#i was away from tumblr for a while sorryyy

[brooklyn-house]

OMG THANK YOU I LOVE THEM!!!!!!!!!! i love the lighting and the perspective and octavian's cute little expression and ghhhhh this is the best thank you so much!!!

could you pease draw some octakahale (octavian x michael kahale)? 👉👈 peaae and thak ou

-@brooklyn-house

couple activities

[gummy-cat-writes]

save it for a rainy day | spencer reid x bau! fem!reader

synopsis: while on a case in Seattle during a particularly rainy week, the team learns that you've never been kissed, a fact Spencer didn't realise would both him so much

content warnings: criminal minds typical themes (discussions/descriptions of violence, injuries, death, trauma and generally not great things) please read at your own risk!! also minor spoilers for s7 ep19 (heathridge manor)

ingredients: mostly fluff, she fell first, he fell harder, I got carried away so it's basically a casefic, inaccurate depictions of the US/how the FBI works (sorry I'm not American), a bunch of random facts since its literally Spencer's main love language (cannot guarantee the legitimacy of said facts they were from singular google searches), limited use of Y/N (I tried) and I'm not entirely convinced the plot exists sorryyy

word count: 6k (like I said I got carried away whoops)

a/n: eek this is my very first attempt at posting my writing on tumblr, and also my very first x reader fic! (finally living up to my username lol) I got a bit carried away with this and it is just a tad self indulgent but I hope you all enjoy and if I missed any content warnings please let me know!!

Spencer Reid couldn’t stand the rain. His hair was hard enough to keep presentable when dry, but being wet it made him look like a soggy cat. Much to his dismay, the current case happened to be in Seattle, Washington, right in the middle of their rainy season – perfect for an unsub who liked to drown their victims in rainwater.

Spencer had only just stepped out of the jet when he felt the light downpour beginning to dampen his head and shoulders, squinting up at the sky with a disgruntled look.

“I hate the rain,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else, thankful he’d long since transitioned back to contacts, as wearing glasses in this weather would have made the trip entirely more frustrating.

“Aw, come on,” a voice chirped up beside him. “It’s not that bad,” You were much more prepared than him, already opening a brightly patterned umbrella as you descended the plane steps. “It smells so nice.”

Without being asked, you lifted the umbrella higher so he could duck beneath it. The two of you began the walk across the tarmac, following Hotch and Rossi, with Emily, JJ and Morgan bringing up the rear.

“The term for the smell we usually associate with rain is actually called petrichor,” Spencer said, unable to help himself. “The word was coined in 1964 by Australian scientists, it’s a mixture of water and other compounds like ozone, geosmin and plant oils.” He wrinkled his nose, the aforementioned smell filling the morning air. “It gets particularly strong during a downpour like this.”

You chuckled. “Well, I think it’s romantic. I always imagined my first kiss would be in the rain.”

Spencer ducked as you closed the umbrella, arriving at the terminal entrance. He watched as you held back, letting the rain fall on your face for a moment.

“Was it?” he asked.

“Hm?” You blinked, before shrugging. “Oh, I wouldn’t know,” you said, in a surprisingly casual tone. “I haven’t had my first kiss yet.”

This statement somehow caused Spencer’s stomach to flip, and he found himself unable to form words.

Emily, who’d overheard the tail-end of the conversation, did not have the same issue.

“You’ve never been kissed?” she said incredulously, already grinning at your now somewhat sheepish expression.

“I’ve sort of being saving it,” you admitted, smiling nervously. “I just think that being kissed in the rain is so romantic.”

“Oh, you sweet summer child,” Emily responded fondly. “Wait ‘til Penelope hears about this.”

You groaned, your cheeks reddening. By now, JJ and Morgan had caught up, the former eyeing Spencer with concern.

“Spence, you okay?”

Caught off guard, Spencer’s next words came out a little harsher than intended.

“I don’t care if it’s romantic,” he snapped. “I still hate the rain.”

Spencer had no clue what was going on. It had been ages since your conversation on the tarmac, but your words kept replaying in his head. It was one of the few times he loathed his eidetic memory, as the visual of you standing calmly in the rain, water dripping down your face – more specifically your mouth – swam in his brain whenever he closed his eyes.

“-and Reid can share with her.” The sound of his name broke him from his reverie, and he looked up frowning. The team had dropped by their hotel to freshen up before heading to the precinct, and were discussing who would be sharing a room together. Typically, they got four rooms, with six of them pairing up and one person getting a room to themselves. JJ was looking at Spencer, that concerned look on her face again.

“You don’t mind, do you?” she asked.

Spencer’s brain rebooted awfully slow. “I- what?”

“Room shares,” Emily cut in, looking amused as the others chuckled. “You’re good to share a room with Y/N, right?”

All Spencer could do was glance between his team, his eyes landing on Morgan.

“What about Morgan?” he asked. Something about sharing a room with you made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

Morgan laughed. “Sorry, pretty boy, it’s my turn in the solo room.”

“I don’t mind,” you piped up, glancing at Spencer with a friendly smile. “Spencer?”

“Do you kids need to do rock-paper-scissors to decide?” Rossi’s tone was exasperated. “Me and Hotch, Emily and JJ, Reid and L/N and Morgan on his own. Simple.”

There was little more arguing Spencer could do without being obvious, so he reluctantly followed you down the hall to your room. Why on Earth was such a short, insignificant conversation making him feel like this? He’d shared rooms with you on cases before, what was so different now?

You unlocked the door to the room, completely unaware of his inner turmoil. For a moment, Spencer could forget it too, watching as you examined the room, enthusiastically dropping flat onto one of the twin beds.

“This room’s a lot like the one we shared in Massachusetts,” you mused absentmindedly. “The layout’s the same. I like the old-fashioned look.”

“You know, the oldest hotel in the world is the Nishiyama Onsen Keiunkan,” Spencer said. “It’s a ryokan, which is a traditional Japanese-style inn, and was first opened in 707 AD.”

You smiled. “Oh, yeah?” Sitting up, you looked up at him with a genuine interest that always made him falter his words.

He cleared his throat. “Um, yeah, it was created by the son of an aide to the 38th Emperor of Japan, Emperor Tenji. Actually, quite a few of the world’s oldest businesses are in Japan. There was a report published by the Bank of Korea that found that 56% of the around 5,500 companies older than 200 years are in Japan.”

“Damn,” you said, still smiling. “Well now I want to go to Japan.”

Spencer chuckled, averting his gaze. His rambles were typically met with disinterest, yet you were one of the few who would properly pay attention. You too were prone to rambling, though your tangents tended to be more anecdotal than random facts. But why now was your attention so nerve-wracking?

“Spencer?” Your voice once again pulled him from his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” you finally asked, frowning at him. “You’ve been really space-y today.”

“I’m fine!” His voice rising in octave definitely didn’t sell it. “I’m just… tired.”

He gave her a tight smile, hoping you’d drop it. He busied himself with setting his go-bag onto his bed.

“Do you think I’m weird?”

That caught his tension.

“What?” Spencer stared at you, concern that you’d ever think that overruling his current dilemma. “What are you talking about, you’re not weird you’re- you’re you-” He cut himself off as you laughed.

“Spencer, I’m in my 20s and I haven’t had my first kiss. That’s pretty weird, isn’t it?”

He blinked. “I didn’t have my first kiss until my 20s.” he pointed out.

“Yeah, because you were, like, twelve in your senior year. It would have been illegal to kiss you,” you said, amused. “I think I’ve only ever held hands with one person all through school.” Your smile faded a little as you fidgeted with your sleeve. “I guess I always expected dating and romance would just happen, like in the movies, and it never really did.”

“Well, in the US, the average age of the first kiss is fifteen, but even that varies between regions.” Upon realising his comment wasn’t helpful in the slightest, he back-tracked. “But everyone has their own timeline. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

You sighed, standing up. He could tell now that despite your casual tone on the tarmac earlier, it really did seem to bother you. Something about the melancholy look on your face stung something deep in him.

“Thanks, Spencer,” you said softly. “I’m going to go shower.”

The Seattle Police Precinct was a buzz of activity – the media had been all over the murders since a sixth body had been discovered, which was why the BAU had been called in. As Penelope had explained in the briefing, so far the unsub had killed six women over the course of two and half months. All six victims were women in their 40s, who all went missing a few days before their bodies were found in empty lots, significant amounts of rainwater in their lungs. With no other injuries on the bodies, it had been difficult to determine a clear motive.

Upon arriving at the precinct, Hotch set about delegating tasks so the team could build a profile. Spencer was strangely relieved when Hotch sent him to the medical examiner with Morgan. It wasn’t that he didn’t like working with you, but your comments had stuck with him more than they should for someone he saw as a friend, and he knew the longer he spent around you, he’d likely make a fool of himself.

The ME went over the autopsies with them, noting some of the interesting findings.

“So, it appears the victims spent a significant amount of time in water before they died,” she said, frowning at her clipboard.

“How can you tell?” Morgan asked.

She walked over to one of the tables, lifting the sheet covering the most recent victim, pointing at her arm. “See how the skin is thickened here, and the sores? She must have been in the water for good while, for the skin to do this. They all were.” The ME crossed the room to pick up a tray, bringing it over to show the two men a cutting of fabric. “The clothes they were wearing were beginning to mould, which can happen with water damage. These women were fully submerged for days before they died.”

“And you can confirm they died from drowning?”

“It’s quite difficult to determine if drowning is the official cause of death,” The ME replied. “But given how much water was in their stomachs and lungs, and the foam present, I’d say so.” She grimaced as she read through her notes. “It certainly wasn’t done quickly either.”

Morgan frowned. “This is similar to the case in Oregon, at that manor.” He paused, glancing at Spencer. “Reid,” he nudged him. “You good?”

“What? Oh- yeah, I’m fine.” Spencer stuttered, very aware he wasn’t convincing his colleague in the slightest. “The case in Oregon?”

“The way the victims were submerged in water, it’s similar. Do you think this unsub is also torturing?”

Spencer forced himself to focus, frowning at the body in front of him. “It seems it serves as both a way to torture, and to kill. The Oregon ones were killed with nicotine poisoning.”

“I also noticed something else,” the ME spoke up. “I found bits of rust stuck to their hands.” She moved the sheet, turning the victim’s hand over. Flakes of deep orange speckled the skin of her palm, which was reddened and raw. “I think they were holding onto something for quite a while, something metal.”

“Didn’t the Oregon unsub submerge the girls in a well?” Morgan said. “Perhaps we’re dealing with a copy-cat.”

Spencer shook his head. “Those details weren’t released to the press, it can’t be. Besides, if they had, they would have the grazes on their bodies from the rocks of the well, wouldn’t they?”

The ME nodded. “Aside from the hands, they’re relatively unharmed. That, and a bruise to the back of the head.”

Morgan nodded, putting the pieces together. “So the unsub hits them over the head to stun them, takes them somewhere and keeps them in a body of rainwater until they’ve drowned and dumps them in lots?”

“He’s gotten better, clearly,” the ME mentioned. “The first two victims had multiple wounds to the head, whereas the more recent ones only had one.”

“So,” Morgan said, seemingly talking to himself. “How long until he attacks again?”

Spencer leaned against the car, trying to read while Morgan phoned Penelope to update her on the unsub’s MO. Emphasis on trying. He’d been re-reading the same page over and over, and when one can read at his speed, it got repetitive rather quickly.

“- great job, baby girl, keep it up,” Morgan was saying as he returned to the car, putting his phone away. “So, Penelope is going to look into places where the unsub might have been able to keep the women, but that could be anywhere-”

“Ow!” Spencer looked up, offended, having just been flicked in the forehead. “What was that for?”

“You’ve been acting weird all day,” Morgan stated, eyeing the younger man. “More than your usual weird. What’s going on?”

Spencer rolled his eyes, looking back down at his book, only for it to be snatched from his hands. “Hey, give that back-”

“Not until you tell me what’s up,” Morgan’s voice was serious, using a similar tone Spencer had heard him use with his sisters. Firm but compassionate. “It’s pretty obvious something is wrong.”

Spencer’s shoulders sagged, and he let out a huff of frustration. “If I knew, I would tell you,” he grumbled, hesitating before he continued. “I- Y/N told me this morning that she’s never been kissed, and I can’t stop thinking about it-”

He was interrupted by Morgan’s hearty laughter. “That’s it?”

Spencer stumbled over his words, his face flushed. “It doesn’t mean anything, I’m not-”

“Pretty boy has a crush~” Morgan teased, the smirk on his face not shifting, even as Spencer smacked his forearm to get him to shut up.

“What? No, that’s ridiculous!” he snapped. “She’s my co-worker, my friend! I just-”

“Realised how much you’d like to be the one to kiss her?” Morgan finished for him, getting into the car. “Did you only just come to this conclusion today?”

Spencer scowled, climbing into the passenger seat. “What are you talking about?”

“Reid, you’ve been ogling her since she first started working here,” Morgan pointed out. “I know we’re not meant to profile each other, but it’s textbook-”

“You have no clue what you’re talking about! We’re just friends!”

Morgan chuckled. “If you say so. But, if you ask me, I don’t think she’d be too opposed if you asked her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Infuriatingly, Morgan chose then to finally fall silent.

You couldn’t understand what you’d done wrong. It had been two days since the team had arrived in Seattle, and Spencer was 100% avoiding you. He averted his eyes every time you spoke, made excuses to leave the room when it was just the two of you together, and barely spoke when you finally returned to the hotel to rest. Surely he wasn’t put off by what you’d told him at the airport?

When you’d said you were saving your first kiss to be in the rain, you were only half lying. A kiss in the rain would be romantic, but you desperately wanted it to be with him. It had been a little over a year since you joined the BAU, and you’d spent practically every day since then head over heels for Dr. Spencer Reid.

Who wouldn’t? He was your type in every way – nerdy, awkward and ridiculously good-looking.

So far, you’d managed to keep it hidden from most of the team, save for Emily, JJ and Penelope. Curse those women for being so good at their jobs. And curse them for teasing you every chance they got.

“What are you looking at?”

Speak of the devil, and doth shall appear, looking exactly like Emily Prentiss. She set a coffee down next to you, choosing to lean against the table rather than sit, giving you a knowing grin.

You quickly looked back down at the files in your hands. “Nothing,” you mumbled, convincing no one.

“Honestly, you are lucky the boy genius is the most oblivious man in the world,” Emily said, frowning at Spencer, who was discussing the case with Rossi and JJ. “I’m surprised he hasn’t caught on yet.”

“Would you keep it down?” you hissed, swatting her with a file. “I don’t want the entire precinct to know.”

She cackled, nudging you with her leg. “I figured you could do with a push in the right direction,” Leaning down, she lowered her voice. “That direction being a certain doctor’s bed-”

“Emily!”

“I’m just putting it out there, you should go talk to him,” She stood up to avoid any more file assaults. “You can’t avoid him forever.”

Fortunately, the lecture was interrupted by Hotch walking into the room, a particularly stormy look on his face. “There’s been another kidnapping,” he said. “Let’s go.”

The team bundled themselves into the cars, heading to east Seattle, where a staggering amount of police cars and media vans were already gathered. Breezing past the officers and into the house, you followed JJ and Emily into the bedroom.

The previous women had all gone missing while at home, all living alone, or when their partners weren’t home. This time, it was clear the victim’s partner had been home. He was laying on the bed, blood splattered everywhere and a pillow covering what was sure to be fatal head wounds.

“Monique Johnson is currently missing, the neighbour found this after hearing their dog barking inside.” Hotch said as he followed in behind you.

“Clearly the unsub didn’t expect the boyfriend to be home,” JJ muttered. “This is overkill, he lost his cool.”

Hotch nodded. “We need to give the profile.”

“We believe the unsub is a white man, likely in his 30s. He’s not very noticeable, blends in with the crowd,” Hotch began, arms crossed as he presents the profile to the Seattle Police. “Given how he manages to break into the victims’ houses with little to no trouble, it’s possible he has experience with burglary, and may have a criminal record.”

“The victims all resemble each other physically, and in personality,” JJ continued. “It’s possible the unsub is viewing these women as surrogates for someone in his life, possible a sister, or a mother, given the lack of sexual components to the crimes.”

“We’ve classified him as a control-oriented killer,” Morgan picked up. “The method in which he drowns his victims over a gruelling multiple days is his way of being in control. Though he is very intelligent, and manages to limit any physical evidence left behind on the victims, he clearly struggles when plans don’t go his way.”

“The most recent victim is Darius Bowers, 47,” you spoke up. “He was killed during the abduction of his girlfriend, Monique Johnson. This is the first time the unsub has killed a man, and it is very clear it wasn’t meant to happen.”

“He knows we are getting close, which means we only have a limited time to find Monique alive.” Hotch concluded.

As the officers dispersed, you breathed a sigh of relief. Delivering profiles was nerve-wracking, but it was good to know you were on the right track.

“What are you- hey!” Spencer’s voice shot up an octave as you grabbed him by the sleeve, all but dragging him into a nearby hallway. He looked as if he were caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

“Have I done something wrong?” you asked, trying and failing not to sound desperate. The reality was the distance hurt, more than you could admit. “You’ve been avoiding me this entire case, and it’s clear I’ve upset you, which is the last thing I wanted, so would you please just spit it out?”

Spencer stood there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish, utterly speechless. Then, slowly, a deep red flush crept up his neck and he cleared his throat.

“I- I don’t know.”

It was rare to hear that phrase from him.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s- You haven’t done anything wrong, I just-” He was stuttering, eyes directed towards some far off thing as he struggled to explain himself. “I think I’ve come to realise how much you care about me, and-”

“Guys, it’s Penelope.” JJ said sharply, peeking around the wall.

You let out a huff of frustration, storming after the blonde woman, leaving Spencer nonplussed and red in the face.

The team huddled around the table, where Morgan’s phone on speaker in the middle, playing the upbeat voice of Penelope Garcia.

“Alright my lovelies, so I have been fighting tooth and nail with these files, trying to find a link between the victims and let me just say, it would be easier to get Hotch to smile, it is difficult-”

“Garcia-” Hotch’s tone was warning.

“Sorry sir,” she quickly added. “I think I’ve found something. Weeks before Janet Burgess, the second victim, went missing, she payed a fee for a lawn service through Green City Lawn Care-”

“Isn’t that where Monique Johnson works?” Spencer piped up, frowning.

“Why indeed, boy genius, and get this, Danna Howell, the fifth victim also had her lawn mowed by the same company!” Before anyone else could interrupt, she continued. “Now, you’re probably thinking that it’s just a coincidence, but the universe is rarely so lazy, so, I dug a bit further and found out that all the victims at some point used the service in the past six months, and three of them left quite scathing reviews of the company.”

“That’s great, baby girl, but we both know you can do better,” Morgan teased.

“I was getting there, chocolate thunder-”

“Garcia-” Hotch warned, a little more impatient.

“Sorry sir, so I went through employee records and just seven months ago they hired a Tristan Murray, who has only just completed 15 years in prison.”

“What for?” Emily asked.

“I’m not-so glad you asked,” Penelope said, her cheery voice becoming more grim. “Burglary that ended with assault of the homeowner.” A rapid sound of typing was heard. “Looks like he had quite a nasty childhood, his biological mother was only 16 when she had him, and put him into the foster system. He got with the wrong crowd, spent time in and out of juvy, and oh god-”

“What?”

“Apparently he was arrested for the burglary charges when police were called to a cafe for a verbal altercation between 19 year old Tristan and his biological mother. Police reports say she came there to meet with him and he wanted to have her in his life but she didn’t, and this made him very angry.”

“Where is his mother now?” Rossi asked.

“Uh, it looks like she is still in Seattle but- oh no- she got a restraining order against him just recently.”

“That’s the trigger,” Hotch said. “Alright, Reid, L/N, Morgan, you take officers to Green City, JJ and Emily head to the mother’s place and Rossi and I’ll go to the unsub’s house.”

Green City Lawn Care was a run-of-the-mill lawn care company, nestled in a mostly suburban part of Seattle. The sky was a deep grey, not yet raining but clearly it would soon, if the rumbling thunder was any indication.

Spencer couldn’t say a word to you, his mind still reeling from your earlier confrontation. As he strapped on his bulletproof vest, he snuck a glance in your direction, and when his heart jumped at the focus in your expression, he felt yet another wave of confusion.

Following his conversation with Morgan, he’d been going over every memory of you in his mind, analysing your behaviour and he’d come to the shocking realisation that maybe his colleague was right.

The shy smiles, a kind tone reserved only for him, flinching when your hands brushed and the occasional flush to your face when you spoke to him. While Spencer knew he was blind to subtle social cues, re-examining all those behaviours were blatant indicators of at least some level of affection beyond a platonic line.

Had he only missed it because he couldn’t imagine you – or anyone, for that matter – seeing him in that light? Or was Morgan also correct about him? Had he been so caught up in watching you he hadn’t actually seen you?

Observing the way you frowned as you buckled the clips of your vest, the variety of your expressions flashed in his mind, your smile, your laugh, your pout, it all burned itself behind his eyes, causing some unknown feeling to bubble in his chest, threatening to burst free.

“Ready to go?” Morgan asked the both of you, adjusting his earpiece.

You nodded, and he turned away to check on the Seattle officers.

Spencer opened his mouth, your name on the tip of his tongue, and as you made to walk towards the building, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist.

The sky above rumbled, and a few drops of rain hit his shoulders, darkening the fabric.

“Listen, I need to-” he began, unsure of exactly how to explain his feelings, but knew he had to tell you, before it consumed him.

You stared up at him, conflict crossing your face as Morgan called the two of you. Giving him a brief smile, you gently pulled your arm from his grip.

“After, alright?” you said.

When did you become able to so easily steal the air from his lungs?

“Reid, come on.” Morgan said, frowning.

The three of you took the lead, crossing the car-park towards Green City Lawn Care as a few officers brought up the rear. Guns ready, Morgan paused outside the front door, directing some officers to go around the back, before nodding at you and then Spencer.

The door chime jingled as Morgan walked in, body tense as he directed the baffled receptionist to head outside, asking him if Murray was in.

“He- He just came by, said he was grabbing supplies-” the man babbled, pale in the face of three armed FBI agents. “What’s this about?”

“Let’s go,” Morgan ordered, ignoring his questions, taking the lead as he jumped over the counter, gun ready as he opened the door to the back supply room.

The three of you filed into a large garage, which held a few lawnmowers, and various other lawn care equipment.

“You two, take that side.”

Spencer followed as you crept around the right side of the garage. There was a clatter of something hitting the floor, before the face of a man poked up between the machinery.

“Tristan Murray?” you called out, pointing your gun at him. “We just need to talk!”

The man didn’t hesitate to bolt, and Spencer’s heartbeat thrummed faster as the two of you chased after him, Morgan a ways behind, radioing for back-up.

Running to the back door of the garage, the man dashed outside, disappearing around a corner. Without a second thought, you ran after him, and Spencer couldn’t stop himself from sprinting after to you. He could see the figure of the man darting down a side street, which lead to what appeared to be an abandoned construction site.

The rain was heavier now, blurring Spencer’s vision as he watched you slide between the gates, running straight into the site. He somewhat clumsily stumbled into the gate, pulling it open, while trying to keep you in his line of vision.

Morgan had caught up by now, the two of them squeezing through the gates into the site. It was clearly meant to be a building, but hadn’t been touched in a while. The pelting rain soaked the dull grey concrete foundation blocks as the two men squinted through the downpour.

