#she needs to fucking know if something's wrong!!!!!

[vanteguccir]

Hey i have a request if u have time and like ittt!!

So basically matts fucking you and chris is tired of all the noise, so he walks in to matts room casually. Proceeds to pick up ur panties from the floor and stuffs ur mouth. And sum hot idkkkkkkkk i aint a writer

Love ur fics tho girl

── ୨୧ !　SMUT BLURB

matt sturniolo x reader

where chris had had enough of your loud moans with his brother and shut you up with your panties... and you're a exhibitionist little shit

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Oh fuck- Matt-" Y/N gasped, her voice breaking with every breath.

She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus on anything but the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her veins. Her thighs - wet with her arousal - quivered uncontrollably, her toes curling against the bed as Matt thrust into her with raw, primal need.

But beneath them, Chris had had enough.

For the past thirty minutes, he had been subjected to the incessant banging of the bed against the wall and Y/N’s loud, unfiltered moans. He tried to block it out, putting a pillow over his head or playing random songs in the top volume on his headphones, but it was no use. The noise was relentless, invading every corner of his room, and his patience had finally snapped.

With a growl of frustration, Chris pushed back his blankets, stormed out of his room, and headed upstairs.

Y/N didn’t hear Chris’s footsteps approaching. Her mind too far gone in the pleasure coursing through her body. She moaned Matt’s name again, her voice loud and breathy, the sound echoing in the room as Matt quickened his pace, his own groans mixing with hers.

The door to Matt’s room suddenly burst open, and without warning, Chris strode in, his face a mask of annoyance. Y/N’s head was still buried in the mattress, her body still trembling as Matt froze mid-thrust, too shocked to react right away.

Chris, however, didn’t seem the least bit phased by the scene before him. He walked into the room far too casually, his eyes sweeping over the pair with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. His tongue slipped between his pink lips, wetting them while taking in the sight of Y/N’s completely naked form, her body bent over the bed, her fingers digging into the dark blue sheets, clutching them like a lifeline, and Matt’s shocked, wide-eyed expression.

"What the fuck, Chris?" Matt sputtered, his voice filled with disbelief as he finally reacted, trying to cover Y/N's boobs with his large hands and her ass with his own body, ignoring the loud whine that echoed from her with his movements. "Get out, man!"

But Chris ignored him. His gaze drifted down to the floor where Y/N’s discarded pink lacy panties lay. Without a word, Chris bent down, scooping it up, and then moved toward the bed. Y/N, still lost in the haze of pleasure, barely registered his presence until she felt slender fingers pressing her jaw with moderate strength, forcing her to open her mouth before something was stuffed against her tongue.

Her eyes widened in shock, muffled sounds of protest escaping her throat as she realized what had happened, her eyes meeting the blue ones that looked right back at hers.

Chris really had shoved her own panties into her mouth, effectively shutting her up. Her face burned with a mix of embarrassment and something darker, something that thrilled her in a way she hadn’t expected.

Matt, still in shock, didn’t know whether to laugh or be pissed off.

"Chris, what the hell is wrong with you?" He growled, though there was an underlying tension in his voice, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him as he searched for his brother's eyes.

Chris smirked, his gaze gleaming with mischief as he glanced between the two of them.

"If I’m going to be forced to listen to all this." He said smoothly, his voice low and teasing while his hands motioned from one to another. "The least I could do is shut her up. A guy needs his silent time, right?" He gave Y/N a pointed look, his lips curling into a smirk as he watched her squirm beneath his brother, her muffled whines filling the room with the feeling of Matt's dick moving only a bit inside her walls.

Y/N’s mind was racing, her body responding despite the embarrassment flooding her senses. The feel of her panties getting dump in saliva inside her mouth and the sheer absurdity of the situation had her heart racing in ways she hadn’t expected, causing her to press her face deeper against the mattress, trying to disappear.

Matt, however, was less amused. He shook his head, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"You’re such an asshole." He muttered, though he couldn’t deny the tension in the room had only heightened after Chris’s interruption.

Chris chuckled, clearly pleased with himself as he straightened up and turned toward the door.

"Just keep it down next time." He said over his shoulder, throwing one last smirk at them before sauntering out of the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Chris, leaving Matt and Y/N in the heavy silence of the room, Y/N's body reacted almost immediately. Despite the absurdity of what had just happened - or maybe because of it - her hips pushed back instinctively, seeking more of Matt. Her body begged for him to continue, her mind still reeling from the humiliation and thrill of being caught.

Matt's eyes widened at first, surprised by her reaction, but then a dark chuckle escaped his lips as he felt her ass press insistently against him, almost fucking herself on his dick. Her whines, now muffled, were desperate, needy. She wanted more. She needed it.

"Fuck." Matt muttered under his breath, his voice taking on a darker, more commanding tone. "You liked that, didn't you?" He murmured, bending his upper body and pressing his chest firmly against her back, his breath hot against the nape of her neck. "Getting caught like that... having him see you like this. Like the little whore you're for me, yeah?"

Y/N whimpered again, her body responding eagerly as her hips pushed back against him harder, silently begging him to keep going. Her face was still pressed deep into the sheets, her muffled whines escaping through the makeshift gag Chris had left in her mouth. She was trembling, her body aching for more.

Matt’s hands gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he laughed again, this time lower. He leaned his head, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered.

"You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you? Letting him see you so exposed and open, and now... you can’t get enough, can you?"

Y/N moaned into the fabric, her eyes rolling up her skull with his talking and the fresh memory of Chris's eyes on her, the sound vibrating against the panties in her mouth. Her body was practically begging for Matt to move, to do something, to give her the release she so desperately needed.

Matt grinned wickedly, the dark amusement still dancing in his eyes as he tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her back against him before pushing her forward again, forcing her to fuck herself on his cock.

Her thighs trembled when she felt his tip brushing only a bit against her sweet spot, and she let out another muffled whine, her hips rocking back against him again, needing him right there. The feeling of her body pressed so tightly against him, her whimpers of need muffled and helpless, only served to ignite Matt’s desire further.

"Alright." Matt murmured darkly, his tone teasing as his hand slid down, fingers brushing the curve of her ass, squeezing the flesh hard. "You want it? You’ll get it, but you have to work for it."

He pressed his other hand on her small back, forcing her to bent her upper body even more - if that was even possible, searching the control he needed. With a slow, deliberate movement, he ground his hips against hers, teasing her, dragging out the moment as she squirmed beneath him, her muffled cries growing more frantic.

"Is this what you want, baby?" He taunted, his voice a low growl as he pressed himself harder against her. "Because I can feel how fucking wet you're." He let out another dark laugh, enjoying the power he had over her in this moment. "And all it took was Chris walking in on us for you to become this needy mess."

Y/N's muffled response was a mix of whimpers and "Matt's", her body trembling as she tried to raise her ass more in the air, searching for the friction her body was begging for.

Matt's grip on her waist tightened even more, his fingers digging into her skin as he finally snapped his hips against hers hard enough to make her thighs shake and her fingers dig into the sheets.

"Alright, baby." He whispered, his tone full of lust and dominance as he positioned himself, ready to turn her into a cock drunk mess. "Let’s see how loud you can be now... even with your mouth so fucking full."

I never know how long and large I can go in a blurb 😭🤡

[jockwrites]

DIE FOR ME - p.b

warnings: sexual content (reader receiving, strap LOL) angst if you squint, cursing, pet names? i guess?

a/n: not spell checked & english isn’t my first language, lmk how i did :-)

"good God."

those were the last words you heard Paige say before she stormed out of your apartment.

previously, the two of you had been arguing over the fact that for these past two weeks, you'd been suspecting cheating.

today, the topic had been brought back up when she came to your apartment late after practice. even though she'd told you she would be there immediately after. honestly, you just couldn't understand what's been keeping her away from you so fucking late.

you wanna decide to call it a night after she just stormed the fuck out, but you need to find out what's been happening. that's when you decide to find out for yourself.

you put on a jacket over your shorts and tee, grab your keys and head out.

while walking, you decide to check her location. and what do you know, it’s off.

this pissed you cleannnn off. & with your pace becoming faster and faster with each second that passes, her dorms come into view. you don’t waste a second getting into that building.

you hurrily walk to the elevator, eager to get up to that room.

as soon as you make it, not only do you knock once, but twice. and not a single peep heard from behind that door.

as you begin to knock again, the door opens. and it’s her. you’re outraged, angry, so many words to describe your feelings as of right now.

