#no one hates florida more than someone who has lived here for at least a decade

[cravethesky]

“people in florida get what they deserve”

listen man… that’s valid for like anyone who moved here in the last 3 years cause they wanted to eat desantis’ ass. but the rest of us just wanna be able to get through the week without having to worry if it’s gonna be fascism or storm surge that kills us first.

[pleasantglitterflower]

The dark side of envy (Joe Burrow x Burrow!sister x Patrick Mahomes)

Tw: envy, hatred, anger, resentment, displays of narcissism and psychopathy

NCAA Championship 2017- Clemsom x Alabama - Tampa, Florida

Janine had just won the college football championship for the Alabama Crimson. It had been a fantastic season for the young wide receiver. She walked towards her parents with the trophy in her hands, all proud, seeing her brother in the middle of the way, all smiles with open arms to welcome her.

-Jan, I can't believe it, I'm so happy for you, you're a champion. - Joe tries to hug her, but she walks right past him, pushing her arm hard against his chest.

-Get out of here, you little shit. - She strode towards her parents.

Joe stood there, embarrassed and not knowing what to do.

-Oh my God, daughter, I'm so proud, you won the college championship. - Her mother shakes her hard, before she and her father give her a triple hug.

-Now that we have a champion, next year we'll all be in the stands, cheering for Joseph. - She just forced a smile at her father's comment.

CURRENT DAYS

A lot has happened between Janine and Joe, her twin brother, but of all these many things, the most important one, without a doubt, was his effort to be with his sister, to show her that he loves her and wants to be part of her life.

Janine, on the other hand, is the kind of person who, when she realizes she is good at something, uses it to bring everyone down to earth.She has become the most poisonous and manipulative person Joe has ever met in his life and she loves being like that, the kind of unbearable person who only shows herself like that when everyone around her is already tied down enough to her and her ego.

Her words at first made him laugh, his mother would say “It’s just her way”, “She loves you”, “You are siblings, she would never hate you”.

But it’s not quite like that.Janine has never been able to see anyone being better than her and when she does, it’s better that that person is someone she really loves.

Like her husband Patrick.

Someone who is hard to overcome, hard to shake, hard to deal with and hard to hate.

She knew she couldn't compete with him, so why not combine business with pleasure?

Mahomes fell in love with her strength, her desire to be the best in everything she does and the way she is with her family.

At least until they get married.

-We finally have someone we can proudly call a quarterback- She boasts, still wearing a veil, with a glass of champagne in her hands, giving her husband a peck on the lips, who laughs awkwardly.

Joe, sitting at the table with his parents, heard it and started laughing, hoping it was just a joke, but it wasn't. Janine hates him.

As the years went by, the annoyance became more and more explicit at family dinners, making birthdays, the rare holidays they could spend together, a living hell for his parents, siblings, nephews, and husband, for everyone except Janine, who enjoys watching her brother with his head down, without the courage to retaliate, because he wouldn't be able to say a single word that he knew would hurt her, out of respect for his sister and love.

Actually, Joe never understood what love in a family is. Some people are easily lovable, while others, like Janine, even though he had more reasons to hate them, just thinking about it made him feel incredibly guilty and his conscience weighed on him. She was his sister and all she had to do was receive her love, no matter how much it cost him.

-You need to listen to this new Kendrick Lamar song, this guy never tires of changing the rap industry- Joe says, ecstatic as always, when the subject is his favorite genre.

-You again with that low-level and derogatory noise, please improve. Although what could I expect from you, right Joseph- His smile died and so did the conversation and smiles at the table.

-Jan please, you are married to a black man, you know better than anyone how important this song is for the whole society, that the lyrics talk about real problems, not stupid love affairs- He tries to keep the conversation going.

-Any John Lennon song already does the job, we are in the 21st century, no one is an idiot- she replied.

Seeing Patrick uncomfortable, she sat down next to him with her plate made, now she would need to disguise the situation.

-But of course if Patrick likes it I respect it, especially because he listens to artists and not gangsters.

They weren't just arguing about music.

-I've been thinking about maybe finishing my studies, maybe changing fields, it might be good for the future- Joe confessed to Jamie, his older brother.

-Joe, you're almost 30, do you really think now is the time to think about that? You wanted to waste your time with these ridiculous courses, you don't even have enough intellect to do anything else- Janine makes the comment. Dan, the middle brother, immediately snorts.

-You talk as if you were a respected journalist, when all you do is spread fake news on social media, what kind of intellect do you have, Janine Burrow? It's because of people like you that others hate journalists. Give us a break, girl- The brother stomped off.

-Far be it from me to be bored enough to judge other people's lives, especially since I have real problems to think about, but it's very interesting how you think that finance is less important than marketing. Don't forget that your beloved husband didn't graduate, but your brother has a master's degree, something that not even you have. - It was Jamie's turn to throw it in her face.

-I think it's better to focus on your problems, Jamie, and go pay your mortgage. - The brother's hatred is visible, from the looks on his face they would easily kill each other right there, in the Burrow family's living room.

But nothing in the world moved Joe more than when she decided to criticize the only thing that Joe was most proud of in the world, not a football trophy or a degree, but his foundation.

A foundation he wanted the whole family to be a part of and help out equally, something that would be something from his family to the others, but someone refused to be a part of it.

-Joseph, I've been thinking, I want to make a photo album for the foundation of all these moments we've spent together and most of all, it would be really cool if we had an annual photo with whoever wanted to participate, to show how many lives we've touched, it would be really cool- Robin focuses partly on the Thanksgiving pie and partly on what the Burrow siblings are doing in the kitchen, to make sure nothing gets out of hand.

-I was thinking about doing some TV commercials with the kids to try to get more visibility and donors. With that, I believe we could extend the donations to the state. I feel really bad about only being able to help our hometown. I even spoke to Jamie and he loved the idea. - Joe explained, trying not to get dirty with all the seasonings he puts in his food.

-It will be really good. We can see which kids feel comfortable speaking out, if their parents allow them to participate, and then we can put it on TV. If the feedback is positive, we can even get support from interested companies. - The older brother explained to Robin, who agreed excitedly.

-Doing charity and advertising? If you want to be seen so much, put a watermelon on your head and go naked in the street. It had to be Joseph's idea. He's trying to buy sainthood. If you show charity to everyone, it's better not to do it. - Janine hurt him in the worst way.

-That way we'll get more donors, more interested people who will help. - He tried to explain.

-I have projects like that and I don't need anyone to know when I make deals with other people, I also don't need anyone to know, I just go there and ask them to see the project and help. You're ridiculous, you only think about fame, did you know that I even have a project with the NFL itself? - She boasts.

The silence in the kitchen takes over.

-I encourage girls to dream and maybe make it to the NFL - she was soon interrupted by Jamie.

-Do you know what your mistake was Robin? Joseph not being Josephine, because she would beat Janine to a pulp - Jamie leaves the plate she is making, going to the sink to wash his hands.

-Or rather, my intellect isn't that bad, it's your fault, dad, because the man is the one who defines sex. Besides, it's your fault that this girl is like this, because you didn't raise her right, you just did everything she told you to do, you two are wimps and now we have to put up with this bitch talking shit - Jamie leaves in a hurry with Jim, his father, calling him. 

-Don't beg me to come back, I'm almost 50 years old, I don't need this shit, I'm going back to my family who are saner - He shouted, leaving the house. 

-Janine, this behavior is unacceptable and you know it - Robin tries to correct her daughter. 

Although Jamie always gets on her case about what she does to Joe, he is her favorite brother and is always around, because for some reason the anger goes away. 

For this very reason, Joe always felt forced to do the same, but for Jamie, who was never offended, it was easy to forgive. 

And when her mother got stressed about the situation and called her to talk and take it easy on Joe, she gives her best acting.

-Joseph has always been the favorite, you always loved him more than me, because I'm a girl, you always celebrated everything he does and never cared about what I do- She opened his mouth and started to cry.

Jim dried her face, which began to burn, and when he felt his chest tighten, seeing his little daughter sad, he quickly went to her and hugged her tightly, while Robin remained firm.

-You know better than anyone that we always did everything equally for both of us. When you won the NCAA, we threw a party and kept Joe hopeful that his ring would arrive, and when he won, we threw a party and kept you hopeful that one day greater victories would come. So swallow your tears, because you have nothing to complain about us, girl, not in that sense, we always did everything equally.

But none of that is enough to stop her.

Patrick discovered a blog years ago, something very common until he was a teenager, where there was always some special subject for the author that it addressed, until it was replaced by long videos on platforms with the same style. But the more time passed, the more he spent with Janine and returned to the blog, the stranger everything became.

Investigating was not enough, she is his wife and knows her well, but he does not have the courage to ask if she had a blog when she was a teenager.At least until the day came to clean the garage, she had to get everything there in time, so why not during the holidays?

He took down the boxes, got ladders and a bench to tidy up the place and take a break from her pink world, it seemed like a good thing.Among the dolls, books, photographs, old telephones studded with crystals, making him laugh at the fashion of the time and also at imagining her at that age, he found an old diary with a broken padlock.

He opened it, imagining that they were drawings, because he himself loved to draw, but showing them to anyone would only be embarrassing. Even among the various scribbled pages, he found some rants about his family, very similar to the ones on the blog, nothing too different from what she talks about every day, so he wasn't too worried.

Until he saw one reference in particular, which left no doubt.

“Just one”

That's what the girl on the blog always said, because according to her, she wished she had been the only one born on that December 10, 1996.

Patrick didn't even blink, everything seemed to stop around him. It couldn't really be her, his wife saying those things about her family on the internet, for everyone to see, as much as he hoped to know that it really is, it's too heavy for him.

She didn't see when he came to her in the living room, she just threw the notebook for her to catch and by the look on her face, she knew exactly what it meant.

-I already know about the shit you did- He said loudly, catching her attention.

-That's good then- She let the notebook fall on the couch and went back to looking at the phone.

-If you still want to live in this house, be my wife and have the slightest bit of my respect, find a way to fix this situation, because if this becomes public, it won't be very good, besides, everything you wrote about them is disgusting and knowing them Janine, I know it's a lie - Mahomes yelled 

-Of course it's a lie, Joseph is too soft, he would never be able to fight back against me, but it made everything much more fun- She couldn't stop laughing.

Patrick stares at her seriously, not believing what he heard, and then she finally sees that he is really angry.

-And what are you talking about me? What did you lie about me to people or, I don't know, on some fake login somewhere? Fix this or this marriage ends here. - His ultimatum came out, leaving her alone in the living room with many worries, but not about feelings or what she did, but about being discovered and what she would do.

She took the diary and threw it in the trash can on the street, calmly returned to her house, not imagining that there would be a photographer there at that moment, wanting to see the facade of the house, after the recent renovation.

Unfortunately for her, he waited for her to come in and stop the movement at the door, to hang on the trash and pick it up, which for him at one moment seemed crazy, soon became true, since when he opened it, he found something too heavy and soon saw the same thing as Patrick.

Patrick was soon asked at the press conference.

Chaos ensued.

The Mahomes family was shocked, since they had no suspicions about this evil and dark side of Janine.

The Burrow family was devastated, due to so much exposure, each one of them was exposed there in an almost indiscreet way, with only their identities hidden.

Anyone who knew Janine and the way she talks about them would know it was her, because she talks about many things that happened, but also invents many others to make herself look poor.

Anyone who only knew the Burrow family would be suspicious, but would never have guessed that Janine would do this.

Joe was seen by Ja'marr, crying in the training center, hiding, afraid of being found, wondering what bad thing he did in his life for his sister to hate him so much.

Yes, hate.

As she herself writes in a post that was rescued, "If I had known that my brother would be so unbearable, I would have found a way to suffocate him with the umbilical cord", and she has often admitted in other posts that she planned different ways to kill Joe, whether by putting poison in his food, trying to asphyxiate him while he was sleeping, or even contacting hardcore serial killers from Athens to order the crime, but according to her, she ended up giving up because she wanted more years to make his life hell.

Joe is devastated, hurt, hurt, sad, it's as if someone had broken both his legs, both his arms and kicked him in the face, no injury and no defeat would hurt more than that.

In another state at the training press conference.

-Janine, what do you have to say about the blog? Do you regret it? Have you apologized to your family and especially to Joe? - A reporter asks.

-I was just a teenager, a child, too immature, it was just a joke, nothing major and they know it. - Her evasive answer and psychotic smile after answering the question shocked everyone. The apathy and coldness in Janine's eyes, and her frightening psychopathic smile put a warning sign in everyone present in that press conference room. They didn't need to be experts in psychology to realize that they were in front of a pathological narcissist with psychopathic traits.

Patrick began to suffer the consequences, as if he himself had created that blog.

-If Patrick doesn't come out and apologize, it will only seem like he is in agreement with all of this and since she is his wife, it is very clear that yes, he is in agreement. How can someone marry someone who doesn't respect their own family? If he didn't know before, now he does. What does she say about him without him knowing? - One of the commentators asked indignantly.

-Exactly, he has to speak up.

-Yes, he does, many sponsors won’t agree with that - another added.

-What scares me the most is that Patrick and Janine have a daughter together, what kind of education is this child receiving? Poor child - another commenter laments

That weighed on Patrick's conscience, the consequences of what he didn't do could arise,that's when he washed his face and made a video tagging the entire Burrow family, except Janine.

'I would like to publicly apologize to everyone in my wife's family.

Above all, I would like to say that I found out about this a few days ago and that I do not condone it, nor have I ever condone it. I have already asked her to do the same and I am waiting for it to happen and, like everyone else, I know very well that this cannot happen at home, it must happen publicly, since she had the courage to expose the family publicly in so many ways, for so many years. I can only regret that this happened. I love each and every one of this family and they are my family, especially you Joe, who shares the same profession and who is so young and talented, you have always had and will always have my respect and affection. You are family to me, you are a brother, I am sorry for those hurtful things you read, things your sister said about you'

The video was finished and posted, Patrick was more than ecstatic with everything he read.

When Janine saw it, she immediately appeared behind him, ready to confront him.

-My video, which I had no obligation to post, is ready, now please, have enough courage, the same courage you had to mistreat your brother, and do the same Janine and personally apologize to your family and Joseph or, if it's better, pack your bags and leave - He ordered, going up the stairs without even looking at her face.

She hugged her brother in a careless way, while he, imagining that she was being truthful, held her tightly, letting the tears wet her shoulder, who soon grimaced without anyone seeing.

-I'm sorry for everything, I was just an immature and idiot, who didn't know what I was saying, you know I love you very much Joe - She said it out loud very easily.

When her brother released her and she thanked him for it, she had to put on a fake expression of sadness, which worked well.

Peace was established between the Burrow’s, at least that's what everyone thought, since now she had other ways to transfer her anger towards Joe, a new diary, and Janine, with her traditional psychopathic smile, started writing again.

[docholligay]

Sing Her Down By Ivy Pochoda

the pitch: I started reading this, as I start to read many things, because it was available from the library when I wanted my next book. But I do read the blurbs and stuff before settling on one, and with this sentence, I was intrigued. For myself, but also for you: "No Country for Old Men meets Killing Eve in this gritty, feminist Western thriller."

Like, GIRL.

So I started reading, and within the prologue and about five pages into the first chapter, I knew I would tell you about it. The prose and character voice immediately pop. "Oh yeah, I'm on my way to places Doc will want to visit." Not just with the themes, but the way the author writes reminds me not unlike your own work. She has this beautiful way of weaving metaphors into the narration that amplify tone and mood, it immediately put me in the mind of your writing style. I usually wait until I'm done with something before I rec it to you. Not so here.

"Gripping and immersive, Sing Her Down is a spellbinding thriller setting two indelible women on a path to certain destruction and an epic, stunning showdown."

I mean, COME ON.

Non-spoilery: I’m not even sure if I liked this book but I really appreciated it. It’s an almost-modern-Western (though i would not quite call it that myself) that takes on the idea of victimhood and villainy and obsession, and being tied together. I loved its air of inevitability. I think it wanted for a little editing--I found myself wishing it had been rewritten. It reads like draft four. It’s good! But it could have been great, and unlike a lot of the time, I have the sense the author could have gotten herself there without too much trouble. But it has a really intriguing framing device that i LOVE, and fabulous narrative voice. (big compliment to say it reminds you of my work. I’m not sure I live up to it)  Not a waste of time for sure.  

I’ll leave the non-spoilery section with a quote i loved: “Like there’s no space for regret and power in the same body. Like these two things can’t cohabitate.” 

Spoilery: 

What a weird book (complimentary). I’m not sure I could ever explain to someone what its about in a way that really conveys the experience of reading it. In short, its about two women who are on their way to an inevitable showdown, and one of them at least must die. There is no evading this. They are as intertwined as the gunman and the outlaw in a Louis L’Amour bit. And the book makes no bones about this. 

Actually, the back of the book calls this “No Country for Old Men meets Killing Eve” and you know part of the reason I hate that fucking “blank meets blank” shit is it’s so often incorrect. This book owes a much greater debt to the ‘gritty’ pulp Westerns of the 70s and 80s than it does No Country. There are two women like in Killing Eve I guess, but Dios wanting to kill Florida, wanting to make Florida kill, has nothing to do with desire, and Florida is mostly a woman trying to escape. Florida is a coward in the face of action, in the face of even recognizing who she is, she sees herself as an innocent flower and not the killer she is, and not even in a cool way just in a way tht manages to dodge all accountability. 