“Where’s L/N?” Morgan shouted.

“She went after him, I-” Spencer tried to catch his breath, his lungs burning.

“Murray, this isn’t going to change anything!” Your shout caught their attention, but the following cry of pain chilled Spencer to the core.

Sprinting in the direction of the scuffle, he found Murray on top of you, a metal pipe pressing against your throat.

Before he could really process what he was doing, he grabbed Murray, pulling him off you, managing to take the man by surprise long enough for Morgan to catch up.

“I’ve got him!” he shouted, tackling the man to the ground, silver handcuffs already being clipped around his wrists.

Spencer whipped around to you. You were on your feet, muddy and a bright red streak of blood coating your right arm, running down your hand.

“Spencer, she has to be here!” you said urgently, looking around. “He ran here for a reason, this is where Monique is!”

“Where is she?” Morgan shouted at Murray, hauling him to his feet.

The man bit his tongue, angrily glowering at them all, still attempting to struggle against Morgan.

Your eyes darted from foundation block to sodden wooden pallet. And then you ran off.

“I’ve got this, go after her!” Morgan said.

Spencer was already chasing after you, as you jumped down, following the gutter down some slippery wet grass to where a large storm-water drain sat.

“She’s here!” You shouted, already pulling against the metal bars. Spencer all but stumbled down beside you.

A woman was in the drain, gripping on to the bars with all her strength, the rushing water from the pipes bubbling over her face. “Help me lift this!”

Spencer nodded, grabbing one end of the grate, and the two of you managed to lift it just enough so you could grab Monique’s shirt, dragging her out of the drain.

She was pale and barely conscious, but thankfully coughing up water. You held her shoulder as she heaved, relief clear on your face.

“Your arm-” Spencer said, heart rate slowly ticking down to a normal rhythm.

It was as if you barely noticed the wound. “I cut my arm when he tackled me,” you wheezed. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

Something about you, covered in mud and blood, your cheeks flushed from the exertion, asking if he was okay, confirmed what he’d been questioning all along.

Despite their victory, the rain didn’t let up by much. Spencer was positive he looked ridiculous, soaked to the bone, but he didn’t care. He walked over to one of the ambulances, where an EMT was stitching up the cut to your arm. It looked pretty nasty, but without the blood dripping everywhere, it was certainly improving.

You glanced up as he approached, giving him a tired smile.

“You okay?” he said, as the EMT finished covering the wound, excusing herself.

“I’ll survive,” you replied, examining the wound. “Might get a cool scar. It’ll make me look more badass.”

Spencer chuckled. The two of you looked around at the scene, blue and red lights reflecting off the rain. Monique was being wheeled away in a stretcher.

“Hotch is going to be so mad at me,” you muttered. “I shouldn’t have gone after him alone.”

Spencer shook his head. “I’ll vouch for you. If you hadn’t, Monique would’ve drowned.”

You nodded, but your expression was bitter. “She’s about to find out her boyfriend is dead,” you mumbled. “I can’t imagine anything worse.”

Standing up, you sighed, tilting your head up as the rain soaked your clothes once more. In contrast to how calm you’d been on the tarmac, your face was melancholy.

“You were right,” you said, dejected despite the success of the case. “The rain isn’t that romantic afterall.”

Spencer looked down at you, then up at the sky. The events of the past few days replayed in his mind, and the revelations that had come with matched the steady rhythm of his heart. He reached out, almost imperceptibly, letting his hand brush against yours.

“It’s beginning to grow on me,” he said softly, glancing back down at you, his lips twitching up into a small smile. “Thanks to you,” he added, and when you linked your hand with his, he tried not to let it show how breathless the action made him.

Your smile was nothing short of beautiful.

As if sensing the troubles were passing, the rain lightened up as the team returned to the precinct to wrap up the case, and then headed to the hotel. Cases like these always seemed to drag on when you’re in the thick of them, but the moment you’re done, you swear no time has passed.

Spencer headed out of the hotel, spotting the brightly coloured umbrella you’d brought before he saw you, standing in the rain. Your go-bag was on the steps of the hotel, sheltered from the light downpour.

He walked up to you, gently tapping the fabric of the umbrella so you’d lift it up for him to duck under. “Is your arm any better?” he asked after a moment.

“It stings a bit,” you replied. “I’m fine, though.” There was something in your voice that told Spencer you weren’t.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but we did good,” he said softly. “You did good.”

“Why do people do things like this, Spencer?” you asked quietly.

“Do you want the statistics?”

You huffed a small laugh, leaning into him a bit. “Yes.”

“Humans are, and have always been a naturally violent species out of all the mammals,” he said. “Studies show that in most mammals, deaths caused by others of the same species accounts for 0.3 percent of deaths, and typically the reasons are practical; food, territory, et cetera. The rate of lethal violence in humans is almost seven times higher,” Spencer couldn’t resist gesturing with his hands as he spoke. “We kill not just for those reasons, but for seemingly insignificant or even perceived transgressions. Anger is particularly potent, and it makes us do terrible things. Combining that with an often hostile and intolerant society, it makes us predisposed to kill.”

“We’re kind of awful, aren’t we?” you said bitterly.

Spencer nodded slowly, glancing at you. “Some more than others. Some less. If its any consolation-” he hesitated for a full 30 seconds of rain before continuing. “You’re one of the least awful, in my opinion.”

He loved the way your smile grew, gradually reaching your eyes and filling his chest with warmth.

“Thanks,” you said genuinely. “For making this case a little less awful.”

“I’d like to make it not awful at all, if you’d let me.”

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. Wordlessly, Spencer reached up, taking the umbrella from your hand and closing it. Gently dropping it by your bag, he took your hands, leading the both of you properly out into the rain. You stared at him, and something clicked, your smile faltering in favour of a more surprised expression.

Spencer tentatively touched your cheek with one hand, fingers barely grazing the skin, as if he was scared you might shatter.

“May I?” he asked, his cheeks going pink at how his voice cracked.

Your small nod was all he needed. Spencer leaned down, his other hand drifting up to cup your jaw with more confidence as he pressed his lips to yours. He kissed with intent, he always did. He couldn’t help it, using the kiss as a way to almost press the words he wanted to say into you.

You let out a muffled squeak of surprise, tilting your head back as your hands found the slightly damp fabric of his cardigan. You kissed back, clumsy and inexperienced, but neither of you cared. The rain was chilly, you both knew you’d be uncomfortably damp for the flight home, but those were small prices to pay for a moment that Spencer realised you’d been right about.

Kissing in the rain was indeed, very romantic. It was romantic in how despite knowing that your clothes were getting wet, your hair was ruined and you were shivering slightly from the cold, all you wanted was the moment to drag on forever.

Finally, you were the first to pull back, grinning up at Spencer with bright eyes and a wide smile, cheeks flushed. You were both vaguely aware the others were watching, Emily and Morgan snickering to each other in your peripheral, but it didn’t matter.

Spencer Reid couldn’t stand the rain. His hair was hard enough to keep presentable when dry, and he knew in this moment he probably resembled a soggy cat. However, for you, he’d gladly make an exception.

thank you for reading <33

[monayen]

uhhh I dunno really but — maybe a fic of reader just walking in the forest because they r lost then getting caught in a bear trap nyen set up and uh he does something fucked up to reader, like fucks them then kills them or something? Or something heavy gore related while he fucks them.. sorryyy ahhh (I’m a damn masochist.)

The Lost Camper | Nyen

➷ Paring - Nyen x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - noncon, unsafe sex, fear play, knife play, blood kink, stabbing, sadism, fingering, violence, degradation, dacryphilla, READER DEATH

a/n - this came out to 4k words :') i know anon described a bear trap/hunting-esque situation but i felt making the reader a more cryptic-like being of the woods made a bit more sense (and easier to fit in) either way, reminder that this is DARK. there isn't a happy ending and the reader does freakin' die. (though rebirth is implied. see it how ya' do) i apologize for any mistakes as this is my longest work to date (whoop whoop) thank you for your comments and requests on both ao3 and tumblr. keeps me motivated ^^ currently working on a Randal fic and some Luther headcannons :3 inbox open as always. ANYWAYS ENOUGH

You aren't sure why you decided to hop over the Ivory household's security measures and rummage through their things while they slept. You’ve seen campers before in these woods plenty of times. Hundreds, if you kept count… but you don't.

You also don't ever interact with campers these days either. They didn’t tend to be special and they didn’t ever really get in the way. Maybe you’ll spook them by hovering around behind the greenery, sticks cracking underneath rugged boots. They don't interest you anymore beyond listening to them talk about their boring, human lives. 

It doesn't make them completely irrelevant to you though, as you’ve gained a habit of sneaking onto their campsites. You steal – quite often. Well, as often as people come this deep into the woods. It's how you justify it, how else are you supposed to get canned food and new clothes? And so what if you also take a couple of books you can't read and stuffed animals whose furs mat under dirty hands. The mossy den you reside in could always use new things, even if you have no use for them.

For as long as you remember, it has been like this. A being of the woods, you’ve become a cryptic-like legend. “The Lost Camper”, you’re called. Whatever that means. You aren't sure what life is like past bark and muddy soil, clothes messy and hands rough. You were never lost, this is all you know.

Is it all so bad? So bad that humans go out of their way to tell campfire stories about your existence? The grass gives you more comfort than any sleeping bag can. 

So there really wasn't any need for you to be past that fence they set up. The truth was that they were… interesting. More interesting than any other family who ventured out here. You saw as they gathered around and talked, well, two were doing most of the talking. Brothers, apparently. (despite not looking much alike) 

They tagged along a couple more… characters. Notably, these two catmen that hovered around the older one of the brothers. They looked more alike, cat ears dawning their similar haircuts. You could tell them apart by their clothes – easier, their demeanors. 

The blue haired one stood hunched, staring at his… ”master” talk. Immediately, you could tell he was the more timid of the two. You observed the other pinkish haired one smoke a cigarette a few steps away from the group. His eyes – eye, actually – looked low and dark. The patch on one of them leaves you to wonder what might've happened for it to be left in such a state. Catching his name from his master, “Nyen”, which made sense considering his appearance.

You must have been staring too long, because suddenly Nyen lifts his head and his sunless eye meets yours for a second. Ducking quickly behind the trees, it should have been your sign to leave, to go on your merry way of collecting berries and getting high off of mushrooms for entertainment. 

But of course – you didn't. Instead, you retreated to the comfort of the conifer and stood idly. The sun set faster than you expected, any thoughts of simply leaving long gone hours ago. An eager smile spread across your face, these unique campers were asleep and you were going to rein free on their grounds. This was going to be the most fun you’ve had in ages!

As you tiptoe to their spot, you point out the odd set up. They had a truck and two tents, but only one tent actually seemed to be occupied. They also left a plethora of things outside unattended. Great for you. 

Nimbly, you start pocketing random things into your large well-loved leather crossbody bag. You’ve rummaged through many people’s unattended things before, but they definitely take it to a different level. This place was filled with bizarre stuff, stuff you’ve never seen before. 

Why the fuck were they carrying several wooden carvings of beavers and… birthday cake flavored “lube”... unsure what the latter was. Either way, you found it all the more entertaining to stuff these random things into your bag, giggling slightly when you pulled out a photorealistic framed drawing of a blue pony with a rainbow mane. 

You were so intrigued by all these things that you didn't realize masked, narrow eyes staring at your figure past the of the darkness camp. 

-

Nyen had been waiting for this. How stupid can you be? He saw you past the trees when the sun was still up, staring with a stable gaze – observing. Your face was shaded by the leaves, but he could see the grip you had on the tree trunk you stood behind. You looked rugged, you weren't just another camper or hitchhiker. He huffs his cigarette, more freaks. Nyen moves his eyes towards his master, clearly already stressed with the hitchhiker they had picked up hours before. Another huff.

His eyes meet yours when he decides to look up again and just as quickly – you're gone. 

Once Luther hears about this, his brows furrow slightly at the idea of another thing to deal with. “Oh dear, I just can't catch a break.” Nyen waits for his master to continue.

Randal (who totally wasn't eavesdropping) perks up once he recognizes who they were talking about, “Oh! Oh! You mean the…” He pauses for dramatic effect, “The Lost Camper…” Luther twists his head to stare at his brother, “Is that the name?” 

Randal nods excitedly, “I’ve read all about her! Apparently, she’s a ghost. Or like a cavewoman. Or an animal-hybrid. I actually didn't read that much.” He shrugs, “She doesn't hurt people, I think. Just swipes a few things and wonders around. Which is a little boring, would love it if something tried to kill us! AGAIN!”

Luther shakes his head and looks back at Nyen, “Hm, it’s too late now to move everything back inside…” He places a finger on his chin, “If that's true, then deal with her if she becomes a problem, alright?” 

Nyen nods, “Yes sir.”

From what Randal said, he knew you would most likely lurk in the incognito of the night. So he took his stance outside the tent everyone else slept in. 

He almost giddily twirls the handle of the knife, waiting and waiting. Hours pass, he doesn't have a watch but his internal clock tells him it’s around 3 am when he finally spots you. Look at you, being a problem.

Your back is faced away from him. Through the darkness, (and thanks to his skill of seeing well in the dark) he witnesses the silhouette of your thievery. Nyen can't point out exactly what you are taking but all he can imagine is his master’s upset face if he sees things are missing. The grip on his knife tightens.

He needs to wait again, wait for the perfect moment, wait to pounce . Nyen hears giggles escape your mouth – small, but he hears it. His jaw clenches. How dare you tee-hee while taking his family's very important stuff? He almost wants to lunge at you straight away, but he decides against it. Nyen wants to stab you in the throat and watch the blood splurt once you turn around. He just needs to get a bit closer…

SNAP

How irritating. Nyen just had to step on a twig. 

Your reaction time is just as fast as his, darting into the dark woods with him quickly trailing behind you.

Nyen huffs to himself. He wanted to make this quick, but he certainly doesn’t mind a chase.

-

Holy shit, shit, shit. Thoughts race a thousand miles per hour, with your legs following right behind. You admittedly got too into it that you weren’t focusing, now you have to make a great escape. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve had to run away from a camper, there was a time where a woman got spooked by you on her way to take a piss. Her scream was so loud that you immediately dashed past her, dropping the clothes you had stolen. Her husband (presumably an experienced outdoorsman) actually trekked through the woods with a shotgun for a while as you held your breath in the branches above. Ultimately, her family was gone before the sun was down. 

But you aren't sure you can just avoid this one. You allow yourself to turn peek behind you and see him . The smoking catman, Nyen. The shade of the night is heavy, but you’ve adapted to see well in the dark. You’re sure he has that skill too with the way his gaze is steady, hard, and right on yo u through terrifying masked eyes. Where did his eyepatch go?

Shaky hands clutch the filled crossbody bag that jumps with your every movement. If you had to go through this, you at least want to keep the stuff. 

Just tire him out, you think. It's reassuring that you know these woods like the back of your hand. You’ve tread several miles, exploring and wondering, though never finding a road. (Odd.)

Agilely weaving him past trees and fallen logs, your boots try to find leaf covered ground in an attempt to not leave visible tracks, but that would cause you to move slower – and you can't afford that. You assume with enough loops and turns, he will lose your trail.

A loud, gravelly yell can be heard behind you, “You can't run forever!” It makes your heart hammer because it's true. You aren't sure how long you’ve been running now but it feels like hours .

Periodically, you pause to catch your breath, but it isn't long before you hear his heavy steps get closer and closer, forcing the chase to start again.

It’s terrifying. You have amazing stamina. It's part of being in these woods, moving a lot. Nyen is different though, you don't think he’s stopped once. He’s a hunter, a bit slower than his prey but always behind. 

Huffing, you duck under branches and jump over uneven ground with aching legs, barely catching yourself a few times. It’s strenuous to carry on like this, so close to giving out. It’s impossible to focus with this adrenaline pumping through your veins, are you going in circles? Herbage you’re so used to begin to feel like a labyrinth of ever consuming moss and vines. 

Managing to keep your distance, you start to believe that maybe you’ve lost him when the echo of rushed footsteps begin to fade. There’s a wave of relief when all that can be heard is the sound of heavy panting and earth stirring underneath sore feet. 

You close your eyes as you continue to move forward, wind flowing through your hair with momentum. It’s just for a second, for a moment of clarity. It's a terrible second. Your right ankle rolls horribly on a rock, making you tumble down with shriek. It reverberates past trees and you’re sure he's heard it. 

He’s already closing the gap, leaves shuffling behind you. Regaining composure with gritted teeth, you come to the conclusion that he can have his damn things. It’s not worth running forever. Peeking at your quickly growing swollen ankle, you aren't sure you even could.

Finding an area where the trees thin out with patches of soft grass, you use the last of your excretion to exclaim, “Wait, wait!” Facing him finally, he stops feet away from you. 

You finally get a closer look at him. His stance is still aggressive, as if you are about to take off at any moment. You see his glare filled with pure disdain, thin lips curling in a snarl. His eyes go beyond his bizarre mask, it feels like he's piercing you with them.

“Say it.” It's a husky voice that makes the anxiety in your stomach swirl. You realize you haven't been face to face with someone in… a while.

Croaking out with a strained voice, “Look, here. Have it back, I don't want it anymore.” With shaking hands, you tug the worn leather over your body and drop it onto the ground in between you two. Gulping, you scan his figure for any type of reaction.

That's when you notice a glint in his hand – a knife. Maybe it was foolish to assume he wouldn't have a weapon on him, he was chasing you after all. But it dawns on you that you don't have one. 

Nyen seems to pick up on your sudden stiffening, taking a step forward. It takes everything in you to not take off, but you know it would be fruitless with a sore ankle. 

“I know who you are.” You shake, “You do?” He nods slowly, “Randal told me about you. ‘The Lost Camper’, a habitual thief and urban legend. A fucking pussy too.” 

A low laugh escapes his lips, he’s getting closer. “So, you think you can just get away with this?” Sweat builds even heavier on your brow and you shake your head, “No, no. I’m – I’m sorry. I didn't mean to–” He cuts you off, “You knew exactly what the fuck you were doing. You need to be dealt with. ”

Your flight instinct kicks in and despite the light injury you sustained, your feet begin to move on their own. It's not fast enough though, he lunges at you and the sudden weight causes you to fall down with a pained hiss.

There's a tackle, he's grabbing at you while you try to force yourself up under him. It’s incredibly rough, there isn't enough room to struggle around with how his weight presses you down.

You watch terribly as Nyen brings his knife up in the air. The pale moon shines on the blade, and for a second, you see the reflection of your terrified face before it stains red. 

A guttural scream forces out of your mouth, making you throw your head back before it crooks back down to see crimson blood seep through your jeans down the side of your thigh. 

Nyen doesn't waste time in pulling the blade back, watching how you writhe in pain. Through teary eyes, you see pure excitement spread across his shaded face. He’s enjoying this. 

You can barely resist when he's forcing your thick jacket off your body – not satisfied with how the material lessens the cuts he’s adorning your body. “Don't do this…” It’s meek and pathetic, you know but you can't help it. He stands above, blood staining his hands. 

“It's already happening.” It's deep and low, and you feel every drip of venom that laces his words. 

You witness Nyen begin to rub the growing bulge in his tan jeans, causing your stomach to twist in a way that you're scared you may vomit out of the fear and pain. The catman groans, “Fuck… I’m going to make a mess out of you.”

Soon enough, he strips you of your worn shirt and jeans clothes. It's scary how Nyen handles you like a ragdoll, no concern for the twists and gashes your injured body has to endure. 

“So this is what you were hiding under all that? Lucky me.” It’s so condescending that you grit your teeth. For any chance of keeping your dignity, an attempt of covering yourself and moving is made – but it’s met with a swift kick to your ribs that results in burning heaving.

A cold hand slips under your bra, lifting it over and groping at your chest. Whimpering, you attempt to shy away from his touch but he draws you back with an even colder tip of a blade that swipes across your skin. 

Red drapes over your body like a warm blanket in contrast to the cool chill of the forest air. You can almost stare off into the starry night you are so used to while you try to regain bated breath, just for an escape.

Nyen doesn't allow this though. He flips you over roughly onto your stomach, ripping away the comforting sky from your vision. Again, you want to at least protest when he greedily spreads your legs open, hand prodding at your sensitive heat.

Shit. You don't remember the last time you ventured into anything sexual. Maybe you’d rub one out when the idea popped up, but it never really did. You’ve seen a… er– dildo (if you remember correctly what it was called) once or twice when snooping around camps. It gave you a good laugh then, but you would ultimately leave it. 

Now you can feel how his hard length presses up against you. It’s an uncommon sensation, and fuck – why does it have to be big? 

Cutting your underwear off, his long fingers soon dip into the heat of your pussy, pushing in and out. You gasp and tremble underneath his touch. He doesn't wait for you, curling his digits up as growing wetness coats his knuckles. It's disgustingly good, making your traitorous body clench around his fingers. 

Nyen looms over you, wiping the soaked knife onto dark long sleeves, helping him keep his grip on the handle. Then, he pulls his fingers out of you, tauntingly slow to hear how you whimper pathetically. “Look at you, bitch. You're fucking dripping.” He mixes the juices with your blood, “Heh, in more ways than one.”

With unbuckled jeans, he moves fully on top of you, knees pining the sides of you down as he grunts against your soft ass. Nyen then grips your hair and pulls your head back, curving your spine into an uncomfortable position. His knife finds its way to your exposed neck. 

Shaking, it nips at your skin as shallow breaths escape you. He brings himself closer . “Should I just kill you now? What do you think, slut?” Adrenaline rushes through your body, a shameful cry escapes you, “No, no! Don't– don't!” 

He grinds against you, “Then beg.” Shaking your head, you respond – “Please. Please let me go, I’m sorry.” A deep sinister chuckle responds, “No, bitch.” He yanks your head back even farther. Feeling his hot breath against your face, he spits, “Beg for me to fuck you.” 

Tears pool in your eyes, shutting tightly when his blade grazes hurt skin once more. His hard length prods at your entrance – waiting. With a deep breath, you whisper oh-so pathetically. “Please fuck me.” You pray it's enough.

“Better than that. C'mon, or I’ll slit your pretty little fucking throat.” He yanks your hair, pushing into your skin. You panic, fat tears streaming down your face. “No! Don't kill me! Please, please just fuck me. Please.”  

Your screams turn into loud cries, echoing onto the tall trees that surround the scene. Nyen relishes in your wails, nails digging into the back of your scalp before his cock sinks into you roughly. You squirm with a loud pained gasp, you weren't close to ready for him. 

His knife (thankfully) removes itself from your neck, grip on the handle still iron strong. It doesn't give you anything to distract from as he stretches you out incredibly painfully. Inch by inch, your muscles contract and try to adjust to his size – but it's not nearly enough when he begins to start to move. 

“You're so fucking tight.” He lets out a sharp grunt, skin slapping against yours. “You've never fucked, haven’t you?” All you can do is cry. “Perfect.”

Forgetting the threat of his knife, he reminds you with a deep slash across your back. Pain vibrates through you, hands grip at soil and blades of grass in an attempt to stiffen the burning sensation that consumes you. Nausea festers and chokes at the back of your throat, certain that if you had eaten this morning it’d be spilling out your mouth by now.

It's an entrancing sight for Nyen, the large gash displays the crimson beautiful blood dripping down your arched back and onto your asscheeks as he slams into you. It’s a lot of blood. So much so that he feels how you physically weaken under him, fully incapacitated.