“why the hell is your location off,” you bickered, “and why didn’t you answer the door when i knocked the first TWO times?”

paige just stood there. she didn’t say a word, and this is what made you more frustrated.

as you’re going on and on about how furious you are, paige grabs you by the arm, pulling you into the apartment. she doesn’t say a word to you.

she pushes you against the wall, kissing your neck. and this, this put you into a trance you probably wouldn’t be able to get yourself out of.

her touch becomes more aggressive as you push on her chest, trying to get her to stop. right now you’re serious. but she’s irresistible

“are you pushing me away?” paige whispers into your neck.

“so now you wanna talk..” you scoff, breathing heavy.

“there’s nothing to say. you’re just delusional. you get these petty accusations, put them onto me, then expect me to just sit there and take it.” she slides her hand dangerously low down your shorts.

“i don’t expe..” you’re cut off by her fingers sliding into you.

“i don’t understand why you wanna start shit so bad,” her words sharp, vibrating into your neck as her kisses go lower and her pace increasing. “because if you want me to be a ‘bitch’, i can.”

“you just..” she grabs your right boob, groping as her fingers curl into you while kissing your jawline, leaving hickeys that’ll probably be there for the next day or two. “you just think shit is a game. it isn’t.”

“paige.. that’s not-“ you moan breathlessly, your words cut off by her lips colliding with yours.

“no no.. i know exactly what you’re trying to do.”

you love it when she’s like this. all mad & messed up when it comes to you, damn.

“maybe we should just drop it.” you begged, the pleasure and anger she’s bringing to you becoming overstimulating. you don’t know if she’s mad or horny. maybe both.

“you’re such a fucking brat,” she jeered, “you start shit but can’t finish it.”

her fingers are now pumping faster, her other hand coming up to the side of your neck. she’s practically choking you.

arguing and sex isn’t something you thought you’d been missing out on, guess you were wrong.

“fuck. paige. im sorry, i wasn’t trying to.”

“there’s no time for apologies. you did this shit.” she huffs, pulling her fingers out of you.

she licks them clean, looking you dead in the eyes. you’re left with an unfinished orgasm and now you’re aching for her touch. all that’s left is to see what’s she gonna do next.

“go.” she tempted.

“what? where?”

“in the fucking room. go.”

you walk to the room, opening the door. you see her messy bed, clothes on the floor, shoes everywhere and her phone. the phone you’ve been eager to check.

you sit on the bed, taking off your jacket. you slip off your shoes and throw them in a random corner while waiting for paige.

she walks in the room with nothing but a sports bra and white basketball shorts. she looks good, but heated.

she starts to walk toward you slowly with that look. that look, as if you’re some kind of prey.

“you done being a brat?” she whispers.

“i wasn’t being a brat in the first fucking place,” you sassed. “you’re just crazy.”

that’s when she walks over, pushing you down onto the bed. she’s hovering over you, angry and tempted.

“you thinks it’s okay to just act like a bitch all the time? accusing me of shit you know damn well i haven’t done?” now she’s mad. you’ve pushed her to her limits.

“take them off” she snarled, her eyes roaming to your shorts.

you quickly abide, slipping off your shorts. you already know the timing she’s on.

she takes off hers as well, revealing the purple strap harnessed to her.

“what. is that.” you panted. she’s never fucked you with a strap-on before, her fingers and mouth is just enough for you.

“what do you think it is?” she’s trying to be funny but you’ve never experienced anything like this before. you’re a virgin to “dick.”

“i’ve never- done this before.” you manage to breathe out. even though it’s scary, you want it. you want it to be with her, nobody else.

“you wanna do it? we don’t have to baby.” she gazes at you softly. it’s so attractive how she can go from mean to sweet. you love it.

“yeah, but only with you.” and as soon as those words left your mouth, her eyes went from a bright blue to grey.

she pulls your panties down your legs, revealing your soaked pussy.

“so wet for me already baby,” she purred, “not like this for anybody else hmm?”

“no, never.” you breathed as paige rubbed the tip of the plastic over your wet clit.

“fuck,” she urged “you know you can be a bitch sometimes?” she slides the strap into you, going at a slow pace.

“fuck- mm, i know pai..” you can’t manage to get words out at this point. the pleasure is unbearable.

as her pace speeds up, she grabs your legs, pulling them over her shoulders & around her neck.

as she hovers over you while fucking you senseless in missionary, she pulls her right arm over to rub your clit.

“you think i’d do this with another girl? huh?” she groans.

“HOLY SHIT. paige oh my-“ you whine.

“fuck,” she says, her pace speeding up. “you think im out here fucking other bitches senseless?”

she speeds up, pounding into you with the purple plastic. she removes her hand from your clit, inserting the thumb she used between your lips.

“fuck paige! shit im gonna cum” you moan.

“answer me. you think im doing that shit?” she growls.

she starts to go faster and faster, pumping in and out of you like a mad man.

“no pai- FUCK!” you panted.

“based on those fucking accusations,” she heaved, “you seem to be pretty stuck on that fucking- fuck. stuck on that ‘cheating’ shit.” she groaned. with every second that passes, she speeds up. seems like she’s angry.

“paige. im gonna CUM. OHSHIT” you whimper. the pleasure is starting to become overwhelming.

“then cum baby.” she leans down, whispering in your ear.

paige speeds up more and more, hitting the spot that makes you release all over “her.”

“you okay baby?” she says, collapsing beside you.

“you’re good at that.” you breathed.

she turns over to look at you, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“i love you, so much. you see the shit i just did? wouldn’t be caught dead doing that to someone else. i’d die for you.”

a/n: hi im stopping here bc idk what else to write. this isn’t rlly that good so if u have requests or suggestions (constructive criticism) i’d be happy to take them! ty for reading if u even made it this far, byebye

[a-b-riddle]

check tags for warnings

In the mood to write angst. Imagine you’re the conscientious observer who accidentally sees how your team talks about you behind your back.

Your morals were… complicated. You didn’t believe in killing anyone. Your faith told you that killing someone is wrong and even if it’s to save your life, handling a gun is something that doesn’t sit well with you. You’ve been to gun ranges. Mandatory for your position in the military that you have basic fire arm knowledge. But having something in your hands that could so easily take a life made you uneasy.

You were pescatarian, but tried to limit meat. Cried anytime you saw chickens in those trucks heading toward their demise. You fed stray cats around your house back home. You tried to be kind and cherished life in all most of its forms. The exception being garlic butter shrimp that was too good to give up and anytime of bug resembling a cock roach. And yes, palmetto bugs were still cock roaches.

And wasps.

Fuck wasps.

At the same time, you were pro-choice. Initially, you were pro-choice for other women, but you didn’t think you would have the strength to get an abortion. It wasn’t until you were holding your friend’s hand as she got her D&C that your views on your own body autonomy changed. It didn’t have to be medical to be necessary.

But you still refused to hold a weapon. Which is why even though you were a very talented medic, you were always judged for not carrying any sort of defense while in the field.

But no one on base would dare say anything to you about it. At least not to your face…

You got stuck instructing a training seminar when your phone continued to buzz in your back pocket. But even with the consistent messages, you didn’t falter by showing the newest members how to give basic first aid until health could arrive.

Nearly two hours later, you finally fish your phone out to see what’s going on.

Dozens of text messages in a group chat between you, Captain Price, Johnny, Kyle and Simon. You had gotten close to them over the last few months. You were halfway through your contract and were already dreading leaving knowing they were staying behind until the job is done.

You open it, your phone taking you to the first unread message.

Cpt.: Hows the arm healing up?

Soap: Fine. Hen did a good job of keeping the sutures nice and even. Should barely scar.

Gaz: Wouldn’t have a scar if she just fucking carried.