Loved Kace! She is both character and framing device and honestly she is the only likeable one. If you go into this expecting to take either Dios or Florida’s ‘side’ you are going to be very disappointed because they both suck utterly. They are both fundamentally broken human beings. There is something WRONG with them. It’s not “what did society do to me” so much as Dios needs Florida to realize that, just like Dios, she is a wolf born into a world of dogs. She needs Florida to cop to that. They are Born Bad. 

But anyway Kace is the exception to all this, despite being 1000% certifiably crazy, she fels like the only fucking reliable person in the whole book. As readers, we trust her more than anyone, and the ways that happen unfold over the course of the book, we realize she thinks she can hear ghosts, or she actually hears them, depending on your take. Some of the best lines, including the one I put above, come from her. She, despite being, like I say, NUTS, is the only character who seems to have self-reflection. And I love that! I love that our trusted character, the one who seems to own up to it all and do what she can with where she’s at, is someone who, in the earliest parts of the novel, seems like your standard crazy burnout. It lets US reevaluate what ‘crazy’ looks like, especially contrasted with Florida. 

Lobos is such a waste in this book that I damn near forgot she was in it. Pochoda never goes far enough with her, and I think the book would be massively improved by either cutting her completely or actually fleshing her out to fully decide what sort of story you want to tell with her. This half-baked thing going on with her is actually my strongest criticism of the novel. 

ANYWAY, the point of these is that I don’t have to write god’s most perfect review, so I’ll let myself stop, but yeah, I think it’s a really fun, very fast read.

[clarabowmp3]

13 fave tracks from TTPD and TTPDTA this hour?

WOOOOO finally formed coherent enough opinions heheh but my top tracks are: (tw 'trauma' dumping, yapping)

HOW DID IT END!!!!!!!!!!! it is genuinely so sad. i so so relate to her subtly sarcastic/bitter tone (come one come all its happening again) and although this track is slightly different from her usual style it has all the bits i love abt her music - simplicity, quiet devestation, layered emotions, intentional lyrics

the black dog - OMGGG never EVER getting over the adrenaline rush of "SCREEEEEAMING" if u couldnt tell im a pretty dramatic and stubborn person LOL and there was this one toxic friendship i clung onto until my fingernails were bloody cuz i was 15 and didnt think i had any other choice (very 'as she was leaving it felt like breathing' vibes) and i think part of why i didnt want to break things off was cuz of how much it hurt me to think of her replacing me with someone who could be a better friend than me + it was familiar like a bad habit

the prophecy - my sister walked in on me tearing up when i first listened to it properly HAHAH stylistically speaking its a very fluid (?) sounding song with a smooth/satisfying rhythm (written/bitten, I like the rhyming) and compelling fantasy/religious imagery but what appealed to me most was the RAWNESS OF THE CHORUS and listen i know everyone hates on the 'dont want money' line but I RELATE SO MUCH TO IT OKAY i cant count the number of times ive distracted myself from my loneliness with my studies/work and tried to convince myself that this is what I want, and as much as i appreciated my perfect grades god was i fucking lonely. so many times i wondered if it was all worth it, and after not having any close irl friends to show for the past 18 years it starts to feel like this is of my own doing/i am fated to be forever lonely. so back to the song - it just hits me rlly hard that YES. DONT WANT MONEY. JUST SOMEONE WHO WANTS MY COMPANY.

loml - ironically i find the change from love to loss the least interesting part AHAHAH i like that this is one of the less wordier songs such that nearly every lyric packs a hell of a punch, none of them are awkward, and she does the delicate shift in the connotations of her lyrics SO so well you can feel her misery and yearning so perfectly. i talk more abt this here

clara bow

peter

I look in people's windows

so long london

florida!!!

who's afraid of little old me

the smallest man who ever lived

the bolter

fortnight

Special shoutout to I Can Do It With a Broken Heart cuz that song was ME for the prime of my student career and rip to the swifties who cant relate /j but i both cried a lot AND was so productive

[astriiformes]

u (asexual) were not always included in the lgbt community 😭 y’all started existing in 2008 after the hard work was all done don’t lie

Usually I wouldn't reply to a message like this -- it was sent in response to a post that included plenty of examples of historical ace and aro involvement in what we now think of as the queer community, and was obviously sent just to be inflammatory and get an upset reply. I'm secure enough in my ace and aro identity -- and have more then enough allo, queer friends who consider me a part of their community -- that mean asks on tumblr aren't about deter me from my activism, both in the aro/ace sphere and the broader queer one.

But this particular anonymous ask just so happens to be one of the most astonishingly self-centered, short-sighted examples of ace hate I've ever gotten, so let's have a little talk about what's going on here.

Anon, it takes a special kind of person to claim the hard work is done and over on Trans Day of Remembrance, when we are mourning at minimum 32 people who were killed in the United States for being transgender in this last year -- and at least 327 people globally; on the heels of 2021 being the single worst year the Human Rights Campaign has recorded for trans murders on the United States, and when just yesterday night, 5 people were murdered and another 25 injured in a shooting at a queer club. When 2022 has seen the highest number of pieces of anti-LGBTQIA+ legislation filed in the United States on record -- many but not all targeted at not just trans people, but trans youth. When states like Texas and Florida are sending social workers after parents who support their children's gender transition and scaring queer and trans teachers out of schools. When there is an increasing movement to ban books featuring queer stories from schools and libraries across the United States -- including ones like Maia Kobabe's Gender Queer, which talks extensively about the author's aromantic and asexual identity as well as their gender journey. When TERF rhetoric dominates the news and political spheres in the United Kingdom, and British trans folks face horrific waits of three, four, five, and more years to access lifesaving care as the number of providers in the country who can offer it to them dwindles. When queer Ukranians are speaking out about the danger the invasion of their homeland by a country with a number of trans- and queerphobic laws in place puts them in (and when queer Russians have been living under those laws for some time now). When queer and trans people all over the world are watching all of this with worry for ourselves and the people we love.

What part of that is easy? What part of the hard work is done? Trans and queerphobic sentiments are on the rise and you seem to think you have some kind of laurels to sit on -- and worse, some kind of moral superiority. Tell me you aren't involved in the fight without telling me you aren't involved in the fight.

I (asexual) happen to have marched in a protest for trans rights in below-freezing weather this week. I had a conversation with the vice-president of my university's queer student organization about how I'd like to get involved in leadership next year. I helped talk a peer down from feeling suicidal when she came into the queer student center crying. I have also been talking a lot lately with my queerplatonic partner about how much happier she is having learned to embrace her ace identity and how much more comfortable she is in an ace relationship. I have been fighting for this community out on the streets while you decided the best use of your time was to hide behind anonymity and try to tear someone fighting for you down.

Because guess what, anon? Even if you want to pretend this fight -- that, yes, ace and aro people have been in all along -- is over, I don't think you deserve to have your right to marry taken away just because you grew complacent any more than I deserve to have a doctor make belittling comments towards me while I hold my queerplatonic partner's hand in the ER just because we're not married. (And yes, the latter actually happened to me this year, in this oh-so-easy world where all the fighting's done and where ace people were apparently never victims in the first place.) You're a bully, but you're human, and my queer advocacy doesn't exclude anyone -- even jerks.

I've been identifying as aromantic and asexual since I was 16 years old. In the last decade, I've received dozens of messages like this, and had hundreds of other horrible judgements slung at me in the reblogs of my posts. I've had people I marched with in Pride parades say insensitive things about my identities the very same day. I've watched other ace and aro friends bear similar trauma at the hands of our own community and We're. Still. Here.

My friends from the university's ace and aro club marched side-by-side with me in the snow, with handwarmers stuffed in our gloves, to protest earlier this week. Another of my aro/ace friends founded a queer affinity group in a major international charity club that has hundreds of members worldwide now, supporting each other and forging life-long friendships. Another ace friend is on a committee at my university fighting for more gender-neutral restrooms on campus. I've helped queer friends move from unsupportive homes and spoken at others' weddings when most of the rest of their family refused to show up. The queer community is my home, and it's an honor and a privilege to fight for it, even if it's a tragedy to still have to. I don't have to prove I belong here.

But you -- who seem to to think that tearing down someone different from you, in a community that's been about being different from the start, is the pinnacle of activism? You might.

[ilici]

that’s my sister.

Summary: Sapnap and Dream go to visit George in the UK when they go out clubbing, Sapnap has a one night stand with someone he thought looked familiar.

(There will be a male version to this one soon !)

NSFW MINORS DNI

Warnings: degrading, choking, oral (giving), sir kink, thigh riding.

Word Count: 2498

Sapnap leaned back in the passenger seat, and propped his feet up on the dashboard. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t dirty up the rental car.” Dream spoke up, glancing over at Sapnap before he turned his attention back to the road. Sapnap only scoffed, but kept his feet propped up. “I am aching Dream, we’ve been in every type of vehicle you can think of in the past 12 hours.” Sapnap whined, wanted to finally be able to relax. “Shut up, I’ve drove two of those hours, and the rest was on an airplane where you slept the entire time.” Dream said, shaking his head at his friends whinny behavior. “Yeah? So what? I was still in a vehicle.” He said, shaking his head, and looked at the passing buildings.

“How long do we have left till we even get to George’s house?” He asked, and Dream looked down at his phone that was on his lap giving him the directions. “About ten minutes.” He confirmed, and Sapnap felt relieved he only had to be inside the car for ten more minutes. “Thank God.” He mumbled, and looked over at him, “Didn’t George recently move out of his mom’s house and into his own place?” He asked, and Dream nodded. “Yeah, if he was still living with his mom we would've done been there 20 minutes ago.” He admitted, and Sapnap mentally cussed George out. “Does George live alone?” He asked and Dream shrugged, “He’s mentioned he has a sister that comes and visits a lot, so I would assume so.”

After a long ten minute drive, they pulled up to a gated house. “He seriously has a gate?” Sapnap said, and Dream looked at him, “Our house has a gate dumbass.” He said, and Sapnap laughed, “True true.” He nodded his head, as the gate opened for them. “He must’ve seen us on his camera or something.” Dream muttered under his breath as he drove up the driveway. “This house is huge holy shit.” Sapnap said, gawking at the house. “Well yeah, Brighton has better houses than Florida.” Dream said as if it were obvious, “It’s like a whole three stories.” He said, as they parked. George’s figure came into view and he excitedly waved at them. “Hey guys!” George said as he walked to the rental car, planning to help with their luggage. “Hey George.” Sapnap said, as he grabbed his suitcase and some of his duffle bags. Dream greeted George with a hug, and grinned. “I’ll show you two to your rooms.” George said, grabbing what was left.

As the three walked in, Dream and Sapnap were smacked with the smell of French toast. “Did you cook?” Dream asked bewildered, “No, my sister made food for us before she left to go home.” George explained, and the other two nodded. “She seems sweet.” Sapnap said, and Dream nodded in agreement, “She has her moments like every sibling would.” He explained, and Dream mentally agreed thinking back to his sisters. “Sapnap your room is on the second floor and to the right, Dream yours is on the third floor and to the left.” He informed them, and Sapnap instantly looked at George, “Why can’t I be on the third floor?” He asked, and George stared at him blankly, “Because I’d prefer you fall down two sets of stairs then three.” Dream laughed at this and Sapnap attempted to flip him off, straining his arm in the process from all the weight.

Walking up the stairs and into his designated room, he placed everything down and took in the room. “What the..” He whispered, seeing how clean everything was. The room was a dark grey, and had a huge window as a wall on his right, letting him see the clear vision of beautiful mountains. He found himself staring at the scenery, it took his breath away, “Sapnap?” George asked waving a hand in front of Sapnap. Snapping out of his thoughts, he blinked repeatedly and looked over to George, “Yeah?” He asked, and George scoffed. “I've been calling your name for the longest time.” He said waving his arms about, exaggerating. “Yeah yeah whatever.” Sapnap said, waving him off. “Get dressed, we are going to eat then I’m taking you to the club because Dream said you needed to loosen up from all the traveling.” He said, shocked that Sapnap wasn’t jet lagged. 

Sapnap nodded and practically pushed George out of the room. Getting dressed, he put on black jeans, a corpse hoodie he received from Corpse himself with a note that said, “I apologize for not knowing you.” Slipping on his shoes, he walked out, not really caring about his appearance too much since he never really mattered to him in the first place. As they all finished eating, it was nearing 8 pm. Getting into the car, Dream made sure George didn’t drive, especially since it was night time. “Just because you got your license a month ago, doesn't mean I will trust you.” Dream said, as George sulked in the passenger side. Sapnap just looked at the scenery as they drove to the club. Feeling the car come to a halt, Sapnap looked up and he grinned, “I am going to get so wasted. I am so glad the age limit is different in the UK.” Sapnap said, and Dream laughed, “You turned 20 like two weeks ago, you’re crazy.” He said shaking his head as everyone got out.

After 4 cosmo’s Sapnap was wasted, and was now on the dance floor as Dream was drinking nothing for being the designated driver. “I hate babysitting.” Dream said, looking at George who shrugged, since he didn’t really like alcohol that much. “At least someone is having fun.” George mumbled, trying to find Sapnap in the mass amount of people. Without any luck, neither of them spotted him. Sapnap on the other hand, was now dancing with a girl who was wearing a rose gold satin dress. Her features seemed similar but he couldn’t put a finger on it. Her E/C and H/C was what threw him off, everything else seemed like deja vu. 

Her pale smooth skin, and her full plump lips, that he was dying to kiss so badly. Grabbing her hips, the two were grinding on each other. He loved the way her dress clung to her curves, “You’re beautiful.” He whispered into her ear, and the girl blushed. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He asked, and she nodded, “I’m going to go tell my friends that I am leaving. My place or yours? I live with my friends, so if you live alone your place is the better option for more privacy.” He said, slurring his words a tad. “My place.” She finally spoke, and her voice sounded silky if even possible. It sounded gorgeous, grinning he lightly spanked her ass as he told her to wait for him outside. Walking in the direction of his friends, Sapnap saw them. “I’m going with a girl, you two can go home.” He said, and the other two just shot up ready to leave.

Sapnap rushed outside, calling an uber as he walked out. “Let’s go.” He said, grabbing her hand, the two stumbling about. Both were drunk, but they knew what they were doing. When the uber arrived, the girl told him her address and Sapnap couldn’t keep his hands off of her. He was either touching her thighs, or subtly kissing her neck, he felt intoxicated by her. Y/N on the other hand was growing frustrated at the touches, her sexual frustration was getting to her. “Fuck this.” She mumbled, and climbed over to straddle Sapnap, ordering the uber driver to keep his eyes on the road. “God you’re so hot.” Sapnap whispered to her, and Y/N crashed her lips on his, the two feeling intoxicated from each other. 

Pulling away, Sapnap groaned, “I don’t know if it’s the alcohol in my system, but I could get drunk off your lips.” He said, biting her bottom lip and tugged on it. Giggling Y/N shook her head, and gasped when she felt her hips being rocked. Leaning her head back, she bit her bottom lip holding in a moan as she let Sapnap guide her hips on his thigh. “Someone likes thigh riding, don’t they?” He teased, and Y/N whined nodding her head too embarrassed to say anything. The fact that the uber driver could hear and see everything made her so much more excited. Speeding up his movements, Sapnap flexed his thigh and Y/N let a moan slip out. “Fuck that was hot.” He said watching her, as her face contorted into one of pleasure as she was growing close. 

Speeding up once more, he pushed his leg up, and that’s what set her off. Letting out a strand of curses, she felt herself cum. Sapnap watched the sight in front of him, watching her unravel was the prettiest sight ever. Hearing a throat being cleared, the two looked to the front, and noticed they were now at her house. Y/N mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ as the two stumbled out of the car. Y/N paid the uber driver double since he had to witness everything. “Come on doll.” Sapnap said, picking her up and placed her down once they made it to her front door. Fumbling with her keys, she quickly unlocked the door. The two rushed in and in a matter of seconds, Y/N was shoved against the door, Sapnap kissing her deeply and passionately. “Off now.” He mumbled against her lips, as he unzipped her dress skillfully. Pulling away, Y/N let the dress fall to her ankles. Sapnap looked her body up and down hungrily, the matching soft pink lace undergarments made him groan. 

“I can’t even wait to get into your room. I am going to fuck you, right here, right now. Understood?” He said, reaching up grabbing her neck as Y/N whimpered nodding her head. “Since I let you have your moment in the car, you’re gonna give me a reward.” He said pushing her down by the throat and Y/N licked her lips in anticipation. Sapnap eagerly took off his hoodie and shirt, throwing it across the living room. “You do it.” He said, motioning for her to unzip his pants. Nodding, she started unzipping his pants, and unbuttoned them. “Use your words doll.” He said, caressing her jawline, and Y/N bit her bottom lip, “Yes sir.” She said, and Sapnap smirked, “Good girl.” He said, and he hissed a bit when he felt the cool air hit his now free dick. Y/N looked at his dick, it was long and thick. She didn’t know if it was going to be able to fit. 

