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cookiesupplier · 8 months ago

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A Friend Down In Hell - Part Twenty

pairing: Nick Folio x ofc (Ishtar)

warnings/tropes: slow burn, pining, idiot in love, language, drinking, mentions of violence, mentions of torture, mentions of religious mythology.

summary: Folio can't quite tell you how long he's been dead, but it doesn't matter when he has friends like his, and Ishtar. Ishtar, with whom he fell in love the moment he met her. The problem? She doesn't know it. How does he convince a demon, who is practically immortal, to date him when he's dead? How did Ellie do it so easily?

author’s note: Unbetaed.. Enjoy! You want a background scene, a moment you thought got lost in the shuffle? Feel free to message or inbox me.. it may or may not make my outtakes eventually :P

To read from the beginning: A Friend Down In Hell Masterlist

And for those that missed Noah & Ellie's Story previously, all Hell-Verse stories will be included here: Combined Hell-Verse Masterlist

tags: @spicywhenspeaking @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @lyschko666 @bngurngheart @lacktoesandtoddlerants @sorrowsofsilence @collapsedglasshouses @vinyardmauro @dsireland86 @4rtificialfolio @emmmm127 @badomensls @agravemisstake @sunsshinesunny @blackveilomens @jilliemiw86

Tag lists are open, please let me know if you'd like to be added to this story, the Hell-Verse as a whole, or Everything

She was never going to forgive him.

That was all Folio could think about when he headed home from the bar like she told him to. Told him to go home, and she’d talk to him tomorrow. When tomorrow though, tomorrow morning, tomorrow after work, when? His mind was reeling, and he couldn’t stop as he pulled his bike into his space at is apartment building on autopilot. Shit, he’d fucked up so bad, but he had just wanted to help Kera, he should have just stopped him without putting his hands on him, so stupid. He knew better, he knew better, he was Ishtar’s boss! Well, one of her bosses. As much as he’d been wanting to knock his teeth in for donkey years now, he knew better than to try, and now look at what he’d done.

He had just gone and made Ishtar’s life even worse! Dammit.

Pacing around in his apartment, he just kept going over every moment of what happened in the bar. From the way he was treating Kera, to the way he’d shoved Folio when he’d pulled him off of her, and hell, even pulled a knife on him! What kind of idiot carried a tiny ass little knife in Hell? The way he’d handled it, he didn’t even know how to use the damn thing. Folio pulled the blade from his pocket, staring down at it in his hand, flicking out the blade from the handle, and then pushing it back. It had been so long since he’d held something like it in the palm of his hand, and yet it was almost like it was yesterday.

Just from the weight of the weapon, he could tell that it was only cheap, not that Folio was surprised. Why would someone have a fancy switch-blade in Hell? If you were going to have a good blade, you should go with a real dagger. He had seen some of the weapons that Noah could wield, and they were something wicked. This one, was obviously a cheap piece of crap, Tony, was a cheap piece of crap. He was the barest of minimum of humans in hell, and must have worked his way up in the bar by being the biggest brown noser.

“Dammit no, no I can’t just sit around here.. I can’t wait until tomorrow.”

Muttering to himself, Folio grabbed the rest of the vegetarian spaghetti bolognese he’d made for Ishtar’s dinner. Oh yea, he’d been learning, attempting to make different things. This one, well, this was one of the FEW dishes that he felt like he could make pretty well on his own for her, which was why he’d made it to take down to her at work tonight. As a surprise. Well, that had turned out to be a flop, now, hadn’t it? With the rest of it packed up in a container, he’d planned for her to be able to have easier dinners for the week all along anyway. So now he could just take them over to hers, no harm in that, and wait for her. She might get upset, but he had to explain, he had to.

Getting to her apartment, of course she wasn’t home yet, she was still at work. He didn’t care how long he’d have to wait for her to get there, he would wait as long as he had to. Now, Folio could just let himself in to her apartment with the spare key she’d given him two weeks ago, but he didn’t deserve that after how upset she’d been tonight. He wasn’t technically even supposed to be here, after all, so he should at least wait for her to get home before going in. So he set himself down on her doorstep, waiting for her.

That was exactly where Ishtar found him, sitting cross-legged with the container of food in his lap. She wasn’t pleased to see him after the night that she had had.

“Nick, what are you doing here? I said I’d see you tomorrow.”

He scrambled up from the stoop, the look of surprise in his eyes wasn’t unexpected to her, she was home earlier than she would have guessed too. She’d been sent home halfway through her shift because of what happened, with how they’d finally decided to handle it. She’d gone back inside and Tony had ranted and raved to the other manager he’d called in because he couldn’t get a hold of the owner tonight. Ishtar knew he would have tried, those two were as thick as thieves, there was a reason the man still had his job after all these years, despite how bad he was at it.

“I know, I know, but I couldn’t just leave it like this, I needed to explain, I’m so sorry, Baby, I know I fucked up, but-”

Ishtar sighed, this wasn’t a conversation for them to have in the hall outside of her apartment, where her neighbours could probably be snooping, likely be snooping. Some of them were right busy bodies sometimes.

“Come inside, we’ll talk, you could have waited inside you know, you have a key for a reason. Silly Goose.”

Unlocking her door, shaking her head, of course Nick would be silly enough to punish himself by banishing himself outside of her apartment, but still she brought him right inside without another word. Making her way into her apartment, shrugging off her jacket, she didn’t hand it up at the door, she wasn’t bothered tonight to be precise, and neat, she didn’t have the mind to care. Not after everything that happened. She didn’t even really pay attention to Nick putting something in her fridge. Ishtar would find out later it was the rest of the food that he’d brought to the bar, the food she’d not even gotten the chance to eat. The food that was still at the bar, it wouldn’t go to waste though, nothing ever did. Plenty of time homemade meals disappeared in the staff room so fast if you didn’t label them, and even if Nick had, she wasn’t there to defend it tonight.

Ishtar just dropped her jacket over the back of one of the chairs when she heard Nick come back up behind her from his detour.

“Nick-”

“Please, let me explain-”

She sighed heavily, they’d talked about Tony, they had so many times when she’d vented about him, and Nick had offered, jokingly, to kick his ass for her, because she couldn’t do it without getting in trouble. She’d always pointed out she’d get in just as much trouble if he did. Condoning him beating on her next level boss would not be good for her job, in any way. It would destroy everything she’d been working for. Turning to look towards him, gesturing with a wave of her hand, a silent continue.

“He was assaulting Kera, and I know, I know I shouldn’t have done it. I get that, I acted rashly, I know that now, but when I see a man put his hands on a woman, I have a problem with that. I tried to get him to stop, and he wouldn’t, so I hit him.”

Ishtar raised an eyebrow, she’d seen the bruise that Tony had been sporting, even an hour after the fight, it had not just looked like a simple punch.

“That’s it? You just hit him?”

“Well, I flattened him, actually. I swear, it was only one punch! The guy must have a glass jaw or something, he went down like a sack-o-potatoes! Just laid there staring up at me too, freaking little fucking coward. Wait, it doesn’t end there.” She frowned, okay, she remembered coming out to see Nick holding Tony down so that much she believed that that wasn’t all. The issue was, the fight getting worse did not bode well in Nick’s favour, as Tony going down in one punch and Nick still continuing to fight him was bad news, for both of them.

“So I turned to Kera to see if she was okay, she was, thankfully, and the next thing I know, the man is coming at me with a blade, Princess, a fucking switch-blade!. Here, I took it off of him.”

“What?!”

Nick pulled a foldable human styled pocket knife from his pocket, and she was shocked, she’d seen it before alright, it was the one that Tony carried. Thought it made him look all tough, and suave. She never in her life actually thought he’d use it, or that it was remotely even sharp. Many a time she’d seen him flick it open in front of women to try to make himself look worldly, and rugged, as if that would do either of those things.

“I was disarming him when you came out, I wasn’t about to let him walk away with a weapon after he just tried to use it on me either. I might already be dead, but I ain’t stupid. I’ve been stabbed before, these things fucking hurt babe.”

None of what she was hearing was doing anything to ease the ever-growing distress she was feeling about this entire ordeal, even knowing that Nick was dead, and couldn’t die again, didn’t make her feel any better. Swallowing, it also didn’t help her thoughts to know that Nick, her Sunshine, knew what it had been like to get stabbed, living or dead.

“By the Deities this isn’t helping me, Nick, Nicky, Baby, I am so glad you are okay, I am, but this doesn’t help me at all. They won’t care, Tony-”

“I’ll go and-”

“They fired me, Nick!”

She hadn’t wanted to tell him like this, she had planned to go into the bar tomorrow morning and demand to talk to the owner directly while he was at work. It wasn’t fair what they were doing, and the fact that Tony had had to convince the other manager that she was more trouble than she was worth because of Nick, and she was always being difficult, proved it.

Folio fell into stunned silence. He hadn’t just made her time at her job worse, he’d caused her to actually get fired. She’d lost her job because of him. Ishtar might hate working with Tony, and dealing with drunken idiots at the bar, but she loved her job. He knew she had dreams of working her way up to owning her own place one day, a bar, or maybe even better, a restaurant of her own one day, she’d told him.

Swallowing as he looked to her, neither of them saying anything for a long moment, he didn’t know what to do, what he could say… he’d ruined this for her, and he knew it. She’d have to start all over again, and she’d been working at that job longer than he’d known her. Putting up with Tony longer than he’d known her, and in one night, it was all gone.

“I, are we breaking up?”

He’d had girlfriends breaking up with him for less, him with his stupid fighting in bars. Sure, it was different, it hadn’t been a stupid drunken bar brawl with the boys that she’d had to come down to the police station to bail him out for the millionth time. It did however, feel like he’d ruined her life, and the thought of her wanting to have nothing to do with him because of it just made him want to rip out his heart.

Are we breaking up? Hearing those words coming out of Nick’s mouth almost broke her, did she really think that she cared about her job more than him?

“Oh Sunshine, babe.”

Stepping towards him, moving closer to him than she had since she got him, her hands finally touching him. She didn’t think she’d been keeping her distance, but maybe she had been. She’d needed space to cool down a bit, Nick wasn’t the only one that wanted to punch something at times, and hurting him was something she never wanted to do, even if she knew he’d heal. Case in point, broken noses from door handles.

“I love you, I love you so much. I think what you did was so stupid. Noble, but stupid.”

Knowing the kind of man Tony was, beyond stupid, there was no winning with him, getting Kera away from him yes, but starting a fight? It could only end badly, and here they were.

“But no, I love you so much, not even you being so ridiculous sometimes could make me break up with you, you silly goose.”

Leaning in to bring her lips to his in a much-needed kiss, reassuring him of all her love, every little bit of it, she never wanted to let him go, not in this life, or the next.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

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thereideffects · 4 years ago

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He was a punk, she did ballet

She was a punk, he did ballet

They both were punks

They both did ballet

They both were punks that did ballet

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existslikepristin · 3 years ago

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Activated My Trap Card

This one is VERY old. Even from before What A Bummer.

Tags: TheLounge?, CLC, Seungyeon, Yeeun, Eunbin, male reader insert, scary ladies, the most uncomfortable threesome with an audience of one, vote story

~~~~~

You stand in front of the door to Cube Entertainment's offices. You got a strange call a few days ago telling you to come to this address in order to "make a lot of money." You were worried that it might be something illegal, or a scam, but after you looked the address up you got a little excited.

And it seems like you were right to be! After a minute or two, the door opens and you see Seungyeon standing there, looking straight into your eyes. She's wearing a super low cut black tank top, a pair of jean shorts that look like they've been cut extra high for optimal showing off, and the most basic pair of black flip flops ever. She doesn't look surprised to see you.

"Yeah, there you are," she says in her deep, beautiful voice, putting her hands on her hips, "I knew you would be perfect. Come on in. I've got a job for you."

She stands aside to let you through the doorway and closes the door behind you.

Unsure of where to go, you wait for her to make the next move. She does exactly that, walking past you and letting her hand graze past your thigh on the way. That had to be an accident right?

With her back turned to you, you look down and she that her tank top is mostly backless, and her shorts reveal about half of her butt cheeks. There is so much skin on display to you right now. You make an effort not to look, but it's damn hard.

You're about to take another look when Seungyeon spins around gives you a deadly look in the eye. "So tell me... who's your CLC bias?"

Holy shit, why is she putting you on the spot all of a sudden?! She looks like she wants an answer, and fast! This really was a trap! Fuck!

Options: 1. (Picked:) Seungyeon 2. Seunghee 3. Yujin 4. Sorn 5. Yeeun 6. Elkie 7. Eunbin

~~~~~

"Y-y..." you stutter, trying to think about how fast you can turn around and open the door to run.

"Yeeun?" Seungyeon takes a step toward you. She's very, very close.

You stumble back and bump up against the door. Seungyeon follows.

"Y-you," you manage to say.

A mischievous half grin grows on her face. "Yu...jin?" She punctuates the "jin" part by pressing herself up against you. You're still nervous, but you suddenly think you know what this is about (that isn't some shit like assassinating you). She's soft but firm, like you can definitely feel the dancer muscles under her tender skin. Except for her tits, pressed against your ribs. Those are totally soft, other than two tiny points of hardness.

"Nah... you."

You feel Seungyeon's body shiver from top to bottom, and she slides one of her legs up yours, trapping you against the door just a little more. Her hands are suddenly on your shoulders.

"That's what I was hoping. I saw you a while ago. You didn't see me, but I saw a picture of me on your phone," She squeezes your shoulders a little, like she's getting needy, "Do you touch yourself when you see me?"