He decides to flip you back onto your back once again like the ragdoll you are. There, he can see how the light in your eyes start to dim. Red, and swollen, and tear rimmed – they stare back at him, wordlessly pleading for any type of mercy.

Nyen ignores it, choosing to grab your injured thighs and hike them over his broad shoulders, angling even deeper inside of you. Tight muscles draw him closer, grunting at the feeling of your warmth enveloping him. “Shit, you're a greedy fucking thing, aren't you?” He spits at you, grabbing your face to make sure your eyes stay on him, inches separating your faces. 

You don't respond, hoarse cries and moans are all the sounds you can make. Nyen’s mask taunts you, wide eyes never leaving yours as his nails scratch at your chest and waist, marking and trailing. Nyen’s nails even have the nerve to dig into your open wounds, forcing the blood to escape even faster. 

Any pleas you can muster out fall on deaf ears, and you almost wish he killed you before all this. But then it clicks that this is all just a game to him – you're simply a toy. The evil grin on his face is evident of this, he's truly enjoying watching this horrible scene come undone by his hands. The chase, the torture, your cries . It only makes his heavy cock harder and his thrusts sloppier. 

Your head is woozy and your vision is getting blurry. Numbness circuits through your body, the only thing you can feel is the sensation of his cock ramming into you over and over again. 

Nyen lets go of your face and chooses to grab at your bouncing tits, squeezing hard enough to create bruises. His twitching cock then rubs inside of you perfectly . A loud whine follows that causes Nyen’s jaw clench at the sudden extra pressure around his length, “Ah, hgh,– take my cum like the pathetic bitch you are,”

Stars in your vision soon mix with the stars in the night sky, you can't feel your legs anymore, neither your arms. Blood loss is getting to you – and quickly.

His body drives into yours, the sensation of gore under you squelches around against skin and dirt. Then, the knot building inside your numbing abdomen finally snaps, your breath hitches and you keen loudly – writhing around him.

Nyen soon follows, basically growling at how your pulsating pussy feverishly sucks him in and empties his balls. He rides the orgasm, fucking his cum deep inside you, and basking in the gripping release.

When he pulls out and off of you, your body limps on the ground. Overlooking, he can see how your lungs shallowly take in much needed air. Blood glistens off your cut adorned skin, and god is it a fucking beautiful sight.

He tucks his cock back into his blood soaked jeans, and he can already hear about how it's extra laundry to do now. But frankly, he doesn't care. Nyen gives you a once over, just to make sure the image of you really seeps into his brain. After well enough, he pockets his knife and walks over to the criminal leather bag that started this all. 

Suddenly, a weak grip holds onto his ankle. You.

You look at him with big, lidded eyes and croak out, “Wait… wait– am I… am I going to die?” He stares back at your frightened face with his reactionless one. It's quick before he gives you a sinister smile, then he yanks his ankle out from your grasp and grabs the bag that lays beside you. 

“Yeah, probably.” He then pulls a cigarette out of his back pocket and lights it, flicking hot ash onto your chest. 

“You were a good fuck though, I’ll give you that.” It’s patronizing. A final tear streams down your cheek as you watch him walk into the fog of the trees without another word.

You stare at the sky once again, leaves sway above and let moonlight peek through. Your inhales seem to be getting shorter and shorter, but you don't realize. You just pay attention to the movement of the leaves and the formation of stars. 

Grass picks at the back of your head, it’s soft – one of the only things you can feel besides excruciating pain. You let it be your pillow, the comfort that is ever fleeting from your grasp. 

This wasn't a fate you ever expected to have, it wasn't even proper death. It all makes you want to get up and fight for yourself. To live. He wasn't going to win. 

But reality sinks in when your vision fills with black spots, and you remember you're actively bleeding out, abused and hurt. Dying. It hurts to move, and the lone thought of welcoming it reverberates in your mind. It’s okay… It’s okay… 

With a final breath and ringing ears, darkness finally mercifully consumes you. 

To the dirt you were born, to the dirt you return to. 

And to the dirt you will rise up from again. 

[wizzperrrs]

you’ve been giving toji massive amounts of attitude for the entire day, and he’s tired of it.

whining and complaining about anything possible, slipping in snarky responses whenever something didn’t go your way.

so, he decided to show you how to get rid of that behaviour.

“you think i’ll let you get—fuck—away with this kind of shit, huh?” a smirk runs across his face while pounding into you from behind. forcing you up on your hands and knees, keeping you up by his bicep wrapped around your neck, clasping you with his arm.

“t-toji! fuckfuckfuck—i didn’t mean iiit—“ you whimper and whine, water bundling up in your tear ducts. but of course, you were enjoying this. enjoying him manhandling you.

he uses his other hand to press onto the mattress, keeping his balance along with yours so you and him didn’t fall together—all while stretching you the fuck open because your mouth was just the same the whole day.

you moan through every thrust, his hips slapping across the back of your thighs, keeping up his animalistic and merciless pace behind you, keeping you in a headlock with his beefy arms.

“p-please toojiii, i’m almost there—“

“until i tell you to cum, you’re not going to anytime soon. so fucking hold it in you—shit—bratty slut.” his balls slap across your clit various times repeatedly, your hormones shooting through the roof.

“please! c-can’t take it anymooore—“ you pant and moan so audibly you’re convinced your neighbors can hear everything.

your slick make a squelch noise everytime he fucks into you, your pussy talking back just as much as you did.

“gotta fuck this— mmph— attitude out of ya. thinking you can talk to me like that.” he pants right in your ear, sweat trickling down his forehead, his thick fucking thighs using his muscle strength to press his meaty girthy cock into you harder and harder, his tip practically making out with your cervix.

“y-yes! toji, fuck—right thereee!” you cry, a tear running down your cheek, gripping the sheets like it’s your last hope.

“wan’ me to keep going, huh? hehe,” toji chuckles, shoving his nose in your hair, sniffing it to relieve him, embracing your scent.

he feels your pussy clenching and your legs shaking, when suddenly…

he pulls out.

you rip your eyes open, the arm around your neck no longer there. “tojiii.. why’d you stop?”

“tch. you think you deserve to feel good after the way you talked to me, huh, brat? you’re funny.” he’s sitting there, gripping his own dick, stroking himself.

“toji—“ you turn around, “please.. ‘m sorryyy..”

“kneel forward towards me. goooddd, just like that. arch that fucking back.” he strokes himself harder and faster, his other hand fondling his balls.

“toji, can i at least—“ you’re silenced when out of nowhere his hot, thick sappy cum shoots on your face, landing on your lashes, your lips, and your cheek.

“heh. look at your dumbass, letting me shoot on your face like a dumb fucking slut. that’s what you are.”

you lick the corner of your lips in surprise, tasting his salty, bitter, but sweet cum.

toji drags his thumb across your cheek, collecting his nut and shoving his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to taste it.

you let out a muffled whimper, tasting it in obedience.

“now. prove to me you deserve to cum, sweets.”

written by wizzperrrs on tumblr!

[aspacewar]

Hiii I wanna hear more about the vampire/mortal duo! I'm not gonna say tell us everything but I'm such a sucker for such narratives I need the lore :D (If you have a reference post for them somewhere and I missed it in sorryyy)

Ooooooh lord where do I even begin hahahaha

I don’t have a ref post for them but I do have a tag (#Jet x Seven tag) for things that remind me of them & I’ll link their toyhouse pages to their names

Jet: Dhampir turned by an abusive ex (vampire named Calista) who, upon running away after being turned, was given shelter by Seven. Definitely doesn’t desperately want to bite Seven.

Seven: NPC Human* (mutant & some other weird shit the DM has alluded to but not revealed is going on) orphan who survived human experimentation along with 10 other mutant orphaned children to become a withdrawn, ornery artificer with serious emotional intimacy issues.

(Moodboard covered in tumblr posts and things from Pinterest I made for them as part of a set for each of Jet’s crazy situationships a while back & then the disaster duo themselves, credit to kankalin here on tumblr for the art)

TL;DR of what’s below the cut:

WILDLY codependent roommates in undefined, unspoken situationship that everyone else in the world with functioning eyeballs immediately clocks as 2 very damaged people deeply in love with each other but unable to verbalize it. Jet is torn between wanting to find a way to become mortal or a way to make Seven immortal so they don’t have to face the prospect of a life without him; Seven is responsible for Jet being a dhampir in the first place and would do (or become) whatever they asked, so long as it meant they wouldn’t leave him. They are obsessed with each other, deeply unwell, and I adore them — I could post some of the fic I’ve written based on the biggest story-beats of their relationship in a separate post but I’ll leave it for now haha

Jet and Seven originally did not get along at ALL but over the ~4.5-5 years they spent as roommates pre-campaign, they slowly formed an at-first shaky bond that gradually morphed into an extremely close partnership that both refused to remotely acknowledge the intimacy or codependency of until about a quarter of the way into the campaign when Calista was formally introduced as an antagonist and threatened to take Jet away. Things got even more codependent and fraught after that point lmao but I’ll not write a whole novel here.

Jet knew Seven had some sort of secret history with Calista he wouldn’t talk about, but didn't know that it was because Seven was technically responsible for her being able to turn Jet into a dhampir. (Vampirism is conferred via a half-arcane, half-technological ritual in the DM’s homebrew setting and the methodology of said ritual has been lost for ~600 years, but Calista was attempting to replicate it through trial and error to rebuild her nearly-extinct vampiric house.) Seven helped her with her research out of desperation to find a way to resurrect his dead siblings, and abandoned the project upon realizing the harm it would do, but had already made enough progress that while Calista could not fully turn Jet, she was able to make them a dhampir.

Seven never told Jet because at first he was just guilty, and then he was guilty + also way too attached to be able to handle them leaving (which he assumed they would if they found out the truth.) Jet did eventually find out and was initially devastated, but eventually forgave Seven since he didn’t intend to harm them specifically and has spent the last 5 years doing literally everything in his power to protect them and has never once hurt them or otherwise betrayed their trust during that time.

The two of them have spent the entire campaign taking literal bullets for each other and exchanging promises to never leave the other’s side or stop fighting to keep each other safe, recently discovered their literal actual souls are bound together by the strength of their devotion, but literally only JUST (as in within the last ~24-48 hours in-game) got to the point where Jet FINALLY formally asked Seven on a real date and they officially became a couple. (Seven was first mentioned by name in session 1, first appeared in session 6, and we’re going into session 85 on Sunday, for an idea of just how insanely long of a slow-burn they’ve been on.)

Anyway they’re both completely insane and I have never been more utterly, rabidly possessed by a ship in my life.

[iwaasfairy]

Hey! Do you have any recommendations for dark blogs like yours? I’ve been away from tumblr for a while and most of the people I follow aren’t active anymore.

I'm really sorry but I haven't had too much time to actually read for the last 2 years so I don't know a lot of dc writers that I love except from my older go-to's. you know, rhi, lee, sadly ren is no longer active, kaz is gone, weese and angel and miki and grace are all pretty absent,,, lydz and nette are still a little active i think? @/seijorhi, @/ceo-of-daichi and @/mulberrysilk

for newer people you'll have to go on a bit of your own journey im afraid, i don't know most of the dc newbies sorryyy <33

[mekatrio]

anime con log diary whatever

the epic outfit for today:

thankfully no traffic so that was epic. i was there pretty early (10:30-ish) so it was easy to find parking. got lost in the mall for like ten minutes until me and friend found some staff members for the con, and they showed us the way. the entrance was rly out of the way lol, usually theres two point of entries, but one was out of service. u had to follow a rly specific path to get there. there were also a bunch of buddha statues near the entrance stairway?

idk what was up with that. anyways since we were early there was no queue for us to get in. very nice. also its the weekday so i heard that theres significantly less ppl here today than there'll be the next two days. also very nice.

several booths were still being set up while we walked around. we checked out the official vendors first before checking out the artist alley, which was the main reason we were there. immediately my friend finds and starts buying some hoyoverse merch. i check the booths out w her for a while and then i get myself a green tea latte. then we check out the goodsmile booth and i find these

very cool but i do not get them, bc 1.) expensive, and 2.) i do not like plastic figurines. i also stop my friend from buying a persona 5 joker figurine. she goes and buy some more hoyoverse stuff instead. then we go check out the artist alley... and then friend realizes she left her water bottle somewhere. and as per usual with the cons i go to w her, we are seperated. and then we meet up again, but not before i buy two epic items:

i am sooo happy w these two purchases 💜 they were the only ones of their kind, so im glad i got them when i did. the gengar plush will live on my purple bag and be gomamons new neighbor, like so:

^ this was also how my bag looked for the rest of the day 🤭 yayyyy 💞 anyways after looking thru the artist alley some more, we take a break to get some food. cuz we barely had anything for breakfast and we are fucking starving. the food area looks like this:

and everything there was unsurprisingly expensive lol. me and friend get the cheapest thing there, which are pizzas

tho im kinda starting feeling nauseous at this point.. and have to keep myself from throwing up. thats what happens when u take supplements + drive + drink a green tea latte on a nearly empty stomach and little sleep. dont do that. so i go to the bathroom and freshen up, and eventually i feel better. i eat three slices of pizza and give the last slice to friend, and sadly have to throw away the rest of the latte or i would feel sick again. but i feel way better now that ive eaten.

we then spend the next two hours going thru the rest of the artist alley. me and my friend joked abt the possibility of finding at least 1 (one) kgpr merch. or possibly tota merch. but unsurprisingly, there was absolutely none Lol. tho i did find vesperia merch instead

literally only one booth was selling vesperia merch haha. also surprisingly there were quite a few ace attorney merchs? its surprising to me cuz the last art event i went to only had one narumitsu sticker in the entire place. but here there were several

^like this artist, who i didnt know was based in malaysia! ive seen their comics on tumblr a few times. didnt buy from them tho, sorryyy.. anyways, various pics from the artist alley:

after we finished looking thru the artist alley and had bought our fill of art (and good god did my friend buy loads of art), i checked out a second hand vendor that i saw earlier. they had loadssss of stuff, and me and friend spent a good 15 minutes digging thru this massive tub of pins and keychains in hopes of finding smth good

i was rly hoping to find something tota or kgpr in here, cuz if they were anywhere in this convention they would be here.. but sadly there was none haha. it was rly funny digging thru this thing, i kinda felt like a racoon/archeologist. oh but i did find these two pins which made me laugh

and in the end i found and bought a bunch of revue starlight merch + a cute embroidered pin

and then after that we finally left the con.. we spent a good 5 hours in there. we went to a store for me to grab some stuff for home, then played 2 rounds of taiko hehe (6 songs total). then we went to grab some food

^ the mall the convention is in also has a fucking river flowing thru it lol. i remember seeing this as a kid, its been over ten years since ive last been here

then i drove my friend home in ATROCIOUS weather... omfg it was raining so heavily. and stupid navigation app sent me to drive on some nearly flooded roads 😑😑😑😑 but we made it in one piece and i chilled in her room for a bit. she took a pic of everything she brought... which was SO MUCH LOL

^her haul. and then finally i arrived back home.. here is my comparatively much smaller haul:

but yayy it was a fun day today ✌️ but now i have work tomorrow.. bahhhh

[glyxy-wvs]

Hello. I was reading some Mammon angst fics and yours popped up after I kept clicking all the recommended fics at the end of each post 😂 I was wondering if you'll ever continue everything stays? I remember I followed you for that fic and tried to stay updated about it. I would always dig up for it when I was away from tumblr, but it seems there wasn't a part 2 😭

HELLO OMG 😭😭😭 IM SO SORRYYY i haven't been active with obey me and Tumblr lately :(( it's been a while since ive written some fics especially obey me and since im already at a part of life where i graduate high school, it's a bit hard multitasking everything. 😭 THOUGH whoever you are, i am very thankful and i super duper appreciate you for reading my fics :)) maybe someday there's a part 2 and I'll write it just for you :) 💞 thankyou so much for still reading my fics, that means a lot to me. Im more active on twt so maybe I'll try posting it there too :) @/_maplerin99821. have a great day anon im so sorry for such a late reply:(

[daybreakx]

✑ pairing: bodyguard! hwiyoung x fem! reader. 

✑ genre: enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, slow burn.

✑ warnings for this part: minor car accident, blood, mentions of murder, fighting, break ups, guns, politics(?). lmk if i missed any! hyphens (–) and asterisks (✳︎) are used to separate paragraphs since tumblr won’t let me add the proper space.

✑ word count: 5.6k (sorryyy I won’t make the next parts this long)

✑ a/n: i know this is a very long shot, but i hope you enjoy this fic as much as i am enjoying writing it. very special thanks  to @itsjeonghananon who puts up with me, my rambles, and my google docs shenanigans and read this before anyone else!♡ also please spare a reblog for this poor content creator. thanks!

membership holders: @milkybonya @pinutbutterjelly @kristyxoxo @naminalati @lolalee24​♡

ALL IT TOOK to get Hwiyoung in your life was a dent in your car. Well, to be fair it was a little bit more than a dent in your car, but at least it hadn’t been totaled. 

And it hadn’t been your fault. 

Some ass ran the red light, crashed into the passenger side of your beautiful BMW, dragging you to the other side of the street and then, had the audacity to run away. It sounds worse than it was, really. Of course your dad obsessed about it though, thinking someone had done it on purpose because you were his daughter. 

Senator y/ln’s—and future Governor y/ln— daughter, had obviously become a target. Took long enough, a couple months of campaign and a few years being a Senator. It didn’t matter how many times you told him it had been an accident. It was raining and the stupid driver hadn’t seen the light changing to red, they’d gotten scared once they realized what type of car was now embedded in the opposite corner of the street and therefore, ran away so as to not to pay for the damage. 

You didn’t need a bodyguard, or more like a babysitter. You were old enough to take care of yourself and it had been one accident. 

But no, since a few days ago and probably until forever, you were stuck with Hwiyoung 24/7. 

“Please do not take that with you,” you requested, trying to input as much authority as you could muster into your voice while giving a pointed look to Hwiyoung’s gun holster, under his suit jacket.

“I have to.” Hwiyoung replied, in that it’s-so-obvious tone he gave you almost every time he talked to you. Which wasn’t very often. 

From the moment he met you, Hwiyoung seemed to have already made up his mind about you. So all he’d said was his name and how he would take ‘really good care’ of you, this being mostly directed at your dad, because he gave him the job and it was Hwiyoung’s duty to keep it now. 

“No, you don’t,” you insisted, pointing to the gun directly with your right hand. The one that wasn’t wrapped up in a black brace, still from the car thing. “Leave it.”

“No.” Hwiyoung’s upper lip twitched slightly in annoyance. You two held this discussion every single day before you left the house. “Are you ready to go–” he seemed to dig the word out of the depths of his throat before letting it out. “Miss?”

Hwiyoung had taken the job because he needed it, not because he wanted it. He needed to get out of Chanhee’s apartment, to stop sleeping on his couch and taking on the underground fighting challenges anyone threw his way just to be able to ‘help a little’ with the rent. 

He’d hit rock bottom six months before. Lost his job, his girlfriend and his pride. Former detective Kim Hwiyoung had fucked up, after the system let one of the animals he took so much pride in chasing, walk free after murdering his whole family. Hwiyoung had lost it although it wasn’t the first time it happened, that they let a man live without consequence. But he’d almost jumped the accused in court, it had taken three officials to hold him back and then he’d been suspended. 

Hwiyoung became angry, disobedient and to be honest, slightly violent. And after three reports for insubordination, a gunshot wound that kept him in the hospital for two weeks and his partner begging for another person—anyone really— to take Hwiyoung’s place, they gave him the boot.

Iseul left him when the underground fighting started. She couldn’t and didn’t have to put up with him. Yes, she loved him and she’d said so even as she left the promise ring he gifted her on their third anniversary on the kitchen table. No screaming, no fighting, nothing from either side. 

Hwiyoung sometimes thought he should have fought. Or better yet, begged. Begged her not to leave him, promised that he would change and stop coming home with bloody knuckles, slashed eyebrows and busted lips. But he didn’t, because he knew he wouldn't keep the promise longer than a week.

–

“Not until you leave that,” you pressed. “Now.”

“I’ve already said no,” he ran two fingers through his black hair, something he did every time he was starting to get pissed. Opening the SUV’s door, he signaled inside. “You don’t want to be late.”

You didn’t want to be late, no. But you didn’t want him carrying a gun around not ever. It made you anxious and frankly, he wouldn’t need it. What exactly was he keeping you safe from? Nothing suspicious had happened to you before the car accident, so Hwiyoung’s presence was useless. It would have sufficed with a chauffeur, not a bodyguard.

You cringed to yourself the moment the thought crossed your mind. 

Spoiled brat.

Not that you acted like that usually, but you knew it still would come across wrong. 

Hwiyoung looked at you through the rearview mirror, like he’d guessed what you thought and agreed with you. So you looked away, emphasizing the scowl on your lips as he left the house’s garage. 

_

“Oh, he’s so handsome!” your friend gushed, leaning over the mimosa on her side of the table one inch away from spilling it all over.

“Eh,” you replied, shrugging. You knew exactly what she was looking at, or who. Hwiyoung a few tables away, already on his fourth cup of coffee, looking around the restaurant and letting his gaze fall over the two of you exactly every two minutes. “I guess so.”

“You guess so?” Aya raised her eyebrows, grabbing the mimosa and sipping it. “Girl he’s literally—”

“Don’t, please.”

You’d heard it once, so you heard it a thousand times. Every place you went to, everyone spoke about how tall and handsome Hwiyoung had to watch your back, and that had to be some sort of lucky strike. Having to hang out with someone like that must be amazing.

Only it wasn’t. But it didn’t matter that you said Hwiyoung was bitter and lowkey rude, everyone in their right mind could overlook that, focusing only on the stray strand of black hair that fell in the middle of his forehead, his dark eyes and broad shoulders, his figure accentuated by the black suit he wore per your father’s orders. 

“Fine,” Aya made a scene of capturing her lower lip as she pronounced the ‘f’. “But he is.”

A glare from you and a laugh on her part and Hwiyoung was back at staring at the two of you.

“Whatever, really.” you sipped your own mimosa, glad that since the weekend was approaching Hwiyoung and you could take a break from each other. Or as much a break that living in the same property allowed. 

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

Hwiyoung was back on Chanhee’s couch on Friday night. At least this time it wasn’t out of need, he just wanted to hang out with his friend. Okay, honestly he needed to hang out with his best friend. 

“So,” Chanhee started, leaving a newly opened bottle of beer right next to the one Hwiyoung had just emptied. “Tough week at work?”

Hwiyoung groaned, his lips on the new brown bottle already.

“I’ll take that as a yes,”

“She’s a princess. It’s—” gross? exhausting? his only damned chance at getting back on his feet and that’s why he hated it?

But there was also the fact that he did think of you as a princess. All he’d done all week was follow you around brunch dates with noisy—and nosy— friends, shopping, public events where your main task was to smile and wave and pose for photographs next to your father. 

At least now he had a house, or something like it. A one-bedroom-and-kitchen-mini-thing on the oh so prestigious y/ln realm. At least he had a salary which he got paid by the week, meaning he paid off his debt to Chanhee the moment he showed up at the apartment that night. 

So yeah, after being a Homicides Detective he was taking care of a spoiled brat, Iseul wouldn’t talk to him and he still felt like he would go crazy from time to time. But at least he wasn’t sleeping on a couch anymore. 