“Go on.” He urged her, and Y/N nodded snapping out of her trance. Grabbing the base of his dick, she gave it a long lick and Sapnap groaned leaning his head back at the sensation. Grabbing her hair, he made it into a messy ponytail. Slowly she licked the precum off the tip, and finally wrapped her lips around his dick. Bobbing her head slowly, Sapnap let out a small moan, as he looked down at the beautiful girl. “Eyes on me doll.” He said, and Y/N looked up at him with her innocent looking eyes, which made him want to destroy her right then and there. Not wanting to waste time, he started thrusting into her mouth. Y/N on the other hand, was special as she had no gag reflex. This; however, caught Sapnap off guard completely. “God such a good little slut you are for me.” He said, biting his bottom lip.

He was amazed by her even more, she let him face fuck her, and he felt himself growing close to his climax. Shoving his dick down her throat as he felt himself cum, he slowly pulled out of her mouth. “Swallow.” He ordered, and she obediently swallowed. Picking her up quickly he shoved her against the wall, pulling her underwear down. “Are you ready Doll?” He asked, and Y/N eagerly nodded her head. “I’m ready please just fuck me.” She whined out, and Sapnap quickly thrusted into her not giving her time to adjust. Y/N let out a strangled moan, as he wrapped his hand around her throat again. “God you’re so tight.” He groaned out, thrusting up into her roughly. Y/N was a moaning mess, she kept trying to hold in her moans, but they kept escaping no matter what. Feeling herself growing close once again, Sapnap smirked, “Cum on my dick Doll.” He whispered in her ear, leaning down to add hickeys on her neck. 

The way Y/N’s body was so pale and empty, it was as if she was an empty canvas waiting to be painted on. So he took it upon himself to make sure she had hickeys every where he could reach. Feeling her clench around him, he realized she had came. Pulling out Sapnap felt himself cum, and watched as it landed on her ass. Groaning at the sight, he scooped some of it up on his fingers and demanded her to lick his fingers clean. Y/N soon felt herself being picked up, and a wet substance being rubbed on her body. She assumed it was a wet washcloth, mumbling out a small ‘thank you’ she felt her upper body being covered by an oversized hoodie. Sapnap sat her on the bed, and helped her put on new underwear, he slipped on his own underwear and laid in bed. The two quickly fell asleep.

“What the hell?” Sapnap heard, and he groaned, as he slowly opened his eyes. Looking around, he finally remembered where he was. Looking over he saw her still peacefully sleeping. Growing confused at the voice, he looked around and saw nothing. Looking over he noticed the beautiful stranger also had a window for a wall showing a beautiful forest instead. He wouldn’t mind waking up to that every morning, and the girl beside of him. Slowly getting up, he walked downstairs, hearing hushed voices. “Sapnap?” He heard, and Sapnap whipped around to see a red face George, and a hysterical Dream. “I told you that was his shirt!” Dream said in between laughs. George paid no mind to him as he pointed a finger at Sapnap, “You slept with my twin sister?!” George yelled, and Sapnap chuckled. “So that’s who she reminded me of.” He said, and everyone went quiet when they heard soft pattering of feet walking down the stairs. Sapnap’s heart melted at the sight of Y/N tiredly rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. “George?” She asked, and George visibly calmed at her voice, “Y/N you slept with my best friend Sapnap?” George asked, and the two looked at each other. “Y/N.” “Sapnap.” The two said at the same time, finally knowing their names.

[margridarnauds]

honesty hour thoughts on the dark academia aesthetic

Oh, I *hate* you for this.

I think...on one hand, I have to be as consistent as I can be with my personal beliefs, and I'm big on free will in general. People can do whatever they want so long as it doesn't harm anyone else.

That being said, I think the entire thing is superficial and pretentious, more about appearing to be well-educated and smart than in anything of substance. It's all about name dropping the right authors, wearing the right clothes, knowing the right artists to name drop. And it's incredibly white, it's incredibly classist, it overwhelmingly glorifies Humanities fields that have traditionally been built upon and benefited from colonialism (....Classics), built upon an idea of academia that hasn't existed for decades at this point, and glorifying the worst aspects of it -- the burnout, the mental health issues, the class issues, the huge, sprawling campuses that we all know have more than a few skeletons in their closets. It's all less glamorous when you hear people from multiple departments around the world, many of them large, prestigious institutions, talk about how they all know their programs are hiding the real suicide statistics. I can always tell when someone actually has experience with this stuff, whether it's at the undergrad level, the MA level, or the PhD level, and whether they got that experience at a community college or at a Grand, Established University, just based on how they talk about it. (Here's the secret, as someone who's been in about every single tier of university you can get and has friends in the ones I haven't been in -- the main difference is money. You can get more resources in those grand old institutions than you can in the community colleges, but no, people are not, in general, getting inducted into any nefarious cults. It's a richer school, it isn't like you're going to Hogwarts or going to school on the moon, even if people there might act like it at times. It's one more program. You have a nice view, that's it. And at my uni in Florida, we even had that, because we had some lovely botanical gardens.)

And I get it, for a lot of people, it's a neat escapist fantasy, it's harmless, but I'm just...too close to it to enjoy it. I've been in those big, prestigious universities, I've done the whole "leaves scattering under my feet as I clutch a warm apple cider in my hand, taking in the first chill of winter beneath my blazer, the pile of books in my backpack a secure weight on my back" thing, and, surprisingly, I was still extremely depressed. There's no escapism for me because it's my every day life. I've seen the classism first hand, I've seen the pressure to dress a certain way or act a certain way, I've seen how much performance goes into it even as grad students are increasingly being recruited from lower and lower middle class families (even though, overwhelmingly, students come from families that have at least one parent in academia) because they need us to fill their programs and do their cheap work for them. I've seen some of the dark things that everyone knows but that we're not supposed to speak about out loud, not necessarily in my own immediate department, but...my field's small. Rumors travel. And it's fairly common for grad students who present as women to be gently taken aside by some of the older grad students and given a List of professors to avoid at conferences, and that's not including all the Nazis in academia historically (and into the present.) And...it's not glamorous, it's not exciting, it's soul destroying. These men (and the odd woman) are never going to get punished, they're going to live their whole lives without being challenged, with many of them being there in the first place because they came from backgrounds that told them they were destined for academic greatness just based on who their family is, and we have to live with the knowledge. And it's hard to be reading the old classics when you're on the line for multiple conference papers + the coursework you're already doing, because you need to get out as much work as possible before you're thrown into the cruel world of the academic job hunt, especially if, like me, you're in a very niche field.

It's simultaneously outdated while also being a little too real. And, again, I get it's good fun, there are parts of it I even like, especially given that I really like when they lean more into the gothic themes of the aesthetic, but it's just...wildly not my thing. Raccoon Academia for the win.

[ninzied]

a kiss to wake up.

for @myletternevercame. and for @superrpowerlesshuman because reasons.

They’re working late again.

Their caseload has grown since their practice expanded to three, and with it, the longer hours that occasionally bleed into weekends. Not that he minds it. It does mean that Foggy gets to spend less time with Marci than he likes, but at least they live together. She makes him grateful, every day, that he has someone to come home to, to love.

Matt, for his part, puts in his nine-to-five and then takes to the rooftops at night. Sometimes, Foggy can’t even be sure his friend manages to make it home at all, but he’s learning that they all have their own needs. Their own ways to process, live, and grieve.

Karen is strong. Foggy thinks she might one of the strongest people he’s known, for what she has gone through, what she has survived. But more than that, though, she seems happy – in a way that he’s never seen her before, and maybe that’s not entirely to do with finally putting Fisk away for good.

Sometimes, Foggy will catch her smiling down at her phone in the middle of the workday, and he’ll wonder what, or who, that smile is for.

After Fisk, they relocated to a nicer building. They’ve also taken the time – well, Karen has taken the time – to redecorate. Their office has a homey vibe to it now, so at least when they are here, it’s comfortable. Cozy. They even have a mini-bar, and their own bathroom and shower – which Foggy suspects Karen insisted upon for Matt’s benefit, on those nights that never quite end for him.

They’d splurged on a common area, too. It has a TV that they don’t really use, and a couch that Karen is currently half-passed out on, reading through dozens of applications for their new office manager position. They’ve been trying to split up the duties, and they’re starting to feel the strain.

“That bad, huh?” Foggy asks sympathetically. “Hey, it’s not their fault you set the bar so high.”

“I have a friend from Florida who’s been looking for a fall internship in the city,” she muses. “Maybe we can work something out.”

“I defer to your good judgment,” says Foggy.

“Mmm.” Karen’s eyes drift closed for a moment. “I’ll ask Matt about it tomorrow, make sure he’s okay with it too.”

Foggy finishes his prep for court tomorrow and checks his watch. It’s just past late enough that the thought of Karen taking the train home makes him a little uneasy.

“Can I give you a ride?”

“Already got one on the way,” she says, lifting her phone.

“Okay,” says Foggy. “I’ll wait and walk out with you.”

She gives him an amused kind of look, which she doesn’t bother explaining before leaning all the back into the armrest. Her computer is still propped open on her lap, and she shifts a little to keep it from sliding off of her. “Can you let him in when he gets here?”

“Sure,” says Foggy, then blinks. Let…who? He’d assumed she’d called an Uber or something. Maybe it’s the friend from Florida? He starts to ask, but she’s nestled even deeper into the couch, if that’s possible, eyelids growing heavier.

Foggy waits until her breathing has evened out, then carefully extracts her laptop and stows it into her workbag for her.

Ten minutes later, there’s a knock on the door.

Foggy’s dimmed the lights in the office, so when he goes to answer the door it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light spilling in from the hallway. And for him to realize Frank Castle is standing in front of him.

Frank reads the shock on his face and says, in that gruffly direct manner of his, “Karen not tell you I was coming?”

“Um,” says Foggy. “Yeah. I mean – sort of.” He steps back. “Come in. She fell asleep on the couch.”

Frank strides into their office, and though he’s not an absurdly large specimen of a man, his presence immediately takes up the entire room.

He pauses when he sees Karen, curled up on the couch.

“Hate to wake her,” he murmurs. “She hasn’t been sleeping well.”

Foggy lets his jaw drop, just a little. Frank’s back is turned to him, so he wouldn’t have seen it anyway.

He watches Frank approach Karen, bending over the armrest.

“Hey,” he says gently. And then he leans down, and presses a kiss to her forehead.

Foggy is – definitely not seeing things. Right?

Karen stirs, and stretches. Blinks up at Frank with a soft, sleepy smile. “Hi,” she says. She lifts a hand to cup the side of his jaw for a moment.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He kisses the inside of her hand this time. “Ready to go home?”

“I am now.” She retrieves her workbag, slinging it over her shoulder. Frank’s arm goes around her waist as she comes up to his side. She kisses his cheek, and he leans into it, the smallest, infinitesimal amount, but it’s enough to make Foggy wish he’d thought to look away.

He takes a step back, and wonders how feasible it would be to just disappear into the shadows. Matt and Frank always make it look easy. Foggy still needs to get his bag, though, which would require walking right past Frank and Karen and making his presence very obvious to them again.

But then Karen, still looking at Frank, gestures over at him and says, “I was telling Foggy – that position we’re looking to fill, maybe we could make an internship out of it instead.”

Frank seems to consider this.

“What do you think?” asks Karen.

“Wait,” Foggy blurts out. “Not – for you, right? You’re not—”

Frank gives him a look that says he’d rather eat glass than work at Nelson, Murdock & Page. Nothing malicious about it, only matter-of-fact. Then he turns back to Karen and says, “It’s not a bad idea. Kid thinks the world of you, so.”

Was Foggy the one who’d fallen asleep, only to wake up in some alternate universe just now? One where Frank and Karen went and had a whole kid together without him even knowing?

“Mm. Wonder where she gets that from,” says Karen, lightly teasing.

Foggy’s not sure if he’s imagined it, but Frank looks almost bashful as he ducks his head for a moment.

“Can neither confirm nor deny,” he says, taking Karen’s hand in his.

And the way he’s looking at her, Foggy realizes, is the same way Frank has always looked at her – unblinkingly intense as ever, but also like he’s just a little in awe.

Foggy knows he’s not imagining that.

“Hey, that gets the kiddo a gold star in my book,” he says. “Can’t wait to meet her.” He holds Frank’s gaze, to make sure he knows that he’s being sincere.

Frank gives him a nod.

Karen turns to Foggy too. “Walk you out?” she offers, not without a twinkle in her eye.

Foggy can’t help it. He laughs. “Walking with you two, I will either be in more danger than I’ve ever been in my life”—he pauses as he gathers his things—“or I’ll never be safer.” He tilts his chin. “It’s really a toss-up, which is more likely.”

Frank holds open the door for him. “Guess we’re about to find out,” he says, utterly deadpan.

Foggy squares his shoulders. “Guess we are,” he says, meeting Frank’s eye with mock solemnity, and if Frank cracks a brief smile at that, well – Foggy could pretend he saw otherwise.

Instead, he grins back, and offers to lock the door on their way out.

[stylesann]

Rebuilding

Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Summary: Steve decides to go back to the 40’s and you hurt.

Warnings: idk? Angst but happy ending

A/N: I have no idea what this is but aaa I feel like it’s bad lol, I just always get in a very angsty and dramatic mood every time that I read a story about Steve leaving so I wanted to do my own twist? Idk, and it’s been yeaaaars since I don’t write anything and also I’m not a native English speaker so I apologise any mistakes. Comments are always welcome 💕 -> written in around 15/04/2021; ->posted 28/05/2021

Masterlist

You stare at the ocean and release all the air you were holding on your lungs. You still felt your body heavy but at least your tears had stoped. You’re fighting hard to keep your thoughts out of your head, to keep your mind calm like the scenario in front of you, an empty beach with the ocean waves rhythmically hitting the shore. The sky had a lot of clouds and it would probably rain soon, but you didn’t mind, it matched you mood.

You could say you were surprised but all you felt was disappointment, sadness and if you were being honest, you felt anger and jealousy. What Peggy had that you didn’t? I mean, you didn’t know the answer and you were sure if you had asked Steve he wouldn’t be able to give you one cause he had spent such a short amount of time with her that he couldn’t be able to actually know all of her. All her flaws, all the quirks. In the past you had thought he didn’t even loved her anymore and was just in love with an image, an illusion he had from his past. But for him to had left you for her you weren’t even sure of that anymore.

You also felt used, replaceable, like you were just kept there cause he couldn’t do better, cause he couldn’t be with her. And now that he could he just tossed you away. You knew Steve wasn’t that kind of guy, but thats how you felt. And no one could tell you how you should feel or deal with it.

So that’s what lead you here. It had all happened hours ago. You saw his old self in that bench and you just felt numb. Bucky tried to hold you, he said that Steve wanted to talk to you but you just left. You had that right didn’t you? You didn’t care about what he had to say, it was all bullshit. You didn’t care about his guilt, or how sorry he was. You didn’t even care to go back to the apartment you shared with him, because you knew if you had gone there you would be stared by a hundred pictures you had with him.

You just wanted to get away. So here you came. You look down to the wedding band on you finger and the engagement ring. You wore both together but it didn’t make sense to have them anymore. You didn’t want any memories from Steve on you so you take them out and feel their light weight on you palm. You knew this was it, it was your way of closure, of ending that part of you life. You take a deep breath and throw them at the sea. There’s no way of seeing them drown but just the thought that you didn’t have them anymore made you lighter.

You turn around, ready to go back to the car that brought you here but you see a familiar figure blocking the way. Bucky.

“How are you feeling, doll?” he says approaching you. You didn’t know how long he was standing there or what he had seen. You wonder if he could see how empty and drained you really were.

“In the moment I’m not feeling anything. I think I’m still mostly numb. But that’s probably for the best, right?” You try to give him a light answer knowing that he lost his best friend too. How could Steve have left him after fighting so long to have him back was beyond you. “Did you know? Did you know what he was gonna do?”

“I did” that was all it took for the tears to start falling from your eyes. Why had Steve told him and not you? You were his wife for gods sake didn’t you deserve at least this? Bucky reaches for you but you push him away.

“Why didn’t h-he tell me? Why did he d-do this?” you hiccup between the words, the tears falling harder than before.

“I think he just didn’t have the guts to. You know he loves you, Y/N-“

“Screw him! If he did, he wouldn’t have done this!” All the feelings you were trying to push down seem to come to surface and tighten their grip on your chest. “I can’t understand why you aren’t angry? Why aren’t you feeling betrayed?”

“He didn’t leave me alone Y/N, he asked us to take care of each other” he has a pleading look on his face while he says that, and you see that the difference between you and him is that he had some time to come to terms with his friends decision, he’s sad but keeping it to himself. He’s trying to be strong for everyone one else who didn’t know, for you mostly.

