issac and the door with his ankle on his knee. As if this was a perfectly normal way to meet someone.

This was not a doctor. 

Issac gasped as his vision developed sudden spots. Black fractured the image in front of him. 

It was text. Good afternoon, Mr. Tillman-Voss.

Issac was wearing contacts. Revulsion rolled through him. He wanted to pull them off. He couldn’t stand the thought of touching them. Either the stranger knew he had them, or he thought Issac could hear. The man stood, still smiling. He reached into his blazer pocket, producing a little slip of paper. He walked the few paces between them, holding it out. A business card. Before Issac could read it, more text crowded the image out. I’m Frank Lasansky of Lasansky Security Technologies. Sorry if I’m catching you at a bad time.

A bad time? Issac wasn’t even wearing pants. How did these contacts end up on his eyes? Where was his family? I heard a while back about what happened to you and I think that’s a shame. Just a real shame. Still smiling. Issac would have punched the guy if he was more confident in his ability to stand up without falling down. There was something off about him-- a fakeness that went beyond his over-bleached teeth. Issac took the business card, but kept watching the man’s face.

It didn’t move right. Some kind of partial paralysis? 

And I thought, there’s a young man I’d like to meet. And my lucky day, I come to find out you’re in this very building when I am! Well, I couldn’t pass up an opportunity like that, could I? Huh? Right?

Issac didn’t know what else to do, so he shook his head “no.” Did this guy not know Issac lived in this building? How could he possibly not know that? It was Sentinel Plaza.

Lasansky. That name was familiar.

The weird smile stretched wider. Great! Glad to hear it. Because I am just dying to chat with you about those nanites of yours. Issac went cold. The nanites. He must be from the APB? Maybe he was here to take Issac away. Issac felt an irrational urge to check to make sure all his arms and legs were still attached. That they hadn’t been replaced with weaker models. He knew better, and he was being watched. Now, I already heard that this trial didn’t work out. That’s why I took the liberty of providing you with some hardware to help us out in our little chat. He tapped the space next to his eye, looking pleased with himself.

Issac recoiled. He would have assumed that either his parents or a nurse had put the contacts on him. That would have been bad enough. But to think that this random businessman had been touching Issac while he was either asleep or too out of it to have a say sent a spiky, electric chill up his spine. OK, he had his legs, but it felt that much closer to Jenna's fate, all the same.

Lasansky continued, either oblivious to Issac's alarm or electing to ignore it. But hey, these things happen. You can’t get it right on your first try every time, right? Issac wondered whether he was supposed to shake his head again, but this time Lasansky didn’t wait. I want you to know I’m not going to judge you for that. You know? I want you to hear that it’s not your fault. You didn’t have backup. No support. No team. 

Issac's horror ebbed a little, and he tried to shove it down faster. Don’t think about his eyes. This was obvious, and well-thought-out, flattery. This total stranger knew exactly what Issac wanted to hear. The polar opposite of what he’d be forced to sit through whenever his parents showed up to replace the stranger. 

Why was he flattering Issac?

Issac studied the man. The suit was high-end, and almost perfectly tailored, but cut a little too big in the shoulders. There was the smallest of silver roots visible at his hairline. His hands looked noticeably older than his face.

Ah. His face. He’d had too much Botox, too many face-lifts, or both. That’s why his expressions seemed off. Everything about him was pretending. 

Lasansky. Lasansky. He knew that name.

But a little birdie gave me some good news. Word on the street is, it’s your biggest birthday today! He leaned in conspiratorially. Issac leaned in, too, as if it mattered what volume the man spoke at. You’re a free man, Mr Tillman. The world is your oyster.

A free man. So, not arrested, anyway. Lasansky stood. Now I know this is irregular, God knows it’s not usually how we run things at Lasansky Security International, but you, young man, are special. I couldn’t run the chance of them squirreling you away in the attic all alone without my having spoken to you, first.

Of him being sent away like Jenna. 

Mr. Tillman, I am here to make you an offer.  Because the problem with working for the family business is, you have to work for your family! You have to be the baby at work and at home. Have your boss at the dinner table. Be constantly surrounded by people who have what they think are your best interests at heart, but who, deep down, can’t appreciate you for the adult that you are! Now the fact that you had to run this all by yourself tells me that they already gave you the vote of no confidence. They only see Issac the boy, not Issac the man. But I have seen your patent list, and I am ready to give you my full vote of confidence. I believe in your tech. I believe there’s a need for it, and I believe that with the right support, you can deliver your gift to the world. I am prepared to offer you just that support. 

