#no clue where ill put it yet.

[papasquiznak]

im going to screen record all of voltron. (not for monetary purposes.)

[stsgluver]

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟑 — gojo satoru

synopsis. nobara is ill and what better way to spend your day off than trying to figure out who your teacher's high school girlfriend is?

wc. 3.5k

tags. gojo x reader, fluff, one suggestive joke, reader is in gojo's class, implied utahime x shoko, only half proofread

a/n. it's nearly midnight and im so tired and I have to be up at 6 tomorrow but I needed to get this done. I hope there's not too many mistakes <3 the ending is kind of shit but idc :) jk i do pls like it

previous part / next part / series masterlist

“are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”

nobara lazily lifted her head from beneath her duvet, orange bangs clinging to her sweaty forehead as she let out a series of harsh coughs. megumi winced from the doorway, inching back ever so slightly - he'd already brought in a couple bottles of water and a box of tissues, he wasn't looking to contract whatever flu-like disease she had caught.

she rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle antics and raised a weak thumbs up. “go on fushiguro, i know how much you're dying to spend the afternoon with itadori and sensei."

“haha,” megumi uttered with the most sarcastic tone he could muster. on second thoughts, maybe being sick for a week wouldn't be so bad. with nobara gone, there was no buffer for his teacher and classmate to pester. “call me if you get worse, you know the second years are useless.” 

nobara gave the younger boy a quick salute and small smile, “yes boss.”

she dropped her head back into her pillow and waited till she heard the door click shut till she slipped a little less than elegantly out of bed. whilst yes, there was no denying that she was definitely sick, she also had a mission she couldn’t give up on.

in the three weeks, four days and an unknown number of hours since she had found the dvd of her teacher in his youth, she had been putting all of her free time into trying to find you. megumi had been a dead end when she’d tried asking him about you again and, although nobara knew he had a soft spot for yuuji, she didn’t trust the pink haired boy to treat this situation sensitively.

initially, she’d even considered asking gojo about it but she decided against that pretty quickly. that could get awkward very quickly and she still had at least two years at the school. 

then, she’d moved onto searching through the school for traces of the alumni. all she’d managed to find was a single photo; one that included both kyoto and tokyo students. you were tucked into gojo’s side with your arm around shoko. geto was there too: him and gojo side by side as they always were in their teenage years. all of you were grinning and genuinely happy. where had it all gone so drastically wrong?

nobara wondered if it was geto’s fault that gojo’s class had been all but erased – an effort to forget that the worst curse user to live had in fact once been an aspiring sorcerer.

her next plan (and one she hadn’t full considered the logistics of completely just yet) was to watch every single video on the dvd because surely at some point, there would be some clue of who you were or where you’d gone. 

and even if there wasn’t, what else could she possibly do to amuse herself whilst she was on bed rest?

with a huff, she grabbed her laptop and dropped back onto her bed, tucking herself under the covers. opening up her laptop (her password being ‘12345’), she clicked unpause on a video she’d started the evening prior.

“–and that’s it basically.”

shoko waved her hands around, sat on yaga’s chair at the front of the classroom with a blackboard filled with scribbles behind her. it wasn’t anything legible, more like swirls and stars and nobara thinks that, if she looked hard enough, in the corner were two little stick men: gojo and geto. an unlit cigarette sat between her lips as she kicked her legs up onto her teacher’s desk. yaga clearly wasn’t in the room. 

“that made no sense whatsoever but woo! shoko!” you clapped, out of frame of the camera but enthusiastically nonetheless. the aforementioned girl narrowed her eyes at you across the classroom.

“that’s why i made a video, for you to look back on duh,” she tsked, nodding her head towards the camera. “plus it is easy. i expected dumb and dumber not to understand but you?” shoko patted away a few non-existent tears, taking on the role of disappointed parent and their once star student.

except you’d never really excelled in a class with two prodigies and shoko actually loved having the upperhand in at least one area of sorcery.

shoko picked up the camera, holding it upwards to give a full view of her outfit and hair – like it was any different to any other day she attended school. she swivelled the spinny chair over to an occupied desk, slotting next to it and moving the camera so that it captured all of you in the frame. gojo was sat down in the seat, glasses propped up onto his forehead as you sat sideways on his lap, unsuccessfully trying to decipher shoko’s teachings on the board.

“understanding reversed cursed techniques is way harder than understanding cursed techniques,” you tried to justify, pointing to the board that showed the squiggles that ‘symbolised’ performing a reversed curse technique. stealing gojo’s glasses and popping them on your own face, you popped a quick kiss to the side of his head, “plus, why waste my energy? you’ll figure it out so i never have to.”

“the things i do for you,” gojo sighed happily, dropping his head down onto your shoulder as his arms looped around your waist. the orange-haired sorcerer could practically hear yuuji’s gasps at the simple displays of affection and she almost felt bad for watching some of the clips without him.

almost.

nobara was never one for romance – drama, such as the fight between gojo and naoya, that was her scene. but even she couldn’t help herself from smiling at the teenage love between the two of you. maybe she should give her teacher more credit – there was more to the six foot two man than just his over the top personality and questionable teaching methods.

“this is meant to be an educational video! be less couple-y!” shoko complained, scowling and shuffling away on her chair again.

“oh, we could make it very educational,” gojo wiggled his eyebrows, the devious smirk on his lips only widening at your flushed expression as you tried to hit his chest. failing, though, as he isolated his cursed technique to uphold a thin barrier between your hand and the material of his uniform.

there was the teacher she knew – keen to annoy even those he loved the most.

shoko must’ve ended the video out of spite after his comment, because nobara found herself staring at a black screen. 

all that she’d learnt so far was that you couldn’t perform a reverse cursed technique as a teenager. maybe that was what killed you? if you were even dead, that is. but given the damage that curses can inflict on sorcerers, whether or not you were able to execute a reversed cursed technique could literally be the difference between walking away from a fight a little tired or in a body bag.

nobara coughed several times, picking up the open bottle of water from her bedside table and taking a sip to try and ease her scratchy throat. scrunching up her nose at the slight sting of swallowing, she clicked the next available video, not putting much thought into her choice.

it was you and nanami in frame in a library by the looks of it but if it was on campus, nobara didn’t know where. christmas decorations decorated the shelving units behind you – tinsels of gold, red and green, and hanging snowflakes. you were both wearing your usual uniform but you also had a santa hat on and tinsel lining your jacket.

“we’re the only two on campus,” you said quietly, “because everyone else’s parents loved them–”

“we couldn’t afford to go back for the holidays,” nanami cut you off, without glancing up from what he was writing. being from two non-sorcerer families was a disadvantage normally in terms of status and inherited techniques, but holidays were somehow worse. 

gojo had offered to help you out with a ticket back to your parents and had even extended an invitation for you to stay with him but you didn’t want to leave nanami alone (and although he didn’t seem grateful, he was glad you were there).

“it’s fine. academic comeback time,” you held up a book to the screen. being in a class with three exceptional sorcerers meant that studies were often sidelined to try and improve and perfect your techniques. holidays were usually your opportunity to catch up on the missed classwork and homework you’d fallen behind on.

nanami less so – if anything he was reading ahead. tokyo had never been renowned for academic scores until he’d come along.

“i don’t get why the camera needs to be here,” nanami complained.

“to record us study! it’s motivational.”

“sure,” nanami hummed quietly, reading over your shoulder at the work you’d already completed prior to setting up the camera. “that’s wrong. this is simple mutipli–” he paused at the sound of rustling and his brows furrowed as he tried to peer round the bookshelves. 

“merry christmas!” 

nobara snickered as nanami jumped at the sudden voice and appearance of three people behind him. gojo and geto were capable of masking their cursed energy (and shoko’s) so that they wouldn’t be noticed slipping into the library. although gojo had nearly screwed that up by pulling out a chair trying to trip up geto.

“ieiri!” you slipped out from your seat, running up and hugging your classmate. in the process, the camera got knocked so it was facing the ceiling. nobara frowned as she turned the brightness up on her laptop as if though that would somehow bring everyone back into grame. in the periphery of the screen she could make out just the heads and foreheads of the student sorcerers.

“hi satoru, missed you too satoru, so glad you came to see me satoru,” the white haired sorcerer pouted at the lack of attention and nobara is sure someone responded to him but the audio is muffled by two voices closer to the camera’s microphone.

“here!” haibara slipped into the seat next to nanami that you had occupied moments prior and held up a small wrapped box with red ribbon tied neatly in a bow. “i picked it up on the way. merry christmas nanamin!”

“thanks yu,” nanami smiled softly at his classmate. well that’s what nobara thought he did anyways, his eyes lifted into half crescents but she wasn’t actually sure what his mouth was doing out of frame. she’d never seen the blond so happy from a simple gesture.

she clicked off the video even though it still had thirty seconds left to go. it wasn’t much fun just watching people’s foreheads and she highly doubted that nanami was about to fix the camera’s position.

so you were from a non-sorcerer family and possibly not able to use reverse cursed technique. it wasn’t much but facts were still facts.

there was a little more deliberation before she chose her next video, settling herself back into her cushions as she waited for it to load.

the screen was suddenly very bright and nobara winced, turning it down as the surroundings came into focus. it was the inside of an arcade and the camera was pointed directly at one of those claw machines. inside were different sized plushies of spiderman and haibara was the one controlling the claw.

nobara could vaguely make out everyone’s reflection in the glass – to the left of haibara was geto (who was also the one holding onto the camera), gojo and you, and to his right was shoko, nanami and maybe also utahime? shoko had her arm around a blue haired girl either way.

“no! so close haibara,” you patted the youngest boy on the shoulder gently as the plushie he’d managed to pick up slipped from the claw’s clutches before it could be dropped down the chute and retrieved.

“can i try?” gojo asked and, from the annoyed groans, nobara assumed it wasn’t the first time he’d interjected.

“no, he’ll get it this time,” geto encouraged and gojo flashed him a look of disbelief. 

“if gojo wants a go he can have it!” haibara tried to step away from the machine but nanami halted him, slotting several more coins in the machine.

“take your go yu.”

“i’ll get you a slushie if you win,” shoko called out, clapping her hands together as he accepted his fate, hesitantly pressing down on the buttons as he peered through the side of the machine to get a better angle.

“haibara, haibara.” all of them were chanting his name now, and that was enough of a boost for him to finally get one of the plushies over the barrier and down the chute. the camera shook unsteadily as geto jumped and six of them crowded the youngest in a joint hug.

nobara could see yuuji in haibara and megumi in nanami and herself in shoko and she had to stop herself from tearing up. nanami and shoko seemed like strangers these days and she couldn’t even imagine waking up and yuuji not being the first one to greet her outside her room. 

we’ve got a mission here, she reminded herself, shaking her head lightly before moving onto the next clip.

“utahime, say hi,” you lowered the camera to the kyoto sorcerer’s height. she was sat cross-legged on the floor with a jacket flung haphazardly over her head to try and block out the sun that beamed down.

“hi!” utahime waved, smiling as you dropped down next to her. in her hands was a partially made daisy chain that she’d started to entertain herself whilst she waited for the tokyo students. despite being in kyoto, she’d always chosen to join yourself and shoko at events over her own classmates.

“who do you think is going to win the exchange event this year?” you asked with a raised brow and utahime grimaced.

“don’t make me compliment him.”

“are you implying that our edge is not because of me?” you looked at the camera with a disgusted expression, like you had the power to outshine the gojo satoru, she rolled her eyes – gojo’s dramatics were rubbing off on you. “for that i’m telling ieiri. you may be her girlfriend–”

utahime hit your arm and her eyes darted around for anyone that could’ve heard (like you were not sat alone in a field together whilst the others warmed up), “shut up! we’re not like that…”

you nodded with a condescending hum. “then kindly could you please stop calling her till three in the morning, some of us need our beauty sleep.”

“you’re only ever up at three am because you’re sneaking back from gojo’s dorm,” she retorted with a pointed look. you opened your mouth to defend yourself 

“true,” you jumped at shoko’s voice, swivelling your neck around to find the third piece of your trio standing behind you. shoko gestured towards your uniform jacket, “and if she pulls down her collar there’s a massive hickey i had to help cover up this morning.”

utahime erupted into a fit of giggles and you eyed the camera like it was some sitcom and you were breaking the fourth wall.

“you’re such an asshole.”

shoko pushed in between the two of you to make herself the middle. “you love me.”

nobara frowned as the video ended. while it wasn’t overly helpful, it reaffirmed the seriousness of your relationship with her teacher… but that was obvious from the lovesick heart eyes he constantly had in every video you were together.

although, she would have to show it to maki – the two had suspicions about the kyoto teacher and tokyo healer and this all but confirmed that they were right. 

nobara scrolled down till she found a thumbnail of you, geto and gojo sat around a table of food.

“zenin naoya,” you started, chopsticks in one hand as you held a bowl of food in the other. gojo pretended to vomit at the mention of his name. “yes toru, appropriate response, but have you heard about him and the kamo girl?”

geto nodded with a mouth full. “the one who studied abroad?”

“yes! her,” you waved your chopsticks in his direction, “anyways, she cheated on him.”

the dark haired sorcerer made a sound of shock, “they were together together?”

you nodded enthusiastically, offering gojo some of your rice. “mhmm, they got together new years eve.”

“that did not last long,” gojo snickered. nobara peered at the date in the corner of the screen in a retro, yellow font; 15 january 2006.

“best part? it’s not even the first time,” you revealed, picking up some salmon sushi off of gojo’s plate and quickly eating it.

“stop,” geto gasped and nobara was shocked. this man was a war criminal now, and yet ten years ago he seemed so far from it, gossiping like he was a teenage girl.

“which like i don’t get,” you frowned. “i dont know why he’s trying to save face over some two week old relationship. especially if she’s already cheated multiple times.”

“he’s just desperate because it’s the first girl to ever want to actually be with him.”

“oh yeah she really wants to be with him,” gojo uttered sarcastically with a sparkle in his eyes. he would have a party at the downfall of the zenin.

“are they staying together?”

“i think so,” you nodded, holding a hand over your mouth as you spoke and finished your mouthful. “it’s what me and shoko told him to do, well shoko. he facetimed shoko.” you clarified following gojo’s less than pleased expression. nobara didn’t doubt that naoya had caused some tension in your relationship (though she refused to believe it was ever because you had been interested in him) and she wished that you’d switch the topic solely onto that. that was the sort of drama she was after.

“youre telling me he facetimed ieiri to tell her he’d been cheated on?” geto could bearly finish the question without laughing and he shot gojo a look. “odds on him trying to make yn jealous.”

you couldn’t stop yourself from snorting. “oh yeah because hearing all that made me want to leave satoru for that thing.” sarcasm or not, your words were taken literally by your boyfriend who draped all one hundred and ninety centimetres of himself across your body. “oh my god you’re so heavy.”

“it’s just my love for you in physical form. don’t be mean,” he whined.

nobara didn’t even have the energy to laugh quietly at the pathetic nature of her teacher as she felt herself drifting off. it was fine, she thought, only a quick power nap. she’d earned it, watching all those clips expended lots of energy.

���kugisaki?” gojo gently knocked at the young girl’s door. he’d left yuuji and megumi to do laps to check nobara was still alive and well. the illness had made its way through half the school already and while it obviously wasn’t something fatal, he knew better than to take any risks.

he knocked again and waited thirty seconds before he opened the door enough just to peek in and–

“satoru.”

gojo felt his heart drop at the sound of your voice. one he hadn’t heard in almost two years and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so unsteady and thrown off guard. the mere sound of your voice had startled him and gotten more of an upper hand than any curse he’d ever had to exorcise.

although his world had stilled, reality continued on and he was forced to hear himself hum in response. he didn’t have to see the video to vividly remember the day, to remember the smell of the grass and your perfume that were coaxing him into a nap that would make you both late to yaga’s lecture.

“do you think we’ll still be together once high school is over?”

“hope so,” he murmured, half asleep, and gojo wished his younger self was more aware, telling you how much he wanted to be with you, savouring every second he had in your presence rather than sleeping it away. 

like that could’ve changed the outcome.

slipping into her room, gojo lifted the laptop off of her sleeping figure (definitely still alive and breathing). with a press of a button, the disk popped out and he set the device onto the ground as he contemplated what to do.

he could break it in half, make it seem like an accident that nobara hadn’t noticed in her ill state. or he could use his cursed technique and completely eviscerate it from existence.

or maybe he could keep it.

gojo gave nobara one last glance as he silently closed her door once more, grateful for the blindfold he wore as he headed back outside to his students.