“I don’t care about what he asked. I’m not staying and I’m not doing what he would want me too. I’m always gonna be there for you Buck, not because he’s wants that but because I care about you. Whatever you need you can call, even if it’s just for a chat, but I’m not staying, i can’t. I am getting into that car and I’m gonna drive away as much as i can, and I’m only stopping when I feel like I’ve put miles between me and this” you say more calm than you were minutes before. You had a plan, it may not be the best one but that’s what you had for now. You didn’t want to be in the same place you lived with Steve, you didn’t want to see the same scenarios you saw with him, you wanted nothing from him. Maybe it was bitter of you, or maybe you didn’t have the best coping mechanism but you needed the distance.

Bucky’s expression seemed to sadden a bit but he understood, he knew this wasn’t easy for you. “I don’t want to change your mind about leaving, so I say the same, if you need anything you call Y/N, got it?” He says as he hugs you firmly.

“Got it” you say in whisper against his shoulder, his arms still around you delaying the last moments he’s gonna have with another friend. You hate to be doing this, he didn’t deserve it you knew it, but you also knew that he wouldn’t be willing to accompany you on your trip, and it was something that you needed to do alone. You were alone.

“You know he wouldn’t have done this if he didn’t know you you be able to rebuild your life, right? You’re a strong person” He uses the same tone of voice you had, he probably just didn’t want to trigger you into making your feelings rise again.

“Everyone has the ability to rebuild themselves, Buck. The fact that I’m strong shouldn’t make what he did alright. And I don’t feel much strong now... I just feel like I’m a shell. And even if I do find someone else, how am I going to let them in? How am I supposed to trust anyone with my heart, when the guy I gave all my heart before completely destroyed me?” A single tear fall from your eye, but you hold the rest back. “I’m going to be fine but I don’t even know what that mean anymore.” He just nods to this, and I know there’s nothing left to be said so I head to the car and take a deep breath holding the wheel. This is it.

I look at Bucky while I drive away, he’s still standing where I left him and I hope with everything on me that he will be fine too. Whatever that means.

****************************

The sun is harsh on your eyes slipping through the curtains open frames. You turn your head to the other side and you feel a heavy weight on your waist stopping you from moving further than that. You slowly open your eyes to see Franks figure with his arm on you and his head drowned on the pillow.

You turn again to look at the clock to see it marking 8:47 am. Mary would be up soon, so you slip from Frank taking extra care not to wake him up and head to the kitchen to make a quick breakfast.

“Y/N! Y/N! Can we have pancakes today?!” Mary breaks into the small kitchen excitedly jumping around. Today you and Frank would be taking her to her new math club and she couldn’t be more anxious about it.

“What is going on here” Franks rough morning voice appears on the room. He’s rubbing his eyes and seems to be sleeping still.

“We are making Mary her favourite pancakes for breakfast” you answer them as you get the ingredients on the counter. Mary hugs you and sits straight on the table waiting for you to prepare them.

It had been 6 years since the day you left New York and ended up traveling for a long time through the country only to end up here. Florida. It was hot all the time, you always felt warm but it was distant enough from your past and you felt better about it. You decided that you wanted to rent a small place near the beach and so you found a woman named Roberta, that rented a few houses that fulfilled your wish. You didn’t think twice before accepting her deal.

You weren’t carrying anything on you except for the few clothes that you had bought on your journey so the move was quite simple. And you weren’t expecting to fit in so well here but the fact that as soon as you were settled a little girl, who was maybe 7 at the time, had come to you with a lot of questions that honestly you couldn’t answer warmed you up to the place real fast.

The fact that Mary had managed to always meet up with you but you still had to meet Frank was beyond you. She talked a lot about him “Frank did this today”, “oh did you know Frank let me adopt another cat”, “the first cat Frank got us was Fred, he has only one eye”, and so on. You knew more about him that you probably would by talking to him in person, according to Mary herself. She said he was very closed but had a great heart, she even told you the story about him fighting in justice for her guard. It only made you think he was a great guy who would do anything to protect his niece, and you were sincerely excited to meet him, give the person a face.

However, as it appears that his schedule was always all over the place and you always waking around town and spending many hours on the beach didn’t help with your meeting. You didn’t understand at first too how Mary always found you around, but she explained that whenever she wasn’t studying and Frank was going out with his girlfriend Boni, she stayed with her friend Roberta, who quickly became a good acquaintance of yours.

Either way, Mary had been talking to you for weeks when you finally met Frank. You couldn’t believe your eyes and genuinely thought you were delusional. He looked just like Steve, but the moment he started speaking you could see the differences between the two and the helped you find your foot again.

In the beginning you were hesitant about spending time with Mary and Frank, who surprised Mary with the news that he had gotten a more stable job. According to him, he still fixed boats but for a company that payed well. You were happy for him but the memories his face brought still made you want distance.

During the four years you traveled around you had let him go, all of him. You had been trough all the grief stages and learnt how to do well with your own company, you didn’t need anyone else. But looking at his face had the effect of hitting you with a sad resigned feeling and you didn’t like it. But Mary always spoke so highly of her uncle that you knew keeping your distance from both because of memories wasn’t fair.

Frank, of course notice that you never iniciantes any conversation with him and he wondered if Mary had introduced the same woman she said was talkative and affectionated. He asked you about it and it wasn’t until you answered with sincerity that he understood. Since then he was more careful in your presence which you appreciated.

With time though, you warmed up to him, he was a good guy you never doubted that. You became close friends and when him and Boni broke up you helped him. It was a mutual break up but it’s never easy.

You friendship was going great until you notice him treating you differently than he would before and you realised he was slowly catching feelings for you. Obviously being romantically involved with him was the last thing you wanted but you couldn’t bring yourself to change the way things were going between you two and that’s what led you to this moment.

In a car, dropping Mary off to her math club, with Frank by your side and the promise that it would be okay. It had to. You took so long to let him in that now you didn’t want to let go, and you doubt Frank wanted anything but stay. Bucky said the same when he came to visit you and Frank. You look at him and you see him smile at you.

“You think he’s gonna be a mini genius?” He asks looking at the small bump on your belly.

“If he gets MY genes, obviously” I sass laughing.

“Ha, you know the genius genes it’s on my side of the family Mrs. Adler” he chuckles.

“On your dreams” you smile. It you be okay.

[troubatrain]

sober - m.barzal (pt. five)

a/n: OKAY, now that this series has been reposted I can finally get to the new part that’s been living in my head since i started this series and i hope you guys love it as much as i do

Four - Six

It was one picture.

It was one, stupid Snapchat that you sent in a moment of weakness. One picture of your ass in a pair of panties that you know made it look incredible. So you took it, and you made sure to send it to Mat, who was in Florida road trip. Mat, however, hasn’t let it go since. Mat didn’t let it go when you sent it, giving you a compliment followed by a cocky text about you must have been thinking about him. Mat didn’t let it go the next day, when he sent you a picture of his backside with a stupid caption that it was his turn. He was convinced it meant something, he wasn’t sure what but it was something.

Did it mean anything? At first, you thought it didn’t. Mat was fun to flirt with, his compliments were always a little out there but they were starting to grow on you. When you realized that, you thought maybe it did mean something. He was gone, and you knew what a night off with a bunch of overgrown children could be like. Mat was probably out at some club with overpriced alcohol and beautiful girls who were out of even Mat’s league. You weren’t usually jealous, especially not of another woman because you always lived by the idea that men were trash and they’d cheat anyways. Mat was just the same, there was no reason for you to think otherwise.

“All I’m saying, is that if you sent me that picture, there had to have been a reason,” Mat argues, leaning against his kitchen counter, “I’m not complaining, I just wanted to point out that you were thinking about me.”

“I wasn’t,” You scoff, coming to your own defense instantly instead of just admitting that you were, “How do you know I didn’t send that to everyone else I’m hooking up with.”

“And who are you hooking with exactly? Because I know your schedule is busy as hell,” Mat says smugly, walking over to you and lifting you onto his counter, “Can’t you just admit you like me a little bit? No bullshit.”

“No bullshit, I can’t stand you,” You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your fingers run through his hair, “You just happen to be exceptional in bed.”

“I’ll take it,” Mat mutters into your neck, “So we fucking now or what?”

“One thing,” You start, pulling his head from the crook of your neck where he seemed to make himself the most comfortable, “You need to keep your mouth shut tomorrow night.”

The day had been circled on your calendar for weeks. It was the second game the Rangers were set to play against the Islanders, at home where you’d run into Mat for the first time you remembered. You didn’t not trust Mat, he’d never given you an actual reason aside from the fact that he lived to irritate you enough into taking your clothes off. You didn’t necessarily trust him either, especially when you knew how intense he could get on the ice. The last thing you needed was for him to say something to one of the guys who you were friends with, let alone the group of dumbasses on the team you couldn’t stand. Mat existed to you in a bubble, the walls of his apartment were the only place you’d let your guard down with him even a little bit, and if he couldn’t keep it to himself all of this was going to crumble in front you.

“I’ll be on my best behavior princess.”

“I thought we agreed that nickname was dead?”

“Suddenly, I can’t hear.”

***

Madison Square Garden was buzzing, and Mat could even admit that to himself. He should be more fired up, a rivalry game on a Saturday night would have him flying on the ice during warm ups to get himself amped up to play - especially in enemy territory.  But, Mat was distracted, because all he ever thought about anymore was you.

You were standing by the benches, scrolling through your phone and talking to Chris. Mat was as close to the bench as he could get without being suspicious, stretching on the ice and using it as an excuse to keep his eyes on you.

“Yeah, Y/N’s hot, but she’s such a bitch-” Mat overheard the voice from someone on the opposing team. His head snapped into the direction of DeAngelo, who Mat knew you couldn’t stand to be around, “Plus she gets around so much, why would anyone want that?”

Mat took three deep breaths, trying to keep his focus on the game and that stupid promise that he’d be on his best behavior. He didn’t need to defend you, Mat knew that, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to punch that fucking idiot square in the jaw.

You were mean, cold and you insulted Mat every second you got. You had walls that were way too high and attitude like no other. Mat refused to believe that made you a bad person. You were nice to strangers, you tipped way too generously, and he liked you. It was so childish, the crush he was hiding from you when every night you were both in New York was spent between the sheets. Technically, he had you, but not in the way he was starting to realize he wanted.

The game was a blur as far as Mat was concerned. He snapped one to the back of the net, a cocky smile on his face because he knew you were watching. It wasn’t until he knew the Islanders had this game in the bag that he started to think about what he heard during warm ups.

So he hit him.

Mat left the game with a fighting major, bloody knuckles, and not one ounce of guilt. He definitely hit too hard, and one too many times according to Trotz who was about to pop a blood vessel while he gave it to him after the game. None of the looks or lectures he got could compare to the daggers he was receiving from you when he made his way to the exit after the game.

“I swear I did it for a reason,” Mat defends instantly, hoping he could just talk you down a little bit.

“I don’t believe you,” You mutter, crossing your arms and taking a deep breath, “I’m not talking about this here.”

“Come home with me then,” Mat suggests, but the look on your face screamed that you didn’t want to do that either, “At least let me take you home.”

After a minor debate about who’s apartment they’d be on their way to, you were sitting with your back turned to Mat in the back of a cab on it’s way to his place.

“Why did you hit him?”

The question slipped out of your mouth before you realized it did, breaking the silent treatment you’d been giving Mat. Mat sighs, taking a deep breath and leaning his head back on the seat.

“I don’t want to tell you,” Mat mumbles, tired eyes practically pleading you to not make him admit it.

“What did he say?” You ask, stepping out of the car and following Mat into his building. Mat went silent, prompting to ask him again.

“I’m not fucking telling you,” Mat huffs out, and you immediately went silent. Mat never once raised his voice at you, even if you probably deserved for him to.

“Why not?” You push a little further, slipping into his place behind him.

Your question lit something up in Mat you’d never seen, passion, rage, whatever it was, it had him pinning you against the door with his breath hot on your neck, “It was about you and before you ask, no I won’t tell you because I fucking respect you.”

You crashed your lips to his the second he stopped talking, grabbing Mat by his neck and pulling him as closely as you could. Mat’s hands gripped your waist, tighter than he had before, “Mat, please.”

“Please what?” Mat asks, leaving a trail of kisses down your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin lightly because he knew how much you loved to hate it.

“Please fuck me,” You practically whimper out, a plead that was so weak and out of character Mat almost stopped you to do a wellness check.

Mat’s lips never left yours while you both stripped and walked into his bedroom, a trail of clothes left behind you. The back of your legs finally hit the bed, laying back and pulling Mat down with you by his chain. You felt Mat’s hand leave your thigh, rummaging around in his dresser for a condom and coming up empty.

“Shit,” Mat curses, the universe was giving a giant middle finger to him right now.

“It’s fine Mat, I’m on the pill,” You assure him, a little entertained while you watched him think about how he was going to get a condom in that moment, “I trust you, now please just ruin me.”

Mat chuckles, capturing your lips in an otherwise sweet kiss if he wasn’t letting his fingers slip under your panties, sliding them off and rubbing the head of his cock against your core, “You thought that fight was hot, didn’t you?”

Mat didn’t give you a chance to respond, sliding into you and closing his eyes so he could appreciate just how good you felt. Mat pins your hands above your head, tucking his head into yours so he could get as close to you as he could. 

“Mat, fuck,” you gasp out, trying to find a grip on anything while Mat pounded into you relentlessly. Your orgasm was quick, the sensation of Mat’s bare cock was too much and if you really wanted to dig your grave you would have told him that. His orgasm came in sync with yours while his hips sputtered and his spilled into you with a groan that was so animalistic it could have made you cum again. You thought he was done when he finally slipped out of you, off to clean you up so you could head out of there as quickly as you came.

“Mat, what are you doing?” You ask, dragging out of your words while you watched Mat pepper kisses down your body and stop at your pussy that was dripping with his cum and your own. 

“I just want a taste,” Mat moans, licking one stripe up your folds and flicking your clit with his tongue, smirking to himself when you threw your head back and whimpered, “Too much?”

“Don’t stop Mat,” You plead, and Mat dove face first into your pussy just the same way he’d done that night in the bar bathroom. Mat knew your body well enough by now, and he loved every part of it. He loved when your toes curled when you cum, he loved how you’d pull on his hair because he was just that good, and he liked when you chanted his name like a prayer when you had sex. He knew what made you tick and what definitely didn’t. And two more orgasms later he was laying his head on your stomach while you tried to catch your own breath.

“Good girl,” Mat mutters into your skin, his finger gently gliding up and down your thigh while he watched the aftershocks of your orgasm cause your legs to shake, “Just stay Y/N, let me take care of you.”

“You’re barely able to take care of yourself,” You mutter, tucking your head into the pillow, “But I’ll stay.”

“That’s my girl,” Mat whispers, tossing you one of his t-shirts, one that was soft like it’d been of his favorites.

“Watch it Barz,” You whisper, letting yourself warm up against Mat while he pulls you against his chest.

“If it’s any consolation, I was thinking about you that night too,” Mat whispers into your shoulder, even though he was sure you were asleep. He tightened his grip on you, as if he was afraid to let you slip through his fingers.

And Mat swore, he saw you smile after the words left his mouth.

[adhdbisexualramblings]

You And Me Against Everyone (a Lucifer fanfic) part of chapter one

the summary isn’t important right now, but here it is: Michael didn’t expect posing as Lucifer to be so hard. But add an infant to the mix which Michael actually starts to care about (shocking, I know) and things start to change. Then there’s a Miss Chloe Decker, who seems determined to take his little boy away from him

Let’s do this!

Michael stared at the walls, seemingly made of rock, and grimaced. This was…much too fancy for his taste. But, if this was how his twin lived, then he would simply have to adapt. Michael started with the bottles lining the wall. He has no idea what they were, but the second he tried one- a maple brown color- he gagged. Why was it bitter? And spicy? And searing his throat? He almost dropped the bottle in his coughing fit, but set it on the counter just as it was about to slip from his fingers. After composing himself, Michael looked in Lucifer’s closet (a walk-in one, of course) to find something to wear. He settled on a simple- if he could call it that- suit and pants. Not casual, but simple by suit standards. His brother’s taste was interesting, to say something good about it, but too flashy. Who was he trying to impress? And why? Why just settle for this all day instead of actual comfortable clothing was lost to Michael, but if you want to pull off a convincing performance, you have to look the part no matter how uncomfortable and sweaty and tight it may be. He adjusted the cuff links, looked at himself in the mirror, cursed hair gel in all the languages he knew, practiced Lucifer’s voice and, once he was sure it was similar enough, went downstairs, trying to figure out how his twin carried himself.

He had a detective to save.

(that was going to be the prologue)

Michael would be lying if he said he liked walks. Sort of. People eyed him warily, which he did find a bit confusing. After all, wasn’t Lucifer mostly liked in L.A? Then someone walked up to him- they were really jittery and close to tears- and told him their fear of being alone and being hated by everyone they ever loved and never getting out of this box that they created based on others’ expectations.

Same.

He nodded and smiled, because that was what politeness was- “I feel that way, too, sometimes.”- , and walked away. He heard faint sobs and “thank you’s” as he walked towards where he knew the next case was. He tried to keep Lucifer’s charisma and so-called charm with and around him, but he wasn’t one of the most confident people. A few seconds after he walked in and started talking to Chloe, he was hit. It sort of hurt, but Michael was more confused than in pain. Miss Lopez- yes, he knew about her and her wonderful optimism- looked very angry with him, which he supposed was reasonable, considering that his asshole of a brother left without saying goodbye to anyone. She chewed “Lucifer” out for exactly that. Michael didn’t really like that she was angry, especially with him, so he tried to calm her down, saying something about “Florida” not having Ella in it. She smiled at him.

