#is working on some physical therapy since he HAS all his memories lol

[eggs-can-draw]

Kokichi physical therapy arc real

[roosterr]

Hi idk if you're accepting requests but I literally just read the amnesia fic, and I was wondering if I could request where reader suddenly remembers everything, and sprints around base trying to find them, and just jumps on them crying and apologizing for forgetting them. Just some really fluffy comfort? It's okay if you don't want to write this lol

the 141 when you have amnesia – p2

note: i have received your therapy bills :)

wc: 5.2k

warnings: still a bit angsty I'm sorry I couldn't resist, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injury and blood, happy endings for all I promise

ao3

[part one]

price

✹ john thought your initial reaction was a good sign. you seemed to be taking things well, considering the extent of your injuries, and it was only a matter of time before your memories returned.

✹ your spirits are high when you're reintroduced to the team, and though you don't remember them either you do say they feel familiar, which he takes as a good sign for your recovery.

✹ when you're finally discharged, he takes you home, to the house that the two of you bought together. he shows you the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls, fondly retelling the stories of each one to you even though you were there, and these are your pictures.

✹ if you notice the way he chokes up when you get to your wedding photos, you don't say anything.

✹ like the true gentleman he is, he insists on sleeping on the sofa and leaving you to take the bed, despite your protests about it being his home too. even though you were receptive, he would never risk making you uncomfortable by sleeping in the same bed when he was, essentially, a stranger.

✹ in all your years of marriage, he's never slept on the sofa before. the two of you rarely go to bed without each other, apart from the times you're separated by your job, and consequently he finds himself not getting much rest.

✹ you're still on leave while you're physically recovering from being in a coma, so john has to go to work without you every morning, something he also hasn't done since you got married. he wishes he could bring you with him anyway, just to have you near him, but he knows that's selfish and you still need time.

✹ the base is dull without you.

✹ again, he keeps up the appearance that he's okay, and maybe it's a little more true this time now that you're actually awake, but he still feels your absence like a weight on his shoulders.

✹ the other three are pleased amongst themselves about your recovery, gaz and soap constantly asking him how you are; and he knows they mean well, but it's still irritating because how could you be okay? you don't even remember your own husband, nothing about this is okay.

✹ he keeps his grievances to himself though. he's still their captain, he can't afford to fall apart when he still has a job to do.

✹ he's woken up one night by soft footsteps in the living room. his neck aches as his eyes snap open, every sense on high alert until he realises it's just you. a quiet grunt escapes him as he sits up, massaging his sore muscles from sleeping on the sofa.

✹ when the sound of muffled crying reaches his ears, he's immediately on his feet, his heart racing as he shuffles over to where you're standing with a hand covering your mouth.

✹ he presses a hand to your back, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. you don't look at him, your crying only increasing in volume now you're not worried about waking him.

✹ now that he's right next to you, he sees through the darkness that you're holding one of your wedding photos. it's his favourite picture, the one where he's lifting you with an arm around your waist and you're both gazing into each other's eyes with the most lovestruck expression on your faces.

✹ "i– i know i love you, so wh-why can't i just remember you?" you sputter in between sobs, and you might as well have just ripped his heart out of his chest, because he can't stop the way he breaks down at your words.

✹ john wraps both arms tightly around you, caging you to his chest and nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder while pressing his own tear-stained face into the top of your head.

✹ "it's alright, love–" his voice cracks pitifully, and he's never felt quite as hopeless as he does in this moment. "it'll be alright, you'll remember, i promise…"

✹ he's not sure who he's trying to convince, you or himself as you both sink to the floor in each other's embrace. you stay like that for hours, crying for your lost memory into the early morning.

✹ after that, he can't be bothered to pretend he's okay anymore.

✹ he starts drinking again, shamelessly in the middle of the day and grumbling at gaz and ghost when they wrestle the bottle away from him. he knows you'd disapprove, but the toll of lying to himself and everyone around him has caught up. all he wanted was his partner back, the love of his life, you.

✹ the others try to knock some sense into him, but talking to him becomes like going back and forth with a brick wall. gaz even gets kate on the phone to yell at him, but nothing seems to get through. he orders them to leave him alone, stop asking about you, and it really feels like he's lost hope.

✹ it goes on like this for a week straight, nearly a full month since you first woke up.

✹ and then one boring afternoon, there's a commotion outside his office. john hears cheers and shouts from down the corridor, but he can't bring himself to care enough to investigate.

✹ he's not in the mood to celebrate whatever it is they're cheering about anyway.

✹ john's just about to stand and yell at them to shut up, but then you're suddenly standing at his door, slamming it behind you as you rush over to his desk. his face must be the picture of surprise as he swivels in his chair to follow you as you approach, opening his legs for you to stand between them.

✹ his breath catches in his throat as you cup his face, your touch so tender it has his heart hammering against his sternum like the very first time you touched him all those years ago. he plants his hands firmly on your hips, too afraid of getting his hopes up to say a single word as he watches you get closer.

✹ your face hovers just above his, warm breath fanning over his face as you inch ever closer. he sees your eyes glistening before they flutter shut, brushing your lips against his with an anticipation that has his skin tingling.

✹ when you pull away, his eyes stay closed, but he can hear the smile in your voice when you whisper,

✹ "i remember you now."

✹ his heart might’ve actually stopped at your words, surprise shooting through him like a bolt of lightning as his eyes snap open.

✹ in a second, he's lifting you by the waist and dropping you onto his desk, uncaring for the various papers that he brushes out of the way to make room for you.

✹ he can't stop the overjoyed laugh that rumbles in his chest now he's the one standing between your legs, gripping your face and pushing his lips back against your with all the passion he's been bottling up during your recovery.

✹ you smile into the kiss too, wrapping your arms securely around his neck, running your fingers up his neck and through his hair. it feels like a weight has lifted, something heavy in the back of his mind finally dissipating and allowing him to relax into your hold.

✹ the two of you break away after a moment, keeping him close to you as you press your forehead to his. "i'm sorry that i ever forgot you."

✹ "i can think of a way you can make it up to me, love…"

gaz

✹ you're so apologetic about your amnesia, it breaks his heart all over again. what's worse is that he has no idea what to do; he doesn't want to try and force you to remember, that would just stress you out more, but he wants you to remember him so desperately he feels it ache in his bones.

✹ in the end, he decides to just let things play out. he wants you to recover at your own pace, and not just because of him and how he feels about you.

✹ he also doesn't say a word about your relationship, but with how he initially reacted, he's sure you got the idea. you don't mention it either, which admittedly hurts a little, but he's sure the confusion of waking up to having a boyfriend who's name you don't even know is worse than how he feels about it.

✹ kyle vows to take care of you the moment you're discharged. he takes you to your room, shows you where everything is, makes sure you know where he is should you ever need anything, and he even introduces you to the others again.

✹ you still remember your job and how to do it so, once you're physically well enough, you get right back to it. they carry on as normal, the rest of the taskforce – assimilating you back into their nights of drinking and fucking around as if you'd never left.

✹ kyle still doesn't feel right about it.

✹ he doesn't want to treat you like glass, because you're exactly the same as when he first met you. you're still quick-witted, stubborn, and one of the toughest people he knows, you just… don't know him.

✹ it kills him on the inside, but he stays strong for you; the last thing he wants is to become the mess of a man he was when you were out, he doesn't want you to see him like that. he sorely misses spending his nights with you, and talking endlessly about your days to each other. he sends you longing glances every time you look away, wondering if you'd ever feel the same again.

✹ if you can go back to living normally, why can't he?

✹ but as the weeks go by, kyle notices how you start to withdraw, the loneliness that blocks out the light in your eyes that he loves so much. you fade into the background of conversations, sticking to listening rather than engaging.

✹ you watch them from afar, and he still knows you well enough to know what's going through your head. feeling somehow like you belong and also like an outsider at the same time, wishing you could understand the inside jokes you were a part of.

✹ he wishes more than anything that there was something he could do – make you understand that you're wanted, and you're a valuable part of the team even without your memories, but any time he brings it up you simply brush him off with that far away look in your eyes.

✹ three weeks go by before anything changes.

✹ it's the first time in a while they finally have an afternoon off, so of course they decide to spend it playing football on one of the fields within the bounds of the base. soap and ghost on one team, gaz and the captain on the other, with you spectating and keeping score on the sidelines. 

✹ kyle offered to sit out if you wanted to play, but you'd brushed him off with the excuse of wanting to rest and read your book, laying out your jacket on the grass to sit on.

✹ he could tell you weren't all there, but he didn't know how to help you; so he just reassured you that you could call him over if you needed anything, and left you to guard his own jacket and water bottle before running off to join the game.

✹ the whole time he was sprinting around the field, he couldn't stop looking over to you over by the sidelines. he wasn't with it, he hadn't been since you woke up, really, and the others could tell.

✹ price abruptly calls half-time, clapping gaz on the shoulder and giving him a knowing look. "just talk to 'em, before it eats you alive." he chides, pushing him in your direction before he can think to protest.

✹ with a deep sigh and a glace backwards to the others, who shoo him away without a word, he jogs over to where you're sitting. the way the late afternoon sun hits you just right stops kyle dead in his tracks when he catches how it glows in your eyes. he feels a pull in his chest as he approaches you.

✹ you look up from your book as his shadow reaches you, shooting him a tiny smile as he drops himself next to you. he takes a swig from his water bottle as he catches his breath, extremely conscious of the way your teammates are pretending not to watch him while he comes up with the words.

✹ "so, who's winning then?" you ask, turning so you're facing him. he sees how your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.

✹ "aren't you supposed to be keepin' score?" kyle chuckles, shifting slightly closer to you as you look away with a bashful expression. he allows your hands to brush, wanting nothing more than to lock your fingers together.

✹ "i'm not really paying attention."

✹ there's a beat of silence and that helpless feeling is back as he watches you look back out to the field, where the others are still kicking the ball back and forth.

✹ "how you doin'?" he asks, keeping his voice low as he leans in even closer to you. your mouth opens to respond, that slightly off smile back on your face, but before you can he places his hand fully over yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. "actually."

✹ you sigh, heavy and tired, and bring your gaze back over to his. "it's… hard." you begin, your eyes betraying the internal struggle. "and i'm… i know, before, we were–"

✹ he blinks and you're being sent over backwards by a football flying into your face with a smack that makes kyle's ears ring.

✹ immediately he's crouching over you, helping you sit back up and pressing the sleeve of his jacket to your nose, uncaring for the blood that stains it.

✹ "you alright?" he murmurs, gently holding your face as he inspects your nose. you nod, wincing at the movement, and take the sleeve of his jacket from him.

✹ once he's sure you're okay, his vision turns red with anger. it's pretty obvious who kicked the ball when he whips around to see soap kneeling on the ground with his head in his hands.

✹ "oi!" kyle shouts, sending him a deadly glare as he gets up. "soap, what the fuck!"

✹ the man in question looks up from his hands, an incredibly guilty look on his face. "i'm sorry pal! i dinnae ken what happened!"

✹ "just piss off, you prick!"

✹ kyle looks back to you, crouching down again with a concerned frown; but you're already looking at him, the silhouette of his own form reflected in your wide eyes. your nose is still dripping blood, but you drop his jacket and your hands to your lap anyway, mouth agape as you stare back at him.

✹ "what's wrong? are you–"

✹ you cut him off by tackling him to the ground with your arms around his neck, squeezing a surprised 'oof' from him as you land on top of his chest. one of his hands flies to your waist to steady you, the other carefully cradling your head.

✹ "i remember!" you cry, an elated laugh bubbling up as fresh tears wet your cheeks.

✹ kyle lets out a relieved laugh of his own, craning his neck to plant his lips firmly on yours with an infectious grin. in the background the others groan at the display of affection, but neither of you pay them any mind.

✹ eventually the two of you pull away, a wide smile still plastered on both of your faces as you get up from the grass. he pulls you in with the hand that still hasn't moved from your waist and leans to whisper in your ear,

✹ "fancy kickin' soap's arse?"

✹ "you read my mind."

soap

✹ johnny's enthusiastic with your recovery. anyone could've guessed that from the moment you woke up he'd be doting, eager to help you in any way you could need.

✹ yes, you didn't remember him, but be was just so ecstatic that you were okay – apart from the amnesia – that he couldn't find it in himself to be disappointed about it. you'd get your memories back soon enough, and then everything would go right back to the way it was.

✹ sometimes he gets a little carried away, forgets that while you are technically in a relationship, he's not much more than a stranger to you right now. more than once you end up having to ask him for some space because he's so incredibly touchy, and you're not sure how to handle it.

✹ you also request a temporary room to sleep in while you recover, separate from him. johnny's not sure how he feels about it.

✹ he feels that sinking feeling in his chest whenever you push him back with a hand on his chest, a polite smile tugging at your lips. it's disheartening, but he tries not to let it get to him. you'll remember soon, and then this will all be in the past.

✹ maybe you'll even laugh about it, how you could ever forget your wonderful boyfriend.

✹ he takes it upon himself to read up on amnesia, so he can better understand how to help you in any way you might need. once he learns that exposure to memories that you've lost can help your recovery, he eagerly convinces you to let him show you places that have meaning to you and your relationship with him.

✹ you agree, and he didn't actually need to do much convincing because you seem just as interested in the idea as him. he knocks on your door the following evening, offering you a single rose before whisking you away with a charming smile.

✹ he takes you on your first date all over again, with the same level of enthusiasm as before. he treats you to dinner at a relatively nice restaurant, telling you all about how the two of you got together in the first place, and memories you have together. he even orders you dessert, recalling with a chuckle how he accidentally guessed your favourite on your actual first date.

✹ once you both finish eating, he guides you by the hand to the canal for the second half of the date, a romantic moonlit stroll by the water. he pulls you close with an arm around your shoulders, meeting your eyes with a fond smile and a blush dusting his cheeks.

✹ "hold on…" you mutter, a pensive expression taking over your face as you stop walking. you turn to gaze at the water, seemingly working something out in your mind. "this… this is where gaz fell into the river that one time, right?"

✹ johnny's heart misses a beat, his eyes lighting up with renewed, excited hope as he grins at you. "you remember?"

✹ "a little, yeah," you smile, dropping your gaze and hands from his with a sorry scratch at the back of your neck. "the rest is still blank, though…"

✹ his smile falters, but he's quick to make sure you don't see his disappointment by pulling you into a reassuring hug. "that's still somethin'! you'll be good as new in nae time!"

✹ the next morning, he finds you and gaz in the rec room on one of the couches, talking animatedly with each other. that familiar shine is in your eyes, the sight johnny's been missing for the last few months. it makes his heart feel light, finally seeing you acting like your normal self again after so long.

✹ he approaches you both, watching you fondly as you talk and laugh with gaz, but his good mood is soured when you only briefly acknowledge his arrival when he sits down across from you, before resuming your conversation with gaz. his brow twitches downwards.

✹ gaz is one of your closest friends, and he’s glad you remembered him. he's happy that you got part of your memory back, even if it wasn't a part that included him.

✹ this was a good thing. you'd remember him soon, he was sure of it.

✹ a few more days pass until anything else notable happens. while you were in the gym together, you told him you felt a headache coming on, so he offered to walk you to the infirmary for some painkillers. the casual conversation you made on the way wouldn't have bothered him before, but he just couldn't shake the image of you and gaz being so comfortable, while he's still stuck on the outside.

✹ he doesn't say anything though. making you feel bad about it won't solve anything, and it's not like you're doing it on purpose, he knows you wouldn't do that to him. you were just excited to have a familiar face, that's all.

✹ while you're waiting for the medic on call, your head suddenly snaps to attention and you get that same pensive look on your face as that night by the river.

✹ "you got something?" johnny asks, bringing his hand up to rest on your upper back. he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but he can't help the way his heart flutters with optimism.

✹ you nod, a smile growing on your features. "i remember that time lt. dislocated my shoulder, and price basically forced him apologise to me," you laugh, thankfully facing away from johnny as his lips turn downwards, "god, he was pissed, it was honestly kinda funny."

✹ "what, uhm…" he lightly clears his throat, hoping you don't hear the dejection in his voice, "what about me?"

✹ you meet his eyes again with an apologetic shake of your head. "i'm sorry, soap…"

✹ "yer fine, it's–" he swallows thickly, waving you off with an exaggerated smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "this is good, it's progress."

✹ since then, he's given you more space. it's clear to him that his efforts aren't helping you remember him, it actually feels like it's having the opposite effect. of course, he's glad you remember your friends, but you still don't remember him – your own boyfriend.

✹ it's wrong, and he knows it is, but he's jealous.

✹ he has to watch you carry on like usual, without him. you haven't set foot in the room you used to share together since before you were comatose. he's done his best to disguise how much it hurts, but it still annoys him how no one else seems to notice how wrong it all is. the others don't need you like he does, they don't lay awake at night going over every moment, treasuring the time you called him yours, yearning with every fibre of his being to go back.

✹ it's been a month and a half since you woke up, six weeks of being so close yet so unbearably far from you. he prays to any god that will listen to bring you back to him, allow him to hold you in his arms once more, but nothing ever changes.

✹ the thread he's been hanging on by ever since you went down on that mission gone wrong is one more bad day away from snapping.

✹ he's approached by gaz one morning, while waiting for the others to begin training, who takes it upon himself to ask johnny about how you're recovering. when gaz teases him about how he was the first person you remembered, and johnny thinks he might just strangle him.

✹ "careful, soap, i might steal 'em away," gaz laughs, patting his shoulder with a camaraderie soap scoffs at.

✹ "shut the fuck up." he snarls, his face bunched in a strikingly out of character scowl. his hands twitch at his sides, nails digging painfully into his palms.

✹ gaz blinks, his eyebrows shooting up, clearly taken aback by the hostility from his friend. "alright, i was only jokin', mate."

✹ "aye, well, i'm nae laughin'."

✹ the tension is stifling. he can tell gaz wants to say something more, but he holds his tongue – too worried about upsetting soap any further.

✹ they stand in silence with each other like that for a while, gaz watching him from the corner of his eye while he keeps his gaze firmly on the grass below him.

✹ thankfully, after not too long the uneasy atmosphere is interrupted by a shout from the direction of the building, "johnny!"

✹ his head snaps to attention to see you, grinning uncontrollably and sprinting towards him at full speed.

✹ "wha–" he's caught off guard by how you leap into his arms, hooking your arms around his neck as he stumbles backwards in surprise.

✹ before he has time to question your actions, you're smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss that has johnny's head spinning. he wastes no time in reciprocating, securing one arm around your waist and bringing the other to the back of your head, using it you press you impossibly closer to him as he groans into your mouth.

✹ you reluctantly pull away, just enough to take a shaky breath, but johnny's had stays put on the back of your head. "i'm sorry i forgot, i'm sorry…" you mumble against his lips, dragging your fingers through the unkempt hair of his mohawk.

✹ he drops his head into the juncture of you neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of you that he's gone so long without. he laughs into you, slightly delirious and just so overjoyed to have you in his arms again that feels his eyes sting with tears.

✹ "i've missed you, bonnie," he chuckles wetly, pressing his lips back to yours in another desperate kiss, "i've missed you so much,"

✹ "i'll never forget you again."

ghost

✹ he avoids you like the plague.

✹ or he tries to, at least. but truth be told, after spending so much time learning to be vulnerable around you and allowing you into his guarded heart, it's difficult to go back to being a stranger to you.

✹ that, and he doesn't actually want to.

✹ but he needs to. being around you, the love of his life, knowing that you don't remember him, it's like a knife stuck between his ribs. any time he's in the same room as you he finds himself fighting the urge to grab your hand, or press his forehead against you.

✹ he knows you don't want him anymore, the last thing you deserve is a giant of a man – who you're clearly afraid of, even if you won't say it – hanging around you like a shadow.

✹ you're still kind to him, because of course you are, checking in on him and trying to talk to him any opportunity you get. it's nice, sometimes he can even pretend everything is normal when he shares a laugh with you, but then he sees the hesitance in your eyes and he's brought back to the cold reality of the situation.

✹ the weeks drag like this, every fleeting look from you another bleeding wound on his heart.

✹ he keeps it together surprisingly well, all things considered, but the breaking point comes when you find him having a smoke one night, on a bench just outside the barracks.

✹ "simon?" your voice cuts through the silence, his eyes snapping to you as you sit down next to him. he takes another long drag from his cigarette as he watches you, uncertainty in your voice as you continue, "can you tell me about… me? and us?"

✹ no matter how much he thinks he should, he can't look away from your pleading gaze.