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts @maliakealoha @cherrypieyourface @k4romis @monsieurgucchi @bofadeezs @777userz @polarbvnny @chonkercatto @tenshis-cake @haitanibros0007 @ba-ks @liaurokodaki @urfavvirg0 @lofasofabread @r0ckst4rjk @vee-ai @aiikuraa @melileli0001 @rinshoe @vinivave @yell0wdreams @sukunasleftkneecap @malikazz243 @sad-darksoul @giannitaa @maliciousmace @name-insert @splxtscreen

this tag list is insane ty all for the support

[klaus-littlestwolf]

Lost Boys Sick!Mate Headcanon

(For whoever requested a Sick Mate Headcanon for the Lost Boys, I hope you enjoy this)

David

•David wants to change you immediately

•He hates seeing you sick, miserable or in any kind of pain and while most people wouldn’t believe David can be sympathetic, for you he very much is

•He has been trying to get you to turn for a long time and while this is a convenient way of convincing you, he really just wants you to get better

•David hasn’t been sick in…several hundred years. He’s the oldest out of the whole pack and so he remembers sickness the least of all of them, the only thing he can relate it to is not feeding for a long amount of time and he knows how painful that gets to be

•He would lay with you in the bed in the cave, whether you live with them in the cave yet or not, that is where you will be staying and you have no choice, he won’t let you be alone while you’re ill

•He often gives you massages whenever your muscles are achy, he knows how good it makes you feel and it makes him feel like he’s able to do something to help you, even if it’s just to relieve a small bit of your discomfort

•He’ll definitely make Marko go out to get you food, though he doesn’t know what kind of food since you keep insisting that you aren’t hungry

•David wants to care for you, he just has no clue how and if you weren’t sick as a dog, it might even be adorable how frazzled he is

Overall Grade of Care: 4/10

Dwayne

•Dwayne would be a major worrier every single time you get sick

•While he doesn’t remember what it’s like to personally be sick, he does remember his younger sister being sick when he was human and dying of a fever, so every time you’re even remotely warm he attempts to put you in an ice bath

•When you are bed ridden he is sure to make you stay in the cave, he’s always by your side and will often sit and read to you until you drift off to sleep

•He tries to keep you fed as much as you’ll allow with your upset stomach and he gives you plenty of water, to the point you wonder if vampires can survive being waterboarded cause you’re ready to kill him

•Dwayne is very much like David, he doesn’t know how to take care of a human that’s sick and he doesn’t understand that sometimes you just need to let an illness run it’s course

•Eventually he would buy some medicine at the store (Marko’s recommendation) and give it to you. He’s completely stunned by how quickly you finally fall asleep with how badly you’ve been coughing but the medicine works

Overall Grade of Care: 5.5/10

Paul

•Paul is chill when you get sick, he knows most of the time it’s just a little cold

•He gives you a few shots of whiskey and smokes a joint with you until you pass out, most of the time you wake up feeling better

•When you don’t however, he becomes frantic

•He will run around like a human having a manic episode. He makes sure you’re as comfortable as you can be, and if you’re not he goes to the store and buys more pillows and softer blankets. Hell get you new pajamas and more boxes of tissues than you’ll ever use

•He cleans the entire area you’re in as best he can in a cave, trying to get rid of germs that could make you sick all over again. It would be funny if you didn’t want to strangle him for moving so supernaturally fast that he makes you even more dizzy which makes your stuffy head hurt more

•He tries not to bother you too much, getting you to sleep as much as he can because apparently humans only heal when they’re sleeping so you need to sleep until you feel better

•He doesn’t quite understand that there’s a limit to how much NyQuil you can take

•Paul means well and he wants to help, he just goes too far with it most of the time

Overall Grade of Care: 7/10

Marko

•Marko is probably the best of the boys to have taking care of you when you’re ill

•He gets you medicine immediately and actually reads the instructions to give you the correct dosage

•He ensures you are comfortable in the bed, making sure to keep the blankets on when you’re cold and removing them if and when your fever gets too high

•When you’re too warm, which seems to be most of the time, he will strip to his boxers and crawl into bed with you, his cold skin making you feel better almost instantly

•He goes to the store and gets you whatever you want but also picks some things for you to make you feel better. He gets you your favorite tea bags to make you hot tea, the Chamomile helping to calm you and be able to sleep better, he also gets you some cans of coke to sip on when your stomach is upset

•He makes you soup everyday to keep you eating, even if you cant hold too much down, it’s not too heavy on your stomach

•Marko will also rent movies (and by rent I mean take them from Max’s store when he’s not looking) to bring back for you two to watch together to keep you entertained

•Marko was a human not too long ago, Paul being the only one younger than him, and he remembers very well how to take care of sick people, he is very good at making sure you get well as quickly as you can

Overall Grade of Care: 9.5/10

Lost Boys Masterlist

[hoe4hotchner]

With blood on his hands | [A.H]

Pairing: UnSub!Hotch x gn!reader CW: Dark. This story contains descriptions of graphic violence, murder, mental illness, grief, and emotional distress. Dark themes, betrayal, loss of control, and fear, kidnapping, physical aggression, helplessness. WC: 5.2k

Please don't request a part 2 unless you have a very specific idea, my brain physically couldn't come up with more plot for this.

           The house was quiet. Too quiet. Bearing signs of life throughout the whole layout of the building, yet the disturbing truth of what had happened made you uneasy.

           It was the same scene they’d encountered twice already - an all-American family, slaughtered in their home, with no apparent struggle, no clear motive. A mother, a father, and their young son, all lying lifeless, their blood staining the carpets, their lives ruthlessly cut short.

           You stood beside Rossi, your hands clad in gloves, and a frown etched upon your face as you surveyed the scene. The scent of blood and suffering hung heavy in the air, choking your senses. You had seen your fair share of horrors, but this was different. This unsub was different.

           "Third one this week," Rossi murmured beside you, his voice gruff with exhaustion and irritation, feeling the weight of the case starting to take its toll. "We need to catch this guy before he strikes again."

           You nodded, eyes scanning the room as your mind worked through the details. This unsub wasn’t just killing; he was destroying. The brutality of the murders suggested rage - deep and personal rage. There was a familiarity to the way everything was laid out that you couldn't put a finger on.

           You stepped over to the nightstand, where the mother’s jewelry lay scattered. Your eyes caught a golden ring, glinting in the light. You reached for it instinctively, feeling a strange pull toward the piece of metal. It was simple but familiar, in a way that made your stomach churn with suspicion.

           Frowning, you held it up to the light, inspecting it. That’s when it hit you like a punch to the gut.

           You knew this ring.

           Your blood ran cold as memories flooded your mind. Years of working alongside him, watching him fiddle with that exact band on long nights at the office, lost in thought as he processed information and clues. You had seen it on his finger countless times.

           Hotch.

           Your heart pounded in your chest, a dizzying sense of disbelief washing over you. There was no way. No possible way. You told yourself it was a mistake, that the stress of the case was playing tricks on your mind.

           But the more you stared at the ring, the more your instincts screamed at you.

           You weren't wrong about this.

           You swallowed hard, slipping the ring back onto the dresser. Rossi hadn’t noticed your reaction, he was busy analyzing the scene with his usual calm efficiency. You forced yourself to stay composed, your mind racing.

           The families. The pattern. A mother, a father, and a young son. Haley and Jack. It was so obvious.

           It all clicked into place with horrifying clarity. Hotch's stressor… the deaths of his family. You remembered the way he had shut down after losing them, how the grief had changed him. But never in your worst nightmares could you have imagined this. This was not the man you knew.

           You took a shaky breath, your mind spinning. You couldn’t tell Rossi - not yet - he wouldn't believe you. Wouldn't believe that his oldest friend was capable of this. Not until you were sure. Not until you’d seen Aaron, looked him in the eyes, and confronted him yourself. You owed him that much.

           "Dave," you said, forcing your voice to stay steady, "I’m going to head out. I need to check something."

           He glanced over at you, raising an eyebrow. "You okay? You look pale."

           "I’m fine," you lied, offering a weak smile. "Just need to follow up on a hunch."

           Rossi nodded, distracted by something on the floor, and you took the opportunity to slip away, your heart pounding in your chest. You could barely keep your hands from trembling as you made your way out of the house and into your car. Thankfully you had arrived separately.

           The drive to Aaron’s old house felt like a blur, your mind spinning with possibilities. Every part of you hoped you were wrong. That this was all some horrible mistake, that there was no way the man you had worked with for years could be behind these murders, that this was truly just some twisted dream, and that you'd wake up soon.

           But deep down, you knew.

           This was reality.

           When you pulled up to Aaron’s house, the pit in your stomach deepened. His car was in the driveway, the lights inside the house dim and all the curtains closed. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay calm. You had to confront him. You had to know the truth.

           You walked up to the door, every step feeling like a death sentence. When you knocked, there was a long pause. Then the door creaked open, revealing Aaron, standing in the doorway. He looked disheveled, his eyes dark and sunken, the weight of grief and something darker pressing down on him.

           "(Y/N)," he said, his voice low and rough. "What are you doing here?"

           You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. You stared at him, your heart racing as you noticed the subtle signs - the tension in his posture, the way his hands flexed at his sides. And most of all, the unmistakable wedding band missing from his finger.

           "I…" you began, your voice trembling. "I need to talk to you."

           Aaron’s eyes flickered, something unreadable passing behind them. He stepped aside, letting you in without a word. You walked into the house, the air thick with tension, your nerves screaming at you to turn around and leave, to get out while you still had the chance. But you couldn’t. Not now.

           As you stepped further into the room, your eyes landed on something that made your stomach drop - on the kitchen counter, barely noticeable, was a small streak of blood. Fresh blood.

           Aaron closed the door behind you, the sound echoing ominously through the quiet house.

           "You shouldn’t have come here," he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

           Your heart pounded in your chest as you turned to face him, the realization crashing down on you with terrifying certainty. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t just your old colleague. He wasn’t just the man that had been your boss. He was the unsub you were looking for. He was the monster you’d been chasing.

           And now, you were alone with him.

           Hotch stood over the lifeless body sprawled across the floor in his living room, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his knuckles bruised and bloody. The man beneath him had been dead for several minutes now, his face a mangled mess of flesh and bone, barely recognizable.

           Hotch’s fists clenched and unclenched, the blood dripping from his fingers painting the carpet with small, crimson pools. His heart was pounding, not from fear or guilt, but from the pure adrenaline coursing through his veins. He should have felt something - regret, remorse, shame—but there was only emptiness. Nothingness. And rage.

           The rage never left him. It simmered beneath the surface, a constant presence, threatening to consume him whole. After Haley and Jack, everything had spiraled. Their deaths had shattered the last bit of humanity he had clung to. He had tried, God knows he had tried, to be the man everyone needed. The leader. The protector. But after them, something inside him had broken, irreparably so.

           At first, he had managed to keep it hidden. But over time, the mask had slipped, the cracks becoming impossible to cover. The anger had grown, festering like a disease, until it had taken over every part of him. It was easier this way. Easier to stop pretending to be the good guy, the man who saved lives, when all he wanted to do was destroy them.

           Besides the way he had hurt Foyet had felt so good.

           He turned his head, his gaze cold and calculating, as a knock landed on the door.

           The scent of sweat hung thick in the air, and the room was suffocating with the tension of your predicament.

           You stood in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock, taking in the scene before you. The man on the ground, the blood, the violence. And Hotch. Not a single drop could be seen on his clothes. Only his hands bore signs of the crime. Your mouth moved, but no sound came out. You were frozen, paralyzed by the realization of what you were seeing. What he had done.

           Hotch stared at you, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. The look on your face - the fear, the disbelief - only fueled the fire inside him. For a moment, there was silence, an unbearable tension hanging between the two of you.

           Then, he spoke. His voice was low, a growl barely restrained by the thin thread of control he had left within him.

           “You really shouldn’t have come here.” He repeated his previous statement

           You blinked, finally finding your voice. “Aaron... what have you done? This isn't you.”

           Hotch’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with something unrecognizable. He took a step toward you, the cold gleam in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. “I did what needed to be done.”

           You could barely breathe, your mind racing as you tried to process what had happened. This wasn’t the man you knew. The man you had worked with for years, the man you had trusted. The man you had secretly loved. He terrified you now. This was someone else entirely - a predator, who was cold and unfeeling.

           “Aaron, please...” Your voice shook as you took a step back, instinctively retreating from the danger that loomed before you. “You don’t have to do this.”

           His eyes flashed with anger, and in an instant, he was on you, his hand gripping your arm with a force that made you wince. His breath was hot against your ear as he whispered, “Don’t tell me what I have to do. You don't know anything”

           You swallowed hard, trying to remain calm despite the fear coursing through you. “This isn’t you,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You’re not a killer.”

           His grip tightened, and you gasped, pain shooting through you as you felt him slightly twisting your arm. “Aren’t I?” His voice was sharp and dangerous. “Do you know what it feels like, to lose everything? Watching them die? Knowing you couldn’t stop it? Knowing that you weren't fast enough?”

           Tears welled in your eyes as you tried to pull away from him, but his hold was unrelenting. “Aaron, please,” you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. “This won’t bring them back. What Foyet did was terrible.”

           For a moment, you thought you saw something - some flicker of humanity cross his face. But it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by cold indifference. He released you, shoving you back roughly. You stumbled, catching yourself against the wall, your heart pounding in your chest.

           Hotch stood there, his eyes burning with fury, his hands still stained with blood. “Don't tell me what's right or wrong. They’re gone and nothing can bring them back,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice void of emotion. “There’s nothing left for me but this.”

           You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “There’s more to you than this. You’re better than this, Aaron. I know you are.”

           He laughed, a bitter, cruel sound that sent chills down your spine. “Better? Better for who? For you? For the bureau didn't trust me to be in the field after what happened?” His eyes bore into yours, and you could feel the hatred radiating off him. “Do you really think you know me? The man I am now?”

           You didn’t answer, too afraid of what he might do next. His rage was palpable, an almost physical force that seemed to fill the room, choking you with its intensity.

           He moved toward you again, his eyes wild, his movements erratic. “You think you can save me? Is that it? You always had a savior complex, just like Morgan.” He grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You can’t save me. No one can.”

           You trembled under his touch, your heart thrashing in your chest, trying to claw its way out as his fingers dug into your skin. For a moment, you thought he might hurt you, that you might face the same predicament as the lifeless body in his living room. That he might go too far. But then, just as quickly as the anger had flared, it seemed to dissipate, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

           He released you, stepping back, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hands shook as he wiped them on his pants, the blood smearing across the fabric. He looked at you, something dark and broken in his eyes. “You should leave,” he said, his voice hollow as he turned his back to you.

           You swallowed, your throat dry. “Aaron—”

           “Go.” His voice was cold, final. There was no room for argument.

           You hesitated for a moment, torn between the part of you that wanted to stay, to help him, and the part that knew he was too far gone. Finally, with a heavy heart, you turned and walked toward the door, your footsteps echoing in the silence.

           As you reached the doorway, you turned back to look at him one last time. He was standing in the center of the room, staring down at his blood-stained hands, his expression unreadable.

           “Aaron,” you whispered, a single tear rolling down your cheek, and your voice breaking. “I’m sorry.”

           But he didn’t look back. He didn’t say a word. And as you stepped out into the night, the door closing behind you with a soft click, you knew that the man you had once known was gone.

           The door had barely closed behind you when Hotch’s mind snapped back into a cold calculation. He could still feel the sting of your words in the air, your plea for him to stop. You should leave, he’d told you. But now, as silence wrapped around him, a horrifying realization dawned - you knew of him.

           Who else knew?

           You were the only one who had seen him like this, who knew what he had done. The team… They would never believe it on their own. Not until you told them, he was sure of that. But what evidence did you have to back up your claim?

           His pulse quickened. His anger, momentarily soothed by the violence he'd unleashed, flared again. He couldn’t let you leave. He wouldn’t.

           He moved quickly, his body still humming with adrenaline. You had made it to the end of the driveway when you heard him behind you. His footsteps were heavy and purposeful. You froze, your heart pounding in your chest.

           "Aaron?" you called over your shoulder, your voice trembling. But there was no response, only the oppressive sound of his approaching footsteps. Fear gripped you.

           Before you could take another step, he was on you. His strong hand wrapped around your wrist like a vice, yanking you back toward him with brutal force. You gasped, struggling against his hold, but it was no use. His grip was unyielding, his expression dark and twisted as he dragged you back into the house, thankful that he and Haley had bought a house in a secluded area.