And the fighting had stopped. Although he didn’t want it to, it was a release every time he was in that filthy, illegal ring. But he couldn’t afford to go to work looking like he’d taken (and given) a beating.

“They’re the new royalty, that family,” Chani said plopping down next to him on the couch. “But at least you’re getting paid.”

Hwiyoung rolled his eyes. It was true, his boss was the soon to be king of the city and of course the daughter would be the princess. Both of them already believed themselves in that role, what could be different once it was made official? Senator y/ln had everyone in his pocket already. 

“Not enough,” he said bitterly, gulping the beer down and suddenly really, really missing being in the ring, getting his hands dirty. 

THE DINNER PARTY was going to take place at the Crown Hotel’s main ballroom. One of the last ones your dad offered as the campaign closing approached. Everything and anything to thank his team and supporters.  And of course you had to attend. Because voters loved seeing a happy family and a faithful daughter supporting her father on his way to (even greater) success. So there you were on a  warm Friday night, in a dress far more expensive than needed be, sitting next to your father while he spoke to whomever he deemed important to assure him a win in the election. 

Your father was a good person, and he loved you, of course. Otherwise he wouldn’t have forced you to keep Hwiyoung by your side for two months now. Hwiyoung, who looked bored out of his mind as he stood in the corners of the room, switching positions with the rest of the security team every few minutes so they all could have a look around and probably not fall asleep on the post.

But your father was also ambitious and sometimes appearances mattered to him more than they should. And he didn’t care that sometimes instead of his daughter, you were his tool. Because young people could feel related to you, and you looked delighted in every picture the press took of you and the way you looked didn’t hurt either. It was a running joke—one you abhorred—that you were the visual attraction of the campaign, and that your father got requests for your hand in marriage very often. 

You could only hope that his ambition didn’t cloud his judgment enough to actually sell his own daughter out.

“I think I should go home,” you whispered to your father, as the ballroom started to clear out. Only the very important people would remain behind and the politics discussions that would take place were not of your interest. Plus, you had to be up early the next day.

Your father squeezed your arm gently, thanking you for joining him before placing a kiss on your cheek. “Make sure Kim calls when you get home safely,”

You nodded. “Good luck.”

A signal from your father’s hand and Hwiyoung was on the move, ready to escort you back to the car. He didn’t say a word, but that wasn’t unusual. After two months on the job, you were used to him only speaking when necessary, his range going from ‘yes, miss’ ‘no, miss’ and ‘ok’. 

You walked behind Hwiyoung to the underground parking lot, holding the lower part of your dress so as not to trip while the voices of your father’s team became more distorted with the distance. Arriving at the lobby, you were met by a crowd of photographers, the hotel’s security struggling to make them leave and stop disturbing the rest of the guests. 

You smiled at them politely as Hwiyoung parted the crowd, lips curling when reporters got too close or too loud, shouting questions on what you were going to do if your father became the Governor, or how you were going to spend his (and the city’s) money. You made no reply, there had been worse things shouted at you and written about you in the papers. Including the exaggeration of the accident where they said you totaled the BMW, but didn’t care because daddy would buy you a new one in the blink of an eye.

Finally, you got rid of them as you took the elevator to the parking lot. Sighing you let yourself rest against the cool railing in the back of the cube, you were exhausted. Hwiyoung looked at you over his shoulder, his eyes becoming smaller as he took in your tiredness, he was judging you. 

“Did I do something to offend you?” you questioned as he opened the door of the SUV. Your BMW was good as new now, but on nights like these you still used the SUVs for security reasons. “Hwiyoung?”

His eyes, lost somewhere behind you as he held the door open, focused on you. “Why would you ask that, miss?”

“Well, you seem to dislike me more than usual tonight. Did I do something to offend you on this fine, and extremely busy workday?” you made sure your words dripped sarcasm, and remained with your feet on the greasy parking lot floor.

“Is this fun for you? Provoking your employees?” Hwiyoung scowled.

“Only when my employees hate their job yet for some reason won’t quit.” 

Hwiyoung was losing his patience, and it was very likely that, if he hadn't been interrupted by the car that was directing its headlights at the two of you, you would have kicked him out of the job. He bit the words threatening to spill back, squinting at the car to get a look at the driver, but it was impossible.

“Please get in,” he said then, not liking the way the lights were still focused on you. 

“Fine.”

You’re both inside in ten seconds, Hwiyoung turned the car on, its own headlights making it impossible to distinguish the car that was watching you as it leaves the parking lot before you.

“I can tell that you hate me,” you were watching him through the rearview mirror, noticing his grip on the steering wheel tightening at your words. “Your mind was made up even before your first day in this job, and I guess mine is made up now. So just do your job and try not to look so fucking bitter to have me around.”

Hwiyoung didn’t talk back, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. The metallic taste was the only thing that kept him focused on the way to your house as he avoided meeting your penetrating gaze in the mirror. 

“You’re spoiled,” he said after you had descended from the van and he’d shut the door with enough force to make the windows rumble. “You act like your life is difficult when all you have to do is smile and wave while looking pretty.”

“You’re right, I look damn good doing it,” you retorted, a dismissive gesture from your hand accompanying your words as you walked to the exit of the garage. “It’s kind of disappointing you couldn’t find a more original reason to hate me, Hwiyoung. I guess you’re as bright as they come.”

The insult stung, but he didn’t want to dig his grave deeper, so Hwiyoung gritted his teeth and stalked on the opposite direction you did, towards his stupid guest house.

IT WAS THE MONEY. It was obvious now, the reason Hwiyoung stayed under your father’s orders and in charge of your protection was the money. Once you realized that, it would be easier to deal with him, or so you thought. 

“We’re not going to have this discussion again,” Hwiyoung warned the moment he noticed the way you were eyeing the gun on his side. 

“Leave it,” you said all the same. 

“No,” 

You took a deep breath, looking at your watch. “I’ll double this week’s payment if you leave the gun today.”

Hwiyoung stopped to consider. Well, money was never enough. He could eventually use it to, what? Move away? Get a motorcycle? He wasn’t stupid enough to think money would bring Iseul back.

Iseul whom he missed most in the world and—

“Yes or no,” you stopped his train of thought in a second, making his attention return fully. “Simple question.”

“Fine,” Hwiyoung unfastened the holster tightened in the middle of his abdomen, before running back to his room to put it in the safe. All he would probably have to deal with were nosy reporters and your equally rich friends, he wouldn’t need the gun, and he was able to handle himself pretty well without it either way.

You were already inside the van when he came back, pressuring him to hurry up the moment he opened the driver’s door. 

Hwiyoung took a deep breath. Maybe if he had enough money he wouldn’t move away. He would just quit, like you’d suggested the night at the hotel, a couple weeks back.

“Please follow the GPS route I sent to your cell,” you indicated, your mood completely shifted due the lack of argument. See, things could go peacefully with Hwiyoung if he just listened.

“Sure, miss.” he replied, not even bothering to stare at you from the mirror this time. 

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

You stared at Hwiyoung for a long moment once you got out of the car. The BMW obviously stood out in the street, but you knew it was safe to leave it there, you’d come here a hundred times before.

“What?” he asked, opening his jacket to show you once again he wasn’t carrying a weapon. Which, to be honest was a lie, he had a pocket knife on the inside of the jacket. 

“Nothing. Let’s go,” you signaled the gray building down the street where you’d parked, making your way towards it without making sure Hwiyoung followed. 

Hwiyoung looked around, already expecting the reporters around. He had figured since he saw the address on his phone that this was another one of your incredibly important PR stunts where the princess of the city needed to be accessible and a saint at the same time. 

You glanced at him one last time before knocking on the door of the orphanage. Hwiyoung rolled his eyes behind you, if you asked him to take pictures of you himself… 

“Oh, hi y/n!” a woman in her late forties chirped as soon as she opened the door, “It’s great to see you.”

“Hi,” you smiled gently at her too, “I’m sorry for taking so long to come back, I had a couple issues and… well, nevermind.” 

“We still got everything you sent, thank you,” the woman squeezed your shoulder in a friendly gesture before fixing her eyes on your companion. “Hwang Narae,” she offered her hand.

Hwiyoung looked at you first but since you didn’t immediately say he was your employee, he took the woman’s hand. “Hwiyoung.”

A little girl popped her head from behind the woman’s legs, looking at Hwiyoung first since they were still shaking hands and then at you. “y/n!” her scream was piercing as she pushed both Narae and Hwiyoung out of the way to hug your legs.

“Hi Bora!”

Hwiyoung couldn’t help but frown as you lifted the small girl in your arms, her already speaking about everything you had missed in the month you hadn’t visited the place. Everyone seemed so familiar with you, it was strange. They all seemed to ignore your last name. He looked around again, expecting the reporters to come walking down the street already taking pictures before you disappeared inside. But they never came. 

You spent the morning reading to kids who stared at him suspiciously, before whispering in your ear and asking who he was. Your answer every time being ‘a friend who watches my back’. 

Hwiyoung stood back most of the time, only moving when a new volunteer arrived. He stared at them from afar and then returned his attention back to you as you let kids braid your hair and show you drawings. 

“Would it bother you to read for them with me?” you asked, showing him a book with a couple of bears on the cover. “They want a boy in the boy voice, I am offended, to be honest.”

Hwiyoung suppressed a smile as the kids looked at the both of you. “Why don’t you ask another volunteer? I have to keep my attention on–”

You frowned, there was only one other male volunteer and he honestly gave you the creeps a lot of the time. But Narae said he was good at fixing broken things, that's why he kept coming. “It will take ten minutes, Hwiyoung. And I really don’t want to ask someone else.”

“Fine,” he eyed the kids and nodded. “Let’s do it.”

Hwiyoung and you read some stories to the kids, taking turns at making the voices. Hwiyoung was trying his best not to burst out laughing every time you exaggerated your voice and kids asked him several times to read his with more enthusiasm, but in the end it turned out well. 

It was a brief moment as you closed the book and sent the kids to get ready for their lunch, that Hwiyoung thought you weren’t that bad. Everyone knew you and appreciated you, knowing you were there to help without looking for anything in return, not even publicity. You were still stuck-up, annoying and spoiled, but maybe not all of you was like that.

Narae approached quickly, a hand to her mouth while another volunteer led the kids to the dining room. 

“What’s wrong?” Hwiyoung asked, noticing the tension in her demeanor. 

“Um, something happened— the car—”

Hwiyoung told you to wait inside while he ran out to the street. He could hear the alarm as he ran to the car, and for a moment, he really wished he had a gun. Someone had tried and practically succeeded to destroy your precious BMW. All the windows were broken, the windshield caved towards the inside and the headlights completely shattered. But not even that was the worst part. 

The worst part was the word ‘WHORE’ keyed on the driver’s door. 

IT WAS USELESS to try and convince your father that nothing was happening. Especially when Narae had called the police before you could advise her against it and Hwiyoung needed to call the rest of the security team to pick you up, and they had realized he didn’t have his gun. 

So all hell broke loose in 20 minutes and it continued on to the evening, when your father losing his mind again, yelled at everyone on sight, taking a great amount of time on Hwiyoung himself. 

“What if the freak had still been around huh?” your father’s hand came down on the table, hard enough to make you flinch, even as you listened from upstairs. But Hwiyoung didn’t even flinch, he had been on your father’s side of the table countless times before at his old job. He wasn’t easily intimidated. “You couldn’t have done anything to protect my daughter, because you thought it a good a idea to leave your fucking gun!”

You had explained it had been your idea the moment the rest of the security team realized Hwiyoung was unarmed. You didn’t want a gun around children, this wasn’t supposed to happen and Hwiyoung didn’t have to take the blame for anything. 

But everyone refused to listen to you. 

“I should fire you right now!” another hit on the table, “You can’t even do your job right!”

Hwiyoung remained silent. He had given his version too, saying you were absolutely right about not wanting a weapon in the orphanage and added that he had a pocket knife anyway, but it didn’t matter. According to everyone you could have gotten killed and he was useless. 

“Get out of my sight,” your father finally lowered his voice, “I don’t have time to deal with you right now. But don’t get too comfortable, you might still be out of here by tomorrow.”

Hwiyoung nodded calmly, yet as he kept his hands inside his pockets, they turned into fists. 

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

HWIYOUNG TOOK THE hit directly to the jaw, his bare back hitting the dirt with a thud. One side of the crowd cheered while the other half booed, a few voices louder than the rest encouraged him to get up. They had bet a lot of money on him, and he was letting them down. 

Spitting blood to the dirt, he got up. The guy, his nickname was ‘Brick’ or something like that, was already smiling in triumph. Hwiyoung inhaled sharply, shaking the remnants of his dizziness.

What did it matter if it looked like he’d taken a beating at this point? Mr. y/ln had said he could still be out of the house by the next morning. Which brought him back to the exact place he’d tried to escape in the past months: rock bottom. 

No job.

He took a hit to the ribs, not without sinking his own fist in Brick’s stomach’s tender flesh. 

No girlfriend.

He wasn’t an idiot, he knew money wouldn’t bring Iseul back. But the day he went to see her, when he needed to be reminded that Iseul was completely different from you, that he dealt with you to get back on his feet. To show Iseul he was coming back from whatever dark place he’d fallen and they could rebuild what was between them. 

Hwiyoung never thought that it wouldn’t be Iseul who opened the apartment that they used to share, but an incredibly tall guy who stood there awkwardly as he looked at Hwiyoung in his work suit before Iseul came to the door and told Hwiyoung they couldn’t talk, not right then and apparently, not ever again.

Sweat dripped from his temple and covered the rest of his body by then. What did anything matter anymore? He slid away from the guy’s grip, turning around in the same fluid movement ready to meet him when he came back, his leg meeting Brick’s middle once again. 

The crowd cheered for Hwiyoung again when he elbowed the guy in the back and booed when he got brought to the ground again as Brick hugged his legs, and he kicked and kicked, finally making contact with his knee onto this night’s enemy’s nose with a gruesome crack. 

“You’re done!” The poor excuse of a referee this place had helped Brick up, blood, snot and tears already staining the rest of his face and down his bare chest.

Hwiyoung spat again, cracking his neck once he was back on his feet. His left eye was already swelling and he was sure the thing running down his temple wasn’t just sweat. But he’d won, he could afford a new week on Chani’s couch. 

“I need my money,” he said, throwing his shirt on.

The guy, still attending to Brick’s broken nose, threw him a bunch of bills tied together by a rubber band. “You should go missing again if you’re going to play like this,” he spat. 

Hwiyoung snorted. He wasn’t even the dirtiest player in the ring. “Or he should learn not to celebrate beforehand,” and anyway, he’d brought Hwiyoung to the ground dirty. Not that there were many rules in this fighting ring anyway.

“Get out of here,” the referee growled. It wasn’t just Hwiyoung that made him furious, he had to pay all of those who’d bet on him too.

“Gladly.”

YOU RAN OUT of the house as soon as you saw the lights on Hwiyoung’s guest house on. Although you were curious about where the hell he’d been all evening after the argument with your father, what was driving you to meet him was paying off your debt. And letting him know your father was not going to fire him, you had talked him down a few hours before, when he finally decided to listen to reason.

“I am telling you, dad,” you said, arms crossed above your chest. “It was not his fault. I did not want a gun around children, and I stand by it. When I go back to the orphanage he will be unarmed again.”

“You could have been seriously hurt,” your father didn’t raise his voice the way he’d done with Hwiyoung. Instead, he sounded exhausted. “And he wouldn’t have been able to do anything in case whoever did that to your car…”

“Dad, you didn’t hire him just because he could fire a gun, did you?”

To be honest, you had absolutely no idea what Hwiyoung used to do before he took this job. However, you knew your dad had seen something in him and whatever qualifications he had to hire him to take care of you, his precious daughter. 

“No but—”

“It would be unfair if you fired him, I’m just saying.”

“He cannot put you in danger again—”

“No one could have known what was going to happen, please dad. I believe I need him now, okay? I will stop complaining about having a bodyguard if Hwiyoung can keep his job.” you were surprised by your own words, but you felt guilty about getting him fired when a big part of the trouble had been caused by your coercing. 

Plus, what if the next bodyguard your father got you hated you more than Hwiyoung? You couldn’t go through the whole issue again. You had reached a certain level of understanding with Hwiyoung, you would rather keep it that way.

“Fine. But this is the last time.” your father agreed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

✳︎ ✳︎ ✳︎

You knocked on Hwiyoung’s door twice. Tapping your door against the entryway as you heard shuffling inside. 

“What?” Hwiyoung opened the door, clearly expecting someone else.

“What the hell happened to you?” you gasped, pushing the door open before he could shut it on your face.

“Are you here to tell me I’m fired?” Hwiyoung asked, his gaze following you as you made your way to the small bathroom. Probably checking he hadn’t left bloodstains that wouldn’t come off.

“Shut up,” you said, opening the bathroom cabinet. “Who did that to you?”

“Myself,” Hwiyoung held the door open, “You know, firing someone doesn’t usually take long. You can get started now.”

“You’re not fired,” you scoffed, grabbing bandages and antiseptic, both packaged unopened. “Yet.”

Hwiyoung tried to smile with irony, but winced. “You know, I was about to go to bed so it would be great if—”

“Sit down Hwiyoung,” you said, getting out of the bathroom. “You’re going to get an infection or something. Where the hell were you?”

“I can do this myself,” he said, still standing by the doorway. “I do not need you to play nurse.”

“Were you going to do it?” you raised an eyebrow at him, “You would have started by now.”

“I can do it now.”

“You know what? I’d like to play nurse and fire you at the same time. Humor me.” you pointed at the kitchen chairs and Hwiyoung finally shut the door. It was clear you weren’t leaving.

“Who taught you to fight?” you kicked his leg softly, standing between them as he spread on the chair reluctantly. 

Hwiyoung snorted, regretting it immediately as you dabbed a cotton ball against the cut on his forehead. “Are you seeing me? What makes you think I can fight?”

Dropping the cotton ball, you grabbed his hand. There was dried blood on his knuckles, indication that he’d gotten at least a few punches in.

“Lucky strikes,” he muttered, in a slight mocking tone. “We all have them.”

“Oh, so we should tell the police you got assaulted then?”

Hwiyoung took his hand back, like you’d burnt him. “No.”

“I have a feeling the other guy ended up worse, didn’t he?” you pointed at the knee of his pants, where Brick’s blood had dried up. “So you know how to fight.”

Hwiyoung rolled his eyes. “And?”

“And you’re going to teach me,” you moved on to clean the trail of blood from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. 

This time, Hwiyoung laughed audibly, grabbing his ribs when pain shot through them. 

“I’m not joking,” you poked his swollen cheekbone and he winced. “After today it’s clear I’m in danger. You’re keeping your job and this proves even more useful,”

“Seriously?” he questioned, although he wasn’t sure if he meant that he was keeping his job or that you really wanted to learn how to throw punches. 

“You cannot go back to wherever you did this,” you warned, shaking your head. “Do you understand?”

“What makes you think I’ll accept to stay?” 

You had walked away, opening the small fridge to try and find something he could put on his closing eye. “Because you still need the money, don’t you?”

Hwiyoung bit his tongue as you returned with a frozen package of vegetables he’d never gotten around to cook.

“Yes or no, simple question,” you said like you’d done hours prior. 

“Yes.”

“Then it’s settled. Put this on and tomorrow, when everyone notices you look like shit, say you broke up a bar fight.”

“Of course, boss,” the fact that you helped him didn’t mean he’d lose his sarcasm. 

You looked at the mess around the kitchen and shook your head. He could at least clean up after you had patched him. 

“And take a shower, you stink.” you conveyed, scowling.

Hwiyoung watched you leave, holding the vegetables against his face. He didn’t notice the money you left on the kitchen table until the next morning, inside a white envelope with his name on it in your handwriting.

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[glossvante]

Behind Closed Doors 01

Rated: M | 18+

Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre: High school/Step-Siblings, Explicit smut.

Word Count: 5.1k

Part: One | Two |

Warning: Step-siblings, Explicit & graphic sexual content, Alcohol consumption, Language

Summary: After moving to a new city, a rager of a party and an intense, all consuming, mindless fuck with a tall dark stranger seemed to be exactly what you were craving. A one night stand never hurt anyone, right? Until of course, that stranger turned out to be your new step brother.

Note: I’ve been looking for a new step-sibling Jungkook fic for a while and couldn’t find one so I decided to write it myself sdjkdjfjk. This chapter is more setting up the rest of the story but I hope you guys like it! Also, the other bts members make brief appearances as the story progresses, as well as a few blackpink girls. I’m newer to tumblr so if you like the fic please show some love & some feedback and I’ll upload part two soon. Love you guys and hope you enjoy ;).

Part One

You realized your room had turned into somewhat of a shit show while getting ready, as per usual. Nothing you couldn’t fix later though, you had enough on your mind right now. You were mildly panicked while getting dressed because you had to look at least somewhat attractive tonight. It was the first party you’d been invited since you moved here 3 weeks ago and you wanted to make a good impression. Moving away, changing high schools and leaving behind all your friends in the middle of the year wasn’t the most ideal situation for you, to say the least. You tried as long as you could to avoid accepting the reality of everything but the first day of school is when it really hit. Considering the fact that your last school wasn’t even half as big or well-funded as your new one, it was an adjustment figuring everything out. You were anxious about not knowing a single person the entire day until you met Lisa and Jennie in physics. The three of you guys sorta just clicked and became friends with ease. They showed you around and it relieved some of your social anxiety to know that there were at least a few cool people here.

Earlier in the day, Jennie texted you, inviting you to a party at her ex-boyfriends place. You hadn’t met him yet and were slightly confused as to why Jennie parties with her ex but she explained that her and Taehyung were cool with each other now. She also mentioned that pretty much everyone else in your senior class was going to be there too. Hence why you needed to look hot as fuck.

You studied your reflection in the mirror, deciding wether or not to change your outfit for the third time in the past 10 minutes. Yup, you needed to. You lifted the dress off of your body with a sigh and returned to your closet, hoping to find anything remotely cute at this point. Shortly after making another mess, you came across an old satin black dress. You picked it up and held it to your body, wondering if it would still fit, it had been a while since the last time you wore it. It couldn’t hurt to just try it on, you thought. You slipped the dress on over your head and adjusted it to your body before reaching towards the small of your back, praying to God it would zip up.

Finally, you were able to get it closed. You turned your body at all angles in the mirror to get an extensive view of your look. The dress had become a bit too form-fitting and an maybe an inch too short on you over time but you looked...good. Finally, you thought, you could work with this. You knew your mom would never let you get away with it though. To compromise, you decided to throw a sweatshirt on over the dress to cover up, at least until you left the house. You threw your lipgloss, phone, and all the necessities into your handbag and rushed downstairs to say goodbye to your mom.

You opened her rooms door and stuck your head in, shocked to see her getting ready to go out as well. “Where are you going?” You asked, confused. She didn’t mention she had any plans. “John invited me out. He said it’s a surprise.” She said excitedly, with half of her attention focused on styling her hair. “Again? The same guy?” You asked. After your parents divorced when you were young, your mom became somewhat of a serial dater. No one guy was ever right for her or stuck around long enough. If you were being honest, you stopped keeping track of your moms love life a while ago. “Yes the same guy.” She replied with a slight attitude. You were taken aback by that, this had to be the longest she’s been consistently seeing one guy. You knew she was glad you guys were able to find a house in the area, so she could see him more often but you didn’t think much of it at the time. Maybe she was finally starting to get serious with someone. You hadn’t met him yet but now, you were starting to get curious. “Alright, I’m gonna go but have fun on your date.” You replied getting ready to turn and leave. “Wait, you’re hanging out with Jennie tonight right? Tell her I say Hi.” She said. You almost forgot for a moment that you lied to her about the party. So what if she thinks you’re going to a girls night out with Jennie? You figured the less she knows, the less she’ll worry. And technically speaking, you weren’t really lying to your mom, you actually were going to hang out with her tonight. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. “Yeah, uh I will. See you later! Love you!” You said. “Okay bye, love you!” She replied as you left, shutting the door behind you.