This stranger-- this fake man in a thousand-dollar suit-- understood. Had grasped the whole dynamic of the situation without ever even meeting Issac. Issac glanced down briefly, thinking, and his eyes landed on perfectly shined shoes with a subtly higher-than-average heel. Trying to look tall.

Lasansky was the head of what had to be a huge, heavily politically-connected company, but even he had to pretend to be taller, healthier, younger than he was. No wonder he could understand Issac’s need to fix himself. Even Lasansky wasn’t high enough in the hierarchy to risk exposing even the smallest, most irrelevant weaknesses, like wrinkles or narrower shoulders. 

Well, even Mom wore tall shoes and sought the occasional nip and tuck, didn’t she? She just wore it better, or maybe invested more. 

If even the people at the top-- everyone who wasn’t altered-- had to protect themselves with artificial health and height, where did that leave someone with an actual weakness?

Lasansky approached the tilted hospital bed. Issac had to crane his neck back to keep watching him. He smiled down at Issac with gleaming teeth. Mr. Tillman, how would you like to join the Lasansky Securities family?

* * *

Time bled by Yael at an agonizing crawl. Xe didn’t know how long xe’d been sitting on the cool tile floor of xyr bedroom, not really seeing anything. Xyr back was still against the door, where it was easiest to hear Papa not coming after xyr, not trying to argue through the door. Xe’d let xyr mind go blank, listening to that silence.

When xyr phone went off, Yael jumped so hard xe banged xyr head against the door. Xe grabbed the phone out of xyr pocket, answering to stop its intrusion. Xe forgot all about Papa for a moment when xe realized it was Issac. Or, at least, Issac's phone.

“Hello?” xe asked cautiously, not sure who to expect on the other end.

Issac himself answered. “Yeah. Uhm. Hi.”

Yael's head dropped back, hitting the door with another bang. “You’re OK. You’re OK, right? Oh my Gosh, can you hear me? You’re on the phone!”

There was a pause. “I…no. I have translation software. I can’t hear you.” 

“Sorry it didn’t work.” And xe was, a little. Mostly, xe was happy he was conscious, coherent and alive. Now they just had to get through the fallout with the APB. Nodiah wasn’t going to be happy.

Issac didn’t even try to hide his discomfort, which was refreshing. “Yeah.” Yael looked behind xyr, as if xe could see through the door. Xe had no idea where Papa was, if he was hearing all of this. “I need your help.”

Yael crossed xyr legs, straightening. Trying not to think about how “helping” him this morning had gone. “What do you need?”

“An escort? I, uhm. I got a job. Just now.” Yael pulled the phone away from xyr ear, and stared at it, baffled. Was Issac actually coherent? “I know that’s weird. But it’s this guy who works with the APB, and he actually believes in my research. Wants to use it to help people.” Official approval! Thank heaven. Issac would be safe, now. Problems were knocking themselves out left and right. 

 “I’m eighteen. I can move out, any time I want to. They can’t stop me. But it’s like… I’ll have to live in just like…a place. Just standard security systems. I’d feel better if you came along, too. You’re almost eighteen. Can you?” A flicker of hesitation. “Will you?”

Yael rushed the phone back to xyr ear, glancing back against the door again. Hopefully Papa hadn’t heard that.

Xyr first impulse was to tell Issac “no.” He was hurt. He needed his family. He needed to be protected, here at home.

Except now, home wasn’t safe, either. He needed safety and family. Maybe Yael really was his best bet for both. Papa wasn’t listening to Yael-- maybe none of the others would, either. 

“On one condition. We have to bring Jamie, too. We can’t leave her here.” Xe hoped Melissa would protect her, but if nobody but Yael saw the danger--

“What? I. But. I mean. If she wants to…You think she would? But she’s sixteen.”

“We have to try.”

“Uh. Sure. Try away.”

“Is…Your mom isn’t with you, now.”

“Obviously.”

“You’re alone?”

“I…I guess they came in earlier. I don’t remember.”

“Have you seen Neil?”

“I guess.”

“Jamie?”