           "You thought you could just walk away?" His voice was low, a deadly whisper, sending a chill down your spine. "That you could leave me and run straight to the team? Tell them about what I've been doing?"

           You blinked, fear coursing through you as you tried to speak. "No, Aaron, I—"

           "Don’t lie to me!" he snarled, his face inches from yours. "I see it in your eyes. You were going to tell them. Weren’t you?"

           Terror constricted your throat. You wanted to scream, to plead with him, but the words wouldn’t come. His anger was suffocating, his eyes filled with a malice you’d never seen before.

           "I can’t let you do that," he said, his voice eerily calm now, the storm of his fury momentarily quieted by cold calculation. "You’ll ruin everything. This—" He gestured to the leftover blood still staining his hands. "This is who I am now. And you’re not going to stop me."

           Without warning, he yanked you roughly into the storage closet, slamming the door shut behind him. The darkness swallowed you both whole. You stumbled, trying to catch your balance, but Hotch was determined. His large frame loomed over you, his hand still gripping your wrist with bruising force.

           "Please, Aaron, you don’t have to do this," you whispered, your voice shaking as you tried to reason with him. Tried to pull yourself out of his grip.

           But his expression was unreadable now, lost in the darkness. His fingers tightened around your wrist, and you winced in pain. A high-pitched whimper left your throat as the pain coursed through every single nerve in your body.

           "I do." His voice was cold, devoid of the empathy and warmth you once knew in him. "You’re the only one who knows as far as I can tell. And if I let you walk out of here, it’s over for me."

           Your breath hitched, panic rising in your chest. "Aaron, I won’t tell anyone," you pleaded, desperation leaking into your voice. "I swear, I—"

           "I told you don’t lie to me," he hissed, cutting you off with a deadly glare. "I can’t trust you. Not anymore."

           The air was thick with tension, the weight of his gaze suffocating. You could barely make out the features of his face as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, but you could feel the cold determination, it was unmistakable. He had made up his mind. There was no reasoning with him, no turning back.

           Hotch fumbled with something on the wall and soon enough the overhead light bulb flickered on, the dim light barely bright enough to light up his features. Before you could react, Hotch pulled a length of duct tape from a nearby shelf, yanking it free with a sharp sound. Your heart raced, and you instinctively tried to back away, but he was faster. With a cruel efficiency, he shoved you up against the wall, pressing his body against yours to keep you in place.

           “Stop fighting me,” he growled, his breath hot on your neck.

           You struggled, trying to wriggle out of his grip, but it was no use. He was stronger, and his anger gave him a terrifying, unnatural strength. The tape wound around your wrists, biting into your skin as he bound you tightly. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you realized there was no escape.

           When he was finished, he stepped back, watching you with an unnerving calm. Your heart pounded in your chest, panic threatening to overtake you.

           "What are you going to do?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

           Hotch tilted his head, his eyes narrowing as he considered you. “I’m going to make sure you can’t destroy everything.” His voice was cold, emotionless. “I’ve lost too much already. I won’t lose control again.”

           Without warning, he grabbed you, throwing you over his shoulder with brutal force. You screamed, but the sound was muffled by the closet walls. His grip on you was like iron as he carried you out of the building, and into the garage where his car waited patiently.

           You thrashed against him, panic clawing at your throat. But it didn’t matter. His mind was made up, and his body moved with the cold precision of a man who had crossed the line of no return, a man who wasn’t coming back.

           He tossed you into the trunk of his SUV, the metal cold against your back as he slammed the hatch shut, trapping you inside. The darkness closed in around you, and all you could hear was the sound of your own panicked breathing and the engine roaring as Hotch turned the car on.

           You were trapped.

           The engine screeched as Hotch drove with grim determination, the rain streaking the windshield of his SUV. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white at the force of his grip. You still lay in the cramped trunk, the tape burning the skin on your wrists as you struggled to free yourself. Hotch had made a stop after about an hour on the road on the road to gag your screams, he was tired of hearing your begs and pleas for mercy. You lay helpless as the vehicle bumped along the dark, slick road. Every movement jostled your body, sending sharp pains through your limbs, but the terror coursing through you dulled the physical discomfort.

           The man behind the wheel was someone you thought you knew. But this version of Hotch was a stranger.

           His phone buzzed on the dashboard, but he ignored it. You could barely make out the faint sounds through the barrier between you, but you knew it had to be the team. They had to realize by now. But the phone in your pocket still clutched tightly against your side despite the restraints, was your only lifeline. Garcia could trace it if you managed to answer it the next time they tried your number. The team would find you, you were sure of it.

           But Hotch already knew that. And he wasn’t going to let it happen.

           Your heart raced as the SUV took a sharp turn, causing your body to slide slightly across the floor of the trunk. The storm outside was intensifying, and you could feel your anxiety building in the way he drove — focused and determined. He had a plan.

           The car slowed, the rhythmic thud of the rain against the roof of the trunk filling the silence. He pulled off the main road, the sound of gravel crunching beneath the tires. Your pulse quickened as the vehicle came to a stop.

           A car door slammed shut, and you heard his heavy footsteps approaching. The trunk popped open, letting in the cool, rain-soaked air. Hotch loomed over you, his face set in a harsh, emotionless mask. Without a word, he reached down, his grip bruising as he grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out of the trunk. You stumbled onto the muddy ground, barely able to keep your balance.

           His fingers moved deftly, reaching into your pocket and yanking out your phone. His lips curled into a dark smirk, his eyes flashing with twisted amusement.

           “You thought the team would save you,” he grinned in a low almost scary voice. “You thought Garcia would trace this… pathetic.” He held up your phone. A flash of lightning struck down in the distance behind him.

           Before you could react, he dropped the phone on the ground and crushed it under his heel before throwing it into the lake you had stopped near. You barely heard it splash into water over the sound of the pounding rain. Hotch calmly walked over to a large rock, grabbing it with both hands. You watched in horror as he smashed his own phone repeatedly, reducing it to a mess of shattered glass and plastic.

           Your only connection to the outside world was now gone.

Hotch turned back to you, his face illuminated by the brief flashes of lightning. His expression was as cold and unfeeling as the storm around you, but there was something darker in his eyes — a satisfaction in watching your hope slip away.

           “You always were smart,” he murmured, stepping closer, towering over you. “Too smart for your own good.”

           Without another word, he shoved you back into the trunk, his strength leaving no room for resistance. You were thrown back into the small, confined space. The rain and the outside world disappeared, leaving you in pitch-black darkness once again.

           The car started again, the engine rumbling as Hotch continued driving. You were no longer sure where you were, feeling like he potentially had driven you in circles to throw you off track, and that uncertainty gnawed at you. There was no doubt in your mind that Hotch had planned this meticulously. He had been covering his tracks, eliminating threats, and now he was eliminating your ability to interfere.

           The drive felt endless, the sound of rain against the roof your only marker of time passing. You tried to shift, to loosen the restraints on your wrists, but every movement sent sharp pain through your limbs. The car’s motion made you nauseous, the fear and discomfort blending into a haze.

           Eventually, the car slowed again. You felt the shift in the vehicle as it came to a stop. The air was suffocating, your breath quickening in panic as you heard the sound of the driver’s door opening for the third time and then the distant crunch of dried leaves under Hotch’s footsteps. Where had he taken you?

           The trunk opened again, and Hotch’s silhouette was backlit by the faintest glimmer of moonlight filtering through the storm clouds looming above. His face was unreadable, but there was no regret, no hesitation in his actions. He reached in and grabbed you roughly by the arm as he pulled you from the trunk once more.

           You were in the middle of nowhere - an abandoned building ahead, its windows dark and some of them were even shattered.

           The perfect place for someone to disappear.

           “We’re going inside,” Hotch growled, his voice harsh and barren of the warmth it once held.

           Your legs buckled beneath you, no strength left to carry your body, but Hotch didn’t care. He hauled you toward the entrance of the building with ease, his grip bruising on your bicep as he pulled you through the door. The interior was pitch black, the only sound was your rapid, panicked breaths and the distant rumble of thunder as the last of the storm was passing you.

           He led you through the building, the air biting at your skin. You could feel the hatred radiating from him - the complete absence of the man you once knew. He stopped in the center of a large, empty room, turning to face you with a dark, predatory gaze.

           “You should’ve stayed out of it,” he hissed, his voice low and dripping with venom. “But you couldn’t help yourself. You just had to know.”

           He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he reached out, his fingers gripping your chin tightly, forcing you to look up at him. His eyes bore into yours, cold and merciless.

           “You’ll wish you hadn’t.”

           The BAU team gathered in their conference room, the air filled with a heavy silence. The flickering lights of the monitors and the scattered case files did little to lighten the grim atmosphere. The latest string of killings had left them all feeling drained and frustrated. They knew the pattern - the targeted families of three - but the connection was proving elusive.

           Reid, hunched over his paper files, spoke up. “The pattern is consistent. Every victim family has been targeted in a specific order: the father is always the first to go, followed by the mother, and then the child. We’re missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. Why does the unsub want the sons to watch their parents get murdered?”

           Morgan, pacing back and forth, nodded grimly. “We’ve checked financial records, phone records, and even personal connections, but nothing’s coming up. It’s like the unsub is just a ghost.” He listed, counting with his fingers as he mentioned each thing.

           Rossi, reviewing photos from the crime scenes, frowned in concentration. “There’s something we’re not seeing. Maybe we need to look at the details of each scene once again, this time more closely. There’s got to be a common thread.”

           Garcia was furiously typing away, her eyes darting between various screens. She was usually the one bringing good news or revelations, but this time her face was a mask of worry. “I’ve cross-referenced all known data, and I’m still coming up empty. It’s like the unsub is erasing every trace of himself.”

           Penelope’s words were interrupted by the sudden appearance of a new piece of evidence popping up on her screen. The team watched in quiet concern as she displayed a series of images on the large television screen behind them. The new evidence came from a tech at the latest crime scene.

           “Look at this,” Garcia said, her voice trembling slightly as she pointed to a photo of a golden wedding ring lying on a dresser. “I’ve run the image through our database. It’s not just any ring. It’s a unique design only a handful made in total, and I found a match.”

           The room fell silent as the team examined the image. Reid’s eyes widened as he recognized the significance too. “That ring… it’s a distinct piece. I’ve seen it before.”

           Rossi’s gaze shifted from the photo to Garcia. “You’re saying this ring could be linked to someone we know?”

           Garcia nodded, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “I cross-referenced it with our records, and it matches the description of a ring worn by someone in our team.” She swallowed the lump in her throat as she saw the name displayed on her laptop.

           The realization hit like a thunderclap. The team exchanged worried glances, their earlier frustration giving way to a new kind of dread. Rossi’s face darkened as he leaned in closer.

           Garcia nodded again, her expression serious as she confirmed the words Rossi had been about to ask. “The ring belongs to Hotch.”

           The room erupted into chaos. Morgan’s eyes widened in shock, and Reid’s expression was one of horror. “No way,” Morgan said, his voice filled with disbelief. “Hotch? He’s one of the most dedicated agents we’ve ever worked with.”

           “Is there any chance it could be a coincidence?” Rossi asked, his voice tight with concern. "That it's one of the other owners of similar rings?"

           Garcia shook her head, her face pale. “I don’t think so, they've all been spotted across the country and have rock-solid alibis. The design is too specific. And if Hotch is involved, we need to find him before it’s too late.”

           Reid began to piece together the information, his mind racing. “If Hotch is connected to the unsub, then it’s possible that he’s been orchestrating these murders from within. We need to act fast.”

           The team sprang into action, their earlier determination now transformed into urgency. Rossi and Morgan began to gather additional evidence and check Hotch’s recent whereabouts. Reid and Garcia worked on tracking Hotch’s phone, hoping to pinpoint his location.

           As the team raced against time, their focus sharpened on finding Hotch and uncovering the truth behind his involvement in the killings. Each agent’s heart pounded with the realization that someone they trusted might be the very monster they were hunting. But they were not ready to admit it just yet.

           Meanwhile, the darkness within Hotch continued to grow, his plans advancing while the team desperately tried to uncover the truth.

           The next move was crucial - finding Hotch could be the piece they were missing.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER FOUR

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @patscorner @makethemhoesmad @wbbgetsmewetter @authentic-girl03 @ohbueckers

kalena speakss 🪽! i had no clue what to write for this chapter but i scrapped something together and here it is! pls know this was supposed to be out like two hours ago but most of it got deleted and i had to rewrite it, so ignore any typos for the moment, ill fix em eventually 😭

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California

My leg bounces anxiously in the passenger seat of Julian’s car. The vehicle is silent, oddly enough, a complete 180 turn from the atmosphere of the last few days.

Things were really good. Julian and I were getting along better than ever, date nights and sleepovers. Up until we were arguing again. About schedules, staying out late, and of course the biggest disagreement in our relationship; the public.

We stayed up through all the hours of the night last night yelling at each other because I didn’t post about our date on my story; which I thought was childish but Julian evidently thought it was very serious.

Maybe I was wrong.

Maybe it was a big deal. Even when I thought about it from his perspective, I would probably be upset too. But the issue was we’ve talked about this before, countless times.

I sat looking out the window, an air-pod in my right ear that softly played music to keep my head clear. Briefly interrupted by my text tone going off.

Marayeeeee

Paige. Obviously. She’s been the most consistent number in my phone since the dinner party a while back.

don’t ask me for more banana pudding please

You trippin 😭😭

Wanted to see if you were busy, I miss you

“Who’s that?” Julian asks me.

“Just Paige.” I responded, my eyes only briefly looking up from my phone to look at him. It didn’t take a genius to notice how his demeanor changed. The slight roll of his eyes, and the shift in his seat.

“You guys have been talking a lot lately, no?”

He would be right. Aside from the texting throughout all hours of the day, we’ve gone out for lunch a few times over the last couple weeks. She was good company, and very easy to get comfortable around.

“Yeah, something like that.”

i’m actually heading to the airport rn…

Oh

Where to?

dallas! i have a few shows in texas and atl

but i’ll be back next weekend since you miss me so bad ;)

She doesn’t respond right away and I take that as the opportunity to shut my phone off and stick it into my pocket.

Julian lets out a long sigh as his hand runs over his face. “You know we still have to talk about last night, right?”

“What is there to talk about if we’re just gonna keep disagreeing?” I ask softly, trying to avoid raising my voice and starting yet another argument.

“You want me to stop bringing it up? Fine. But don’t get mad when I don’t put up with it anymore.”

The LAX drop off comes into my view and I turn my head to avoid looking at him once more. I don’t miss the lump that sits in my throat, or the tears that sting my eyes. I’ve never considered myself emotional, normally just keeping how I felt to myself or writing it in music, but that one stung.

“Okay Ju.” I shake my head, unbuckling my seatbelt when the car comes to a stop. “That’s fine.” I comment before stepping out of the car. Even after all that, he still hops out to help me get my bags, and I know he’s upset with me and I’m just as upset with him but the way he hugs me and kisses my forehead nearly makes me forget about it.

Nearly.

Because even then, I’m thinking about how his arms don’t feel like they used to. And after a few seconds the kiss that is lingering on my forehead just feels like slobber that I can’t wait to wipe off.

—

May 2025 — Las Vegas, Nevada

I sit comfortably on my hotel bed, a game playing as background noise in front of me and film on my iPad. We play the Aces tomorrow on prime time television and though I should probably be getting some rest, there’s only one person that could possibly be keeping me up at midnight before game day.

Maraye. Obviously.

I can see every bit of her from the phone screen. She’s laying on her bed quite literally giving me a show of her entire upper body. She has on a gray tank top, and I have to remind myself to look up at her face rather than the way her tits sit in that top.

“Paige?”

“Yeah, sorry. What did you say?”

“I said shouldn’t you be watching film instead of me?” She joked. I turned my head before she could get a look of the flush of my face.

“Yes, actually, but you wanted to talk about um, what’s his name again?”

“Julian?”

“Yeah him, and I’m trying to be a good friend.” I shrugged. “What was the issue again?”

Maraye sulks on the other line, shaking her head before speaking. “It’s like we always argue about the same shit. I don’t have the energy to put up with it anymore.”

I’m probably the world’s biggest asshole for giving her relationship advice while wanting her in my bed right now, but oddly enough there isn’t a bone in my body that cares.

“Don’t y’think you should tell him that? That it’s tiring or something?” I suggest. My head leans to the side to get a better look at her and it’s so hard to stay focused on the topic at hand when she’s looking the way she does right now.