You gulp. You're really not sure if telling the truth about that will help your case here.

Then it's your turn to shiver, as Seungyeon licks your neck, then buries her face in it. "Tell me which one of my holes you fantasize about being inside the most."

Well, what do you say?

Options: 1. (Picked:) "I've always wanted your pussy wrapped around me." 2. "Do you think your throat can take all of me?" 3. "Spread your ass and I'll show you." 4. "Hole? But what about your tits?"

~~~~~

"I've always wanted your pussy wrapped around me."

...

Holy shit, you've never seen clothes come off a person so fast. You barely catch a glimpse of Seungyeon's nipples before they're smashed against your chest again.

"Well I want to wrap my pussy around your cock," she says, already lowering your pants, "Help me make that happen, okay?"

You're not sure how you're supposed to help, since you're pinned between the door and her paralyzing, hot body. You feel your pants dropping to the floor, taking your underwear with them. Your dick springs up and slaps Seungyeon's pussy. Of course you're already hard.

Seungyeon isn't waiting for anything. She lifts herself onto her toes, and your dick gets just enough room to be able point fully up. Your tip rests somewhere in her folds. She reaches around her back and you feel her fingers adjust you very slightly, and suddenly you feel your entire dick being engulfed by her as she drops back down.

She groans. Loud. You're very aware all of a sudden that you're having sex in the front hallway of an entertainment company's office and look around. Seungyeon grabs your chin and forces you to look into her eyes though. You see stars dancing around them, but that's probably because you're feeling light headed from the pleasure being forced onto you right now.

The look she gives you is... intense. The whole time she's moving her body just right to keep your dick inside her, despite the fact that she's so soaking wet and slippery and at such an awkward angle. She manages it well though.

"Do you like this? Hm?" She asks. You open your mouth to answer but all you get out is a moan as she squeezes your dick with her pussy. Against your stomach, you feel her abs working to make that happen. What a fucking talent!

She smiles and pulls your head down to her open mouth. You open yours too and it gets assaulted by her tongue, dancing just as wildly as her body does.

When she finally breaks away from the thing you could call a kiss, she moves her chest off of yours to let you get a really good view of her jiggling tits, shining with sweat. If you're honest, you've already seen most of them thanks to the clothes she wears, but with nothing to cover them at all they're absolutely amazing.

"I need you to... cum, alright?"

Woah, that's sudden. Does she mean inside?

"The first cum... happens fast," she pants between every couple of words. No wonder, since she's still fucking you while just on the tips of her toes, "but that's what... we need... You need to last... longer for the next round."

You definitely already feel your orgasm coming, she doesn't need to tell you that. But wait. Next round? What is she talking about?

Simple poll this time:

Choices: 1. Take charge and cum the way you want to! She didn't specifically say she needed you to cum inside her, but that's a risk you're willing to take. 2. (Picked:) Are you joking? She knows what she's doing and has a plan for MORE? Don't take charge, she'll make you cum the way she wants to!

~~~~~

No way you're risking doing something she doesn't want you to right now. Not after she mentioned a "next round."

"It's happening now!" you say through your half gritted teeth. You really hope she knows what you meant, but you're having a little trouble forming full, meaningful sentences right now.

Seungyeon gets both of her arms around you and squeezes. Her eyes lock on yours again and you're captivated. You can't look away. "Do it... then."

Her hips grind against yours, and your orgasm hits you like a runaway train. You're dizzy, but you can still notice that she's squeezing down on you. As your cum fills her up, her eyes roll up, she bites her lip, and a grin spreads across her face.

You barely register that you slump to the floor, with Seungyeon's clamping pussy bringing her down with you.

"You dumb fucking hooker."

Suddenly, your senses all come back to you. That wasn't your voice. Or Seungyeon's. Oh shit. You can't see where it came from. But you recognize it. You start to imagine yourself getting beat up by body guards, or thrown in jail, or... fuck, maybe exiled from South Korea? Is that a thing that could happen?

So, whose voice was it?

Options: 1. Seunghee 2. Yujin 3. Sorn 4. Yeeun 5. Elkie 6. (Picked:) Eunbin

~~~~~

With a semi-exhausted sigh, Seungyeon leans to the side and looks over her shoulder. You feel a sense of impending doom as you see that the voice came from the daddy long le-- er, you mean, "maknae" of CLC, Eunbin.

Eunbin is only about fifteen feet away down the hall, wearing shorts (not as short as Seungyeon's, but still revealing her full legs), a blue sweatshirt, and tennis shoes. She looks... well she looks stone-faced as normal, but you bet she's super angry, based on the tone of her voice.

"Beannie, it's all good, okay?" Seungyeon sounds annoyed. She stands up, a wet plop nearly echoing as she comes off your dick. She faces away from you. If you weren't terrified, you would be admiring the bottom view of her bare ass and pussy dripping with your cum. Actually, you just came inside her. You're suddenly even more terrified, thinking about the entertainment company lawyers that are about to sue you into oblivion.

There's a dead silence for a solid ten seconds as the leader and the maknae stare each other down. You barely have the self consciousness to cover your dick with your hands.

"Don't you want to try him out?"

You stare up at Seungyeon's back. Could she make this situation worse? Don't mock the witness!

Eunbin's deadpan glare lowers down and locks with your eyes. ShiiiiIIIIT. Her look goes a little further down, right at your hands. And she licKS HER LIPS, WHAT?

"I'm busy, ass whore. Besides, the bitch is waiting with her cunt wide open," she swears evenly, like she's discussing the mild weather. You would question what she's saying if you weren't so confused, and still light headed.

Seungyeon groans, this time with annoyance rather than with pleasure like earlier. She turns around and bends over to grab your arms and starts pulling. You have to assume she wants you to stand, so you try, but it's awkward, trying to stand without revealing your mostly softened cock. Once you're up, she yanks on your hands, flashing Eunbin. Yet, she only looks for half a second, then turns and walks through a doorway. The same one Seungyeon starts dragging you toward, all the while with your cum slowly dripping out of her onto the floor.

What the fuck is happening here?

And who's the "bitch" Eunbin is talking about?!

Options: 1. Seunghee 2. Yujin 3. Sorn 4. (Picked:) Yeeun 5. Elkie

~~~~~

As you make your way through the door, dragged by Seungyeon, Eunbin is nowhere to be seen, but there is definitely another person. You're not sure you recognize her though.

She's tied down with some soft looking rope to a cushioned table. And the ropes are all she's wearing, with the exception of a blindfold. The ropes are holding her down and holding her legs wide open, but her arms are completely free. Doesn't seem like effective bonda--

The door slams shut behind you, making you just about jump out of your skin. Eunbin was hiding behind it! She has on exactly the same expression as before, too. She must be determined to creep you the hell out.

Before you can do or say anything about that, Seungyeon grabs your chin and turns you to look at the tied up girl on the table again. "See there? That's Yeeun. She's been a very good girl until today. She's only had sex a couple times before, but last month she told us that she wants to be a little slut, so that's why you're here."

You see Yeeun biting her lower lip. Seungyeon reaches down and starts stroking your dick back to life.

"You can fuck her any way you want to, as long as it's hard, and as long as you can do it for a really, really long time. And if you can do that..."

Seungyeon drops to her knees and takes your mostly hard dick in her mouth, diving all the way to the base and quickly sucking off whatever was left from the first round. She pops back off and licks it from the bottom to the top.

"If you do that for her, I'll definitely be calling you back."

You look back and forth from the leader of CLC below you and the rapper in front of you. Should you really? This seems crazy.

"What will it be? You can take her sweet pussy all the way to the moon and back, but she's not on the same prodigious birth control I am,"

You mentally breathe a sigh of relief at that, but also wonder what the hell qualifies a birth control as "prodigious."

"If you're afraid of putting a baby in her though, we already pre-lubed her pretty little ass. It hasn't been used before, but you should glide righ-"

DEAR LORD, Eunbin's ever-expressionless face appears right in front of yours, out of nowhere, "Or you can face fuck her. I've been dildoing this stupid thot's dumb mouth for days to get her ready for your fatass penis, if you have the balls," she says, nearly monotone. You're seriously confused by her rude behavior here and suspect she might be hiding a torture room somewhere in this building.

From the table, you hear Yeeun. You may not be at a good angle to see her, but it's definitely her. You'd recognize that sweet, meek voice anywhere, "I'm ready... please fuck me?"

Holy damn. This is really happening isn't it?

Options: 1. (Picked:) Take that risk! Pussy time! 2. Well, if her ass is already lubed... 3. Don't risk Eunbin crushing your skull. Throat fuck Yeeun. 4. Why is titfucking still not an option?! Lol, jk, we all love her boobs, but she's not big enough for that. 5. Run the fuck away! These bitches are actually insane!

~~~~~

You take a deep breath. This is just plain insanity that you are witnessing before your eyes.

Insanity is contagious, apparently.

You step around Seungyeon, and stand over Yeeun. She's at just the right height, and your dick rests on her pelvis, between her legs. You hear a short gasp of excitement from her... and two more behind you, which is definitely still weird.

You back up a few inches, bend your knees just a bit, and move forward again. Yeeun is a bit small, so it takes some pushing, but you can see the anticipation building on her face (what isn't covered by the blindfold). With a thrust, you're in.

Yeeun sighs and a smile crosses her face. Seems you made a good choice. She's going to like this.

"Woohoo! Now make her a slut!"

Again, you nearly forgot about your audience. Seungyeon moves to stand right next to you, one hand on Yeeun's inner thigh and the other one squeezing your ass cheek. Yay, fun...

For hours, you pound Yeeun into the table. Seungyeon stays with you the whole time, climbing on top of Yeeun, sliding herself all over you, and licking... pretty much everywhere.

A couple of times you have to change things up, untying Yeeun and flipping her onto her stomach, re-angling her so you can hold yourself up mostly by your arms, and eventually scooting her to where her head hangs off the table while you kneel over her.

You cum at least four times, but it's hard to be sure, since you think you went basically numb after the first three hours.

Yeeun seems to have lost her mind around that same time. Her blindfold fell off at some point while you were fucking her from behind and now you can see that her eyes have become unfocused. Every time you pull out to adjust after the second hour, she whined and tried to get you back in. But anything coming out of her mouth eventually turned into needy moans.

You kind of wonder to yourself how realistic it is to have lasted so long, for Yeeun to have actually gone half comatose, or for this process to have "turned her into a slut," but hey, it was bliss for you.

Seungyeon gets on her knees between you and cleans off your exhausted cock (and the area around it) with her tongue. It's a little sore actually, but you're not about to complain.

She stands back up and wraps her arms under yours, pulling you in. "I think you were successful, baby. Yeeun is going to want so much more from now on. Let's hope the baby you definitely put in her doesn't slow her down."

Oh. Right.

"So, what's next? Want any kind of... reward before you go?"

With her hips slowly rubbing side to side against yours, it's pretty obvious what she means, but hey, she asked, so...

Options: 1. (Picked:) You're drained, but you'll try for Seungyeon! Even if it results in embarrassment! 2. You want more, but you don't think you can get it up anymore. Be smooth and give her your contact info. 3. Uh, yeah. The call you got said you were going to get paid money for this. That's a reward. 4. Maybe just something to drink? You're fucking exhausted! (Warning, this option is mad kink territory.)

~~~~~

With your cock just about ready to fall off, you aren't sure how well this will work, but you're willing to try for Seungyeon. You grab her by the hips. A smirk crosses her face, and she doubles down on grinding against you.

You lift her chin up for a kiss. It's your turn to take charge with her now. She coos into your mouth. Her fingernails lightly scrape either side of your spine, sending tingles all up and down your body. Her entire behavior just changed! Sheesh, and all you had to do was take the initiative in grabbing her? This girl changes her mind as fast as she takes her clothes off.

The sweetness continues for the better part of ten minutes. You could swear the room's temperature is evening back out, from the sun-like heat earlier to being very pleasantly warm.

Seungyeon slowly breaks away from the kiss, looking into your eyes with less intensity and more... care. She leans her head back, and you take the hint, diving in and sucking carefully at her neck. Her silent shuddering is only interrupted by a moan coming from behind you.

You can guess what it is, but curiosity gets you to turn enough to look. And of course, it's Eunbin. She's still staring, which is still creepy. But she's also got both hands moving inside her shorts. She's probably been there all along, so you guess she can stay and keep watching. You doubt she'd leave even if you asked...

Trying not to think too much about your audience, you get back to work on Seungyeon, kissing her tanned skin from her chin, to her chest, to her toned as hell stomach, to her clit. Once there, her knees shake, so you decide to set her down somewhere she won't fall. It's time to pay her back for all the oral service she's been giving you!

Seungyeon backs up at your touch, until she leans back against the table in the middle of the room, and onto Yeeun's half conscious body. The skinny girl groans as she's suddenly used as a back rest, but Seungyeon doesn't seem to have any interest in fixing the problem.

This is your moment. You're going to make Seungyeon squirm on top of her rapper. You'll make her explode! You start leaning down, tongue halfway hanging out of your mouth...

"Damn, you're still not hard?"

She's holding you back by the forehead, looking between your bodies down at your lifeless dick.

"W-well, yeah, I mean, I just..." you gesture down at Yeeun. That's where your hardness went, and it's still dripping out of her at a moderate pace!

Eunbin's hands are on your shoulders, pulling you away from Seungyeon. It's a bit of a shock, to say the least.

"I'll call you later! Buh-bye!"