“Ah, I can’t stay mad at you!” She hugged him tightly.

The hug was…nice. Wonderful, even. When was the last time he had been hugged? He couldn’t remember. When was the last time he had been held with such admiration and love, actual love? Michael refused to let the tears in his eyes fall. Ella pulled away, which was maybe-but-maybe-not ideal. At least he wouldn’t cry in front of Detective Decker.

Chloe pulled him aside. She told him how he just lied to Ella. I know I did, I was there. He made up some excuse about how time in Hell was different and how he had probably changed for the better, not really listening to his own words. Honestly, he could see why she was attractive to his brother. He wasn’t attracted to her by any means, but she seemed nice. Someone- Daniel- walked by. He glanced at Michael and muttered about how he was back. He was rather angry, the archangel could tell, and also afraid of something. Michael couldn’t tell what, but he called out anyway.

“Daniel?” The accent was actually sort of painful to pull off. The detective turned, smile strained. Michael smiled back genuinely. He was lonely, so he would do Lucifer a favor and make friends with Daniel. “It’s really, really good to see you. And, you’re looking exceptional, by the way.” He wasn’t lying. That leather jacket and casual shirt looked much more comfortable than Lucifer’s suit. Daniel hesitantly shook his hand. Come on, I won't bite. “Oh, I love your bracelet. Did you make that?” He was trying to start up casual conversation, wanting to go somewhere with this friendship thing.

“Uh, no. No, it’s amethyst. Cleansing my chakra, you know?”

“No, actually, I don’t.” Mental note: research what a chakra is. “Well, good luck with that.” He walked away, sure that he had made a connection.

“Thanks, man.”

Chloe said she had to go somewhere, so he waited outside of the building she had disappeared in, which he knew held doctor Linda’s office. She came out and they went back to the police station.

“Interrogation. Yes, an important part of the crime-solving process.”

“Yeah, it’s boring. But you make it fun. You always do.” He tilted his head, staring at where she once was. Did he? If Lucifer was an asset to the LAPD, why would he waste time being silly and not getting anything done? Wasn’t this supposed to be a serious investigation?

So, obviously, he tried to be better.

“Did you hate Judy?” That was apparently the name of their victim. She had been some sort of astronaut who had been stabbed in the neck. Since no one could go in or out of the aircraft, they were investigating every person who had been on the aircraft at the time.

“Well, I didn’t exactly love her. Fact is, Judy was a piggy little thief. Always stealing our food rations.” So, that seemed like a motive. He just had to dig deeper-

“Well,” Chloe chuckled, “The stomach wants what the stomach wants, am I right?” He glanced at her, a bit annoyed. If both his brother and her were silly, how did anything get done? She clapped him on the back, almost making him hiss in pain. His shoulder was still hurting a lot. He decided not to hold it against her.

“Hm? What?”

“I wonder what she desires?” She said, staring at him with- was that concern?

“Well, probably to eat her own food.” She just said that, Chloe. Honestly, catch up.

They interrogated more people. Michael was confused at how strange Chloe was acting. She didn’t seem like she even wanted to be here, making false accusations and handing him “his” flask, asking if he wanted a sip.

There was a problem on the ship with books. There were only five, and yet Judy managed to spoil the ending to all of them. Michael scoffed. As someone who appreciated a good book, that was just slander. After another one of Chloe’s inappropriate comments, the person they were questioning confessed…that they didn’t murder Judy. The rest of them followed suit and said they never wanted to hurt Judy. Michael sighed. This was getting difficult.

“Dearie me. That went nowhere.” He complained, walking towards Chloe’s desk after the interrogations.

“Tell me about it.” She walked up to him and asked, “Hey, are you OK?” It wasn’t a question for him, but he felt warm at her concern nonetheless.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Don’t you want to do something impulsive, inappropriate, sinful, you know?” She vaguely gestured next to her. He looked to see a pudding cup. She noticed his staring, grabbed it, and pushed it to him. He took it, confused.

“Eat this.”

She wouldn’t try to poison her own partner, right?

He complied. It was sweet, and also chocolate flavored. Michael sort of liked it. Dan walked up to them. He said hi to Chloe, then looked at the pudding cup in Michael’s hands.

“Hey, is that my pudding?” He sounded disapproving, and Michael was reminded of his father’s anger. He gulped down the spoonful that had been in his mouth, suddenly nervous. He decided the best course of action would be to give Daniel his pudding. His newfound friendship with the detective was more important than some pudding he could always buy at the store.

“Yes. Here you go, Daniel.” He handed it back quickly, not wanting to think about his nervousness anymore. Daniel looked surprised, but took it anyway.

“OK. What’s your game?” His tone was still suspicious, making Michael wince. He tried not to let his slight twitching worm into his words.

“Nothing. Just thought you would like it.” He watched as Daniel smelled the pudding, then tasted it.

“You spit into it, didn’t you?” He glared. Michael slightly shook his head, but Dan either didn’t see it or didn’t care. He walked away, muttering “he spit into it”. Michael felt hurt, if he was honest.

that’s it. I tried to give Michael an internal dialogue that can match his actions (if that makes sense)

this started as a Lucifer kidfic (with the character) but I didn’t know how to continue it. Then there was this thing on AO3 that I wanted to be a part of (a Michael defense squad of sorts) so I changed it all together. I got a lot more done so I think I’ll keep it

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Boom

Jason ‘J.D.’ Dean x Reader

Words: 1819

Part One

Summary: Preparing to run away together, J.D. and the reader hit a problem in their plan. J.D.’s father. Things take a turn and J.D. has to decide if this new feeling of love is real enough to die for. 

Notes: I know I took forever to write this and I’m sorry! I’m ashamed of how much I love J.D. but here we are. Same as the first part. This has been sooooo much fun to write and I hope that you guys like it! (Again, if you’re at all uncomfortable just skip this)

Warnings: Murder (duh), sex (not smut, but definitly more than I’ve ever done before), language, same as the first part

More 80s/90s: HERE

-

The backseat of your mother’s car was not ideal for this kind of celebration, but you couldn’t wait to get back to the house, so you found a spot in the forest to pull over. J.D.’s face was buried in your neck and your fingers were tangled up in his black hair. He was in a particularly good mood. 

The cops fell for it. Both murders were covered up perfectly. Tommy’s was ruled a suicide and he would forever be remembered as the school pervert. Nobody was surprised by your mother’s death and it was quickly written off as an overdose. The only thing left was to pack. The two of you were getting out of this fucking little town and you were never looking back. 

Pressed together like this, you knew that you didn’t give a shit what happened if it wasn’t with him. Looking into your eyes, J.D. reached a similar conclusion. You were what he wanted. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted something. 

“Where do you think we’ll go?” You asked, situating yourself on top of his chest. He shrugged. 

“Anywhere.” 

You settled into a comfortable silence, his fingers lightly drumming on the small of your back. This was actually happening. For the first time in your life you didn’t feel trapped. You could do whatever the hell you wanted. You had gotten away with two murders for fuck’s sake. You were invincible. 

-

J.D. felt different. Hell, he was feeling, which was a different sensation on its own. He fell back onto his bed with a grin on his face. It wasn’t that someone had broken through the ice. It was more like he had found someone drowning underneath the frost just like him. 

“Hey dad, how was your day?” His dad asked sarcastically, popping his head in the doorway. J.D. didn’t even look up and his dad didn’t stay long enough for a response. It was more of a routine than actual affection. In just a few hours, it wouldn’t matter anyway. His dad could blow himself up for all he cared. He would be long gone. 

He eventually figured that he needed to start packing. He shoved his motorcycle keys in his pockets with a sigh. He’d have to sell it. The two of you would be taking your mom’s old car so you’d have somewhere to sleep, so his motorcycle would have to go. 

“The things I do for love.” He snarked to himself. When he opened his drawers, he found them all empty. “What the hell?” All of them were empty, his clothes were nowhere to be found. He stepped into the hall and saw the pair of suitcases at the bottom of the stairs. 

“I packed everything up for you while you were gone.” His dad walked by them, looking up the stairs at him. J.D. shrugged. 

“Convenient, but why?” 

“We’re finally moving out of this shit hole town. On to sunny Florida!” He had that smile on his face that he usually used to appeal to businessmen and other corrupt assholes. J.D. just laughed. 

“Well isn’t that just perfect timing?” He bounded down the steps with his chaotic grin plastered on his face. “Looks like we are finally parting ways, son.” His dad faltered. 

“What?” 

“Goodbye, adios, adieu.” J.D. grabbed his suitcase and started back up towards his room. “Soon, I will be out of your hair forever. You can go on with your life of bombs and demolition and I will go on with my own kind of destruction.” He pat his dad on the head, ruffling his hair like a normal father would his normal son. 

“Jason, you can’t just leave.” Bud’s smile strained. “We’re a team, you and I.” J.D. stopped suddenly and laughed. 

“Team? Sorry dad, but the only thing we even know about each other is our love of all things explosive.” 

“This is about that girl, isn’t it? The slutty one you’ve been fucking around with since we moved here.” He shook his head, chuckling deeply. “You’ll get bored with her soon enough, so don’t bother.” J.D. just smirked smugly. 

“Thanks for the advice there, pops, but I think I can handle my slutty girlfriend all on my own.” He started to close his bedroom door, but his dad put his foot in the way. 

“You don’t get to leave like she did, boy.” 

“The fuck are you talking about?” 

“I’m not making that mistake again, J.D.” A creepy, maniacal smile spread across Bud’s face. Fuck, I thought I was the only psycho in the family. “Just stay here and I’ll do what I do best.” He moved his foot and slammed the door shut. J.D. heard something scratching and scraping on the other side and quickly tried to get out. 

“You locked me in here with a chair? Seriously!” He screamed through the wood. No response. “Motherfucker.” He paced back and forth plotting a very bloody demise for dear old dad when he heard the squealing of tires outside his window. “Where the hell is he going?” 

Wherever it was, J.D. wasn’t going to be kept out of it. He tried kicking down the door, but that didn’t work. The only way out of the room was the window, but there was nothing to climb down and he was on the second floor. J.D. unlocked the latch and lifted up the window pane, looking out to see just how far of a drop it was. He’d live.

 Without hesitation, he jumped. 

“Fuck!” He shouted, pain shooting up his leg from his ankle. He fell to the ground, but was able to get himself on his feet. His foot hurt like a bitch, but he could bare it enough to walk to his motorcycle. 

He was at your house in less than ten minutes, breaking every traffic rule in the book. He didn’t care, he just wanted to get out. Limping his way up the sidewalk, he found that your front door was already open. 

“Time to go, Y/N. Grab your stuff and let’s get out of here!” He shouted, but the house was empty. Just the strong stench of death and booze that your mother had left behind. Mother. He remembered his dad’s comment and felt a chill. Do what he does best. “Oh shit.” He took off again, heading for his father’s next destruction sight before you became part of it.

-

You spat, hitting him in the eye as he finished cuffing you to the old hospital bed frame. Bud grabbed you by the hair and slammed your head into one of the metal bars. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of crying. Instead you just glared at him through squinted eyes. 

“He’s going to come get me.” You smirked, trying to get the blurriness in your version to clear. “J.D. is going to tear you apart you sick bastard.” 

“You can call me all the names in the book, kid, but my son is coming with me.” He tightened the cuff so that it dug sharply into the skin of your wrist. 

“When did you become the ‘world’s best dad’?” You scoffed. 

“Do you know how much more lenient a judge can be when I’ve got a poor, disturbed teenage boy who depends on me for a living?” 

“So he’s just a legal bargaining chip for you? How sweet.” You pulled against your restraints until the metal broke skin. Blood oozed from your wrist and Bud laughed. 

“Really, Jason couldn’t have picked a better girl for the job. You’re the most disposable person in this town. No family, no friends, no one to report you missing.” He strapped the main bomb to the other end of the bed and started the timer. “And there will be nothing left of you once this does it’s job.” 

“Go to hell.” 

“Lady’s first.” 

You stared at him, wandering if he was the last person you’d ever see. God, that’d be the real tragedy here. You looked at the timer on the bomb. Less than three minutes. Bud noticed you looking and chuckled. 

“I wouldn’t get any ideas. If that one doesn’t go off, there are three more upstairs.” He pointed to the ceiling and then made the motion of it caving in with his hands. 

“You’re enjoying this to a creepy level, Mr. Dean.” You snarked. If you could piss him off, maybe he wouldn’t get out in time. At least then you’d take him out with you. “What, does blowing up 18-year-old girls get you off or something? Is that why your wife killed herself?” He tensed and balled his hand into a fist. 

“You think you’re really cute, don’t you, you little bitch?” 

“No, but your son does.” You smiled sarcastically. Bud just rolled his eyes and turned to leave, meeting the barrel of a gun. 

“Hey there, son.” J.D. growled. Bud held up his hands. 

“Jason, I can-” The gunshot ripped through the small space, making your ears ring. As his dad’s body slumped to the floor, J.D. shrugged. 

“Sorry, tiger, I’m not in the mood for a monologue.” He knelt in front of you, eyes darting to the timer on the other side. 

“Jason Dean, knight in shining black trenchcoat.” You laughed, pulling again at the handcuffs. He moved over to his dad’s body, searching his pockets but coming back empty handed. 

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath. 

“What is it?” 

“No key.” J.D. ran his fingers through his hair, switching his attention to disabling the bomb. Your face fell as the realization hit you. 

“It’s no use. There are more upstairs that are going to go off even if this one doesn’t.” You slumped against the bed frame. His greenish gold eyes looked back at you and for a second you though you saw a hint of panic. You really did love him. “You should go.”

“What?”

“Get out of here, J.D. You don’t have much time.” You tried to keep calm, but your body was betraying you. Your arms were shaking and your face felt hot. You weren’t scared to die, but you were scared to die alone. 

“You really think I’m just going to leave you here?” J.D. shook his head and sat on the edge of the bed frame. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me now. Afterlife and all.” 

“J.D…” You sighed. He silenced you with a hungry kiss. 

“What did I say after we killed that douchebag ex of yours?” He pulled you closer, snaking an arm around your back. Your lips pulled up into a smile. 

“Our love is God.” 

“Our love is God.” He repeated, his eyes sparkling. This time, you pulled him in for the kiss and you stayed pressed together until-

Boom.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks Christian Slater: @staxryskxes

[blissfulparker]

Seasick→P.P pt.2

Parings→ peter Parker x reader

Warnings→slowburn, fake dating, fluff

Summary→when you lie to your mom about having a boyfriend before vactation peter steps in to help. But being in a fake relationship isnt as easy as you thought. especially not easy when you two have feelings for one another. 

A/n→ here is part two of seasick! @spectacularlyspidey made me this lovely moodboard, I love Ren 🥰 I hope you guys enjoy it and I’m going to try and post it more often if that is what you guys want💗

Toothbrush, Peter, you need your toothbrush.” May helps him pack. She seemed more excited than peter. Peter placed his clothes into bens old suitcase as if it was a chore. Hes scared, beyond scared. What if your family hates him, what if they think hes less of what they expected, what if they catch on? All the ideas and scenarios ran through his head.

“May, i've got it. I'm 19 not 14.” he reminded her and she pouted. She knew the whole plane, he had nothing to hide from her Anyways.

“You know that you can still say no.” she comes over to run a hand through Peter's hair. She knew when Peter had a crush, she always did. Although normally he'd get scared of going on a field trip with one or a study date, never a summer vacation.

“She needs me to do this. I told her i would and were setting boundaries on the plane so when we get there its not weird.” he told her and she hummed.

“I know you really like her, like more than a friend. I have a tingle too.” she teases and peter scrunches his face. “But think this can be a start, you maybe could start something here.” she kisses his forehead before leaving him in his rom to finish packing. He looks over at his phone to see the time, he sees how you’ll be at his house soon and picking him up for the airport. The airport where you'd meet your family in Florida where you’d go out to sea.

He shuts the suitcase and listens to the sound of it zipping up before flopping on his bed letting the time run out.

-

8 hours, it was an 8 hour flight filled with anxiety and fear. You had both agreed on a list. A list of things to do around your family

-forehead kisses are allowed(kisses on the lips not necessary unless needed)

-holding hands as often as we can

-snuggling up to one another

-going places together like the pool or restaurant

-pet names

-make up stories about each other

-hands always on one another

That was about it. That's all you two had to do and you'd keep it up for a week. Then when the two of you get home things go back to normal. Normal. That word hurt peters ears. Normal meant there were no real feelings and he'd have to let go of you.

“I-i can hold your bags.” he offered as you two got off the plane. He wore his Columbia hoodie with sweats, probably not the best option for landing in Florida but he was so nervous.

You give him a warm smile and nod. You were nervous too, for almost all the same reasons as peter. You wished you could have just taken ned, ned or another friend who was just seen as your friend. Someone you didn't have to think so much about kissing. Someone you didn't have to think about pretending to hold. Someone you didn't have to worry catching feelings for.