Maraye’s skin is glass. I swear if I were to look hard enough I would see my reflection in it. There’s a few freckles that sit on her skin that I can’t just barely see in the light. She has on her reading glasses, wide round frames that complement her brown skin and brown eyes beautifully.

“I tried! But then it makes me look like the bad guy, and I don’t wanna seem like an asshole.”

“How would you be the bad guy for saying how you feel? It’s not that hard, I mean you’re doing it with me right now.”

She laughs at this. “That’s not the same.”

“Yeah? How?”

There’s a silence on the other end, and I notice the way she breaks eye contact with me. Her head turning away from the phone screen and instead looking up somewhere else in the room.

She’s right, it’s not the same. I’m not the one she goes home too, or will introduce to her family, no matter how often I daydream that I am. Nevertheless, still I convince myself that it is.

“We’ve been friends as long as you guys been together, and you can tell me everything, right? Why not him?” I ask. My eyes trail away from the phone screen and over to my iPad to make the silence a bit more comfortable.

“You’re just easier to talk to, Paige. I don’t know.” Her voice trails off at the end of her sentence. “I’m just being dramatic, it’s fine.”

Now in the last two-ish weeks that I’ve been blessed with the pleasure to call Maraye my friend, I’ve picked up on quite a few habits of hers. One of which, being her ability to toss her feelings to the side as if they don’t matter. There’s probably nothing I hate more than that.

“No you’re not.” I sigh, looking back at her. “I’m sorry, but if he’s gonna be mad about how you react to how he’s made you feel instead of fixing it, then he ain’t the one for you, angel. You should find someone who is.”

—

June 2025 — Atlanta, Georgia

Paige’s words have hung over my head like a cloud over the last week.

I’ve made a great handful of friends since leaving Atlanta for LA, all of which I’d like to think have made huge impacts in my life, but none of which even compare to my friendship with Paige.

She’s amazing. Not a flaw in her Godsend personality. And not just in the building-a-grocery-store-in-her-hometown kinda way, but in literally every way imaginable. I laugh harder around her, she gives me amazing advice, and we just clicked almost instantly. It was so, different?

That’s probably the best word, different.

At first I thought it was admiration. I was a fan of hers and as such I felt a certain way about being friends with her. It felt good.

In reality, my idea couldn’t possibly be more far fetched.

I’ve never once questioned my sexuality. For me, my “normal” has just always been guys. There was never a girl friend of mine that made me feel a certain way, or a girl crush that was anything more than a brief fixation. So believe me when I say that how I feel about Paige— when she texts me, or calls to say she misses me, and especially when she calls me angel— that is far from my normal.

It all happened too fast, too much for me to process. I thought my connection with Julian was quick, I mean after a week I was all about him. But me and Paige? We clicked off of one conversation, maybe even the second she fell into my lap at the game. I have no idea how to feel about that.

So as a result, I haven’t spoken to her since that night in Dallas. It thought it would be simple, since it gave me the opportunity to focus on my shows and my career. Yet, all it has me doing is fucking missing her.

I’m seated on the couch in my dressing room backstage before my show in Atlanta. My thumb is hovering over the girl’s contact. Her contact photo stares back at me dangerously. It’s a photo of the two of us from Cameron’s dinner party, Paige’s nose is scrunched as she throws up a peace sign and I’m showing all 32 while throwing up one of my own.

I’m about to press the contact. I don’t know much but I assume she doesn’t have a game tonight, and all I want before going on stage is to hear her voice as she talks about literally anything.

I don’t care about how wrong it feels to be thinking about her in this way, or the fact that I should probably be on stage in less than 10 minutes. All I’m thinking about is Paige.

So yeah, I’m about to click on the dial button when the janky silver door knob twists open. I catch a peak at some royal blue flowers before all 6 feet and 3 inches of Julian steps through the door. My face doesn’t even try to mask its shock.

He looks handsome in his outfit. He always does. A white shirt with a black zip up hoodie along with jean shorts and a pair of Timbs. He’s gotten a haircut, I can tell from how clean his lineup is. His natural curls are pulled into cornrows down the back of his head.

It’s my first time seeing his face in a few days and in person since our awkward goodbye at LAX last week. Oh yeah, I haven’t spoken to him very much this past week either. Oddly enough, it was easier to do than with Paige.

When he steps closer, Julian hands me the flowers first before sitting next to me on the couch.

“What’re you doin’ here?” I ask incredulously. He pulls me into a hug from where we sit on the couch, cologne travels through the air and up into my nose. Dior Sauvage, I could point it out anywhere.

“I haven’t seen you in a minute.” Julian says. He leans into me and our lips connect softly, much different to the manner we’ve been treating one another with over the last couple weeks. Even then I don’t hesitate when I kiss him back. His lips feel so familiar, and they are because I haven’t felt them in quite some time. “Thought I should surprise you.” He mutters against my lips.

I pull away haphazardly, his eyes stare back into mine. Only this time it’s not as familiar, namely the fact that they aren’t big blue orbs that I swear dilate ever so slightly when they look at mine.

My feet lift me off the couch and over to the vanity. I place the flowers he gave me, roses, on the surface. “Sure did surprise me.” I joke. When I turn back around, with my hands pressed to the vanity chair behind me, Julian is manspreading slightly, the look on his face one that I call suggestive. “I have to be on stage in like… seven minutes.” I announce awkwardly with a glance to the gold watch on my wrist.

“So?”

“So, you have to get outta here and I have to finish up sound stuff.” I explain. My fingers fix the smeared lip gloss on my chin while I look down at him.

Julian stands up and approaches me, it’s times like this where I forget how tall he actually is. And the shoes on his feet give him another inch or two.

“What’s up wit’ you, babe? If you don’t want me here, I can go back to LA.” I don’t like the tone in his voice, mainly because it’s pointed as if he wants to say something to me but knows that it would upset me.

“What? No, I literally have to be on stage. You know how Kaylee gets.” I tell him. My hand reaches up for his tanned cheek and he doesn’t fight me off. I hear my phone ring in on the couch, but I can’t take it on stage with me so ignore it. It’s probably Kaylee cursing me out for being late.

Julian presses a kiss to my palm and I internally shudder. “You sure?” Just like that his tone is different. It’s the soft and deeper baritone that made me fall for him in the first place, not the aggressive accusatory voice I’ve become used to.

I nod. My mouth opens up to speak when I’m cut off by multiple bangs on the door before it swings open.

“Julian, I told you to wait until after the show. Raye we gotta go, now!” It’s Kaylee, as it always is. She reaches for my arm, which is bare due to my stylist's decision to fit me in a strapless top for tonight’s show. “You give me gray hairs, I swear.” She mumbles as she pulls me away from Julian.

In my head I’m silently thanking her for what I think was either Julian trying to have sex with me or him trying to start an argument about me not wanting to have sex with him. Either way I’m thankful.

As we leave, I hear my phone ring again from the couch. Julian reaches for it, and just before the door shuts I see him press a button and toss it back onto the couch.

It shouldn’t bother me because I have bigger priorities, namely the crowd of 10,000 people who paid money for this show. But still, it plays in the back of my mind while Kaylee scolds me and my sound manager fits the earpiece to my ear and puts the microphone in my hand.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

You gnaw on your cheek as you read over the letter. Final warning. You really didn't think much of the first five but that word catches your worry; litigation.   

Your mother grunts and clicks her pen, dropping it as she curses under her breath. She tosses the crossword book away from the chair. For all your life, you remember her working on her puzzles. Now, she can hardly hold pen steady enough to put in a single clue.  

"Mom, you want another coke before I head out?" You ask.  

"Where are you 'headed out' to?" She scowls.  

"Just outside. Try to figure out the mower."  

"Piece of shit," she sneers and for a moment, you're not sure if she means the machine or you.  

"So..."  

"Just go," she snips.  

You purse your lips around the cut of her tone. You leave her in her recliner and you go down the hallway to the back door. You shove your feet into your stained vans and let yourself gently outside.  

You come down the steps and cross the overgrown grass to the garage. You prop the door open with an old paint can and drag put the mower. You haul it over to the little patch of pavement by the house as the sunlight raises beads of sweat across your forehead.  

You shade your eyes and squint. You don't get the thing. It's not even motorized, it just started catching. You can't push it hard enough to make it go. It only bounces uselessly across the ground.  

You squat and put it on its side. You examine the blades, nervous to dig between the mulching teeth. You grab a stick and poke around. It breaks and you rip it out.  

"Dang it," you whisper.  

You stand up. It's too hot to think. As much as you miss the sunshine in the grim winters, the heat is less than welcome.   

"Hey, excuse me," a voice startles you. You ignore it, thinking maybe it's just the neighbours on the other side of the fence. "Um, miss?"  

You turn towards the voice and find a man peeking through the loose slat in the fence. You sigh. Yeah,   

that needs to be fixed too.  

You stare dumbly. You recognise the man. It takes a few seconds to remember where you saw him. He was with the realtor. You hadn't see much yet, not that you ventured outside often. The sign changed to sold and that was that.  

"Hi, uh, so this," he touches the plank, swiveling it on the hanging nail.

You nod and go to the edge of the patch of pavement but no further. You nibble your lip and search for something to say. Talking to mom is easy, you know what to expect, but strangers are different.   

"Gonna fix it," you assure him flatly.  

"Yeah, well, I was actually thinking, I'm just doing a few touch ups right now and I could spare a couple nails or two."  

You tilt your head and bring your hands together, mashing your palms anxiously, "it's rotted."  

He wiggles the wood and little slivers fall away. He hums disappointed, "sure is." He smiles as his blue eyes shine in the sunlight, "no problem then. I'm sure I can find something at the hardware store."  

You hesitate. You should mention you can afford even half a plank. Grandma left you the house and enough to cover property taxes, but mom's monthly cheques are already stretched thin. If he doesn't ask, you won't offer.  

"Steve," he stretches his arm through the opening.  

You look at his hand. Your stomach flip flops. You don't want to be rude as much as you don't want to touch this strange man. Well, no use in making another enemy around here.  

You lift your feet as you trudge through the high grass. As you near, the sweat slakes down your back. You gently shake his hand, just for a second, and pull back.  

"And your name? Neighbour?" 

You stare at the collar of his grey tee shirt and eke your name out. 

“Is it just you over here?” He asks. 

You shake your head. You bend your arm to pick at your sleeve. You don’t mind introductions but you’re not much for conversation. You don’t need him prying into things. If anyone really saw inside those walls, they’d only feel bad for you. You’d rather their apathy. 

“Oh, you got kids? A husband?” 

You wince. It’s almost a flattering assumption yet a reminder of everything you don’t have. You’re not old enough to really think about all that anyway. 

You glance back at the side of the house. You should hose that down and get rid of the mildew. Another tick on the endless list. 

“Mom,” you say. 

“Ah, makes sense. You in school?” 

You shake your head again. He’s quiet. You sway listlessly. 

“Anyway...” he says. 

You put your head down and back away. You go back to the mower, bending down to fiddle with it again. You could see if anyone would lend you one but that means asking and as much as the neighbourhood paints itself in friendly smiles, they aren’t genuine. The letter on the kitchen table is proof of that. 

“Not working?” The man, Steve asks. You cringe and stand up. He’s still there. 

You shrug as you look at him. You turn back to the mower and lift it by the handles. You try to ignore the nosy neighbour and line it up with the grass. You push and it doesn’t move easy. You grunt and it rolls over the grass. You think maybe it’s working but as you turn, you notice the grass stands back up, only slightly bent. 

“You know, I got a nice electric one. Isn’t here yet but I can bring it tomorrow on the truck,” he offers, “I wouldn’t mind doing a once over, if you need.” 

You huff and push the mower over. 

“Can’t pay you,” you stomp back towards the house. 

“I didn’t say anything about money,” he chimes. 

You stop by the steps and cross your arms. You look at him, “too much.” 

“Well, if you change your mind, you can just come knock on my door,” he says. 

You nod and spin around again. You climb the steps, fighting to keep your steps even. You want to run inside and hide but you don’t want him to see how desperate you are to get away. 

The screen door snaps shut behind you. You kick off your shoes and go down the hall. Your mother huffs from her recliner. 

“You figure it out?” She asks. 

“No,” you flop onto the couch. 

“Knew ya wouldn’t,” she snorts as she stares out the window. “Man’s back. Musta bought the place.” 

“Uh, yeah,” you lean back, pulling the collar of your shirt over your face to sop up the sweat. “It’s hot.” 

“Nah, you’re just whiny,” she snickers. 

You don’t respond. You know better than that. You let her have her truth. Whatever she thinks of you, you can’t disprove. The world is she says it is. 

🏠

Your bedroom window shines yellow with the noon sun. The heat beams down on the folding table, warming your hands as you scratch charcoal onto thick paper. You still have grass stains on your fingers from another fruitless attempt at fixing the mower. Another day and you expect another letter isn’t far behind. 

As you focus on the lines and curves left by the pencil, your anxiety subsides. Drawing is the only thing that helps you forget. Really forget. You don’t think about the house or the lawn or the HOA or your mom. It’s just you and the pencil. 

You lean your forehead in your hand as you cross hatch the shadows. The chirping birds and the soft breeze deepen your trance. The world around you is distant and dim. You’re only awoken but the sudden and unfamiliar ‘ding dong’. 

You sit up. It takes a moment before you realise what it was. The doorbell? No one ever rings it. No, even Marge from the HOA waits until you come out to get the mail to accost you. 

You put the pencil down and get up. You go out and peek down the hallway. You creep along and stop at the doorway to the front room. You mom sniffs and wipes her eyes. She must have fallen asleep in her chair. 

“Who is it?” She snarls with grogginess in her throat. 

“I don’t know,” you go to the door and pull the curtain away from the long window beside it. You peek out at the figure on the porch and quickly hide behind the fabric. Too late. “It’s... the neighbour. I think he saw me.” 

“Ergh, don’t be stupid, girlie,” your mother barks, “help me up.” 

“Oh, uh, okay.” 

You go to her and offer your hand. You get her to her feet. She slightly hunched and slow but she makes her way to the door. She pauses and turns to the mirror above the little bench against the wall. She tidies her hair and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

She leans on the door as she grips the handle. She opens it and the man from next door, Steve, greets her with a grin. 

“Hello?” She sweetens her tone. 

“Hello, miss, sorry to bother you,” he says, “I just moved in next door and I’m getting settled in. I was just about to do some lawn work and I thought maybe I might offer to do yours? It’s no trouble, I just thought I’d offer.” 

“Oh, what a honey you are,” she preens, “of course, that would be lovely of you. My daughter,” she sighs and shakes her head, “I’ve been nagging her for weeks to get it done.” 

“Really, it’s not a bother,” he assures her, “I’m Steve by the way.” 

His smile is just as charming as his introduction. 

“Holly,” your mother returns, “I’ll make you some lemonade for your trouble. It’s a hot one, isn’t it?” 

“Sounds good,” he agrees, “I’ll try not to make too much noise.” 

You peek out from behind your mother. Steve’s eyes meet yours for an instant before she blocks her out, no doubt eager to hide the state of the house from him. You back up as she turns to you.  

“What’re you doing hanging on like a rodent?” She hisses, “go make some lemonade.” 

[itsa-me-lily]

First of all, anyone with pets, this fic may fuck you up. It fucked me up and I wrote it. So please keep that in mind before reading this fic. This is for sure some of my own personal trauma I used to flavor this, that and my tears.

Second THE PIGS ARE OKAY IN THE END I PROMISE, spoilers I know but I felt like I needed to put that in advance

Third here is the other Simon & Thimble stuff (Here is MPS AU Masterlist)

Fourth @nightunite I want to blame this on you but this is honestly all me

Content warning; anxiety, panicking, pet illness, discussion of pet death, concern that violence has been committed against reader, concern that reader is injured, angst

You were not a woman who needed her husband, but fuck was this a time you wanted him.

You had suspected something was up with boys. You couldn't tell if they were eating, and neither would come running to the edge of their enclosure to greet you when you came home. You tried not to panic, tried to ignore the tendrils of anxiety that wrapped around your lungs to strange them. This time was different. You weren't some kid who just graduated college and didn't have a clue. You knew better this time.

So you mixed up your CritCare, made the next available appointment with their vet, and remained determined that everything was going to be fine.

Then the wheezing started.

You had been on the cusp of sleep, your phone mocking you with the announcement of one am. You knew you needed to sleep, and yet you hadn't been able to. In the dark you could admit that you were scared. And that you had a reason to be.