The next thirty seconds are a blur. You're dragged, stunned, out of the room, through to the opposite end of the hallway you came in from, and shoved out a door into an alley.

"See ya, fuckface," is the last thing you hear from Eunbin before the door slams behind you.

What the hell...

The door reopens, and you spin around just in time to get a face full of your pants.

"Don't forget your stupid clothes, you degenerate," Eunbin throws you one last insult before the door closes again.

It's a little chilly out here.

[GAME OVER]

#clc smut #kpop smut #seungyeon #yeeun #eunbin #male reader insert

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themarcspector-hasmovedblogs · 2 years ago

Text

wip tagging

tagged by: @multiverse-of-themind (thanks! 🥳)

tagging: @gothamrains / @bondgirl / @deathlessfable/ @thelittlestspider / @theaisstillhere/ @fayelistic / and anyone else who wants to show something they’re working on.

note: okay i was on babysitting duty and i couldn't post. but i was doing a noir thang for moo//n kn//ight, but this isn't it -- but it is mk because brain go brrr. i have had a bit of a block lately but here's sooomeething i wrote for fun not too long ago. don't know if it makes sense but i had fun writing it and re-reading it. it's actually longer. but i just kept the first bit.

tw: post-fight but especially post-stabbing imagery, canon typical violence. they're not doing violence & he didn't hurt her. jsyk

notes: ft cloud & jake l*ckley. he and cloud got a funny little acquaintanceship going on.

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

Humanity is all about being wounded, right?

Being wounded emotionally by those you love, when they’re supposed to avoid causing you pain.

Then, there's being physically wounded, by the knife that she just yanked out of her side like an idiot.

Or rather — she would be an idiot if she knew she would bleed to death, but the thing is, she’s not going to bleed to death. She’s going to live because that’s what she does all the damn time – live and learn. Die. Live. Die. Live. A cycle.

Letting go of her bloody side, she fumbles with the screen of her phone with bloody fingers smudging the glass. She can’t read the name of her driver, but she doesn't care. Her side is numbing, her mouth tastes like a penny, and she feels like the world is spinning.

Humanity is also about eating shit, too, right?

Because, before her driver gets there, she nose-dives onto the side of her face, with a vibrating ache, against a brick wall and just stays there a bit -- reflecting on the pain and the cold.

When the vehicle pulls up, she rolls her eyes so hard she mumbles, “I’d rather bleed to death over and over than deal with this right now,�� in Spanish, before she finally gets down into a kneeling position, where she’s against the wall.

“It's no surprise that every time I see you, the pile of shit you dig yourself into, gets deeper and deeper,” the man who’s her friend, but not exactly says, getting to the point. He isn’t being mean, he's trying to make a joke he knows she’d find funny because every time they meet: she is bleeding out, in someone else’s grasp, or straight up running from a bigger threat than anticipated. “You know, it’s also not wise to put your full name out on the driver app when you're looking roughed up like that, right? Who knows who'll find you?"

Which, once she thinks about, is a dumb move considering her situation.

“Are you here to rub my poor decision-making in my face or to drive me to my destination?” she reacts, before rolling a broken wrist back into shape and place as it pops into healing, face still near the wall. “But — No --- actually, Jake. I’m here to visit family. I was even on my best behavior when someone tried to MuRdeR ME." Claudia expresses, not looking at him, face against the wall a little after she tries to fix the other hand and it pops back instead; throbbing...and now stinging. Both things she'd usually ignore, but today can't seem to ignore for some fuck-all reason.

Jake clicks his tongue and thinks. Doesn’t reply to half of what she’s said but it’s apparent he’s taken it in. “I’ll get you to where you need to go.” He then leans down to face her, as she continues to lean against the wall. “I’d ask who would want to kill you but, eh,” he bends his head, and tilts his hand side to side, showing it’s obvious it's a fair amount of people.

She’s about to laugh at his honesty and at his face because it doubles from her impact from hitting the wall and the blood loss, but she lets out a groan of agony instead. “I know, I know. The list is loooong.” She mumbles, the taste in her mouth getting worse.

He moves her away from the wall, and she flops down, letting out a yelp. "Careful, lady,” he replies, hoisting her up by her side to help her walk. “You sure you don't have any idea who did this?” The words are said a little more sternly than his other words, but he's calm.

"No, but they got me so good, I can feel the pain from it, and I'm curious if they can kill me permanently, too, soo...that's exciting." Her head lolls to the side, the pain's still loud, and the outside spins. Jake spins, too. But she does a thumbs up and gives him a bloody-teeth smile to show she's fine, even though she's not.

Humanity is about seeing.... little cartoon birds...over your head?

She’s pretty sure she sees little cartoon birds go over her head, which isn’t exactly weird -- all things considered. But whatever, as she walks, she ends up losing influence over her limbs and when she does, she sees black and falls over.

#ficstufff*#nosconcepttag*#me: c x j #sometimes cloud .....gets got and she makes dumb ass decisions #and therefore she needs to be poked fun of #or she simply will not learn #if there are mistakes i'm dumb of ass too tbh xD

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sickficsies-and-whumpsies · 4 years ago

Note

OOOOH GOD I JUST HAD A NEW IDEA.

If you can do both, I will be very happy.

So...

Nanami has a fever, he overworked himself during the last fight, and he is bound in his bed, trying to recover. He keeps dreaming of Gojo while he shifts from sleep to reality and feels like he is there with him but doesn't know if it's true. He has lots of delusions and hallucinations regarding Gojo breaking his heart and feels like he is slowly burning alive.

Also, I have to add this, if you are able to describe him as tiddies out, you would save my life. I thirst for Dilfs in pain.

“I THIRST FOR DILFs IN PAIN” HAD ME WHEEZING, HELP- oh man, I hope I put Nanamin through enough pain with this one, I did my best to depict his disorientation :D Have fun, I hope this is enough f*cked up!! All I want to say is... Sorry.

(TW in the tags)

///

The blurred digits danced across the tiny screen, forcing Nanami to squeeze his chestnut-brown eyes painfully. It read 40,1°C, or so he supposed. His fever-addled brain, while aware that he was, in fact, feverish, wasn’t quite in control of the body, eyes failing him.

The blond sighed, resigned, and moved to sit up on the bed with a pitiful groan. As soon as his torso was perpendicular to the mattress, a wave of dizziness made him flop back onto the firm yet comfortable surface, head spinning in a violent, overwhelming manner.

Nanami wanted nothing more than to reach for his phone, located on the neatly-arranged night stand, next to a book and a half empty glass of water. Just an arm-length away, maybe less, and yet, the man hadn’t enough strength in him to move that much. His limbs felt heavy, bones lined with lead, head filled with grey fog, eyesight faltering.

“I jus’ need… to call in…” he murmured, not quite sure if he’d said that out-loud, either. The effort of turning his head to look at the phone left him breathless, disoriented; shaky fingers reached for it, barely a couple of centimeters above the mattress. Beads of sweat dripped down Nanami’s pasty face and he grit his teeth, summoning every last ounce of power left in him.

If I could just warn someone, I would be fine. I just need to sweat this off. But I have to let Satoru know, or he’ll come bursting in here soon, and get himself sick. I don’t want that to happen, taking care of him is annoying. He is annoying when he’s sick. He is always annoying. I just need to let him know I’m fine. I just need to tell him not to come. I just一

He blinked his eyes open, startled. When had he closed them?

Nanami allowed his vision to focus, albeit slowly and not entirely efficiently either, and noticed how his arm was stretched out toward the night stand, not quite touching it due to his slightly bent elbow. It just laid there, motionless, fingers barely twitching, not obeying his command.

The sorcerer inhaled a shallow, rasped breath, trying to coax his body into cooperating to reach that damned phone.

He didn’t need Gojou to come, he needed him not to. He wouldn’t have come anyway, Nanami thought. He never did.

The sky-eyed man wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t a bad boyfriend, Nanami knew it, he’d repeated that to himself so many times, too many times, trying to carve it into his brain, to learn it by heart. Gojou wasn’t a bad boyfriend.

He was simply… a not conventional one.

More than once, Nanami had to remind him about their dates. More than once, he had to hint that his birthday was coming up, or that he’d asked him for a favour of any sorts一 not that he’d do that, Nanami was capable of doing everything on his own.

Maybe that’s why Gojou had never bothered to offer his help. Maybe it was out of admiration and reverence in regard of Nanami’s skills一 as a sorcerer and as a civilian, too一 that he’d never offered his help, nor helped unless strictly necessary.

Nanami forced himself to shake his head, aware that he was dozing off again, thoughts swirling in his pounding, boiling brain. No, he needed to get the phone first, he needed to inform that he wouldn’t come, and that he… maybe, he could use some help.

Gojou’s.

But he won’t come! he thought, bitter. He won’t come on his own. It’s not like him, he won’t come here, he won’t notice. I’m glad. He doesn’t need to worry, I’m fine. I’m happy that he’s not going to come, he doesn’t need to. I can handle a little cold. I don’t need to worry him. Not that he would. But it’s a good thing, because he一

A faint knock echoed through the neat apartment. Nanami opened his eyes一he’d closed them again, hadn’t he?一 and tried to pinpoint the source of the noise, curious. Certainly, something must have fallen from the table, maybe a spoon he’d left out of place.

“Spoons don’t sound like knocking when they fall, Nanamin~” someone purred from outside the door. Someone that Nanami knew, certainly. Someone that wasn’t supposed to be there, or rather, someone that he didn’t think was ever going to come.

“S-Satoru?” he croaked, weak. He wished that his technique allowed him to move objects with his mind, willing to unlock the door without, however, having the necessary strength to get up and walk the way to it. That would have meant crossing the bedroom, reaching the tiny corridor, walking through it and up to the genkan. He would have had to sit on the step at the entrance, slip his shoes on to walk the tiny distance between the wooden floor and the door, not wanting to soil his slippers.

Speaking of slippers, he didn’t know where he’d left them. He’d come home around midnight, after an extenuating fight. Nanami had wrapped everything up rather slowly, and once it was over, he barely waited for the EMTs to check him over before he gave up and walked the way home, in the freezing weather.

The walk home, and the time from when he reached the doorstep to when he flopped on the bed, were a blur of flashes and thumping noises, voices and phones ringing, people yelling一 he’d left the TV on, he didn’t know how he allowed himself to make that mistake.

He, who would always reprimand Gojou for forgetting to turn the lights off, for not cleaning the bathroom mirror after he’d brushed his teeth, for leaving the spoon in the plate when he reheated food in the microwave. Nanami would always tell him off, tired of how careless Gojou acted, tired of how the other man seemed to have mistaken him for his personal butler, tired of一

“Nanamin, my poor Nanamin.” Gojou said, running a hand through the blond’s sweaty hair, letting his fingers cradle the mane and massage the scalp delicately, “All sick and lonely, my little Nanamin~”

“You shouldn’t一” Nanami was caught off guard, wheezing as a painful dry coughed escaped his mouth and scraped his throat. Teary eyes glanced at the bottle on the dresser just a few meters away.

The mattress lifted and then dipped again.

Nanami grabbed the glass of water that Gojou had filled for him, and drank greedily, letting the cold liquid soothe the agony, feeling the fog thin out in the slightest.

“You shouldn't have come.” he finished, “You’re going to get sick too. You aren’t even wearing a mask, everyone knows that it’s necessary to protect yourself when you visit someone sick, Satoru.” he scolded, thin eyebrows furrowed on his damp forehead.

“You’re always so cold with me, Nanamin! Your lovely boyfriend came all the way here to watch you suffer, and you treat him like that? Cruel.” the white-haired man hummed, laying next to Nanami, not quite touching him. Truth is, he didn’t even seem to be willing to reach for the man.

Ah, Nanami reasoned, Infinity. Nothing gets through.

“I could deactivate it, Nanamin. The Infinity, you know, I could deactivate it and touch you. You want that, don’t you?” he teased, blinking at the ill man.

“Y-you don’t have to.”

Gojou laughed in that way that made his enemies’ skin crawl, so hollow yet light. Carefree, intimidating for just how genuinely amused he sounded.

“Oh, I wouldn't think about it, Nanamin.” he said, “It’s bad enough that you’re out of commission, we can’t have both of us out of the games.”

Nanami swallowed the dryness in his throat to no avail, averting his gaze just in the slightest, just enough to have that annoying, mocking grin out of his sight. “Good.”

“But you want me to touch you, right? You want me to care for you, you want to feel my breath on your skin, to bite into it with my teeth and let them sink in your neck, don’t you, Nanamin?” he whispered. Had he not activated the Infinity, Nanami would have been able to feel the ticklish warmth of Gojou’s breath on his ear, surely.

“It wouldn't be wise, since I’m sick.” he hummed, still not looking at Gojou. He couldn’t bear it.

Nanami couldn’t stand that cocky, teasing bastard, he couldn’t stand his malicious threats and offerings that he was then going to deny, he couldn’t stand the way Gojou referred to him and to himself, as if they were on widely different levels, as if Nanami was supposed, no, bound to do something to earn his boyfriend’s kindness.

“Go home, I’ll be fine.” he rasped out.

Leave. Please, leave.

Was he going to cry? The fever was playing atrocious tricks on his mind and body, so Nanamin paid no mind to the sudden stinging sensation in his eyes, he didn’t care about his twitching chin and shaking hands.

“I know you will. I don’t need you to tell me you’ll be fine.” Gojou hummed, matter-of-factly, sounding almost offended at Nanami’s implication. Nanami himself really didn’t know what it was, though.