“Wait,” you stop him and he looks at you with soft eyes. “My mom is really....touchy. She loves hugging and she might kiss your cheek. It’s nothing to intentionally make you uncomfortable but i'm really sorry in advance.” you warn him.

He nods as from a distance your mom shouts your name. She's wearing a sundress and sandals, ready for a vacation. Your dad is next to her smiling ready to hug you, now he knew it was real. All of it was now real. If your mom and dad intimidated him he was scared to see the rest of your family.

“Oh sweetheart i've missed you so much, ugh New York is such a small yet big state. We wished college did hog you so much.” she kisses your cheeks.

“Mom, dad, this is my boyfriend...Peter, the one I've been telling you about.” you hold his arm and he's already smiling and going in to shake hands. Your mom takes him for a hug and gets pink lipgloss on his cheek.

He sees how much you look like her, the hair, the eyes, the smile that's so contagious, but the personalities are completely different. She was bubbly and happy all over the place while you, you were a little more reserved and only showed the good side to your friends. Save the best parts of you for the best people.

“Ugh i was starting to think she'd never get one, especially not one so handsome and smart.” she holds his arms giving them a squeeze. “Wow he works out too you can really tell.” You quickly take him back before he gets uncomfortable.

“Mom…” you warn and she scoffs.

“Sweetheart, you know I'm teasing. Your sisters are already boarded and waiting so we can leave when you two are ready.” sisters. You never told him about sisters. He didn't even know you had any siblings. He thought you were always an only child. You never talked about any siblings or really family except your mom and dad and occasionally your aunt.

But he can tell by your facial expressions that you were already dreading it more than him, dredging sisters but he didn't know why. He wasn't going to push it either. By the shift in your body he knew it was best to just question when you two were alone.

He willingly followed your family into a cab where you four set off for a week of one of the hardest masks he had to put on, the mask of pretending to love you when he really did but could never tell you.

-

Never being on a cruise ship before he had no idea what to expect. His bare knowledge being the titanic—which did not help his fear of the ocean—even for the smartest kid, normally, he didn’t know much about boats. He never even considered himself to be on one, until last summer he never even thought he’d be in Europe for his senior year of highschool. That’s how he had to think of this, Europe. Semi-relaxing, regular peter, Europe. This was a once and a lifetime opportunity for him to be on a cruise with no Spider-Man activity, No stress, nothing but the sun on his skin.

“So we eat dinner at 7pm, you kids can get all settled in...maybe find yourself at the spa or the pool. Don’t be shy to order room service, ugh the boy is handsome but skinny.” Your mom comments once again. You give her eyes and a groan as you follow her down the hall to your room. “Oh please, you eat too, you're starting to lose your color.” She picks up your arm and you take it back.

He didn’t think the teasing was that bad, sure the appearance comments were too soon but he thought it was all a part of her bubbly personality. May teases all of them to eat when they’re over. May has teased all of them but always in a nice way.

When Peter dated Gwen—his ex girlfriend—last year she was the same. Always telling Peter about his appearance but he never really cared what she had to say. He just really needed someone at the time to move on from you.

“Here is your room, you kids have fun.” She hands you the card and kisses your cheek. “Wear the sundress your sister picked out, don’t be late.” She warned and walked down the hall. Only a few hours in and you wished you would’ve made some crap excuse about having a late final or actually telling the truth.

You two enter the room and Peter is shocked. It’s a gorgeous beach themed room. If he were a child he would already be jumping on the bed and touching everything. You seem to just drop your bags on the floor and immediately go to the bathroom. He leaves you be, taking in the beauty of the room, the California king bed, the wall hung T.V. The view of the ocean that made him slightly nervous but he didn’t mind. There was a dress on the bed, the sundress your mom wanted you to wear.

“Oh fuck.” You rub your face seeing that there’s the one bed. You thought maybe she’d at least use some sense and get two beds, that or a two roomed hotel. “I’m sorry pete, I thought she would maybe get us two rooms or—“

Another thing he seemed to notice was how money didn’t seem to be an issue for your family yet you never seemed to come off as well off. You lived in a small apartment like peter, your clothes were mostly thrifted or old, you ate ramen about three times a week and if it wasn’t that it was cheap pizza. Just like the rest of the group. You never came off as rich, it shocked him to even hear about a cruise, it shocked him even more that you could just say about how they could’ve gotten two rooms on a ship.

“It’s a California king,” he gestures. “We’ll fit without touching each other.” He calms you with a soft smile seeing how stressed you were.

“You’re not too scared of ships are you?” You ask him remembering how he said something about being afraid of the water.

“Well...Uh...no but yes, it makes me nervous but—“ your hand places itself over peters for comfort and he freezes up. You notice and quickly take your hand away.

“It won’t feel like anything trust me, you don’t feel the ship rock or anything. It’s not the titanic.” You reminded him as you picked up your phone and looked at the time. You two had plenty of time to get yourself ready.

“So….” he clasp his hands together and you look over to him. “For dinner how should I act?” He questions. You’re getting comfortable in the bed already while he’s still scared to touch it.

“Just be Peter, um...maybe a hand around my shoulder at one point or hand holding? Just like our list said. Really sell it. They’re gonna ask a lot of questions of how we met and stuff like that but I can do all of them if you want.” You tell him and he nods.

“Right,” he responded thinking the best thing to do was just be peter, the peter you knew, not the peter who was totally in love with you. “Just be peter.”

And that’s all he had to do.

Permanent Taglist: @hoodiesparker @dahliaspidey​ @parkersvibes​ @itssss-a-bean @ppkrtingle @myfinalwords​ @bocaul @tinyplanet-explorers​ @sincerlyfan @softbaby-tom​ @awesomeblackcottontail​ @rosebeegraham @stormyholland​ @unicorn-princess-1999​ @spideyyypeter​ @marshyrebelcloud​ @oh-epiphany @yeahimcrying @highlydisfunctional1​ @disgustangg @pterstingle @quacksonhq @starlightparker @reblogsfics​ @tomsrebeleyebrow​ @dreamyyholland​ @imaginashawnns @imaginashawnns​@alilpunkrock​ @kthemarsian​@peterspideysenses​ @lovely-valllll​ @lowkey-holland​ @hannaholland1811 @kthemarsian @maryjane23

[ilici]

that’s my brother.

Summary: Sapnap and Dream go to the UK to visit George, and Sapnap has a one night stand with someone who looks oddly familiar. 

(This is the exact same as “that’s my sister” but the pronouns are changing and a bit of the plot is going to change George’s brother has George’s features minus his hair, and eye color. Reader will be wearing a skirt, if you don’t like that you can change it to what you want.)

Warnings: Oral (giving), praising, slight size kink, choking, hand job, slight degrading. 

Word Count: 2714

Sapnap leaned back in the passenger seat, and propped his feet up on the dashboard. “I’d appreciate if you didn’t dirty up the rental car.” Dream spoke up, glancing over at Sapnap before he turned his attention back to the road. Sapnap only scoffed, but kept his feet propped up. “I am aching Dream, we’ve been in every type of vehicle you can think of in the past 12 hours.” Sapnap whined, wanted to finally be able to relax. “Shut up, I’ve drove two of those hours, and the rest was on an airplane where you slept the entire time.” Dream said, shaking his head at his friends whinny behavior. “Yeah? So what? I was still in a vehicle.” He said, shaking his head, and looked at the passing buildings.

“How long do we have left till we even get to George’s house?” He asked, and Dream looked down at his phone that was on his lap giving him the directions. “About ten minutes.” He confirmed, and Sapnap felt relieved he only had to be inside the car for ten more minutes. “Thank God.” He mumbled, and looked over at him, “Didn’t George recently move out of his mom’s house and into his own place?” He asked, and Dream nodded. “Yeah, if he was still living with his mom we would've done been there 20 minutes ago.” He admitted, and Sapnap mentally cussed George out. “Does George live alone?” He asked and Dream shrugged, “He’s mentioned he has a brother that comes and visits a lot, so I would assume so.”

After a long ten minute drive, they pulled up to a gated house. “He seriously has a gate?” Sapnap said, and Dream looked at him, “Our house has a gate dumbass.” He said, and Sapnap laughed, “True true.” He nodded his head, as the gate opened for them. “He must’ve seen us on his camera or something.” Dream muttered under his breath as he drove up the driveway. “This house is huge holy shit.” Sapnap said, gawking at the house. “Well yeah, Brighton has better houses than Florida.” Dream said as if it were obvious, “It’s like a whole three stories.” He said, as they parked. George’s figure came into view and he excitedly waved at them. “Hey guys!” George said as he walked to the rental car, planning to help with their luggage. “Hey George.” Sapnap said, as he grabbed his suitcase and some of his duffle bags. Dream greeted George with a hug, and grinned. “I’ll show you two to your rooms.” George said, grabbing what was left.

As the three walked in, Dream and Sapnap were smacked with the smell of French toast. “Did you cook?” Dream asked bewildered, “No, my brother made food for us before he left to go home.” George explained, and the other two nodded. “He seems sweet.” Sapnap said, and Dream nodded in agreement, “He has his moments like every sibling would.” He explained, and Dream mentally agreed thinking back to his sisters. “Sapnap your room is on the second floor and to the right, Dream yours is on the third floor and to the left.” He informed them, and Sapnap instantly looked at George, “Why can’t I be on the third floor?” He asked, and George stared at him blankly, “Because I’d prefer you fall down two sets of stairs then three.” Dream laughed at this and Sapnap attempted to flip him off, straining his arm in the process from all the weight.

Walking up the stairs and into his designated room, he placed everything down and took in the room. “What the..” He whispered, seeing how clean everything was. The room was a dark grey, and had a huge window as a wall on his right, letting him see the clear vision of beautiful mountains. He found himself staring at the scenery, it took his breath away, “Sapnap?” George asked waving a hand in front of Sapnap. Snapping out of his thoughts, he blinked repeatedly and looked over to George, “Yeah?” He asked, and George scoffed. “I've been calling your name for the longest time.” He said waving his arms about, exaggerating. “Yeah yeah whatever.” Sapnap said, waving him off. “Get dressed, we are going to eat then I’m taking you to the club because Dream said you needed to loosen up from all the traveling.” He said, shocked that Sapnap wasn’t jet lagged.

Sapnap nodded and practically pushed George out of the room. Getting dressed, he put on black jeans, a corpse hoodie he received from Corpse himself with a note that said, “I apologize for not knowing you.” Slipping on his shoes, he walked out, not really caring about his appearance too much since he never really mattered to him in the first place. As they all finished eating, it was nearing 8 pm. Getting into the car, Dream made sure George didn’t drive, especially since it was night time. “Just because you got your license a month ago, doesn't mean I will trust you.” Dream said, as George sulked in the passenger side. Sapnap just looked at the scenery as they drove to the club. Feeling the car come to a halt, Sapnap looked up and he grinned, “I am going to get so wasted. I am so glad the age limit is different in the UK.” Sapnap said, and Dream laughed, “You turned 20 like two weeks ago, you’re crazy.” He said shaking his head as everyone got out.

After 4 cosmo’s Sapnap was wasted, and was now on the dance floor as Dream was drinking nothing for being the designated driver. “I hate babysitting.” Dream said, looking at George who shrugged, since he didn’t really like alcohol that much. “At least someone is having fun.” George mumbled, trying to find Sapnap in the mass amount of people. Without any luck, neither of them spotted him. Sapnap on the other hand, was now dancing with a boy who was wearing a Harvard sweater with a collared shirt under, and a white skirt. His features seemed similar but he couldn’t put a finger on it. His E/C and H/C was what threw him off, everything else seemed like deja vu.

His pale smooth skin, and his full plump lips, that he was dying to kiss so badly. Grabbing his hips, the two were grinding on each other. He loved the way his skirt would raise up every now and then from the grinding, “You’re beautiful.” He whispered into his ear, and the boy blushed. “Let’s get out of here, yeah?” He asked, and he nodded, “I’m going to go tell my friends that I am leaving. My place or yours? I live with my friends, so if you live alone your place is the better option for more privacy.” He said, slurring his words a tad. “My place.” He finally spoke, and his voice sounded silky and innocent if even possible. It sounded intoxicating, grinning he trailed his hand up the side of his thigh as he told her to wait for him outside. Walking in the direction of his friends, Sapnap saw them. “I’m going home with someone, you two can go home.” He said, and the other two just shot up ready to leave.

Sapnap rushed outside, calling an uber as he walked out. “Let’s go.” He said, grabbing his hand, the two stumbling about. Both were drunk, but they knew what they were doing. When the uber arrived, the boy told him his address and Sapnap couldn’t keep his hands off of him. He was either touching his thighs, or subtly kissing his neck, he felt intoxicated by him. Y/N on the other hand was growing frustrated at the touches, his sexual frustration was getting to him. “Fuck this.” He mumbled, and climbed over to straddle Sapnap, ordering the uber driver to keep his eyes on the road. “God you’re so hot.” Sapnap whispered to him, and Y/N crashed his lips on Sapnap’s, the two feeling intoxicated from each other.

Pulling away, Sapnap groaned, “I don’t know if it’s the alcohol in my system, but I could get drunk off your lips.” He said, biting his bottom lip and tugged on it. Chuckling Y/N shook his head, and gasped when he felt Sapnap’s hand going up his skirt. Leaning his head back, he bit his bottom lip holding in a moan as he let Sapnap palm him through his underwear. “Someones enjoying themself, aren’t they?” He teased, and Y/N whined nodding his head too embarrassed to say anything. The fact that the uber driver could hear and see everything made him so much more excited. Slipping his hand under Y/N’s underwear, Sapnap gripped his dick and Y/N let a moan slip out. “Fuck that was hot.” He said watching him, as his face contorted into one of pleasure. Sapnap, was now pumping his hand on Y/N’s dick, loving how he would squirm under his touch. Speeding up his hand, Y/N gripped onto Sapnap’s shoulder as he was growing close.

Speeding up once more, he rubbed his thumb over Y/N’s tip, and that’s what set him off. Letting out a strand of curses, he felt himself cum in Sapnap’s hand and in his underwear. Sapnap watched the sight in front of him, watching him unravel was the prettiest sight ever. Hearing a throat being cleared, the two looked to the front, and noticed they were now at his house. Y/N mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ as the two stumbled out of the car. Y/N paid the uber driver double since he had to witness everything. “Come on pretty boy.” Sapnap said, picking him up and placed him down once they made it to his front door. Fumbling with his keys, he quickly unlocked the door. The two rushed in and in a matter of seconds, Y/N was shoved against the door, Sapnap kissing him deeply and passionately. “Off now.” He mumbled against his lips, as he pulled his skirt and underwear off skillfully. Pulling away, Y/N let the skirt and underwear fall to his ankles. Sapnap looked at Y/N’s already messy dick hungrily, the raging red tip making him groan.

“I can’t even wait to get into your room. I am going to fuck you, right here, right now. Understood?” He said, reaching up grabbing his neck as Y/N whimpered nodding his head. “Since I let you have your moment in the car, you’re gonna give me a reward.” He said pushing him down by the throat and Y/N licked his lips in anticipation. Sapnap eagerly took off his hoodie and shirt, throwing it across the living room. “You do it.” He said, motioning for him to unzip his pants. Nodding, he started unzipping his pants, and unbuttoned them. “Use your words baby.” He said, caressing his jawline, and Y/N bit his bottom lip, “Yes sir.” He said, and Sapnap smirked, “Good boy.” He said, and he hissed a bit when he felt the cool air hit his now free dick. Y/N looked at his dick, it was long and thick. He didn’t know if it was going to be able to fit.

“Go on.” He urged him, and Y/N nodded snapping out of his trance. Grabbing the base of his dick, he gave it a long lick and Sapnap groaned leaning his head back at the sensation. Tangling his fingers in his hair, he tugged onto the strands lightly. Slowly he licked the precum off the tip, and finally wrapped his lips around his dick. Bobbing his head slowly, Sapnap let out a small moan, as he looked down at the pretty boy. “Eyes on me baby.” He said, and Y/N looked up at him with his round innocent looking eyes, which made him want to destroy him right then and there. Not wanting to waste time, he started thrusting into his mouth. Y/N on the other hand, was special as he had no gag reflex. This; however, caught Sapnap off guard completely. “God such a good little slut you are for me.” He said, biting his bottom lip.

He was amazed by him even more, he let him face fuck him, and he felt himself growing close to his climax. Shoving his dick down his throat as he felt himself cum, he slowly pulled out of Y/N’s mouth. “Swallow.” He ordered, and he obediently swallowed. Picking him up quickly he shoved him against the wall, loving how small Y/N was compared to him. “Are you ready baby?” He asked, and Y/N eagerly nodded his head. “I’m ready please just fuck me.” He whined out, and Sapnap quickly turned him around, pushing him against the wall. “Do you have lube?” Sapnap asked, and Y/N nodded pointing towards the bathroom. Quickly Sapnap bolted to the bathroom grabbing the lube. Walking back, he poured some onto Y/N and put some on his dick. Slowly entering into him giving him time to adjust. Y/N let out a strangled moan, as he wrapped his hand around his throat again. “God you’re so tight.” He groaned out, thrusting up into him roughly when Y/N motioned him to go. Y/N was a moaning mess, he kept trying to hold in his moans, but they kept escaping no matter what. Feeling herself growing close once again, Sapnap smirked, “Cum.” He whispered in his ear, leaning down to add hickeys on his neck. As he wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist pumping his dick to help.