You hadn't made the pull out bed, instead just planning on sleeping on the couch as is, incase something happened. You're thankful you had. It made scooping both Jiji and Tombo to abscond to the bathroom easier, the three of you sitting against the door as the hot running shower filled the tiny room with steam. It would help. It had to.

Only it didn't. Ten minutes later and they still sounded so terrible. You could feel the fear starting to churn your stomach. What if you couldn't fix it? What if you were too late again and-Your breath hitched as you tried not to spiral. It had to be different this time but-your eyes burned as you tried to ignore the urge to cry. You were so alone. Simon was out on some overnight lieutenant training, and you were alone in your bathroom with your boys who were absolutely everything to you and they sounded so sick and what if you couldn't make them, what if it was just like last time where you tried and tried and it still didn't make them any better and you lost them and-

You can't help the sob that ripped out of your chest, holding the boys a little tighter. You needed to do something. You have to do something because your boys needed you to. Sniffling, you tried to unlock your phone to check where the ER vet is, only it opens to the conversation you had with Simon.

'If anything happens call Soap.'

You were sure that Simon had probably meant if there was some sort of human emergency, when he had offered up his best friend, but you were desperate. Without really thinking about it you were dialing the Scot, breath hitching as you tried to get it under control. The endless ringing just made the anxiety wring your insides. You were about to give up when at the last second a voice came on the line, disoriented and thick with sleep.

"'ello?"

"J-Johnny?"

You hadn't meant for your voice to crack when you said his name, but just hearing another person meant that you didn't have to try this alone and the relief that crashed over you made you a little weak.

"I need help."

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish, liked to think that he was a man prepared for anything. He was a solider, a demolition expert, he could make anything blow with just the right amount of faith, trust, and c-4. He was ready to fly out to whatever corner of the world needed him to kick ass.

He was not ready to hear Ghost's wife, which that was an odd sentence in and of itself, almost crying down the line as she called him in the dead of night. You hadn't even finished saying his name and Johnny was already rolling out of bed, looking for anything to throw on.

Image after terrible image flashed through his mind as he heard your plea for help. Had someone broken in? Were you hurt? One awful thought struck him of you cowering somewhere until the person determined to get revenge on Ghost found you. No. He couldn't panic. You already sounded distressed and he couldn't help you if he lost his head. Johnny was a professional.

"Hen, need you to tell me where you are."

"At-at the house-"

"Is anyone else there?"

"N-no."

Johnny would have sagged with relief if he wasn't so busy shoving his feet into his boots and already halfway out the door. Not a break in, at least as far as you were aware. It didn't rule out you being hurt though.

"Listen I'll be there in ten, don't move."

"But the boys-"

Looking back, Johnny probably should have let you finish before ending the call, but in his defense he had a twenty minute drive to cut in half, and an LT to notify. He wasn't really sure what the relationship between the two of you was, but he had been there the night Ghost had overheard some private talk about you, and Ghost hadn't taken kindly to it.

Of course, the private needed to be socked a few times given what he was saying, but still, as far as he had known his LT hadn't even wanted to be in the spousal program until Price threatened him with extra psych meetings. Then next thing Johnny new Ghost was defending your honor and asking him to keep an eye on ya when he was out of town. So whatever the hell was going on between the two of you, Johnny wasn't going to fuck it up.

Which was how he was now at the closest emergency vet visit, trying to keep you from crying further while someone looked at your guinea pigs. Even he could admit the poor guys had sounded awful in the car.

He had tried not to push, even if he had been frustrated when he had first arrived at Ghost's home. He had spent ten minutes driving like the devil was chasing him, imagining you laying there with a broken neck or worse, and you had been perfectly fine, standing there at the door talking about needing a vet.

Johnny had had half a mind to give you an earful of what constituted as a past midnight call for help, but before he had the chance to, your face had crumbled and it was over for him. He was taking you and two guinea pigs to the vets.

He watched as you picked at your cuticles, seeming to need some sort of distraction, though he couldn't tell how well it was working given the way you seemed to be staring at the floor. Just as he was about to reach out to stop you from making yourself bleed for the third time, his phone started vibrating in his pocket. He was pretty sure he knew who was calling at this hour.

He didn't even bother checking the ID before answering, stepping away, not that you noticed.

"Hey LT."

"Status report MacTavish."

"Missus is okay. The wee ones got taken back. Now we're just waiting."

"...Thank you Johnny."

That was unexpected. Sure Ghost wasn't a complete bastard, but the genuine gratitude that came through the line was...shocking. He didn't know if it was for driving you while you were upset or even just being there. He wasn't sure if Ghost even knew.

"Any time Simon."

"How is-"

Johnny didn't mean to cut the man off, but a man in mint green scrubs had come out calling for last name Riley, and he didn't want to leave you alone to get whatever news was coming.

"They just called for us. Update you later."

He probably shouldn't have hung up just like that, but well he figured Ghost would appreciate the dedication to keeping you upright this evening.

It was an upper raspatory infection, is what Soap told him the vet had said. Simon didn't know how two guinea pigs who never left the house got infections like that, but according to Soap who had said according to the vet, that you had caught it early enough and a course of antibiotics would help.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he remembered getting Soap's messages, at first the worry that something had happened to you, and then the concern later when it was clear that it was the pigs.

Simon knew you had some sort of trauma in regards to them. There was no way that the level of hypervigilance you had in regards to them wasn't. He had seen it other service members before. Hell he lived it, that constant nagging feeling that if you weren't aware of everything all the time, then something was going to get you. It hadn't been until he had asked about the two wooden boxes on your nightstand that he had started to understand.

You'd had two other guinea pigs before, pets you had gotten to sooth the loneliness right after college. And of course you loved them, loved them just as much as you loved your boys now. Only you hadn't known then what to look out for with sick guinea pigs.

Simon could remember the sad look in your eyes as you had brushed your fingers along the top of one wooden urn. You had tried so hard to nurse them back to health, did everything you could, went to the vet as often as you could afford to, but you had been trying to catch up to a loosing race. Simon had pretended not to notice how you had tried not to let any tears spill over as you explained it all to him. So now, with Jiji and Tombo, he could see how that would probably send you spiraling.

Really he owed Soap at least a drink the next time they went out, even if at four in the morning the Scot had tried to brush off any gratitude from when he reported to Simon that everyone was back home where they were supposed to be. He knew he didn't say it enough, but Simon was grateful that Soap had his six, and in this case yours.

Pulling up to the driveway, Simon braced himself for whatever laid waiting for him at high noon. It was the best possible anticlimactic. You asleep on the couch clear bags under your eyes, and two little pigs poking their heads out of their hideys to see what was going on now.

Making his way over he knelt down next to the cage, watching as Jiji stuck his head out a little further to even accept the gentle brushing of Simon's finger. The antibiotics must have already been helping.

"Alright you two, it's time to get better now. You can't go breaking your mum's heart."

Edit;

Jiji and Tombo make a full recovery and are back to being their adorable menacing selves in no time. Baker thankfully never got sick because he was being quarantined due to the ringworm

Also this is incredibly emotional for me, because I loved all my boys I've had, and I'd do all over again, the medication runs, vet visits, syringe feedings, if it meant that they got better. So even if it's in this world, to have piggies get better means a lot.

[antiquarianfics]

Soon You'll Get Better

Desperate people find faith. Bucky's desperate for you to get better, so, yeah, he'll pray to someone else's god.

a/n: anngssst. angst. so. much. angst. this is not happy at all. sorry. or maybe not. idk. enjoy and be sad.

warnings: profanity, illness, seizing, mentions of canon level violence, not really proofed

note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy, repost, or translate my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and/or reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

Obnoxious beeping sounds from the monitors the doctors and nurses have you hooked up to, and the continuous noise is putting Bucky on edge. The super soldier clenches and unclenches his jaw, tightens and un-tightens his grip on the arms of his chair, and slowly blinks in some sort of weak attempt to ground himself. The beeping, the fluorescent lighting, the paleness of your skin: it’s all too much. It’s overstimulating and overwhelming. After all, you shouldn’t even be here.

Bucky raises his head up to the ceiling, closing his eyes and letting out a deep breath, and when he looks back down, his eyes settle on the table next to your hospital bed.

A bouquet of flowers and a “Get Well” card sit there, mocking him. Next to that is a jug of water that he and the nurses have struggled to get you to drink from, and beside that, four or five orange pill bottles with your name on them alert him—and any visitors—that you’re unwell.

It’d been almost a month since he brought you to the hospital in a panic, your unconscious body limp in his arms. A raid on an old HYDRA facility had gone south, and an armed HYDRA operative had managed to get the jump on you, jabbing a syringe into your neck and poisoning you.

The doctors, poison control, the Avengers... no one had a clue what kind of poison coursed through your veins, weakening your immune system, draining your energy, and eating away at your muscle mass. For nearly a month, you'd only gotten worse; the doctor's were starting to talk about a feeding tube because you won't eat, and you're rarely awake.

If Bucky Barnes were to say he wasn't scared for your well being, he'd be lying. If he were to say he wasn't terrified you might die, he'd be perfidious. The fear—the trepidation—that consumes him? He feels it making him desperate for a solution.

Staring at the orange bottles next to your bed, Bucky finds himself transported back to his childhood—back to a day where he sat stiffly between his mother and sister in the pew, in an itchy suit, and did anything but listen to the words of the preacher at the front of the church. Yet, something about that memory, despite having never truly having been religious, Bucky finds himself clasping his hands together and his eyes settling on the ceiling.

"I might sound like an idiot," he says quietly, "but, hell, if you're up there—if anyone or any thing is up there—please, please save her. Please save my girl. I'm desperate. I'll do anything—anything. Just. Please."

"It always happens," a gentle, sympathetic voice breaks the deafening silence following Bucky's prayer. He turns his attention from the ceiling to the door where a young, 20-something nurse is entering the room.

"What?" He asks, voice gruff. He's aware he doesn't sound friendly, and he knows you'd scold him for it.

"The nonreligious start to pray when things stop looking good," she says, fiddling with the machinery that is tracking your vitals. She sighs. "Desperate people always seem to find faith, even for a moment."

Bucky hums in acknowledgement, slouching in his chair. He gets the feeling that if you were awake, you'd say something sarcastic like, "Hey, Buck! Hear that? You're acting like a normal person!" His lips uptick slightly at the thought.

"I prayed to Jesus, too," the nurse continues. "When my grandmama was sick."

"I feel like I'm screaming to a foreigner's god," Bucky admits. "Someone I don't believe in, but someone that someone else says can help. Not that I deserve help from any god, but she does."

The nurse nods in understanding. "Praying to someone else's god out of desperation is the purest expression of grief. It might not work, but, if you had any doubts, at least you know you love her."

The nurse finishes what she came to do, marks on your chart, nods to Bucky, and leaves. Bucky chews on the inside of his cheek as he lets his gaze settle back on you.

After a while, he scoots his chair closer to you and takes hold of your hand.

"Sweetheart, you're going to get better. You have to get better. Please. People need you. I-" Bucky chokes on his words and swallows before attempting to continue. "I need you. Please. You need to get better. You're going to get better. Soon. You'll get better soon. You'll get better." He repeats himself a few more times until his mouth becomes too dry to speak and he closes his eyes.

"I'll get better, soldier. Don't worry about me," you say, voice groggy as it breaks into his consciousness. He looks up at you quickly.

"Doll."

"Hi."

"You're awake."

"Mhmm," you hum, smiling softly.

He quickly stands to his feet. "Hold on, I'll get the nurse back in here."

Before you can protest, he has the nurse from earlier back in the room. She smiles at you as she enters.

"Rise and shine, sunshine!" The nurse greets. "How are you feeling?"

"Not too bad. Could go for a popsicle, though," you grin.

The nurse smiles as she double checks some things before leaving to go get you your popsicle.

"You know, I might be super fucking poisoned right now, but at least I get unlimited popsicles. I never get this many popsicles. I'm basically in heaven."

Bucky raises an eyebrow at your statement, but the way you smile at him, grinning from ear to ear, he can't help but smile back.

"If you wanted popsicles, you could've just told me. I would've gotten you some. You didn't have to go and get yourself poisoned," he says.

"Where's the fun in that?"

You open your mouth to say something else, but before you do, your eyes roll back into your head, your mouth falls open, and your body starts to shake. Bucky stands to do something, but he's not quite sure what to do. Luckily, the nurse enters the room with your popsicle just in time.

"Shit!" She curses. She turns and yells out into the hall. "I've got a patient seizing in here!" In just a few seconds, she and a couple other nurses are lying you all the way down in the bed and taking care of your person. Bucky thinks he hears someone call for a doctor as another person escorts him out.

As Bucky stands in the hallway, watching helplessly through your room's window to where the medical personnel are helping you, he can't help but feel selfish. If they don't save you, what is he supposed to do? Who is he supposed to talk to? If there's no you, then what is his purpose anyway?

"Come on, Doll," he says. "You've got to pull through. You've got to get better. You promised. You got to get better soon. You have to."

[cluelessrebel1988]

If I Ran The Zoo (or how I would plot out an Animorphs TV/streaming series if I had the time/ability/resources)

So this is something I've been kicking around in my head on-again, off-again for a couple years now, and I thought I'd put it out there, just for the lols (do people still say that?)

My thought process is for a 5 season arc, with each season being somewhere in the neighborhood of 13-15 episodes long, give or take. There would be a few changes with the order of things, and a few minor characters would play a bigger role. I'm not going to go episode by episode, but just sort of outline the big arcs for each season. I'm not in any way suggesting that this is the best way to do it, just that this is how I would do it.

Season 1

This season obviously would start the events of The Invasion and would primarily incorporate events/plot points from the first 10 books, including finding Ax in his crashed ship (though I would move that to either take place in the first episode, or in the second half of the two-part premiere), Tobais getting stuck in his hawk form (and getting an episode or two dedicated to him coming to terms with that), and introducing Erik and the Chee (Erik would be introduced as a friend of Marco's early in the season, with his identity as a Chee being revealed in the second half of the season).

The only major plot point from that run of the series I wouldn't put into play just yet is the reveal of Marco's mother as Visser One (although I would be very much establishing her through flashbacks, dreams, etc., so people will recognize her when Visser One does show up).

The main arc of the season would involve the Kandrona Ray and the events of The Stranger, with the team meeting the Ellimist and learning about the ray and its significance and plotting to take it down to try to end/expose the invasion. Erik and Ax tagteam providing info about the ray and its use, but it's the vision from the Ellimist that gives Rachel the final clue, again, as in the book, with that occuring at the end of the penultimate episode. The season finale is solely focused on devising and executing the plan to destroy the ray. The plan would succeed, which would prompt Visser One's return, revealing her host to be Marco's mother as the cliffhanger for the season.

Obviously, we would be exploring the kid's home lives more, with the relationship with their families and friends and the whole 'work-life balance' thing that comes with fighting a guerilla war against an alien invasion. Not to the point where they're having to fake illnesses to skip school every episode, but enough to show that it's putting a strain on their relationships. I would also explore Rachel's relationship with Melissa Chapman more and have Melissa be a bigger supporting character in the show. We'd also introduce Karen and Aftran in this season, revealing her to be a controller early on, but something that Cassie doesn't find out until the end of the season

Season 2

Season 2 would pick up a few weeks after season 1, as The Alien did with The Stranger. The kids learn that their hope that the invasion would reveal itself with the Kandrona ray destroyed were in vain and that Ax knew that. The premiere would largely follow the plot of that book, with the Animorphs attempting to integrate Ax into society and attempting to take the fight to Visser Three with the help of a Yeerk traitor, and Ax telling the others about the Law of Seerow's Kindness. Ax would get a lot of development this season, with the events of The Deception coming into play.

Tobias would help free the Hork-Bajir as in The Change and get his human form back as a morph, and the reveal that he is Elfangor's son would be included in this season as well (Obviously we're tapping into the Andalite Chronicles for flashbacks in at least one episode this season to help set that up).

Marco's main character arc would revolve around learning that his mother is Visser One, keeping it a secret, only to have the others find out later, thus incorporating The Predator and The Escape. Also Visser One is the big bad for the season, delving more into her conflict with Visser Three. The season would end with her supposed death following the Animorphs' thwarting of her plans

For Cassie, we cover the utilize adapted versions of The Departure and set up for The Sickness, with Karen/Aftran and Cassie perhaps getting trapped somewhere and forced to work together to get out of it, laying the groundwork for Aftran to be captured by Visser Three. The season finale would also center around the efforts to rescue Aftran.