Was Gojou annoyed because Nanami had implied that someone like him could get worried? Or, was he mad because Nanami had implied that he was enough to make Gojou, of all people, worry?

Both, probably.

“Then leave.” he hissed, heart hammering in his chest, head throbbing in the heat.

“I will.”

“Good.”

Gojou sat up, before a sweaty hand grabbed at his wrist, causing the man to cock a white eyebrow in what Nanami hoped wasn’t annoyance nor anger. Yet, he could tell it was.

“Do you even care?” he breathed out, eyes watery only because of the fever. “About me. Do- do you care? Did you ever...?”

The taller sorcerer grinned, features softening. “Of course I do, Nanamin. You’re one of the strongest sorcerers out there, how could I not care?” he purred, grabbing Nanami’s trembling jaw with his strong fingers, gaze penetrating.

Not reassuring in the slightest, either.

Nanami felt his face heat up, façade crumbling as hot tears welled at the corner of his blurry eyes. “Not- not as a sorcerer, Satoru!! Do you... care about me?”

The grip tightened, Gojou’s short nails leaving faint indents in his boyfriend’s cheeks, “Care how, Nanamin? What do you mean by care, what does care mean to you?” he grinned, shortening the distance between their faces, noses almost brushing against each other’s.

“Y-you’re hurting me,” Nanami breathed out, faint, “Let go of m一”

“Say, Nanamin,” Gojou’s fingers dug deeper, grin growing wider, colder, “is it love you’re looking for? Is it what you’re asking me?”

The blond brought a shaky hand up, trying to pry Gojou’s hand away to no avail, too weakened by the debilitating fever, too shocked to act efficiently.

“Is it, Nanamin?”

“Y-yes.” he hiccupped, dry, voice barely above a whisper, his words whimpered and fragmented, “Do you love me? H-have you ever loved me?”

Gojou chuckled, licking his lips, “Of course I did, Nanamin. Of course. You’re so pretty, so strong… I would have been a fool not to love you, don’t you think?”

He did not let go.

“Do I not show you enough love, Nanamin? Do you not think I love you? Do you believe that I’m a bad boyfriend, Nanamin?” he asked.

Something in his tone wasn’t quite right. It sounded unfamiliar, having lost its arrogant edges, replaced with something that the blond couldn’t identify yet. And it creeped him out.

“N-no.” the ill one gulped, “It’s… S-sometimes, you don’t- I don’t think th-that you care. I, I feel like you don’t.” Nanami confessed, trembling.

“So you think I’m lying?” Gojou inquired.

“No!! I’m not- it’s not that.”

“I think it is.”

Nanami shook his head vehemently, squeezing his eyes shut. He forced himself into a sitting position, willing the dizzy spell away, swallowing the bile that scratched the back of his tongue, ignoring how his shirt and bedsheets were soaked, ignoring the stale air in his room.

“P-please, Satoru, don’t一!!”

“It’s getting late, Nanamin.” Gojou sighed, clapping his hands once as he got up and stretched his legs, ignoring his boyfriend’s pleading look, ignoring his watery gaze and wet cheeks, ignoring the hand that feebly attempted to reach for his, uselessly.

“A-are you leaving me?” he sobbed, not caring about the snot that dripped down his fine nose, not caring about how pathetic and helpless he sounded. It was the fever.

“Is it not what you wanted me to do, Nanamin?” Gojou asked, hands deep in his pockets.

His eyes, clearer than the sky, bore a sour shade of regret, a glint of annoyance that Nanami prayed wasn’t addressed to him. Those eyes that looked down at him, on him, pissed.

“Y-yes, no, I don’t- I didn’t mean it l-like that, I meant一 please, wait, I’m not一”

“Goodbye, Nanamin.” Gojou muttered, headed for the door. He knocked Nanami’s glasses off the low dresser they were on, unconcerned, not bothering to pick them up.

The ill man faintly heard the door click in the distance again. Unfocused, bleary eyes scanned the room, because he couldn’t be gone, he couldn’t have left him like that, Nanami couldn’t believe that he did.

His gaze dropped to the floor, neat, untouched, glasses still placed on the dresser, the bottle still full of crystal-clear water.

Nanami could only breathe out a desperate whimper, a prayer for Gojou to come, for him to stop being so distant in every sense of the term. He wished and prayed, and fell into a restless slumber, plagued with other nightmares and suspected premonitions.

3/20/2021

#fever tw #hallucinating tw #no manga spoilers #hurt/no comfort #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #angst #jjk fanfiction #nanami kento #gojou satoru #sick nanami kento #sick nanamin #nanamin #gojou x nanamin #what's their ship name?#my fic #sickfic #jjk sickfic #+2.2k words

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hatterstan-shameblog · 3 years ago

Note

For the headcanon thing

I think Hatter likes to watch bad movies. Like the really bad ones. The ones that make you roll your eyes/laugh/cry at every single thing about it, doesn't matter if it's plot or acting. But you know what he loves more than watching those awful movies alone?

Watching them with someone else.

"hey, Mori, wanna watch a movie?"

"...no."

"c'mon, you'll like this one."

"no, I won't."

"...no, you won't. But I will enjoy your presence. C'mon bro, do it for the sake of bonding time."

"*sigh* fine..."

(inspired by real life events)

💕 Sleepover 💕

Rating: PG13 for language and alcohol consumption

Relationship: Takeru (Hatter)/Aguni

Tags: banter, friendly insults, Just Guys Being Dudes, drinking, swearing, love confessions (sort of), They Talk A Big Game But The Love Is There

Bangbangbangbangbang!

“Mori!”

Bangbangbangbangbang!

“Moooooori, let me iiiiiiiiiin!”

Clunk!

Click!

Creeeeeeaaaaaak!

Aguni opens his apartment door, wincing at the slap of summer heat that greets him as he does.

“C’mon man,” an overheated and impatient Takeru implores, “it’s miserable out here!”

“You bring me samosas,” Aguni asks, crossing his arms across his chest, “Because I’m not letting you in without my samosas.”

Takeru’s face twists into a look of shocked indignation.

“Would you really leave me—your best friend on this beautiful green Earth—to swelter and die on your doorstep in this blazing summer heat…all because I forgot the samosas?”

Aguni considers.

“No. I’d ask you to swelter and die in the parking lot. Neighbors’ll kick up a fuss if you block the stairwell.”

“Well it’s a good thing I got two orders this time,” Takeru shakes the bag enticingly, “so we don’t even have to share.”

“Someone’s splashing out,” Aguni murmurs, taking the bag from Takeru’s outstretched hand and standing aside so the man can enter his home, “Don’t suppose there’s a reason for all this…”

“Maybe I just wanted to be nice,” Takeru says flippantly, toeing off his shoes, “a little ‘thank you’ for welcoming me into your home.”

Aguni carries the bag of food over to his coffee table and sets it down, being careful not to disturb the place settings he had so thoughtfully arranged. Two plates, two spoons, two glasses of water—all neatly placed in the center of his new, sage-green placemats.

Hopefully nobody spills curry on them.

“You brought one of your weird movies again, didn’t you?”

Takeru rolls his eyes. Shoving his arm into his messenger bag, he rummages around its contents for a moment before yanking a dark, thin rectangle and holding it up for Aguni to examine.

“The 1977 horror classic, House,” he explains with an edge of exasperation, “is a critically-acclaimed work of art that has been inspiring both film fanatics and the average man for nearly half a century.”

“Straight from the back of the box,” Aguni mumbles, opening the stapled-shut paper bag and peeking at the containers inside, “Anyways, I thought you didn’t like scary movies.”

Takeru scoffs.

“Not sure what gave you that idea,” Takeru says, shoving his feet into his slippers—yes, his slippers, black velvet with red-and-gold dragons embroidered on the front because ‘I’m here enough to warrant my own damn slippers’ and ‘these are fucking awesome,’ “We saw Hereditary in the theater!”

“And you were scared the whole time,” Aguni points out, gingerly lifting their food out of the bag and arranging the containers on their respective plates, “You had to sleep with the lights on for a week. Screwed up your cat’s sleep schedule and everything.”

Takeru swans his way over to Aguni’s refrigerator and opens it, more or less sticking his whole head inside to examine its (admittedly meager) offerings.

“It’s not my fault that Ziggy is such a smart, beautiful boy who knows what ‘lights out’ means. And besides,” Takeru says while examining the bottle of white wine Aguni had put in to chill, “I’ll be staying here tonight, so it won’t be an issue.”

“So the cat gets to sleep, but I don’t?”

“You, my dear, get a evening of my company, complete with scintillating conversation, cultural enrichment, and—as we have already established—your very own order of samosas,” Takeru calls out from the kitchen, rummaging for a suitable pair of wine glasses, “And besides, I plan on sleeping deeply and comfortably knowing that any and all monsters would no doubt eat you first, giving me ample opportunity to flee the scene…”

Aguni lifts the lid off his curry, admiring the rich yellow hue and inhaling its bold spices. There are even a few extra chilis lying on top, which is a lovely surprise.

Takeru arrives at the table, glasses in one hand and wine in the other. He gives the spread a discerning once-over and then a nod of apparent approval.

“Anyways,” Takeru says, twisting off the top of the wine bottle (not without giving Aguni a look of distaste as he does it), “I’m a bit disappointed in you, Mori-chan. I thought you’d fight me more on this one…”

“It’s a losing battle,” Aguni concedes, sitting himself down in his usual spot and turning on the television, “I have too many brain cells and not enough patience to go through the usual theatrics.”

Takeru hands him a generously-full wine glass—not as full as his own, of course, but still more than what the average person might pour.

“This’ll help the brain cell problem,” he says with an over-enthusiastic smile, “probably the patience, too. Wine makes you sentimental.”

“Hmph.”

“See? It’s already working.”

“Yeah, well,” Aguni grumbles, taking a small sip of his beverage, “better get the movie started before I change my mind.”

Takeru begins his usual indignant grumbling as he fumbles with the DVD player. Aguni could help him, but, frankly, it’s entertaining to watch his friend struggle with the simple electronic setup.

When Takeru manages to get the tray open, he gives a small cheer of victory. Aguni stifles a smirk.

Hopefully the movie is this much fun.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

“Mori. Hey, Mori-chan.”

Aguni rolls his eyes, and then himself onto his side to face Takeru.

“What,” he grumbles, squinting in the dark as he tries to make out the other mans’ shape, “piano thing still got you upset?”

“It ate her fingers, Mori,” Takeru whisper-shouts, “and then it got the rest of her too! That’s enough to upset anyone!”

“It wasn’t even that scary,” Aguni mentions, shimmying his shoulders in order to find a more comfortable spot on his futon, “besides, you don’t even play piano, so you don’t have to worry.”

Takeru is silent for a moment—a blessed, beautiful moment.

“I guess you’re right,” he says after his brief contemplation, “but that’s not the only thing on my mind.”

“I’m guessing ‘sleep’ isn’t one of ‘em?”

Takeru scoffs. There’s a shuffling and fluttering sound from his neighboring futon as he turns to face his disgruntled companion.

“In due time,” Takeru says, “what plagues me now is more of a philosophical question.”

Aguni sighs.

“Remember the part where that guy got turned into a pile of bananas?”

“Yeah,” Aguni responds, “that was weird.”

“What if that happened to me,” Takeru asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “would I turn into a pile of bananas, or would I be a different kind of fruit?”

Oh, you’re different alright, Aguni thinks to himself, but he knows better than to say that out loud. Takeru’s using his ‘this is going to keep me up all night unless you give me a good answer’ voice, so Aguni starts thinking about how best to answer.

“I think you’d be melons,” Takeru concludes, “yeah…definitely melons.”

“Because of my round head and lack of hair?”

“No,” Takeru snaps, “well, that wasn’t my original thinking.”

Aguni subtly checks his phone—half-past one o’clock in the morning, too late to send Takeru home on a train to ask his cat these burning questions instead of him.

“Why,” Aguni asks, “do you think I’d be melons?”

“Well, like you, melons are strong and tough on the outside. Make a nice thud sound when you smack ‘em.”

“So do I,” Aguni mentions, “if you get the right spot. But I also hit back, so that’s not very melon-y, is it?”

“Hm. I suppose not. But,” Takeru says, “where you really start to resemble the melon is on the inside.”

“Inside, huh?”

“Yeah,” Takeru considers for a moment, “underneath all that tough rind, melons are soft. Sweet, too. Nothing fancy, they’re not trying to prove anything, they’re just…good. Like you.”

Aguni hadn’t been expecting something so…sentimental. It’s a touching departure from their usual quips and playful jabs, and it makes something warm and kind of familiar bubble up in Aguni’s heart.

“And also,” Takeru tacks on, “they’re green. And green is your favorite color! So it’s perfect.”

“I think you’d be a strawberry,” Aguni says after a beat.

“A strawberry? You mean only one?”

“Only one,” Aguni confirms, “but one of those fancy designer ones, the kind they grow in those hydroponic farms and sell in department stores for thousands of yen.”

“I heard about a guy who got murdered at one of those places,” Takeru says, “some yakuza guy who was selling weed on the side, someone put a hit out on him and used the body for fertilizer.”

“That’s…disturbing,” Aguni replies, “but that’s beside the point. Don’t you want to know why I think you’d be a single strawberry?”

“Is it because they’re red?”

“Sort of,” Aguni says, “Got a lot of seeds, too. Get stuck in your teeth pretty easily, if you’re not careful.”

“I am rather tenacious.”

“You are.”

Aguni considers his next words carefully. His relationship with Takeru is…complicated, and uncertain, and if anyone ever asked him what they ‘are’ he wouldn’t know how to answer.