-

You almost thought you had the wrong address when your gps began taking you up into the hills. Even though you were new to the area, you knew only rich people lived up here. Your jaw dropped when you finally pulled up to your destination, going back to your texts to make sure you put the right one in. It was a massive house, like some shit you’d see in a magazine or on TV. Jennie’s ex must be rich rich you thought to yourself. There were a bunch of cars parallel parked on the side of the street, so you pulled in and did the same. It really did seem like everyone was here. You quickly checked yourself in the car mirror, reapplying your lip and fixing your hair before heading inside. You could hear loud music pour out of the function as soon as you stepped out of your car, thankfully there weren’t many other houses nearby to complain about the noise. One of the many perks of living in luxury you supposed.

Your anxiety started to kick in as you headed in through the front door with a few strangers, losing them in the crowd as you entered. Woah. You definitely didn’t go to parties like this at your old school. Red neon lights saturated the air in every room, a dense cloud of smoke lingered above the crowd and the music followed you wherever you went. You tried to take it all in as made your way through the crowd hoping to find a single recognizable face. You walked through the living room and entered the kitchen, shocked by how many bottles of alcohol were just laying around, expensive ones too. You poured yourself a diluted mixed drink in attempt to calm your nerves.

“Y/N!!!!!” You heard you’re name in a high pitched scream from behind you. It was Jennie, she jumped up and gave you a hug from behind. “I was looking for you! God you scared me.” You admitted with a laugh. “Oops sorryyy.” She apologized, she was entirely too giggly and spoke with a slur. You could tell she was a few drinks ahead of you. “You look so hot tonight what the fuck?” She exclaimed, a too little loud. “Thanks.” You said with a smile, flattered by the compliment. “What are you doing?” She asked looking down at your cup. “You need a shot! Not whatever this is. Do one with me!” She pleaded, you considered it for a moment. “I don’t know, I don’t wanna get too drunk.” You explained. She rolled her eyes at that. “Okay bitch, first of all why not, and second of all come on! A couple shots never hurt anyone.” You saw the look on her face, Jennie could be pretty convincing when she wanted to be. Fuck it right? After all, you were at a party. “Okay fineee.” You agreed reluctantly. She was ecstatic at your response, immediately reaching for a dark liquor and pouring both of you a shot. You clinked glasses before taking them down, feeling an immediate bitterness in your mouth and a warmth in your chest. “That tastes like shit.” You told her, wiping a drop from your lips. She laughed at that. “Trust me you can’t even feel it after a few.” She poured another shot for you and herself. You both braced yourselves and took it back. She lied, the second one definitely tasted worse. You cringed from the taste. “The faces you make are too funny.” Jennie teased while laughing. She reached for the bottle one more time and started to pour another round. “Are you trying to get me drunk? Cus if you want me or something just say that.” You said, trying to holding back your laughter. She shoved you in response, only mildly amused by your words. “I hate you.” She handed you the last shot and you both took it down.

No Idea by Don Toliver began playing loudly from the speakers and Jennie screamed in response. “Ah! I love this song! Dance with me?”Jennie asked, extending her hand to you. You rolled your eyes before taking it, allowing her to drag you to the living room. You weren’t exactly a talented dancer, like Jennie, so usually you’d feel a bit awkward while dancing but that wasn’t the case tonight. Maybe it was just because the crowd was so live or the music was thumping or those shots you just took, but you were feeling right. Jennie put her hands on your waist and pulled you closer to her, guiding you into the rythym. You both moved as if your bodies had synced with the music, dancing all over each other. For a moment it felt like you and everyone else in the room were on the same wavelength. While dancing, you locked eyes with a guy leaning against a the wall, a distance away from you. His eyes were dark and peircing, shaded by long locks of his jet black hair. He took a sip of his drink and a slight smirk crept onto his face as he realized he’d caught your attention, as if he’d had his eyes on you for a while. You kept your focus him on while you were dancing, observing him as he gave you a long look from your head to your toes.

In the midst of the moment, the two of you were interrupted by Jennie. “There’s no fucking way.” She said, shocked. You quickly turned your attention to her, wondering what she was talking about. Her smiled had faded and her body stilled as she looked at something in the crowd. As if she had seen something she wished she didn’t. “Jennie.” You said concerned. You tried to follow her line of sight to see what was going on, scanning the room. “What’s wrong?” You asked loudly, leaning into her. “Fucking Taehyung.” She gestured towards a far corner. You turned to look, only to see a guy you assumed to be Taehyung with his tongue halfway down some girls throat and his eyes on Jennie. He winked at her, like he was glad that she had seen. Gross. You couldn’t help but feel shitty for her. Guess everything with them wasn’t cool after all.

“I’m sorry. Fuck him.” You said loudly, trying to console her over the sound of the music. You could see she was hurt but she hid it behind a wall of anger. “Two can play at that game you know.” She replied calmly. “I invented that game.” You hadn’t really seen her like this before, she was lethal and you could feel it. She pulled away from you. “I’ll be back.” She shouted. “Wait what? where are you going?” You asked, worried about her. “I’m fine I just have to do something. I’ll find you later okay? Sorry!” She said, before walking away, leaving you in the middle of the crowd. You didn’t fully believe her when she said she was fine but if she wanted some time alone, you were gonna let her have it. It didn’t stop you from worrying though.

You sighed before shuffling your way out of the living room and to a quieter spot against the wall. You pulled out your phone to check it. You sent a few snaps to some old friends and a text to update your mom so she wouldn’t worry. After that, you headed back into the kitchen in search of something to drink that wasn’t hard liquor. All that dancing made you thirsty. You opened the fridge, allowing the light from inside to pour out, mixing with the neon red tint already in the air. You bent over to look inside for a water bottle, juice, or even a godamn soda. After shuffling some things around, you came up dry. All you could find was extra beer. Did these people only drink alcohol? You shut the door of the fridge in disappointment and turned to walk away, only to be stopped by the view in front of you. The same eyes you spotted from a distance earlier were now right in front of you. You studied all of him for a moment, just now being able to get real look at him. He was leaned against the kitchen island coolly, looking right at you. It wasn’t hard to figure out that he was attractive, in pretty much every single physical way there was. You found yourself admiring his style and shiny silver rings over his black ink tattoos. You nearly let yourself get lost in his picture before the thought occurred to you. How long had he been standing there? You immediately felt timid, realizing that if he was there for long enough, he for sure had a perfect view of your ass while you were bending over in the fridge. Now was probably a good time for you to stop starting at him say something, like anything.

“Hi.” You said, regretting it immediately. Hi? Really? In your defense, it was all you could get out in front of his naturally intimidating presence. At least you broke the silence, you thought. “Hi.” He responded with a soft smile on his face. “How come I haven’t seen you around here before?” He inquired, taking a sip from his red solo cup. “I uh.. I just moved here a couple weeks ago.” You explained, wondering why he had taken a sudden interest in specifically you. “Ah that explains it.” He said nonchalantly. “Explains what?” You raised an eyebrow. “Why we haven’t hung out before.” He finished. It was obvious to you he meant more with his words by the look on his face. “So is that why you were watching me earlier? You wanna ‘hang out’ with me?” You teased, being thankful that alcohol gave you more courage than you ever would have sober. He chuckled at that before taking a step toward you. You notably felt your heart rate increase. There was a part of you that wanted to take a step back, increasing the space between you two but you ultimately ignored it. He leaned into you to speak in your ear, just loud and close enough so you could hear his words and feel the warmth on his breath on your neck. “You know why I was watching you dance, just like I know why you’re still standing here, talking to me.” He withdrew slightly, now facing you. His focus shifted from your eyes down to your lips for just a moment before returning. Fuck. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t melt a little right there. He was confident if anything, and nothing turned you on more. You could smell the alcohol on him, his lips still wet from his most recent sip. Lust and drinks were dangerous combination and he seemed determined to get his fix.

”So what are you going to about it?” You asked calmly, faking just enough confidence to pretend like he didn’t have you dying inside. A devilish smirk appeared on his face as if he were playing out the answer in his head. You could feel yourself get warmer, your cheeks had to have been noticeably red by now. You had an overwhelming feeling he could see right through you. He didn’t give you an answer and instead, pulled away returning to his drink, seeming all too satisfied with himself and his effect on you. “Hey!” You heard a voice call out to you from a distance, both of you turned to look at the source. It was Jennie, finally returning. Worse timing just didn’t exist, you thought. She gestured at you to come near her and you nodded in agreement. Hesitantly, you pulled away from the kitchen but not before sharing one last loaded look with those dark eyes, as if there was more to be said, more to be done, and not nearly enough hours in the night for any of it. He let you leave without a word, and the interaction lingered fresh in your mind.

You walked up to Jennie. “Hey! Where’d you go?” You asked. “I kinda did something bad.” She admitted. You were instantly curious and slightly worried at the same time. “Don’t scare me, what happened?” You asked. She hesitated a moment before answering. “I kinda... blew Tae’s best friend. In his bed.” She laughed, covering her smile with her hand. What? You were wondering if you heard that right. “No you fucking didn’t. Who?!” You inquired in awe, shocked but impressed at the lengths this girl would go to for revenge. You made a mental note to not get on her bad side. “Jimin.” She pointed him out in the crowd so you could put a face to the name. “He’s always had a thing for me so it was easy.... and quick.” She joked, now making you laugh, you shook your head, still in a state of disbelief. Okay so obviously, Jennie wasn’t the best at dealing with her hurt and her & Taehyung definitely didn’t have the most healthy relationship but they’ve been on and off for like two years now, you figured they’re probably used to shit like this. And even if you didn’t completely agree with her method of revenge, Taehyung had it coming. You knew she was on one tonight, already hurting, and you figured it’d be easier just to be supportive. “Honestly, he kind of asked for it when he made out with that bitch in front of you.” You pointed out, she laughed at that. Your smile faded as you looked to your left to see a more-than-pissed-off Taehyung walking towards you two. Looks like news traveled here, fast. “Jennie.” You gestured towards him to let her know he was coming, by the look on his face it was obvious he knew. “Here come the fireworks.” Jennie announced under her breath. He walked up to you both, sparing you a moments glance before grabbing Jennie by her arm. “What’s up babe?” She asked casually. He wasn’t having it. “We need to talk.” His voice was so low it was kind of scary, he pulled her to the side and she went along, only with some resistance.

Once again, you were on your own. You decided to find a bathroom to freshen yourself up a bit in the mean time. Unfortunately, all the ones downstairs were occupied or had muffled moans from behind the door. You decided to head upstairs, hoping to find an unoccupied one there. Most of the doors were locked, storage, or closets. You were close to giving up before you found a room at the end of the hall was empty and unlocked. A bedroom. You didn’t think anyone would mind if you used the mirror, so you walked in real quick and did. You rearranged your hair and reapplied your lip gloss.

As you were finishing up your last coat of gloss, you heard the door creak open behind you and shut. You immediately turned to look, surprised to see the same guy from earlier. “Hi.” He said with a smile, leaning against the door. “You stalking me now?” You teased, putting the gloss back into your handbag and setting it on the side table near you. “Can you blame me? We didn’t get to finish our... talk.” He said, locking the door behind him. With the sound of that click, it became clear your meeting had a different context. You could feel the atmosphere in the room change to become... heavier almost. He approached you, deleting the space between you with each movement. It also didn’t help that you already had your back against a wall, there really was nowhere to go this time. You swallowed a lump in your throat you didn’t realize was there to begin with. “You know...” He began, getting closer to you now than before, “I can’t stop thinking about you in this fucking dress.” He spoke lowly. You saw his lust-filled eyes staring back at you as his hands reached down to your waistline, tracing the edges of your body. You felt chills follow as his hand found its way from your hips down to your outer thighs, lightly grazing your ass. “Yeah?” You asked, at a loss of words due to your proximity to him. You were rendered practically helpless to his touch, there wasn’t much your body allowed you to do in his presence except submit to his will. “Yeah.” He replied. Once he reached the lower hem of your dress he let himself teeter at the edge. You bit your lip, maintaining eye contact, knowing what you craved at your core, praying he knew too.

He let hands linger on you a moment before he slipped two fingers under the lower band of your dress, you immediately felt the coldness of his hands against the soft skin of your outer thighs as he lifted the fabric slowly, just high up enough to have access to you. And all you did, was let him. He placed a hand at your center, feeling the wetness that had soaked through your panties. You blushed, embarrassed at the wet mess you’d become throughout the night. “Fuck, you’re so wet...” He said, speaking in a tone much lower than before. “...all for me?” He asked. It definitely was. The built up tension mixed between you two was enough to get you there. You were flustered by his practically immediate hold on you, all you wanted to do was anything he wanted you to. All you wanted to say was everything and anything he wanted to hear. “Mmhm.” You nodded, your faces closer than ever. He seemed satisfied with your response because in turn, he gave you the friction you were craving. Your breathing became unsteady as he let his hand grind against you outside the fabric of your panties, pressing his middle finger into your slit with the perfect amount of pressure. He created just enough need burning inside of you for you to know it wasn’t nearly enough. He enjoyed teasing you, it was all over his face. You needed more. You craved more.

And as if he could read your mind, he finally slipped his hand underneath the waistband of your panties and stimulated your clit with his bare hand. You let out a a whine as he felt all of you, high off the sensation of skin to skin contact. Every warm and wet bit of you was in his hands. “Fuck.” You said breathily. He moved softly, in small circles at first, setting every single one of your nerve endings on fire. He could see the satisfaction in your face, you couldn’t hide it even if you tried at this point. He increased his pace, hearing the sounds of your scattered whines and whimpers gradually increase in volume. He was relentless, reaching the most sensitive parts of you and exacting completely and utter pleasure. His forehead rested against yours as your eyes shut in pleasure. It felt as if there was some overwhelming magnetic pull drawing you into each other, you couldn’t really tell who leaned in first as your soft pink lips collided desperately with his. You moaned into his mouth. He slipped his tongue inside your mouth, gliding perfectly against yours in a heavenly rhythm. You felt a kind of intimacy within the kiss that was rare to you. Of course he was a good kisser, like really good.

You lightly bit his lip as he slipped a finger inside of you. It was as if kissing you only set him off more. You adjusted to him with ease considering how wet he had you before even touching you. He began pumping in and out of you, creating a new sensation only adding to the hopeless mess you’d become due to him. He moved inside you at the perfect angle. You reluctantly pulled your lips away from his for a moment so you could catch your breath. “Please.” You moaned softly, stunned with pleasure. “Please what?” He asked sternly, as if he wanted you to use your words, describing the sensations you were feeling, how he made you feel. “Please d- don’t stop.... please? It feels so fucking amazing.” You pleaded, feeling your impending climax within reach. He inserted another finger in you, curling them both inside you to hit your sweet spot with every pump. Fuck. That was it. How did he seem to have every inch of your body figured out already? In response, you, without consciously realizing it, began grinding your hips into him hopelessly. Your mouth opened in pleasure.

“Are you gonna cum for me?” He asked lowly, studying every part of you, he was so enamored with the moment, there was nothing in this world that could pull either of you away from this. You were almost too high off him to respond, but you nodded frantically as another moan escaped your lips. “Yes.” You admitted. You could feel your orgasm nearing as you slowly lost your others senses. “You’re gonna cum all over my hand?” He asked, moving himself faster somehow, you didn’t think it was possible. “Fuck, yes.” All you could feel now was him, pushing you to the edge, moving his fingers to penetrate inside of you at a pace you’d never felt before. “Cum for me.” He ordered, ready to witness you fall apart in front of him, all because of him. You obeyed, feeling a wave of euphoria crash into you and travel to the depths your body, cumming hard. Your cunt pulsated around his fingers as your body trembled in complete physical pleasure. This had to be heaven. The only thought in your head while you were in the clouds? You wanted more. How could you still crave more?

When you opened your eyes, returning back to planet earth, your breathing returned to normal again. All you could see was him in front of you. Those dark eyes were filled with want. You let your eyes trail down to the bulge between his legs. His cock was begging to be released from the restraining fabric of his clothes. Poor guy, he was so focused on you the whole time, he needed immediate relief. You slowly reached your hand down to the waist band of his pants. He didn’t make a single movement, as if he didn’t want to miss a moment of you. You slipped your hands underneath his pants, tracing the length of him from outside his briefs. He was so fucking hard. You wondered how he managed to fight the urge to turn you over and fuck you right there against the wall.

You dropped down to your knees and lowered his clothing, allowing him to reveal all of himself to you. You looked him in the eyes as you let your tongue wet the underside of his cock until it reached the head. He watched intently as you let your tongue slide across his slit before taking the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around his hypersensitive head. Teasing him, just like he did you. You heard a suppressed moan from deep inside him. That was enough to motivation for you take all of him into your into your mouth. The warm wet softness surrounded him as your mouth fit tight around his cock. You heard his breath hitch. The sight of your face on him mixed with the sensation, it was just enough to drive him crazy. He was leaking with so much precum, you could taste it. He slowly began rocking his hips into your throat. You felt him sink into further and further into pleasure with each thrust. He threw his head back as you finally took him deep into your throat. Holding your breath, you rocked yourself back and forth on his cock. The soft tightness of your throat bobbing up and down on the head of his cock was overwhelming enough for his eyes to roll back into his head. “Fuckkk.” He moaned breathily, it was obvious he was already close to his limit.

“S-stop.” He said hesitantly. You ignored it and continued, determined to make him cum as hard as you just did. “Don’t make me cum. I-...” He paused what he was saying, distracted by the wave of pleasure he felt as you took him deep into your warm throat again, disregarding his words. “I’ve been dying to get inside you all night.” He admitted breathily, in attempt to get you to stop sucking his cock so he could stuff it inside you instead. Your insides throbbed at the thought of it. Although you wouldn’t mind having him inside you, like at all, you knew he was close to riding out his orgasm and you wanted to see the look his face when he came, from this angle. You looked up at him innocently and kept going. He tried to back up slightly, but you didn’t let him. “Fuck.” He said under his breath, tired of trying so hard hold back his release. Everything he was saying went out the window as he gave into his most primal desires, rocking his hips into you, chasing his orgasm, and contradicting himself once more. “God you feel so fucking good.” He mumbled as his thrusts gradually became sloppier and more desperate. He reached a hand down to entangle in your hair, pushing himself deeper into you as his body tensed up and stilled. He let out a moan as he came down your throat. You could feel the warmth of the large pool of cum in you, you swallowed it all cleanly.

He pulled out of you once his orsgasm faded. Seeming satisfied that you swallowed. You stood up and cleaned off your mouth, and readjusted your dress. Assessing how bad the damage was to your appearance from what you two had just done. He put himself back in his pants and did the same in the mirror. There was an kind of afterglow that surrounded the both of you. You looked at him through the reflection in the mirror. “Sorry I didn’t stop.” You said with a smile, realizing afterward that you probably should have. He returned a smile and shrugged. “It’s fine. You can make it up to me next time.”

He left you with those words and exited the room. You found yourself wondering what he meant by “next time” and if there would be one. How could there be? You didn’t even know the guys name, or number, or anything substantial about him really. You shrugged it off, deciding not to think too much into it, sometimes a one night stand was just that. A one night stand.

End of Part One

[someone1348]

Apparently tumblr doesn't let you save answers to drafts soo we are doing this here!

Thank you @blobblobblobblob for the prompt! This was #2 withhh

Ler!ranboo, Lee!Tommy

Tw: mild cursing

With all that being said enjoyyyy :]

___________~☆°♡°☆°♡°☆~______________

Boo! Quite literally

Things have been alot different for tommy since tubbo gained this new friendship with ranboo, i mean they have a kid for crying out loud.

The said blonde had been exploring around keeping his sword at bay in case he had to engage. Tubbo had been off taking care of Michael while Ranboo was probably hanging with phil

Now he didn't mind the guy its just he stole his best friend away and more, that's what bothered him the most.

"First my best friend, now my own dad! Tsk what's next" he slightly joked angerly kicking a rock along the way.

Going past a tree the said enderman hybrid poped out behind it,

"Boo!" He giggled a bit proud of Tommy's squirm

"What the fuck man!?"

"Whahat?"

The blonde rolled his eyes flipping him off and walked away.

"Heyyy im sorryyy did i scare you that bad? I wont do it again!"

"No no! Im unscarable" he said with a smug grin on his face, proud of himself as always any chance he gets.

"Uh huh, sure Tommy sure" the enderman hybrid strolled up to his friend as tommy grumbled

"At least i can swim! Ha ha! Take that"

"At least i dont eat mud"

"Oi! I said we dont talk about that Ranboo"

Ranboo laughed a little giving the shorter man a slight push to the side

"Fucking hell man" Tommy said with a slight giggle poking Ranboo's ribs

"Ee! Heyyy!" Ranboo poked Tommy's side and with that zero reaction

"Sorry Ranboo! Im not ticklish" Tommy said smirking at the taller as his smile turned into a confused frown.

"I dont believe that, Tubbo has told me all the storys of you being ticklish before"

Getting a little embarrassed a light dust of pink spread on his cheeks

"W-w-well he's wrong! Im not ticklish, never have been! Never ever!" He crossed his arms as ranboo chuckled pulling him against his chest

"Oh yeah? Wanna test that theory?~"

"L-let me go!"

"Nope!" Ranboo smiled digging into his ribs as Tommy squeaked and struggled against him fighting back giggles.

"Oh come on Tommyyy i know you wanna laughhh" he smirked teasing the blonde dragging his claws down to his stomach

"im gonna getcha!'" He said giggling as he used the same tone he does with Michael to the blonde as his knees gave out sliding down to the grass Ranboo following right along with him.

"You know you seem plenty ticklish to me Tommy" He giggled as Tommy tried defending his case that he still wasn't ticklish,

"I'm sorry, im just a little confused, you said you're weren't ticklish but im tickling you and you're laughing" Ranboo teased as Tommy's laugh grew in volume.

"IHIHIM NOT! THIHIHICKL- IM NOT THAHAT!" Tommy stuttered out through his laughs refusing to let ranboo win

"Aww can't say it? Hehe i cannn!~ Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle tktktktktktk" he exclaimed in a slight baby tone

"STAHAHAP IHIHIT! I CAHAHAN TOO! SAHAHAY IT!"

"Oh yeahhh?~" Ranboo teased a bit more "say it or I'll go for your giggle buttonnn~"

"YOU WOULDN'T DARE!"

"3,,,,,"

"RANBOO I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU-"

"2,,,"

"RANBOO WAIT! PLEAS-EEP!"

"Haha" Ranboo laughed a little along with him.

"NAHAHAHAHAHA OKAHAHAY OKAHAHAY IHIHI- HEHE!"

"You got this!" Ranboo encouraged blowing a raspberry on the lower part of his stomach.

"EE! NOHOHOHOHO IHIHIHIHIT TIHIHICKLES OKAHAHAY IM TIHIHICKLISH DAMM!"

Ranboo giggled stopping helping his friend up with a bright smile.