“I don’t remember, OK? Seizures can do that. Just…pack up. I’ll get home when I can to do the same.” He said his goodbyes, which Yael echoed in a haze, then hung up.

Moving out? Xe’d never planned to leave. Xyr room had always just evolved with xyr. This was Yael’s home.

But a home wasn’t such a big thing to sacrifice for your brother and sister. 

Xe heard shuffling outside. Papa’s normally light footfalls were slow and plodding, either because he was just that tired, or to warn xyr he was coming.

The handle beside xyr head turned, and Yael looked over at it as the door tried to shift inward. Yael was more than heavy enough to keep it closed.

Papa’s voice was muffled, but only a little bit irritated. “Yael, I’ve bought you a very large bed, two futons, and an office chair. Why do you insist on sitting on the floor?”

Xe didn’t even bother to pretend to be angry. “I’m being a barricade.”

“Well, stop being a barricade and go back to being my daughter. I need to talk to her.”

Maybe it was just because xe was so upset about everything else, but xe was suddenly annoyed by his misgendering, and didn’t watch xyr tongue. “I’m not your daughter.”

Shit! Yael’d said it before thinking, then realized how Papa would hear it. Xe scrambled to xyr feet and threw the door open.

He was standing there, half turned from the door, his expression a broken attempt at stoicism. He met xyr eyes with a piercing, angry gaze and a mouth that tugged down at the corners, obviously hurt. 

This time xyr blurted words did better. “I didn’t mean it like that! I meant-- ugh. You’ve heard Jamie and Issac use non-gendered pronouns for me for five months now. Take a hint!”

The pain in his expression cleared, some, replaced by sincere confusion. “You never asked me to call you that.”

“I thought it would be obvious.”

“I didn’t want to assume. Sometimes siblings have things they don’t want to share with-- I was trying not to intrude!” He shook his head. “This is absurd. Yael, aren’t we having enough fights today? Let’s put this on hold.”

Surprisingly diplomatic of him, even if he was sidestepping something important to xyr. Xe tried to stay calm. Xe crossed xyr arms. “All right. Which fight do you want to have first?”

Papa replied with an exasperated, but not entirely unamused sigh, and stepped forward. Xe let him in. He paused. “How about the one about how your room looks like you’re afraid of drawers, closets and boxes?”

“Really?”

He shoved over a pile of hoodies and sat on one of the futons. “No.” He rubbed his face. 

The silence stretched out. Papa was lost in thought. Yael collapsed onto the opposite futon, toying with the corduroy.

Finally he looked to xyr. “Which do you want to start with?”

Yael spread xyr hands helplessly, shaking xyr head. Xe had no idea how to untangle all of this. But xe didn’t want him to leave.

Xe didn’t want to leave.

To xyr amusement, he pulled out a coin. He looked at xyr. “Heads, your fight with Neil, tails, the…the other thing.”

Xe nodded, and he flipped the coin, catching it and slapping it to his hand. “Heads,” he announced. 

They looked at each other, bracing for a fight neither of them wanted to have. “Tell me what happened. I won’t say anything until you’ve finished. Just this once.”

Too good an offer to pass up. “Issac was following in his father’s and Jenna's and Drew's footsteps. He decided to fight his limitations directly, and he had the science. He limited the MARTIN sensors and used his nanites to try to repair his audio nerve.” Xe refused to look ashamed. “Jamie and I helped him, and kept his secret. And I am not sorry we did.” That was much easier to say now that xe knew he really was OK. “He has the right to try to better himself.” 

Xe couldn’t read Papa’s reaction, so xe just kept going. “But he had a seizure, Jamie used the failsafe, and we called for help. The EMTs got Issac, and Drew went with them, and as soon as Neil and Jamie and I were alone, he started shouting at her, and then he lunged for her. I intercepted him and tried to make him back off. He wouldn’t. That’s pretty much when you came in.”

Papa might not have interrupted, but now he was shaking his head. “You misinterpreted. You were upset and you misunderstood.”

“How would you know? You weren’t there!” xe challenged. 

“Neil wouldn’t. He adores Jamie. He loves all of you kids.” Yael shook xyr head, glaring daggers at the floor as he continued. “You’ve known him your whole life. You know he would never hurt any of you.”