Soap: You think she honestly would even know what to do with a gun if you gave her one Garrick 😂

Ghost: Still think she’s a liability. Someone who won’t raise arms against an enemy isn’t meant to be on the team.

Cpt: Already tried. Laswell says we need the numbers. As long as she does her job there’s nothing I can do. We can’t be down a medic and it’s either her or nothing.

You shook as you continued reading the conversation.

Liability. Coward. It went on and on about how weak you were. Why couldn’t you just carry a small pistol instead of expecting everyone else to keep you safe.

It then switched to your personality. No one should be that happy. Annoying. A yapper. Couldn’t get a word in most of the time.

On and on they went until you realized they spoke so freely because they didn’t realize you were in this group chat. What did they say when you weren’t around?

You felt like a fool having extending more than just trying to be a civil coworker, but a friend. Taking on tasks that weren’t your responsibility simply to help them.

Getting a floral arrangement delivered for Johnny’s sister after she had given birth. Talking on the phone to the nursing home where Price’s mother resided trying to sort out her insurance. Taking priority Kyle when he was injured after falling out of a plane (both times) over your other patients. And always having the electric kettled going in the morning so Simon could have his tea without waiting too long.

You were helpful. Just because you had one boundary didn’t mean their words held any merit. But still you couldn’t help the deep feeling of just… betrayal? Rejection? You weren’t sure there was a word fitting enough to sum up how utterly stupid you felt.

Maybe they were right. This wasn’t a civilian setting. This wasn’t just life and death for your patients, but for you. You were out in the field with no form of protection except from others.

You weren’t abandoning your morals. You couldn’t. Not when every fiber of your being told you to remain steadfast. There was only one solution.

You didn’t have much to pack. Uniform was issued to you. Your stethoscope and some other tools came out of your own pocket. Your laptop, phone, charges. You packed all your lounging clothes and miraculously everything fit into a military duffle. Which wasn’t actually anything impressive given how big those things are.

You were confident in your decision even if it made you feel like a failure.

As you stood outside the office door you returned back to the group chat. One by one you proceeded to block all of them. You knew when you left the group they would know that the notification would pop up and they either wouldn’t give a shit that you finally knew what the actually thought of you or they tried messaging you to make amends to cover their asses. You weren’t sure which was worse.

Once you had blocked the last one, you left and knocked on the door that you had been idling in front of. A faint ‘come in’ was granted before you walked through.

“Hey, Kate.” You greeted. “Can we talk?”

[fairytsuk1]

four seasons | (s)

apart of the meet cute: gone wrong series, click here for more!

prompt: meeting at a holiday resort, both with friends or family tagging along

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

words: 5.4k

warnings: enemies to lovers, strangers to lovers, spin the bottle, marijuana mentioned, alcohol, drunk sex, begging

It's everything you thought it'd be and more. The sun shines on you in a bright gleam that warms your skin. Your plans had finally made it out of the group chat! This was going to be the best vacation ever. Your sandals slap against the concrete as you trod to your friends with your luggage.

"Hey! Can you guys believe this? It's so beautiful!"

Ayami beams, her short hair bouncing as she nods eagerly, "I can already feel myself re-energizing! All this nature and ocean—oh, it's going to be wonderful!"

Ryoka's hand slips around her girlfriend's waist with a relaxed smile. "Hell yeah. We should go ahead and check-in."

"Already done! No need to thank me," Natsumi brags as she flings the dark oak door open, "had to do it since you guys were taking your sweet time getting out of the car!"

Your cheeks hurt from how much you're smiling. You must've done something heroic in your past life, maybe saving a war-torn city, to have this warm feeling fluttering in your chest. The resort is made better with your friend's banter and complimentary slippers that sink into plush carpet. 

An attendant explains things in a blur, yet your eyes are locked onto the glittering ripples of water that peek through a window. The pool is on the first floor, she says. And don't forget to ____, you ignore. Soon enough, all four of you are dashing to claim a spot on white resin lounge chairs. It feels like a dream when your manicured toes glisten under the hot summer air. It becomes more like a fairy tale when your wandering eyes land on something interesting.

He's hot. Scratch that; he's more than hot! Lecherous eyes start at sopping blonde hair pushed back by muscled biceps and veiny forearms. The way the water rolls down his back is absolutely sinful. Even his abs flex as he cockily smirks, pushing back against his red-headed friend during their game of roughhousing.

Not only is he easy on the eyes, but he looks like he fucks, which is the perfect maraschino cherry on top. You could bite into him, and it'd be sugary sweet as the sticky juice runs red down your jugular. Yeah, you could eat him alive and he'd love it. Confidence thrums through you, and you know your time is now. At the same time, he stands casually in the water, merely observing and completely unaware.

You slip in effortlessly and unnoticed, lurking like a shark behind him as you plan your words before making yourself known.

"Hey," you chirp, hands wading in the water.

You expect him to turn to you with a sly smile; maybe he'd grow close and lean on the pool edge as he asked for your name and whether you were single. Only he didn't do any of that. His eyes scan you like you're a drab beige wall, and then he has the nerve to shrug you off.

"Hey."

It's awkward. It's tense. It's very unexpected.

"What's your–"

"I don't need a drink right now," he dismisses with a casual wave.

It actually stuns you into silence. Your mouth drops open and then closes, and then opens again, "I-I'm not a worker! Do workers wear bikinis where you're from?"

The man sneers at your reaction and finally turns to face you. He's taller, broader, and you wish he wasn't so fine because he was turning out to be such a dick. You stand up straighter, squaring your shoulders to stare frustratedly into his eyes.

"No, but I don't bother paying attention to extras when I'm trying to relax," and lewd eyes dip down to your cleavage, "but maybe I can spare you some time."

"An extra!? Oh, fuck you!"

It comes out harshly, and your bottom lip droops as you stare at him: "I just came by to introduce myself, but never mind. I'm leaving."

"Then introduce yourself, or did I scare ya' off?"

You've never met a man so bold. A man with the audacity to call you an extra and still so obviously commit your curves to memory. Introductions come out in a stutter from you with warm cheeks, "and what's your name, so I can report your behavior with the front desk."

"It's Bakugou," he grunts. "Be my guest."

"I will," you challenge.

"How about I report you for harassment, hah?"

"You insulted me first!"

Bakugou shrugs with a smirk. It irritates you beyond belief to see his smug little face. The sun burns too bright and hot on you two, firing you up and encouraging you to storm out of the pool. Bakugou takes the opportunity to leer at your ass as you crawl out the side, wet swim skirt sticking to your curves and making him tug his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Damn," he grunts as you prissily walk off.

Perhaps he judged you too harshly. But then he thought about it, and you just seemed like a spoiled brat. A pretty one but a brat nonetheless. He didn't take things like that. He reassures himself under his breath, but his thoughts know what he's really thinking about: sliding those wet bikini bottoms off you and spreading your legs. It would be all for him, too. You did approach him first.

You, however, collect your things in a huff. Your move to the other end of the pool may have been petty, but you don't care. Things had to be thought through. Was it worth actually pursuing this sexy asshole guy? As you type a pro-con list into your phone, Ryoka pats your shoulder, "Are you planning on missing the game for your phone?"

The exercise will do you some good. After squeezing your friend's hand and promising to return after you change, you opt to release your frustrations on a good game of volleyball.

After a bit, it's even hotter and you've only gotten sexier. It's important to note as Bakugou stares at you from the sidelines. Sure, you were prissy, but your body was killer, and the snarl escaping you every time you spiked the ball sent wrecking balls of fantasy into his mind. You were a spitfire, and Bakugou tries to swallow the flush when you look at him in an intense adrenaline haze.

A block. A quick run to the side for a spike. Light cheering. This was the sweet escape you needed, giving you just enough space to let out your blood thirst. If you had fangs, then you'd be chomping at everyone's face! You were in the groove. Your eyes pass over him easily. And then you meet again.