"Feel better now?"

",,,yeah, thanks ranboo"

"Anytime buddy!" He ruffled his hair before leaving to find his platonic husband

"Okay so hes not THAT bad" Tommy said to himself "but i still don't like him!" He joked

"You love me!" Ranboo shouted from a far

"Oh shut up big man!"

"HAHAHAHA"

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

I hope you guys enjoyed! These are gonna be drabbles and such so thats why they are short also i dont really know how to write ranboo so i hope this is good! Haha anyways i hope you all enjoyedd :]

-K

[kuiinncedes]

relight that spark

jatp au - chapter 1 - part 2/15? - 9,385 words

the prologue/part 1 (tumblr link) if you missed it!! (ao3 link) :D

so obviously this is pretty slowly updating already and it probably willll get worse 🤪 i might post the next part in like a week tho, it's not a full "episode" chapter and i already have it fully written and i'm pretty happy with it 😗✌️

this chapter is pretty long and i apologize for that bc i know i get annoyed when i have to stop in the middle of a long chapter and then my phone like loses my spot or whatever lakdshgjfs but idk how else to do it so .. just have my apology lol sorryyy <3 the next "episode" chapter is looking to be longer tho sdlkhglsj

LASTLY BUT NOT LEASTLY A HUGE MASSIVE FUCKING THANK YOU TO MEG @neversatisfiedwithlife FOR BETA READING THIS FOR MEEEE AND BEING SO SUPPORTIVE AND WONDERFUL LOVE YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU SM 💞💖💓💗💕

chapter title and lyrics in this part from "wake up" from the julie and the phantoms soundtrack (whichhh if you haven't heard it... you should listen to it after reading maybe 👀)

plot and a lot of the dialogue from julie and the phantoms so like credit to all those creators and writers 🤪

warnings for this chapter: grief, mentioned character death (regarding kurt's mom)

read below the cut or here on ao3!! <3

--

2020

There’s a deep-seated weight of dread in Kurt’s stomach that he’s unable to ignore for the entire morning.

His last chance at the music program -- he needs to play again today, for the first time in over a year, or he’s done.

It’s all he can think about all day. He makes it through his first few classes, somehow, walking through the halls almost mindlessly, thoughts far away and only worrying about what he’s going to do, barely paying attention to who he’s almost running into, because he doesn’t know what he’s going to do.

It almost feels like last year again, when school started and everyone knew and everyone was staring at him in the hallways, even though he knows that they’re not right now and he knows most of these people couldn’t care less about him not being able to play at this point, but in his head it feels like they all know, like they’re all waiting, waiting and watching for him to play again and sing again.

He has been, too, for over a year.

He stops at his locker to wait for Mercedes before going to class.

“We’re gonna get tattoos together,” comes her familiar voice out of nowhere.

Involuntarily, Kurt smiles a little, turning to Mercedes. “Umm…?”

She shrugs and smiles back at him. “You know, when we’re adults and out in New York together or something. Just -- you know, at some point.”

Kurt raises an eyebrow, silently saying, where the hell did this come from. Mercedes raises both of hers as if to say, answer the question. “Just curious,” she adds out loud. “Could start planning them now.”

He chuckles. “Of course. I’ll get all the matching tattoos with you.”

Grins and silent agreement pass between them and they both turn toward the lockers, a welcome break in the slowest part of the day, the voices and noises of other students filling the air.

“I know you don’t want me to ask, but…” Mercedes starts slowly after a moment, and Kurt nods his head in acknowledgement; he knows what she’s going to say. “Do you know what you’re going to do today?”

He puts some books in his backpack, mainly for something to do. “I’ll know in the moment,” he says, somewhat truthfully. He could just say what he thinks will happen, which is nothing. But Mercedes can see right through him anyway, so might as well stay somewhat positive until it happens. Or rather, doesn’t happen.

Mercedes sighs a little. “Mrs. Harrison said today is your last chance,” she tries, leaning on her side against the lockers.

“I know, I was there,” Kurt says lightly, letting his eyes scan the contents of his locker a tenth time. Mercedes reaches over and squeezes his hand lightly. Her eyes tell him that she’ll stop talking about it for now, and he squeezes back gratefully.

The conversation with Mercedes has really helped, though; it always does. If he’s going to spectacularly embarrass himself in front of his music class, and probably for the last time, at least he’ll have Mercedes there.

She sees it in his smile, and she sends it back. You always will, is her silent whisper.

A sharp, cheery voice pierces the air and makes them both turn their heads, and the uplifted mood from the conversation with Mercedes disappears when Kurt sees none other than Quinn Fabray, in her Cheerios! uniform, complete with a tight ponytail and perfect smile as she hands out what appears to be flyers to passing students, who are immediately won over by her status, closeness, sweetness. Finn Hudson lingers behind her with his guitar case and his own stack of flyers that he’s not handing out nearly as enthusiastically.

“Spirit rally Friday!” Quinn’s saying as she all but shoves another flyer into the face of a nervous freshman who takes it and scurries away, doing a double-take once they pass her. “Come see the Cheerios! do their new routine, and my group, the Unholy Trinity, perform our brand new original song!”

“What’s she handing out?” Kurt whispers to Mercedes. A corner of his lip quirks up despite the general unpleasantness of seeing Quinn.

“Desperation?” she answers with a small smirk. When Kurt turns back, Quinn is in front of him. He holds back a grimace at her fake smile and cheeriness.

“Hey, guys!” she chirps, as if they’re just any two other students at this school. “Here you go, my group’s performing at the spirit assembly on Friday!”

Kurt flinches back a little as a flyer appears much too close to his face and he takes it instinctively, holding it lightly in his fingertips. It truly looks like something Quinn designed -- perfectly professional, impressive, eye-catching -- and he can’t say it looks bad, as much as he might want to. He eyes Quinn over the top of the flyer.

“I’m sure you guys have nothing better to do,” Quinn continues, that smile still on her face, and there are the claws, Kurt thinks as he resists the urge to rip up the flyer right in front of her.

“Oh, my gosh, Quinn, thank you!” Mercedes says in an exaggeratedly sweet voice, clearly -- or at least clearly to Kurt, and likely Quinn as well -- imitating the specific tone of voice that Quinn takes, and Kurt stifles a laugh.

“Oh my gosh, Cedes, don’t bother coming!” Quinn says with a wide smile, turning away with a whip of her ponytail to continue pushing her flyers.

Kurt looks back at Mercedes, mumbling, “She did not just call you Cedes,” while Mercedes crumples up the flyer in her hands.

“Well, she did,” Mercedes says. Kurt can see the anger behind her eyes and he raises a concerned eyebrow. “I’m fine. She just… you know.” She dismisses his silent question.

“Yeah.” He loops his arm through Mercedes’ and they head down the hallway, almost running into Finn not three steps from Kurt’s locker.

“Oh, hey, sorry guys!” he says with a sheepish but genuine smile that contains all the warmth missing from Quinn’s. “Did you -- I guess Quinn already got -- ”

“Yep, she got to us,” Cedes says quickly, steering Kurt around Finn. “Thanks, Finn, bye!”

“Please tell me you are over him,” Mercedes says when they’re in a quieter area at the end of the row of lockers. Kurt realizes he’s staring and quickly looks away.

“Yeah, I am.” Mercedes looks at him skeptically and he insists, “I am, promise! You just… don’t find a nice jock like him around here that much.”

She nods, satisfied, and raises her eyebrows meaningfully. “You know they’re going to get married and have a bunch of demon babies.”

Kurt’s jaw drops open slightly and he laughs. “You can’t say Finn isn’t a sweetheart.”

“Only one of them has to be a demon to make a demon baby,” Mercedes says matter-of-factly.

“What… it’s a dominant gene?”

“Of course.” Mercedes turns back toward Quinn and raises her voice. “Demon!”

The two of them push against the wall, hiding behind the end of the lockers, when Quinn snaps her gaze back. Kurt can’t hold his laughs in this time, and he feels a little bad about it, but… considering what Quinn’s done to them, he can let himself and Cedes get away with it.

“There’s that smile,” Mercedes says gently as they gather themselves. “Now let’s go prove everybody wrong.” She pulls him toward the music room and slowly but surely, the sickening feeling in his stomach returns. He sits down next to Mercedes and just breathes. She squeezes his hand again.

Mrs. Harrison starts class soon after they arrive, getting into the last of the progress performances which are both a chance for the students to show off to their classmates, and also a checkpoint for participation in the music program, which is the part Kurt’s concerned about.

He barely hears as Finn finishes his drum solo and everyone claps and then Mrs. Harrison is calling his name and he’s standing and walking to the piano and oh god.

“Take your time,” Mrs. Harrison says gently.

That’s all he’s been doing for almost a year, just taking his time, but nothing has come of it. He sits down slowly, opening his music in front of him but it’s like his eyes don’t see the notes and just gloss over the page. He looks down at the keys, sets his fingers in place reluctantly.

It’s been so long that the keys almost feel foreign under his fingers when they once were the most familiar thing in the world. It’s been so long that he barely remembers how the song should go and why did he think he could just do this, it doesn’t matter how good at sightreading he’s always been. It’s been so long of him locking the memories in a chained and padlocked safe in the back of his mind and he’s terrified of playing again being what opens it because playing and singing and music has always always meant Mom, and she’s gone which he still sometimes forgets and it always hurts like hell to remember again, so letting himself remember so much more will only make reality that much worse. It’s been so long and what if he’s forgotten, what if he opens himself to the memories just to find that they don’t exist anymore?

It’s been so long; it’s been over a year, but doesn’t that mean he should be fine by now?

He knows avoiding the memories hasn’t been the best idea, but right now he can’t think of anything he could have done differently, can’t linger and regret his choices because he feels so vulnerable and exposed finally sitting at the piano in front of his whole class for the first time in a year, and the choice is right there and maybe he could do it but not in front of everyone his brain screams, and he can almost feel Quinn’s sharp, judging, so far from friendly gaze fixed on him and that is what breaks it, that is something he definitely can’t take and he pulls his hands back with a short inhale and the whirlwind in his mind stops and he can mostly breathe again.

It’s been so long.

Heart still pounding, he gets up and apologizes to Mrs. Harrison because she really has tried to help him and he appreciates it but he still can’t, and Quinn makes some comment and Mercedes fires something back but he doesn’t hear any of it, he just has to leave.

He knows Mercedes follows him out and she calls out his name when he’s halfway down the stairs. He’s started crying at some point and he doesn’t know when. All of it is just such a mess and so present in his mind; he was so close to music again, to Mom, but he’s not ready. He’s scared.

“Kurt,” Cedes calls again, quieter, her voice soft and choked, pleading. “Come on, please. Come back… and show them you can sing .”

He turns to look at her at the top of the stairs. “I can’t,” he says, voice rough with tears. “I’ve tried, for over a year I’ve tried…. I’ve tried for Dad, I’ve tried for Mrs. Harrison, fuck, I’ve even tried for Quinn.” He gives a short, bitter laugh as more tears spill down his cheeks.

“I’ve tried so hard for you.” He gestures up to her, voice breaking. “I’ve tried for Mom.” He closes his eyes for a moment, takes a breath. “And I’ve tried for myself.” Mercedes is also crying a little now.

“For over a year, I’ve tried,” Kurt continues weakly. “But I just -- I can’t. Not… not now.”

He runs down the rest of the stairs and out the door, and he knows he just got himself kicked out of music, knows he just ruined everything.

--

From mercedes 💖, 2:04 pm:

Are you leaving?

From mercedes 💖, 2:06

Tell me when you get home. I love you

To mercedes 💖, 2:08 pm:

i will, at the park for now

From mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

I’ll bring your stuff around later.

To mercedes 💖, 2:10 pm:

thank you

To mercedes 💖, 2:11 pm:

i love you. i’m sorry

From mercedes 💖, 2:12 pm:

Nothing to be sorry for, just take care of yourself okay?

From mercedes 💖, 2:13 pm:

Give yourself a hug from me until I get there to do it for you

--

“Hey, kiddo, how was your day?” Burt asks as he walks in, putting a hand on Kurt’s shoulder who’s doing homework at the kitchen table.

“It was okay,” Kurt responds with a small but hopefully convincing smile to hide the worry eating away at him inside, because if the school’s already contacted his dad about today, about Kurt ruining his last chance…

“I gotta go again in a bit,” Burt says, taking a drink of water. “Some guy really needs a car fix by tomorrow morning, but I’ll be done by dinner.” Kurt nods, some relief flooding his veins. He turns back to his homework.

“Oh, another thing,” Burt says and Kurt stiffens again. “I wanted to come and check in with you -- I talked to a real estate agent today, and they said if we’re serious about selling the house, we need to take some pictures and stuff, clean everything… and I was wondering if you’re up for cleaning Mom’s studio?”

Kurt’s immediate surprise and hesitance must show on his face even as he tries to keep his composure, because Burt quickly assures, “It’s okay if you’re not ready, I promise; we have time. You know I just -- I wouldn’t even know where to start in there.”

Kurt smiles a little. “No, it’s okay,” he says. “I can try tonight.”

“Awesome.” Burt ruffles Kurt’s hair, which from anyone else other than maybe Mercedes would not end particularly well, but Kurt just laughs and tries to brush the loose strands out of his eyes. “I’ll see you later, Kurt. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Dad.”

Kurt exhales slowly as his dad leaves again.

Cleaning out the studio means having to confront exactly what he’s tried to avoid for a year. The disaster that was music class today doesn’t make him feel better about it… but at least this time he’ll be alone -- none of the pressure of having to live up to the standards of well-meaning teachers or aggressive ex-best friends, none of the pressure of having to play at all, especially from the competitive nature at school. And… maybe he needs it.

Moving from here will only help you move on. Kurt’s aunt’s words echo in his mind. A part of him recoils at the idea of leaving his childhood home -- leaving the spaces his mom used to inhabit and her light and energy used to fill to the brim -- and starting over, someplace where there are none of those memories… he can’t tell if that’s a good thing. It feels like more of the running away that he’s been doing for a year, and he wonders if it really will solve anything.

But maybe he does need it. If staying in this house for the last year hasn’t helped, a change would be good, right?

Turning back to his work, he takes a deep breath and starts planning dinner in his head. He’ll tackle the studio after dinner’s ready.

--

To Dad, 7:39 pm:

dinner’s done, i’ll be in the studio

Kurt takes a slow breath as he opens the doors to the garage.

It’s not that it’s his first time in the studio after his mom died -- someone had to water the plants -- but he kept any interaction with the rest of the room minimal, so it still feels different to take in the full space instead of just rushing to the plants in the back with his head down. It always came with some guilt; it felt like the least he could do to keep some life in the studio when he could barely even bring himself to enter, let alone fill it with music as it needs to be.

He walks in slowly, some apprehension tickling the back of his neck, trying to stay calm. The familiarity is almost overwhelming this time as he looks around, actually taking in the room. The guitars on the wall, the couch and table, all of his mom’s decorations and knick-knacks. The chairs on the ceiling, story told with a fond smile from his dad about his mom wanting to decorate in a fun special way even while 7 months pregnant. The plants in the back, flourishing in front of the wall of windows positioned to let in the sunrise beautifully, not that Kurt has seen it happen recently.

And the grand piano -- in the center of the room, covered with a sheet, neglected for over a year. Kurt pulls it off now absentmindedly, letting the fabric pool over his feet. He takes a deep breath even though he probably just filled the air with dust, and goes over to the bench. He doesn’t open the lid, not yet. Some sheet music is on the seat and he places it on the piano without looking, sits down and gently touches the fallboard, inhaling shakily, not opening it to reveal the keys but just… remembering what it used to be, what it used to -- still means….

“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut, “that I haven’t been here.”

With his eyes closed against the dark emptiness of the room, he can almost forget. It’s too easy to think that when he opens his eyes, his mom will be there, and she’ll be writing a song with him, or she’ll be playing, or they’ll just be talking…

Before the idea can flood his mind and leave him reeling when he returns to reality, Kurt stands and looks around the room again. There really is a strangeness to the place now. What used to be so comfortable and an extension of home -- sometimes even more home than the main house -- was always warm and brimming with emotion and joy and music and life -- now cold and dark and hollow, quiet. The familiar bones have an unsettling foreign emptiness around them. It feels wrong.

It needs to be filled. But… Kurt can’t do that.

He misses his mom -- always, but it’s amplified in this space that was always hers. He misses the feeling that the studio used to bring, that spirit that is now dimmed and suppressed. Covered, but still there. He can feel it like a gentle heat behind his skin. Not bad, but overwhelming, and he just….

The loft, Kurt decides suddenly. He’ll start with the loft. There aren’t memories and emotions so confusing and thick there that he’s barely able to avoid it, to push his way through with no energy left to untangle and understand. The loft is just full of random old stuff that his mom wouldn’t throw out and his dad teased her about.

So the loft first. And then he can ease into the rest when he’s more ready. After all, his dad did say they have time.

It’s significantly dustier in the loft; old instruments and random bags full of clothes are scattered and piled across the floor, his own electric keyboard propped up against the wall. Kurt stands on the stepladder a few steps below the actual loft floor, looks around a little, his eyes landing on a CD case lying on the ground -- black with a simple stark white word design: Sunset Curve. He picks it up, eyeing it thoughtfully, brings it back down to the main floor and decides to put it into the old CD player.

He doesn’t really know why he has such an urge all of a sudden. He’s listened to some music, but not nearly as much as before, and has actually chosen to listen to music only a handful of times since his mom died.

But… the studio needs music. As an apology for a year of neglect, and as a goodbye, he can let this music redeem the studio’s spirit a little, fill what he’s left hollow.

And he doesn’t want to be alone in the silence with his memories while he’s going through everything, even just in the loft. As something completely unfamiliar and random, this can give him the distraction and none of the pain. At least, that’s the plan.

Stepping down from the loft stairs, he glances at the picture in the CD case as he opens it -- a band of four who all look like teenagers, staring seriously into the camera -- he doesn’t get a good look at them, just slides the disc into the CD player and takes a seat on the couch.

The opening song starts strong with a gritty guitar riff and a 1, 2, 3! counting the band in. Despite himself, Kurt starts nodding along to the beat. It really is a great song, unique and upbeat…

Then some kind of… panicked screaming makes itself heard, first quietly and he thinks it could be part of the song, but it crescendos and gets unbearably loud --

And then there are three strangers appearing out of thin air before his eyes, screaming as they fall to the ground heavily. Kurt would wince at the sound of the impact --

That part’s certainly unlike any CD he’s listened to before.

He’s frozen, heart hammering and eyes widening as he stares at the three strangers picking themselves up off the ground, taking in their surroundings a little…

“How’d we get back here?” the middle one -- a shorter guy with black hair -- says breathlessly.

Kurt screams.

--

It’s not his finest moment, but three complete strangers just appeared in his mom’s studio, seemingly just popping into the air, and he can’t say he’s never been superstitious in his entire life or that he isn’t drawing immediate conclusions -- supernatural conclusions, fucking ridiculous conclusions. He doesn’t love that he runs into his dad on his way back into the house which may have also involved a little yelling about seeing ghosts (ghosts who screamed back, for the record), but he makes it to the safety of his room and texts Mercedes frantically, who doesn’t respond.

“Come on, Cedes,” he hisses to himself, shooting off another text. “Answer me!”

A knock from his doorway startles him and he just barely manages to hold back a shout, turning to see his dad leaning into his room hesitantly.

“You okay?”

Kurt gives him what must be a hysterical-looking attempt at a reassuring smile, all wide eyes and clenched teeth. “Yeah, no, totally fine, sorry for -- scaring you,” he replies choppily, tone not even convincing to himself. “Just, um, practicing for a school play.”

Burt definitely doesn’t believe him, but nods slowly anyway. “Well, I’m gonna go clean up -- ” He gestures over his shoulder with a grease-covered hand. “Dinner in like, ten minutes?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Kurt says shortly, forcing another smile and a thumbs-up.

As soon as the door closes, Kurt turns back toward his window and tries to get a glance of the studio, but it’s blocked from this angle by the trees in their yard. Apprehensively, he heads back to the garage, thankfully not running into his dad this time, phone in hand and thumb hovering over Mercedes’ phone contact.

When he goes in, it’s empty; no sign of anything out of the ordinary happening.

He scans the space warily, feeling jumpy and nervous, but nothing happens and he mumbles, “I know I saw something, I’m not crazy.”

He hears a soft popping noise and then, “Well, we’re all a little crazy,” from behind him and he turns with a sharp gasp.

“Oh, my god, who are you?” Kurt yells, maybe a little too loud because the black-haired boy winces slightly and all three of them step back a little. “What the hell are you doing in my mom’s studio?”

“Your mom’s studio?” the black-haired guy scoffs. “This is our studio!”

The tall blonde guy bounces forward. “Yeah, like, the piano’s new, but -- ” He looks to the right and his face lights up. “My couch!” he calls, running over and jumping straight onto it.

The girl -- hair black and in braids -- rolls her eyes. “Not your couch, Sam.”

The blonde -- Sam? -- sits up indignantly, stabbing a finger in the cushions. “Hey, I spent more time on this couch than any of you. Pretty sure it’s mine at this point.”

Kurt just watches them with wide eyes, jaw hanging open, with absolutely no idea what to do.

“But these aren’t our instruments,” the black-haired guy says warily, looking around. At some point he and the girl have linked arms, Kurt notices. He watches as they all take in the studio, faces getting increasingly confused and worried. Kurt raises an eyebrow that apparently can go higher than it already is.

“Because… it’s my mom’s studio…” he manages to say again, mind still whirling at the hurricane of new and completely nonsensical information.

“Can you just -- give us a minute?” Sam says, jumping over the coffee table to join his friends. They turn away to talk in a huddle, and Kurt stands awkwardly as they talk in failed attempts at hushed tones.

--

Tina’s trying to ignore the pounding of her possibly-only-theoretical heart -- she’s dead, how can she even feel a heartbeat -- as she watches Blaine and Sam talk to the… living person in front of them. Sam makes his usual comment about “his couch” and Tina snarks back with her usual response and it gives her some comfort, some familiarity even in this studio which should feel like home, has for so long, and it still does to an extent, but everything here is suddenly different.

The comment does send the strange boy’s attention back to her, though, which she doesn’t really like. Blaine wraps an arm around hers and she squeezes his forearm in gratitude. He did that a lot when they were alive -- knew how and when to offer her his touch to reassure her a little.

At least there’s something that’s still the same.

At least her boys are still the same.

She tries to focus on Blaine’s arm in hers, on Sam’s dumb comments as he comes bounding back to them, hissing, “Guys, what is going on here?”

Tina shrugs. Blaine whispers, “Who is he?”

“He can hear you,” the person in question says pointedly from behind them, but Sam ignores him and says, “Maybe he’s a witch.” He looks up, pointing. “There are chairs on the ceiling.”

“There’s no such thing as witches,” Tina hisses.

“Are you sure?” Sam shoots back. “Because I used to think there was no such thing as ghosts!”

Tina swallows. “That’s fair.”

“So we’re going with witch?” Blaine asks.

“No!” Tina waves her hands at both of them. “No, come on. You guys are just -- he’s probably just overwhelmed, okay? Let someone with a softer touch handle this.”

Maybe “softer touch” wasn’t the right phrase to use in this instance, she thinks, but she really just wants answers and figures she might as well be straightforward. “Why are you in our studio?” she asks, maybe a little too aggressively, stepping up to the alive stranger.