“I’ve been trying to believe in that, and in him. This whole time I’ve been trying. But he’s not the man I grew up with. That man would never abandon Issac for days at a time like this. Not for any reason. And today-- I’ve seen enough film of your missions to know he can kill with less rage than that. I wouldn’t let anyone looking like that near Jamie or Issac.”

Xe readied for arguments and shouting yet again. Instead, Papa looked distracted and troubled.

Deep down, part of Yael wanted to be wrong. Even hurting Neil unfairly would be better than Neil being a real danger to Jamie. Neil would heal. If he was the person Yael thought xe remembered, he would even forgive.

But Papa had stopped arguing. Xe couldn’t imagine a more hollow victory.

They sat in painful silence for a moment. 

“I…I’ll talk to him. And Melissa,” he promised.

“There’s more.” 

He looked horrified. “More? How could there possibly be more?” Realization dawned. “The phone call.”

“It was Issac.”

“Well then, that’s good!”

Xe nodded, hesitantly. “Yes, that’s good,” xe hedged. “You know it’s his birthday.”

“What a birthday.”

“He’s eighteen. He called me to say he’s not coming back, except to pack his things. He’s moving out. And he sure is Melissa’s son, because he’s somehow landed himself a job since this morning.”

Papa’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious.”

Yael threw up xyr hands. “It wasn’t my idea!”

“Well, tell him not to!”

“When has that ever worked? At least it’s APB-backed, so he won’t get arrested for this morning.”

“He can’t just go out there, alone.”

Here it was. “He won’t be alone.” Yael gulped, but raised xyr chin. “I’m going with him.”

Papa rocketed to his feet.“The hell you are!” All his bombastic energy was back from before. “This is absurd! We had a fight! That is no reason. No. Reason.”

Yael didn’t have it in xyr now to fight about this. Instead, xe kept xyr voice low, which had the surprising effect of making Papa pause. “I know. I’m not going to get away from you. I’m going to protect him. Because he shouldn’t go out there alone.”

“I forbid it.”

“Then be prepared to fight me with real force every single day. Be prepared to break my legs faster than they can heal, because that’s what it’ll take.” 

Papa was visibly repulsed. “This is no time for dramatics.”

“I’m being sincere. I know you don’t have a lot of recent practice with honesty, but try and remember what it sounds like. If you’re not willing to go that far, then you won’t keep me here. And you don’t want to.”

“Of course I want to! You’re my--” Xe had to hand it to him; he stopped before ‘daughter’ this time. He was trying. “Family. And you belong here.”

“Do you want to leave Issac unprotected? Out there? He’s your family. He’s hurt. Are you going to abandon him?”

“This is madness.”

“I told you that I’d defend them. From anyone and anything. I meant that.” Not a hero’s oath, but the one that came from xyr heart.

“What about Jamie?” 

“I don’t know yet. But you’ll protect her, won’t you?”

Papa sank down on the futon, hands over his eyes. “There is nothing about this that I don’t hate.”

“But you will.”

He scowled at the ceiling from behind his hand. “Yes, of course I will.”

Silence swallowed them up, and Yael noticed the rain for the first time. Rain was supposed to cleanse. Yael didn’t feel cleansed, but at least some things between them were out. The inside of xyr head felt a little cleaner for it. 

Eventually Yael commented, “I think that was the quietest fight we’ve ever had.”

“I think I lost.”                          

* * *

“Ms. Tillman-Voss? Your brother would like to see you.” The nurse looked at Jamie and Opal, and all the empty chairs in the private waiting room. “Is your mother not here?”

“She went for coffee,” Jamie answered automatically. That had been three hours ago, but it still stood. Jamie had no doubt that wherever Mom was, she’d have a cup of coffee with her. Jamie explaining the morning to Mom hadn’t gone well. Jamie stood, then hesitated, looking back at Opal. “Can you--?”

“I’ll wait here,” Opal assured. It helped. Opal had been sitting with Jamie this whole time, even though Jamie was too full of waiting to be any kind of good company. She’d spent most of the last hour giving Jamie entertaining summaries of Gothic novels with unflattering appraisals of characters’ decision-making abilities. She’d kept it up, even though Jamie didn’t have it in her to laugh at anything right now. They made her almost smile and kept her partially occupied, and that was more than Jamie could have asked for. 