Jake and Rachel will have arcs and roles to play in each of these stories as they each start to fall into their respective roles as leader and fighter, respectively. If they get their own arc, it would be around trying to save Tom specifically.

Additionally, Melissa is still around in her expanded role, but with a new friend: David, who would be introduced fairly early in the season in a recurring role (Melissa is also recurring at this point). She and David will have a B-plot where they become friends and are together when David finds the morphing cube, the discovery of which also occurs in the finale.

Season 3

Obviously, the primary source for the main arc of season 3 is the David Trilogy, with The Discovery in particular serving as the source for the season premiere. It plays out mostly the same, with the Animorphs learning that David and Melissa have the cube and plans to sell it online. They try to retrieve the cube before the two of them can attract the attention of the Yeerks, but ultimately fail, leading to the battle at David's house. They manage to get Melissa and David out of the house before they can be captured, and are forced to reveal themselves and tell them what's happening, essentially recruiting them into the Animorphs.

The events of the rest of the trilogy, with the threat to the UN summit or some similar event involving world leaders as a target that they have to keep the Yeerks from taking advantage of -- as well as with David and Melissa's reactions to being Animorphs -- would take up the majority of the plot this season. Obviously Melissa becoming an Animorph opens up some new potential for her arc, especially around her relationship with her dad and trying to come to terms with him being a controller (and the fact that Rachel has been keeping this a secret all along). She and David would have similar arcs around their parents being controllers, but while David ultimately turns against the Animorphs, Melissa does not (although David tries to convince her to). The season ends with the gang trapping David in a rat morph, as the books do.

One of Melissa's major character traits is her interest in technology, something she used to bond with her father over (working together to take things apart and then put them back together before be became a Controller to try to keep her safe) and I imagine her and Ax developing something of an awkward friendship as she tries to ask him about the morphing technology and other Andalite technology, with him being reluctant to share due to the Law of Seerow's Kindness. But, as he's grown closer with the Animorphs, he would eventually acquiesce and they would begin to bond. The two big relationships (Rachel and Tobias, and Cassie and Jake) also take major steps this season

The other major arc for the season involves other Andalites, incorporating The Arrival and The Other, with the reveal that other Andalites are on earth and some are there to help...or are they? The season would also end with Tobias getting captured by the Yeerks to begin the laying of the groundwork for the discovery that the Animorphs are not, in fact, Andalite bandits.

Season 4

The events of The Illusion and The Test would be adapted for the season premiere, including the introduction of the Yeerk resistance (led in this series by Karen/Aftran) and Tobias's capture and torture, with the main difference being that it is Tom (who has largely been a secondary or tertiary villain thus far) being the one who conducts the torture. During the interrogation, Tobias lets something slip that most of the controllers in the room don't pick up on, but Tom does, leading him to investigate and setting up for the finale, which would be largely and adaptation of The Diversion, with the race against time to save their families taking up the majority of the episode. Melissa is able to save her parents, her father proving to be an asset in the final season with his knowledge of how Yeerk technology works.

This season as a whole would focus on escalating the war between the Animorphs and the Yeerks. The stakes become higher, as are tensions following David's betrayal. Visser One returns, learning that Marco is one of the Animorphs and we incorporate the events of Visser, seeing the Animorphs rescue her.

Following Tobias's capture and torture, Rachel becomes more angry and vengeful, setting up for her arc over the final season (we've seen hints of her violent streak over the series up to this point, but it gets more intense this season).

Season 5

With their secret out, the Animorphs regroup in the Hork-Bajir valley and try to figure out their next move. The final arc of the series would play out largely how it does over the course of the final books, with the team recruiting more Animorphs to help them with their mission, and even trying to recruit government and military officials to aid in the fight. Tom gets the morphing cube, adding controllers with the ability to morph (other than the newly appointed Visser One) to the threat against the Animorphs. The final battle would be a multi-pronged attack, with the bombing of the Yeerk Pool being part of the final assault and not a separate battle.

Rachel gets aboard the blade ship and kills Tom before being killed herself. In an effort to make up for the harm he caused, Hedrick Chapman sacrifices himself to both ensure the Yeerk Pool bomb goes off and to save Melissa one final time (the pair of them were in charge of building/detonating it, along with Ax), and Jake orders the flushing of the Yeerk Pool on the the Pool ship, alienating Erek and the rest of the Chee going forward. All of this is in the penultimate episode.

The series finale follows the aftermath of the war in The Beginning, and, as the books did, the series would end with Jake, Tobias, and Marco (and probably Melissa) being recruited to help save Ax from an as-yet unknown threat.

And there you have it, my outline for how an Animorphs series could/should play out. As I said at the start, this is just my idea and others might have different thoughts about what order the arcs should go in and what significant changes (if any) would be made. Please be kind with any criticisms, and if you'd like to share your thoughts with me, my inbox is open. I also did a fancast for the series a few years ago if anyone's curious about who would play who

[magknightidv]

The Knight and The Florist.

Masterlist.

Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't expect from an Idv fic. (Fairly short)

Richard Sterling x fem! Reader

---

The Florist. Y/n L/n. Recently dragged into the claws of Oletus Manor by a mysterious letter supposedly telling her of clues of the location of her missing brother. A boy so young when he was stolen from their mothers arms, the girl had barely understood the severity of the situation until she watched her family succumb to an illness that she was immune to.

How will her first meeting with the equally as new "Knight" go?

---

Matches. Games. Decode. Run. Hunters. Survivors. All key words I must remember. I must. One wrong move could cost me and the other survivors our winning matches, the more we win the more we get in return. Or so I've been told by Lily. She's a sweet girl who means well, energetic, maybe a little peculiar.

What if I fail my match. Who will come rescue me. I've been teamed with the other newest survivors, they likely will not be as experienced as the players who have been stuck here for years. No, they simply won't be as experienced. I cannot be fully sure I won't fumble and lose us a match. I do not even know how to play these games, decoding seems simple enough but what do I do if the hunter finds me? I can supposedly contain the hunter but I do not even know how to, I can even support people in some equally as unkown way. Oh how I wish they'd put me in a practise match where there would be no rewards, no consequences. Just a bit of practise.

My breathing becomes heavier and my room suddenly feels a lot smaller. I can't take it. Out.

Get out.

Leave.

Run.

Hide.

A ring of black takes the edges of my vision as I sprint towards the garden area of the manor. The flora and fauna will comfort me, surely. They wither quickly, like my family did. I'm safe with them. In my rush, I fail to notice the taller figure of a man in front of me as I enter the greenhouse.

My head smacks straight into the figure's shoulder, he grunts and turns with arms outstretched as though to catch me should I fall. I don't fall but I do stumble back in my panicked shock and take in his appearance. Long, dark hair, heterochromic eyes of blue and brown, a lean build. He's incredibly handsome, and the beauty mark just below the left (my side) side of his mouth adds to his looks.

"I-" My words fail me as I stare at the man in complete awe. He's the even newer "Knight" I suppose. A moment of stunned silence overtakes us. The greenhouse calms as though even the plants were riled up by the outburst before calming with my own heartrate. "I'm so sorry." I finally blurt out.

The man doesn't seem to particularly care, almost apathetic even before realising I'm apologising. "Oh. It is no issue, I suppose I was the one blocking the doorway." He bows slightly before returning to his towering height.

"My name is Richard Sterling. I have been dubbed, The "Knight", of these games. If it is not too much to ask, would you be able to tell me what this entails?" His tone is sincere and face although fairly flat, there is a slight upturn to his lips. The sense of dread fills me once more as I realise he's asking for advice. Advice I cannot offer.

"I'm very sorry Mr Sterling. I, myself have not been present for any matches yet. I am able to show you the schedule however if you would like? I saw that our first match would be together I believe, so we can learn together." I try to pull a kind smile onto my lips and it works as he smiles in return.

"Yes, I would like that miss..?" He holds his arm out for me to take, I wrap my arm around his and begin to lead him.

"Y/n L/n, The Florist."

What did I come to the greenhouse for again? I strain my memory to try and remember but all I see is the embarrassing but enjoyable first meeting with Richard.

---fin.

Something short and sweet, I have more ideas for these two that I wanna get to working on. REQUESTS ARE OPEN BTW PEOPLE START SENDING THEM IN PLEASSEEE I BEG.

[patroxlos]

in another ask u said that reader feeds into his insecurities and worsens his abandonment issues could u explain it more? also loved how we got to know reader more in the last chapter it helps build character and made me think abt how much deep the reveal is gonna be (angst coming? 👀). tnks for the food💕

the angst will be coming! and they will be miscommunicating so much more than they are right now! im excited because ch8 is significant to establish the reader's motive >:) but to answer your question...

SUMMARY:

all will be revealed as the story progresses >:) i was intentionally vague in that ask because it hasnt been revealed in the story yet what caused you two to fall nearly out years ago, but that said im a yapper HAHAHA

your role as his childhood friend is significant bc u are tied to his past in japan, a place and culture he has very conflicting feelings about

he thinks you don't need him in your life esp because you're so confusing and indecisive about what you want from him

you both were very toxic for eo during your situationship.

If you want to see me yap about Kenji's abandonment and attachment issues, keep reading.

There is narrative purpose as to why I figured a childhood friend would fit in well with Ultraman: Rising's plot in itself

the movie is very family-centric, and a lot of how kenji achieves peace with himself in the film is by reconnecting with the past, be it his family or the culture he left behind

while i figured that it would be fun to write a reluctant team-up to lovers, bc ill be able to play around w kenji's personality pre-Emi, i also didnt see the place of a romance forming while he's struggling being a single mom

but i also wanted the story to take place during the movie's run bc i wanted to include Emi since she plays a big part in us learning who Ken is, so writing a fic that starts after the film didnt feel in the cards for me

since kenji grows as a person by the end of the film through making peace with his conflicting identities and his tumultuous past, i thought having a childhood best friend would make sense since i dont think he has the space to introduce anyone new in his life

bc reader is a childhood friend who he is meant to be close to, i cant write kenji interacting with reader the same way he is at the start of the film because there is a familiarity that breaks down his walls— which caused me to have a dilemma about how to characterize him

it also made me a bit sad that i cant write full-on ken sato the "egomaniac" bc i think thatll be fun since he's such a boyfailure

but that means that we see a softer ken when he interacts with reader, someone who is a bit more vulnerable with showing that he strives for further connections in his life even if he wants to look like he can do it all by himself

Kenji feels alone and disconnected from everyone, including you

it's also clear to the audience that kenji doesnt have any friends, and anyone he's friendly with is probably friends with him on a surface level. Ami states in their first interview that he is known as someone who keeps others at a distance, and who is untouchable

the team behind Ultraman: Rising did state that there is a deleted scene where he is clubbing, which is meant to show that he feels alone even in a sea of bodies. and his dad in the movie isnt surprised that he is throwing parties at his house, so it just clues us in that he probably lived life with very shallow connections and has filled his time with materialistic pursuits (e.g. his car collection...what he need a mclaren for)

i decided to make the reader someone from the 1% for two reasons: first being so that i can explain why her and kenji meet up over the years (i see a lot of friends who migrated to north america only once a year and we're still close!), and second, because i wanted you to be on the same playing field if not higher playing field than him.

Ken puts up the front that he doesn't need anyone else, but he is insecure about how he thinks you don't need him.

bc u have ur own things going on!! u have ur own friends

what makes it worse is that u genuinely think that kenji is the same. u think that since he's very successful, he would have his own thing

i havent touched up on it much yet, but it's very evident to kenji that you will readily pick yourself over him, which isn't a bad thing but it reminds him when his dad picked Ultraman over keeping his family together

ken feels like he can never be anyone's first choice or priority, and your situationship messes this up further

I haven't touched much on what happened between them yet in the story because it's building up to it, but

it soon feels for ken that youre only seeking him out on convenience. that he doesnt matter to you beyond what his body can do for you

bc spoiler: you are the villain in the situationship! you're the one who insists that everything is casual yet you keep the line blurry

^ karma is gonna get to u soon in the main storyline ure gonna be dry heaving when u realize u actually do want something with him

your constant back and forth with him will be revealed in the flashbacks... you not wanting more than a casual relationship yet youre talking abt what it would be like if you two got married???

Spoiler but during the situationship years, you're also the first one to say "I Love You" ROMANTICALLY yet youll later on backtrack and say that you didnt mean it in that way

can you blame him for getting confused and insecure about where you stand and whether or not he actually matters to anyone.

it doesnt help that his presence in your life is actively harming your reputation and career.

in ch8, it's briefly mentioned that ur media hate train is caused by ppl who are paying for bad press abt u starting from when you were 18. if you remember ch3-4, kenji freaks out abt a new article abt u two, and ch6 he was conscious of what others were saying.

one thing i want to elaborate in a separate post is that ken is AVOIDANT ATTACHMENT and reader is written to have DISORGANIZED ATTACHMENT.

Even if Kenji is avoidant due to his trauma of abandonment (e.g. self-reliant, avoids social connections), he can't help but yearn to be with you

so it's so confusing to him bc with everyone else, he would want to leave first. and he's close to leaving you so many times

yet you keep making these promises, saying sweet things about how much you need him, that he cant help but get roped into it a bit

When he is younger, he's fully aware that it is not a healthy mindset, but even if you're just using him at least it means that he still gets to be in your life. It makes him feel needed.

in the present timeline, sometimes those thoughts definitely cross his mind but at present he is focusing on maintaining the boundary you guys set about strictly being friends

So far I hope you caught in the story [as of ch8] from the subtext or dialogue that

in the present timeline, you are both 26 years old

the situationship started when you were 16 and lasted until you were 23

bc ure both high profile starting when you were 18, and u both publicly seem a lot closer than what ure claiming to be, it is well-documented that you two kind of go back and forth with each other (think justin and selena/shawn mendes and camila cabello)

(a new photo recently surfaced of shawn and camila together at Copa América and ppl were kind of confused as to whether or not they got back together again after breaking up for like the fourth time and i was like omg... home base core...)

when you both were 23, three years ago, you two had a really bad falling out caused by your previous situationship

it caused you officially end it for good, and while you maintained your friendship for those three years you weren't able to properly see each other face to face (partly. bc covid is canon in the fic HAHAHA but i havent talked abt it)

yall dont know how to act around eo anymore like why a little eye contact making u nervous .... yall had ur privates in eo's mouths (kenji munch next chapter soon promise hihi)...

since it is revealed that a large part of the hate train against you is paid for by people who want you out of power, kenji as much as possible wants to avoid being seen as more than friends with you atm bc he's worried it will derail your career

SORRY if it felt like I didn't say anything at all since I don't want to reveal too much at this stage lmao but I can do my best to elaborate on any points of interest!

[i-guess-im-into-this-now]

The Apothecary Diaries

S1E23 First Watch

Here's where I watch The Apothecary Diaries for the first time and give my thoughts, analysis, predictions, and occasionally I stumble into a joke.

If you want to start at the beginning:

Episode 1

My character/location cheat sheet

Fengxian: Maomao's courtesan mother

The show opens on Maomao's mother, who is in the late stages of her illness, delusional, softly singing a lullaby while moving around some Go pieces. Is she thinking of the past? The lover that she lost, or the baby that she had?

So the box that Maomao requested was a game. The English dub just calls it Chess, but I think it's called Shogi or the Chinese equivalent. Please correct me if I'm wrong. She challenges Lakan to a competition, who is giddy with delight. They will play best out of 5, no handicaps, and they call their prize before they begin.

Lakan: If I manage to best you. I want you to come and live with me.

Jinshi does NOT like that. Gaoshun reminds him that he promised not to interfere, but Lakan can't take his girl! Don't worry yet Jinshi, Maomao wouldn't be so bold if she didn't think she could win this bet. Have faith!

Lakan learns that Maomao is still under contract to work for Jinshi, and he makes a rude implication that has Jinshi grinding his molars.

And I think this is kind of weird. Just what does Lakan think or feel about his daughter? I don't know if he truly believes that there is something amorous going on between Maomao and Jinshi, but he's totally fine with implying that there is. They are talking about her contract here, and the implication that is being made is that Jinshi bought out Maomao's courtesan contract so that he could bring her to his house to service him solely. We the viewer know it's not true, and Lakan may have been able to pick up enough clues to realize it's not true, but still his joke is a weird one for a father to make. Is it just to get under Jinshi's skin? Or is it possible that he believes his daughter is truly acting as a courtesan? We know that Lakan has had dealings with courtesans in the past, and I'm glad he doesn't seem to have any prejudice against them and the work they do. Yet. I kind of thought maybe his whole reason for wanting to get Maomao to come live with him, was that he was trying to protect her from that work. Am I missing something here? Because it seems that's not the case. So if he doesn't want Maomao for her own sake, then he wants her for his own purposes. Which are??? Use her as another piece to maneuver? That doesn't seem quite right either, since she is the only one he doesn't see as a game piece. I don't know what this indecipherable man wants.