Parted, pink lips with beads of sweat on your upper lip. Your hair falls messily, framing your face with sticky strands as your dark eyes pierce Bakugou's. For a minute, neither of you seems to exist in this reality. You both stay in this limbo for a second longer than you should before your head snaps forward to bump an incoming ball. Bakugou’s frozen to the core with genuine butterflies in his stomach. He doesn't even think this has ever happened to him before, or even that it ever would.

A whistle is blown, and you’re cheering with your team. It always felt good to win. It was even better when you knew you had eyes on you.

"Good game, good game! Yeah, you did amazing, Ayami…" You towel off as you relish in the glow of your success. It wasn't all due to you, but you were being a bit of a try-hard.

You don't even notice how Bakugou makes his way through the crowd. How his lips curl into a frown as someone bumps into him, and how he taps your shoulder with a gruff, "Hey."

Your head turns with hair that cracks like a whip. Obviously, you recognize him immediately. You're not happy.

"Hey," you mutter, toweling off and ready to escape. "Nice seeing you."

"Wait a minute," Bakugou's hand curls around your wrist, and you're so irritated to feel heat rush through you at seeing the sinewy muscle move. "Lemme talk to you."

"I gotta get in the shower. So, no."

"You're being stubborn. I'm sorry for earlier," he huffs with eyes that lack the confidence to look straight at you. "Let me buy you a soda or somethin'."

"What makes you think I want a soda from you, an extra?"

He almost wants to shout in your face, but he knows there's no way around that. Bakugou mumbles about not meaning it while kicking at the ground, and your posture stays stiff. It happens so quickly you almost miss it, but you catch a glimpse of a smile on his lips.

"What's so funny?! You're a real jerk, laughing and everything when you insulted me and–"

"You're all defensive at being called an extra. It's cute." 

"I have a name," you nearly stomp your foot in exasperation despite the flush crawling up your skin.

"I forgot. You stuttered it out last time," he provokes calmly with a tilt of his head. Really, he just wants to hear that pretty name on your lips again.

You try to tell yourself that there's no time to think about the compliment that flies and waves in the air like a kite. You introduce yourself calmly, emphasizing the syllables and ensuring he gets it.

Bakugou repeats your name so slowly. So pointedly, velvety tongue and eyes narrowing. You could imagine him whispering it into your neck as strong hips hump to meet yours. Maybe in the morning, with a kiss on the cheek and the taste of coffee on your tongue. He puts so much care into repeating your name that you almost cave when he asks if you want to get smoothies together.

You're a strong, independent woman. That and, well, his pissed-off face was sexy. Your glossy lips smirk at him as you cock your hip, "Sorry, I'm getting drinks with friends. I'll catch you later, though, yeah?"

"...Alright, yeah."

The way you ditch him in the dust leaves him half-chubbed in his shorts. God, you were such a cock tease. If only he could kiss you and show you what you're missing out on by playing cat and mouse. Thick fingers adjust his shorts, and Bakugou pushes his hair back, opting to turn back to his friends indulging in flower necklaces and drunk karaoke.

If you wanted to be the mouse, he had no problem being the cat.

Everything's clear-headed and far too boring and bright. Within time and the coaxing with your friends; you're grinning ear to ear after too many puffs of a joint and sips of cocktails. Things tilt around you, and the music sounds irresistible as you feel the rhythm lend you dance moves. Everything feels like ecstasy as you twirl in circles with your crew. The alcohol was flowing, and you were starting to have that craving for closeness as things ramped up and up.

Natsumi practically topples you over as she blushes into your face. "Come with me. I made some friends."

“Friends? What kinda friends?”

 "Don’t ask, just go. Come on, you have to! They’re cool, you really gotta meet 'em," your friend pleads as you give her a reluctant look.

"Well, okay…"

Natsumi hiccups as she escorts you a few tables over. She giggles about someone being your type, and there's a real worry that the alcohol is clouding her mind, and you’re about to have to reject a loser.

"Hey, Natsumi! I was wondering where you went!"

A yellow-toned boy speaks up, face flushed as he waves a sloppy hand from where he rests on a beachy pull-out. Next to him, Bakugou nurses a rum and coke, eyes red and cast downward towards the ground. They lazily crawl a path up to your eyes, a bit woozy but flickering with recognition.

No fucking way. Of course, he's here, and of course, he looks fantastic! You know your dress looks immaculate. There was no denying that, but Bakugou left your mouth embarrassingly dry. His white button-up was nice, but it was more about what it revealed; tanned skin and the promise of more the further you looked. As you looked down at his body, Bakugou looked up at yours.

As you sit down, you can't help but open your mouth, "What are you doing here?"

"My friends dragged me out, I could be sleeping by now."

You find yourself letting out a small laugh and turning toward him with interest. He really wasn't so bad.

“You sleep early?”

“You don’t?”

Amid it all, Bakugou and you end up squished together as the budding love story of your two friends blossoms. Every time their heated make out spills into limbs crossing over into your bubble, you grunt in frustration, inevitably scooting closer to your frenemy with a slight sway.

"She is so ridiculous," you comment on Natsumi with a slight huff. "So is your friend, by the way."

"Maybe they're made for each other," he snorts.

A beat of silence passes by as you both observe each-other. It was really more like admiring, though.

 "Why're you so standoffish? I said I was sorry, called you pretty, ‘nd you don't wanna give me another chance?"

He grumbles when he says it but looks curious as his teeth sink into his lip for a split second. You almost get lost in the motion as you unconsciously lean closer like a moth to a flame.

"I didn't peg you as someone who begged."

"Sometimes you make mistakes, hm? And I'm not begging, babe, trust me."

The conversation dies, but the tension grows larger. The way his voice dropped made your thighs squeeze together. Blood flowed south as Bakugou traced over your red lips and briefly down to your cleavage–nice, he smirked.

"Well, whatever," you pray the sip of your lychee martini gives you a long enough reprieve to think of how to coyly flirt back. "What are you doing here anyway? Vacationing? Dying of an illness and this is your last hoorah?"

"Just relaxing. What're you doing besides bein' a brat. Spending daddy's money?"

"I paid for this trip myself, actually!"

"I like a smart woman," he says, moving to brush his thumb lightly against your cheek. He pulls away just as fast, and you can smell the breeze of his icy cologne. "I paid for myself, too. Can't rely on anyone or anything!"

You see the mask slip just a second. The calm persona dropped to reveal his boyish grin and messy hair.

"Yeah, you really can't."

It was so terrible that you knew deep down he was cute. You couldn't pretend at all. Now that you're starting to know him, you're falling head first into really liking him. You weren't sure if your girls' trip vacation could withstand a passionate, whirlwind romance.

"Oh my god, you know what would be totally fucking fun right now? What if we played a game? You guys know spin the bottle! C'mon," Natsumi beams excitedly.

"I haven't done that since I was still smoking cigarettes!" Ryoka shakes her head with a laugh.

"But, come on," she gives you all a pleading look. "If we haven't done it in forever, wouldn't it be fun to do it one last time?"

Natsumi's heartfelt yet drunken rambles strike a chord within all of you. You glance at Bakugou, who doesn't reply, only shrugging in acquiescence to the group. To hell with it, you call, raising your drink in the air.

"You know what, let's go for it! You're right, Natsumi."

Bakugou eyes you curiously as you stand to hug your friend with a slight wobble in your step. You had a point. To hell with it!

Moments later, you all were knee-rubbing, stumbling idiots sitting in a circle. The more you admire Bakugou as you sit across from him, the more you're hoping the stars align with the spin of the bottle. The kiss would be innocent. Fun and games. It meant nothing. That's what you told yourself to repent for your future sins.

A bead of sweat glides down the back of your neck as the glass goes round and round. You watch as Natsumi eagerly kisses a flushed Kaminari, who is all too eager to receive it. Ryoka and Ayami are familiar but sweet. Kirishima lands a peck on you, but it's nothing crazy.

You miss the way Bakugou's eyes glitter with disappointment every time the green bottle spun past him mockingly, taunting him deviously with the promise of vodka-tinged kisses. Only then do you both find a line drawn between point A, you, and point B, him.

"Finally," Ryoka slurs out.