✹ "we… you're everything to me," simon mutters, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with the heel of his boot, "i've never felt the way i do with you before, you've helped me more than you could ever know…"

✹ his vision blurs with unshed tears. the sadness on your face starts and ache in his heart, the desire to take you into his arms and just hold you making his skin bristle.

✹ "you don't have to feel the same way, but…" he pulls the balaclava from his head, setting it on the bench in the space between you, bearing his face to you like he always does, "even if you never get your memory back, i'll always love you."

✹ the way you look at him makes it so incredibly difficult not to cry. your eyes are glassy and far away, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth with an expression that screams guilt – but it's not your fault, and he'd never blame you.

✹ you open your mouth to say something, but the words never materialise. the night stays silent, and simon expects it, but it still makes his bones ache with a heaviness that he knows he can't shake.

✹ he stands, picking up his balaclava, and walks quietly past you to the barracks door. there's no fleeting look, not this time. he disappears to his room without another word.

✹ he's not sure how much later it is when he hears a knock on his door. minutes, hours, it didn't matter. it all blends together now.

✹ when he doesn't bother to answer, whoever it is lets themselves in, shutting the door gently behind themselves. he sits up with the intention of chewing them out, but when he opens his eyes they land on your form, curled in on yourself and shuffling quickly over to him.

✹ you're here, in his room, with a face that looks like you've been crying for hours, puffy and tear-stained with bloodshot eyes.

✹ he almost thinks he's dreaming, but the warmth as you wrap your arms around him and bring his face to your chest is too real, too familiar. he brings his arms up  around your waist, releasing a shaky sigh into your skin as he squeezes you tighter against him.

✹ a few hot tears meet the top of his head as you whisper to him the words he's been waiting, longing to hear, rocking gently from side to side.

✹ "i remember, si."

✹ it feels like he can finally rest, like the state of being he's been living in for the last few months melts away with your touch and he feels safe again.

✹ with his grip around your waist, he hoists you onto his bed to lay back down with him, holding you tightly against his chest, your heart right beside his own racing one.

✹ you cradle his face again, pressing your lips to his face over and over, touching every inch of him with your love.

✹ "i'm sorry…" you whisper like a mantra, punctuating every kiss with an apology that makes his throat constrict with the raw emotion he feels. "i'm sorry,"

✹ "don't be…" he mirrors how you hold his face, tangling his legs with yours as he captures your mouth and pours every ounce of passion he has into the way he kisses you. "don't be, love."

[m00nsbaby]

Therapy.

(Marc Spector x F/Reader.) Warnings - Tags: Mentions of abuse, violence. Marc is kinda mean. (until he isn’t lol) Angst, but not that bad. Mentions of Steven. Word count: 960. Summary: The change was so sudden that you started to question if there was someone within it that you weren't counting on. That, or your best friend had been replaced with a highly unconvincing double. Because for exactly 4 months now, Marc Spector had been nothing but smiles.

You realized on an ordinary Thursday. Both of you were comically bumping into each other in Steven Grant's small kitchen, but he was two moves away from losing his patience.

You insisted on taking care of things yourself, and he refused, so stubborn that you had no other choice. Now, when your bodies collided and the plate in your hands went flying through the air, crashing loudly onto the floor, you stood there in complete silence, staring at him.

It was just a few seconds before your physical memory took over, expelling all the air from your lungs in a sigh. Here it comes.

You wondered what it would be this time. "I told you so" or "Look what you did," perhaps just a "Move" to get you out of the way and handle it himself without your interference.

"I'm so sorry." That's what came out of his mouth.

And you turned to him as if you had heard the filthiest word he could have uttered.

"Ah?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated as he bent down to pick up some of the broken pieces of the plate. Dark curls falling on his face as he squinted to locate every ceramic shard on the floor.

And that was your strangest interaction with Marc. Even after he talked to you about Khonshu, or about Steven.

Marc Spector has all those little and big points that people refer to when they ask you to promise to stay above everything else.

Sometimes it's the shouts. What was so striking about the whole situation with the plate was that you expected Marc to shout at you as he always did when he lost his patience, regurgitating the words his mother once said to him.

You had figured it out a long time ago, but you would never tell him what he was doing.

Other times, it's avoidance. Another thing you discovered over time is that Marc was engrossed in the idea of not allowing himself to feel any kind of affection for anyone. Not after Layla.

Romantic or not, he wouldn't allow himself to have his heart broken again. He couldn't bear the thought that someone would make him believe he wasn't as broken as he thought, only to prove him wrong.

Even after so many years together, his mind plays tricks on him. Sometimes he wakes up and decides that he no longer wants you in his life because the fact that you're his first thought upon waking up is terrifying. Or because he found himself smiling while responding to your silly 23rd message of the day, or because there isn't a spot in his house that isn't marked by you and how careless you are with your things.

So, he stops responding. He stops visiting. He stops existing. At first, it was worse, though. He disappeared enough to make you believe he was dead. Since then, the duration of these periods without him has decreased. The last time was just before this change, a week without any signs until he showed up at your door in the early hours of the morning with a bloodied t-shirt and a bruise on his eye.

The arguments, the alcoholism, that habit of blaming you because he can't stay away from you and accusing you of putting yourself in danger by being his friend as long as he continues to work with Khonshu, the number of times you've had to promise him that his alters are not more important to you than he is, the constant insecurity, his inability to communicate in a healthy way, and the fact that he never lets you use the blue plastic cup from his cupboard.

But you never wavered in your decision to stay. He never hurt your feelings; he just took care of filling a little jar inside you every time you realized how worried you should be about him.

And for the first time in years, you're seeing a favorable change in him that makes you feel good.

"You have to tell her, Marc." Steven's desperate voice echoes in his head, his own reflection doesn't look much better. Worry is imprinted on every part of his body.

That's what's been going on behind the scenes for the past 4 months.

"Why, huh?" Marc's aggressive tone is a good reminder that they are two different people, even though they share the same body. "So she can leave? Like Layla did, or like Mom did." The latter part is figurative; he was the one who left.

"She can help you."

"Steven." The mercenary runs his hand over his face a couple of times in despair. And it's not the other's fault for not seeing things his way. After all, even though they were as transparent as possible with each other, Steven would never know the emotional burden Marc carries. "Do you know how terrible it is to burden her with that responsibility? I don't want to drag her down with me."

And finally, the other falls silent. He understands.

Another gulp of his whiskey, and he's finished the bottle. "Well, I feel better." He thinks to himself now that the alcohol has clouded his mind enough to forget why he was crying in the first place.

That was his therapy, and it was proving to be quite fruitful from his perspective. Of course, on the days he wasn't with you, he would drink until he couldn't remember or until a burst of anger made him break a few things. Sometimes a lamp, sometimes his wrist from hitting the wall in an ill-proportioned strike.

But ever since he started lying to you, everything felt better in some way.

It was better until we reached exactly 5 months.

Only one thing had been treated suspiciously seriously with this radical change in Marc, and that was that visits were always scheduled. With a text message, a phone call. In fact, if you could send a carrier pigeon, Marc wouldn't even question why; he would just appreciate being informed that you were about to arrive at his apartment.

"Marc?" Your voice sounded on the other side of the door after two small knocks.

The bottle fell from his hands in a thunderous crash. His first reaction was to check his phone to make sure he hadn't missed any of your messages.

Nothing.

"I have Steven's book, the one he lent me." Somehow, your voice tensed his whole body, an anger he hadn't felt in... Well, not that long, maybe last week. "Can you let me in?"

No, he couldn't.

He felt like a mouse trapped in a glue trap; his feet wouldn't respond. How would he deal with your worried expression when you realized that tears were streaming down his cheeks and the smell of alcohol permeated his small apartment?

He chose not to open the door. He would stand there, waiting for you to leave.

Although the other occupant in his body disagreed, and he would let him know.

A few seconds later, and precisely the sight he didn't want was in front of him.

You, with your eyes fixed on him. Your brow furrowed and the small pout that formed on your lips whenever you felt worried.

Steven had given him the push. Although he almost vomited as he relived the sensation of the first few times they switched without realizing it, combined with the alcohol, of course.

"Marc?" You whispered his name for the fifth time, and his stomach churned even more.

"What are you doing here?"

"I told you, the book." You waved it in your hand without taking your eyes off Marc, who seemed seconds away from breaking down in tears.

"You didn't let me know." His voice cracked. "Leave."

Well, there was the Marc Spector you knew.

"Leave, go." He placed both hands on your shoulders, pushing you back enough to be able to close the door. And of course, the Moon Knight had skills, but being drunk wasn't much of a help.

It wasn't difficult for you to slip under his arm and enter the apartment again.

The slam of the door made you flinch, but once again, he would have to drag you himself if he wanted to keep you away from him at a time like this.

"Tell me what's wrong, Marc. Just tell me, I can help you."

"You can't!" Steven's look on the other side only irritated him further. He looked at him as if he believed Marc capable of hurting you, and surely he did. "You can't, you can't help me." His voice broke again, and the tears finally started to flow down his face.

You raised your hand slowly, intending to touch his cheek, but he took a step back.

With fear.

"I won't hurt you." That's all that came out of your mouth. /What's it like living to fight when every blow leads you to a traumatic memory that marked your entire life?/ You think as you see him so vulnerable.

Because Marc doesn't think about the damage Khonshu has caused to his body over and over again. He thinks about his mother's angry gaze and the burning pain of the blows full of contempt, which hurt a thousand times more than those from a stranger in battle.

He takes a step closer to you, just enough for you to rest a hand on his cheek, your thumb tracing his jawline as delicately as you can. His eyes close, and his head tilts to seek your touch.

"We're best friends, Marc." He furrows his brow at your words but keeps his eyes closed. "You can trust me."

"Don't leave." His voice is so soft that for a moment, you have to check if you're dealing with Steven. It's not difficult; Marc's body is always tense.

It breaks your heart to see how unstable he is when these things happen. In seconds, he changes his mind, and you don't know if it's just his brain or the alcohol in his system.

"Don't leave, please." He repeats with a sob.

"You have to tell me what's going on." You don't want to pressure him. You never have, but you have no way of comforting him if you don't know what's happening.

His arms slowly extend, encircling your waist as he holds you tightly against his body. He's begging for a hug, and you give it to him without hesitation, even though you feel the air escaping from your lungs as he tightens his grip.

Marc has a moment to realize how bad things are with you. His body is familiar to you; Steven's love language is physical—he hugs you, holds your hand, plays with your hair, and other things. But for Marc, your body is uncharted territory.

He doesn't know that his arms seem to be made for embracing you, or that your shampoo smells like honey and it's easy to catch a whiff of it by breaking the distance a little.

"You can't go." This time he whispers as his breathing seems to calm down. "Don't go, and I'll be fine."

It's a lie, and both of you know it.

Was it time to confront it?

"Marc, I can't." This time your voice comes out almost inaudible.

His arms tighten around you; he doesn't want to let you go. But you don't mean that.

"I can't end this." He hates how coherent you are. How stable. "I wish I could take away all your pain. Truly." For the first time, you feel his body relax as your fingers run through his messy curls. "But I can't stop this. You need to understand that."

He sniffles, and you wonder if he's still crying. He won't let you see his face while you're in his arms, but he nods.

"I couldn't wish for anything more than for you to be happy." His weight starts to wear you out, but you won't complain out loud. "I'm worried." It's good for him to hear it rather than having to decipher the expression he has memorized. "I'm so worried. You need help."

Marc nods again, and the hug starts to loosen.

"I love you."

This time, it's your body that tenses.

"What?"

"I love you." And for the first time in a long time, when Marc confesses his feelings, there are no tormenting memories behind him or ghosts from his past telling him, /You know what's going to happen./

Maybe this is a new memory. A good one, in some way.

"I've loved you since you broke my favorite mug." Marc tries to laugh; it's one of those times when you exhale loudly through your nose accompanied by a broken smile.

You remember it well. It was one of those times of "Look what you did." Never in a million years would you have imagined that your best friend would treasure that memory in his mind.

You finally lift your head; you want to confront him, but his lips are on yours before you can react.

Automatically, you close your eyes, savoring the taste of tequila and the mint of the stupid chewing gum he uses to calm his anxiety. Your fingers still in his curls, messing them up even more as he arches your back again with the force he uses to hold your waist in his arms.

"I love you," you mumble against his lips as best you can. It feels like lifting a thousand bricks off your back.

"It's too early," you complained against his chest. You could feel him scoff by the way your head moved. It made you laugh too. "Baby, it's already 12 PM," you could hear his smile as he spoke, and you hugged him closer to you. "No nightmares?" "Not at all. I dreamt about us having the cutest puppy ever," he said, marking three months without nightmares."I really have to get up." "What time is your appointment?" "It's in about three hours, so move," he laughed again as he finally pushed you out of his arms, making you complain one last time. "We should celebrate." There was no hint of joking in your voice, just a sincere smile as you watched him get up and search for his shirt somewhere on the floor. "One year in therapy is a big deal." "Do you think they make 'I'm glad you don't cry until you fall asleep anymore' cakes?" He pressed his lips together as he stared at you, trying not to laugh. "You are an idiot, you know that, right?" You were definitely going to bake that cake and decorate it with pink frosting while he wasn't at home. "Yes, I know." He leaned in a little, enough to rest his forehead against yours. "I love you." The words rolled off his tongue easily. It had been like that for a while now. "I love you," you whispered back, kissing his lips briefly. "Now move, or you're going to be late."

[eggnogisyummy]

For anyone that is curious, here is some info of my Redemption AU of the SAMS!

**NOTE: THIS IS A SAMS AU, NOT EVERYTHING IS GONNA BE CANNON**

*Basic Info: The redemptions first started between the time when Solar Flare was made and when Bloodmoon was supposed to die. It first started with KC, then Bloodmoon, until finally Eclipse(though he put up a fight about it first). Characters such as Solar, Jacko, Forkface and Ruin still came through time.

*Characters! (Oh boy 🥲)---------

Sun: Has anxiety and trust problems. He fully doesn't trust the ex Villians and hates it when he doesn't get info on what they're doing. He's in a relationship with Bloodmoon as well, not by force by any means but still has some trust issues with the twins.

Moon: A mix of the old Moon and the new Moon. They took KC out, though the memories stayed and the code had to sort of rebuild itself. Moon is sort of keeping tabs on everyone, though he keeps overworking himself and sometimes really snappy but he truly does care for his family. He has the star hidden somewhere and plans to use it to get rid of the creator.

Earth: Still the main therapist, Earth helps the Villians see the wrongs they have done and how they could make up for it in some way. She has a small therapy garden she likes to take care of.

Lunar: He helps Earth with the Therapy, sometimes giving his own advice, throwing in humor and/or just being the stress ball/plush(since y'know, hes still made of nano machines at this point). He also works in the theater.

KC: Basically the tired but loving dad. He works at a soup kitchen and takes care of Eclipse, Solar Flare and Bloodmoon. He visits the daycare every now and again, especially on Halloween since the kids love to see him on that day. He's trying to look for a partner through Tinder of course, and does SoundCloud rapping to pass the time. He's pretty decent and is taking lessons.

Eclipse: Still a bastard, he's the least nicest of everyone. He throws insults whenever he feels like it, but doesn't do any actual physical harm anymore. He refuses to go to therapy, but KC drags him to it anyway. He has his own body, but he can't upgrade it to make himself stronger since they don't want to risk Eclipse trying to kill them all again.

BM: Nano machine ADHD twins, they still hunger for meat and blood. However KC managed to get blood bags and raw meat from stores. If Bloodmoon stays good sometimes KC will even give him a really bad guy to kill. BM is currently dating Sun.

Solar Flare: SF is the youngest, and the favorite child since he knows when to mind his own business and not act like a lunatic. He's still growing as an AI, but he's better at recognizing emotions and feelings, like the feeling of trauma from when Eclipse tried to take him over and the hatered he has for Eclipse. He tried to find ways to hurt Eclipse, though usually he keeps himself from doing those things. Sometimes he just can't help it.

Solar: He's Solar. And not dead, since Ruin didn't get a chance to kill him.

Forkface: They dont have really any huge beef with anyone except for the Creator and Ruin. They're still mysterious and powerful, but still loveable. They are living happily with Ruin Monty and are getting married soon.

Ruin: He is under supervision almost 24/7 after he tried to kill all the creators. He almost succeeded, but Bloodmoon and Eclipse were able to stop the machine before it could kill off Solar's creator. Ruin is fine with being supervised and is willing to be redeemed, even if the process is slow.

Jack: Jack is Solar Flare's best friend since the two are both growing AIs(and bodyguards lol). He enjoys playing with Sun's cats and protecting his family. He hates Ruin with a passion and doesn't want anything to do with him.

Creator: Still the main Villian and a horrible father. Kidnapped Lunar once and literally everyone ganged up on him, especially KC. He's currently in hiding and everyone is hoping he stays like that and doesn't bother them again.

If you have any questions please feel free to ask! Thanks!

[jellycatchicken]

whc2

definitely tin-hatting here but what if the reason why hong kyung, park jihoon and choi hyunwook hung out was because (not because they are casual friends who hang out no no no!!!!!! *bangs head against wall*) during the shooting of the whc2 season, there is either a new flashback of a memory of the three of them pre-bully Beomseok, or we get a look into their lives post-bully Beomseok.

focussing on the latter:

a positive outcome could be suho in physical therapy or a negative outcome could be him obviously still in a coma- which seems more realistic.

for beomseok... now hear me out... a negative outcome could be he is genuinely dead in the philippines like his father promised (yikes but also a bit lol) which is slightly far-fetched and could've just been said in a fit of rage, or the positive outcome is that he is studying in some international school in the philippines.

here we go. so. and this is definitely not a selfish idea that is unrealistic because i want to see wet he was forced to eat concrete when he was 6 meow meow rat-hamster hybrid beomseok happy. no! haha. ha.

his father HAS sent someone to get rid of him. but! obviously a murder can't just happen in plain sight and in addition his father is an abusive scumbag with a sadistic assistant. so. they plot an assassin his age to be enrolled in his school, and sent to not just kill him but ruin. his. life. i'm talking makima reze style. they will befriend him and then boom break his heart then kill him, destroying him further in every single way.

but obviously this assassin has a character too, and they could be so effing interesting. it could be a lesson for both characters in forgiveness and guilt and boundaries, learning that some things are just inexcusable but doom-dwelling on them only invites one to make the same mistake again but mutated, worse- so don't forget but do forgive.

along the way, the assassin character falls for beomseok and vice versa, and they help each other. because yay smart fleshed out romance who doesn't like it.

now. the positive outcome for this could be in the end the assassin breaks free from that lifestyle, think mai from atla "i love zuko more than i fear you" and all is right in the whc world. the negative side could be that a) the assassin never falls in love with him and has been lying or b) they still go through with it because that is their job and they don't know how to refuse. tragedy.

obviously this is far-fetched and would be a crazy sub-plot to work into a story that presented beomseok as an antagonist (the audience might not gaf about it, i mean, would rather see suho or someone else have the story), but i think it's just a cool idea that would definitely be gripping if a writer expanded on it since beomseok is such a complex and interesting character.

[dirtyoldmanhole]

real dweeby navel gazing time

i think one of the reasons i am having genuinely, so much fun with this gunter slowburn fanfic despite sitting at a literal 53k words rn and with it probably being close to 90k all said and done, is it's ... writing the ship i see myself in the most by far on both sides.

like, ever.

this shit is the rawest most honest shit i've ever written.

i've talked a little bit about how corrin's memory wipe stuff is literally a 1:1 to my anesthesia/childhood surgery/physical therapy conga line of bullshit. even aside from the helpful textual 'here's how this works from a medical event standpoint' there's the 'here's the emotional scars that it will leave because yes it is a bodily/mind violation of a sense, over and over, and jesus all of this of this stuff goes so well thematically to the straight up fantasy bullshit of nohr with the underpinning of being hyper-aware to the themes of "power" "use" "what it takes to survive by emotionally dragging yourself through a minefield" etc. stuff i've been ruminating over since being conscious lol.

then my body's so whack from a physical joint perspective that there's also almost word for word conversations from gunter's side that i've had with my gf about how to navigate certian shit from a kink perspective but also like... how to maintain dignity when your body's kinda physically crapping out on you due to the march of time.... without loosing the sexytimes u know?

the concept of dignity in the face of being broken is a huge theme in this fic that gets echoed. very poignant for reasons you fates players know.

amusingly there's a scene near the end where corrin's helping him to shave after his stroke. (in one of fate's "clearly having a giggle at my expense" coincidences i've been in contact lately irl with somebody who's also gone through a stroke and man is it not easy) and it's this kind of perfect blend of she's helping him, technically, with something that could just be... god awful self loathing brainspace wise for him but it turns into this amazingly hot kink scene with some serious sizzling power exchange.

the dream, man!

there is a real thin line between being able to laugh at yourself *while* keeping that dignity to pointedly.... having to not look in the mirror some days. desire and shame being some real fucked up entangled wires too, in that sense.

the tumblr uwu approved discussions re: tricky medical/'my body is crapping out on me man and i can't hide it'/kink shit and having to be ~valid~ all the time gives me the hiiiiiveeeees man (and i'm not knocking it for other people, i know why it exists, but it sends my hackles up u feel).

and yet this fic still feels like, hot, in the fun sense.

there's enough fun whacko fantasy taboo elements in it that it doesn't feel .... oh no this ain't sexy this is Too Real, you feel, or too much like a trauma fic(tm)

there's the sexy yandere villain ossan (lol), corrin herself has one hell of a sex drive (and honestly that's yet another huge focus, that wish fufillment fantasy of this 'pure fragile princess chick that's fought over like a prize by everyone else' who gets to choose 'no i actually want the hot villain kthx'. she actually rants to him several times about being fought over and having everyone else from nohr/hoshido project all the shit on her.