Maomao on the other hand wants Lakan to buy out an aging courtesan from the Verdigris House. Her delirious mother I assume. If that's her goal... is it really a good idea to put Maomao's mother into Lakan's care? Is he going to take care of her? It seems like if he intended to take care of her, he would have already stepped forward to do so. I know Maomao doesn't care about her mother, but she does take care of her when she visits the Verdigris House. Surely she wouldn't entrust any person to Lakan if she thought he would be a neglectful caregiver. I guess I just have to trust that Maomao knows these people better than I do, because this to me seems like a bad idea all the way around.

Maomao also adds a drinking element to the game, that includes poison. Also, if someone quits for any reason, they lose.

Lakan and Maomao are relaxed as they play, but Jinshi is worried. He doesn't like the terms or the rules of this game. Maomao loses the first round and is forced to drink, and Jinshi is the one sweating it. When she loses the second match, Jinshi starts to panic.

Lakan doesn't want to risk that Maomao might be poisoned by drinking a third cup, so he throws a game to drink one. If he drinks one that contains poison than he will know that Maomao is safe to lose her third game.

The cup that Lakan drinks from is poisoned, and he is not tolerating it well. Actually, the alcohol is far worse for Lakan than any medicine that Maomao may have added. Lakan famously abstains, and has no tolerance for alcohol. It's why he carries fruit juice with him everywhere.

So did Lakan know it was alcohol when he decided to drink it or did he think it tasted bad because of the medicine Maomao added? Either way, he agreed to the terms of the game and he has now lost the bet. Maomao never had to beat him at chess, she only had to risk drinking poison with a straight face which is an everyday activity for Maomao. Lakan lost the moment he agreed to play by Maomao's rules.

The show takes us back to see a young Lakan. He has hardcore face blindness, which makes for some very disturbing animation. Since he couldn't connect with people he devoted his time to playing Go and Chess. His uncle encourages him to identify people as chess pieces. His family name gets him a military position and Lakan tells us the following.

Lakan: Of all the games I've played. Chess with human pieces was the most fun I've ever had.

Chilling.

Lakan's inability to view people's humanity is frightening. Dangerous. A person without empathy. It's no wonder Maomao wants nothing to do with this man.

I do understand that Lakan's inability to recognize faces affects his ability to connect with other people, but wow, that's a whole lot different than viewing them as pawns you can manipulate for fun. I'm sure he was a brilliant strategist for the military, but the fact that he delighted in it, demonstrates his lack of humanity.

We learn that a courtesan named Fengxian from Verdigris House easily trounced Lakan in a game of Go. Finally he can see a human face. For years they played Go or Chess, slowly getting to know one another while they play.

Fengxian: A woman did give birth to me, but I have no mother. Because in the Pleasure District, a woman can never be a mother.

A pretty clear description of Fengxian's views on motherhood. If she maintained this view when she had her own daughter, then we can understand just what Maomao might have been dealing with. Also, didn't Maomao say something similar when she described Fengxian as the woman who birthed her?

Maomao: Maybe it's love. But if that's the case. It's not a rabbit hole I want to delve into. That's an emotion I'm sure I left behind. Back in the womb of the woman who birthed me. (Episode 18)

At the time I wrote that comment off to be because Maomao had experienced neglect, abuse or abandonment from her mother, which I do think is likely, however, Maomao's view of motherhood is perhaps not too different than Fengxian's. That a woman can never be a mother in the Pleasure District may be a common belief, but it isn't universal, because we saw the princesses, Pairin in particular, step up to fill the mother's role for Maomao.

Maomao has trash parents, but lovely found family.

Lakan tells us that Fengxian's price increased as she became more in demand. From then Lakan could rarely afford to meet with Fengxian.

Upon one visit Lakan learns that someone has bought out Fengxian's contract. She seems disappointed that she won't be able to meet with Lakan again. She makes a bet with him, with the highest stakes possible. Whoever wins, can take whatever they want from the other.

Lakan: Quite suddenly, a terrible thought crossed my mind.

He's thinking about that notorious way to lower the value of a courtesan isn't he? Just what is it that Fengxian wants from Lakan, I wonder? She has to know that he can't afford her contract. Could it be that she also wants to lower her value to avoid being bought out by someone else?

Lakan chooses to play Go, which we remember from an earlier episode that he could never defeat her in. Did he do this to give her the chance to ask something of him? To prevent himself from following through on that terrible thought that crossed his mind?

He does recognize that it's not right to impregnant a woman to lower her value. Is this because he has real feelings for Fengxian or that he simply acknowledges that it's manipulative? Does he think it's terrible because he would have to take responsibility for a child that is born this way? Or is it just terrible because time in bed would be a waste when they could be playing board games?

They never make it to the end of the game. Instead they sleep with each other and Fengxian tells Lakan that she wants to keep playing Go. She, like Lakan, likely has trouble connecting with other people. That they are well matched in intellect is like seeing another human for the first time. Everyone else is beneath them, not even human.

I'm convinced now that this was a tactical move from both of them. After all, Fengxian dismissed Meimei before they even started playing. Win or lose she was counting on sleeping with Lakan.

Lakan: There were no sweet words offered from Fengxian, nor from me for that matter. So in a way you could say we had similar natures.

Do these two care about each other at all or is it just that they don't express it? I have my doubts.

As Lakan is drifting off to sleep Fengxian sings a song, which I can only assume is the same one she tried to hum the day Maomao was in the annex to care for her. It is the same song from earlier in this episode where we see her in the present day playing with Go pieces on her bed. So her present day delusions are all about returning to this time which was the best period of her life. Before she had a baby, Before she cause syphilis, and everything fell apart.

But what is with singing the song in the past? I dipped into the Japanese with English sub to check the faithfulness of the translation:

Sleep, my baby, sleep. Where is she? She cries. Little birds are so innocent. Off they fly to somewhere far.

I'm not the best at interpreting poetry, so maybe someone else can help me with these lyrics. On it's surface it seems like a typical lullaby, but it could be taken as being about a loss of innocence since the innocent little birds fly away. Or perhaps since the birds leave, it could be about a desire for freedom? Both meanings could apply to Fengxian in this moment.

Wow. Okay. So Luomen is Lakan's uncle. I didn't see that coming. So there are blood ties between Maomao and Luomen.

In a fit of embarrassment and anger at Luomen's exile, Lakan's father also sends Lakan abroad. Fengxian's contract fell through and she made sure to alert Lakan, but it's not something he can deal with before his trip. It seems he intended to return to her, but it took three years before he could finally come back. He is greeted by a pile of letters. And a desiccated severed finger. A way to curse someone apparently. And there are two fingers there, a tiny one as well. What the fuck did Fengxian do? I suppose that this explains the nightmare Maomao had when she saw her mother with a knife. Does this have something to do with Maomao's twisted little finger? Did her finger get chopped off and reattached?

Fengxian took a chance when she decided to sleep with Lakan, and it destroyed her life. She ended up pregnant, which may have been okay, if Lakan had been there to buy her out when her value crashed. She was counting on him, and he wasn't there. It wasn't his fault, I think he would have bought her out if he was there, but the timing of everything was catastrophic for Fengxian. I suppose she didn't know he was out of the country, and her hatred grew, hence the finger severing curse. With that level of hatred I suppose it means she must have cared about Lakan, or perhaps she's just pissed that her plan fell through.

Lakan feels like a dumbass, which for a narcissist like him, is really saying something. He was so focused on playing Go and Chess that he didn't try to think of other ways to solve Fengxian and his problems, like impregnating her. Huh? Okay, I had that pegged wrong earlier. So then he must have thought his one night together with Fengxian was something special.

We get to see granny beating Lakan with a broom. She accuses him of not caring about a worthless courtesan and tells him that she's gone. She lost all of her value after being pregnant, and her actions hurt the reputation of the brothel. She had to take clients like a streetwalker where she contracted syphilis.

Lakan is too late to get what he wants from Fengxian. His fantasy with the high class courtesan ended when she lost her value and reputation. Now she is in a dire state, disgraced, diseased. So Lakan is distressed, but... fuck this guy.

l get that things fell apart while he was gone, but Fengxian is still alive at this point. She has a disease, but presumably she won't lose her mental capabilities until later down the line. He could still play Go with her. And even if she had lost her mind, fuck this guy! Does he really not care at all about her because of the things that have happened to her? He has zero capacity for actual love, like a psychopath. Many people become caregivers to the people they love when they become incapacitated. Only the shittiest walk away. Fengxian lost her reputation, her value, and her health, and Lakan is upset that she no longer fits into the perfect vision he had of her. Like seriously. FUCK. THIS. GUY!

I realize this is a HOT TAKE. And I stand ready to be corrected. But based on all I have seen thus far, Lakan is still a pretty shitty dude. I saw someone mention in a comment on one of these blogs about Lakan stans. At the time I thought to myself how the hell are there Lakan stans? It made me think that there was probably more to his story than I had seen up to that point. Well here is more, but it wasn't enough to make me like this character.

I could probably be convinced that he had real feelings for Fengxian, but then where the hell has he been all these years? Is it that Fengxian hated him and didn't want to see him? That she sent him severed fingers in an attempt to curse him would support that.

My opinion on Lakan still stands, even if Lakan loves Fengxian, and Maomao, and has been doing all he can to get back to them, he's still a shitty guy that seems to lack basic empathy. Like, he will only treat someone as a person if he is personally invested? I can't like a person like that.

Back to the present time, Lakan wakes up in Verdigris House and Meimei kindly tends to him. Apparently after he forfeited his game with Maomao by blacking out drunk, he was deposited here to fulfill his end of the bargain.

Is the fact that Fengxian's illness has progressed to delusions now allowed her to forget about her hatred of Lakan? She was seen tying to play Go and singing an old lullaby in the beginning; is she thinking fondly of old times? Does Maomao think now that Fengxian is more out of her mind, she would be willing to see Lakan? Regardless, she's about to end up with him now.

Maomao concocted a bitter beverage for Lakan and gifts him a dried blue rose. Maomao's message: leave the people I care about alone.

After all, Lakan requested blue roses from Jinshi, a nearly impossible thing for him to procure. Maomao made it happen because she didn't want to let Lakan get away with trying to manipulate Jinshi. The roses were all a ploy to draw Maomao out, which it did, but only for her to defend Jinshi and send a message to Lakan to back off.

The rose Maomao left for Lakan is dried. From an earlier time perhaps. Maybe blue roses were a tradition at Verdigris House or something that Fengxian knew the secret to. Perhaps the the blue rose simply represents Fengxian, and Maomao gifts it to Lakan to represent the meaning behind her bet, I'm giving Fengxian to you. There is a secondary meaning here that I don't know the meaning of. But Lakan does.

Cut to Maomao riding in a carriage with the always cheery Basan, where she pulls out a blue rose bud. Is this the bud she helped grow and create for the Garden Party or a dried one from the past? Is she thinking about whatever connection the blue rose has to her mother or is she thinking about what she did to grow these roses for Jinshi? Is she hoping that her message to Lakan will be enough to protect Jinshi and anyone else he may target? Enough to get Lakan out of her life?

I truly hope that this is the last episode with Lakan's POV. I hope to never see these faceless animations ever again.

If you want to read these from the beginning:

Episode 1

Next episode:

Episode 24

[spacingoutforever]

PLOT THEORY FOR S2 - Fallout

**MANY FALLOUT SPOILERS AHEAD - read at your own risk**

i have this weird theory that the juxtaposition we see between Cooper's outwardly grim appearance vs his morals being intact, and then Max's outwardly normal appearance vs his morally neutral choices, might be a way of telling us more about looks being deceiving for future developments.

hear me out.

Max is knocked out as soon as he finds out about Shady Sands, but he was definitely intending to do some damage, revenge had its hooks in him from the beginning. it was always there, whether it be to regain the honor the Brotherhood took away from him, then evolving into being part of the trio that was now after Hank. the man who robbed him of his home, family and hope for the future.

i saw a video essay discussing the moral choices of Lucy and Cooper's characters and i really liked the criteria they created for measuring it - ill link it below.

she says there's 2 main parts:

1. loss of control

2. being unrecognizable after enduring hardship

whether you agree with this criteria or think there's more to be added, i like how simple of a base it provides, when approaching these complex characters.

so if we then apply this to Max, he is the only member of our main cast who exhibits both points.

1. loss of control:

this is distinct to me in the Philly shoot-up, where he isn't able to control the T-60 power armor enough to put up a fair fight against The Ghoul. literally crash-lands it and then gets flung into the atmosphere LIKE PLS

he mistakenly attacks the people of Vault 4, once again losing control of his power.

the chicken-guy .... trying to derail that argument but saving the wrong person ><

Note: it's FASCINATING if you look at his character metaphorically, because the power armor is someone having the means for good but not having the understanding of what true 'good' means to them, yet. the power armor is LITERALLY his OUTWARD POWER like who is he really, underneath it??!!!!

we don't have this problem with Cooper and Lucy right now, their power is shown to be INWARD. the Ghoul's experience/connection to the beginning, and hers is her obvious moral strength and perseverance. they overlap.

i feel that his character is supposed to lean into the apprentice archetype, where he is currently lacking a proper teacher to show him the ropes. at first we expected Lucy to fit this role because of her inexperience on the surface, and yet when given a 'mentor' she not only challenges him but proves she can handle herself. ruling that one out, and leading us to believe the fate-intertwined aspect of ghoulcy has a touch more to it. implicit rather than explicit.

2. being unrecognizable after enduring hardship

Max to me fits this point too, because we still don't get a glimpse into who he truly is, besides knowing his past. from the beginning, his goal is to be a Knight of the Brotherhood, that's how he defines himself currently.

when he fights off the gulper, he reiterates this line to himself: "i am a Knight of the Brotherhood of Steel".

he says it AGAIN in response to Lucy's advances in the vault. which is a clue into how much he relies on it for his moral code, to the point where it crosses into his personal decisions. not just for 'missions' or survival.

this is like foreshadowing a tipping point for me, because without the Brotherhood, what does he want? he's acting in alignment of the code that was pushed on him, but it always feels like he has to remind himself to BE that.

that it doesn't come naturally, the way the other characters' do. we see this at the start where he gets the answer wrong in class, he's bullied, an 'outcast' within his own community (for lack of a better term).

by comparison, the Ghoul isn't even a real 'outcast' in the way cowboys are stereotypically portrayed, because he fits in the wasteland better than anyone.

so point 2. becomes relevant when he gets the armor and is unrecognizable from where he started. this is a point he never thought he'd get to, but he sacrifices his real identity to get there.

SO ALL THIS TO SAYYYY...... that's where i feel his character will be vulnerable to a villain-arc!

in the ending, he gets accepted as a Knight, but his expression betrays him. there is a continuous inner conflict within Maximus that is SO SUBTLE and its written so beautifully. i think we're going to see ghoulcy pushing each other in the right direction. their shared journey seems to be about regaining HOPE.

but for Max, i feel in my bones that something darker is coming for his arc, it feels like revenge. the goofy, lovable boy in the clunky armor, may very well end up having the darkest battle to face. and it's because he's alone in doing it.

this was a lot to digest, so if you made it this far i thank you from the bottom of my heart!!!!!!!

AND if you have anything to add i would love to hear it :) !!!!

[onlymurdersintheafterparty]

Updated OMITB S4 Killer Theory

After watching this week's episode I have a new theory for who killed Sazz. There are some plot holes proving otherwise but for now this is what is sticking with me the most. I think it also ties some of these storylines together. I'm putting this all under a spoiler tag just in case since it hasn't been a full day yet.

I think Bev is actually Dudenoff. From what we know so far, Dudenoff is rarely ever home and is currently in Portugal. Bev living and working in Los Angeles means that she could go back and forth collecting rent, hire someone to do so, or just have it deposited directly. Maybe she inherited one of the apartments, saw an opportunity for the others and took it. Plus it's a nice side hustle that can help to fund her film projects.