Suddenly, you're nervous. You're nervous as you sit up a bit more and scoot closer over the bottle containing the will of fate. He looks calm and relaxed, his eyelids lowered just enough to make him look… wanting. Knees graze the carpet as you inch closer until you both can feel each other's breath.

The music is still bumping. The alcohol is still flowing, yet you're stuck in this standstill with nothing to break you out of your reverie. Other than the kiss that's planted on your lips, Bakugou tastes like rum and mint gum. You wonder if you taste like lychee, or maybe you'll mix into an entirely new flavor that leaves you both with incessant cravings.

You're unsure when or who pulls away first, but it happens. Your butt plops down right as the round of giggles surrounds you. Bakugou smirked as he sat back, crossing his legs and taking a smug swig of his drink. It was unfair that you were left dazed; he was the reason for it all.

You okay? He mouths over the talking that's come instead of the next bottle spin.

Are you? You ask with a smirk, flipping your hair in jest.

Bakugou rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a full-on grin. You feel something fond bloom in your chest. Something that makes the sound of ringing bells when you see that flash of teeth and a glimpse of a slick tongue. Someone suggests dancing, and pairs of legs come into view as they stumble out as a crew, a unit. There are two missing cogs. You both stay sitting and facing each other.

"I thought you said you were okay," he jokes as he scoots closer.

You realize you have a tendency to mimic him, "I am. You're the one who didn't even try to pretend to follow."

"I don't pretend anything, pretty. I do and say what I mean."

There's a beat of silence, and your clit throbs at the tone of his voice.

"You know what I mean?"

His voice is deep, almost mocking, as he croons at you. You're going to fuck. It might be now, on the last day of your resort, but it would happen. Set in stone, if you will.

"I think I do."

"Mhm. Let's go dance, gotta show you what a real dancer looks like."

Bakugou offers a firm hand and pulls you up like you weigh nothing. It makes you feel tiny, and you wonder if the same effect will happen as you sway your hips against his dick.

You find yourself dancing to Nelly, and hearing lulls about being a promiscuous girl. It makes satisfaction thrum in your chest at having success in your findings. Grinding did, indeed, produce the same effect. Bakugou was trying to dominate your form, and you let it happen.

Bit by bit, you find yourself caring less about the group and becoming more preoccupied with Bakugou. You let him buy you drinks, giggling as your hands jokingly interlace before you pull away coyly. He only smirks at you, chasing you wherever you go, as if he didn't want you to forget him in your intoxicated parade.

He tells you to call him Katsuki when you slur his last name out, gripping the white button as you pout tiredly, "I want to go back to my room."

"Since when am I your keeper, huh?"

Katsuki lays a steady hand on the curve of your waist and lets you fall into him.

"Don't be mean, we bonded sooo much. I thought you were this asshole guy, but you're actually kinda funny and sexy."

"I think I knew that last part. Remember when you tried this on me before?"

"Are you dumb enough to still reject me?"

"Nah, not this time," he says, making sure to drink in your gaze as he does.

Thankfully, you'd already had your first kiss. That made it easier for him to lean forward and press his lips against yours. The promise of something more, and you practically purred as you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. Katsuki's hands skirt down your back, down to your hips, and pull you so close, "You're sexy, too."

A bartender squawks at your behavior, and his voice floats over the music and sticky kisses to yell for you to get a room! The man at your side noses your neck and then juts forward.

"Come to my room," and he's so gruff. Like he knows you want this, "Wanna get you alone and see how feisty you are then."

You tug your bottom lip between your teeth. Surely, your friends would be fine; your eyes flit between him and the crowd dancing behind him. Yeah, they'd be alright. Your hand slips into his, and he's quick to tug you next to him by your waist. He makes you unsteady and chuckles, "Let's get goin', then."

Neither of you is composed as you tumble through Katsuki's–clearly luxurious–room onto his plush bed. He's not afraid to lift you with his raw strength and place you right where he wants you. It makes you laugh, tinged with shyness, as his red predatory eyes sweep over you before settling on your face.

It's silent as both eyes hold this deep, wanting gaze. He crawls closer, and you lay back further; he's on top of you with a forearm dipping into the mattress and a veiny hand supporting his weight. Katsuki doesn't touch you as if he's waiting for something. You can't wait anymore, and you're ungracefully yanking him closer till his body weight rests on you, and you can feel his hardness poking at your thigh.

He must have been waiting on you–the bastard! But you can't deny that feeling the rippling strength resting on your body and pressing you into the mattress feels good. You and Katsuki exchange saccharine kisses as your bodies grind together like you're one. He grits his teeth and takes a sharp inhale when your wandering hand brushes against his bulge, "don't, fuck, don't do that."

"Why? Sensitive?"

Katsuki's vermilion eyes meet yours and narrow, "you're such a tease, you know?"

His voice is low and honeyed as he slowly peels your skirt from your thick thighs.

"All I did was ignore you the first time–"

"And then I did the second!"

Seemingly having had enough of your quips, a hush falls over you when his hand swats at your thigh, "Yeah, and you're still under me, begging for my cock. Ironic, right?"

He then snickers when sticky strings stretch from your slick pussy to the cotton underwear.

"She's beggin' too."

In a flash, he's lapping at your folds and groaning at how sweet you taste.

"Oh! Oh my god, w-wait!"

“Nuh-uh, no waiting.”

He's so messy with it. His chiseled nose bumps against your clit with every lap as he mixes spit with your leaking arousal; it's so debauched, and yet you're wailing for more as you try to push his face further between your thighs. Katsuki groans and your eyes meet right when he suckles your clit with his plush, rosy lips.

"Y-Your mouth's so good, ohfuck!"

Katsuki lets out a pleased hum before wrangling your squirming hips under a flexing forearm, "don' move too much. Wanna enjoy this, babe."

His right hand comes up to toy with your soaked hole. His teeth are sharp, and he's downright predatory in how he sinks two fingers into you. They're thicker than yours; a keening whimper escapes you.

"C'mon, tell me how it feels. Since you've been dyin' for it, I want a review, baby."

There's a wet clicking sound as fingers crook against that deliciously torturous spot, leaving stars bursting behind your eyelids.

“Gonna cum! Wanna cum, ‘mygod, ‘tsukiii!”

"Already? Such a needy girl," and he latches his tongue to your puffy clit, massaging it as your pleasure uncoils into a white-hot explosion.

Somewhere in the haze, you can hear Katsuki murmuring, "Good girl, good girl," and leaving sharp kisses on your inner thighs. He chuckles at how you jump, how cute, and sighs into your neck before biting your pulse point.

"Holy fuck," you mumble, hands wringing into his shirt as he peels off his shirt and makes his way up yours.

"You alright? Looked like things were good," and he has the nerve to snicker at you. "It's okay to admit it."

"You're such a cocky bastard. When are you gonna fuck me?"

Katsuki's hands are practically already in his pants as he unbuckles his belt. He shoves his jeans down, and your eyes widen at how big he looks, the fat head leaving a dark patch of pre-cum against his gray boxers. You're coming closer as he tugs off his underwear, leaving him exposed. His cock bobs, smearing on his navel, while a throaty groan escapes his lips once you wrap a soft hand around him. He's so hot and weighty in your hand that you can feel how he practically pulses in your hand; you can't help but want to go in for a little taste…

He's gentle as thick fingers press back on the crown of your head, a tut escaping his lips as he shakes his head, "No way. I'll cum way too fast, wanna give it to you good."

The scratchiness of his voice leaves your thighs pressing together. Katsuki kisses you before motioning for you to settle on your hands and knees.

"Like this?"

You're practically mewling at him! Your back arches so tauntingly, cute butt perked up in the air and swaying back and forth. Katsuki draws close, and your eyelids are fluttering when his fat head bumps against your soaked folds, "ohfuck, stop admiring me already."

"And here I thought you wanted it all nice and sweet," and you're whimpering as the head barely breaches past your pussy. "But, I'll give it to ya' how you like it."

With that, his hands are smoothing over the curve of your back as his heavy balls press against your pussy clit. You're already caving for him, with eyes threatening to roll towards the ceiling as his hips stick to yours. He's so full inside you that you can barely move, barely breathe, only able to leak around him as he grunts, "so fuckin' tight. 'S like you're a virgin."