(and him being all, I got you, I get it.)

he actually does!!!! that's the funniest darkest most ironic thing!! he's got that weird blend of being aware enough from a kink perspective and just 'went through enough shit' life perspective of why sometimes the most sacred, profound thing you can do for somebody is to break them when they ask for it. sometimes in the dark u just want the brain wires to go bzzt.

there is a weird as hell comraderie in the sense of facing very specific demons that only they have (which, again, hilariously, goes so well with the themes of revelation! invisible enemies/demons that only you two know about.)

and then i have like yet another essay in me about how literally every character i've RP'ed is a suspiciously similar to his whole... archetype.... like all of my RP partners have gravitated to playing the chicks in the het relationships and i've always RP'd the snarky older guy going through life snarking at shit and being a closet misanthrope (there's probably some presentation/gender-aligned stuff going there but this is already navel gazey as hell lol)

anyway

tl;dr i haz feelz

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 308: VIBE: CHECKED

Previously on BnHA: Lots and lots of Shindou idk what else to tell you.

Today on BnHA: Tired Nomad Deku rescues Shindou from Muscular, and us from Shindou. Muscular is all “OH BOY I SURE CAN’T WAIT TO FIGHT DEKU AGAIN AFTER HE TOTALLY KICKED MY ASS THE LAST TIME!! I’M SURE THIS TIME WILL GO DIFFERENTLY SEEING AS HE’S HAD ALMOST AN ENTIRE YEAR’S WORTH OF ADDITIONAL TRAINING, AND ALSO HAS SIX FOURQUIRKS NOW, IN ADDITION TO THE CONFIDENCE THAT COMES WITH HAVING EIGHT OTHER PEOPLE’S SOULS CHILLING OUT INSIDE HIM OFFERING MORAL SUPPORT AND ENCOURAGEMENT.” Deku is all, “[kicks Muscular’s ass effortlessly].” Muscular is all, “[gets his ass totally kicked].” I for one am very satisfied with this, and with respect to all, I would like to hereby declare this post a discourse-free zone. I’m just happy to see my son out here making good use of his FOURQUIRKS, and more importantly beating Muscular in less than seventeen pages so we can all go on with our lives lol.

damn Deku since when were you allowed to look this cool

from this perspective and with the smoke, cape, backpack, and mask more or less obscuring his actual profile, he looks less like a sixteen-year-old boy and more like a grownass man

OH SNAP

we got a glimpse of this in the cleaned-up scan of 307, but seeing both of his eyes looking so distinctively All Might-esque here is... whoa. I mean we know that his face still looks pretty normal underneath the mask and he doesn’t actually have the black sclera, but still, this is an awesome look. mini-Might

lol Muscular

you and me both. I mean no offense, but yeah

so Deku is just standing there silently

typical Deku. tight-lipped and expressionless. mum’s the word. quiet as a mouse. silent as a grave

okay no but seriously this is so weird and creepy though you guys. Deku please say something or else I’m just gonna mindlessly say whatever stupid things come into my head in an effort to make things less awkward

so Muscular is all “I should probably make a cool speech about revenge but Horikoshi couldn’t think of anything good so I’m just going to stand here clenching my fist real slowly”

“I’m not here to go on a monologue” he says, as he monologues about not monologuing

okay you guys I confess I have only read through/watched the Deku VS Muscular fight once because the arm-breaking is just way too uncomfortable for me to revisit. and so as a result, I have completely forgotten Whatever The Deal Is with Muscular’s eye lmao so let me go look it up real quick

okay so it’s a prosthetic, obviously, and he changes it out according to his mood. that part does sound familiar. I just can’t remember which eye is supposed to indicate which mood. don’t tell me I actually have to go back and reread this shit

lol I’m skimming through chapter 75 now and remembering/realizing that I hardly paid any attention to this the first time around because as soon as I found out the villains were after Kacchan my brain was like “TIME TO FOCUS ON THIS AND ONLY THIS NOW AND FOREVER” and yeah. ah memories

anyway so he started out with the flower-looking eye, and then later on he was all

which begs the question, how on earth could I have ever forgotten the most ridiculous panel I’ve ever read lmao

anyway, but so after all of that, I'm only just now realizing that this isn't one of his previous eye prosthetics in the current chapter; this is an ACTUAL FUCKING ROCK that he's just randomly shoved into his eye socket fkdsjlk

so basically (1) I did all of that painstaking research for nothing, five whole minutes of my life wasted THANKS A LOT, and (2) what, and I have never meant this more emphatically, THE FUCK

anyway so now he's leaping at the building that Deku is standing on top of. but he’s not aiming anywhere near Deku though, wtf

(ETA: HAHA YOU BROKE ALL YOUR MUSCLES YOU LOSER.)

...huh

lmao okay then. I hope those annoying citizens in the building next door are watching this go down and rethinking their life choices

dlkdkljk

just keep standing there pressed right up against the window, why don’t you. “WHAT’S GOING ON THIS SUPER CLOSE COLLAPSING BUILDING IS BLOCKING OUR VIEW.” well, folks, we’ve long since known there’s a critical shortage of hero and villain brain cells, but what we’re learning now is that civilian brain cells are also in short supply

OH THANK GOD DEKU IS FINALLY TALKING THAT WAS ACTUALLY UNSETTLING AS FUCK

SO HE’S STILL OUR GOOD, POLITE, WORRIED, CONSIDERATE DEKU UNDERNEATH THAT COOL AND MYSTERIOUS VENEER. for real, thank fuck, because I swear to god if he suddenly started acting like the Dekus in all of the vigilante AUs my interest in this series would have dropped something like 50% lol. just because he dropped out of school and ran away from home and is currently dressed like the physical manifestation of a Linkin Park playlist doesn’t mean he’s not still the WORLD’S BIGGEST DORK okay

I MEAN, THIS RIGHT HERE. THIS IS WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT. HE’S APOLOGIZING FOR THE DELAY

PLEASE FIND THE ATTACHED SHINDOU YOU REQUESTED. BEST REGARDS!!!

OH MY GOD WHY IS HE SUCH A BADASS

something about making bold, confident statements while obscured in smoke?? idk but damn it fucking works

ffjkkl

more importantly, should you tell him you actually need your copy of Shindou in excel format and not pdf?? on the one hand you don’t want to sound ungrateful, but on the other hand what are you even supposed to do with this

this chapter so far consists of like 50% smoke, but on the other hand Deku VS Kacchan 2 had a lot of cinematic smoke too so who am I to complain

OMG IS IT HIS ARMS

IDK DID YOU?! TELL ME YOUR SECRETS. PLEASE, AT SOME POINT THIS FIGHT HAS GOT TO ACTUALLY ADVANCE THE PLOT

OHHHHHHH

IT’S EN’S QUIRK!! OH MY GOD OKAY THAT’S ACTUALLY AWESOME

I CAN HEAR THE SOUND OF DISCOURSE RUMBLING IN THE BACKGROUND BUT I DON’T CARE LOL. WON’T CATCH ME EVER SAYING NO TO ANOTHER SIXQUIRK. GO AHEAD, BRING THEM ON, I WANT TO SEE THEM ALL but take it easy though Deku. don’t want to give yourself lung cancer or anything

also it’s good to see that in a very real sense he’s not fighting alone. the Vestiges really did mean it when they said they could appear more easily now. this is on a whole other level

so is this whole next page still En talking, or someone else? because whoever it is sure is chatty

okay, several things

pretty sure it is En, because he keeps saying “I suppose.” for someone who never said two words until one page ago, this guy sure never shuts up. we can’t all follow Muscular’s lead I suppose. oh my god now I’m doing it too

really like the suggestion of Deku using the SIXQUIRKS like tools in an arsenal, because that’s what he’s good at! it’s almost like he’s been training for this his entire life. “you value quirks too much” LOOK HE JUST THINKS THEY’RE COOL OKAY IS THAT A CRIME

where the fuck did all this rope come from

not gonna ask what the fuck that thing is sticking out from the back of his utility belt. Horikoshi will surely explain this

is that a fucking jetpack. I’m sorry Deku were six fucking quirks not enough for you. you can fucking float??? but JUST TO BE SAFE, LET’S STRAP A PAIR OF ROCKETS TO OUR SHOULDERS IDK

-- or wait, is this all supposed to be like a visual representation of En’s metaphor?? OH MY GOD AM I JUST STUPID LOL, DON’T ANSWER THAT. NEVER MIND. NEW LIST!!

rope = blackwhip

jetpack = float

radio = danger sense

and so I’m guessing that this ridiculously phallic thing is supposed to be a flare or something?? and that = the new quirk, smokescreen. well that was a fucking ride lmao we now return you to our regularly scheduled chapter

so now Deku is floating to his heart’s content and thinking that he’ll just sneak up on Muscular and vibe check his ass or whatever

WOOOOOOOO DANGER SENSE YESSSS I LOVE THIS FOR HIM

okay guys, I'm gonna press pause here for a sec to make a serious note, because I am loving the shit out of this, but tbh I'm having trouble enjoying it as much as I want to because I keep getting anxious thinking about the discourse. I know that a lot of the fandom has very strong opinions on Deku's character development one way or the other, and I want to respect that. but I also really have no spoons to debate this topic at all beyond what I’ve already weighed in on. so if it’s all the same to everyone, I plan on staying out of this discussion, at least this week

anyway! that said, YEAH BOI GET HIS ASS

VIBE: CHECKED. CURB: STOMPED. HOTEL: TRIVAGO

-- OF COURSE HE’S STILL FUCKING FINE LOL HE CRASHES INTO BUILDINGS FOR FUN IDK WHAT I WAS EXPECTING

dammit Muscular. how many fucking quirks does it take to beat you?! the annoying thing is that even with all of his cool new powers, Deku is still something of a mismatch against him. anyway r.i.p. to all these poor buildings

OOOOOHHHHH

you guys have no idea how intrigued I am at the prospect of watching Deku try to play both good cop and bad cop here lmao

anyway so Muscular says he doesn’t know, go figure

“I’m not here to make small talk or anything” he says as he small talks about not small talking

OH MY GOD DEKU

are you really gonna talk no jutsu all of these villains from now on?? that last battle really did have a profound impact on you, huh! interesting

you guys he’s really doing it omg

Deku this guy tried to murder a five-year-old literally just for fun. I mean more power to you, but holy shit you’re really gonna try to defeat Muscular with anger management therapy huh

I MEAN

WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THAT RESPONSE COMING dlkjslkjk

FUCK’S SAKE DEKU, I KNOW YOU MEAN WELL BUT THEY CAN’T ALL HAVE TRAGIC PASTS KIDDO

but. I have to admit, I do still like that he tried. probably knew just as well as we did what the end result was going to be, but still. he made the effort in good faith and I respect that

uh oh

why do I get the feeling Muscular just got a whole lot deader

oh my god oh my god he’s doing the “powering up” stance ffff don’t fucking tell me you can still use your fucking arms here, Deku

BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY WHAT’S THIS??

okay so basically he’s saying that whatever it was he sensed in Tomura, he doesn’t sense from Muscular. which, yeah, that sounds exactly right. good judge of character here lol

AHHHHAHAHA YESS

WHOOPS, GET FUCKED I GUESS

WOOOOHOOOOOOOO

lmao so apparently this is the belated result of Shindou’s attack from chapter 307?? I’ll be damned. good for you Shindou!! I always liked you buddy. please just take my word on that and don’t fact check that statement

okay lol the one tiny bit of discourse I will allow is that it’s bullshit that he just did that with his right arm. like, I’ll fully acknowledge that. that makes no fucking sense, and I demand an explanation from the Great Plot Hole Filler himself. he’s never let us down before when it comes to continuity so I’m trusting him not to suddenly start now

that said, we love to see a rematch against a boring guy settled quickly and decisively within the span of a single chapter. THANK YOU

I like that Deku implies that his power is being a smart nerd who battles villains using the power of ANALYTICS. he basically didn’t do anything except restrain Muscular and wait for Shindou’s attack to take effect while halfheartedly checking to see if he regretted any of that murder and stuff

(ETA: and almost forgot to mention, he made excellent use of all four of his active SIXQUIRKS. it’s like the chapter title said; this is basically him fighting all-out, and it’s a sight to see.)

also, as cool as the mask was, this just feels right. like, we had our fun, now let us see his face, yes good

anyway, I think this was a good start towards establishing What’s Up With Deku Right Now! so if it’s all the same to Horikoshi, I would next like to take some time to explore Why’s Up With Deku. that, and What’s Up With Everyone Else, Especially Kacchan. por favor

[sluttbuttsstuff]

La Squadra Backstory Headcanons Part 1 (GHIACCHIO AND MELONE

Since we’re probably never going to get any straight answers on their backstory, i’m writing my own for them.  Obviously, none of this is canon and guesswork

WARNINGS: none really, aside from dark themes 

GHIACCHIO:  

Came from a very large and very poor family, the youngest of many children.  

As a result, he was the last to get anything-last to get fed, last to get clothed, last to get attention.

He didn’t get the proper care he truly needed, so he had to fight and take what he really needed, or he would have to make do without.

He’s always had awful eyesight, but it wasn’t until stealing a classmate’s glasses that happened to be exactly what Ghiacchio needed, he fought the kid for them and gave him a black eye

“There, now you can’t even use them, they’re better off with me!”

Despite getting into a lot of fights, School was actually something of a sanctuary for Ghiaccio.  

He got the attention he needed, he was able to get free food through the lunch program, and excelled in several sports activities and physical Ed.

During middle school, under encouragement of a favorite teacher of his, he dedicated himself to his studies, and enrolled in as many extra curricular activities as he could stomach.

With his impressive physical fitness, natural intelligence, and a little anger management, his teacher convinced him he could get into a good college with a full scholarship that he wouldn’t otherwise be able to get into

Ghiacchio wasn’t always as loud, angry and violent as he was in La Squadra, but he did have issues with anger management, an inferiority complex, and a self-sabotaging need to always be right.  

But his teacher, now his mentor, never gave up on him.  He took Ghiaccio to therapy, gave him a shoulder to lean on, and served as the support he never got from his parents or siblings.

His family had no interest or desire to get involved with his life, or offer any support or encouragement.

School was tough- it was extremely stressful and he was pushing himself to his limits.  He had very little sleep, had to maintain a 4.0 grade average, but despite it all, Ghiacchio was very happy.

His mentor was like a father figure to him, without him, Ghiacchio wouldn’t have been able to get as far as he did.

And then the worst happened.

His mentor died naturally, of a heart attack, he was an older gentleman with a history of heart disease in his family.

It still broke Ghiaccio.

He skipped school for the first time in years to attend his funeral, and ended up getting in a fight with one of his teachers at school the next day.

Ghiacchio and his teacher argued over the correct pronunciation of a word, but really Ghiacchio was angry at his teachers and school-hell, the WORLD- that no one else had been at his mentor’s funeral.  He felt like no one cared about his mentor, and that included him.  

He broke the teacher’s nose, as well as several other bruises and nearly gave him a concussion.

Obviously, he was expelled from school after that, and sent to a juvenile prison.  He was able to finish high school in juvie, but no university or sports team wanted to sponsor him or offer him a scholarship. 

 It is his greatest regret, not being able to get the scholarship he and his mentor worked so hard for

But at the same time, he doesn’t regret attacking his other teacher and leaving school; he couldn’t stand by and let his mentor’s memory be forgotten, besmirched.

He would be picked up by Passione through the juvie system, he kept getting into petty fights with others and managed to impress some soldatos into offering him initiation.

I like to think that his strict grammar pet peeve stems from his mentor, who taught italian grammar and literature studies, and as a result was especially strict with teaching Ghiacchio proper italian.

The ice theme for his stand?  Yeah, it’s funny because he’s a hot head, but i think it’s his stand, as an extension of his mentor’s teachings trying to literally “Cool” him down.  He has to use a lot of focus to use White Album properly, just like how his studies and athletics would distract him from his own mental health issues.

At least, this is just what I think lol

MELONE:

Hoo-boy, this kiddo has to have had some serious  family issues

His father was the head doctor at the most prestigious fertility clinic in Italy

(He was also secretly into eugenics, and lots of other nasty stuff, but let’s get into that later)

He was so successful, he had even cured his own wife’s infertility

At least, that’s what he had everyone believe

Secretly, Melone’s father had had an extramarital affair with his secretary, who became pregnant and had Melone.

Under extreme threats and blackmail, Melone’s father managed to take Melone away from his biological mother, and convince his wife to raise Melone as her own.

Needless to say, Melone’s father was a very bad, manipulative man

Despite this, his wife had always wanted a child, and actually loved him and cared for him deeply, and Melone became her child as much as his biological mother

Melone’s father was very strict and had high expectations of Melone from a young age.

Melone had private tutors, a personal chef and nutrition plan, and even a physical fitness teacher who would regularly exercise him.

Melone had no other siblings, surprisingly, despite his father’s obsession with eugenics and breeding.  

His father must have been afraid of the possible scandal that would arise from an affair or divorce (italy is still a heavily catholic country after all) and his wife, Melone’s “adoptive” mother was still barren,

Since Melone was an only child, home schooled and surrounded by paid lackeys of his father, he was very lonely.  

His mother was his one and only real friend in his life.  She would sneak him dessert snacks, read him fairytale stories if he got tired of his textbooks, and even played games like jump rope and hide and seek with him.

The entire reason his “Adoptive” mother had married his father in the first place was because it had been her lifelong dream to have children, and she was determined to give Melone all the love his father couldn’t and wouldn’t.

And that was life for a long time- it wasn’t the best childhood but Melone couldn’t really complain.  His father kind of scared him, but at the same time he earned Melone’s respect.  

Melone was interested in Biology, and learning about genetics like his father.

And when the stress of living up to his father, and his own, expectations became too hard, he could always run to his mother.

Then, Melone’s biological mother found him

Melone’s biological mother had never really gotten over losing her only child, and despite the monthly salary and isolated home she had received for her silence, she couldn’t forget about Melone.  

It started innocuously enough, clipping out pictures she saw of him and his father from the clinic’s advertisement brochures, watching him from afar play at the beach with his mother on vacation.  

But it wasn’t enough- she couldn’t just GIVE UP her child.

She started to stalk him, taking photos of him playing in his backyard, going through the garbage to find old school projects and tests in the trash can.  She would try to sneak into the house, bribing guards and getting in fights with the tutors trying to get into Melone’s home.  

Melone didn’t know the whole story between his parents and this “Surrogate” (he had been sworn to secrecy by his mother, knowing it was important to tell adopted children early on or risk causing severe trauma later in life)  but he knew his parents were becoming more and more stressed out.

One day, it came to a head, and Melone’s biological mother successfully was able to meet Melone.  

Melone was a little afraid at first, but his other mommy was so nice to him, and gave him lots of hugs and love like his other mom and played with him at the park.  

They actually had a really fun time together, and it had a lasting impact on Melone for the rest of his life.

But all good things have to end, and for the first time in his young life, Melone was confronted with death.  

Eventually, Melone’s bodyguards (his father had employed some after finding out about Melone's biological mother stalking him) caught up to them, and Melone and his mother tried to escape.  

Melone’s other mother was with the bodyguards,and when Melone saw her, he was unsure of what to do.