Jamie glanced back over her shoulder as she followed the nurse out, getting one more sympathetic smile and encouraging wave from Opal before following the nurse down the same hall her dad had disappeared down three hours ago. She hadn’t seen or heard from him, since. She told herself it was because a broken bone could take a while to treat.

Issac was sitting up, awake and lucid, when Jamie slipped quietly into the room. The nurse shut the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone. His lips weren’t blue. His eyes were focused, if bloodshot. He had on two medical bracelets and a white paper card in each hand. One large, one small. The sensors were still on his forehead. He watched her with trepidation, licking his lips. 

Jamie almost tripped over her shoes crossing the space between them. She wrapped both arms around him and pulled him close enough that she could tell that he was warm, that he wasn’t shaking. She tried to make out a heartbeat, but her own heart was pounding too hard. He put one hand on her back, hesitantly. The hand didn’t shake or jerk. It was steady. 

She took a deep breath, pulling away, and grabbed his pillow from behind him. She cataloged all the sensors on his head, his sternum, and his wrist bracelet. She aimed for his forearm and stomach, and hit him with the paper-wrapped pillow almost as hard as she could. “Never! Again!”

Issac raised his arms, trying to fend off the unexpected attack, but neglecting to grab the pillow. She gripped it, dragging it off the side of the bed, glaring at him with stinging eyes. Even if he didn’t know what she’d said, he should be able to work out why she was mad. 

He was still for a second, hands still raised defensively, not sure whether she’d strike another fluffy vinyl blow. That was fair; she wasn’t sure she wasn’t going to hit him again. She was gratified to see him frantically searching for an appropriate response. 

Tentatively, he reached out a hand, and that was enough invitation. She grabbed him in another tight hug, dropping the pillow back on the bed so she could grab him with both hands and be sure she could feel him breathing. “You jerk. I threw up four times because of you. If you ever try that again, next time I’m just going to let you--” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t even finish the thought. Didn’t want the twitching, blue-lipped vision it conjured up. She realized belatedly there was no way he could hold a tablet, because he was actually hugging her back this time. She was just as happy he hadn’t heard her threat. She sniffed hard, trying not to get snot on his paper pajamas, and squeezed him again. 

He answered anyway. “I promise not to ask you to do something like that again. Sorry.”

She muttered with her head on his shoulder. “You better not. Practically gave me a heart attack.”

“Liar. Your cardio system is like the only thing on you that halfway works right.”

Jamie startled, letting go. “You heard me!” Oh thank G-d, it was over. Whatever came next, it would all have to work out. Issac's gambit had paid off. Mom and Dad would have to forgive them for it eventually, now. She was almost lightheaded with relief. 

“No. I’m wearing the contacts.” 

Shit. She could see it cost him to even say it. But seeing him turn red in the face was good. Red wasn’t blue.

“Oh. Well. I’m glad you can use those now. I can’t even tell the difference!” He couldn’t hear her tone, but she was pretty sure it was still unconvincing. Not because it wasn’t true, but because of everything she knew would come with it. She gripped the paper of his hospital gown. “So…are you OK?”

He didn’t look at her this time, watching his own hand tap the sheets. “Well, I’m not dead. There doesn’t seem to be any more brain damage. Still can’t hear. So, mostly the same, I guess. My back hurts,” he added offhandedly. Jamie’s gut flipped, remembering the unnatural looking way it had bowed off the bed. “But I guess…mostly the same.” 

He turned his hand over. There was a handwritten notecard in it, in an unfamiliar handwriting. You are in the hospital due to a seizure. Some confusion and soreness-- He closed his hand around the card, then looked at the other card, which seemed to be a business card. He didn’t turn that around, so she couldn’t read it. 

“So uhm. I guess my experiment got someone’s attention at the APB--”

Her hand clenched around the paper of his shirt again. She looked down at his wrist. He wasn’t cuffed to the hospital bed or anything. Looked around the room. No sign of any security measures beyond the default. 

Issac was OK, but would he stay OK? Would they ship him off to some hellish prison in Detroit? Issac couldn’t make it in a place like that-- hearing or not. 

Jamie couldn’t protect him from that. From anything. “We’re at the APB,” she interrupted. He paused, then looked around the room, realizing it was true. “MARTIN called them,” Jamie added furiously. Stupid super-intelligent security system didn’t understand the risk it was putting Issac through.