“Strawberries are sweet. They’re sour, too. You’d know the flavor anywhere. And you…”

He pauses. Takeru, for once, doesn’t try to fill the silence with his own voice.

“…Well, those designer strawberries are all one-of-a-kind, just like you. So that’s why there’s one one,” he says slowly, “and I like strawberries. Might even, uh…love ‘em.”

“Oh, Mori…”

Something flops onto Aguni’s blanket—once, twice, and ah, it’s Takeru’s hand, and he’s looking for something. Aguni slips his arm from under the covers and covers Takeru’s hand with his own. This is apparently what Takeru had been searching for, because he pulls Aguni’s hand closer to himself.

“You know,” Takeru says, “now that you mention it, I think I might love melon, too.”

Aguni feels lips against the back of his hand—a soft kiss, gentle, a reassurance as much as an act of affection—and he’s glad for the dark of night that hides the blush of his cheeks.

“I feel better now,” Takeru announces, giving Aguni’s hand a light squeeze, “In fact, I think I’m falling asleep as we speak…”

“Hmm,” Aguni hums in agreement.

He’s still holding Takeru’s hand, and Takeru, his—neither seem too keen on letting go, at least, not for now.

#alice in borderland #hatter #danma takeru #alice in borderland netflix #imawa no kuni no alice #imawa no kuni no arisu #writings and such #aguni morizono #hatter/aguni #I didn’t go with ‘bad’ movie per se but like…..if you’ve seen it you know #‘house’ is a FUN movie and I like it very much #I tried not to spoil too much in case you wanna watch it yourself!!!#we need more of them being cute together

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octothorpetopus · 4 years ago

Note

spence and derek are together and the team doesn't know but then one of then gets mad bc they are tired of hiding, so angst w happy/fluffy ending

Give A Little Bit (Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid)

After six months of dating in secret, Spencer is ready to tell their friends. Derek isn’t quite so sure.

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this one, especially Derek’s introspection towards the end. I hope you like this!

Tags: @thebostonreaper @criminalminds-world @agenthotchner @rxseinbloom @cha0ticbisexual @starsandsupernovae

“Coffee. Now.” Derek paused in the doorway to the round table room. “Uh, please.” Emily looked up from where she stood by the coffee machine, arching her eyebrows.

“You look awful.”

“I feel awful.” He slumped into his chair, accepting the styrofoam cup gratefully when she offered it to him. “God, why does no one remind me not to drink too much?”

“You’re a grown-ass adult, Morgan. At this point, if you’re hungover on a work day, that’s on you.”

“Yeah, that’s not helpful. Coffee is helpful.” He chugged the entire cup in one go, wincing at the bitter taste.

“Man, what did you do last night?” He shrugged, and the rest of the team filed in. Spencer sat down next to him, his eyes curious.

“I went out.”

“Hot date?” Derek smirked.

“I guess you could say that. We were clubbing for awhile, then went back to my place for a nightcap, things got out of hand, and now…” As if to prove his point, he knocked his sunglasses over his eyes, blocking out the brilliant overhead fluorescent light.

“Wait, wait, wait. This is the fifth night in like, two weeks you’ve had a date. Derek Morgan, do you have a girlfriend?” He laughed easily, but shifted in his seat.

“Come on, Em, I-“

“Who is she? Come on, tell me.”

“You don’t know her.” Spencer cleared his throat, smiling flatly.

“Hey, guys?” He gestured to the front of the room, where Penelope was waiting patiently.

“If you guys would please stop flirting, I’d like to start the briefing.” Sheepishly, Derek waved a hand.

“My bad. Proceed.”

“Thank you. Now, if you’ll look at your tablets, you’ll see- oh, god, I didn’t mean to look at that…”

It was a local case, and as it turned out not one that they could be helpful in, so Derek went home to his little house in Arlington, flopped down on his sofa with his German shepherd’s head in his lap, and flipped on a cooking show. He was ready to doze off to Rachel Ray’s pickled onion recipe when his doorbell rang.

“I swear to god, if you’re a Jehovah’s Witness or someone trying to sell something, I will throw you into the Potomac!”

“It’s me.” Derek’s mood brightened. He raced to the door, skidding on the hardwood floors. and threw it open.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” he said, leaning against the door frame as nonchalantly as he could.

“Hi.” With the awkward sweetness Derek had grown accustomed to, Spencer leaned in to kiss him quickly, his hands wrapped tightly around the strap of his messenger bag.

“Oh, come on, you can give me more than that.” Derek seized Spencer’s face firmly in his hands and kissed him, really kissed him, long and slow and sweet and warm. The beginnings of rain floated through the air. “Come on in,” he said, holding open the door. Spencer stepped inside, but didn’t go straight to the kitchen like he almost always did (Derek always had a steady supply of baked goods from Penelope, most of which Spencer ate). Instead, he stood in the foyer, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.

“What’s up, Spencer?”

“Uh, can we sit down?”

“Yeah, sure.” They sat down in the living room, and that’s when Derek knew something was happening, something big. Spencer always sat on the floor in front of the sofa, for some reason, and despite Derek’s protests that it was bad for his back. This time, however, he sat in one of the soft but rarely used leather armchairs, his fingers tapping out a nervous rhythm on the stiff black leather.

“Spencer, baby, talk to me.” Derek absentmindedly scratched the top of Clooney’s head.

“Do you remember our first date? Like, our first real date?”

“Sure. It was about a month before Emily came back.”

“That was six months ago, Derek.”

“Yeah. Wow. Spence, what’s your point?”

“My point is that it’s been six months, or actually six months, two weeks, and four days, and we haven’t told a single member of our team.”

“...Spencer, we’d lose our jobs. We could face legal repercussions. We’re government agents.” Derek leaned back, smiling, but his stomach turned. This was more serious than he’d thought and he knew it.

“Derek, you know Hotch wouldn’t report us. Penelope and Kevin make it work. Why can’t we? Tell me, why can’t we make it work?”

“Look, I don’t want to argue about this tonight.”

“Derek.” Spencer clutched his hand, pleading. “I need to tell my friends- our friends- our family.”

“Why? Why do they need to know?” Spencer got to his feet, stammering and starting to pace.

“I don’t know, Derek, maybe because I’m sick of hearing you talk about all the girls you go out with when I know damn well that at the end of the day, I’m the one you come home to. I don’t want to have to hear you talk about your ‘girlfriend’ who doesn’t exist just so you don’t have to tell Emily. What is going on with you? I understood not wanting to tell people for the first few months, but we’re six months into this thing. Do you… do you not want to be with me?”

“Spencer, of course that’s not it.” Derek stood up and took Spencer’s hands, but Spencer ripped them away.

“Then what? Are you embarrassed of me? Of how young I am? Or is it just because I’m… odd?”

“No. Never, ever think it’s because I’m ashamed to be with you.”

“Then why?”

“I just want some damn privacy! Don’t you? We let these people into every little nook and cranny of our lives whether we want to or not, and I want- no, I need something that they don’t get a say about!”

“They don’t get a say, but I sure as hell should.”

“I’m doing this for us! I’m doing this for you, Spencer!”

“I- what?” Spencer stepped back, puzzled.

“Look at us, kid. You were a child prodigy and had three PhDs by the time you were twenty-four. And me, well… you know me. What are they going to think?”

“They’re our friends, Derek. They’re our family..

“Friends don’t always have the response you want them to. Come on, you know that.”

“So, what? You don’t want them to know about us because if they know we’re queer-” Derek flinched at the word, but Spencer didn’t seem to notice. “-then they’ll think I’m even weirder than they already think I am? I don’t care about that, and I honestly don’t really think you do either. I think this is about you. You don’t want them to view you as any less of the alpha male hypermasculine son of a bitch that you try to be.”

“Don’t you dare profile me, doctor,” Derek snarled, and even though they were the same height, Spencer seemed tiny by comparison. “You know, I thought you were different than them. I thought you were willing to give me a little privacy. Our fourth date, we made a promise not to profile each other. Ever. You just broke that promise, so I don’t think you get to tell me anything about our relationship right now.” Spencer bit his lip, still obviously angry, but he couldn’t seem to come up with anything else to say. “Why did you have to do this, Spencer? We have a good thing going, don’t we?”

“Sure. But what’s the point of a good thing if it never sees the light of day?” Before Derek could respond, both of their phones buzzed.

“New case.”

“New case.” They stared at each other for a moment.

“We should-”

“I think I’ll take my own car.” Spencer pressed his lips together until they disappeared in a thin white line, and Derek couldn’t tell if he was trying not to scream or cry. “I’ll see you there.” Without waiting for a response, he left, slamming the front door behind him and abandoning Derek, who stood quiet and helpless in the living room, Clooney whimpering at his feet. He was so tired of fighting, but something in him wouldn’t let him tell them. Something in him screamed YOU CAN’T YOU CAN’T YOU CAN’T over and over and over again, bouncing around his head like an echo in an empty cathedral. But if he didn’t, he would lose Spencer. Those two things weighed in the scales of his mind, but he pushed them aside. They had a case, and he didn’t have a choice.oice.

At some point while they were arguing, the light mist had turned into heavy rain, and by the time Derek made it into Quantico he was soaked from head to toe. He dripped water on the round table room floor. Spencer was already there when he arrived, folded into his chair, his expression not angry but sober, introspective. When Garcia started the briefing, his head snapped up, as if waking from a dream.

“Last week in Harlon, Kentucky, three former inmates from a federal penitentiary were found stabbed to death and buried in shallow graves in a park. They were found by a woman walking her dog, who used to be a K-9.”

“They were killed fairly close together, that means this unsub isn’t hesitant,” Rossi mused.

“We should be looking at other released inmates.” Hotch set his tablet down on the table.

“Victims and families of their crimes, too,” Emily added.

“Could be a corrections officer gone rog-“

“We should be looking at everyone working in the criminal justice system when they were put into prison,” Spencer said, interrupting Derek without a second thought or glance.

“Uh, yeah.” Hotch’s eyes flirted back and forth between Spencer and Derek. “We’ll do a preliminary profile on the plane. Wheels up in thirty.” Everyone stood to leave, but Hotch didn’t move. “Morgan, stay behind for a minute.” He paused halfway to the door, briefly considered making a break for it, but stayed. When he turned around to look at Hotch, Hotch was more concerned than anything else. “What’s going on with you and Reid?” Derek shrugged, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible.

“Nothing.”

“Really? He seems upset. Specifically at you.”

“I don’t know, Hotch.”

“Morgan, if there’s something going on with you two-“

“Hotch, I promise. Everything’s fine.” Hotch didn’t look as if he believed Derek, but he didn’t press the issue further.

“Fine. Grab your go bag, let’s get this show on the road.”

That was how it went. It was another short case, not a hard one either. Spencer ignored Derek, Derek let him, and the rest of the team stood by in awkward silence, unsure what was happening but not willing to say anything about it. That was how it went. At least, until the plane ride back to Washington. They sat at opposite ends, instead of curled up next to each other like they always slept, like they had always done even when they were just friends, or at least before they realized that they were anything more than that. Derek watched Spencer turn the pages of his book absentmindedly. He knew that Spencer couldn’t be reading, because it was taking him far too long. Hesitantly, quietly, he got up and crossed the plane to sit across from Spencer, who pointedly didn’t look at him. Everyone else was dead asleep, but Derek couldn’t and he could tell that Spencer couldn’t either.

“Talk to me,” he whispered, fighting the urge to reach over and squeeze Spencer’s bony knee like he always did when they were making up from a fight.

“About what?” Still, Spencer didn’t look up.

“Spencer, goddamnit, I can’t see why you’re so upset with me.”

“Really? You really can’t see it?”

“If anyone has a right to be upset, it’s me. I told you, I’m not ready.”

“And that’s exactly it. You’re thinking about how this affects you. ‘I’m not ready.’ I am. We have to make these decisions together, and you’re not even considering-“

“I don’t need to consider anything,” Derek hissed, trying to keep his voice low but failing. “I’m not ready, and it’s not fair of you to expect me to-“

“No, you know what’s not fair?” Spencer wasn’t thinking anymore, and his volume was increasing steadily. Out of the corner of his eye, Derek saw JJ start to stir. “What’s not fair is for you to expect me to not tell my friends about our six-month relationship. What’s not fair is that even though neither of us has been out with another person in those six months, you refuse to let me call you my boyfriend.”

“Keep-“ Derek’s head darted around. Everyone else was still asleep. “Keep your voice down.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep my voice down,” Spencer said, very much not keeping his voice down. “Fine. But I’m sick of you telling me that I have to pretend like everything’s normal when it’s not.” JJ was fully awake now, and Derek could see her gently shake Emily.

“Spencer, I have my reasons. But I also need a certain amount of privacy, even from you. I have things I need to work through and frankly, I need more time!”

“You’ve had six months! Six months to work through these things! What am I supposed to think, Derek?”

“Guys, I-“ Spencer waved a hand to silence Hotch, who stepped back, stunned.

“You act like I don’t get a say in this. Like your feelings and whatever the hell you’re going through only affects you. I’m tired.” Spencer bit his lip. “I’m so tired.”

“I’m tired too, kid.” They stood, just staring at each other. Derek felt the weight of everyone else’s eyes on them.

“So that’s it, huh?” Spencer asked, and in the crack in his voice was everything that wasn’t said. As angry as he was, he would not do to Derek what Derek would not do to himself.

“Yeah, kid. I think that’s it.” Derek had to lean against a seat in order to keep from falling to his knees.