He loved both of his mothers, he wanted to stay with both of them, why were they making him choose?

Under His father’s orders The bodyguards, who Melone later found out were associated with passione, shot his biological mother.  Terrified Melone would be shot as well, his adoptive mother dove in front of him to protect him from the bullets.

Both of his mothers were shot, his father had ordered them to kill the bio mother no matter what, even if Melone got shot.  Apparently, MElone’s father would rather risk his son’s life than let his bio mother escape with them and risk the scandal.  Knowing this, his adoptive mother was shot and killed protecting him.  

On that day, Melone lost both of his mothers, the most important people in his life, all because of his father.  

It took a long time for Melone to process what happened-his father didn’t help things either.  He was just as cold and clinical with Melone as ever, and with no one who truly cared about him in his life, Melone withdrew more and more into himself and his studies.

He was civil with his father, and maintained his studies and health, until he officially turned 18.  

After years of planning, he poisoned his father in his sleep and killed him.

The Police were never able to press charges or find any evidence on him, but Passione noticed, and saw potential in him.  

They gave him an ultimatum, pass initiation and join their ranks, or get turned into the police by passione and get his inheritance stolen by the gang.

Without much of a choice, Melone agrees, and finds he actually likes life in la squadra

It goes without saying, his mothers were a huge influence in both his life and his stand.

Both of his mother’s lives were so sad and lonely because they couldn’t have a child.  

He desperately wishes he could have used Baby Face on his mothers, either not realizing or not caring about the implications.

Despite his mother’s best efforts, Melone never really had proper social interaction as a child, and it seriously screwed him over in life, even interacting with la squadra. 

 He’s read up on how to behave in public, social psychology, but it's not the same as learning as a child

It’s easier to learn those things as a child, which is why he makes sure to spend at least a little time with each Baby Face on how to behave and treat others; at least they can succeed where he couldn’t.

It’s also why he can’t control himself around women- he thinks he’s genuinely helping them by giving them children or getting them pregnant.

He’s giving them what his own mothers couldn’t

And you can BET he takes his role as father VERY seriously- you saw how he taught and trained Baby Face in canon.  He’s intense, but he’s also a lot more loving than his own dad was.

I’ll admit, this backstory is a little bit “Soap Opera” but I think it still fits him

[softtransbf]

Mister Nice Guy, part 2

part one

Summary: Shit hits the fan, and the rest of the BAU is done with it.

Word Count: 3523

Reader: he/him trans man, no physical description

Warnings: case involving targeting gay people, brief mention of a child abduction case, coming out/anxiety of experiencing transphobia (no actual transphobia though), alcohol, swearing

@aleccolocco (sorry it took so long to finish lol)

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

"No, that doesn't make any sense at all, doctor!" you spat his title. "He's not jealous of these couples, killing what he can't have, or a homophobe, punishing gay people for being happy. He's putting an end to their unhappy relationships. He sees it as mercy." Over the months, your cold war with Reid turned into outright conflict, and tonight, alone in the police station in Oregon, was no exception. Hotchner had tasked the two of you with presenting the preliminary profile the next morning, and it was going as well as conversations ever went.

"We have no evidence that he knows they're unhappy, though. All of his victims are clearly happy in their relationships," Reid challenged.

You rolled your eyes and scoffed. "Please. One look at their social media and it's obvious that the relationships are on the rocks."

"Where do you get that? All I see are typical happy relationships. Selfies, checking into special events together, posts about kind things one does for the other. Nothing indicating a troubled relationship to me."

"The gentlemen doth protest too much. They're painting an overly happy painting on social media, hoping that some of that happiness will actually become real. They're desperate for the relationship to work."

"Let's say you're right. I don't think you are, but let's pretend for the sake of trying to see your logic through. Why? Why would they be so desperate to save a failing relationship?"

"God, straight men just don't fucking get it!" You went to grab a file, missing his small flinch. "You don't understand how limited the dating pool for men who are into men is. Look at the most recent couple in particular. The most lovey-dovey on social media, and got the most brutal deaths."

"Yes, because they were the happiest. My theory holds," Reid interrupted.

"No. Look, this guy put way more out there on social media than his partner, and look at the pictures he posted. Look how forced his smile is, look at the body language. He needs this relationship to work, because dating as a gay man is one thing, dating as a gay trans man is almost impossible. Having to start over and deal with transphobia over and over again is worse than being in a bad relationship. In his eyes, I mean." Shit, the first person I come out to on this team cannot be Spencer fucking Reid. He doesn't deserve the honor.

"That was yesterday. We haven't gotten the autopsy report yet. How could you possibly know that he's trans?"

"Testosterone vials and needles in the bathroom. Neither of them are old enough for a cis man to reasonably have issues that require testosterone injections. It's HRT, hormone replacement therapy."

"Even if you're right, your conclusion still seems like a much bigger jump than mine, that the killer sees the relationships as happy and is lashing out at that, be it from jealousy or homophobia."

"Whatever. You'll see tomorrow, when we talk to the M.E., that he was trans, and that fact backs me up. I am absolutely right about this, and you will eat your words. Then I will present my theory, and you can choke on yours."

"We? You anticipate us spending more time together?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I meant 'we' as in the team, asshat. The world doesn't revolve around you. Mine sure as hell doesn't. I'm gonna go back to the hotel, write my own damn preliminary profile, and try to get some fucking sleep. Clearly we won't agree on this."

"We don't ever agree on anything," he pointed out.

"Not true. We agree that we dislike each other and can't get along. Good night, doctor." You turned and walked away, not giving him a chance to respond.

This man is going to be the death of me, he thought as he watched you walk away.

~

The autopsy report came in the next day, and you were right. The tech team also found a locked notes app on his phone that catalogued his unhappiness and fear of leaving. You presented your preliminary profile to the team. Reid didn't even argue; he just sat in silence, leaving the room as soon as you were finished. Never one to pass up a chance to gloat for beating him, you offered to get coffee for the team, got everyone's order, and left shortly behind him.

You were expecting to catch up to him, his impossibly long legs be damned. You weren't expecting him to be waiting for you. He pulled you into an empty interrogation room and pushed you up against a wall, his face just inches from yours. It was only a moment before being flustered by the closeness and those goddamn eyes were replaced by anger.

"What the FUCK, Reid?"

"What game are you playing, Y/N? What game are we playing? What's your endgame?" He spoke quickly and softly, but there was an intensity in his voice that had you captivated.

"I'm the one playing games?" You pushed him back, away from you. "You're the one who decided to hate me before we even met. When I transferred, all I wanted was to do a good job and fit in with the team. But quite literally from the minute I walked through the door, you'd decided you hate me. Turnabout is just fair play, gorgeous." Oh, fuck.

"Gorgeous?" You walked past him to the other side of the room, running a hand through your hair and turning your back on him. "Fine. Yeah, okay? I wanted approval from the brilliant and handsome Doctor Spencer Reid. In a way that's respectful of your heterosexuality, of course." You turned around and faced him again. "But that doesn't matter, because you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me right off the bat."

"What makes you think I'm straight?" He's fucking with me, now that that cat is out of the bag. Great. Fucking cishet men. Even he's no different. Thank god he still thinks I'm cis.

"Garcia mentioned in her newbie-run-down that you're 'awkward, but in a cute way, especially around women'. Plus, she mentioned that Emily is bi, leaving everyone else implied straight as even the best cishet allies are wont to do. And as we both know, Penelope knows everything.

And before you make the hearsay argument I can see forming in that brilliant head of yours, I've heard and seen too much about your impeccable memory to assume you don't remember when we all went to the bar after my first case. I was unabashedly Queer, friendly flirting with Derek and calling out cishet bullshit. When I did the latter, you literally rolled your eyes and walked away. Which is, funnily enough, some cishet bullshit. 

JJ said you were just going through a thing and things would get better, but they just got worse. I'm not going to ask you to spill whatever was going on, because it's not my business, but god damn, dude. Why did you hate me so much so quickly?"

"You asked JJ about me?" He took a few steps towards you, a small smile on his face.

"That's the part you focused on? Jesus fucking Christ. Yes, I asked her about why you decided to hate me before we even met. Whatever. I hope you got whatever you were looking for by pulling me in here. I'm done. Done with this conversation, done with whatever has been going on with you and us since the day I transferred." You turned to leave, but he grabbed your arm. It was barely more than a light touch, but you let it stop you.

"Y/N. I can't-" he sighed. "God, you make my head spin. I can't organize my thoughts enough to say what I want to. JJ was right, there was something I had to work through, and I guess you'd made up your mind about me before I figured it out. It isn't an excuse for how I treated you, just an explanation. As for the more recent development of arguments… I guess I read a subtext that wasn't there. I could never dislike you, let alone hate you. I am truly sorry for- for all of it." With three long strides, he was out the door.

Make his head spin? What subtext? Since when is he unable to say what's on his mind? And what was that about not disliking me? All we've done since we met is argue or ignore each other. Why else would he act like that? Why do I even care? Why am I so knotted up about what he's thinking and feeling? Whatever. Fuck him, and not in the fun way. I've gotta go get coffee for the team. As you were getting the coffee, you couldn't get the memory of his face, so close to yours, to stop playing in your head.

The rest of the case was mostly as normal, but there was an energy between you and Spencer that was distant like when you joined the team, but there was something else to it that you couldn't quite put your finger on. It made you a little bit sad, though, for reasons you didn't understand.

~

"I love you, Y/N. I love you so much. I pulled away from you because it terrified me how much I loved you from the moment you walked through the door that first day. Being around you, even when we were arguing, made me feel alive in a way I never had before. You're all I think about, you're all I could ever want. I love you."

"I… I love you too." You didn't know which one of you moved, maybe you both did, but in an instant, you were kissing Spencer Reid, and you couldn't have been happier.

-

You woke up with a start, breathing heavily. You looked around; you were in your room, home alone, and it was 3:37 am. What the hell was that?

Four hours later, you trudged through the door of the BAU office, venti red-eye in hand. You made it about ten steps before Derek had his arm around your shoulders.

"Whoa there, hot stuff. Rough night?" You tried to shake him off, but he wouldn't budge, so you just kept walking, making him go with you towards your desk.

"So not your business, Derek. You being open with your personal life doesn't mean we all have to be open like that with ours."

"Personal life, huh? So who is he? More importantly, how was he, and should we expect more mornings like this in the future?" You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him away. You'd reached your desk, so you sat on top of it, facing him. As you did, you made eye contact with Spencer, who was well within earshot. His face was unreadable, and you weren't sure why him hearing Morgan tease you like that upset you. It never had before.

"No, Derek. There's no one. Just some nightmares. Nothing major; I'll be fine by tomorrow." You got off your desk, sat in your chair, and logged into your laptop. Derek whistled and walked away without another word, shaking his head.

You tried to focus on the paperwork you needed to get done, but you couldn't stop thinking about that dream. The feeling of his lips on yours… it felt so real.

This is ridiculous. Love? We don't even like each other. Well… there was the stuff he was saying yesterday- 'I could never dislike you, let alone hate you', and some sort of subtext? But not disliking someone is a far cry from love. Plus, he's straight, so this is all absurd. And even if he DID have feelings for me, I sure as hell don't return them. I mean, maybe he's not as awful as I've thought, especially if he wasn't coming from a place of dislike. And he really is very pretty. Those eyes… Wait, what the fuck? This is all fucking ridiculous. I just need to get a full night's sleep tomorrow, and all this weirdness will be gone.

You took a giant gulp of your coffee, shook your head, and ran your fingers through your hair. Fortunately, Hotchner called a team meeting, forcing your attention to other things.

While no case could ever be described as 'normal', this case was pretty cut and dry, once you figured out what you were looking for. No dramatic twist, no tense showdown at his arrest. There weren't many cases like that, but you were very glad that this one was. You never sleep well when on a case, and no matter what you did, you couldn't shake that dream, the butterflies it left in your stomach every time you looked at him, and the strange disappointment when, unlike before that moment in Oregon, he wasn't looking at you.

Two more weeks passed. The energy between you and Spencer, whatever force it was that had drawn you together to argue again and again, was gone. You were polite to each other, and cooperated as necessary, but didn't do more than the bare minimum when it came to interacting with each other. Your interactions were cold and low-spirited. So you were so glad for a fun night out with Penelope, Emily, and JJ.

"So, Y/N, things seem… different… between you and Spencer these days. Did something happen?" Emily's tone made it clear that the three of them had intended to bring this up long before the plan to get drinks was even made. "I appreciate y'all waiting until I had a couple of drinks in me at least before going here. I guess we just got tired of fighting? I don't know. I can't figure out what's going on in that brilliant head of his. I thought I at least knew where I stood with him, even though it was purely adversarial, but I think I was wrong. But then that leaves me with no idea what he thinks of me or why I care so damn much."

"Really? No idea at all?" JJ asked. "I remember walking by a closed door in the police station in Oregon and hearing the word 'gorgeous' being thrown around." "Oh my god. You heard that?" You buried your face in your hands, and they all laughed.

"Yeah, I did, but only that one word. I'd figured you were on the phone with someone, but then you and Spence both started acting sad. I wasn't sure, of course, that you were talking to him until just now."

"Fuck. Okay, yeah. I think he's pretty. But I'm absolutely not alone in that. Derek calls him Pretty Boy, for goodness' sake. Appreciating someone's beauty doesn't have to mean anything more."

"Y/N, really? After everything we've been through together, you're gonna lie to us like this? Whatever happened, you've both been miserable since, and it's throwing the whole team off balance."

"What do you want me to say, Penelope? That I'm in love with him? He's pretentious and a know-it-all and a nerd and funny and kind and gorgeous and oh my God. I think I'm in love with him." The three women clapped and cheered.

"Finally, you get there! Took you long enough." Emily winked. "So, what's the plan now?"

"Keep this shit between us until my feelings go away. Even if he wasn't straight, I wouldn't risk fucking things up by telling him how I felt. As it is, I stand no chance in hell, so I'm just gonna write this one off as another straight guy I've fallen for and try to move on."

"Y/N, if you tell him-" Penelope started.

"No. You, more than anyone, know why I can't even entertain the idea of trying to be with him. I can't set myself up for that kind of pain. Not here, not where things are so good." You looked at all three of them. "I know that your intentions were good, but I just can't do this. I'm sorry." You grabbed your coat and left.

Your interactions with Spencer changed yet again. Now that you knew you loved him, you couldn't help yourself from being warmer towards him. As the weeks passed, you got closer. After three weeks, you considered him to be a good friend, not that that made things any less painful. You were just hoping that Penelope, Emily, and JJ were going to respect your wishes and drop the subject of your feelings for him.

[From: Penelope]: round table room ASAP

Shit. The last time you'd gotten that text from Penelope, the team left on a serial child abduction case 30 minutes later. So, despite it being your day off, you ran out the door and were there with your go bag in 15 minutes.

But no one else was there. No files on the table, nothing to indicate that there was a new case. You pulled out your phone to call Penelope, but then you heard a commotion outside the door- you'd closed it behind you.

"No, Derek, wait, I don't-"

"Can it, Pretty Boy, and thank me later." Derek opened the door, pushed Spencer into the room, winked at you, and shut the door, all in about 3 seconds.

"Spencer. Um, hi. Is the rest of the team not going to join us? Garcia's text seemed pretty urgent." You tucked your phone into your pocket.

"I don't think so, since I just heard Morgan barricade the door." He tried to open the door and failed.

"Oh my god they're Parent Trapping us. I'm gonna kill them."

Spencer tilted his head, confused. "Parent Trapping?"

"Oh my god have you not seen any of the Parent Trap movies? Were you living under a rock in 1998?" "I was seventeen and working on my first doctorate, so pretty much, yeah," he laughed. You couldn't help but laugh, too, as you firmly ignored how his smile made you absolutely melt.

"Fair enough. The '61 one is good too, but the '98 Lindsay Lohan one is Iconic for good reason. Anyway. The point is, they've locked us in here and won't let us out until we have a conversation."

"Just a conversation? Or do they want us to talk about something in particular?" He took a seat at the table.

"I- yeah, they have a particular topic in mind. I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I was tipsy and said things I should have just kept to myself. I thought they'd respected my wishes and left well enough alone, but clearly they didn't. And they won't let us out of here until I tell you-" you hesitated.

"Tell me what?" He leaned forward, and part of you swore you saw hope in his beautiful brown eyes. You looked at the floor, avoiding them.

"Tell you that I… have feelings for you. Romantic, cheesy, butterflies-in-my-stomach feelings. I don't know why they want me to tell you this. We've just gotten to a good place as friends, and you're straight, and-"

Somehow you missed the sound of him getting up and taking the few steps over to you, because you practically jumped out of your skin when his hands were suddenly on your shoulders.

"Y/N. Please, darling, look at me?" Bewildered by the endearment, you did, and his smile was blinding. "I'm not straight. I'm bi, and I think part of me has been in love with you since your first day at the BAU. The thing JJ said I was working through? The potential problems of having feelings for a coworker. For you. As soon as you walked through that door", he pointed and then took both your hands in his, "I loved you. The night at the bar? I was rolling my eyes at myself for how much I wanted to kiss you, and I walked away to stop myself from doing something reckless. I love you, Y/N. Can I do something reckless?"

"I'm trans," you blurted. "I hope that doesn't change anything, but it's something you should know. If knowing that I'm trans changes things, now is the time for you to say something. If it's a problem and it blows up later, it might actually kill me. Because I love you, too. So much. If it doesn't change anything, then please, Spencer, kiss me."

The words were barely out of your mouth before his lips were on yours. You weren't sure how long you were kissing before you were interrupted by cheers from the other side of the door. "Shit, Spencer, they're going to be the worst about this, aren't they?" You were a bit embarrassed by how breathy your voice was, but you were too happy to really care.

"Oh yeah. We're not going to get a moment that's just us in this building ever again. Do you want to get it over with and face them, or would you prefer we stay in this moment a bit longer?"

"What do you think, doctor?" you asked, pulling him in for another kiss.

[honeypirate]

Just In Case part two

Part one here

The awakening

(Lol that’s kinda dramatic)

Bakugou x fem reader married pro hero au

The first paragraph is kind of a spoiler for season five ep one.

Anyway!! I hope you like this!! I hate angst with not a good ending so I had to make it a good ending with family fluff.

(You went to the hospital as a hero so he uses your hero name at the receptionist)

Kirishima feels like he’s in school again as he races his car from the office down to the hospital except this time Bakugou was in the passenger seat instead of on the hood.

“Can you go any faster? Fuck” bakugou grumbled and kiri laughed once “I’m going seventy in a 45 I think I’m at the limit. Plus we’re here” before he can even stop the car, Bakugou is slamming the door and running. “Lightseeker?” He’s asking the receptionist who seems a little star struck “come on!” He shouts and slaps the counter making her jump. “DynaMight” recovery girl says from the doorway and he’s never moved this fast before in his life.

“What happened? They told me she was gone” his voice is angry, he’s pissed. He’s never been this god damn angry before in his life. They said she was dead but she’s alive! These goddamn doctors don’t know shit apparently.

“We don’t know. She was dead. She was gone. They were about to take her to the morgue but her body lit up with electricity and then she was breathing and alive and screaming for you. We just got out of surgery and she should still be under anesthesia until the morning.”

(Flashback)

The first responders get there and bakugou checks out, they order him to move rubble or move other things and he helps how he can moving immediately. They free your body, one first responder had her hands on your face the whole time already healing what she could and pulling your body back together as the heavy piece of building was levitated away.

He followed behind them and sat by you in the ambulance, quiet and in shock as he numbly watched them work over you. He watched, like an out of body experience, as you flatlined. Watched as they tried to resuscitate you. Watched as the woman’s hands fell from your body and watched as her mouth moved calling the time of death.

He stared at your face the rest of the ride, ingraining your face in his memory. Trying to grasp the fact that he will never see you smile again, never hear your voice, never experience parenthood with you.

That’s what breaks him. Thinking of the half painted pastel green room, flashing back to finding you laying in the middle of the room unsure of the color again (the fourth color you’ve painted it) he laid beside you and you talked about colors and baby names for hours looking around the small room and imagining your future.

He had quiet tears going down his cheeks and he’s only semi aware of the woman handing him a card to the hospital morgue and their grief therapist before the police chief is there wanting a statement.

(Back to present)

He looks through the room window, watching you breathe with the help of a breathing tube. Your right arm was in a cast and your chest was bandaged under your hospital gown.

He was scared, terrified the moment he walks through that door he’d wake up and this would be a dream, you’d be gone.