"Katsukiii. Fuck, pleasepleaseplease move!"

He hums thoughtfully, hips rocking just the slightest inside your gummy walls.

"Ask me again," and he punctures it with a thrust that leaves you breathless.

"Please, wanna feel you fuck me. I-I've been waiting for your annoying ass, I wanna cum so bad…"

The man behind you doesn't seem convinced, though his hips move just a tad faster. " C'mon. I know you can do it. What is it you want again?"

He's pushing you to your breaking point. Katsuki's strong enough that he can press forward and bend you further into that delicious arch, nearly fucking you into the mattress if he would just move!

"Oh god, fuck me. Need to feel you take control, Katsuki, I-I can't! I need you, need you so bad, 'm gonna cry. I jus' wanna feel you breed me, please!?"

"Was that so hard?"

Within seconds, he's hunkering down and fucking you within an inch of your life. Your hands desperately cling to the duvet as if that'll ground you, but he's moving too hard and fast!

"S-So deep, ohshit!"

"Ngh, yeah? You're fucking grippin' me, I love how you sound, how you taste, how you feel–fuuuuck. Let me have it, baby."

You're wailing as you gush around him. The smell of sex is overpowering, and your panting breaths mingle with Katsuki's. You can't help but push back just a bit, the two of you joined together so intimately. His muscles ripple with every rock into your cunt. You wish you could see how debauched he looks–though your ears are privy to the hot groans and curses flying out of him as he slides home over and over and over again.

Katsuki loses himself in your pussy, head tipping back to expose the expanse of his throat as his balls tighten with his orgasm. God, fuck, did you say to breed you? He tries to recover as he watches your sneaky hand desperately rub you till you're trying to run from his thrusts (to which he only tuts and brings you back full force towards him). The slick, papping sounds echo, and you're not even sure what you're saying as you wail for him.

"Oh, 'm gonna cum all over you. Ohfuckfuckfuck, wait! I-I'm gonna, Katsuki!"

"Yeah? Cum all over this dick, let me feel it. Fuck, 'm gonna cum too, gonna fill you up."

Your wrist twists another tight circle, and you're falling apart. Your thighs shake and tight walls squeeze Katsuki, trying to draw him as deep as possible as he hits your g-spot dead on. A cry escapes you, and you know his base is creamy from your orgasm. In the haze, you can tell he's close by how his fingers twitch around your hips; you start mewling weakly for him, "cum inside me. Ohmygod!!”

He's sure he's leaving bruises, and yet he doesn't even care as he shoots rope after rope inside you. God, your pussy sucks him in like it wants every drop; despite the sensitivity, Katsuki can't help but keep moving till you're whining from overstimulation. Pulling out slowly and giving your thigh a playful swat, the two of you practically collapse into the soft sheets.

Katsuki's hand quickly grabs your chin and pulls you to face him. " Are you good?"

With your hair mussed and bruises littering your body, you were more than good. A soft nod, and then you're scooting closer for warmth. Katsuki lets it happen to your joy, a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he hoists you close.

"Good, you gonna run off of me, now?"

"No. Are you?"

"It's my room, you stalker," he teases with a toothy grin. His features are relaxed, and his red eyes are a bit glazed.

He looks wonderful. Beautiful, even.

—

You review your mental checklist one last time as you pace about your room, door open. How could it have all ended so soon? You'd spent the rest of your days happily fucking, drinking, and soaking in the luxuries of the resort.

Katsuki lingers by the doorway. A flicker of fondness grows into a fire when you turn to see him and smile. When did he get so soft?

"Hey! What's up?"

"What's up? It's your last day, and you're what's upping me."

"Katsukiii," you drag out the syllables and catch the faintest smirk on his lips. "Don't get too sad while I'm gone."

"Please," he scoffs and rolls his eyes, the two of you making eye contact that holds longer than it should.

The two of you shouldn't be so dramatic; you should try to steel yourself. It's not like you've known each other for that long, Katsuki thinks before reaching out and pulling you into a loose hug.

"See ya," he grumbles.

"Hehe, text me! Call me whenever," you mumble into the muscle of his chest.

He smells like the start of a campfire, mixed with a cool cologne that wafts like the breeze of a nearby ocean. You pull away and look into the tides of his eyes, the Red Sea staring back at you, before he gently kisses your lips.

"I'll think about it. For now, I'll walk you out," and he wraps a possessive arm around your waist.

There was no other option; he was walking you out. You squawk at his comment, "That is not an 'I'll think about it' statement!"

"Oh, yeah? Well, lemme think on it."

"Stop it!"

[blimpintime]

warmth azriel x reader

Based on this ask!

this is my first time writing for Azriel!

warnings: past abuse

word count: 840 words

is unedited

Tumbling down the side of the rocky hill, you manage to hit and scrape every part of your small, frail body on the freezing rough ground. Small wings bleeding and bent at odd angles twitch on your back as you finally stop moving. 

You hear laughter above you and making its way towards you. Groaning and spitting out blood and saliva out of your mouth as they reach you. Being ten is one thing in Illyria, being a ten year old bastard daughter in Illyria is another thing.

The boys that shoved you down the hill in the first place are trying to get you to the river to drown you, you have figured that out pretty quickly, but because of having a rough life from the get go you won't be going down without a fight.

It’s a struggle getting back on your feet, your wings being clipped a week prior and now broken and mangled making it hard for you to balance. 

“Look at her, she is pathetic.” One of them snickers, you look at the two standing before you, the tall figures looking hazy under the moonlight. 

“It’s a wonder she’s lasted this long in the first place. Look at how small she is. We are doing her a favor putting her out of her misery.”  

“One day, I will kill you both.” You say with a bloody grin, “It might not be today, or tomorrow but I will do it. With a smile on my face.” You spit blood out at their feet. 

It must have been the look of determination or maybe desperation on your face, but the two boys took a step back, and then laughed. 

“Sure, but you’re dead tonight bastard bitch.” And they start making their way towards you. 

“What did you call her?” A voice appears.

And three figures emerge from the tree line.

You cough a laugh out, and fall to your knees. A comforting warmth appears beside you helping you stand.

“You okay?” And it’s Azriel standing tall and brave before you, even at just twelve years old. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You say with a grin.

Dinner was always loud and fun with the family all together, Cassian and Nesta seeing who could out drink one another. Feyre and Rhysand egging them on and placing bets, and then you and Azriel silently watching them with warmth and humor.

“Oh to the mother you know damn well if any one here can out drink you it's her.” Rhysand says and gestures to you, to which you balk and choke on your drink you were sipping on. 

Azriel’s hand gently rubs your back with a knowing smile on his face. You feel love and mirth through the bond. Everyone has their eyes on you expecting to join in on the bets. 

“Ah, that’s not something I need to prove Cassy.” You say with a wink and he pouts. “Plus, I cannot drink right now.” 

Feyre drops her glass and it breaks. “Shut the fuck up.” She says while launching toward you with a smile, clearly being more tipsy than anyone was expecting. “Nyx is going to have a cousin.” She says with a sob.

“Feyre darling careful-” Rhys winces and tries to get out before she tackles you. Everyone has huge grins on their faces. 

“So? How long have you known?” Nesta asks softly. 

“About three months.” Azriel responds with a warm smile. 

“Well, that brings up one question I have.” Cassian says with a burp, you wince and call him gross. 

“Who is going to be the scary parent?” Cassian asks with a drunkenly serious face. 

“Obviously, y/n.” Nesta and Feyre say. Rhysand rubs his chin in thought and nods. “Yes, that's true.” 

Azriel looks shocked and you hide a grin in his shoulder. 

“Awe, Azzy don’t look so shocked.” Nesta says with a drunken snort. “Your mate is literally a reaper.” And she’s not wrong, you got the nickname centuries ago when you picked up a scythe as the weapon you preferred to fight with. You and Azriel often got the title of the Shadow and Reaper when put on missions together. 

The dinner soon comes to an end when Nesta and Cassian pass out on the couches, Feyre asleep on the table and Rhys coaxing her to get to an actual bed. 