“Morgan, go sit down,” Hotch said firmly.

“I’m gonna go- I-“ Derek gestured vaguely towards the bathroom and stumbled away, his breathing choked and heavy. He hardly closed the door behind him before the first sob racked his body, and he clapped a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. His shoulders heaved and tears began to surge down his cheeks, but he endured it all in as much silence as he could, curled on the floor of the BAU jet bathroom. Outside, he could hear soft, unintelligible whispering, but no one came after him. They all knew better than that, and anyway, the one person he actually wanted to see right now was the last person who would want to talk to him. He briefly considered calling his mom, or even one of his sisters, but he wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t be pushed away from the few people on this earth who knew everything about him- well, almost everything. Slowly but steadily, Derek got to his feet. His entire body felt heavy, like he was trying to walk through water. When he opened the door, everyone tried very pointedly not to look at him. He sat down across from Rossi, who flinched but didn’t look up from his magazine.

“You okay, kid?” He asked, so quietly Derek almost thought he imagined it.

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Still not looking up, Rossi pulled a magazine off the seat next to him and tossed it to Derek. It was a Newsweek from two weeks ago, but Derek still felt a surge of gratitude. Not enough to dull the sensation that his heart was quite literally breaking in two, but it was something. No one else spoke, not to Spencer, not to each other, and certainly not to him. They might not have had any idea about what was going on (if they did, they didn’t show it), but they got the idea that it didn’t involve them. Maybe it should, Derek thought to himself. But if he told them now, any of them, what was any of it for?

The little house in Arlington was the same as he’d left it, except that Clooney’s water dish had been refilled by his friend who dogsat for him whenever he was out of town. Stopping only to scratch the elderly German Shepherd behind the ears, Derek headed straight for the living room, collapsing in a heap of limbs on the sofa. He couldn’t deny that it was his fault anymore, could he? Spencer really hadn’t been asking that much, when it came down to it. Just that they could be together in public, in the eyes of their friends. Because that was what you did when you were with someone. Only they had never really been together, because Derek had always laughed it off when Spencer had asked if they were boyfriends. Why was that? Why couldn’t he get up the courage to be something with someone? Not even just someone, but someone he thought he maybe loved.

So, it was love. Then why couldn’t he ever bring himself to say those words, or any like them, out loud? It wasn’t like he had never been in a long-term relationship before. It wasn’t like he had never been someone’s boyfriend, or like he’d never said “I love you”. All the dates he’d been on, the late nights shared on this same sofa, dinners with his family, introductions to his friends passed through his head like the old-school viewmaster he had loved to play with as a kid. It took him a moment to realize why this was so different than all of those other times, and when he did, he fell off the sofa onto the floor, knocking his head against the coffee table as he tumbled down. He had been a boyfriend, he had said “I love you”, he had been out in public and met the parents and the friends before.

But he had never done it with a man.

Why it had taken him this long to figure that out, he didn’t actually know, and kind of wanted to smack himself for, but then he noticed the blood dripping from his head where he had hit the coffee table, and decided he’d probably injured himself enough for one night. While he was getting up to find the first-aid kit he kept in the hall closet, he looked back, incredulous. Sure, figuring out he liked men had been a fairly recent development, but he honestly didn’t see it as life-changing at the time. No, he hadn’t told anyone, but that was because it wasn’t anyone else’s business… right?

No. That wasn’t right.

In the dim light of the bathroom, Derek inspected his injury. It wasn’t a super deep cut, but it would take a while to heal, and he’d probably have a scar for a while. Watching his blood dilute and swirl down the drain, he remembered a specific day from his childhood he hadn’t thought about in years. He had only been twelve, maybe thirteen, and playing basketball with a few friends after school when they heard yelling from around one side of the community center. That had been the first hate crime he had ever seen- a gay kid got beat up simply for being gay. And as a Chicago cop, and an FBI agent, it was not the last. It wasn’t the last time he heard slurs tossed around like they bore no weight, casual ignorance from the coworkers in the locker room or friends on the street. If they’d known about him, would they have stayed quiet? Would they have kept their vitriol to themselves until he was gone and then let it spew, melting the world around them like acid? Or would they have done to him what they did to that kid that day at the community center? No, he was too big and too strong for that. Being big and strong was what protected him, from fists and rage, but also from prying eyes. No one ever expected that the 200 lb former linebacker and Judo black would be the one with the dirty little secret. Maybe if they did, it would be easier. Maybe if he thought it would surprise everyone less, it wouldn’t be quite so hard. When Spencer had come out to the team a few years ago, no one had seemed surprised. It wasn’t hard to see how the skinny kid with the messy hair, who’d never really had a girlfriend, who wore sweater vests and sneakers everywhere, who could carry a conversation with only his endless fount of knowledge, could be different from the rest of them. Only he wasn’t that different, was he? No, his coming out had been what sparked Derek’s journey of self-discovery, so they weren’t as different as they seemed. What he truly couldn’t endure was the surprise. He didn’t want to be seen in a different light- he was just Derek Morgan, same as always. But that was never really the case with a bomb like this. No one ever just took it without flinching, without questions that demanded answers he couldn’t give.

The scales in his mind, which up until this point had been weighted so heavily towards that one side, that side that said everything would go wrong and his life would change forever, began to tip now. Because now he was in his home office, staring at the bulletin board over his desk. His office was the one place no one else ever went in his house (his bedroom was almost his own, except the time he’d let Emily sleep in his bed after getting a little too wasted at the FBI Christmas party). But no, his office was his and his only, so that was where he kept all the reminders he needed for himself, without anyone else’s input. A signed puck from a Chicago Blackhawks game he’d gone to with his father before he died. A dried flower from the bouquet his mom had sent him when he was accepted into the FBI academy. But he wasn’t looking at those things right now, right now his eyes were fixed on the photo that had taken a prominent position front and center. If he’d been profiling himself, he would have said that the reason was that that photo had some kind of importance. It was him and Spencer, about three months earlier, at a Washington Wizards game, basketball being the only sport he could convince Spencer to go to. The picture was a close-up of the jumbotron, during the third-quarter Kiss Cam (he had paid the guy working the Kiss Cam twenty bucks for the footage). In it, Spencer was wearing one of Derek’s old Wizards jerseys, and he was still in the middle of saying something when Derek had kissed him. His wide eyes made it obvious it had been a surprise, but his smile and the hand resting on Derek’s backwards baseball cap gave him away. Derek loved that picture, that’s why he had put it on the board right where he could see it as he worked. He wanted to go back to that, to the quiet ease and the loud feelings, to blending into a world that told them they had to stand out.

The scales were tipping. On one side, there was the world. On the other, there was Spencer. Spencer, who loved brownies and foreign films. Spencer, who wore his sneakers to The Capital Grille. Spencer, who should have been jaded and cynical but still had an optimism about the world Derek couldn’t quite refute. The scales were tipping, and Derek made no effort to stop them. With every minute he stared at that picture, every minute he thought about the last six months, they tipped further and further until there was no denying that one outweighed the other. With a little resignation, a little relief, and a lot of apprehension, Derek got up, turned off the office light, and went to bed.

The round table room was dead silent when he walked in, not that anyone had been talking before he’d arrived. Rossi and JJ were watching everyone with wide, wary eyes. Emily was staring into her coffee. Garcia bit her lip, her nerves obviously getting to her. Hotch was scrolling through his tablet. Spencer sat in his chair, staring off into the near distance. His hair was more of a mess than normal, his tie was crooked, and his eyes were heavy-lidded and red, like he’d stayed up all night.

“Garcia.” Hotch nodded. “Let’s get started.”

“Okay, well-” Penelope’s voice wobbled, and she started suddenly as Derek raised his hand. “I- what?”

“Can I say something before we start?” Confused, a little freaked, she looked to Hotch for confirmation. Hotch looked equally as confused, but nodded.

“Go ahead, but try to make it quick.”

“I will.” On shaky legs, Derek stood. Everyone looked at him, their interests piqued, except Spencer, who continued staring off at some point Derek couldn’t see. “Six months ago, I met someone. Well, no. I already knew them. Six months ago, I saw someone I knew in a different light. And for the last six months, I’ve been falling head-over heels in love.”

“Derek, how come you never told me?” Penelope gently squeezed his hand. “Whoever she is, I’m sure we’d love her.” He smiled, shaking his head.

“That’s just it. You’re not going to love her, because there is no her.” Confused, the team glanced at each other, but remained silent. “He is so incredibly special to me, and I’ve wanted to scream it from the rooftops for six months, but I just… I couldn’t.” Now, for the first time, he turned to Spencer. “Spencer Reid, I love you.” Spencer’s head snapped up, his eyes wide like he’d just woken up. His mouth opened and closed a few times but he didn’t say anything. Derek wasn’t watching anyone else, but he was sure they were wearing identical looks of shock. “I’ll never be as sorry for anything else in my life as I am that I never told you that, and that I made you keep this secret for so long.” He crouched in front of Spencer, taking his hands. “I had to think. I shouldn’t have had to, I should have just let myself be with you, but I did. I’ve seen a lot, Spencer, a lot of myself and a lot of the world. And I hate to say it, but I’ve got way too much fear for my own good. But I realized that if I weigh whatever fear I have against you, it’s no contest.” He cleared his throat and straightened, facing his startled friends. “I’m bisexual. It took me a while to figure it out, and even longer to come to terms with it, but it’s who I am. Six months ago, about a month before you came back, Em, I asked Spencer to go to the movies with me. We’ve been together ever since. Last week, he asked me if we could tell you. I let my demons get the better of me. I’m not gonna do that anymore. Spencer.” He held out a big, weathered hand, pleading silently for Spencer to take it. Spencer stares up at him, clearly hesitating. But then he blinks, and whatever reservations he had disappeared. He took Derek’s hand and let himself be pulled into a hug. Derek felt his narrow, bony arms wrap around his shoulders and his head bury into the crook of his neck. “I’m so sorry,” Derek whispered, knowing the rest of the team was still watching, not really caring.

“I forgive you,” Spencer murmured.

“I love you.”

“Yeah, I got that.” Derek frowned. “Sorry. Love you too.”

“Ahem.” Hotch cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, I’m very happy for you guys, but can we finish the briefing first?” Derek and Spencer untangled their limbs, both grinning sheepishly. They sat back down, an awkward but cheery silence sweeping the room.

“Wow. Uh, okay.” Penelope wiped her eyes and Derek realized she was crying a little. So was he, just a few little happy tears in the corner of his eyes. In fact, it looked like there wasn’t a dry eye at the round table. “So, yesterday in Sacramento, one Mr. Paul Young was found in a dumpster with his hands cut off- ew.”

“Morgan. Reid. Hang on a minute.” Hotch beckoned for them to stay as the rest of the team headed to the jet. Derek winced. He’d known there would be something, but he’d hoped rather foolishly that Hotch would give them a few days. Nope.

“Hotch, listen-“

“Guys, just… hold on.” Hotch scanned them both with those dark, analytical eyes. “I won’t tell Strauss if you don’t want me to, which I’m assuming you don’t. I’m guessing you two know that this isn’t going to be easy.”

“Hotch-“

“I’m not done. You cannot have anything happen like what happened on the plane yesterday. If you do, I will tell Strauss. I’m not threatening your jobs, and even if I do tell Strauss, I will fight for you to keep your jobs. But that can never, ever happen again. Am I clear?” Derek nodded vigorously, and out of the corner of his eye saw Spencer doing the same. “Good.” Hotch remained serious for a moment, then broke out smiling. Derek couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Hotch smile so brightly. “I’m happy for you guys. Really.”

“Thanks, Hotch.” When Derek glanced over at Spencer, he was flushed bright red.

“Alright. Get your stuff, get on the jet. I’ll see you there.” He pushed between them, leaving them alone by the round table.

“I’m sorry too, you know,” Spencer said, turning to face Derek.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Neither do you, really. You needed to process things I didn’t even know you were thinking about. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like those feelings weren’t valid, or if your feelings weren’t as important as mine.”

“No. Never.” Derek took Spencer’s face in his hands and smiled, feeling the happy tears resurface. “It all worked out in the end.”

“No. Not the end. The beginning.” Slowly; hesitantly at first, Spencer leaned in and kissed him, and Derek let him, pushing back with more fervor.

“We should go,” he said quietly, breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead against Spencer’s. “Hotch’ll be pissed if we’re late.”

“Let him.” Spencer grabbed the collar of Derek’s t-shirt with one hand, the back of his head with the other, and pulled him in for another kiss. When he broke the second kiss, he held out his hand, which was soft and bony in comparison to Derek’s. Derek took his hand and let Spencer lead him out of the room. He was right, really. This wasn’t the end of a secret not worth keeping. It was the beginning of a real love story.

#criminal minds #moreid #cm fic #criminal minds fic #moreid fic #derek morgan #spencer reid #angst #criminal minds angst #cm angst #cm fan fiction #cm fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction

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redhawtriot · 5 years ago

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Problem Child (MHA Headcannons)

I work a lot with kids and teens and was literally a teenager a few months ago myself lol, so I know just how much of little shits they can be.

I always see such cute stories and headcanons with fathers and their sweet adorable children/babies, but what happens when they get older and less… adorable?

Well…

HnM💕

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💥Bakugou:

Bakugou’s teenage daughter is probably his carbon copy. The proud attitude and sassy wit would be praised and held on an adorable pedestal when she was a little girl, but when she becomes a teenager, it is not nearly as cute.

“What the hell!? Get out of my room, dad!” She would scream at her father as he barged in her room, “It’s like you never learned how to knock!”