Recovery girl has gone and he’s by himself but he still can’t go in there. “Hey man” Kirishima says softly “what happened?”

“She came back. They don’t know how”

Kirishima takes in Bakugous state, noticing the worry in his eyes and how he seems frozen to his spot. He decides to take the lead. “Hey y/n” Kirishima says gently as he walks into the room, Bakugou feels panic and follows him quickly.

“I’m glad you’re back. I don’t know how I could have lived without your caramel cake and your sense of humor. No one can put Bakugou here in his place like you could. He’d be insufferable without you so truly from the bottom of my heart, thank you”

Bakugou glares at him, but is grateful for him taking the lead and helping him through his fear.

“Hey pretty girl” Bakugou says and takes your hand, Kirishima smiles softly and pats his shoulder as he leaves the room.

“You scared the fuck outta me” he said, tears filling his eyes again as he sits in the chair beside the bed. “Never do that again” his voice cracks and he drops his head to the bed next to your left hand which he has clasped between his. Hot tears falling to the crappy hospital blanket that scratches his face. He was so broken, so terribly ripped to shreds when he thought you were dead. And to have himself be ripped to shreds and then tell him you’re alive? Fuck it hurt. He cried harder than he ever had from the pain of losing you to get you back, he didn’t know how to handle the whiplash of emotion.

At some point he must have fallen asleep because he woke up to the sensation of you running your fingers through his hair. His head shot up and the moment he’s looking into your eyes he’s crying again, his eyebrows knit as tears spill from his eyes “you dumbass” he mutters with a thick tongue and you chuckle “don’t cry sweetheart” you say softly and brush his tears away with your left hand, not moving more than that. “I’m right here” you whisper, your eyes filling with tears.

He stands and leans over, pressing his forehead into yours. “Please” he whispers. Not really sure what he’s asking, just knowing he needs you to be with him longer. “I’m here. I’m with you. Right here” you say and press your lips to his in a little peck causing his breath to hitch.

When he relaxes and sits back down, his hand never leaving yours, you tell him your experience.

“I woke up a little while ago as the doctors removed my breathing tube and I made them be quiet so they wouldn’t wake you” he chuckles gently, everything still feeling so fragile, “always thinking of me” he says and reaches out, brushing your cheek softly and you lean into his touch

“I remember what happened” you whisper and he raises his eyebrows “when you died?” He asks in a whisper and you nod “do you wanna talk about it?” He asks gently and you sigh softly

“I was floating in the darkness. I was wondering where you were. I wanted you. All of my favorite memories of you and I together filled that darkness. I saw what our future will be like” you close your eyes as tears start to fall “it was so beautiful. Our family” he feels tears prick his eyes as you talk and his hand tightens around yours.

You look into his eyes and smile “I don’t know if it was real. But she looked just like you, Katsuki. Crazy blonde hair and she had a quirk where one hand is explosions and the other was electricity. She was funny and sweet and she had my eyes” he smiles softly imagining the child “she ran to me and placed her palm against my chest and used her electricity and then I was here”

He lays his cheek against your thigh facing you and closes his eyes “I don’t know if it’s real or just a dream” he says softly “but I’m grateful to whoever it was who gave you back to me”

(Skippy skip)

He’s been so much more open with his feelings after that day and it’s been amazing. You two had gone to couples therapy just to help guide you both through that process and it brought you both closer together.

Healing was bitch. Physical therapy was a bigger bitch. But Bakugou was there every step of the way in your recovery. You’ve never seen him more attentive since you were dating. He got home from his patrol and wrapped his arms around your middle as you cooked dinner “I missed you today. The office is so empty without you” he mumbles against your neck and you smile, reaching up and cupping his cheek “I’ll be back soon” you say and turn in his arms “buuut maybe not that soon” you say with a knowing smirk and he raises his eyebrows “what do you mean?” You pull the stick out of your pocket and hand it to him

He’s quiet for a moment, looking down at the capped pregnancy test in his palm and at the pink line that confirmed his dreams “is this..” he looks up to you and you see the tears in his eyes “we’re gonna have a baby, Katsuki”

(Skippy skip)

He opens the room to the doctors office panting “sorry 'm late” he says as he takes his spot next to you in the bed, your hand taking his and squeezing it. “Right on time” excitement fills your voice and he kisses the top of your head. “I see the feet here” the doctor points out and types into the computer “and here’s the hands… and here is the little face” your eyes are hooked on the screen, so enamored by seeing your little one in your tummy. You hear a sniff and look up to see bakugou crying and it makes your heart swell “and here it is..” she turns to you “do you wanna know the sex?” You and bakugou both say yes at the same time and she laughs “it’s a girl”

(Skippy skip)

You hear an explosion in your house and panic, running to check on your daughter. You bust through her door and find her holding a busted and charred plastic dinosaur. “Sweetie what happened?” You kneel in front of her and she laughs “he was going to eat my Barbie and I had to save her”

Later that evening when Bakugou is sitting down with her explaining her quirk and his, that’s when the electricity manifested and she shot a bolt at your tv making it explode. You stared for a moment then looked at Bakugou both busting up laughing before helping her with ways to control it.

Later that night

“It’s real” you say as you cuddle into his side “it’s her” he hums and holds you close “she brought me back” he fights back tears “my precious girls” he says softly.

[ultimatebethylficlist]

Veteran Author of The Month: June 2021

The featured veteran author for June is also a co-admin right here at UBFL: SquishyCool (or @im-immortal )!

SquishyCool can be found on AO3 and FFN under the same penname.

When asked what got her into Bethyl and what the fandom means to her, she said:

I’ve been a hardcore TWD fan since the show began airing, but that’s because of my love for zombies. In all honesty, I didn’t really ship anyone for the first 3-4 seasons. I kind of shipped Daryl with Carol, but then it became clear that it was a platonic relationship and in all honesty, I just wanted to see them both get some action lmao. Then the prison fell... and in those first moments of “Still,” when we see Beth and Daryl running and running and finally collapsing on the ground, breathless and exhausted... the butterflies started. Something clicked and I immediately thought, “uh oh.” The rest is history, especially considering how “Still” and “Alone” played out. I can’t explain how or why I’m still so heavily invested, especially considering my last 2 fandoms only kept my attention for about 2-3 years each, but here I am. And I love it! I am so incredibly grateful for the Bethyl fandom because not only has it helped me improve my writing so much more than I ever could have imagined, but it has also introduced me to some of the most amazing people, including someone who I now consider one of my very best friends! It’s my happy place :)

For her personal fic rec list, she recommends:

In The Maw by ronsparkyspeirs

Way Down We Go by LeathernLaces

Surfacing by lindentree

Wild Things (The Moonshine Poet) by Abelina

The Gift by Feliz

The Man Who Can't Be Moved by burningupasun

New Experiences Series by wallflow3r

Whisper Softly to Me by taylorcatherine

Interstice by leftmywingshome

To Love Like a Man by Seraphique

Death, Death (i defy thee) by alamorn

In My Blood by Courtneyshortney82

Let the Good Times Roll by gutsforgarters

Resolved by Allatariel

the weight of these wings by peachthorns

all my spaces are filled with you by annabeth_writes

A Little Jailbreak with the Little Jailbait by wandering_gypsy_feet

between the beginning and the end by sheriffandsteel

SquishyCool’s Works & Personal Thoughts:

Dirty Fingernails and Dried Blood Summary: What happened during the months between "Still" and "Alone"? Beth uses the last pages of her diary to write down every detail of surviving with Daryl. Thoughts: My first Bethyl fanfic. It holds a special place in my heart for that reason, though it is pretty rough. If I could go back, I never would’ve done it entirely in first-person. But I do plan to finish it one day. There are some scenes I’m particularly proud of, and I still have a long note full of ideas and plot points.

Most Wanted Summary: After Beth’s mother and half-brother are murdered in a drug war, the godly veil on the Greene Family operation is lifted, and law enforcement comes down hard. In an effort to protect her family, Beth commits a heinous crime that could mean life in prison alongside them. Now everyone she’s ever trusted is in police custody and her only chance at freedom is to get as far away from Atlanta as she can... Thoughts: Well, this is a must-read if you like my writing. I hope to one day convert this into an original fiction and maybe get it published, but I need to finish it first LOL. I got the idea from ONE scene of “Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt,” and from there, it exploded into a huge mystery thriller (with lots of romance and smut). I’m really really proud of it, and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up tbh, so I keep putting off continuing it. But I really need to get back to it because I really want people to see what I have planned! (Also, this fic is the reason @courtneyshortney82​ started talking to me, so that alone is pretty historic lmao)

The Crow’s Song Summary: Beth and Daryl spend a few more days together in the funeral home and come to terms with all they've lost along the way. But soon, they must decide what comes next. Thoughts: This fic... this fucking fic. It took me a full year to write. I made numerous edits. I even got a little depressed while I was writing the last two chapters, and my bf didn’t know why until he read what I’d been writing lol. It’s honestly the Bethyl fic I’ve always wanted to write but just didn’t know how. I’m still really really proud of how it turned out.

Carnival Games Summary: Daryl is a traveling carnival worker and Beth is a barely legal farmer's daughter looking for a night of fun when the carnival comes to town. Thoughts: Omg this fic is so fun!! One of my first Bethyl fics, and one of my first Bethyl smut fics. Short, sweet, a little funny, and a lot hot. I am still impressed with myself on this one, especially considering how much my writing has improved since lol

Breathe. Please. Summary: Beth shows up at the Hilltop. Alive. Daryl can hardly believe his eyes. Until she's lying in his bed, an arm's reach away. And he can hear her inhaling... exhaling... inhaling... Thoughts: Another “fix-it” that I’m proud of. Tbh I didn’t think it was anything all that special, but a lot of readers have said it’s one of their favorites, and some say they reread it regularly, and nothing makes me happier than hearing that, so I am extremely proud.

picking @ scabs Summary: Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, being with them just isn't right. But what wouldn't you give for it to be right? Can someone like Daryl learn how to swallow his pride and stop repeating the same mistakes over and over? Can someone like Beth learn to fight off her demons and allow him to get close enough to hurt her again? How can they stay away from each other when it's all too easy to fall back into one another? Picking a scab will leave a scar, but they both have so many scars already... what's a few more? Thoughts: This fic is very, very personal for me. It’s like my “therapy” fic. I have poured some of my deepest feelings and struggles into its chapters, and the whole idea that got me to start it was that I wanted to find a way to navigate and cope with ending my 3-year long relationship with my emotionally/mentally/sometimes physically abusive ex. I still have a lot of fond memories from that relationship, but even more so, I have painful memories. Not to mention, going through your early 20s as a woman in the modern day is a fuckin’ trip, so this kind of explores that. It’s really self-indulgent, I think, but I’m really proud of the smut in it. And more than that, I’m proud of the response. I’ve had a few people message me or comment to say that they’ve felt all those things, or have experienced similar things, and it’s really just... relieving. I put my heart and soul out there, and what I got back was “you’re not alone.” So yeah, this fic is special. I wanna finish it soon, but I have to be in A Mood to do so. 

In Toto Corde Summary: Despite a million reasons not to, Beth and Daryl fell in love. Then he made the ultimate sacrifice in order to keep all of his promises. Now, facing unimaginable consequences at the hands of witch hunters, Beth has no choice but to use her powers to bring Daryl back from the dead. "He won't be the same..." Thoughts: I LOVE THIS FIC. I love it so much that I had to rewrite it after like 4 or 5 years. And I already started on a sequel that I really hope I’m able to finish. Though it doesn’t have many hits, and I don’t think many people have read it at all, which I understand since it basically is entirely focused around Daryl being killed. But damn, I’m proud of this one, and it was really fucking fun to write because witch!Beth is just... the best.

risk it all (part 1 of in for a penny, in for a pound) Summary: Daryl Dixon has a pretty decent life, all things considered. He's got his own place. A good dog. A few friends. Even a girlfriend. He keeps himself out of trouble. Until he starts texting Beth Greene. And hell, if he ain't about to risk it all for this damn girl. Thoughts: This was supposed to be one short multichapter fic focused entirely on smut and social media. Then I got on a roll and it ended up being the beginning of a series! This fic is purely fun. Nothing too serious or heavy. I write it when I’m in a Good Mood because it’s my little happy place. I have plans for about 4 more fics before the series will be finished!

Don’t Make Me Haunt You Summary: So here's the thing: Merle Dixon is dead as fuck. And as it turns out, Beth Greene is the only one who can see or hear him. Which is weird considering she's never met or even heard of this guy, let alone anyone with the last name Dixon. That's her first problem... Thoughts: The reception to this fic has absolutely blown me away. I had no idea anyone would want to read about ghost!Merle haunting Beth and forcing her to solve his murder with the help of his grumpy brother. And it was all inspired by an episode of South Park lmao then I started really getting into it and now it’s just like, my super fun fic where I explore a range of emotions and all kinds of religious beliefs and different mythologies and I can build the world however I want and goddamn I just love writing this fic. Plus there’s a podfic for it! I can’t even begin to explain how much I love this fic and how proud I am of it :)

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Weird q..but i really dont understand why most fans hate season 4, especially the last episode. Why? I think it gave us a deeper look on both sherlock and mycroft! I felt it tells a lot about mycroft how he had to step in and take control of things ever since he was a kid himself. Also he is not a robot or a killer. Also redbeard thing. It was an appropriate deep psychological trauma (cause most shows usually disappoint in that area). I am not trying to impose my opinion. Just want to understand

Hey Nonny!

It’s all good, and I totally respect your opinion and how you enjoyed S4! It’s totally okay! I know that there are quite a few who got a lot of of S4, and who genuinely enjoyed it.

Sadly, I am not one of those people, and I’ll try to be as diplomatic a possible in my response, but PLEASE know that I don’t think you’re “terrible” or “stupid” for liking S4 because I DO get passionate sometimes in my responses, and I’m just merely speaking as someone who studied the series very closely for quite a long time before S4 aired, and as someone who knows Day-One-ers (ie., people who watched Sherlock on its day one airdate) who also are a large majority of the people who did not like S4. This is just me simply stating why I didn’t like it, but it’s different for everyone.

Stating what I DO like: The acting and cinematography of the first two episodes were brilliant for what they had to work with, and I’ve never faulted any of the actors for the flaws of S4. And for TFP, they did the best with what they had to work with.

That’s… pretty much all I really liked about S4.

Now, here’s my problems with S4:

Nothing made a LICK of sense to the narrative that they were telling in Seasons prior. 

This series was always based a bit in reality, and suddenly everything became comic-book rules: X-Men villains, shitty “redemption” arc, destroying favourite characters just for drama, ludicrous physics, explosions that only destroyed one small room in an apt where in previous episodes one explosion destroyed an entire block, etc.

Sherlock was OOC.

Mary was being built up to be a fantastic villain? Ah, nope, here’s the lacklustre twist where tee hee Mary’s just an assassin with a heart of gold that still emotionally abuses Sherlock and John and just won’t fucking stay dead.

And speaking of this, the DVD’s make NO LOGICAL SENSE unless she was planning to kill herself

AND she tries to make her death equatable to Sherlock’s??

Everyone was RIDICULOUSLY out of character in TFP, I’m so sorry: Mycroft is a bumbling coward for the most part, Sherlock disregards John when he gives the Vatican Cameos warning, the Holmes Parents are assholes because Mycroft COULDN’T SOLVE A PROBLEM WHEN HE WAS 12?? ARE YOU SERIOUS???? And that creepy Moriarty / Eurus thing, and LITERALLY they’re implying that EVERYTHING HAPPENED BECAUSE EURUS DIDN’T GET A HUG. Like, I’m so sorry, but that’s lazy writing.

And don’t even get me started on the ridiculousness of the entire character of Eurus. She LITERALLY had X-Men powers, and like… just nothing made sense. Her involvement in the entirety of S4 MADE NO SENSE. Why go back to prison if you can get out?? WHAT IS THE POINT?? AND I repeat: She did all this because she didn’t get a hug. Yes. I’m oversimplifying, but at the base level, that’s what it was, because she wanted Sherlock’s attention. Welcome to the club, kid, stand in line, everyone on the SHOW wants his attention.

The ENTIRE plot of the first 2 seasons got wiped out all because it wasn’t Moriarty who was interested in Sherlock, but Eurus?? What… What about Carl Powers?? Like…. the ENTIRETY of season one and TGG makes no sense now, because of that one 5 minute scene where Eurus “enlists” Moriarty. I… ugh.

The SUDDEN tonal switch from kind-of Sherlock to James Bond, for some fucking reason.

And on that note, how terribly lazy and cheap TFP looks in comparison to the other two episodes. The whole episode looks like it was filmed in a small house with 4 identical rooms.

EVERYTHING that was etablished in 2 episodes prior were COMPLETELY forgotten when Mary was “shot”.

The complete character assassination of one loyal blogger John H Watson in favour of Mary for some fucked up reason, even though AT HIS OWN WEDDING HE COULDN’T STAND BEING AROUND MARY. I’m sorry, but I don’t believe for one damned second that John would EVER forgive Mary for murdering his best friend after seeing what it did to him. That’s not love from her, and that’s NOT John’s character EVER in the ENTIRETY of the series.

And speaking of character assassinations, Molly’s character being devolved to S1E1 Molly, where instead of giving her agency like they were doing with her the ENTIRE series, so much so that Sherlock picked up on her dominance enough to give her a big role in his mind palace in HLV and TAB, only to make her a sad little self-insert Mary Sue pining for the main character, and in turn made Sherlock a TERRIBLE human being for MAKING HER say what she did. It’s gross.

AND speaking of Molly’s character, they’ve been setting up Mollstrade since as early as ASiB, but I guess that plot line got shafted. Look I LOVE Hopkins, and I am ANGRY they didn’t give her more than 3 fucking lines in the entirety of ONE episode after HEAVILY promoting her actress and character, but they essentially reduced her to a piece of ass for Lestrade to chase. AND THAT’S NOT HIS CHARACTER EITHER. EW GROSS.

The constant plot holes being gaped wide open, and the Chekov’s gun moments where they bring up shit but do nothing with it!! 

TD-12? Nope, just a lame reference to a story we like. 

John got shot at the end of TLD with a VERY REAL FUCKING GUN? Nope, it was a dart gun. 

John not suddenly knowing how to be a doctor.

The TGG one I mentioned up above. 

What was in the letter? And who was Anyone??

Moriarty essentially being erased as anything other than a hired thug and had no part whatsoever in Sherlock’s history. 

Eurus… Just all of her character is asinine. 

Everyone in T6T suddenly not knowing John’s the blogger, which is in direct contradiction to literally the entire series. 

The AGRA plotline was ridiculous, in the end.

Baby? What baby? It was only there when convenient.

They dropped whatever plotline they were going to do for Mycroft: He was being set up as either dying, or the villain.

Redbeard. I’m sorry, I disagree with you on that. Mofftiss is trying to tell me that a little boy fell down a well and went missing, and that WASN’T the first place searchers / the police wouldn’t have looked? Sorry, no. And then. AND THEN his parents just… go along with this thing where Sherlock shuts down and they DON’T get him therapy? Yes, I agree the mind is a funny thing, and we can be traumatised into forgetting or dissociating from traumatic events. I GET IT. But… like I don’t believe the Holmes are so heartless as to just never grieve or have memories around about their supposedly dead daughter. It’s another OCC thing for me.

John’s cheating.

Disappearing and reappearing characters, like this scene, and the entirety of the aquarium scene.

Mary and John being terrible parents

OH GOD THIS FUCKING SCENE. That bomb SHOULD HAVE DESTROYED THE ENTIRE BUILDING.

What… who was this girl on the plane? What? Like I know WHO, but if she’s supposed to be Eurus talking to Sherlock, why don’t we see Eurus… talking to Sherlock? I … Ugh.

NORBURY. 

The glass SUPER SECRET GOVERNMENT ROOM THAT NO ONE SHOULD SEE INTO in T6T.

Sloppy camera work that some believe was intentional, but if it wasn’t, jesus c’mon.

The RIDICULOUS amount of 4th Wall Breaking. Like… even the actors didn’t give a shit.

Essentially, everything on this list here and in this blog tag here.

And everything mentioned on these three posts:

T6T: 10 Revealing Things That Haunt You Late at Night 

TLD: 10 Revealing Things That Haunt You Late at Night

TFP: 10 Revealing Things That Haunt You Late at Night

There’s SO much more I can go into, but please go through my “something’s fucky” tag in that last link.