The way Y/N’s body was so pale and empty, it was as if he was an empty canvas waiting to be painted on. So he took it upon himself to make sure he had hickeys  scattered every where he could reach. Feeling him sticky substance on his hand, he realized he had came. Groaning at this, Sapnap felt himself cum, and Y/N whimpered feeling the warm substance fill him up. Pulling out, Sapnap groaned at the sight, of his cum leaking out. Y/N soon felt himself being picked up, and a wet substance being rubbed on his ass. He assumed it was a wet washcloth, mumbling out a small ‘thank you’ he felt his upper body being covered by an oversized hoodie. Sapnap sat him on the bed, and helped him put on new underwear, he slipped on his own underwear and laid in bed. The two quickly fell asleep.

“What the hell?” Sapnap heard, and he groaned, as he slowly opened his eyes. Looking around, he finally remembered where he was. Looking over he saw Y/N still peacefully sleeping. Growing confused at the voice, he looked around and saw nothing. Looking over he noticed the beautiful stranger also had a window for a wall showing a beautiful forest instead. He wouldn’t mind waking up to that every morning, and the boy beside of him. Slowly getting up, he walked downstairs, hearing hushed voices. “Sapnap?” He heard, and Sapnap whipped around to see a red faced George, and a hysterical Dream. “I told you that was his shirt!” Dream said in between laughs. George paid no mind to him as he pointed a finger at Sapnap, “You slept with my brother?!” George yelled, and Sapnap chuckled. “So that’s who he reminded me of.” He said, and everyone went quiet when they heard soft pattering of feet walking down the stairs. Sapnap’s heart melted at the sight of Y/N tiredly rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “George?” He asked, and George visibly calmed at his voice, “Y/N you slept with my best friend Sapnap?” George asked, and the two looked at each other. “Y/N.” “Sapnap.” The two said at the same time, finally knowing their names. “Sapnap you are lucky, and he better not be a one night stand, because you are now living in the UK.” George said, and Y/N looked over at Sapnap, “Maybe we can go on a date later?” Sapnap said, and the boy smiled nodding his head. “How old is Y/N anyways?” Dream asked, and both Y/N and George answered, “He’s my twin.”

[let-it-raines]

Walking the Baseline (Year: 2015)

Summary: This should be the happiest he’s been in years, but it’s not. He and Emma already had wildly different schedules, but now that she’s no longer on tour, it feels like they barely see each other. When they do, it’s for a day here, a week there, two if they’re lucky. That’s no way to live when his girlfriend is carrying their baby and freaking out about it more than he is.

If only he could have a bloody break from tennis to focus on his personal life for once.  

He’s got to be careful what he asks for.

Rating: Teen +

a/n: Hello again! I know these have been slow going, but I’m here with another installment! This may or may not be the last one. I haven’t decided on that yet, so we’ll see what happens there as I know there are many more things that could be told in this universe but don’t know how much motivation I have to write them 😘

ao3: 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 (CURRENT) | 2016 (original one-shot) |

Tumblr: 2012 | 2013 | 2014 | 2015 (CURRENT) | 2016 (original one-shot) |

-/-

November 2014.

Shit.

“This is bad,” Rob says from across the room, as if that isn’t the most obvious bit of information on the planet right now. “What are you going to do, mate?”

He wants to do a myriad of things, but he can’t right now.

“Play my match and then call Emma and make sure she’s okay.” Killian shrugs and bends down at the knees to squat against the wall. He hits the timer on his phone for a minute, and he tries to focus on that instead of the news Ariel just texted him.

He’s not doing great at that. All these years of being able to block life out before a match have suddenly deteriorated.

“Do you want to call her now?” Robin prods.

“She won’t answer if I call now. Watch.” Killian exits out of the timer and hits Emma’s number on his phone. It rings and rings and rings, and she never answers. He stands from his squat and tries again. Still, no answer. “Emma, darling,” he speaks into the phone, “I’m about to play, so I can’t talk to you anytime soon. I love you. Everything is alright, yeah? We knew this was going to happen at some point, but I’m sorry it happened this way. I’ll call you as soon as I can. You and the babe stay safe, alright?”

“Do you think that’s going to do any good?”

“No,” Killian answers honestly, “it’s not. She’s going to be freaking the hell out, and nothing is going to calm her down, certainly not me.”

He thumbs through his phone once more, looking through his texts and clicking on the links Ariel sent him. It’s pictures of Emma in her neighborhood, which is supposed to be private. That is a lie, though, because someone managed to take pictures of Emma walking to get her mail, her clothes tight enough that the roundness of her stomach is obvious, especially compared to how she usually looks.

It’s not good. Not good at all.

After the US Open, Emma stopped playing, telling the WTA she was out for the rest of the season on injury. A few people know because of how often Emma has to get drug tested, but it’s all been a well-kept secret.

That is no longer true.

Bloody hell.

“Mr. Jones,” the tournament director says when he pokes his head in the warm-up room, “it’s time to go.”

“Aye, I’ll be right there.” He stands from his squat and stretches out his legs, jumping up and down a few times before grabbing his racket bag from the floor. “Rob, get Ariel to try calling Emma while I’m playing. She’s more likely to talk to her than any of us.”

“I’ll try.” Rob nods and claps his hand over Killian’s back. “Good luck in your match. I know it’s a rubber, but don’t be a loser.”

Killian blows air out of his nose with his laugh. “I’ll try not to be a loser. My fucking motto for life.”

-/-

Killian isn’t a loser that day, but he is out of the tournament. He hates the season-ending final, how it’s a round robin event. He lost the same amount of matches as the man who got to advance to the semi-finals but because he lost three more games, he’s packing his bags to go home.

(Though, he didn’t hate it when he won it years ago, but now is not the time to think of his own hypocrisy.)

To his home here in London, half an hour away from the tournament, instead of back in America with Emma. It’s been odd staying here for the past two weeks. For so long, he was used to living here alone. Sure, Ariel and Rob would pop in, especially after Milah, but it was his home. It was a place to sleep and shower and watch television between having to constantly be on the road and in the air. Then Emma came along and though she’s here less frequently, she’s made her mark.

Some of her clothes litter his closet, her mugs fill his cabinets, blankets she has bought are in the baskets in his den. She hasn’t been here since mid-September when they needed to get away for a little while, but she’s still everywhere. Killian has been finding her bobby pins in his carpet the entire time he’s been here.

The only thing of Emma’s that isn’t here is Emma.

The sun has set outside, darkness taking over, and though it’s past midnight in America, Killian presses Emma’s name on his phone as he sets the timer on the oven for his dinner.

“Hello?”

“Now, tell me why you’ll answer your phone at one in the morning but not during daylight hours?”

“Because I’m a stubborn ass with no real sense of time.”

Killian huffs and moves to his living room, plopping down on the couch. “Now, I thought that was me.”

“It is. We both are. It’s why we’re dating.”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Well, I could say other things, but I’m trying to work on my dirty jokes, trying to say fewer of them.”

“Oh, you should never do that. I like when you’re dirty.” Emma’s silent on the other end of the line, and Killian waits for her to speak, to make another joke, to ask him if he could litter this conversation with innuendos. When she doesn’t, he decides it’s better to bite the bullet now than to drag it out. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I want to change what I was wearing to get the mail this morning,” Emma says through gritted teeth. “I don’t know how I could have been so damn stupid.”

“It’s a private area. You thought you were safe. It’s understandable, love. Don’t beat yourself up about it. You were going to have to tell everyone eventually.”

“Eventually being the key word.” She whistles, and if he had to guess, she’s sitting in bed with a tub of icing in her lap and one of her favorite shows on the television. She’ll beat herself up about the icing tomorrow even if she shouldn’t. “Mary Margaret took my phone for a little while so I couldn’t check anything online. That’s why I didn’t answer you when you called earlier. It’s been…a day. I’m sorry you didn’t make it to the semi-finals.”

“Yeah, me too,” he tells her, allowing himself to wallow for a moment. “I get to come home to you sooner, though.”

“I’ve saved the tree for you to help me put up. And Mary Margaret has started on the sides for Thanksgiving. There’s going to be so much food for you to pig out on before off-season training starts.”

He can hear the smile now. Good.

“There’s nothing I’m looking forward to more. I’ve heard there’s such a thing as a dad bod, and I fully intend on getting one this holiday season.”

Emma blows air out her nose. “You and I both know that’s not true. You’re too vain for that.”

“I am devilishly handsome, aren’t I?”

“I’ll let you keep thinking that. Killian?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I’ll be fine. This entire…situation has sucked, but I’m slowly coming around to it. What happens, happens, and I’ll deal with it. If I can get through half the things I’ve gotten through, I can get through a human being growing inside of me and the world knowing about it. I think the hardest part is how bored I am. Do you have any idea what it’s like to constantly be on the move and then for it to suddenly stop?”

“No, I don’t.” He pulls a blanket over his lap to warm him. “I hope I never find out.”

“I hope you don’t either.” Emma yawns, and the corners of Killian’s lips tug up. Maybe this means she’ll try to sleep instead of staying up worrying all night. “I think I’m going to go to sleep. Or at least try.”

“Goodnight, Swan. I love you.”

“Yeah, you too.”

-/-

Killian gets two weeks off in Florida for Thanksgiving and to have a break from training. It’s lovely to do nothing if only for a moment (he would be horrible having to take the extended break like Emma) and to spend it with Emma and her family, but then it’s back to practice and tweaking his game during the off-season.

Rob and Nemo work him harder than they ever have, bemoaning him about his slow legs and his age – he’s nearly twenty-nine, which was once considered ancient in his sport – but he keeps pushing through. Hours are spent on the court and in the gym, and the rest of his days are spent with Emma, going on walks and watching TV in their house. She’s still practicing and going to the gym, even if those are modified to how they were before, and if Killian closes his eyes, it’s almost like normal.

But then, slowly, December passes, Christmas lights everywhere fading a little every day, and Killian is packing several suitcases for the month he’s going to spend in Australia. Three years ago, Australia is where it all began for them, and it’s odd to be going without Emma.

She’s made a rule that most of their conversations have to be about things other than the baby. Part of it is because Mary Margaret overloaded Emma with baby talk. It was constantly about names and clothing and what color the nursery should be painted. If it wasn’t that, it was book after book about pregnancy, hormone changes, and the many processes that happen when giving birth.

Even for Killian, who isn’t particular about medical procedures, that was too much. He loves Mary Margaret as much as Emma does, and while she’s great most of the time, it all has been a little much.

The media attention has been too.

Thus, Emma’s rules. Their lives are supposed to go on as normal with the occasional conversation about the baby, usually when it’s absolutely necessary or when it’s late at night and they’re in bed or lounging on the couch watching TV and Killian’s hand finds Emma’s ever-growing stomach.

He thinks that’s what’s so bloody difficult for him as he zips up his suitcase. He’s going to be gone for a month, and in that month, everything can and will change.

Killian is missing seeing his child grow and missing being with his girlfriend, and as much as he loves what he does, as passionate as he is about having the fucking best job in the world, he would trade it all to not have to give up so much of their lives.

Emma would never let him.

She’d slap him if she knew he was even having these thoughts.

“Do you like this jacket?” Emma asks as she shuffles through their closet next to him. “I mean, I like that it’s red, but do you think it’s too bold?”

Killian turns and looks, glancing up and down at Emma. “I like the red leather.”

Emma nods and smiles, looking at herself in the mirror and tugging the coat over her stomach. “One day again, it’ll zip up.” She rolls her eyes and then begins to take it off, but Killian stops and walks toward her, running his fingers over the lapels until she’s flush against him.

“One day,” he echoes before dipping his head to her neck and running his lips across her jaw, “but for now, I think it’s fine to not have you covered up.”

Emma cranes her neck and makes a nose he’s going to memorize and take with him all the way to Australia. “That was a horrible line. You need to be a better flirt. This isn’t working for me at all.”

His hand falls from her shoulder and slowly makes its way to her ass before he has a firm grip. She makes that noise again, and Killian smirks against her neck.

“Well,” he drawls, making his accent as thick as he can as he nibbles at her ear, “I have forty-five minutes before I have to go. What do you say I use about fifteen of those focusing on you?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Oh, absolutely. I want to take in as much of you as I can while I can.”

“Dirty,” he whispers in her ear before kissing her and walking her out of the closet and back to the bedroom.

-/-

January 2015.

ES: Good luck today, babe! Or tomorrow. I’m not really sure what time it is in Australia, but I do know I will not be awake for your match.

Killian laughs at his phone. He’s been here three weeks, and Emma still hasn’t gotten the time difference down. He figured she wouldn’t be too bad with it since she makes this trip every year, but according to David, he changed all of Emma’s clocks and she never really knows the difference after the first two days.

It’s technically yesterday afternoon back home, or at least it was when she sent this, and he texts her back, thanking her and promising to call after his practice.

He’s got the first night session match in RLA tonight for his quarterfinal match, and if that weren’t three in the morning back home, he knows Emma would be up for it.

He wouldn’t ask anyone to be awake at that ungodly hour for him.

“Have you finished your hair yet?” Ariel asks.

She’s sitting on his bed in his hotel room, has been for an hour even though he definitely did not invite her over, and he’s had to listen to her rambling about sponsorship pitches and contract negotiations and all the things he hates the entire time. So he’s spending a little extra time messing with his hair and shaving his beard. She’s used to this, of course, and probably knows the exact amount of time it’ll take him to get ready better than he does.

“Not quite, love.”

“You know you’re going to put it under a hat and get it all sweaty, right? It doesn’t matter what it looks like.”

Killian shakes his head and puts his razor down before walking out of the bathroom to peek his head over at Ariel. “Are you really that bored that you can’t find something else to do other than bother me?”

She sits up and props herself on her elbows, her red hair flowing down her back, but a small bit gets stuck in her eye. She quickly blows it off. “It’s a big match day, and you’re nervous. I’ve been sent here to keep you occupied so you can’t think about how nervous you are or how much you miss Emma or how much you want to write an entire book of poetry about how much you love her.”

“I have never said that last part,” he counters.

“But you’ve thought it, Mr. Darcy. You and your big ole heart and your obsession with your girlfriend and your baby.”

Killian chuckles and leans against the wall. He crosses his arms over his chest and arches a brow. “Am I not supposed to be in love with my girlfriend and our child?”

Ariel shrugs. “I just think that for someone who loves a woman that much, there might be a ring and a question rattling around somewhere.”

His eyes roll, and outwardly, he deals with the question with annoyance. Inwardly, his heart quickens and he thinks some things he’s been trying not to.

Some things that, well, shake him to his core and make his breathing a little more difficult than normal.

He and Emma have talked about marriage, but it’s always been brief, seemingly inconsequential. It’s something they’d consider a long way down the road, maybe when their lives are normal, when they can profess their love to each other without any professional blowbacks.

With how the game is progressing and how long players are starting to play now, and more than just the top guys, he doesn’t know when that’ll be.

Killian loves Emma. Emma loves him. They’ve both made each other better people and committed to each other and to their unborn daughter, and Killian doesn’t see that ever changing, marriage license or not.

“A,” he whispers, his fingers tapping over his bicep, “Whatever happens with us is as much up to Emma as it is to me. We like how things are now, and I can write a book of poetry on our love no matter if she is my wife or not.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just want to go to that wedding. I feel like it would be the party of a lifetime.”

“Tell you what, I’ll take you to the party of a lifetime when I win this damn tournament. We’ll go clubbing like we both don’t go to bed for ten when we can.”

Ariel winks. “You’ve got yourself a deal. Now, come on, we’ve got things to do, and you’re making us late with all your unnecessary primping.”

“Because I’m that damn good-looking and should accentuate it when I can.”

Ariel rises from the bed wand comes over to pat his shoulder. “Whatever you tell yourself to sleep that night.”

-/-

Killian runs through his practice with ease, and he feels good. He’s seeing the ball clearly, doesn’t feel any aches in his body, and though his opponent has handed Killian’s ass to him on a silver platter many times, he’s feeling good about tonight.

Until he isn’t.

It’s the second set when it happens.

Killian is up a set and has two break points to solidify a lead when he’s running down a forehand and loses his footing on the court. His ankle is the first thing to twist, and before he can think, he’s propelling forward toward the ground.

For the entirety of his life, Killian has been told not to fall on his wrists. It’s the first thing any athlete learns. Hell, it’s the first thing anyone learns, but instinct takes over him in that moment. He’s trying to keep from landing flat on his face, and so he lands on his left wrist.

His fucking left wrist, which has caused him trouble his entire career.

Now, though, as he sits on his courtside chair and the tournament medical examiner touches him, he knows this is worse than any injury he’s had in the past.

Fucking hell, he has to pull out of the tournament.

He doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to play for the rest of the season.

Shit.  