He looks down with a shocked expression and Tina realizes she accidentally got close enough to touch him -- or… pass her hand through his, partially. They both watch as he brings his hand through hers again. It’s a weird feeling -- warm and kind of tingly, or like she’s putting her hand through water.

“Oh my god,” he says, eyes wide. “How did you do that?”

Tina raises their eyebrows a little. “Okay, clearly you don’t -- clearly, he doesn’t get it,” she says, addressing the guys behind her. She turns back to the stranger, gesturing to herself and the others as she explains, “We’re ghosts. We’re just three ghosts, and we’re really happy to be home, so… thank you for the flowers; they really brighten up the room.” She tries to smile at him.

“We’re actually in a band called Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up, stepping up to flank her on the left.

“Tell your friends!” chimes Sam on her right.

“Last night was a really big night for us,” Blaine says, a little sadly. “It was gonna change our lives.”

Tina whispers, “Uh, I’m pretty sure it did.” Blaine huffs and elbows her gently.

“This is freaking me out,” the stranger says, shaking his head as he takes something from his pocket.

“What is that; what are you doing?” Blaine asks.

Alive Stranger looks up, fingers still touching the face of the object. “It’s my phone -- nope, stop talking to them! There’s no such thing as cute ghosts,” he says, seemingly to himself.

Sam gasps. “Think we’re cute?” He raises an eyebrow, making one of his insufferable Sam faces; Tina almost laughs.

The boy looks up again with wide eyes, gaze flitting to each of them as if watching for a reaction, swallowing and going back to his phone.

“Who’re you calling?” Tina asks, trying to see the side facing him because that doesn’t look like any phone she’s ever seen.

“I’m googling Sunset Swerve.”

“Sunset Curve!” Blaine, Sam, and Tina correct him at the same time, Sam drawing a curve in the air with his finger.

The stranger laughs nervously, staring at them with wide eyes and then back at his phone. “Okay… so there is a Sunset Curve.” He swallows again. “You guys did die. But not last night.” Tina’s stomach drops a little; Blaine and Sam get closer.

“Twenty-five… years ago,” the boy finishes, a confused look in his eyes.

Tina barely has time to register this before Sam says, “That’s impossible. All we did after we floated out of the car was go to that weird dark room where Tina cried.”

Her mouth drops open. “I wasn’t -- I -- we -- ” she squeaks, voice jumping up an octave. “I think we were all pretty upset,” she says, but she supposes Sam is right.

He pats her back and doesn’t have a chance to respond again because Blaine steps in, “That was just for, like, an hour, though. We just showed up here.” Tina and Sam nod.

“Look,” the living one says, finally turning his “phone” toward them. They lean forward to see a screen with a photo of them -- and Artie, Tina thinks distantly; she feels his absence acutely and it spikes through her chest -- taken for their summer tour, and a bunch of small text around it that she can’t read, a bold headline at the top reading, Sunset Curve: A Hollywood Tragedy. “I’m just telling you what my phone says,” he explains. “You guys died in 1995. It’s now 2020.”

“So this is the future?” Sam asks incredulously as the boy pulls his phone back. Something else sticks out in Tina’s mind, though.

“So -- it has been twenty-five years,” she says, pausing to gather her thoughts. “I have been crying for twenty-five years -- how is that possible?!”

“You’re a very emotional person,” Sam reasons.

“I am not!” she insists, but the tears already pressing in the back of her throat want to prove otherwise. Distantly, she reminds herself that she’s with her friends who’ve seen it all and she doesn’t need to hold back, but the presence of this complete stranger also overrides the ease of her relationship with the guys. Sam rubs a comforting hand over her shoulder, and she swallows the tears down.

Alive Stranger shakes his head. “I gotta go… eat dinner,” he says slowly. He turns back around once he’s walked past the three of them and says, “Look, I’m really sorry for what happened to you guys, but this isn’t your studio anymore. You have to leave.”

“But we -- ” Blaine starts, starting to go forward but a sharp glare stops him and he clears his throat. “We didn’t even get your name.”

“It’s Kurt,” the stranger snaps.

“Cool, I’m -- Blaine,” Blaine says hesitantly. “And this is…”

“Sam, hey.”

“Tina, how’s it going…”

“Ba-da,” Blaine sings weakly, gesturing his hands in front of them like he’s presenting them to Kurt.

They all watch for Kurt’s reaction, but he just sighs and leaves the studio. He leaves the doors open, probably to remind them that they technically just got kicked out of their studio -- or, Kurt’s mom’s studio -- someone’s studio, but really it’s been their home for so long…

“Kurt seems nice,” Sam says cheerfully, trying to lighten the mood.

Tina turns to him. “Did you miss the part where he kicked us out, or…” she says drily. Sam shrugs, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Okay,” Tina mutters, turning to wander around the studio some more. If they’re going to be kicked out, she wants to spend as much more time as she can here.

--

Kurt’s mind is a storm. He doesn’t know where to start with this new information -- with an evening that took such a sharp turn from reminiscing and sad and somewhat painful into just… something so completely different and unexpected.

Dinner Kurt can do. He can put the craziness of ghosts aside because dinner is easy, dinner is simple; dinner is important.

His dad has already set everything out so Kurt takes his seat across from him, sending a not-completely-true nvm everything’s fine, sorry for worrying you text to Mercedes, who finally got back to him at some point when he was distracted…

Distracted talking to ghosts.

“How’s it going?” Burt asks as he sits down and it takes Kurt a second to remember he must be talking about cleaning the studio, and not actually about ghost musicians.

Ghosts don’t exist. There are no ghosts in the garage. Don’t think about ghosts.

“It’s good,” Kurt says, poking at his food a little. “I’m starting with the loft.”

Burt smiles. “Those old instruments need a home.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, returning the smile. “Mom would like that.”

The instruments probably belong to some ghosts, Kurt realizes, but… nothing he can really do about that. And that’s if the ghosts can even touch objects.

They eat in comfortable silence for a while and then Burt sets down his fork. Kurt looks up apprehensively.

“So I got an email from the school today,” he starts. Kurt fiddles with his fork and drops his gaze.

“Hey, it’s okay, Kurt, I’m not mad,” Burt promises.

You should be, Kurt thinks -- all that money spent for him to audition for and attend the music program, and for private lessons and sheet music and piano maintenance, just for him to throw it all away.

“I know those classes can be hard,” his dad says, and Kurt almost can’t take his gentle tone, feels guilty about it even though he appreciates it. “But… you still like music, don’t you?”

Kurt shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe?”

“I know the memories are hard, believe me, Kurt. But, every time I see you, I see Mom, you know? And I love that, I really do. Maybe, if you give yourself a chance, you can, too.” Kurt looks up hesitantly to see his dad’s gentle, loving expression and eyes slightly glassy with tears. Looking down again, he swallows, and nods.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I will. I’ll try.”

Because what he said to Mercedes earlier on the staircase is true, but… he’ll always try harder for his dad.

“It’s okay, Kurt,” Burt assures him. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Kurt smiles and almost starts eating again, but music suddenly blares from outside, startling both of them, Kurt barely holding back a loud swear.

“What is that?” Burt says, getting up but Kurt rushes to reassure him, saying quickly, “I must have just left the CD player on in the garage! It’s fine, I’ll go get it!”

He runs back to the studio where the ghosts are still there apparently, and have somehow gotten instruments from the loft and set everything up to start playing, and play really loudly -- and it honestly sounds good but Kurt can’t focus on that because they’re going to disturb the entire neighborhood and get the cops called on them for a noise complaint and what is he supposed to say -- no officer, it was just the three ghosts in the garage being idiots, sorry?

Kurt yells for them to stop but it’s useless; he can barely even hear himself over how incredibly loudly they’re playing. Blaine, on an electric guitar that Kurt remembers seeing in the loft, turns and sees Kurt, walking towards him and finally playing one last chord when Kurt makes a horizontal cutting motion with his hand, and Sam, on the bass, follows, Tina playing one last short drum roll, looking up with a wide grin.

They all look… alive, Kurt thinks, despite literally being dead, so different from the confusion he left them with -- relaxed and loose and faces lit up, the energy flowing through them almost visible. If he didn’t know they were ghosts and made of air, he’d expect to be able to reach out and feel them, breaths hot and fast from the exertion and adrenaline, skin warm and slightly sweaty, hearts beating strong like the steady percussion of their band.

It reminds him of how music used to make him feel.

“Cut it out!” Kurt snaps, trying not to raise his voice too much. “The whole neighborhood could hear you! I thought I told you to leave!”

Blaine looks back at his bandmates, bewildered. “People -- people can hear us play?”

“Yes!” Kurt says exasperatedly. “My dad heard you from inside!”

“… What did he think?” Blaine asks after a moment. Kurt opens his mouth for an irritated response --

“Everything okay in here?”

Kurt whips around to see his dad in the doorway and smiles with wide eyes. “Yeah! I just -- had to turn off the CD player,” he lies.

People have told Kurt before that he’s a good liar; he really hopes that’s true after the evening he’s had -- he's having.

Burt’s attention is elsewhere, though, seemingly forgetting about the chaos from just a moment earlier. “Wait, is this the junk that was in the loft?” he says, excitedly eyeing the instruments and… the ghosts that he can’t see.

“Junk?” Blaine exclaims. Tina stands up, her eyes on Burt, drumsticks gripped tightly in one hand.

They all watch apprehensively as Burt weaves through the instruments, even going so far as to rattle Tina’s cymbals and tap the drums, much to her horror. She fixes Kurt with wide, urgent eyes, to which Kurt just shrugs and gives her a helpless look. Hey Dad, actually, the ghost drummer wants you to stop, so…

“Hey, this stuff’s in pretty good shape,” Burt says excitedly. “Maybe we can make a couple bucks, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees weakly, mostly just watching as Tina fails to push Burt away from the drums.

“I like the song you had on,” Burt says, finally stepping away from the instruments. Tina rubs down a cymbal with her sleeve.

“Sweet! We’re Sunset Curve,” Blaine pipes up.

“Tell your friends!” Sam says, to a fond eye-roll from Tina.

“It’s just an old CD I found,” Kurt says, ripping his attention from the ghosts.

“Well, it’s nice that you’re listening to music again,” Burt says sincerely. “Out here, you can play whatever you want, whenever you want.” He waves his hands out on either side for emphasis, going through Sam and Blaine’s bodies. Kurt chuckles weakly.

“Oh,” Sam says, looking down at where Burt’s hand was in his stomach just a moment before. “That’s nice.”

“Stay out of this,” Kurt hisses.

“Sorry, Kurt, I’m just trying to help -- ”

“Oh! No, not you, Dad,” Kurt says quickly. For fuck’s sake -- “Just -- just give me a minute -- ” He starts pulling his dad toward the door. Burt stops him and says, “Hey, we’re gonna figure out this music program thing, okay?”

“Thanks, Dad,” Kurt says with a smile, and gestures for him to leave.

Once Burt is out of sight, he turns back to the ghosts.

“Wait -- ” Tina waves her drumsticks around a little. “So -- only you can see us, but everyone can hear us?” Kurt nods in confirmation. “What kind of ghosts are we?” Tina says.

“Who cares, dude!” Sam says, stepping up to Tina’s drum kit with a grin. “People can hear us play!” The three exchange fist-bumps as Blaine says happily, “We might be dead, but our music isn’t.”

“And Kurt’s dad likes our music!” Sam cheers.

“He’s a dad, it doesn’t count,” Tina mumbles, smiling and pushing Sam playfully when he turns to her with an offended look.

Confusion and annoyance bubble up inside Kurt along with something like anger at, just, all of it and he groans and says loudly, “Why can’t you guys just be normal ghosts? You know, go hang out at an old mansion or something! I hear Pasadena’s nice!” and turns to leave, slamming the door on his way out.

He just… has had too much going on today. He needs to -- ignore his homework and the problem with school and maybe just sleep in for the next two days. That would be really nice.

He’s so caught up in his head and he jumps and yells when a ghost appears in front of him with no warning.

“Don’t do that!” Kurt exclaims.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Blaine says quickly. “ -- You do know how rad this is though, right? People -- people can hear us play!”

“Yeah, good for you,” Kurt replies, a little too harshly. “It’s just that I’ve had a really, really, awful day. I’ve gotta go.”

He walks past Blaine just to turn around again when he says, “I’m really sorry you had a bad day.” Kurt nods; he can tell Blaine wants to say more, so he waits.

Blaine continues slowly, “I just… three ghosts just found out they had a bad twenty-five years, and then they find out that the one thing they lived for in the first place, they can still do. So you can kick us out, but -- we’re not giving up music. We can play again; that’s a gift no musician would ever turn down,” he says earnestly, eyes wide and almost pleading.

That hurts in Kurt’s chest a little more than it should and he looks down again to avoid the passion and excitement shining clearly in Blaine’s eyes, in his voice, in his words. He swallows down the feeling that statement unearths inside of him, but suddenly his bad day is at the forefront of his mind again -- his bad year.

That’s a gift no musician would ever turn down … some musician he is, then. But he already knew that.

Blaine says softly, “You’ve gotta know that. Clearly your mom is into music.”

Kurt swallows. “Was,” he says, monotone and quiet. “She passed away.”

He hates that it’s become easier to say; he wants to either spit the words out or break down sobbing but he manages to keep his voice steady. (In the back of his mind, he wonders why he just told that to a random ghost he just met. Maybe he’s just going crazy. He’s literally talking to ghosts, after all.)

Blaine’s face falls. “I -- I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

“Yeah, we -- we didn’t know,” Sam says quietly. He and Tina have also left the studio, standing on the other side of the low wall separating the garage area from the pathway back to the house. They look up with sympathetic eyes and Kurt looks away from them too -- can’t meet any of their wide, well-meaning gazes right now.

“It’s fine,” he dismisses. “Sorry I got mad.” The ghosts are thankfully looking at each other now, seemingly silent conversation passing between their glances. “You guys are pretty good,” Kurt says, trying to change the subject and lighten the atmosphere.

Blaine raises an eyebrow, turning his gaze back to Kurt. “‘Pretty good’? You know that’s just, like, 25 years of rust being dusted off, right?”

“Do you play, too?” Tina asks.

“No, no, I don’t play.” It’s not exactly a lie anymore but it scrapes in Kurt’s throat with his haste to answer. “That’s all my mom’s stuff in there.”

“She’s an amazing songwriter,” Blaine says.

“Yeah, she was,” Kurt answers. “Wait… how do you know?”

Blaine opens his mouth, glancing at the others for a second. “We found a song on the piano,” he says. “If it’s hers… your mom was really talented.”

Kurt nods. She really, really was.

He feels like he doesn’t have the energy to say it again, so he just stays quiet. Somewhat awkwardly, he turns to leave, sensing the end of the conversation and part of him desperately wanting to just leave and not have to see these ghosts again….

So Kurt surprises even himself when he pauses and turns back to face them. “I guess,” he starts, and their gazes snap back up to him. “If you need a place to stay… you can stay in there.” He nods toward the studio and the ghosts’ faces light up. Kurt can’t help but smile back. “There’s a couch that turns into a bed, and in the back there’s a bathroom with a shower, if you still need any of that stuff.”

“Awesome!” Sam exclaims quietly, earning an elbow in the side and a questioning look from Tina. “What? Dude, I just really like showers,” he defends.

Tina rolls her eyes. Kurt takes a breath, raising his hands to gesture vaguely at the three of them. “This is just… too weird.” He nods to himself, finally leaving this time, leaving the ghosts to… do what they will.

The fact that there are ghosts in his mom’s studio…. Maybe there’s a chance that Mom knows them -- sent them, he thinks… but decides to not get his hopes up. She’s gone and he needs to just keep it at that.

What he really wants is to tell Mercedes, but he doesn’t know how.

What would you say if I told you there were three ghosts living in my mom’s studio? Kurt thinks on his way back to his room.

You’d say I’m crazy.

--

It’s some point in the night; they figured out that they don’t need to sleep -- can’t sleep, it seems like, which is honestly really annoying in Tina’s opinion because they’re ghosts with literally nothing to do for too many hours at a time -- so they’re just hanging out in the studio, with the lights outside giving them a little visibility through the garage windows, but it’s kind of nice to just sit in the dark.

Tina has been on the couch with Sam, lying on their backs, heads in opposite directions, legs pressed up against each other. Sam’s bass is unplugged, laid on his stomach and extending over Tina’s legs. He plucks out notes and Tina accompanies with a soft beat using just her hands and body parts as instruments. Sometimes it’s a familiar bassline -- a Sunset Curve song rehearsed or performed or recorded before -- and they also hum the harmonies that they know, and sometimes they improvise -- Tina storing the good bits in her mind for a future writing session.

Blaine is in the loft where they hoped a light could be on and maybe go unnoticed. Tina assumes that he’s writing; he always was when they were alive. And of course, now he has 25 years of dark room and relative nothingness to catch up on writing about.

It feels like another quiet night from when they were alive, each of them with an excuse to escape their homes for the night, and they’d all crash here, filling the studio with soft music and noise. Blaine would stay up writing and sometimes singing while Sam and Tina (and Artie) would try to sleep, telling him to stop humming, or, since the main house inhabitants who would care about the noise were rarely there, they would sometimes join along with him and make it a Sunset Curve midnight rehearsal.

They’ve never had the best sleep schedules anyway.

Tina giggles quietly as she and Sam play into nothingness, both parts running uncontrolled and unable to get back on track. They both stop and Sam starts playing a familiar line -- parts they’d worked out before with bass, drums, and both guitars, but never actually put into a song. Tina waits for a moment to come in with her part.

She’s nearly startled off the couch when Blaine poofs down beside the couch with his guitar and starts his part. Tina starts laughing -- probably too loud but they’re pretty sure only their music can be heard anyway -- and slides off the couch to sit on the ground, picking the drumming back up on her legs.

“You guys wanna check out this teleportation thing?” Blaine asks, playing the challenging guitar riff meant for electric guitar messily on his acoustic without a pick.

Sam sits up and puts his bass to the side. “Absolutely,” he says. “Where’re we going?”

“I have an idea,” Blaine says, setting his guitar down. He pulls Tina up and extends a hand out for Sam. “I think I can take you guys with me.”

“What?” Tina squeaks, but a second later, she’s sitting far above the ground, outside, on top of the marquee of the Orpheum. “Oh my god,” she mutters, looking down dizzily at the people passing by on the sidewalk. Her body tingles with a weird uncomfortable energy for just a few seconds before it fades.

“Yes!” Blaine laughs, kicking his legs up excitedly. “I mean, I know being a ghost isn’t our first choice, but it sure is easy getting around!”

“Easy for you, maybe!” Sam cries on Blaine’s other side. “I lost my shirt on that one!”

Tina looks over and sure enough, Sam is shirtless. She stifles a laugh behind her hand. “Like that’s a concern,” she pipes up, but Sam’s shirt appears right as she says it. They all laugh and sit in silence for a moment.

“So why’d you bring us here?” Tina asks, looking out across Hollywood Boulevard, the new and old buildings and shops, the people and cars of the future. The light of the Orpheum’s neon sign shines in her periphery, same as it did on a night twenty-five years ago. “Just another reminder of where we never got to play,” she says wryly, turning to face Blaine on her left, patting his shoulder. “Thanks, Blaine.”

Blaine rolls his eyes. “I’m telling you guys, it’s not over yet!” Tina reappears on the sidewalk right below them, almost losing her balance and falling through a person walking past. She shoots a glare at Blaine for teleporting them with no warning again, but he just grins back and starts down the sidewalk, Sam following. “Let’s see how many places we can play tonight, yeah? Check out the music scene of the future? And no trouble getting into those clubs anymore!”

Tina laughs, falling into step with them. She watches Sam walk straight through someone going in the opposite direction and doesn’t realize someone is in her way, which shouldn't be a problem, until she bumps into them.

She feels them.

“Hey!” she says involuntarily, turning to see who it was -- another ghost? A tall man with a cape and top hat nods at her with an acknowledging and almost menacing gleam in his eye, then turns again and walks away.

He could see her, he could touch her -- he has to be another ghost, right?

“Tina, you coming?” Sam calls. She swallows and takes one last look, the other ghost having disappeared among the other people on the sidewalk, before turning and running to catch back up with the guys.

“I just ran into someone,” she says, a little breathless -- she doesn’t know if that’s from running, which she doesn’t think she can actually get breathless from, or the fact that she ran into someone.

“Another ghost?” Blaine says.

“I mean, it has to be, right? Uh, Kurt -- Kurt can see us but he can’t touch us…”

“And his dad couldn’t either,” Sam adds.

“It must have been another ghost. He looked like a… performer, or something.” Tina wrinkles their nose a little as she remembers his whole get-up, completely out of place among what she’s seen so far of 21st century street fashion. (But then again, so is she, and her friends.)

“… I guess we’re not alone, then,” Blaine says, breaking a short bewildered silence.

“We’re never alone!” Sam exclaims, walking between them to throw his arms around Blaine and Tina’s shoulders. Tina laughs and grabs his forearm, mystery ghost forgotten for the time being.

Blaine responds with a grin, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

--

Kurt wakes up earlier than usual the next morning. He thinks he still has school -- he doesn’t know how being removed from the music program works, but no one told him not to come and besides, he does have non-music classes to keep up with, even if he doesn’t necessarily want to. He gets ready as usual, leaving breakfast out for his dad, and there’s still half an hour before Mercedes should be getting here.

Perfect. There’s something he needs to try by himself… for himself.

He heads out to the studio with his things, a fluttering feeling in his stomach, but it’s different from the feeling before he tried to play in class yesterday, like the butterflies had turned to stone and were rolling around inside him, weighing him down and making him nauseous. This time it’s promising, hopeful, familiar -- butterflies fluttering normally, peacefully.

The room is empty when Kurt pushes the doors open and drops his backpack by the entrance.

“Guys?” he calls hesitantly, to no response.

He wonders if he should be worried about where the ghosts might be, or relieved for if they really did leave after all, since that is what he wanted… but he realizes relief is not at all what he feels at that possibility.

But if the ghosts aren’t here, then all the better for what he wants to do, so he decides to ignore their absence for now.

Kurt walks up to the grand piano in the middle of the room, thinking. There’s something… something deep loosening in his chest -- something about Blaine and the others and their intense passion for music that is so different from the intense judgment and competition at school that made it so impossible for him to play yesterday.

The way Blaine had talked about music…

The one thing they lived for in the first place -- they can still do.

A gift.

Kurt spreads out the sheet music that he found yesterday, just placed on the piano lid without a glance and it’s still there, so Blaine and the others must have just taken a look at it. He recognizes his mother’s handwriting, achingly familiar and beautiful in a minimalistic way, the neat notes and lyrics, clean and legible even without the help of staff lines. His heart stutters and he gasps a little as he reads some of it -- he recognizes the song. Something his mom told him she was writing when she got sick.

Kurt used to be so involved in her songwriting, but as she got worse and Kurt grew away from the piano (and from his voice), he never asked about this song.

She’d finished it.

Here’s the one thing I want you to know, you got someplace to go…

And he needs to hear it.

His fingers tremble slightly as he places them gingerly on the keys over the starting notes of the song. It feels completely different than it did yesterday; he doesn’t know if it’s the lack of teacher and students watching, the insanity of yesterday evening in between, the song itself… but the stones turned back into butterflies and it almost feels like it did before….

He wants to play, to make music. For the first time in a year, he actually feels like he can. And he needs to.