Notice how probably 90% of that has NOTHING to do with “johnlock not becoming canon” because the Johnlockers get MONSTROUS accusations as to THAT being why we didn’t like S4, even though it was, like critically panned by the GENERAL AUDIENCE who have NO investment in the series other than “I liked it in the past”.

Two of my fave YouTubers have interesting (not perfect, but still good) takes coming at the series as casual viewers:

‘The Day Sherlock Died’ by The Closer Look

‘Sherlock is Garbage, and Here’s Why’ by hbomberguy

So it’s NOT just Johnlockers. I’ve talked to Sher1011ies at 221B con who didn’t like S4 either, because most of them realized how shitty Molly was treated in the last episode. So yeah, a big middle finger to those who think I dislike S4 because of  “no Johnlock”. No, I disliked it because I need my stories to make logical narrative sense. I disliked it because I love John and they ruined his character all for the sake of drama and because Moffat has a “hurting Ben” kink. I disliked it because Mary should NOT have been “redeemed” because she was an abuser. I disliked it because Moriarty was turned into a cartoon villain, even though he was already overused in the series. I disliked it because the core of the show – the FRIENDSHIP of Sherlock and John, and their solving mysteries together – did not exist at all. I disliked it because John got sidelined. I disliked it because TFP was a ridiculous episode that, if you replace ANY of the characters, it wouldn’t make a difference, because it didn’t feel like an episode of Sherlock. I disliked it because everyone was OOC.

Anyway. Sorry. One too many accusations my way over the past 1100+ days LOL.

As for your assessment of TFP, I’m going to have to respectfully disagree with you. There was no growth and actually it implies something far more sinister: That the Holmes are and were terrible parents that gave no shits about their daughter, their traumatized son, and expected their eldest to essentially be a parent. It implies that Mycroft, at 12 years old, orchestrated the ENTIRE Sherrinford thing… Look I can suspend my disbelief, but there’s limits, and this is one of them. A LITERAL CHILD. Perhaps Uncle Rudy had a hand in it somehow, but then why not shit on Uncle Rudy? Why is Mycroft blamed for it all?

Look, I don’t doubt Sherlock had a traumatic experience regarding “Redbeard”. But then why play into the fact that he was a dog? Why bring another character into the series just to have a gotcha moment? Because Mofftiss wanted a “Shyamalan twist”, that’s why. They threw EVERYTHING away for a twist ending either because they GENUINELY thought it was good, or they got tired of doing Sherlock. ALL of TFP is LITERALLY a really bad plot twist because reasons. TFP makes no sense to the ENTIRE narrative structure of the previous 12 episodes. It erased EVERYTHING from the previous episodes, and coated it with a gross closing by a character no one wanted in the series, and then tried to convince us that it’s a new beginning – “a journey they had to go through” – but it SOLVED NOTHING.

Anyway. I have big feels about S4, and the only way I can enjoy it is to watch it subtextually, but even then, I cannot sit through TFP without cringing. 

That said, Lovelies, please do not attack Nonny for enjoying S4! I know you guys won’t, but Nonny came out with an olive branch and they just want to understand why the fandom is passionate about S4′s… whatever it was. We can have a civil discussion about it, and point out – without attacking – why S4 is universally panned. It’s okay to like things no one else does, and Nonny was respectful to me in this ask! 

So with that, feel free, lovelies, to express why YOU didn’t enjoy the series, or why you did! I’m interested in both “sides” / pov’s whatever :)

[bnhablessings]

Comfort/fluff Headcanons or scenarios for Present Mic, All Might and Eraserhead reacting to their insecure s/o wanting to get married? Like s/o has been acting off and distancing their self because they don't feel worthy? Thanks if you do🥺💖

I adored this request with my ENTIRE being. (I ended up doing both headcanons and scenarios lol) I love them and I hope you think they are comfy/fluffy enough! It’s been a while since I wrote about the three men and I love them.

All three of them would love to show you how much you mean to them in a nsfw way ; )

All Might, Eraserhead, Present Mic x Reader (GN/NB)

Warnings: Angsty for a hot second, fluff, the reader is insecure, Present Mic’s so the most angsty one omg.

Words: 2,133

Aizawa Shouta (Eraserhead)-

Chances are if you are starting to think about marriage, he is too

He is very observant so he’ll notice the change in your behavior immediately

He won’t do anything about it for a while because he will be a smidge confused at first but once he realizes what is going on he will bring it up as soon as possible to get the problem over and dealt with

If he suspects you’re being insecure about yourself, he will be more loving towards you

Aizawa doesn’t know how long he can pretend everything is fine. He knows it’s not. You’ve been acting strange and the worst part is you haven’t been opening up to him. It’s killing him and making him more moody than usual. Thankfully, he got off his patrol early tonight to come home to you.

As soon as he enters the shared apartment you live in, he takes note the kitchen light is on and you are passed out on the couch. The sight makes his heart hurt. You are curled up in a ball covered in a blanket. It’s obvious you fell asleep crying from how puffy you are eyes seem to be. He sighs and goes to fix the blanket when he notices a picture under the blanket being held to your chest with your other hand.

With a gentle touch, he pulls it from your grip and stares at it with a smile. It is a picture of when the two of you started dating. A shaky breath leaves you and he decides now is a good time as any to talk. He places the picture on the coffee table nearby and lifts you and the blanket gently up so he can scoot behind you and hold you.

You let out a sleepy hum before you wake up fully upon realizing that Aizawa is back. You go to sit up and move but he holds a tight grip on your waist.

“Stay. It’s been a while since we were last like this,” He mumbles.

His voice sounds so tired and you feel guilty immediately. However, the warmth he provides to your back makes you give in. You snuggle as close as you can to him and he lets out a content sigh. The air feels slightly melancholy but he is sure to fix it.

He might as well just come outright and say it.

“I want to marry you.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches. He can feel the slight trembling in your body as you try not to cry.

“Do you not want to marry me?” The question has no emotion to it. He’s just trying to figure out why this topic is making you this way.

You struggle to turn and he helps you so you are both face-to-face. He knows you are vulnerable right now so he is careful with you. You are after all his precious person. He cups your face and you lean into his warm hand.

“I know you’ve been pushing yourself away from me lately. I figured you needed space but now I know that isn’t the case. Do you wish to separate? I love you so if that is what you want to do I will take it into consideration-“

You quickly interrupt him with a panicky voice. “No! That’s not it at all! I love you more than you’ll ever know. I have been thinking of marriage too… but… You deserve someone better. After all that you do for me and others… How can I call myself your (husband/wife)? It doesn’t feel right since you deserve someone who people can approve of.”

He stares at you long and hard. He is pissed off at your thoughts but gentle in how he reacts to them. It takes him a moment before he just places a kiss on your forehead.

“I want you. I want to marry you. I don’t care what other people think and you shouldn’t either. You are everything I want and you make me a better person. I want no one else but you. Just take some time and think about it. We’ll talk more when you feel better but (Name)… I want you.”

He’s not much of a talker but you needed to hear it from him. You need to know how much you mean to him and how happy he would be just to have you married to him.

Yagi Toshinori (All Might)-

If you are in a relationship with Toshi, it’s probably been a really long time and he’s been thinking about marriage as well

HOWEVER, he will be just as insecure as you are

He will distance himself to with work or even bring it up to you how you should be with someone not as busy as him (this may change when he retires)

He’ll play the same card you play: that you deserve to be with someone better

 “(Name), what’s been going on with you lately?” Toshi decides to ask after seeing you look so down watching your favorite show.

It leaves him a bit nervous but he wants to talk to you. He hasn’t been feeling so well with the current idea that’s been lingering in his head. With his own odd behavior, he has barely noticed yours but still has. He was going to push you away further but the thought nearly killed him.

How could he do that to the person he loves most?

You seem to hesitate before you decide to be honest. “I… Think we need to separate. I love you but I don’t deserve to be with you.”

It feels like he has whiplash as he stares at you with concerned eyes. Quickly, he pulls you up so you’re standing and he looks down at you before just hugging you. The panic is obvious on his face as well as the hurt from the suggestion (even though he was feeling the same way).

“Don’t say that. I am the one who doesn’t deserve to be with you. You deserve better. I love you more than you can ever know but you deserve someone who can actually make time for you and proudly show you off. I want to announce to the world that you are my (husband/wife) but I’m terrified of you turning into a big target. I wouldn’t be able to handle that.”

“I want to marry you too but… I don’t- I just don’t think I deserve you. You are so kind, loving, and patient with me. Would you really be okay with marrying me? You’d be stuck with someone who doubts themselves-“

He cuts you off with a passionate kiss this time before returning to a simple hug.

You hug him tightly as you both take a moment to relish in each other’s embrace. Finally, you speak up but in a barely audible whisper. “Are we okay then? What should we do?”

“…Well, we both love each other and from our current situation we’re both insecure, I think we should stay together. I want to stay together. We can go to therapy so we can stop our insecure thinking. I don’t know but I do know I don’t want to break up at all. I love you and I will continue to fight for us. We have time to get married so we can work on ourselves together.”

He takes a moment to just hold you and you are so thankful that you weren’t the only feeling insecure as shitty as that is. It just means you both are perfect for each other and for thinking about one another. You can both work for this and that is what you want to do because you do want to be married to him.

“You are the best thing that has happened to me. You’re the one who gets me and is patient with me. I’ll take tomorrow off so we can make up for lost time,” Toshi murmurs.

Yamada Hizashi (Present Mic)-

Zashi wouldn’t notice you distancing yourself at first

It would take a while but he will notice the moment you neglect him physically

Zashi is a very touchy and clingy person so he will notice the moment you avoid his touches and boy will be H U R T

He’ll force a smile and leave you be a for a bit but will 100% complain to Aizawa

After much-needed courage, he will ask you about it and he will probably cry tears of joy for you wanting to marry him and yell (by complete accident) that you don’t think you are worthy

 Yamada winces once more as you attempt to scoot away slowly. He’s so grateful you actually showed up to his radio show but now that you’re here it’s like you are not. You listen to his voice and the songs he puts on with a strained smile and seem so far away.

He finally decides to just put on a mix his audience will love so he can have time to sort this out here and now. He just can’t handle it. It’s been so long since you last held his hand.

“Alright listeners! I’ll see ya in a few after this break. Enjoy these AWESOME new tunes that yours truly loves!”

He puts the music on and turns to you who is already staring at him with wary eyes. His face suddenly falls and looks like a puppy that just got kicked. Your heart is doing everything it can to not fall apart at the sight.

Slowly his hand goes to reach for yours but you are quick to move it into the safety of your lap. His eyes start to get misty and he finally snaps. “I- Um… Do you want to break up with me?” The words come out choked as he tries to keep his voice from shaking.

“What?! No!”

He’s doing the opposite of what Aizawa told him to do. He’s going in and assuming shit when Aizawa said to bring this up in calmly matter. Yamada can’t help it. He feels so torn and truly unloved right now.

“Are you sure? You haven’t held my hand for days. Days! The only time we have had our sweet cuddle sess is when you are passed out. Did I do something wrong? Did I come off as annoying? Aizawa always jokes about that but I do think that is a reason why no one wants me. I love you so much but if you want to leave me I understand,” Yamada states finally letting the tears leave him.

Your heart races at his words. Emotions are high and you give in. You give in to what you truly want. Your hand reaches for his and you grasp onto it like it is your lifeline and it is in a way. He pauses at the contact before squeezing your hand and trying to keep the way your hand feels like in his to his memory.

“Zashi no. That’s not it at all, my love. I… Just… God, I can’t do this. I don’t know how to say this because it’s so embarrassing and stupid,” You mumble.

He pulls you into his chair so he can cuddle you. Your body finally touching his makes him melt and feel like home. He lets you take a moment and for once stays absolutely quiet so you can gather your thoughts. His thumb rubs circles into your hand to encourage you to speak your thoughts.

“I love you so much. I have actually been thinking about… You know… Getting married but then I started to overthink it and can you truly be happy with just me? There are plenty of other people out there and I just don’t feel like I am enough for you,” You say finally letting out a shaky breath as well.

It takes a moment before he is laughing. The laughter takes you by surprise but not as much as the way he lets go of your hand to squeeze you in a tight hug. He wipes at his eyes.

“Was that is, my honey? I love you more than the world knows. In fact, I should announce soon that you are my world! You are more than enough. You are everything I want, I promise you! I will tell you this every day until it is engraved into your mind. So please… Don’t push me away like that again. I don’t think my soul can take it!”

He doesn’t give you much of an option to reply since he has to go back on air but he does hold you like the way you both love throughout the rest of the show, reminding you that he truly does love you.

[justanother-unluckysoul]

Working My Way Back To You 7/10

Killian gets captured. When Emma finally rescues him, he’s traumatized and nearly broken from the torture he endured. Angst and h/c galore as Emma helps him through it.

I tried to go easy on the whumpy side of it since it’s supposed to be for Comfortember, but it’s me so I probably failed lol

Happy new year! And good riddance to the absolute mess that was 2020. Here we are back into the angst and the hurt, for the prompts “flashbacks,” and “hot cocoa.”

Warnings for this chapter: referenced rape. (it's super vague though)

Unbetad as always so mistakes are all mine.

Tagging @cocohook38 as requested.

Read this chapter on AO3

Working My Way Back To You

Flashbacks + Hot Cocoa

Christmas wasn’t as bad as Killian had worried. He was careful to ensure his back was never left unguarded, because he was still too easily startled by anyone touching him from behind, and David and Snow White hadn’t brought up any difficult topics, and Killian had only caught Snow staring at his splinted hand once. He’d had a good day, everything considered. They laughed, and talked, and ate good food and exchanged gifts. Though between imbibing a bit too much alcohol and the strain of being so hyper-vigilant for that length of time, by the time their guests had left Killian was barely still on his feet. But it was okay because Emma was there to brace him when he wobbled precariously on his way upstairs. And he thought that was a good metaphor for their relationship, really. Heh. It seemed he was a little drunker than he first believed if he’s getting this maudlin.

 ----

Early in the new year, the doctor declares Killian’s fingers healed enough to have the splints off, and shortly after, Killian concludes that physical therapy is not far removed from torture. His fingers have become too used to remaining straight and flexing them hurts. And his therapist, Stacy, is completely indifferent to his suffering. Her hands on his own are sure and relentless as she coaxes his fingers into different positions and he just barely stops himself from yanking his hand from her grip.

“Bloody hell,” he hisses instead, and at least she has the decency to apologize.

But she doesn’t let his hand go.

“I’m sorry, Captain. I did warn you this wouldn’t be pleasant to start with.”

She had warned him, he’ll give her that. But he wasn’t prepared for how much it would pain him. Or how soon his dark memories would begin to creep out of the cage he’d locked them in. Blood and bone and see how well you can escape now, pirate. He grits his teeth and tries to focus on what Stacy’s telling him.

“See if you can make a fist.”

His fingers don’t want to. He flexes them barely enough to hold a cup instead and Killian’s chewing on his lower lip hard enough to hurt.

“Hey, it’s okay. Just relax a bit, huh? Captain?”

He’s not trembling. There’s definitely not a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. His heart is not beating loudly in his ears. Take some deep breaths, Jones, before you bloody lose it.

“Are you okay? We can take a break if you need to.”

“I’m fine,” he lies.

Stacy sees right through him. Of course. It’s not like he’s making a very convincing effort here. She hands him a squishy ball and tells him to try squeezing it. Thankfully Killian has a little more success with that, although it still hurts and his grasp is weak. But Stacy lets him end the session on that “high note,” and Killian silently fumes all the way back home, his boots hitting the pavement with a little more force than required. The doctor had promised his hand would heal, and when he’d been told it would be “almost as good” as before, Killian had assumed he’d actually be able to make a damn fist.

----

Emma had offered to take the day off work to attend Killian’s first physical therapy session with him, but he’d declined. He didn’t need her to play nursemaid anymore, and he definitely didn’t want her to see what a mess he was emotionally afterwards. And he’s immensely grateful they’d had the foresight to get Henry out of the house for a while, just in case of this exact outcome. Killian had scoffed at Emma’s suggestion, at her insinuation he wouldn’t be able to handle a bit of therapy, but now he’s reluctantly admitting that she was right. Because even once he’s back home, his heartrate still hasn’t calmed down and he can almost feel his captor’s touch on him again, the sensation making him want to claw off his own skin. He takes a long, hot shower and debates whether he should take the pills for his aching hand or drink some rum – rum wins in the end because he hopes it’ll also calm his thoughts. Archie won’t be happy if he finds out Killian hasn’t been using the “proper coping techniques,” but bugger that, Killian thinks he’s earned this. So that’s where Emma finds him when she gets home from work, sprawled out on the couch in dark jeans and a shirt buttoned even less than usual, with a bit too much rum in his blood, bleary eyes watching his fish swim back and forth.

“How’d it go?” Emma asks, before she really takes in the sight of him, “Oh. That bad, huh?”

“S’fine. Just got a little tense afterwards, needed to calm down.”

His voice slurs just a little. He must look a mess, because Emma plucks the bottle from his loose fingers and sets it out of reach before sitting next to him. He doesn’t protest. The pain has settled deep into his knuckles where the rum couldn’t reach it anyway. Perhaps he should have taken Stacy’s advice and put some ice on it. Too late now.

“Does it hurt?” Emma asks, and Killian probably should have done a better job at concealing that fact from her.

But the way his fingers are twitching, and he’s tucked his hand gently into the crook of his left elbow, bracing his right arm against his chest now she’s taken the bottle away leaves no room to deny that it hurts.

“Aye, but not too much.”

Not too much. It’s the truth because he’s felt far worse pain. He can handle a few spasms, a few shooting pains through his fingers. At least he still has any fingers to feel pain in. When his captors had maimed it, and then continued to target it throughout the following days, he’d honestly thought that would be the end of his hand. He can feel his heartbeat quicken again and he tries to distance himself from that memory quickly, and thankfully Emma provides the distraction. She conjures something from somewhere without leaving his side, a bottle of liquid that smells heavenly as she tips some onto her hand and rubs them together. Killian watches her with weary curiosity.

“Let me help?” Emma reaches for his hand and he gives it to her without hesitation.

She’s always so gentle, her hands so soft and careful with his wounds. And now, as she works her warm hand across his in soothing patterns Killian wonders what he did to deserve this beautiful woman. Emma watches his face for any signs that she’s hurting him, and he gives her an encouraging smile. Her ministrations, even without her magic, are pulling the tension from his muscles in a way neither the rum nor the medicine could ever do. He lets out a quiet sigh and rests his head on the couch, closing his eyes, surrendering completely to the pleasant sensations and the feeling of total safety he has with Emma. The scent of the oil washes over his senses, calming and balancing.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma asks, her quiet voice a balm over his tired soul.

“Not really.”

He knows she won’t push him. He doesn’t want to think about therapy or trauma or any of that right now and she lets him get away with it, pressing her lips lightly against his temple. He hums a faint sound of satisfaction.

“I wish I could take away your pain,” Emma murmurs, “I hate seeing you suffer and not being able to do a damn thing about it.”

“Believe me, Emma, you’re doing plenty. This is wonderful.”

His voice is barely audible. He feels blissful and content. He’s not sure how much of the feeling is the rum finally taking effect and how much is Emma’s gentle touch and how much is the scent of the oil. Her fingers are still moving steadily over his own, tracing lightly over the still-healing scars.

“Do you want to move this upstairs? And I can do the rest of you.”

As loathe as Killian is to move on from this delightfully tranquil moment, the thought of Emma doing the rest of him is too tempting and he hauls himself off the couch. Though logically, he knew that Emma wouldn’t get to do much more massaging once they relocated to the bedroom. But he didn’t mind that at all. Their kisses are heated and passionate and he knows he’s setting her every nerve ablaze, even though they’ve barely started. He knows all her sensitive spots; where to stroke and to squeeze, where to press his lips, his tongue, where to bite and where to suck, how to roll his hips against her in a way that makes Emma grow wild with desire. She’s losing herself in the sensations, he can see in the darkening of her green eyes, her hands shaking as she frantically unfastens his belt and tugs at his trousers and- Panic claws its way up his throat. Killian’s movement stutters, then stops completely. He closes his eyes tightly, trying to calm himself down, trying to breathe. It’s okay, you’re safe, it’s just Emma the rational part of his mind says, but he could be still in the cellar right now, bent over and they’re about to-

“Killian?”

No. Those are Emma’s hands touching him. Holding his hips to steady him because he’s trembling. But suddenly he can’t, he can’t, his stomach is twisting into a nauseating knot and he pulls away from her touch.