“Oh. MARTIN.” He was quiet so long she had to squish the urge to bend over and check his eyes, to make sure they weren’t rolled back. Then he took an expansive breath. “Anyway, this guy who works with the APB is interested in my research. He offered me a job.” His eyes skittered up to meet hers. “And I took it.”

They stared at each other. He had the good sense to look a little hangdog. Finally, Jamie spoke, trying to sound as even-keel as possible. “I don’t want this to sound mean, but I think they should scan your brain for injuries again.”

Issac looked supremely unimpressed, but pointed at a monitor with a display that meant nothing to her. “Read all you want. I have.” He held up his phone. “I even got some notes from them.” He shifted, sitting straighter and warming to his subject. “Look, this is what I need. Just…some space to figure things out. Some backup so I can work without…” He gestured at the machinery behind him without actually looking at any of it. Jamie's eyes skimmed along them. There were a lot of them. A lot of things the doctors were worried about.

Legal protection. That was worth a lot. Was it more than their family could provide? 

“But you live with Mom,” Jamie attempted to reason. “She owns everything in your lab.”

He frowned. “Well, obviously I’m going to have to move out. That’s fine. I’m old enough.”

Jamie thought of Mom’s torn up cuticles and the cracks in the dark glaze on her nails. This morning, the cracks had been gone, and the plum glaze traded out for a less obvious nude color. Tidied up, but with the expectation of future chips. 

“I was going to move out soon, anyway. What’s a few months’ difference?”  

“Mom’s going to see a difference.” 

“Well, then that’s her problem,” he answered with attempted glibness. Jamie’s heart sank. “Yael wants you to come. With us. Xe’s moving out with me. As a bodyguard kind of thing. I don’t mind. If you want to.”

She made up her mind in an instant. She’d failed Issac once already today. She couldn’t quit now. She nodded, just once, and he seemed both pleased and surprised. 

She’d figure this out one way or another.

[luderailing]

Tag Game To Better Know You! Send this to people you’d like to know better!

Thankyou to @kyuhu and @council-of-beetroot for tagging me in this! ( and sorry I took ages lol )

What book are you currently reading?

I was reading The Gifts That Bind Us, but Ive set it aside to be finished later haha. Currently reading Girl in Pieces. Both S tier books 100% recommend (also if you do read The Gifts That Bind Us the first one is All Our Hidden Gifts👍)

What’s your favorite movie you saw in theaters this year?

Hmm, not sure I went to the theaters that much but. My favorite movie that came out this year has probably been Enola Holmes 2 if that counts

What do you usually wear?

Every day I wake up and choose between dressing like someone’s grandpa or goth broke teenager (probably an accurate description of me) I don’t even know what to call it. My closet is a whole mess of thrift store finds and one(1) arcade carpet pattern button up of which I love but have nothing to match. Lots of accessories too I have way too many necklaces and chokers

How tall are you?

5"1. Or 155 cm. I’m keeping my hopes up

What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event? 

Taurus! April 26th. And I looked it up I don’t share a birthday with anyone I recognize but apparently it’s national pretzel day. So that’s a win in my book

Do you go by your name or a nick-name?

I usually go by Feliks to my friends and stuff but I’ve had nicknames before. That was? Quite a while ago though.

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child?

My friend, I’ve still got a long long way to go.

Are you in a relationship? If not, who is your crush if you have one?

Nope and also no! Life would be so much easier if I could marry fictional men though frfr?

What’s something you’re good at vs. something you’re bad at?

Good at? Remembering small details as much as I can (but never able to remember anything important, of course) and bad at? Social cues and emotions. Everything about emotions!

Dogs or cats?

I love dogs, I have two dogs, but cats. I can’t handle loud noises for the life of me and dogs barking is one of the worst sounds to me. I love them but I don’t think I could own one. I would rather have a cat personally ^^;

If you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this year?

Ohhh ohooo. Hold on. Lemme find it. I never posted either of these projects but

“I have questions for you!”

“No you don’t!”

Or,

“Holy shit. Concrete.”

What’s something you would like to create content for?

Yeah, Hetalia. But I’d also love to pursue my own project. Something I made completely on my own. I think that’d be neat if only I actually even get to it ;-;

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with? 

Hetalia, and same with the it’s part of a bigger interest in history and geography. It just kind of fueled it yknow? I love learning about different cultures and places and stuff. But I also love stop motion animation. It’s gorgeous and I’d love to work on something like that some day!