And if -- when -- it unlocks the memories… he thinks he’s ready.

Kurt takes a deep breath and plays.

[yayeetsonny]

Livestream Chaos~Emily Sonnett x Reader

(Here’s a quarantine fic requested by @uswnt-owns-this-homo I hope I did it justice!) some drama, but mostly fluff while reader and Emily are in quarantine.

Y/N PRO:

“Emily!” I shout in hopes of gaining her attention, to no avail.

“Emily!!” I shout even louder, still nothing.

“Emily!”

“Y/N?!” I finally hear her respond, but i still don’t hear her coming up to the room, so i continue to yell.

“Emily!” finally I hear her running in the direction of our room.

“Y/N! What is it?! What’s wrong babe?!” She comes barging in sounding out of breath from running from wherever she was.

“Oh nothing I just wanted you to pay attention to me.” I said, laughing at the shocked look on her face.

“You mean to tell me I ran up 3 flights of stairs and almost took out Bagel only for you to be perfectly okay?!”

“Exactly!” I said giving her my best smile

“Y/N! I thought something was seriously wrong! Don’t do that to me!” She said actually looking really upset.

“Oh, babe... I’m sorry, I was only joking. I didn’t mean to scare you.” I say reaching out for her, only to have her shy away from me. Frowning, I try again.

“Baby?”

“No I’m mad at you.” she said although I could tell she was only pretending now.

“I’m sorryyy. Forgive me? Pleaseee?” I said giving her my best puppy dog eyes, pulling her down onto the bed next to me.

“Mmm...” She pretended to think for a moment, playful rolled her eyes at me and relented.

“Okayyy, fine!”

“Yay!” I cheered, wrapping my arms around her waist and attaching her with kisses

“I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me.”

“Yeah, Yeah. Whatever.”

“You know you love me.”

“Yeah I do. I really do.” she looks at me lovingly.

For a moment we just stay like that, locked in a staring contest. I find myself lost in her eyes, man I really love this girl. I think to myself

“I’m so in love with you.” I finally say, breaking the staring contest.

“I am so in love with you, I might have to put a ring on it.” She says in return.

“Oh really? I was thinking the same thing.”

“Were you now?”

“Yeah I was.”

“But not anymore?”

“Now I didn’t say that... I just might have to beat you to the punch is all.” I said smirking.

“May the best women win.” Emily says as we shake on it.

“Did we really just turn a proposal into a competition?” I ask, realizing what we just agreed to.

“HA, yeah I guess we did.” She says, laughing loudly. She went to get up but I pulled her back.

“Nooooo, don’t go. I’m so bored without you.”

“Well what do you want to do? I don’t wanna lay around all day, as appealing as that sounds. We should be productive.” She said

“Since when did Emily ‘Frat daddy Jr.’ Sonnett want to be productive?” I said looking at her unconvinced.

“Excuse you! I can be productive and responsible with my time... when I want.” She said

“Okay babe, whatever you say.”

“Oh come on, why don’t we... do a livestream?!” she blurts out

“That’s productive?”

“Yes! Fan engagement is of the upmost importance. Meaning livestream = Productive.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am, besides did you know that the fans grade us and the rest of the team based on how active we are on our social and how interactive we are with them?”

“Really? Where did you see that?.”

“Tumblr.” She said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Those fans of ours come up with the best things sometimes.” I said laughing at the thought of the others “grades.”

“So livestream?”

“Livestream it is.”

We both posted to our socials saying “Livestream with the girlfriend in 20 minutes! Be there or be square!”

20 minutes later...

Emily PRO:

We got set up with my phone and sat next to each other on the couch, practically on top of one another.

“What’s up everybody! It’s Emily Sonnett here with the beautiful Y/N!” I said excitedly waving to the camera.

“Hey guys, If you didn’t already know I’m Y/N L/N, I also play on the USWNT with Emily and I also Play for the Utah Royals.” She said introducing herself

“Of course they know who you are, silly goose.” I was confused as to why she felt the need to introduce herself even though she’s been on live-streams with me before and been on the team for a year now.

“Well yeah of course but there’s always gonna new fans wanting to know who I am.”

“Oh! Right, new fans. I totally forgot. Hey if there’s new fans on the livestream right now, welcome! I play for the Orlando Pride as well as the national team.” I said suddenly flustered at the thought of forgetting new fans.

“Now who’s the silly goose?”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“I know I am.”

“Okay! Well guys send in your questions, feel free to ask us whatever you want and we’ll do our best to answer them.” I then began to read the comments as they came in.

“What do you guys do in your free time?” I read aloud for us both to answer.

“Well I workout, sometimes by myself or with Em. I play with Bagel, I eat... a lot. And that’s pretty much it.” Y/N says giggling.

“Yeah I workout too, I play with Bagel, I face time Rose just to see what her quarantine outfit of the day is, I of course face time Lindsay, constantly. Mostly to annoy her...” I said

“Okay next question...”

“Hey guys, Chris wants to know if you’re eating your vitamins, sleeping well and eating 3 meals a day. 😂” Y/N read out the comment from Mal.

“Hey Mal, yes we’re eating our daily dino vitamins, eating and sleeping. Tell Chris not to worry.”

Since Y/N plays for the Royals Christen and her have gotten really close and she’s taken her under her wing, and in doing so me as well. She worries and nags like a mom, it’s actually really sweet. She’s been extra worried about us since this quarantine thing started.

“How long have you guys been together?” I read out

“2 years and 4 months!” we said in sync proudly. I intertwined our fingers and brought them up to kiss the back of Y/N’s hand.

“Wedding bells in the future?” someone asked

“Maybe...” we said again in sync.

tons of “OMG NO WAY.” and “YESS THE SHIP HAS SAILED.” comments came flooding in as fans began to speculate when the question would be popped.

“Let’s spice things up shall we? Send us dates to do, send some truths to answer too!” Y/N said

“Truth for Emily: Did you like Y/N when you first met?” I read out

“No... BUT after really getting to know her i fell for her, fast and you know the rest.” I said, hoping to not upset my girlfriend in the process.

“Why didn’t you like me at first?” She asked in shock of my confession.

“You just seemed a little closed off and like you didn’t want to get to know the rest of us. I actually thought you didn’t like me.” I said hoping that, this didn’t start a fight.

“Oh... I didn’t know that.” She said seemingly thinking over what I said.

“It’s okay, I didn’t really give you a fair chance at first but we’re happy now right?” I asked worriedly

“Happier than ever.” she said after a minute. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in.

“Good.”

“Okay... Uh ooo here’s a dare!”

“I dare you both to put the other on your shoulders and touch the ceiling.” Y/N read out

“Okay seems easy enough.” I said

“You ready?”

“Yeah let’s do it.”

We got up and moved the phone so that the fans could see what we were doing and prepared to do the dare.

“Okay....” I took a deep breath and wiped my hands on my shorts. I was actually really afraid that someone was gonna get hurt, neither of us are the most coordinated when not on the field. I agreed to go first, Y/N nodded her head to let me know she was ready, squatted down so that I could put my legs over her shoulders so I was sitting on them. She rubbed my knee to let me know she had me and to calm me a little, she could tell I was a little uneasy. She then slowly began to stand up but stopped part way when I yelped loudly in suprise.

“You okay?” she asked laughing nervously.

“Yeah babe, keep going, it’s okay.”

“Alright.”

She then grabbed my hand in one of hers to steady me and kept going. We were almost there when she wobbled slightly, but then regained her footing.

“Keep going you got it.”

Finally she was fully standing and I was able to touch the ceiling with both hands.

“Yes!” I cheered victoriously

“Woah, woah. Easy!” Y/N yelled, startled.

“Sorry, Sorry! Okay let me get down, nice and easy...”

Y/N slowly crouched down so that I was able to get down and then stood up again, giving me a hug once we were both back on the ground.

“Nailed it! Okay your turn love!” I said ready to do it again. 

We repeated the process but this time with Y/N on my shoulders, she was able to touch the ceiling as well and I was getting ready to let her down when o felt a sneeze coming.

“Oh no.”

“What oh no? don’t say that. that’s not a good sign, what?”

“I- I’m gonna sneeze.”

“Emily don’t.”

“I’m trying to Stop- ” but it was too late, I sneezed and not just any sneeze, it was a dad sneeze. It was super loud and it shook my whole body. I wobbled, letting go of Y/N’s hand to try to cover my nose. Only realizing my mistake when Y/N began to slip off my shoulders.

“Emily!” she cried out, I tried to catch her but I couldn’t and she landed on the floor with a really painful sounding thud.

“Y/N! Okay guys, uh I have to make sure that she’s okay, I’m gonna end the live now. I’ll update you guys when I can bye!” I rushed out in one breath.

I quickly ended the live so the fans didn’t see what happened next. I rushed to Y/N’s side and began to see if she was badly injured.

“Y/N! Are you okay?! Talk to me babe, Please!”

“Emily?”

“Oh my god, you’re not unconscious, thank god!”

“No I’m not, but I think I was for a minute there. What happened?” Y/N rolled onto her stomach holding her nose. I could see blood gushing out of it and I started to panic. I looked around trying to find something to stop the bleeding and finally just decided to use my shirt.

“You fell off my shoulders, I- babe I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have let go of your hand.. Here.” I moved her hand so I could press my shirt to her nose.

“It’s okay, I’m good. I- I’m good. Just a little blood, that’s all.” Y/N said but I could tell she was out of it.

“Oh man, okay sit up.” I helped her sit up and continued to hold my shirt on her face.

“Hi...”

“Hey.”

“you wanna stand up or stay sitting?”

“I should probably stay down for now. My head hurts.”

“I’m sorry love, I am so so so-”

“Stop. It’s okay, I’m okay. It was an accident.” She said cutting me off and giving me the best smile she could under the circumstances.

We continued to try to stop the bleeding from her nose, it took a while and I started to worry I was gonna have to take her to the emergency room but it finally stopped and we were able to get her cleaned up. After letting the fans know she was okay, she took a shower after convincing me she was okay to be left to her own devices. I was in the kitchen making her favorite dinner and setting everything up for a romantic night when my phone began to ring. I looked to see who was calling and saw Christen’s name pop up on my screen.

“Shit.”

“Emily!” She shouted into the phone.

“Y-yes Chris?” I said timidly.

“What happened to Y/N?” Why did Mal come bursting into Tobin and I’s room telling us she’s hurt? What happened?!”

“Uh... well you see, it... we... it was just a dare but she was on my shoulders trying to touch the ceiling and she did but when I went to let her down I sneezed and I lost my grip and she fell, she had a bloody nose and her head still hurts but she’s okay! I swear!” I said hoping she wouldn’t kill me through the phone.

I could hear her sigh deeply on the other end of the line and I’d bet anything she was pinching the bridge of her nose. “She’s okay?”

“Yes Chris.”

“Okay. First off no more dares, no climbing on each other or any furniture for that matter. Y/N is to rest for the next week and she is not to do anything to strenuous until I say otherwise? Got it?”

“Yes Christen. How will you know when to clear her?”

“I’ll make her call and face time me everyday so I can see for myself how she is. Make sure she ices her nose and if her head doesn’t stop hurting take her to the doctor.”

“I will. Promise.”

After I got off the phone with Christen, and Y/N got out of the shower we sat down to eat dinner. I was the first to break the comfortable silence.

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

“I told you, it’s okay. I’m okay.” she took my hand rubbing her thumb over my knuckle gently. We continued to talk about anything and everything. After dinner we decided to cuddle on the couch while watching Y/N’s favorite movie.

“Chris was pretty mad huh?”

“yeah but she won’t stay that way for long.”

“What should we call what happened today when we inevitably have to tell the story over and over?”

“What about... Livestream chaos.?” I said making dramatic movements with my hands

“I love it.” Y/N giggled, kissing me gently.

“I could kiss you forever.” I said lovingly.

“I hope you do.” Y/N said kissing me again.

THE END

 Sorry about mistakes, this isn’t edited. Oh and to the person who graded all the girls on their engagement with socials and the fans if you see this i thought that was great. :)

[purplesurveys]

797

What is your favorite thing to do on your phone? Fucking around on social media like a true Gen Z-er would, lmao. I have several games that I’d play occasionally, but most of the time I just check the same three apps – Messenger, Facebook, and Twitter. Do you know what you are going to be for Halloween this year? If so, what? I don’t even know if I have plans for the rest of the year. Do you still go trick-or-treating, and if so, how old are you? The last time we did was 2015, when we were 17. Nowadays we just have costume parties. Which Disney princess resembles you the most? At the moment it’s probably Moana, but I heard they’re making a Southeast Asian Disney princess so I’m waiting for her :) What color was your first phone? I’m not sure what the model’s actual color was because it was already in a Winnie the Pooh case when I got it as a present, but the case itself was red.

Was your first phone a flip phone? No, it was one of the Nokia ones with a slightly green screen and the Snake game on it. Have you ever butt dialed someone? I don’t think so. It’s normally the other way around. What is your favorite pizza parlor? We don’t have many of that around here; most places serve a little bit of everything with pizzas usually having its own section on the menu. That said, my favorite place to get pizza is Mama Lou’s if I have some cash on me and want to be fancy, and Yellow Cab if I want fast food pizza but still quality pizza. What is an old website that closed down that you miss? I’m pretty sure Tumblr shut down my old survey blog, the one I’ve had since 2012 or 2013, and I’m very bummed out by it. It’s also weird to me because I have a blog that’s been inactive for much longer and that one is still up... so I don’t know why they would shut down the blog that served as my journal during my teen years. I occasionally look back on it to see how I was doing then and compare it to who I am now, so it sucks that I can’t do that anymore. If you're a girl, have you ever had an embarrassing period story? I guess, but I’ve also reached a point where I’ve stopped seeing period mishaps as embarrassing. Stuff like that just happens sometimes, and I can’t be around people who are going to be babies about it. ...If so, what happened? The worst instance was leaking during a PE workout and my classmate pointing it out for me, and then having to change into denim jeans for the rest of the workout since that was the only other pair of bottoms I had.  What was your worst experience in high school? I can remember one but I don’t wanna relive my anxieties here by writing it in full detail so no thanks. What was your high school's mascot? We don’t have a mascot; we only had colors. Do you listen to Grace VanderWaal? Only if she’s on the radio. I don’t dislike her but I also don’t think I’ve ever looked up her music voluntarily. ...if yes, what's your favorite song of hers? I’m not familiar with her song titles. I’ve caught some songs that I liked but I wouldn’t be able to tell you which ones they were. Do you watch America's Got Talent? Only the compilation videos they’ve got on YouTube. Which country has the best accent? I don’t really rank accents lol Did you cry at your high school graduation? I cried the night before. I find that I don’t usually cry when an event that’s supposed to be emotional is happening, but I do cry before or after it. Did you cry at your college graduation (if applicable)? LOL if applicable, fucking same. I think I’ll mostly be relieved when it finally happens because I’m expecting it to keep getting postponed for now. Do your parents try to stop you from chasing your dreams? No, but they’re also realistic. I tried to court my dad about having an internship with WWE at Connecticut, and he was less than enthusiastic about it which I completely understood. What dreams have stuck with you since childhood? My dream house, to go to Wrestlemania, and to have a lot of money hahaha. Who is a former friend that you wish would come back into your life? Egh, I feel like the way life has turned out has been for the best and I’m currently not wishing any of my former friends back. I suppose it would be nice to have my relationship with Macy back, though. Have you ever been in a serious romantic relationship? Yes, like the one I’m in now. Who was your favorite Spice Girl? I didn’t have one but I did have a soft spot for Victoria Beckham since she’s always in fashion magazines and also because her family has always looked so happy. But I never really liked her as part of the group? because I knew about Victoria before I knew about the Spice Girls. Sorryyy please put your pitchforks down I was born in 1998 :(( <333 Did you ever want to be in a band or music group? No. What instrument did you play in the marching band? We don’t have a club like that here. If you could take any one type of dance class right now, what kind you take? Ballet. Who got kicked off of your favorite talent show that you were mad about? There were a gazillion unfair eliminations on American Idol but I remember being most pissed off over Scotty McCreery’s win and Pia Toscano’s elimination. Do you own the entire series on DVD of any TV show? If so, what? I have a bootleg box set of the 80s sitcom Perfect Strangers, but other than that I’ve been able to watch TV shows via torrent or Netflix, soooo. What show did you always want to be on when you were a kid? I wanted to be a part of the dancing audience on Hi-5, and to be dumped with slime at the Nickelodeon Kids’ Choice Awards lol. Can you tell the difference between Mary-Kate and Ashley? No. Who is your favorite set of twins? Seoeon and Seojun from The Return of Superman. What is the stupidest baby name you have heard recently? Welp, nothing has beaten Covid Bryant yet... What is the grossest thing you have ever vomited up? Nothing too gross. Just alcohol. Have you ever thrown up in public, in front of someone else? Yes. The sensation of puking terrifies me so there’ve been a few times I asked Gabie to go to the Pop-Up washroom with me, enter a stall also with me, and to calm me down while I throw up D: ...If yes, was it embarrassing? I don’t find it embarrassing because she’s my girlfriend. I’d never ask anyone else to do the same thing for me though. Did you ever take your dog to school? Just once, for my graduation shoot. Name one person you know who had a baby in high school. No one in my batch had a baby while in high school, just shortly after. I’m not naming them but one of them already has three kids, one has a boy, and another one also has a boy. Do you keep a list of your favorite quotes? No. Describe your dream wedding in three words. Lots of food. What is your favorite Chinese restaurant? Tim Ho Wan or King Bee. Does Chinese food make you feel sick? No. Well Filipinos are kinda used to Chinese food, so it would be odd for us to get sick from it. Have you ever seen someone throw up on a plane? Fortunately no. But on a boat and a ship, yes. Do you get motion sickness? Yes, easily.

I’m just going to ignore the next seven questions because I’m tired of entertaining questions like these. Has God ever healed you of anything? If so, what? Do you believe in God? Do you pray, and if so, to whom? What is the most boring church you have ever attended? What is the most lively church you have ever attended? Do you find church fun or boring? When was the last time you went to a church service? When did you learn to ride a bike? I haven’t learned yet. I’ve had a few lucky rounds but they never lasted for more than five seconds. What do you hate the most about summer? The weather. Certainly not as fun when there’s no breeze from the beach complementing the heat. What is your favorite thing to do in a swimming pool? Stay away wherever most of the people are because it’s a little gross. Which part of your body is the most muscular? I don’t know. Do you like sugar skulls? No. Have you ever painted a sugar skull on your face? I probably had it done as a kid. Are you an artist? No. Did you ever take Latin in school? No but we were taught French very briefly because the foundress of my old school is from France. The lessons didn’t really catch on. What was the last race you ran called? I’ve never been in a race/marathon/walkathon before. Do you prefer to run in the street or on the sidewalk? Side of the street. Sidewalks are pretty inconsistent so I’m more likely to trip running on it. Which major holiday is closest to your birthday? Easter is always very near or exactly on my birthday.

[indigomez]

Moment’s with Parker #2

Theme: Fluffy!!!

Pairing: Peter x Reader :)

Summary: Happy Valentine's day ;)

A/N: I’M SORRYYY!!! PLEASE DON’T HATE MEEEHHH I know I haven’t been posting lately that is completely my fault, just. You know... I gotta live (sadly) and shit so, I hope you enjoy and please forgive mee :(( I WENT OFF

A s k b o x   ~ S u b m i t a p o s t  ~ M a s t e r l i s t 

 Taglist~ : @drakesfiance @whiny-the-poo-bear @underoos-shield @spidervveb @just4muggles @hollandxvoid @themarauderstheoutsidersandpeggy @twilightparker @ukulele-tea-and-ocean @harryshollands @wronglanemendes

  You absolutely hated Valentine's day, you’ve been single and sad about it every time it rolled around. It was always just... A shitty holiday, well...

That was before you and Peter started dating. 

But surprisingly, his attitude never changed. Usually, during holidays, he’s extra sweet and charming. But today was just... Normal, it was freaking you out.

You sighed while walking into your class, tugging at your heavy ass book bag. Grunting as you sat down and placing it on the science desk. Peter smiled, 

“Hey babe, how’s it going-”

“Great.” You grumbled, shifting in your seat. “What’s wrong?” He muttered, “Just... I don’t know I just hate valentines day.” Peter froze, basically stuttering in his mind as he just blinked at you. After setting up your class work, you looked at Pete. “Are you trying to talk to me by blinking in Morse code?” You laughed, he shook his head. “N-Nothing! Nothing at - at all.” He muttered, 

And that was the only time he talked to you, all day he was sweating bullets, literally stuttering as if it was the time you moved into school. During lunch, he was dead quiet, during history class, where he usually talks the most he was just. Staring off into space. And just being... Not himself!

So, when school ended, Ned just bolted out of the room so fast. It scared you half to death. 

When you and Peter walked home, it was like nothing happened . But you didn’t wanna ask, you just enjoyed your walk with him. Hand in hand as you two laughed and joked around. “But babe, can I ask you something?” You looked up at him, already admiring his adorable features. "I know you told me before, but. Why do you hate Valentine's day?"

“Well, it’s just... You know middle school, and at my old high school. Valentine's day was always the time when my ex just... Didn’t get it? Like he would always buy the basic roses and chocolates and shit I don’t like. Not comparing you to him but, I don’t know... Valentine’s was just never a good holiday for me... How about you-”

You both stopped walking as he looked at his wristwatch. He sighed, “I’m so sorry babe.” He whined, you only smiled at him and cupped his baby face. “It’s fine, go do your job. I’ll see you later.” He smiled back kissing your lips before handing is back pack to you. Running off into the alleyway, you watched in awe as you saw him swing fast from the alleyway and into the cities sky scrapers.

You placed all the decorations in the box, you decided to spend a cute valentines day date with him. You got all his favorite things, that Legos kit he’s been dying to try with you, his favorite snacks and candies, sodas and your radio. You and Pete lived in the same apartment complex, so you had the avantage of using the roof that showed a beautiful view of the city. But when you opened the roof dor, you saw the most adorable set up. It was like straight out of tumblr or something. 

But instantly you thought it was for someone else, but you looked closer. Walking out onto the rooftop as you saw, your favorite things. Bright yellow sunflowers were displayed on the familiar table sheets. You found Peter’s radio just sitting there, placing your stuff down. You looked at the beautiful fairy lights, you’ve never been so close to crying.

You whipped around, hearing Peter grunt as he landed on his feet. He stood up straight before taking his mask off. 

fffffuck-

He panted, smiling at you as his face just grew more red. “Babe?” You walked up to him, he put the bag down before placing his hands on your hips. “Was this for us?”

“For you.” He chuckled, he leaned over, pressing on the radio. You laughed as your song came on. He quickly changed before pulling out a large batch of georgus sunflowers. Your favorite flower 

“I just wanted to... You know.” He muttered, smiling as you took the batch in your arms. “No no no, hold them like this.” He whispered, sliding behind you as he held out your hands, he pressed a button as the main sunflowers base opened up, you laughed, the soft confetti surrounded you two. “I love it... You’ve offically made this the best Valentine’s day ever...” You sniffled, you faced Peter.

“I’m glad I made you happy, I was scared you wouldn’t lke it.” You placed the flowers down on the table, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Pete, to be fairly honest with you. You always make me happy.”

“You alwas make me happy... too.” He muttered, “Happy Valentines day.” He smiled, cupping your face as he kissed you softly. After you two pulled away, you placed your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you. Yo utwo just looked at the city lights.