“S-sorry, love, I don’t think I can…”

Killian gestures vaguely, and he can’t even look at her as he scrambles off the bed, his hand shaking as he awkwardly holds up his jeans. His arousal is fading, all his intentions of a moment ago swept away by his fears. By his memories. Just look at yourself, Hook. Can’t even please a woman. You’re broken. You’re a coward. The thoughts don’t feel quite like his own, more like a memory of words spat at him by others, though he whole-heartedly agrees with them. Emma stops him with a gentle hand on his arm before he can move out of reach. It’s altogether too much and he wants to tell her to stop, but the words he wants to say are choking him, because Killian Jones doesn’t beg.

“Killian, look at me,” Emma says, and waits for him to reluctantly lift his gaze to her own, “It’s okay. We don’t have to do this.”

He swallows hard and he’s still shaking, but he doesn’t run. No matter how bad he wants to.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t… I just…” Killian struggles to explain.

She stands and reaches up slowly to stroke his cheek, but he can’t help flinching away from her touch. Emma drops her hands to her sides again immediately and Killian’s heart cracks in half at the look of guilt on her face.

“Sorry,” he whispers.

“It’s okay,” Emma repeats softly, “Just stay with me.”

Killian had never spoken of it to her, but it was no secret what he’d been through during his capture. Emma had probably seen the blood, and the bruises on his hips from where they’d held him still. She knew. Killian swallows hard as he watches the emotions play out across her face. He loves her so much it hurts. But gods, he can’t do this right now, as desperately as he wants to. Because they’ve ruined him, sullied his mind and his body and broke him so thoroughly that now he’s utterly dependant on Emma, and tonight he can’t even give her the one thing she wants in return.

“What do you need me to do, Killian?” she asks softly.

Words fail him. And he’s not sure what he would even say if he was capable of speech. What does he need? He needs to forget, just for a while. To drink until he blacks out. To lose himself in Emma’s scent and her touch. But he can’t. He can’t do anything. He’s helpless. Emma lets her hands drift to his belt again, buckling it again in slow, deliberate movements because his hand is shaking too badly now to do it himself. Killian chews on his lower lip hard enough to hurt, wants it to hurt, anything to feel something that isn’t the blinding terror of someone else’s hands on his body. It’s just Emma, being so careful and gentle like she always is now so why can’t he move past this? Why is he shaking so badly?

“It’s okay,” she assures him, “Don’t worry about this. Do you want some hot chocolate?”

“Yeah,” he says, and takes a sharp breath like he’s been holding it too long, and maybe he has, “But add some rum to mine, will you?”

He laughs on his exhale, a weak and breathless thing. She smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes – eyes that are full of something akin to sorrow, and far too much sympathy. He hates knowing those emotions are directed at him, he’s not worthy of her compassion and he can’t bear to look at her anymore, his eyes darting away to some point across the room. Emma doesn’t bother putting back on the clothes he pulled off her, just pulls a robe around herself to ward off the evening chill, and Killian trails behind her down to the kitchen, tries to breathe as she fills the jug and sets it to boil. He can’t stand still. Everything feels wrong. His whole body is a tightly coiled spring, aching with a need that his traitorous mind won’t allow him to fulfil. It’s going to drive him mad. And worse than his own need is the thought that he’s leaving Emma unsatisfied as well. Then Emma turns to him, reaches for him slowly, and when he turns his face away and his pursed lips out of reach but doesn’t step back, she changes her strategy, presses a tender kiss to the smooth line of his throat. He’s still trembling, but her touch draws a desperate almost-whine from him. Bloody hell, he needs her like he needs to breathe.

“Stay with me, Killian,” she murmurs, “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. But I need you with me, right here.”

Her hand settles over his heart, and even through his shirt he’s certain she can feel how quickly it’s beating. But she waits for him, looks into his eyes and waits for him to move. When Killian does move, it’s with a rush as he takes her mouth with his, eyes closed, his hand cradling the back of her head. Emma’s hands are light, her touch soothing, letting him take what he needs. And she’s as intoxicating as ever, just the taste of her mouth sending a delicious heat through his body and he never wants this to end. But this is as far as he can go tonight. Killian can still feel the memories in the back of his mind, like a dark chasm he could easily tumble into if he takes the wrong step. He’s been trying to keep them contained in a box, an imaginary cage he can throw all the trauma into, but it seems the strain of physical therapy had loosened his mental lock on it.

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice is rough when he releases her lips and turns his face away again in humiliation. “I want to, but… I’m- I’m sorry.”

He tries to step away, his shame overwhelming, but Emma isn’t going to let him go so easily. Her hand presses lightly against the small of his back, coaxing him back to her, feeling the tremors still skittering down his spine. She lifts her other hand on his face, fingers caressing his tightly clenched jaw as she draws his attention back to her.

“It’s okay,” she tells him again, and he knows she’ll tell him as many times as she has to before he believes her, “We don’t have to do anything tonight. Just breathe, Killian. Just… Just stay.”

“I’m here, Swan,” he says, cursing the way his voice shakes.

His thumb brushes her cheek, before he lowers his forehead gently against hers and breathes deeply, breathing her in, the curve of his hook resting against her hip. Emma gives a soft sigh as he does so. He can feel himself calming, settling into her embrace, soothed by her caresses. The moment is broken by the bubbling sound and subsequent click of the jug as it finishes boiling the water, but although Killian’s hand still trembles a little when he takes the cup of cocoa, he gifts her with a smile of gratitude. She’s too good for him, far more kind than he could ever deserve. And yet here she still is, smiling back at him over her cup, her lips almost hidden behind the pile of whipped cream she’s scooped into her drink.

 ----

(Later, he uses his mouth to satisfy her needs, and at least he can still do that, but for himself? He’s reduced to finishing off in the shower alone, like the coward he is.)

To be continued

[syms-things-5]

Clear The Area - Chapter Fourteen

Previous Chapter HERE

Warnings: Language, NSFW Language

Tags: @jennmurawski13 @kelbabyblue

Note: Apologies, this is a repost from yesterday for reasons I won’t go into now. i hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Fourteen

Sarah jostled with the mail as she entered their building, trying hard not to knock over the newest fresh plant currently adorning the entrance. They usually took it in turns to handle the post and whatever parcels the Supervisor had signed for that day but she was starting to feel a little short-changed as Shanna had consistently more post coming her way these days. Sarah realised she needed to get out more. Carting everything up the stairs was starting to become its own workout. Today’s treasures involved two Nasty Gal packages, a package from Pottery Barn, a box from Amazon, and what appeared to be a free sample of a Louis Vuitton fragrance. Sarah might just keep that last one to herself.

Jocelyn had sent another care package of sorts her way but it only served to remind Sarah that she had not called her folks in over a week. Ever since the accident, Jocelyn had been so consumed with worry that she had taken to sending Sarah articles ripped form magazines and gift cards for relaxation therapies. Despite Sarah’s many protests to the contrary, Jocelyn was sure Sarah was struggling with some form of undiagnosed PTSD. She’d read about it in a magazine. “If affects upwards of half a million American every year, honey.”

After successfully dodging the neighbour’s schnauzer, she eventually reached their floor and was just about to turn her key in the lock when the door swung wide open. Before she had time to react, she was brought face to face with a stressed-out Shanna, hair dripping wet from a shower. Not her favourite Shanna it had to be said. Not even in the Top Ten.

She grabbed Sarah by both shoulders. “I don’t know what I’m going to wear, Sarah! I’ve got less than an hour!”

“And hello to you, too!” Sarah smiled broadly, almost comically so, before Shanna lowered her head in embarrassment and moved out of the way so Sarah could physically get into her own home. She held the packages up. “Maybe there is something in here?”

Shanna shook her head. “No, they’re more summery. More formal.” She’d started fluttering around Sarah in a panic. “Do you still have that leather midi skirt? Do you think I could fit into it?”

“Uhh yeh it’s in the back of my closet somewhere.” she remembered. “Might be a bit warm, though? What are you gonna wear with it?”

“Well it’s a punky kind of bar, think it has live music and stuff so I thought maybe that Rolling Stones t-shirt and the maroon boots? Keep my hair down and casual?”

“So basically all of my clothes?” Sarah retorted. Shanna pressed her hands together in prayer and gave her the best pitiful smile she could manage, one she knew Sarah couldn’t resist. Shanna seemed to genuinely like this guy and if this guy was as charming and as smart as she told her he was, Sarah was sure she would like him, too. Hell, he’d be best friends with Scott and Chris in no time so long as he enjoyed football, Sam Adams, and didn’t put points on Shanna’s licence.

“Give me five minutes and I’ll see what I can pull together. Do you wanna borrow that heart necklace of mine? If you’re wearing your hair down, it’s probably best you avoid wearing earrings unless you want me to cut you out of them again.” Sarah shouted as she walked into her room unaware that Shanna had followed her closely behind.

“Oh god I hadn’t even thought that far. You know what, I might just cancel. This is just too much right now and I’m not even sure if he really likes me as anything more than a friend.” She feigned a dramatic flop onto Sarah’s bed, one arm landing across her forehead. Sarah delved through her closet to locate the desired items. If Shanna was threatening to cancel the date already, it must be serious.

“How many of you are going to this club?” Sarah asked, emerging from the closet doorway.

“Don’t know. Think three or four from my department and another couple from his?” she responded, hopelessness evident in her voice. Shanna never did well with vagueness where guys were concerned; everything had to be black and white with her.

“Come on, you’ve still got time.” Sarah encouraged as she carried some clothes and a couple of pairs of boots towards the bed. “Dry your hair and we’ll figure this out, OK?”

“Have I told you how much I love you lately?” Shanna pouted and Sarah tried to shrug off the pit growing in her stomach from her words. Shanna used every ounce of energy she could muster to get up and drag herself back into the bathroom leaving Sarah shaking her head.

It was only a rare occasion when Shanna took less time getting ready in the bathroom. Sarah had fond memories of shouting through the door back when they were at college and deciding to move in together required a complete 180 degree shift in her expectations. Still, in less than half an hour, here she emerged fully dressed, primer and foundation applied, and hair dried accordingly. It was a miracle of epic proportions and if she hadn’t shoved some false eyelashes into Sarah’s hand, Sarah would have snapped a photograph to send to the family as evidence that their little girl was growing up.

Thanks to her professional, steady hand, Sarah was always the eyelash-fixer among their group. While fixing a couple of lashes to the corners of her eyes, Sarah’s phone buzzed. It buzzed a couple more times in quick succession and she would have managed to ignore it had it not been for Shanna’a roving eye.

“Looks like someone wants you.” she murmured, trying her hardest not to move as Sarah held the glued lash in place with some tweezers.

“It’ll just be Audrey probably.” Sarah responded in no rush to check for herself, keeping a firm hold on what she was doing.

Shanna tried glancing to her side one more time to catch who it was but couldn’t quite make it out. It buzzed again. “I’d hate for you to miss out on a date with Greg on account of helping piece my pathetic love life together. Oooh maybe we could double-date!”

Shanna’s exclaim nearly caused Sarah to lose her grip on the tweezers but a sharp intake of breath convinced Shanna to give up the inquisition. “Sorry. Sorry.” she held her hands up as an apology before feeling Sarah’s hands relax as she moved across to the other eye.

Sarah was pleased to see Shanna eventually leave their apartment. Not because she wanted the peace particularly but just because it was nice to see her get excited over a guy that wasn’t Ben. She looked gorgeous, too. Sarah was quite proud of her work. If it wasn’t to be a proper date, it definitely would be after tonight. Robbie would be an absolute fool to miss out.

It was only when she slumped dow onto the couch and spent the next hour or so flicking through television channels that she remembered her phone had buzzed earlier on. She reluctantly peeled herself off the sofa and retrieved it from where it had originally landed on her bedside table. Honestly, it was like Shanna had taught her nothing.

From just two messages, Chris had attempted some mild flirtation with her before asking her if she knew what in God’s Name Penhaligon’s was.

Sarah 8.19pm: Perfume I think. Pretty old school brand. Why?

Chris 8.23pm: Mom wants it for her birthday. Never heard of it before. Scott thought it might be some kind of scarf??

She googled the name to make sure. Last thing she wanted was to end up ruining Lisa’s birthday celebrations with a present she absolutely did not want. Her birthday was something she took with increasing seriousness as each year passed by and her children and grandchildren grew older in front of her eyes. There was always a party of sorts, a massive cake, perhaps a theme, and a “suggestion list” for possible gifts. Well, they say “suggestion” but rarely did anyone dare deviate from “the list”. Sarah hadn’t yet considered buying a present but if Chris was already looking, she would no doubt need to catch up.

Sarah 8.34pm: Yep, pretty certain it’s a perfume. Pretty pricey. Good shout.

Sarah started scanning through her phone as another couple of messages caught her eye, some she had accidentally missed from earlier in the day. One from Audrey. One from Greg that she was not expecting.

Greg 7.02pm: Great news! 29th is set up. All you need to do is say the word! Don’t know how long I can hold the spot open so let me know as soon as you can. Have a great evening x

It took her a moment to register what he was talking about.

Chris 8.37pm: Cool THX What are you wearing??

Sarah stared down at the phone. She felt light-headed. There was far too much going on for this time of the day. She wiped at her forehead with her sweater sleeve and took a deep breath.

Sarah 8.41pm: You wouldn’t be interested lol

Chris 8.42pm: try me..........

He had a surprising habit these days of cheering her up.

Sarah 8.46pm: Nah I look a mess. Get out while you can.

Her phone started ringing almost as soon as she’d pressed ‘send’, Chris’ name flashing on her screen. She contemplated not answering now that her mood had taken a turn but she knew he would work out something was wrong and immediately dive over.

“Hey,” she answered, trying for a jovial tone but coming up just south of delirious.

“Hey you,” he smiled through the phone, happy to hear her voice. “In all the years I have known you, Bernette, not once would I describe you as looking like a mess.”

She laughed down the line. She made the right decision.

“...you are far too cute to ever be a mess. Do you know that? Like, I can already picture you with your sweats on, your hair tied up, soft skin...” he trailed off with a low sigh that she was sure was filthier than he intended it to be. “Man, that really does something to me.”

“You really know how to charm a girl. Have you figured this Penhaligon’s thing out yet? Was I right?”

“Don’t change the subject.”

She laughed again. “Sorry. Sorry. I’m not great with flirting over the phone. You should know that by now.”

“Then do it with me in person.” he proposed as if it was the easiest solution in the world. As if she wasn’t going to be distracted with thoughts of work and studies enough to not focus on him entirely. And he didn’t deserve to be second best.

It would have been all too easy to allow him to come over. Forget about overthinking things again. There truly was no one better at making her feel good about herself these days. Like, honest, through-the-bone good about herself, whatever that entailed. Goosebumps raised on her skin at the thought.

“I’m pretty whacked to be honest and...”

“What’s going on? Are you feeling alright?” he asked, concern evident in his tone. Whatever he had been pottering about with in the background had stopped all of a sudden.

“Yes! Yeh, I’m fine. Just...I dunno, boring. Plus, it’s Friday night! You should be out with the guys or whatever. Shan said Scott is having issues with Zach again. Is he OK?”

He laughed at her second lame attempt to deflect. He knew something was going on and he knew she knew he wouldn’t give up easily.

“Is Shanna there?” he asked.

“No, she went out with some friends.”

“So why don’t you ask me to come over and I’ll make you feel better than fine?”

She was lucky she was sat down or that her legs were crossed underneath her as she lounged on the couch, her back against the arm rest. His tone was causing her to feel things she shouldn’t be focussing on. What must it feel like to always be confident of your effect on people?

“Do you wanna come over?” she asked, treading lightly, not entirely anxious should he decline.

“I’ll be there in twenty.” He ended the call almost as abruptly as he had dialled it.

She remained where she sat for a moment, Greg’s text message still lighting up her screen. She wasn’t expecting for things to suddenly be so easy for her and it was strange how opening herself up to more possibilities could cause her to feel so immobile.

She would need to move at some point and as a helpless and as confused as she now felt, she knew it would look far too obvious to Chris if she bid to make herself up. She also didn’t really have the energy to do so. Lord, Chris really should have taken the out when he had the chance.

“Have I just walked into a teenage girl’s bedroom?” Chris asked, taking a look around as he entered the apartment not long afterwards. He clearly found the scene amusing although Sarah couldn’t under stand why. It was partly Shanna’s home after all. He should be used to girly mess. “What’s going on?”

“Shan has a date. I was helping her to get ready.” Sarah replied, humourously holding up the hairdryer like a trophy before dumping it back in her bedroom. “Sort of, actually. She doesn’t quite know if it’s a date date or a friend date.”

“I was told those didn’t exist.” Chris smirked, reaching for a bottle of water from her fridge.

“Well, she’s dressed up for one. Looks gorgeous.”

“I think you look gorgeous.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Chris, you don’t need to make any more effort, OK? You’re already in the apartment.”

“I think it bears repeating is all.”

He swallowed half the bottle of water before fixing her with a semi-quizzical stare. He tried to figure out what was going on as he watched her potter around the kitchen table, swiping something away into a cupboard, phone grasped in her hand. “What’s going on? You sounded weird on the phone and now you look like it as well.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” she answered far too quickly and tried to shrug it off but his body language told her he wasn’t buying it. She wasn’t sure what was bothering her more in this moment; him knowing her too well, or that he knew he knew her too well.

“OK, alright, well, it’s Friday night and I’m happy just hanging out and doing whatever but you can also talk to me as well. I’m not a monster.”

“It was her turn to look back at him, unsure of her next move or indeed his. she wondered if he was very likely regretting his decision to meet her now when twenty minutes in the opposite direction would take him to one of his favourite downtown dive bars. Instead, he rested against the side of the kitchen doorway, arms folded, a softness still present in his facial expressions. He seemed hesitant of what to say and she didn’t like the slight awkward air surrounding them. She didn’t want to venture into work-territory either.

“Do you want me to go, Sarah?”

She looked back up at him after a short spell spent staring down at her feet. “No. I don’t want you to leave. I’m just...there’s something...” she paused to re-evaluate her words. “You know what, it’s find. It’s nothing major. Of course I’m glad you’re here now.”

He pushed himself off from the counter and moved towards her, accepting of the greeting smile now covering her face, the bottle of water still in his grip. “Cool. Shall I follow your lead then, or...?”

“Do you wanna watch a movie or something?” she suggested, more casually than he would have liked. She didn’t know what to say to him now that all of her brain space was taken up with possibilities and wanting to call Audrey with the news. Chris hadn’t factored in watching a film but she seemed like she wanted a little peace and quiet and he had pretty much dived into the apartment as soon as she gave him the green light, eager as he was to see her without threat of Shanna walking in at any point.

“Movie sounds good.” He bobbed his head in agreement, content in their surroundings for now.

*

At some point towards the end of Searching, Chris quietly excused himself to go to the bathroom. Realising something was about to happen and not wanting to have to explain it to him after he returned, Sarah put the film on pause and headed into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. She had held him at an arm’s length for most of the night, the couch seeming longer somehow, but was now feeling a slight chill despite the thick sweater reaching midway down her thighs. He would no doubt have been cosy to snuggle up to but she was still pondering Greg’s message and couldn’t concentrate on much else.

Her demeanour hadn’t gone unnoticed by Chris. A couple of times he caught the glare from her phone screen illuminating her face from below and wondered who had gotten her attention this evening. He stopped himself from making an obvious joke and was disappointed that she hadn’t noticed him glance across at her several times during the movie. He wasn’t much interested in watching it. Telling the truth, he’d seen it via a DVD screener Matt had sent him months earlier but she’d mentioned she was looking forward to watching it and in all honesty, he had figured they would curl up together and he would have still gotten something out of it.

“Chris? Do you want a cup of tea?” she hollered from the kitchen doorway. No response for what seemed to be a long, long minute. She switched the kettle off and began pouring him one anyway. She could always drink two if he didn’t want it.

“Chris?” she shouted again.

She walked into the lounge to place the cups down and clocked the bathroom door ajar and seemingly empty. Maybe he left without telling her. In all fairness, she wouldn’t have been surprised or annoyed. She’d barely given him a moment of attention for the last two hours.

She wandered slowly down the hallway first passing Shanna’s bedroom before reaching her own and finding him stretched out across the bottom of her bed. She giggled and leaned on the side of the doorway. He looked rather comfortable. A little too comfortable. Maybe he wanted some company?

“What are you up to, Evans?”