The mysterious person in the group with their face scratched out could very well be Helga. Vince said that Helga was the wrong type of weirdo and Rudy, Inez, and Ana were all trying to paint her as mentally ill and paranoid. I think we can assume she's not dead since we heard her on the radio, but she is clearly in hiding meaning she didn't leave the West Tower on her own accord. I think she uncovered a secret about Dudenoff or whatever other crime these Westies are into and was going to tell Charles so he could expose it on the podcast.

Sazz was digging around searching for clues before she was killed, even going so far as to discover that someone was watching Charles and gaining access to the code for the Dudenoff apartment. This season has been playing around a lot with the concept of stunt doubles, twins, and actors portraying actors. What if Sazz bore a strong resemblance to Helga and was successfully able to pass as her which is how she got entry to the Dudenoff apartment? If the theory that Helga was going to snitch is correct, maybe during the night of the party one of the Westies looked out the window, saw Sazz in Charles' apartment and thought she was Helga and killed her to keep her from telling?

If Bev is Dudenoff there is a possibility that she was in attendance at the party at the end of season 3 and was also in town to collect the rent owed by the Westies. Maybe at the party she saw Sazz and because of the Sazz/Helga lookalike theory thought Helga was in disguise to get close to Charles. Having her side hustle exposed would lose her money and with how she hounded the trio to sign over their movie rights she sounds like she's struggling financially. In episode 4, the actors are referred to as faces because there's a dynamic where stunt people don't get recognition for their work and aren't recognized outside of the work that they do. At the party when they discuss the wine Charles has upstairs, Bev could have overheard that Sazz was going up to get it and saw that as her chance to strike. As Dudenoff it would be easy to run over to the apartment she owns and gain access to get the job done. Plus we now know she knows how to handle a gun after she is seen holding the trio at gunpoint at the end of the episode.

The question remains whether Sazz was the intended victim or Charles and I'm still going to go with Sazz for now. I know there's the whole "Everybody hates Charles" agenda but he's basically a homebody so I doubt there would be enough interactions over time for someone to actually hate him. The only other reason is that a family member of one of the victims in the podcast or the killers is mad at him for profiting off of their death like what the bartender said at Concussions.

So this is where I'm at right now theory wise. There is still plenty of time to change that because we have 6 episodes left. I know there's so much more to be discovered so I can't wait to see what direction the show will take over the next few episodes.

[v3nusxsky]

Mommy knows

*Authors note~ long time no see people! This is definitely inspired by the last week of so of my life, and I thought this would be the perfect fic to get me back into posting for y’all again. Apologies to the anon for adding things they didn’t specifically mention. Come along for the tornado of emotions with me and enjoy the ride*

Trigger warnings~ mommy dom (LW) subby (L) pinning love sick Lesso, distance, phone sex? Sexting, slightly bratty Leo degrading praise slight angst? Hints of age regression easily skipped over

Prompt~see ask^^^^

The Dean of Evil could never have anticipated she’d be in this state right now, after all the clue was in her title. Evil. Yet right now she couldn’t look the furthest thing from evil even if she tried. In fact, one could say that the salty tear drops caressing her pale cheeks, the almost childish way she’d clutched on the blanket wrapped around herself as she tried to make herself look smaller and the intricate tangles of her fiery curls made her look quite pathetic actually. Weak she’d argue. But there’s nothing weak at falling to the curse of love sickness.

Larissa left for Nevermore 10 short hours ago, and Leonora was missing her lover terribly, so terribly that eating, sleeping, showering and drinking were all things that made her feel physically Ill. The pillows still smelt like her blonde lover, the blanket she was snuggled up in being a poor attempt to mimic the blondes arms, all meant leaving this bed was not happening. Perhaps if she stayed in bed Larissa would strut into the room like she had the previous weeks before. Droplets of water falling from her enchanting locks of hair, towel snuggly tied just above her milky white breasts that Leonora adored so much. The towel of course just kissed the tops of Larissa’s thighs due to her height, something Leo found herself missing. She was jealous of how the towel would be close to Larissa (instead of her) which of course would have had the blonde woman chuckling before joining Lesso on the bed.

Memories seemed to plague the red head, her phone holding photos and videos of their time together only seemed to make her crave her girlfriend more. If one thing Leonora was sure of, it was that distance from Larissa Weems was something she hated entirely. Watching the blonde leave as they both sobbed was now ingrained inside her mind, a constant reminder of much fun they’d had together, that had now ended. Of course both women knew it would end, school semesters were approaching and Nevermore wouldn’t run without it’s amazingly devoted principal weems, and of course it was Lesso’s job to help create a balance between good and evil this year. But now, three days before the semester is due to start, lesso can’t find it in her to care, so what do good wins again? If she has her Isa then that’s all that counts.

Arriving back at Nevermore was bittersweet for sure. On one hand the blonde was glad to be home but on the other she’d left her heart back at the school for evil. Now wandering the halls of Nevermore she felt numb. Alone. Numb. Lost. A shell of her former self before her holiday trip. Much like her lover, nothing felt right anymore, she found herself looking for Leo, to be waiting for the next bratty comment so she could swiftly put her sweet girl back in her place. But it never came, because she was alone.

Larissa had warned two close friends of hers she would be in need of assistance upon her arrival, Marilyn and Mortica Addams seemed to have forgotten that as they were no where to be seen. All staff had to be back at the grounds today to prep for the students arrival within the next 48 hours. So it hurt to feel so alone even though she knew people who were meant to care were around. What hurt Larissa most was to see both her friends happily chatting away in the halls while she could hardly keep herself upright due to the ache in her heart. If only Leonora was here, then she wouldn’t be alone at all. Perhaps that’s why Larissa made her way to her office and locked herself away from the world. Who wants to see love and joy when they’ve had there’s taken away by a long distance.

Texting and calling felt wrong now. How can something that had been a life line before, feel so empty and wrong now? It should’ve been like going back to normal but instead it felt new and well odd. Things didn’t change, Larissa still reminded her dove to eat, drink and to try not to kill anyone every day, just like she had every day since they took this step together. And sometimes Lesso would listen, but only sometimes. Yet both women could feel the ache the presence of their other half had left. This well and truly sucks.

Eventually, life got back into the swing of things, both women being overloaded with work meant there wasn’t much time to overthink the ache in their chests. But Larissa had noticed a few things, as busy as Wednesday Addams had her, she could never not notice her Doves needs. See Larissa often knew then before Leonora did. It had been weeks since the last bratty smart mouthed comment, weeks since she’d seen Leo let her guard down and slip out of the dean head space. So it would’ve been weeks of headaches and built up emotions that the red head was locking away from the world, herself, and her mommy. And that just wouldn’t do, so naturally the blonde found the needed solution.

Lesso could not sleep. She’d been trying for hours now. The problem? She wanted Larissa. Well mommy, but now wasn’t the time for those thoughts, no matter how much she craved her mommy’s touch or her ability to always know just what to do. Yet for hours all she could do is think and crave and battle this problem. A dull vibration caught her attention, immediately she knew just who caused it.

“Dove, why aren’t you sleeping? It’s much to late for my sweet girl to be up”

Damn it! How did she always know when lesso broke a rule. Immediately a quick smart response was sent on its way, and this continued back and forth.

“I don’t want to. And I’m not sweet”

“But you are my darling girl, and you need to sleep sweetheart, you promised to look after yourself until I can come home to do so”

“I don’t care anymore. You can’t make me”

“Oh but I can Dove, don’t be a brat and listen to mommy”

“Fuck you”

The bubbles popped up and disappeared a few times as the red head was sat worrying her bottom lip waiting for the response that never came, instead the shrill ringing sound filled the room instead. Fuck. Taking a quick breath she hit answer.

“Care to repeat that dove?” She growled out causing the red head ti shake her head negative before remembering that Larissa couldn’t see her. “Leonora, do not make me repeat myself” quickly followed her silence.

“No mommy, I- I didn’t” she stuttered now only realising her mistake of letting her temper flare.

“You didn’t what baby? You didn’t mean to be a brat? You didn’t mean to get my attention in the wrong way because you can’t use your big girl words? Or you didn’t mean to hurt mommy? Which one is it my darling?” By the tone she could tell her mommy wasn’t happy and that made the guilt start to bubble in the lower part of her stomach.

“Last one, I’m sorry” was whimpered into the phone as her eyes glassed over with a sheen of unshed tears. Truly, she didn’t want to hurt her lover’s feelings but the emotions had built insanely high and craved release in the way only she could provide.

“Oh so you aren’t sorry for being a bratty dove? Hmm? That just won’t do now will it?” The sentence itself looking like a question but deep down the redhead knew the implied meaning just by the sheer tone of voice.

“No mommy, I’m sorry I’ll try to be good! Just miss you really bad” Leonora whimpered into the phone, not sure what she wanted other than to go back and be Larissa’s good dove. The tell tell beeps of the phone hanging up was enough to shock Leonora back to reality. She’d really been hung up on…

But she wasn’t alone with her thoughts for long, pictures and messages filled her phone, her mommy show casing everything Leonora could have had. Every picture and every dirty text message detailed how Larissa wanted to play with her slutty toy but was a solid reminder of just what she’d lost.

“Mommy! Please I’m sorry I’ll be good I’m sorry mommy” the redhead begged after attempting to call her girlfriend back only to be ignored, she knew just what Larissa Weems would be doing, her own private quarters had mirrors everywhere, the angles were perfect and lesso knew how heavenly her whines and mewls of pure pleasure sounded like, this wasn’t fair at all.

An hour. 60 whole minutes. That’s how long the torture of begging and being ignored or denied went on. It was safe to say lesso was going insane until Larissa finally answered her call, out of breath with her signature teasing tone that was just for Leonora. “Poor baby, did you need mommy? Poor little whore of mine wanted mommy to let her see hmm?”

Tears started to fall as her need to be corrected, loved and comforted back to one piece again rose to the fore front of her mind. “I’m sorry mommy. Please help me I’m sorry I needed that, I’ll be good now I promise let me be good for you.” With a quick click of the button the phone call became a video call. Larissa being as naked as the day she was born, a beautiful flush covering her pale body due to her previous activity. “Be a doll for me then and get mommy’s favourite toys for you to use on yourself” she instructed as lesso scrambled off the bed to do so, “but crawl pup! Show me what a pretty bitch you can be for me.”

Stings of humiliation was soon covered by pride as Larissa groaned at the sight of the strong put together woman on her knees because Larissa demanded it, she’d made her lover feel good and that never failed to encourage the dean. Perhaps that’s how she ended up with the special dildo that Larissa had gifted her for Christmas magically thrusting in and out of her needy cunt. Her magical ability being used to mark up her pretty thighs at Larissa’s demand. All while Larissa murmured the most filthy words possible to her bratty girl.

“Mommy! Hurts! Please wanna cum” the poor woman squeezed while trying to squirm away from the magical toy. She knew the rules and would do near enough anything to follow them. Having her mommy’s attention now, she most definitely didn’t want to lose that. “Poor baby, is mommy hurting you?” The faux concern drew a whimper from Lesso, “no I can’t be, look at how you’re soaking my thick dick with your slutty juices sweet girl, look at your pretty cunt for me.” On instinct both pairs of eyes focused on Leonora’s sex soaked core.

“Good pup for me aren’t you dove? My good girl? Such a perfect slut for me. Mine. You’re mine Leonora, say it” Larissa almost growled causing the dean to fall into submission. “Yes mommy’s. I’m mommy’s please please please!” By now all she knew was Larissa. This sweet torture finally breaking down her walls, all the heartache, the fear, the sadness and the loneliness was gone and replaced with Larissa. This, them making each other feel good, would always be right. “That’s all my sweet baby needed hm? You needed mommy to break you down huh? My good little pup, let go darling, cum for me my love” was all the permission she needed as her inner walls milked the faux cock for all it was worth and Larissa’s praised flew around her brain, creating the beauty of sub space.

Sub space was one of Leonora’s favourite headspace’s for sure, she was safe,content, loved and well fucked. Normally Larissa would be met with a dopey smirk and soft lingering touches as her girlfriend cling to her body. Not having this safety blanket was what caused the red head to start sobbing as she came back to reality. “Oh my darling girl, what’s wrong Leo? What can I do sweet girl? What can mommy do?” Larissa coed down the phone hoping to somehow help. Truly seeing Leonora so upset was devastating. “Want you” was gasped out as the tears now consumed her body and breathing was a struggle, “please” she whimpered so quietly, sounding absolutely heartbroken. “I know sweet girl, I’ll be back soon my love, you must talk to me darling, don’t keep this all bottled up inside. I miss you terribly too Leo. Much more than I have missed anyone before. I love you my sweet little dove.”

They say time heals all wounds, but this time all time did was provide a simple bandaid, simply holding the hearts together until they could be back in one piece. A temporary solution to a temporary problem. Naturally this situation occurred more than a few times while both women had to be apart, and it soon became more normal but odd at the same time. But every day was that one day closer to being able to hold each other again. To be home.

Word count~ 2376

[petpippin]

୨ৎ sweet escape! — chifuyu mats.

it came first with the shoujo mangas he'd bashfully keep hidden under his mattress, vowing to never have that guilty pleasure slip to even his best friend, baji.

there had just been something about whirlwind romances, the fateful meet of a guy and a girl, destined to evolve into something deeper that set chifuyu's cheeks ablaze, having to fight the urge to grin so stupidly.

he'd always considered himself a tough guy, too.

hands shoved into the pockets of his ill-worn pants, hair put up in a way that looked so cool. (there had gone months before baji had set him straight with that awful 'do.)

but there'd always been something about those types of girls, that stayed with him.

charms that jingle as they skipped by, all soft-spoken, with gentle hands and tooth-rotting smiles. the type of girl that'd shrink under the scrutiny of bigger guys like baji, or draken, yet would curl up so perfectly in chifuyu's palm.

yeah. girls like that, girls, it so happens, like you.

which is why chifuyu is counting every lucky star in the damn sky, when you, fumbling with your hands, let a pink-tinted pencil slip from your grasp.

staring habit ramming into him like full-speed train, chifuyu barely has time to react before he's bending down, nearly making it a race, picking up the jingling little thing for you.

he nearly stares you into the ground, growing red and flustered, shakily handing you back your pencil.

"here's-- your-- pe-en-cil," it's a dire realization chifuyu is quick to make in that moment, that he definetly isn't making the introduction he'd desperately dreamed of.

but you don't laugh at him. you try to smile, just as bashful and shy as he is, just as quick to snatch your pencil back.

it's unfortunate, much to chifuyu's dismay, that mere days after your encounter, baji has him all figured out.

the red thread doesn't even directly lead to you at first, the captain's first clue being the few curious bumps along his vice-captain's bed.

mistaking them for the racier of magazines is baji's very first blunder, as it had only lead to a hefty stack of brightly-lit, cutesy cartoons.

chifuyu couldn't die with dignity after that, but he did decide to make peace with the humiliation that would come of his most prized possession.

it's a sacrifice he would readily make, but with you, that one proved a harder task.

stealing glances, touches chifuyu could sneak, noting each and every of your little quirks. baji has long dug his grave.

it comes to a damning head, one fateful day, one where baji has been smirking so ominously all morning, that chifuyu doesn't even know what to make of it.

they're waddling the dozey early-morning halls, only so happening to pass a certain someone that has him momentarily rearing his head.

that was what chifuyu had hoped, at the very least. a glance at the very pretty girl who's presence he had been graced, perhaps catching the trill of a new charm dangling from your phone.

and yet, with a singular, cunningly placed elbow to the side, chifuyu had went stumbling like an idiot.

knocking into you, death should've never come quicker. but such mercy didn't befall upon him, and baji was only watching on.

it only worsens when something falls out of chifuyu's pocket, and now it's your turn to pick it up. and by god, does he immediately recognize that awful handwriting.

you look up at him, suddenly turned all giggly, a ring so sweet it overrules any of your little trinkets.

you smile, briefly glancing over the note. much to chifuyu's dismay, it's littered with hearts and he's, unfortunately, actually able to make out what's been written.

something along the lines of. . . a confession.

time freezes for such a while that chifuyu doesn't know whether to cry or take off running, in a stupor only managing to freeze up completely.

an angel stands before him, the overhead lights suddenly simulating early death. was it just chifuyu imagining the heavenly light?

"okay. i'll go out with you."

you're grinning so hard your cheekbones ache, and chifuyu soundlessly crashes back onto earth.

the lights even out in the background, and he mirrors your smile with vigour, a short breath of 'really?'

chifuyu doesn't know who he'd rather kiss.