“I love our family.” You whisper to Azriel as he puts your beanie on your head for you. He drags his hands down to your face, squishes your cheeks and kisses your nose. 

“I love you sweets.” He responds to you and then helps you put your shaw on for the cold walk home. You giggle and help him put his gloves on for him. 

You both head home down the path, leaning into one another with the snow lightly falling. But for some reason because of him you only feel warmth. And even though you live together you wish the walk was a little longer, just to enjoy that peaceful quiet love with Azriel.

a/n: YAYYYYY! okay so this is it! please lemme know how y'all feel!

my asks are still open right now!

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Last, Last Time

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her pronouns)

WC: ~7.3k

TW: Angst, guns, violence, mentions of domestic violence, blood, swearing, depression, kidnapping, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, heartbreak, arguing, the grieving process, drinking, screaming, crying, sobbing, throwing up, being under pressure, and anything else that comes with a criminal minds episode.

a/n: based on S15 E6 - first date. I love u aubrey plaza <3. Also inspired by the song Last, Last Time by Boys Go To Jupitar. writing this was a little bit of a catharsis since it's one of the first things I've been able to write. I'm sorry I've been so m.i.a., i just moved to a new country and that has been a crazy experience. But to cope with that, enjoy some gut-wrenching angst!

Spencer Masterlist

“Spencer I won’t—I can’t keep doing this. I’m sick of arguing in circles.” 

“Y/n…”

“I-I feel like you take me for fucking granted Spencer. All I do is work and then come home and wait for you to actually be able to, I don’t know, sleep in the same bed as me for more than four hours.”

The look in his eyes almost took you out but your heart had already been broken long, long before this argument. If anything, you were starting to feel this sense of freedom as you broke his heart. 

“Please. Y/n. Just–I don’t—Just give me a few days to convince Hotch to let me have some time off and we can work on this please.” 

“Wait for the potential of us?” 

Spencer’s jaw loosened. You couldn’t read beyond the initial layer of pain and confusion, which made your chest ache since not too long ago you could have been able to find everything you needed in his expression.

“God Spencer this can’t be fucking news to you. We’ve been drifting apart for months now.” 

“I know, I know. You have been so patient with me and I’ve just been….there was that whole thing with Cat and then….I-I was trying so hard y/n…”

“No, first there was that whole thing with Maeve.”

“That’s not fair—”

“Oh that’s not fair? Really? You’re going to tell me the entire Maeve thing isn’t fair to you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “I’m not saying you weren’t trying but come one Spencer. There’s no need to deny this shit anymore. I hate it when you lie to me about these kinds of things.” 

Spencer’s hand came up to his face and it dragged down, aging him significantly with the fatigue written all over his face. 

“So you’re just going to pack up everything, break my heart, and leave? Were you even going to say goodbye, or was I going to come home to an empty home. A note or....” 

“I-I don’t know Spencer. I just don’t…” 

The tears were starting to creep in, and you had to place the box down before you lost it.

“This isn’t easy for me either…” Your chest heaved. 

The both of you stood in silence, tension simmering surrounding the both of you like heat on a summer’s eve. Neither of you could really look at one another, but it felt wrong to look at anything else. Something was missing but you couldn’t say it outloud. You knew you would always love Spencer Reid but this time it was not enough. 

“I’m tired of arguing Spencer.” 

Your eyes met his. You felt Spencer’s arms around you before you could even feel the tears hit your cheeks. Your arms immediately went to his neck, so familiar. No longer home. 

Spencer’s voice muttered into your ear. “Don’t cry Jolie. It’ll be okay..” 

About three years ago, Spencer had decided that he didn’t like that you had nicknames for him, and he had none for you. He spent weeks workshopping different ones : Sugar, Honey, Pumpkin, Sweetheart, Darlin, Pookie, Lover, Sunny (like sunshine), Sunshine—it was a wild few weeks trying to figure out who he was talking to. Then one day, offhandedly, he was trying to tell you about this french film he had been watching, and trying to get Emily to watch with him. 

He called you ‘tres jolie’, and blushing you had asked him what it meant. He told you it meant pretty. 

And it stuck. 

Now? It stung. 

All you could do was squeeze tightly onto him, not ready to let go.

“You’re so pretty when you’re lying through your teeth.” You whispered after a few moments, pulling away out of his arms. 

“I.” You swallow and step back, out of his reach. “Maybe I’ll...” 

Spencer just looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold in the tears that were streaming down his face. 

You grabbed the last box on the counter and your keys, and walked out, for the last time. 

You awoke in your bed, eyes adjusting to the complete darkness the blackout curtains provided you. 

Another fucking night thinking about your decision those four years ago, and how your life may have gotten better because of it. 

Moving to get up from the bed, you decided to leave the curtains closed for now, feeling as if you could melt from the sun touching you. 

You turned on the bathroom light and started your morning routine. Wash face. Take meds. Brush teeth. Fix hair—

Somewhere in that process, you got lost, and just stared at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t sure for how long. All you could do was replay the last four years. 

Did you make the right choice? You were happy, you had your dream job. 

Maybe it was true what they say, you can only have a career or love, but not both—

The only thing taking you out of this spiral was the ringer on your phone going off. 

This caused some hesitation because your phone’s ringer was always off––the loud noise startling you. There were only a few people who had that emergency bypass, and none of them had called you in four years. 

You peaked out of the bathroom and saw the name light up on your phone. 

Emily Prentiss

______________________________________________________________

The door to the round room opened up and in walked Spencer Reid. “Catch me up.” 

Prentiss clicked the remote, and the TV lit up with a picture of a woman smirking facing the camera while holding a gun up to another one next to her. “Early this morning, Garcia got an email from an anonymous server.”

The second woman was tied up, mouth slightly open, and eyes filled with tears, while a man on the other side just had his eyes closed, tired. . 

Spencer just stared at the photo. 

Rossi nodded at the picture. “She's not obscuring her face, telling us she's got nothing to hide.”

He never pulled focus away from the screen, mouth dry at the thought of what today was going to be. “Any ideas on the unsub?”

“No.” Prentiss sighed. “Only the unsub's demand. That we release Catherine Adams in 24 hours.  I'm having her transferred here for questioning, but we have no illusions. This is just a game to her. We know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

______________________________________________________________

Receiving a call from the FBI was not entirely new to you, since you had been engaged to one of their agents, but receiving one now? Weird. Off brand. Something was deeply wrong from them to have to give you a call. 

You hesitantly pick up the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey Y/n, it’s Emily Prentiss—“

“I know who you are, Emily. It’s been a couple years, not millions.” 

Emily hummed a brief laugh, and you could hear other voices behind her, unable to make out anything. 

“I know this is hard to ask of you, but would you stay on the phone with me and come in?” 

“What?” 

“I need you to stay very calm Y/n, but I need you to stay on the line with me, leave your apartment as soon as you can, and get to the BAU.” 

“Oh my god I totally forgot. It might take me an hour to get there with all this bullshit traffic, could we push the reservation an hour? Would they be willing to do that?” 

Your entire tone changed, having remembered what Spencer had told you all those years ago about if people were listening into your apartment, if they bugged your car—all paranoia that didn’t pay off then, might be paying off now. 

You were sure you could hear Emily sigh, and it sounded a little upset at the fact that you knew what to do–you knew how to handle a dangerous situation, which made her question everything in her life. 

Quickly you pulled on a pair of jeans and threw a sweatshirt over your pajama top and grabbed your keys off of the counter. 

You left your apartment, waved to one of your neighbors, and hopped into your car, still on the line, just trying not to panic. Maybe something went wrong, maybe Spencer wasn’t okay, maybe he had died—you refused to even acknowledge that thought and decided it was something else entirely. 

It was a very tense hour of driving, that was only about forty minutes since you knew how to drive above the speed limit. 

You realized that it was past midday, and you had taken full advantage of the weekend. So at least you had a decent amount of sleep under your belt for what felt like the beginning of an extraneous night. 