He tilted his head up to find her standing there. “I was wondering how long it would take for you to notice I was gone.” He leaned up further and rested on one arm to fully take sight of her. His eyes appeared a little dopey, a thing that always seemed to give away his nefarious intentions. From the angle he was now lying in, the size of his bicep looked ridiculous. It could not have been an accidental move and she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t working for her.

“Are you bored? You can absolutely go if you have a better offer, I promise I won’t mind.” she offered by way of an apology but he stayed looking at her, not moving or responding to her offer. Being caught under his glare like this was unnerving to say the least. His hair looked a little messy from where he had been lying down yet he still made zero effort to move at all.

“I’m not bored.” He finally spoke, sincerity lacing his voice. “Are you? You seem distracted tonight.”

She didn’t know how to respond except to say he was right and to apologise again. She hadn’t figured out what to say to Greg yet so explaining her thought process to Chris wasn’t going to get her very far. It was times like this, when he was looking at her like that, that she wished she had the confidence to try and shut him up the old-fashioned way.

“Come here...” It was barely a whisper and she would have doubted he had spoken at all if it wasn’t for the hand he was now holding out towards her. He didn’t blink once.

She couldn’t refuse him and moved slowly to stand in the middle of his now-parted legs hanging off the end of the bed as he sat up. She watched as he closed his eyes when he felt her fingers smooth through his hair. There was something so calming about her touch, the deliberate graze of her nails sending little shocks down his spine. He wasn’t normally fussed by a woman playing with his hair even if occasionally he liked it when they pulled on it but something about her slow, tender touch was unlike anything he had felt before.

He moved his hands to the side of her thighs before pulling her legs down to either side of him. “I love looking at you from here.” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist making sure she couldn’t get away from him.

She moved in to kiss him, softly at first before she felt his tongue glide along her bottom lip, a wordless request for her to open up. He paused for a second, taking her in while she caught her breath before kissing her deeper than before. She pulled his t-shirt up from the hem and he reached up over his back to grab it and whip it off in record time. Not one of his proudest moments, it caught on his watch as he tried and failed to fling it to the side of them and he made a mental note to try that move again when he felt her chuckle against the side of his neck. He didn’t much mind being a dork in front of her. She knew he wasn’t as cool as he made himself out to be.

His hands found their way into her hair as he caressed the strands out of her face. He loved how silky it felt between his fingers and how faintly it smelled of coconut, her signature smell by now. Her hands gripped his wrists before slowly moving up his biceps and grasping at his shoulders while he pulled her down onto him to allow her to feel how hard he was becoming from her touch. He wanted to know she was only thinking about him. She felt him push up into her core and arousing her even more. His breaths were getting shorter while his hands moved down her sides in an attempt to hook into her leggings and drag them down and off her body. She moved a hand away from his shoulders to help him with his mission but a tapping sound soon broke her from her reverie.

“Wait.” she was still holding on to his arms to steady herself until things went quiet and his hands froze on her waist. Their breathing levelled out quickly and Chris threw her a confused look. “Do you hear something?”

“What?” He gasped. “No, nothing.” He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her back down to kiss him hard. His hands firmly gripped her ass until she was putting pressure back where he wanted it. She quickly forgot what she was thinking about while he moved her slowly along his growing length. He moved one hand up her side, dragging her sweater up with it so his fingers could finally feel her skin underneath. Her hands were pushing down on his chest a bit harder and in a moment that took her by total surprised he quickly flipped them over so she was lying underneath him, completely encased by his strong forearms.

Kissing her was so easy he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it sooner. Her lips were soft, some of the softest her had ever touched. He figured she kissed like she wanted to be kissed, and he wanted to kiss her back like no boy had ever kissed her before. It was soft and hot and breathy and turning him on immensely. Neither was trying to win a battle but rather seeking and enjoying their closeness, the sharing of this one single sensation, outside world be damned.

The prospect of being uninterrupted was giving him all kinds of ideas. Her breathing was hot against his skin and he knew she was in the zone with him. They’d never particularly been slow and up until this point, he hadn’t much minded but he knew there was some part of her she was holding back and honestly, it was thrilling to him that he was determined to figure her out.

Pinning her underneath, one hand reached down and grazed the inside of her thigh. A little more pressure just over her clit caused her breath to hitch with a sudden squeak ever so slightly until they smiled back into their kiss, tongues massaging together. Honestly, he could carry on doing this for hours if he knew for sure there would definitely be another time they had this opportunity.

She opened her eyes to find him resting so close above her and evidently relishing the way she was lightly tickling the back of his neck with her fingers. Another languid kiss followed before he caught the side of her neck between his teeth and pushed himself against her core, her wetness increasingly apparent to him. She was growing accustomed to his need to tease her like this that she almost missed the scraping sound that had returned, only this time it was louder and sounded like it was coming from just down her hallway. She would have loved nothing more than to continue focussing on the hot breath now ghosting across her neck and shoulders but, panicking, she grudgingly pushed him off her.

“Fuck, what is that?”

Helpless and slightly dazed, all he could do was watch her get up from the bed to stand by the door. With an ear close to the gap, she listened out for another sound. Quieter than before, she swore she heard what sounded like shuffling followed by something being dropped on the ground.

Spying him about to protest, she shook her head. “Nope. Nope, that’s definitely something.” She proceeded to tiptoe out of her room and down the hall towards the kitchen, her bare feet treading ever so lightly and managing to dodge the one creaky floorboard. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find but felt a brief surge of confidence knowing the vision of Captain America might alarm whoever was attempting to break in to her home and presumably try to murder them both. He was 6 foot and built like a tank, he could absolutely save them both if push came to shove.

Of course, no one was there that she could immediately see. Maybe something had fallen off the wall instead, or perhaps had been knocked over by a strong breeze coming in via the open window in the lounge? Maybe she was hearing things after all or maybe it was a burglar but they got startled and ran away when they heard footsteps inside. Maybe it was just their neighbour moving around next door but it sounded a little too close for that. She resorted to the only thing she could think of in that moment and picked up a spatula just in case.

Chris was reluctantly putting his t-shirt back on when he followed quietly behind her, shaking his leg to relieve some of the tension in his boxers. Something banged again but this time she was sure it was coming from outside of her front door. He could now hear it as well but wasn’t entirely sure what she was hoping to accomplish with a plastic spatula in her hand.

She held her finger up to her lips to stop him from making any noise and peered through the peephole. She couldn’t see anything. Gingerly, she decided to open the door and jumped backwards when there, on the ground hunched up and leaning against the door frame, was a rathe intoxicated Shanna. Her bag had been emptied in a hurry like she’d been trying to locate her keys, and her coat was falling off her shoulders. She was half-asleep.

Chris snorted from somewhere close behind Sarah unable to contain himself, instantly familiar with the view in front of him. Sarah exhaled with some kind of relief that they were safe from a mass-murderer.

“I don’t believe it...” she spoken quietly.

“I do!” Chris could barely stop the laughter coming out now.

She and Chris moved to help her into the apartment, each grabbing her under one arm. Chris bared the majority of her weight while Sarah carried her bag and as a many contents as she could find. They managed to manoeuvre her into her bedroom where she promptly fell forward, head first, onto her bed,

“Fuckin’ waster,” he laughed heartily before Sarah punched his arm to stop him  from waking her. the room fell silent for a moment before the unmistakeable sound of Shan snoring took over. Chris closed the door behind them before following Sarah to the kitchen where she collected the remaining items that had fallen out of her bag. Picking up her phone, she checked for scratches.

“Well at least she didn’t lose it this time,” she held up the mobile to him but noticed he couldn’t stop grinning. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” he shook his head. “I just wish I’d taken a picture of her. Scott would have a heart attack. Always told her she couldn’t handle her drink!”

“i don’t know how you’d explain getting hold of a photo of her.”

“Oh yeh, good point.” he chuckled in reponse. They regarded each other for a moment, Chris clearly hopeful they could pick up from where they left off.

“I think you should go,” Sarah thought apologetically.

He paused before answering, expecting her to have been joking. “Why? She’s passed out on her bed. She’ll be asleep for hours. Do you have any idea how many times I have seen her like this?”

“Have you any idea how many times I have seen her like this? She’ll wake up in the middle of the night and get into bed with me and it’d be a lot easier to handle if I didn’t have to explain to her why her bother was also there.”

“Sarah, we could throw a rave and she wouldn’t wake up.”

He was making no effort to move, instead fixing her with a stare waiting for her to recognise how ridiculous she sounded. His hands pinched at his hips and he looked a foot taller than before

“Seriously, Chris, you’re just going to have to leave.”

He took a couple of steps towards her, bare feet padding along the hard, cold floor. “I haven’t see you all week.” He moaned, hands reaching out for her hoping the memory of where they had been would be enough to convince her he should stay.

“That’s not true. You saw me the other day.” It was a weak response. Even she knew that.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

She offered back nothing. She had no response. He was disappointed and equally as frustrated with his lack of a decent comeback. He should definitely stay. He should be rocking her world right this moment and whispering filthy things into her ear but instead, all he could do was stand there and shake his head in defeat. When he made eye contact with her again, she looked somehow smaller in some way and he found it hard to continue being frustrated with her. He understood what she was doing as much as he didn’t want to.

Resigned, he shuffled towards her and embraced her in a hug. She felt him semi-hard against her tummy, briefly doubting her choices. It stirred something exciting inside her to think she could make him feel that way and mentally chastised Shanna for cock-blocking her. She felt bad for kicking him out like this.

“I promise I’ll make it up to you.” she whispered.

He loosely pulled away from their hug and looked down at her. He playfully raised an eyebrow and looked down at her lips, still pink and swollen, before chastely planting a kiss on them.

“I am absolutely going to hold you to that.”

*

Shan finally made an appearance the following morning looking like death warmed up. She’d somehow managed to remove her clothes but had a pyjama top on backwards and her hair was sticking out in all directions. She had Sarah’s expert eyeliner and a false lash smudged down one cheek.

Sarah was eating breakfast and checking the news on her phone when she saw the creature from the black lagoon emerge into her kitchen. Stifling a laugh at the sorry sight standing before her, she felt a pang of sympathy seeing every step cause her pain. Shan just pouted at her before taking a seat at the kitchen table, resting her forehead in her hands while Sarah fixed her a glass of juice and some aspirin. She took it gratefully before groaning.

“Remind me never to do shots again.” she stressed. Sarah knew it wouldn’t last, not with that Boston blood coursing through her veins. “Was Chris here last night?”

Sarah froze, a sudden ring clouding her ears. “Erm, no, he wasn’t.” She turned to put her bowl in the sink and tried to hide any blushes. She didn’t know who felt more like shit in this exact moment.

“Oh I could have sworn I heard him is all.” Shan said, more to herself than to anyone else. “God, it’s good he wasn’t. He’d have a ball game seeing me in that state. How awful was I?”

“Not very,” Sarah lied again.

“How did I even get home?” she asked, trying to piece together the flashes of memories that kept racing through her mind.

“Um, I think your friends dropped you off in a taxi and you somehow managed to get up the stairs but then I guess you couldn’t find your keys...?” Shan managed a puzzled look. “You were slumped against the front door.” She refilled her glass with juice. “You’ve been in bed for, like, twelve hours.”

“Shit, we must have started early.”

“Well it happens to the best of us.” Sarah sat next to her and pushed a loose piece of hair out of her sweaty, red face. “Your hair looks OK! I don’t think there is anything stuck in it this time.”

Shanna laughed for the first time before her head panged in revenge.

“So? Did anything happen with Robbie?” Sarah asked, a cheeky grin crossing her face. By the look on Shanna’s face, the answer was a resounding “no” but it could very well have been the alcohol-induced hurricane currently running though her head.

“Well, it was a great night regardless. You’d love the bar. I think we ran into that guy, the porter from your hospital? Pat something? Did you know he plated in a band?”

“Um, no, not at all. Wow.” Sarah was trying to picture Patrick with an array of different instruments to see which suited him before remembering the awkward time he attempted to drum Phil Collins’ ‘In The Air Tonight’ with two scalpels. “Actually, he does seem the type. I’ll have to let Audrey know. She’ll love this.”

“He sounded pretty decent. It’s not just punk music or heavy rock. I think we should all go one night. Maybe as part of Mom’s birthday week.” Shanna perked up a little, proud of the idea that had materialised in her head against all odds. “It’s amazing what people can do when they put some effort in. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Where you might be now if you just took a chance.”

Following a night of heavy drinking, Sarah wasn’t expecting such an existential conversation at this point in the day. But it was a good point regardless. She grabbed her phone from the table and typed out a message to Greg.

“Yes. I’m in.”

*

[brookefm-a]

( twenty one , cis woman , she/her )  ✉ ― hey babes, have you met BROOKE MORENO. they’re vacationing here, a few villas down from where you’re staying. you might hear COCAINE MODEL BY ZHU playing from their villa, it’s their favourite song. yes, they hear that they look like ISABELLE MATHERS alot, actually - it’s really uncanny. their friends back home in MANHATTAN, NY say that if they were on a tv show, their trope would be THE STEPFORD SNARKER , how funny is that? ✎ ley , nineteen , she/her , est.

hi besties !! it’s ley here with this extremely chaotic  &  unhinged intro ! it’s truly an absolute disaster even after i spent an hour trying to make it better :)) anyways , i’ve decided to drop venice ( rip to real one ) bc i’ve just really lost muse  &  i’ve been so busy recently that i can’t handle two muses !! this is obviously a repost ( with a few very minor updates ) so feel free to completely ignore this .... but if you don’t , proceed with caution bc this is a mess. 

𝐈  . 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬  :

FULL  NAME   :  brooklyn paige guiliana moreno  . NICKNAMES   :  just brooke .... her childhood nickname was peanut but call her that and you will receive a christian louboutin heel to the crotch . AGE  :   twenty - one   .     DATE  OF  BIRTH   :  august 4th  .     ASTROLOGY  SIGN   :  leo   .     GENDER   :  cis  woman   .     SEXUAL  ORIENTATION   :  bisexual  .   PRONOUNS   :  she  /  her  /  hers   .   OCCUPATION  :  socialite , model , influencer . HOMETOWN  :  manhattan , new york  . EYE  COLOR   :  green   .     HAIR   :  brunette , naturally wavy but she straightens or curls it every day. MOTHER  :  nadia moreno . FATHER  :  lorenzo moreno . SIBLINGS  :  caleb moreno . POSITIVE  TRAITS   :  gregarious  ,  freewheeling  ,  intuitive  ,  altruistic  ,  vehement .   NEGATIVE TRAITS  :  irascible , temerarious , capricious , covetous , flighty . AESTHETICS   :   hearts drawn on fogged glass , a golden ring on every finger , sunlight beaming through the curtains in the early morning , ruination spilling from cherry stained lips , lipstick stains on old vanity mirrors , sundays spent entangled within egyptian cotton sheets , overflowing glasses of bubbly , heels clicking against a marble floor , a honey toned voice spewing harsh words , cheeks stained a shade of natural peach , tanned skin against white sheets . CHARACTER INSP  :  idk what it is w me and always picking my childhood icons as inspo.... anyways , brooke is mainly based off of alex russo  &  paris hilton with maybe a dash of brooke davis  &  blair waldorf .

click here to take a lil trip to her pinterest !!

𝐈𝐈 .  𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝  :

tw : revenge porn ( leaking of nudes ) , stalking , ptsd  &  anxiety.

       on august fourth , 1999 , brooklyn paige guiliana moreno was born to nadia  &  lorenzo moreno . she was their second born child , the baby of the family with an older brother by two years. born in milano , italy , but they moved to manhattan before she turned one , so she has no memory of it. as a child , brooke did everything her parents asked of her. she was people pleaser , and she thrived off the attention and validation. one day after seeing toddlers & tiaras on tv , brooke begged her parents to let her do pageants. and she very quickly moved up from just beauty pageants , into the real world of fashion and modeling. she loved the glitz and glam of it , and the way people would praise her for it. by the time she was 18 and finally able to focus full time on modeling , she was one of the top high fashion models in the world.

         brooke met her first boyfriend her junior year of high school , and she fell head over heels for him. in hindsight , she knows it was more puppy love than real true love , but back then she had been so blinded by her feelings for him that she thought it would truly be something that could last. they were together for all of high school , until one party right after they graduated. they were playing spin the bottle ( bc ofc they were ) and brooke ended up having to kiss his best friend. she thought it had all been fun and games , but apparently , he was infuriated by what happened , and they got in a fight and broke up the next day. after their break up , he leaked her nudes to the media for a pretty large check to ‘ get back at her ’. thankfully , he was too much of an idiot to do it anonymously , and it was quickly found out that he was the leak. he was stripped of his college scholarships for football and expelled from princeton before his freshman year of college had even begun.

         unfortunately , brooke’s troubles didn’t end there. that same summer , her two closest friends turned on her as well. they sold lies about her to the media , twisting the story to put the blame on brooke , claiming that she had cheated on her boyfriend by sleeping with his best friend. they were also always giving tips to the paparazzi about her location. and there was one paparazzi that at first , always seemed to linger in the background whenever she was out in public. she would spot him out of the corner of her eye , but she’d hadn’t really though much about it until he started following her to first apartment ( she had been so excited to finally have a place all to herself , and was crushed when it was tainted ). the first time he did it , he just sat outside on the street , watching her enter the building but not going any further than that. things escalated very , very quickly from there. it seemed that every time she would leave the building , he would be there , snapping photos , taking videos  &  hounding her with incredibly personal questions. one night , she had arrived home from a photo shoot , wanting nothing more than to just do her skincare and pass out in bed. there had been nothing off as she had entered her apartment , nothing that could have set off an alarm in her head. but as soon as she entered her room , she found the man that had been harassing her for weeks , looking through her things just hoping to find a story he could sell to the media. she was able to get a restraining order on him after that , but since he hadn’t physically harmed her , no criminal charges stuck.

          she’d felt violated and betrayed , and so , so scared that she was no longer able to live alone. she gets really uncomfortable in large crowds or when she’s alone late at night , because she’s terrified that one day he’ll show back up. for a few months , brooke refused to go therapy because she was insistent that the events had no effect on her , even though it was obvious that she had. she wasn’t sleeping at night ( and still struggles with insomnia to this day ), she was barely leaving the house unless it was for work , and she had pushed away all of her friends. she finally agreed to go after after she had passed out from exhaustion in the middle of a photo shoot, and she’s improved a lot since then , but she does still have some lasting ptsd and anxiety. she also has a really hard time truly trusting people now , because she’s always scared she’ll let someone in just for them to sell out all her secrets.

𝐈𝐈𝐈 .  𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲  :

she can kinda be a tough nut to crack , but underneath the hardcore closed of exterior , she has a very bubbly personality , is very free spirited , she has no filter , and she’s extremely animated . she also cannot stay still for more than 5 minutes. literally the energizer bunny personified

okay .... she is lowkey a huge attention whore. there’s really has no excuse why she is either she just ... sucks lmao. but she really just thrives off of having all eyes on her , and has a naturally alluring energy. also has a major tendency to stir drama , even if it’s unintentional. she’s the type to be like “ i’m not a fan of drama i’ll just stay out of it ” but then is always the FIRST to ask for all the tea whenever shit goes down

she’s also very much a serial dater. in her pea brain attention = love so she’ll flock to wherever she gets that. she likes the validation of relationships but hates the commitment , so pretty much all of her relationships end before they ever really start. it’s something the media has caught onto , and she’s criticized quite a lot for it.

she does a pretty good job at hiding her ptsd , but please just .... don’t sneak up on her or surprise her bc she will freak out ( nd then either get irrationally angry or completely shut down bc she doesn’t know how else to handle these emotions lol )

she is a hardcore adrenaline junkie , she does so much shit just for the thrill. for her eighteenth birthday , she went cliff diving in mexico , then for her twenty first , unlike most ppl who just go to a club  &  get drunk , she went sky diving. she just holds a lot of emotion in , so anything that will release all of that or make her feel anything other than the things she’s avoiding are very much welcomed.

brooke once sent nasa a 6 page persuasive essay trying to convince them to send her to space. included in said essay were multiple images of herself because “ i’m a star and i should be documented as such ” unfortunately for her , they never responded :(

she would not be caught dead looking unpresentable .... she’ll do a full face of make up even if she’s waking up at 4am. and don’t even bother to ask her to go out after she’s done her skin care routine .... there’s no chance

god complex but sometimes it takes the day off  &  she’ll be insecure as fuck. honestly the conceitedness is pretty much just a defense mechanism to hide how much she actually hates herself lmao very “ i feel like i’m the worst so i act like i’m the best ”