He would instantly get triggered by her loud mouth, “It’s my damn house. I can go wherever I want, whenever I want!” he would scream before something shiny on the corner of her nightstand caught his attention, “What’s that.”

His daughter would immediately scramble to conceal the golden package, “None of your business,” she tucks it in her drawer.

“No! What the fuck was that?!” He has a slight idea of what it might be but he prays to god that he is wrong as he storms over to her dresser and rips it open.

“Dad!” his fifteen year old daughter shrieks as she feebly attempts to slam the drawer back shut-- not caring at all about Bakugou’s fingers, “The fuck’s your problem?!”

Bakugou’s rigid arms would hold the drawer open as his eyes blankly stare at the horror scene in front of him, “W-what are you doing with condoms?!” His eyes are wide.

“Fucking figure it out! God!” His not-so-little girl finally slams the drawer back shut, effectively snapping him out of his daze.

He rips his furious eyes toward her direction, “YOU ARE NEVER LEAVING THIS HOUSE AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME?! GET USED TO THESE WALLS BECAUSE THEY ARE THE ONLY THING YOU’LL SEE FROM NOW ON!”

“The fuck I am!”

His significant other would have to spend the next few hours talking him down from killing every single boy his daughter had ever come into contact with.

He wouldn't be able to look his daughter in the eyes for the following days, but sooner or later he got over his anger and even eventually talked to her about more effective forms of birth control. (God was that a spectacle)

Todoroki:

Probably going to be a super passive parent, especially with his teens. He doesn't want to be overbearing and controlling like his father was.

His teens might learn to take advantage of this. I could see his kids going to him if the other parent says no to something. This would probably lead to a lot of confusion within the Todoroki household. Lol

He isn't a complete idiot though, he would get wiser to his teenager’s antics and eventually put his foot down.

Or... at least attempt too.

He would probably be a huge softy for his kids and end up giving in to them regardless.

Izuku:

He would for sure be a helicopter parent. It would be touching and adorable for him to cry when his son leaves for his first day of Elementary school, but it would be less cute when he is a whole ass teenager and he still wants to drop by his middle school to “check in on him.”

“Dude… is that your dad. Again?” one of his son’s classmates would point out to him as he gawked at the hoard of paparazzi in school’s front entrance.

“Please, god no,” Izuku’s son would cower into his arms at his desk.

However, he knew that he would have to confront his father sooner or later, “Dad! What are you doing here?”

“You left your applesauce on the kitchen counter this morning, I just thought I‘d stop by and bring it to you while I was on patrol today, son.”

Fucking applesauce!?!

The younger Midoriya would have to fight the urge to face-palm, opting for a heavy sigh instead, “I’m not five years old! I don’t need my dad to drop off snacks for me!”

The sudden outburst would slightly wound the fragile father, “Y-you’re right…” Izuku would immediately understand the new boundary and respect it, “Sorry son, I-I’ll just go then,” he would still hand the sauce over to his son.

As he turns to leave his son would feel a pulse of guilt, “Wait… Thank you… Just stop breathing down my neck so much, okay?”

“Alright!” The apology would fill the father would a sense of vigor. He would turn back around to leave on a much happier not until--

“Oh, wait!” Izuku almost forgot something! “I LOVE YOU, SON!” he shouts from across the courtyard.

Giggles from the other kids could be heard as his son ducks shamefully into himself, “L-love you too…dad...” the boy’s face falls into a deep shade of red as people stare at him.

Shinsou:

He would never mind control his children, but he would be lying if he said that it wasn’t tempting every now and then.

He would probably be the type of person that prefers smaller children to teenagers for some reason. As the feeling of being needed diminishes and his children grow more and more independent, he would begin feeling a little left out of their everyday lives.

He would for sure be the type of person that tries to hang onto his children's childhoods for as long as he can. The first time that his kids go out “without” parental supervision to like the mall or movies, or something, he would secretly tag along.

He would leave after he felt comfortable enough.

Holy shit! If he got caught though?

His kids would probably never let him hear the end of it. I feel like he would be very embarrassed because everyone would would be able to see that he did it for him and not for his kids lol.

“Awh, dad you just want us to stay little forever, don’t you?”

“I was just trying to make sure that you guys would be okay,” he would immediately retort, as if the speed of his response could cover his obvious lying.

“Apparently we weren't the ones needing to be checked up on! You okay?”

He really wasn’t okay.

Why do kids have to grow up so fast?!

Kirishima:

Will be very straight up and direct with his children. He will always tell them when they are not being their best selves.

Even though he is probably the most supportive guy in the world, his son will still probably hide things from him because his overwhelming positivity and wish to better himself and others can be.. well... a bit much.

“LET”S GO GET SOME REPS IN!” Kiri would burst into his 16 year old son’s room, but finds that he is on the phone with someone, “Who’s that on the phone?”

The boy would immediately hang up the phone and stare wide-eyes at his father, “Uhhh... grandma?” he obviously lies.

“Huh. But your grandma is in a different time zone... it’s 3 am for her...” Kirishima would bait his son to tell the truth.

Knowing that he had been caught and that there was no backing out, he would reluctantly tell the truth, “It’s... my boyfriend.”

“BOYFRIEND?! Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone, son?? Have em over tonight! I’d love to meet him! I bet he’s great! Does your mother know?! I’ll call her as soon as I can and let her know the great news--”

“No, no, no! Stop!” the young boy would frantically interrupt, “Uh, Thanks... but h-he’s not coming over, could you... get out of my room please?”

Kirishima would turn a little red at the realization that he had gone a little off of the deep end, “Oh... okay... Sorry for that,” he would nervously laugh as he backed out of the room, “I guess I did get a little ahead of myself, huh?”

“Yeah...” His son would purse his lips as the two made awkward, prolonged, eye contact.

“Okay.... Well, you want the door open or shut?”

“Shut would be fine,”

“Alright,” Kiri would begin shutting the door only to stick his head on one more time,“Love ya.” he would softly speak into the room.

“Bye...” as soon as the door is shut his son flops tiredly onto his bed.

Kaminari:

He would always be a teenage boy at heart so him and his kids would actually get a long very well—maybe too well.

He would catch his children trying to sneak out of the house and set up little boobie traps for them outside of the window they sneak out of. He would never tell his s/o about them sneaking out because, hey, if they avoided his boobie traps, they probably deserved it!

When his kids were caught they usually wouldn’t even want to go out anymore as they were typically covered in syrup, or blasted with paint-balls, or soaking wet with tomato sauce or some other random thing.

Every now and then, when his kids would successfully pass a boobie trap, however, he would up his game.

This leads to the game always evolving.

His kids respect the hell out of him, because they love him so much, but this little game they have going with him is too fun to give up!

Iida:

He had always been told that he was a bit overbearing, and would wanna correct that about himself before he had children.

Iida would be the type of father that would read up on parenting magazines, so he wouldn’t be too authoritarian and would like for his kids to make the right decisions on their own… but damn was it hard for him to just sit back and watch.

He would be walking by, when the sight of his daughter relaxing on the living room on her phone would catch his attention. She has a series of textbooks sprawled out in front of her, but is paying them no mind. “Sweetheart? Shouldn’t you be studying right now?”

“Yeah, probably. I’ll get on it in a minute…” she would absentmindedly reply as her eyes stayed glued onto her phone.

“Okay…” he would reply as he continued doing whatever it was he was doing before he got distracted; however when he passed by the living room again, he noticed that his daughter was still in the same position that he had left her in, “Ahem!”

The young girl knew well what this meant as she looked up to acknowledge Iida, “Yes, father?”

“There’s no time like the present, you know,” he reminded her.

“Thanks… I’ll remember that,” even though she knew exactly what he had been trying to imply, she looked back to her phone in a small bout of rebellion.

This would be the last straw for Iida, “I know that you are a fine student and all; however, I just think that you should—”

“FINE,” she would loudly sigh as she throws her phone to away to the couch, I’ll do my homework right now!”

“That’s my girl!”

“Of course,” she would smile back with just a hint of resentment.

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kitasfox · 3 years ago

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honestly you’re right lol I’ve been thinking it for a while now, that it’s as if everything I read in the tags is recycled. I get how you feel about seeing stuff like HCs and TWT PORN LINKS 😩 get more notes (unless you were already a big blog, then you get notes regardless). it’s disheartening and it’s ok to be angry/hurt about it. I think people are afraid to complain about the issue for fear of sounding entitled

unless you already were a big blog— there it is. no ill speak my truth I'm already fucking angry yall can cancel me if you want for saying something almost every writer has been thinking of.

you know what we think while we post?? Almost all of us poor little mortal small blogs pray a big blog sees and reblogs this so more people will see.

Because God fucking DAMN it even small asks of drink water <//3 the big blogs answer get more notes than our posts we work on.

And im not throwing shit at them at all don't fucking get me wrong. I'm throwing it at you my loves.

Nothing about the whole tags being occupied with the same shit is the writers fault btw. YOU are the ones who make them the most popular, YOU are the ones who make the writers who spend DAYS on their writings flop, YOU are the ones who make them think: fuck it. I'm doing that, too.

And then the amount of original writing drop and its again YOU who complains about it. Well fuck you.

This is exactly how a fandom dies btw.

People get bored of reading the same scenarios same characters cuz there's nothing interesting, is there?

Tell me how many times you read bakugou jealousy headcannons. And then comes another fandom and yall hop on that with the same shit— but now it's interesting because new shiny pretty characters to write the same shit!

If you can ride the wave, you grow and become the big blog that gets 5k notes on your porn links that doesn't even work with the character. If you can't,,, lmao good luck with finding recognition.

I'm close to 2k followers and I get interaction so little interaction it's kinda funny. Yea no one has to put up with my shit. Maybe I just think too high of myself yk. How dare I think any of my writing is better than the 50 exact same somno headcannons 🥺🥺 out there. Well maybe it's not better it might be the shittiest thing u ever read but let me tell you at least it's original <//3

#.ask #and its a fucking rant

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el-dibidibidorado1 · 6 years ago

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Untamed Pt.7

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x plus size MASTERLIST

A/n: sorry for the late update! I hope you guys had a wonderful Thanksgiving!!!

"Y/N?!"

Noooooo it's my day off! Pulling the blankets over my head and rolled over.

"Y/N?!" Noooooooo.

"Y/N!" Angrily I sit up and bring the blanket down. My eyes open and....... What the fuck? There is a Christmas tree in the middle of my room?! Oh my god there is a real pine tree in the middle of my room!

Slowly, I crawl out of my bed and sit In front of the tree. The smell filled my nose heavenly and the ornaments.......looked familiar. Except for this one, a turtle dove? My fingers softly touch the dove. Who put this here? All of this.

"Y/N" Mom and Ed open my door with scared and angry expressions.

"Someone broke i-" mom looked at the Christmas tree and looked back at me then back at the tree.

"Ta-ta da" I nervously say and extend my arms out.

"I don't know if I should ask how this got here?" Ed pointed at the tree.

"Good. Cause I don't know how either" they both came in and sat next to me looking at the tree. It's beautiful. Whoever placed it here is amazing. Creepy, but amazing.

"It smells amazing" all of us take a deep breath, taking in the wonderful smell. Who knows how long we sat there just looking at the tree.

"Who wants pancakes?" I asked.

"Me" Mom said touching the turtle dove

"This is new" I nod my head and take it down.

"Usually there is two. One for a friend and one to keep, but here we have one."

"Should we freak out about all of this?" Ed questioned. I feel like if I should, but I don't. Why? Why can't I freak out about this?

"Oooh these are nice!" I look at Ed playing with some sunglasses. The sunglasses! I forgot to give them to Bucky! Aw man!

"Take those off! They are a gift to someone!" I get up and take them off his huge head.

"WHO?" He asked childish, putting his hands to the side.

"Someone special" I place them in the desk.

"Well I'm going to make the pancakes, get ready we're going to grandma's" we all got up and went out separate ways. Getting my clothes ready I head to the shower. The marks are gone but now there is a scar left behind, make up will do.

With no care I put my music on and get in the shower. I have gone back to showering once a one or twice times a day and it is fine, still feel dirty, but I can't let it get to me.

I let the music take over me and begin singing while washing my hair.

~send you my love on a wire~

~lift you up every time~

~everyone oooooooooo~

The thought of someone breaking in kinda scared me, and the thought of someone placing it in my room while I was sleeping made it worst. Holy shit! I mean the tree is beautiful, but who could have put it in there it's super heavy, and so quietly too. Rosie and Caroline know that I wanted a really tree for Christmas! Them bitches will give me socks or something they dont want. They are out.

A real Christmas tree is all I wanted! But who did I also mentioned that I wanted one. Then the realization hit me like a bowling ball hitting a pin.

"BUCKY!" I yell and open my eyes making soap get in. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck that stings. I hurry and get the soap off and finish my shower in a speedy.

Quickly I dry my body and comb my hair. I should have known from the beginning that it was him. My stomach began to get butterflies as I thought about Bucky bringing a pine tree into my house quietly. He gave me a real Christmas tree for Christmas!

"Mom! I need to go somewhere can I get the car?!" I yelled running down the stairs.

"Is 12:37 we need to be at grandmas at 2" she was still making pancakes.

"I'll be back super duper fast!" She gave me her serious look. Come on, please.

"Please I need to go" I gave her my best puppy eyes. Fall for them, fall for them! She threw me the keys, happily I gave her a kiss and ran out. As i raced to Bucky's place I began trying to wrap the sunglasses. That's it! Is that all I am going to really give him! NO! I need to buy him something else! Should I just wait? Or give him the sunglasses?