Should have fallen on his face and knocked out his teeth. He could still play with no teeth.

-/-

“It’s a fracture,” a doctor tells him that night as he sits in a hospital bed in nothing but one of those awful paper gowns. “You’ll want to consult with your physicians back in Britain, but I’d say a ten-week recovery at the least, six months at most.”

“That’s not exactly a short time span,” Killian grumbles. “You can’t give me something more exact?”

He shrugs. “I think it’ll most likely be about three months for you, but you won’t know until you start playing again. It’s more the rehab than the recovery that I would worry about.”

“Thank you, Dr. Weissman,” Rob tells the doc, dismissing him before Killian can take the piss out of the man for doing his job. Dr. Weissman nods and leaves the room, and all that’s left are Killian, Rob, and Ariel. Nemo is back at the hotel, probably watching the video of Killian ruining their season over and over again. “How are you feeling, Jones?”

“Just peachy,” he lies, flashing them his brightest smile before it falls. He pushes his hair back and yanks at the strands, pulling hard enough for it to hurt. “Fuck.”

What has he done to himself?

People are playing longer now, but what if he isn’t one of those? What if this is the injury that begins the slow deterioration of his career? The one that whittles him away from a great player to a star trying too hard to hang onto his shine?

He hates himself for even thinking that because it’s conceited and self-loathing and all the other things he’s tried not to be lately. He was the one who had to talk Emma through something similar, to tell her that the pregnancy wouldn’t be the end of her career, that one day she’d be standing at the top of the podium again with a shiny trophy in hand.

It all felt so convincing when he was telling her that.

But he’s also an asshole who can seldom take his own advice.

And what Emma is going through is much harder than what he is, so how dare he even compare the two situations?

Seriously.

Fuck.

-/-

February 2015. 

David picks him up at the airport in Florida, but it could have been a stranger and Killian wouldn’t know the difference. He’s been moping on a plane for twenty-four hours and doesn’t notice much of anything.

That is until he walks in the front door of his home and is wrapped in the tightest embrace he’s ever felt. Emma, like always, smells of vanilla and flowers, and he inhales her scent. It’s been a month without it, and he never wants to lose it again. Her hand comes into his hair, scratching down to his skull, and she pulls him as close as possible, her stomach pressed between them. She’s seven months along now, was six when he left, and the difference feels almost impossible to describe.

He tries not to think of all he’s missed, not when he’s back in her arms once more.

What a beautiful place to be.

He’s thought that his world was falling apart, that he had no control over anything, and it was one disaster after another.

As his uninjured arm run up and down Emma’s back and he continues to breathe in her scent and her warmth, he’s reminded that his world, the most important one, is more solid than it’s been since he lost Liam.

If his brother could see him in this moment, even when his mind and body are at low points, Killian would hope that Liam would be proud of Killian’s accomplishments instead of disappointed in Killian’s failures.

“I missed you,” Emma whispers against his cheek.

“I missed you, too, Swan. You have no idea how much.”

“Are you okay?”

“I will be.” His hand comes to rest in her ponytail. “I promise I will be.”

-/-

The world seems to stop for the both of them, and it’s not just because Killian spends his first week at home moping in bed, watching more TV than he has in years. Emma joins him, lounging with her legs crossed over his, basically using his body to make herself comfortable when her back is sore, and if it weren’t for food delivery services, they likely wouldn’t eat. Well, at the very least, they wouldn’t eat any proper meals. Emma’s doctor wouldn’t like that.

Killian’s doctor, on the other hand, has encouraged him to stay active but to rest his wrist. He’s not supposed to pick up a racket except to lightly hit a few forehands, and he definitely isn’t supposed to do any weight work in the gym lest he wants his arms to become horribly unbalanced.

It’s a change in lifestyle, and Killian hates it.

He obviously still hates himself because he spends a hell of a lot of time online looking at articles and tweets about the Australian Open. Half of them are about him, half are about the eventually winners, and a small sprinkling are about how Emma couldn’t defend her title because of her pregnancy.

That sends him into another spiral, and in the darkness of their bedroom, he reads article after article about how Emma Swan will never come back to the game, about how she’s ruined her career, about how if she does come back, she shouldn’t have a protected ranking because pregnancy is not an injury and does not merit any help in building back a ranking.

Absolute bullshit.

How is the WTA the largest sports organization for women and yet it has no pregnancy protections for its players?

That sets him off more than anything else, and as Killian reads article after article and tweet after tweet, and he hopes to God that Emma hasn’t spent her nights reading this like he has.

What kind of darkness has he stumbled into, and how does he get out of it?

“Get up.”

Killian groans and rolls over, burying his face in his pillow and trying to go back to the sleep he didn’t know he’d fallen into. His head is screaming at him.

“KJ, get up.” He feels Emma’s hands on him, shaking his shoulders, but he ignores her. The last thing he wants to do is open his eyes and get out of bed. “My water broke.”

He immediately flips over and sits up, staring at Emma who is standing over the bed with her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you serious? What are you doing just standing there? Have you called your doctor? It’s too soon for your water to have broken.”

Her eyes roll. “My water did not break. It’s noon, and you’re still in bed. Get up.”

“Now, that’s just cruel. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“I didn’t expect for you to be coherent enough to really listen.” Emma sits down on the edge of the bed and leans in to kiss his cheek and brush his hair back. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Now I’m never going to believe you if you tell me your water has broken.”

Emma shrugs. “Next time I say it, I promise I will mean it.” Her hands wander down his side, moving over his collarbones and through tufts of hair on his chest. She’s always fond of doing that. “Look, I get the moping and the internet doom scrolling. I’ve been through that, and I support you doing whatever you need to do.”

“I feel like there’s a but coming.”

“But,” Emma continues, “this baby girl is coming in two months, possibly less, and I don’t know if you’ve looked in the nursery since you got home, but it’s all boxes and disassembled furniture.”

“You didn’t get to all that while I was gone?” She yanks on his hair, and he grits his teeth to keep from yelping. “Only teasing, love.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t get to it. All of this baby stuff freaks me out and after putting together one railing for the crib and having a hormonal meltdown because I didn’t want it to be my fault if the crib fell apart while she was sleeping in it, I stopped. Figured it’d be better if you were here.”

“So that it’d be my fault if the crib fell apart?”

“Exactly.” She tilts her head toward the bedroom door. “I made you coffee, so get your ass out of bed and lend me a hand.”

He raises his broken, wrapped up wrist. “Was that pun intended?”

“Believe it or not, no.” She leans in to kiss his cheek once more. “I’m not going to kick you while you’re down.”

“You’re just going to kick me out of bed.”

“Exactly.”

His legs slowly drag him out of bed and to the kitchen, where he takes the pain medication he’s allowed to take, downs some water, and drinks his coffee. It’ll be awhile before the caffeine and medication kick in, so he tries to blink himself awake to get rid of the sleepiness and the pain.

It doesn’t work.

He does, however.

Emma’s been up for awhile and has moved all the boxes in the nursery into their own sections. It’s just as chaotic as it was before, but it at least looks a little more put together. Killian settles down in front of the crib, reads through the instructions, and he starts piecing things together while Emma works on the dresser. She flits around the room, helping him when he needs it, and as much as he’d like to say they finish quickly, they don’t. It takes them all morning just to do those two pieces of furniture and for him to fix the roller on the glider, and he’s exhausted.

Maybe he can convince Emma to take a nap with him later.

After he exercises. He has to move a little today. His body hasn’t been this stiff on a non-tournament day in ages.

Okay, so maybe nap first, then exercise. That sounds like a better plan.

“What the bloody hell is this doing in here?” Killian asks. He bends down and picks up Emma’s gold medal, dangling it on his arm, which is a much safer space than the floor under a stack of books where it was.

“Oh, yeah,” Emma hums, “Mary Margaret wanted me to display that in here.”

“Why?”

“Well, she wanted me to put some of my trophies in here, but I said that was weird and probably a little dangerous. But then she suggested we do, like, this little wall collage of some things about us for her. That’s the achievement I’m proudest of, at least professionally, and I figured it would be kind of badass for my kid to know her mom was an Olympian.”

“Is,” Killian corrects while he walks toward Emma and tucks some strands of hair behind her ear. “Her mom is an Olympian. Present tense.”

Emma shakes her head and looks away, eyelids covering those beautiful green eyes of hers. “Was. I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to competition, Killian. I’ve been reading what exactly my body is going to go through, which, big mistake by the way, and I don’t know how I’m going to get back into competition shape to work my way back up to the top. I spent most of my life conditioning my body to be an athlete. I don’t think it knows how to be a mom and an athlete.”

“You’re always going to be an Olympian and an athlete,” he promises, meaning every word, “and it’s not going to be easy getting back. The cards are fucking stacked against you. But if there’s anyone who can persevere through hardship, it’s you. And me and the babe will be right here with you.”

“Except you’ll probably be back on tour traveling again. Hopefully your wrist will be healed soon, way before she comes.”

Killian leans forward and dips his head down to rest his forehead against Emma’s. “I’m staying with the two of you for as long as I can. Can’t get rid of me that easily, Swan. You’re stuck with me for life.”

“That isn’t as appealing sounding as you think it is.”

Killian tilts his head back with laughter before kissing Emma’s temple. He still hasn’t brushed his teeth this morning and has some major coffee breath. He’s surprised she hasn’t kicked him out of the house yet. She surely will if he attempts to kiss her.

“Let’s install these shelves and then go take a nap, yeah? Get rid of all our fears for a little while with sleeping. Maybe we’ll even go for a walk tonight since the neighborhood is now extra secure.”

“Sounds like a plan, KJ. Oh,” Emma gasps, moving away from him and reaching into a basket to pull out an old book. “I meant to tell you this, but I was shopping for books online and I found one from when I was a kid. I used to read it in the foster system, and I don’t know, it would bring me comfort. I thought maybe it would be a good name for her.”

She hands him the book, and he looks over the cover, reading the words written in large print.

“Olivia,” he whispers, sounding out the name on his tongue. “Olivia Swan-Jones.”

He can’t wait to meet her.

And he can’t wait for her to see what a badass her mom is, and how Emma is definitely going to stand at the top of that podium again.

Hopefully he is too.

-/-

-/-

tag list: @capthamm​ @qualitycoffeethings​ @klynn-stormz​ @scarletslippers​ @jrob64​ @snowbellewells​ @therealstartraveller776​ @thejollyroger-writer​ @sherifemma​ @galaxyzxstark​ @galadriel26​ @idristardis​ @karenfrommisthaven​ @teamhook​ @spartanguard​ @searchingwardrobes​ @jamif​ @shireness-says​ @ultimiflos​ @nikkiemms @onepunintendid​ @bluewildcatfanatic​ @superchocovian​ @killianswannn​ @carpedzem​ @captainkillianswanjones​ @mayquita​ @marrtinski​ @mayquita​ @mariakov81​ @jennjenn615​ @onceuponaprincessworld​ @a-faekindagirl​ @scientificapricot​ @xellewoods​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @stahlop​ @kmomof4​ @tiganasummertree​ @singersdd​ @tornadoamy​ @cluttermind​ @lfh1226-linda @itsfabianadocarmo​ @iam2307​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​ @kktabjones​ @jonesfandomfanatic​ @ouatxxxxx​

[mgg-theprettiestboy]

cross my heart (pt.3)

spencer reid x oc

cross my heart masterlist

word count: 1103

“Pretty boy’s got his head in the clouds.” Spencer snapped out of his daydream to find the source of the teasing sing-son voice. As suspected, it had come from Derek, who had a grin plastered on his face, “thinking about someone, huh Reid?”

“I’m thinking about the case,” he said, standing from his chair to go over to the poster board and pin another crime scene photo up.

“Uh huh, sure. C’mon, man, you know you can tell me anything,” Derek said, leaning back against the table covered in files and watching Spencer take a step back to view the whole pin board, his tongue darting out over his lips before he spoke, “there must be a key component of the profile that we’re missing, or we’re wrong about.”

He sighed, “okay kid, you don't wanna talk about it, that’s fine. But you know I’m always here if you do. So, what do you think we messed up? Maybe the gender?”

Spencer glanced to his friend, giving him an small appreciative smile before getting back to work.

-

“I’m glad you’ve found a nerd friend.”

Raye rolled her eyes, setting another mug down for Tamara to dry. This was one of those nights when The Hideout was completely empty. They usually had at least three or four people in at this unreasonable hour, but for once, there was a quiet period in the cafe.

“Thanks. And he’s not a nerd. Well, maybe a little. He’s a literature nerd, that’s for sure,” Raye said, and Tamara scoffed, “says the one with a degree in the subject.”

“I mean, yeah, I am. That’s besides the point,” Raye dismissed, picking up another dish to clean, “my point is, that I need to pick a new book to give him. It’s my turn to recommend something to him, and I can’t think of anything. Head empty, no thoughts.”

Tam rolled her eyes at her friend, “oh come on, suggest one of the classics. Tell him to read fuckin’ Hamlet.”

“No, Tam! Shakespeare is boring when you’re forced to read it. I need something that’ll impress him, something that he probably hasn’t already read,” she said with a frown. Tamara sighed dramatically, “dude, I don't know! I’m a faker, okay? I talk a big talk, and I own this cafe with the books and shit, but I haven't read like any of them. They bore me. I just like the whole academia aesthetic.”

Raye snorted a laugh, washing the final dish before drying off her hands, “I get it. I like it too. I guess I’ll just go to the library and see if any inspiration strikes me. It opens in a couple of hours.”

Tamara gave her friend a look, before glancing back down to her hands. She didn't want to make her concern for her friend so obvious, because she knew that her concerns would just be dismissed. But Tamara couldn't ignore the nagging feeling, that things just weren't right. “How are you doing? With everything?”

Raye inhaled sharply, “I’m fine. Don't talk about it.”

“I just think that maybe we should, G,” she said, before raising her hands in defence at the look she got, “sorry, I’m sorry, I keep forgetting.”

“Spencer heard you call me G that day we met. I told him it was a nickname for my middle name,” Raye mumbled, and Tamara raised a brow, “well, technically not a lie. Because it’s Giselle, right?”

“Right,” she nodded slowly, and Tamara sighed softly. The bags under her eyes were becoming more prominent every day, and they both knew it. Tamara pushed away the obvious concern, and took her attention back to their most urgent problem, “just recommend something you liked reading. That’s what he wants, right? To find out what you like, and read it?”

“I guess so, yeah,” Raye said softly, picking at her nails, “I just wanna impress him, I guess. I doubt he’ll enjoy Narnia as much as me.”

Tamara giggled, shaking her head, “you might be surprised. Doctor Reid is full of surprises, trust me.”

“Doctor?” Raye tilted her head, “i didn’t know he was a doctor.”

“Yeah, he’s got a handful of PHDs. I think one of ‘em is in math, can’t remember the rest,” Tamara said, as if it was the most casual thing in the world. Raye sat in silence, before shaking her head, “what can’t he do?”

“Probably cook. Or do laundry. With men, there’s always a downside, trust me. Glad I never have to get with another straight guys,” Tamara said, and Raye gave her a look, “you’re bi.”

“Yes, and? Doesn’t mean I’m gonna be running after any more fuckin’ straight dudes, no sir. Me and Ollie are very happy,” Tamara said, and Raye furrowed her brows, “I thought you guys were fighting.”

“We were. She found it odd that I suddenly had this friend from high school called Raye who I never mentioned before, and now spend so much time with.”

Raye felt guilt tug at her heart frowning, “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, G- I mean, Raye. We kissed and made up. I think Ollie just got a little jealous that I had another woman in my life. You know I was always more friendly with the guys. I just never really had friends that were girls. And I never mentioned you, cause we went our separate ways after high school,” Tamara reasoned, hopping up to sit on the counter opposite where Raye stood. She just sighed, “I am sorry, though. I just barrelled into your life and now look at the consequences.”

“Shut up, you’re always welcome here. This is your home now. Where were you before this?” Tamara queried, watching as Raye sat on the counter opposite her. She took a deep breath, looking around the empty shop before answering, “California. LA, to be specific. I didn't really like it there. I liked Louisiana, everyone was so nice. Hated Florida. And Texas.”

“How many years has it been... since you’ve seen your mom?” Tamara asked cautiously, knowing it was a sore spot. But since she was slowly getting her to open up, she figured there was no harm in trying to ask. Raye flinched slightly, before murmuring, “it’s been six years.”

Tamara felt her heart hurt a little. She couldn't imagine a life without her parents, “I’m sorry. I can't imagine how hard it is. But you know, the way you're living... its not gonna be like this forever.”

Raye nodded in agreement, but deep down, they both knew that she might be wrong.

-

NEXT CHAPTER

a short, but important chapter ;)

comment and tell me what you guys think! I have so many ideas for this fic, so feedback is always appreciated!

also i was considering maybe making this a reader fic rather than an oc fic? again idk so comment or send asks if you want :)

taglist: @slutforthegubes @pinkdiamond1016 @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @fallinallinmendes @beyonces-breastmilk @spencerlikesapplejuice @pastathighs @gcblers @hushfakebitches @ijustcomeheretoread @thelovelyrose @187-reid @madison-malfoy @averyhotchner @haylaansmi