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year?

Hmm, I can’t think of anything huge but Hamilton was going to/did already? I think. a performance in a city near me this month and I wasn’t able to go

What’s a hidden talent of yours?

I can eat three of those ridiculously large pretzel rods at once without water in between. Checkmate dad

Are you religious?   

Nope. That’s kind of it. My grandparents are extremely Christian but my parents never took me to church or anything like that

What’s something you wish to have at this moment?

Probably a plane ticket outta here. Actually two or three. There’s a few specific people I couldn’t leave without haha

Thanks again for tagging me!

Also. @koolkat9 if you haven’t done this already!

[rrosyan]

Tagged by @saikkunen. Thanks a lot, I like doing stuff like this and it’s been a while :3

What book are you currently reading? Brisingr (for those who’ve never heard of it, the third book in the series Eragon starts). I’ve read it few times before, but it’s been a while since I last did it. Still love the series. Also there’s Mariel of Redwall, with which I’ve been stuck for more than six months now. It is dangerous to re-read a book for a millionth of time when you remember that oh no, next is the part you don’t care about.

What’s your favorite movie you saw in theaters this year? I only went to see one movie in theaters in 2022 (yeah it’s already 2023, shut up), and it was Sonic 2. I did go see it 3 whopping times, so it’s pretty safe to say it’d be my favourite even if there were any others.

What do you usually wear? Uhhhh hoodies, fitting tank tops or t-shirts, loose pants. Colors vary, mostly black but there can be others.

How tall are you? 169cm.

What’s your Star Sign? Do you share a birthday with a celebrity or a historical event? Libra. I do not know, Trafalgar Law from One Piece is close enough to a celebrity for me.

Do you go by your name or nickname? I choose to think this refers to irl, so name. My dad is literally the only one to ever call me nicknames or pet names.

Did you grow up to become what you wanted to be when you were a child? I never really wanted to be anything but a tango queen when I was a kid, and that was when I was 4 or so. So, I guess ‘no idea’ came true.

Are you in a relationship? If not who is your crush if you have one? Nope. Also no crushes.

What’s something you’re good at vs something you’re bad at? Uhhh I guess I’m kinda good at drawing and writing? Maybe? Good is such a vague term. I do enjoy those, and I think that’s more important than being ‘’’good’‘‘ at things. I am bad at playing any instruments. Too many things you’re supposed to do simultaneously with your body.

Dogs or cats? Cats!!!! Dogs are also good, but cats make me more stupidly happy than any other creatures I’ve met.

If you draw/write, or create in any way, what’s your favorite picture/favorite line/favorite etc. from something you created this year? I have drawn some pretty good pictures this year, but I haven’t posted them online and I don’t feel like doing that now either. I do enjoy one undead wolf knight thingy I drew. I also like (still partly wip) doll’s bed I made a lot. I have written a lot, but isolating a single line is impossible.

What’s something you would like to create content for? Currently I’d like to doodle all of my favourite One Piece characters, but we’ll see when I’ll get to that. I have also been redrawing my oldest ocs with the same kids’ color pencils and other stuff as 20 years ago, and it’s been lots of fun. Overall I wanna work on my original projects more.

What’s something you’re currently obsessed with? Stardew Valley and Sonic Frontiers. Too bad I already completed the latter, I am waiting for the dlc’s to come. Also obsessed about my original projects.

What’s something you were excited about that turned out to be disappointing this year? Dissapointment is for those who do not know how to keep their expectations and excitement realistic. Jokes aside, I am honestly fairly good at being realistic about things I’m interested in, and it is a very rare occasion I am actually dissapointed about something I was excited for first, and it didn’t happen in 2022.

What’s a hidden talent of yours? It wouldn’t be hidden if I told you, would it. Tbh, I have no idea. Organizing material things maybe? Keep your timetables and whatnot away from me, but let me rearrange those messy drawers and closets of yours.

Are you religious? Nah. I am slightly spiritual pagan of my own brand though.

Whats something you wish to have at this moment? Does not-ill body and mind free of constant anxiety count? If not, then Freedom Planet 2 Switch port would be nice, but that won’t be out before next summer.

Tagging: Nah, don’t really feel like atm. If you wanna do this, consider yourself tagged.