"Nope! I'm waiting!" Getting out of the car I slip on ice but manage to get a hold of the car door. Getting myself together I go and knock on his door.

Knock knock knock!

I wait for 10 minutes but he doesn't answer. Ugh he's not home! I hit my head against the door. After a couple of seconds I get in the car and head straight home. What did I expect? he has family, duh. Getting home I literally flop myself on the couch.

"Where were you?" Ed asked me.

"Hukmmmmmm" my face was squished against the pillow.

"Huh?"

"I know who gave meee the tree!!!!" Shouted into the pillow. He sat next to me and put a hand on my back.

"His name is Bucky Barnes." He just hummed.

"Ed say something?"

"What do I say?"

"I dont know?! Something?!"

"Is he different?" I nod

"Is he like the other guys?" I shake my head

"Have you....you know?" I shake my head again. I lift my head and look at the destroyed artificial tree. A little chuckle escaped me thinking about Bucky just trying to get all the ornaments.

"How did you guys meet?"

"Work" I sit up trying to fix my hair. He didn't ask anything else. We ate and went to grandma's. We did the same thing over and over again, eat dinner, sit In front of the t.v. or look at the stupid fake tree, then open presents and asking where my boyfriend is, then we eat more. Same. Shit. Over. And. Over. Again.

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

"Hey Bucko" Tony sat next to me while drinking his spiked eggnog.

"Hey" he gave me one and I gladly drank it. Alcohol didn't affect Steve or I. Super solder serum.

"Ready for presents?" I nod my head and look at the tree. Damn, Tony goes all out! The thing is almost touching the ceiling.

"You know I didn't buy anything for you guys......i thought I wasn't going to come."

"Hey. Your presence is better than anything" he puts his head on my shoulder and finishes his eggnog.

"Tony what are you doing?" Nat asked amused.

"Don't ruin the moment!" Tony yelled and began digging into his pocket.

"Here take a picture. And post it on my Twitter account. Saying something nice" he put his head back on my shoulder and his hand on my chest like a couple.

"Smile honey"

"No" i deadpan.

"Come On sweetheart" I try moving away but he pulls me back down.

"COME ON. LOVE MEEEEE" I manage to get up and Tony falls to the floor getting a hold of my leg.

"3......2......1!" Nat takes the picture. She showed us the picture cracking up.

"Ohh Oh this is perfect" Tony let's me go and grabs his phone and process to upload the picture.

"Come and open presents!" Steve yells. Once we where all in the room Sam had a Santa hat while giving out the presents. Everyone got a bunch of presents! I got one but it didn't matter I felt good. Bunch of clothes and video games where scattered across the room it was amazing! It felt like home, I just missed someone.

"I know......Buck" Steve caught my attention from Peter teaching me how to use my new phone.

"Hm?" Both Steve and Tony give me a heavy box.

"This is from all of us." Tony said with a huge smile on his face. I began ripping the paper. Man, I felt so excited! I don't care if i just got two presents they ment something important. A record player!

"Look inside" clint said.

A bunch of old records that I enjoyed from the past. I got up and hugged Steve for the wonderful memory before war.

"Hey Bucko" I felt overwhelmed by the gift that a lump formed in my throat.

"There is something else Buck" I look at them and they had huge smiles.

"We might have gotten Tony to make you a mp3 player and put new music in there. It's the songs we think you might like. Some of our favorites too" Clint said as I open the small box inside the case.

"Thank you" I mumbled. I feel overwhelmed with comfort and care.

" Mr. Bucky sir are you crYING? " slowly I wipe my cheek. I guess I am. I try to hid the little tears but I guess I failed.

"I guess I am kid" I lightly chuckled and Peter gave me a bone crushing hug.

"DoN' t cRY" I...

"Peter..." can't...

"Peter........" breath..

"PeTER!!"

"Yes Mr.Stark?"

"Let him go. He can't breath!" Soon as he let go I felt myself take a large amount of air.

"Damn kid you got a strong hold" my voice came out raspy. Laughter filled the room.

---------

"Here we are Buck" Steve turned on the truck. He wanted to drive to my studio. 3 hour drive just talking and singing like old times.

"Thanks Steve and Sam"

"Yeah whatever. But next time can we hear music from this era! I wanna hear some Kanye West man!" Sam kept on blabbing and blabbing. Ignoring Sam I got out and walked to my door with my stuff.

"Hey" I whip my head to the side and see Y/n.

"Hey. What are you doing here?" I open the door and let her in first.

"Thanks. Umm I wanted to th-thank you for the tree. It's beautiful" her cheeks turned pink. "Welcome" I mumbled and placed my stuff on the bed.

"I got you something.." she gave me a Christmas bag. "It's not like your gift sadly. I wish I could give you something better" I open the bag and see the sunglasses that i wanted and a DVD movie. Dumbo.

"We can finally see the movie. If you want." She was nervous, I can tell. All I need is her presence, she made this Christmas better.

"Y/n, you watching the film with me will make my Christmas perfect"

Tags: @tnupsweetpie

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #untamed #bucky barns x reader #winter soldier #bucky x plus size reader

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left-myself-in-the-alleyway · 6 years ago

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Forever & Always

Part 3

Warning: Descriptive abuse, panic attack(s) touches lightly on drinking

To anyone who reads this: I wrote this part before I did any research on panic attacks and such so please be kind.

Thanks to @momobucketcomics for editing/co-writing this and making the mood board below.

More thanks to @devotedlybeautifulkingdom- (Tumblr won’t let me tag you!) for showing support for this story.

I felt someone rubbing my back. Someone, or something was comforting me, telling me I was safe. In the state I was in, I'm surprised I could hear it at all. I could feel the sweat trickling down my face, leaving a wet, slimy trail. I also felt myself calming down, albeit slowly.

It's okay. It's okay. I kept telling myself, desperately wanting to believe it.

I sat up straight and leaned back, still trying to fill my lungs. I could barely get enough air in them without feeling like I was suffocating.

I heard someone say my name.

"Mmhhmm...?" I mumble, my eyes still shut tight.

"Evelyn, can you please open your eyes?" I hear a voice that sounds like Tony ask, sounding... concerned?

Slowly, I comply to my so-called father's wishes.

I opened my eyes to see a sea of faces staring at me, worried expressions on their faces.

...Last time I checked, there weren't this many people in the room. Damn, I'm seeing double again.

I rubbed my eyes and took a deep breath. Finally, my head was clear enough to speak normally. "I'm sorry... overreaction." I try to cover up.

"I would like to apologize for asking you that. I didn't know you would react that badly." Thor explained. It was badly worded, but...I knew what he meant.

"It's okay. It's not your fault- I shouldn't have let my mind wander..." The last words drifted off into a mutter- I wonder if he could hear me.

"Do I have a room?" I ask quietly. I don't want to stay here for much longer.

"Yes, I um. Yeah." Tony still looked a bit freaked out about my panic attack. I hope he hasn't bitten off more than he can chew by taking me in...

"I can take her to her room, Tony." Steve offers.

"Thanks, Steve." He replied, walking away.

Steve gave me a smile. "Follow me."

Dragging my feet, I grab my backpack and duffle bag. Panic attacks are exhausting.

As soon as we leave the room, it's just the two of us. The hubbub in the last room seemed to have vanished from existence, as if nothing had happened at all. Huh, guess they have soundproofing here too.

"Are you okay?" He asked as the elevator started to move.

"Yeah. I'm fine." I say, trying to get some form of a smile to form on my face. I hate it when people worry about me- I feel like I'm just a nuisance to them.

"You know, when I first came out of the ice, I had panic attacks. Everything was really overwhelming." He admitted. "I found the best thing I could do was talk to people about what happened. War is an ugly thing. You see a lot of things you wish you hadn't."

"It sounds like...you had a hard time leaving the past in the past and embracing the future" I say quietly as we navigate the halls, a whisper being all I could muster.

"You're pretty smart for someone so young. But that is something that you should remember too. Your past may determine your future, but it doesn't have to rule it." He explains as we come to my door, his pure blue eyes boring into my hazel ones.

"If you ever need anything at all, and you can't find Tony, don't be afraid to come to me for help." He said softly. "Just ask JARVIS to take you to my apartment. It's on this floor."

I scrunch my eyebrows. Apartment? "Everyone here has half a floor, except for myself and Tony. He has a whole floor to himself. I have almost a whole floor, so that's why Tony figured it would be a good idea to put you here." He explained.

My eyes go wide. "That's right, you get a small apartment just for you." He chuckled.

I smiled to myself. Maybe this won't be so bad.

"Remember what I said." He says, walking away.

I walk into my room, exhausted. I let go of my bags, letting them land wherever. It's so clean in here, I feel a slight twinge of guilt for messing up the neatness of everything with my scruffy baggage. I look at the rustic, brown clock. Thank God it’s not some weird futuristic aesthetic design, I hate that kind of stuff . It's 6:00.

That means it's only 3:00 back home.

Home. Somehow, the word feels foreign in my mouth- like a new shoe that'll take getting used to, or... Something.

I look at my messy bags laying haphazardly on the floor. My other luggage must be downstairs, wherever Mr. Hogan put them. I'm too tired to care about anything right now. I've got so much to do, but I can't resist taking a quick nap- Then I'll unpack and check out the rest of the apartment.

I flop down on the couch. Closing my eyes, I still can't believe how much my life could change so much over the course of a few hours.

Tony trodded over to the lounge bar, searching for the drink he had left behind earlier. He chugged down the glass of alchohol. Even though it was now room-temperature, he savored it rushing down his throat. Then, without even thinking, he poured himself a glass of the strongest bottle on the shelf- Devil's Springs Vodka. He collapsed on the couch sipping his strong drink.

"No, no! Stop it!" I scream at my mother.

She had just returned from wherever it was that she went. Probably the bar, considering her words were extremely slurred. With every step she took, it was heavier than anything- like ten earthquakes simultaneously rocking my world.

She was hitting me, landing blow after blow over and over again. I wish it would stop.

I need it to stop!

I almost got away, but she latched onto my shirt and pulled me back.

"Oh, darling. You're not getting away that easily!" She laughed as she dug her long, inhumanly sharp nails into my arms. I cried out as I felt the skin start to split and bleed.

She shoved me onto the floor. Before I could be relieved at her release, my head caught the corner of the table on my way down. Pain exploded through my head, and I could feel hot blood welling up somewhere on my face. Through my blurry, spotted vision I saw her chug down another bottle of vile-smelling beer.

Then, instead of doing what I hoped she would do, she threw it at me. I screamed as it shattered on the floor, showering me in broken shards. I cried out one last time as I felt the pieces of glass embed themselves in my flesh, burning deeper and deeper inside me. As I struggled to run away, my hands slipped on the floor that was pooling with my blood and tears. It rose ever higher, fueled by my bodily fluids, threatening to flood the entire room. The salty mixture seeped into my fresh wounds, burning them black.

Before I black out, I hear her say something. Her voice was no longer slurred, but crystal clear. It was sick and twisted, familiar and yet of something nightmarish that you'd only hear in the darkest depths of hell.

"Remember, Evelyn; however far you run, no matter how hard you fight back, I will be with you. Forever... and Always." As she growled those last words, everything faded away into darkness.

I shot up out of my restless slumber, drenched in cold sweat. My heart was pounding. I quickly pulled up the sleeves of my pullover, thinking I had woken up after being knocked out. There were only fading bruises and scars. Then, I remembered where I was. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I glanced at the clock. I only slept for 45 minutes, and I'd managed to have one of the worst nightmares in history. Oh, jeez.

I started unpacking my measly possessions. Anything to get my mind off That.

Someone had brought the rest of my bags up and put them in my room. I plopped down on the pristine bedsheets, feeling myself sink down into the mattress. It felt much comfier up here than on the couch. Maybe if I'd crashed on an actual bed, I'd have been spared the horrors of that nightmare.

I hung up a few of my tops in the closet. Most of my clothing consisted of long-sleeved sweaters, which I used to wear to school to hide the marks. I also had one sundress and two maxi skirts. They were beautiful, but I couldn't remember the last time I wore them. Standing on my tiptoes, I put a few of my pants and shorts on the shelves. Some of them were messed up, but I threw them in anyway. I was never any good at folding clothes. From there, I head into the bathroom to unpack all of makeup and other... Necessities.

I wonder if there's any dishes in the cupboards. Skipping off to the mini-kitchen, I went to check. Sure enough, there was. There was also food in the fridge! Am I supposed to live by myself, completely? I wonder to myself, checking out the other contents of the various drawers. The countertops were sparkling, and even inside the compartments of the kitchen, not a jar was out of place. Just the way it will stay, clean.

I fiddled with my phone, looking for my favorite playlist. Ah, found it.

Forgettable by Project 46 filled my ears.

I absentmindedly started to hum along to the song- This soon developed into quiet singing.

The song's beautiful and uplifting melody rejuvenated me. It was like a weight was lifted off my shoulders, as I started organizing.

I adjusted a photo of me and my cat, trying to get it just right. I finally get it to sit at the right angle on the little counter beside the kitchen. As I subconsciously sung to the tune of my music, I stepped back to examine the angle of the frame. Suddenly, in between songs, I heard something behind me. It sounded kinda large- maybe mice? Huh, not if the cleaning team can help it. Really Evelyn, this is Stark towers. There won't be mice here. After ridiculing myself a bit more I turn around, thinking I might make some tea. I nearly screamed when I saw a figure in my doorway...

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