As you pulled into the parking garage, Emily Prentiss and someone you had never met before were standing there waiting for you. You placed your car in park, hopped out and walked up to them–only hanging up as soon as you were out of the car. 

Both of them had such grim looks on their faces, but at least they were trying to pretend like the situation wasn’t as bad as it appeared to your face. 

Emily engulfed you in a hug. “Missed you Y/n. It’s been too long.” 

“Well Em, next time I end an engagement with someone I’ll consider your feelings first.” You squeezed him back, dryly laughing at your own joke. At least it caused Emily to snort. 

“Y/n this is SSA Luke Alvez. Luke, this is Y/n Y/l/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” He gave a small smile and nodded at you.

“I wish it were under different circumstances.” You nodded back and looked over at Emily.

“Let’s head inside?” 

The three of you moved inside. 

Sure, you hadn’t been here in a while, but you knew your way around the BAU Bullpen if your life depended on it, which was ironic since that was what this feels like. 

As soon as you were safely in their round table room, Luke shut the door, and stood by it, Emily coming and sitting down next to you. 

“What do you know about Cat Adams?” 

That bitch. 

______________________________________________________________

“I would like to go on a date. With you.” 

Spencer stared at her, face stoic as ever. “A date?”

“Yes. I want to look pretty. And I want to have fun.” She looked him up and down. “And I won't even get physical, ok? Unless you want me to.”

Spencer sat down across from her. “Come here. Closer.”

Cat leaned in, a small smile on her face, absolutely intoxicated by being so close to him.

“The only date that I'll be there for is the one where they stick a needle in your vein.”

Cat scoffed. “You're just going to let her father and sister die? I don't think so.”

“I never said it was a father and daughter. You're already slipping.” He stood up from the table. “We'll find them. We always do.”

Cat leaned back and crossed her arms. “Not tonight. Tonight I win.”

His resolution had yet to change, “The score between me and you is two to zero. By tomorrow morning, it'll be a clean sweep. Enjoy eternal nothingness. It's a metaphor for your life.” 

And with that, the door slammed shut behind him.

______________________________________________________________

Both the profilers watched a series of emotions run rampant across your face, before you settled on a somewhat displeased smile. “A lot.” 

They exchanged a look, and you didn’t have the energy to pretend like you didn’t know what it was. 

“Don’t start with me you two. I know profiling. I know what you’re doing. Ask me the questions you want to ask. Don’t try and trick me into giving the answers you want.” 

Alvez bit his tongue and looked away, trying to hide a small smile that appeared on his lips. 

Emily, on the other hand, hid her smile a bit better than him, but part of being previously engaged to a profiler meant you picked up on some of their tricks too. 

She nodded and pulled a file from across the table. “I’m assuming you know the basics since she, uh, is obsessed with Spencer.”

“Glad to see he still has that going for him.” You muttered and looked into the file. 

Emily shot Luke a look when he let out a huff or air, trying his damndest not to laugh. 

“What is the last thing you know about her?” 

You recounted the days leading up to the restaurant, and then the few days after, decidedly stopping short of the engagement breaking off a week later. 

They shared another look, and you didn’t enjoy whatever it was that had moved across their faces. 

“What? What happened?” 

“Y/n..”

“No Emily, I drove from DC to here, I deserve to know what happened. without some weird sugarcoating, alright?” 

Emily then begins to explain to you the past four years of Reid’s life. Cat pretending she was pregnant with his kid in prison, kidnapping his mother, framing him for murder in Mexico, going to prison—

“Spencer went to prison and none of you thought to call me….”

“We didn’t think you’d–” 

“I’m a fucking criminal defense attorney in DC Emily. Of course I’d want to know if he was arrested, especially internationally. I know that law better than all of you. If someone I knew was kidnapped, I’d call you immediately. Faster than the cops.” 

Both of them went silent. 

“So is he out?” 

They nodded slowly, silently. 

“How long was he in there.”

Nothing. 

“I asked. How. Long.”

Luke spoke up. “Three months.” 

“Jesus christ.” You stood up and started to pace around the room, taking the time you needed to calm down. 

Why didn’t Spencer call you—well you knew why Spencer wouldn’t call you. 

“Okay so he’s out.” You said finally. “Why am I here?” 

“Cat’s execution is coming up, and we….we found out that she’s convinced someone to kidnap some….people…close to Reid, and we knew you’d be on that list for him.” 

Your eyebrows went up at people but said nothing of it. Just as you went to say something else, JJ knocked on the door, another blonde woman behind her. 

They entered and JJ gave you a small, yet genuine smile. 

You returned it, but quickly shifted your gaze onto the woman behind. 

Your whole body shifted slightly, into a place of defense, locking your emotions down. You knew all the profilers were watching it happen in real time, which is why Emily walked over and stood next to you, a hand appearing on the small of your back as a comfort.

“Would someone like to tell me what is going on here?” The blonde woman spoke up, arms crossed.

At least Spencer’s taste in partners with attitude hadn’t changed. 

______________________________________________________________

“Victimology is off.”

“How so?” Prentiss looked up at him as he walked into the room. 

“Father and daughter. She’s never done that before.” 

Lewis spoke up. “She usually kills men that remind her of her father. Children–even adult children, are off limits. Do we have an ID yet.” 

Prentiss, Rossi, Garcia, and JJ all looked over at Reid, and he just pulled a hand down his face. “It’s. It’s Issac and Noelle Y/l/n.” 

“Y/l/n…as is Y/n Y/l/n.” Tara looked up surprised at Spencer. 

Reid nodded slowly, just staring at the picture on the projector.

While Luke spoke up. “Who is Y/n Y/l/n.” 

“An old friend.” Rossi quickly interjected, before any more explanation had to be said. It was clear both Alvez and Simmons, that whoever this was, was an extremely touchy subject for Reid. 

Tara, who had only known you for a little while, looked back at the picture. 

Rossie spoke up. “What do we know about the partner who’s helping her?” 

“It’s got to be someone from her prison.” Simmons spoke up. “She hasn’t had contact with anyone else.” 

______________________________________________________________

After all of that, you found yourself back in a place you left four years ago. It looked almost the same as when you had first moved in, but there was less of it. 

Almost as if he was having trouble covering places where things used to be.

There were almost no photos on the walls, since you had taken half of them, and were in the rest. 

Calling someone you once loved a stranger feels wrong. 

Max, as you had learned her name, was just sitting on the couch in your spot . She was looking around as you and Rossi stood by the kitchen counter. 

“Cat had a cellmate named Juliette Weaver. We believe the two were working together, as a way for Cat to get something against Spencer, and as payment, Cat would get Juliette’s ex.”

You nodded. “How does this affect me?” 

“She took your father and sister.” 

Your back straightened and immediately brought out your phone, to call your sister, but Rossi just grabbed your wrist (gently) and shook his head. “If she finds out you know, then it’s all over. She’s doing this on purpose. She knows about you and Reid, but she knows that dragging you into all of this will hurt him more than anything else.” 

His voice had gone low and quiet, so that the girl on the couch couldn’t hear. 

“So why is she here?” You whispered back. 

“Because we don’t want anyone in danger.” 

You closed your eyes and nodded. “I need a cup of tea.” 

Rossi let go of your wrist, and you walked into the kitchen, mostly eyes closed from the stress of the situation. 

The apartment was silent, the others watching as you grabbed a kettle, and started to make tea. It was like second nature to you as you turned the stovetop on, grabbed a mug from the cabinet (careful to not grab one of his favorites), and grabbed some tea from the cabinet. 

It didn’t dawn on you that you were drinking your favorite type of tea until the second sip, while the entire apartment was still silent. 

The pity from Rossi's look was palpable. 

“Don’t even start.” 

He shrugged and stayed silent. 

Until his walkie went off and he looked at Max. “It’s time. Let’s go.” 

Rossi looked back at you and gave you a quick hug, squeezing you tightly. “You’ve got this kid. Remember everything we talked about.” 

You nodded and gave them both a strained smile as they left the apartment, leaving you all alone in this place you once called home, alone. 

Never once, since you left, did you think you would ever be back here. You didn’t even realize you were drinking from one of your own mugs until it was just you. The irony of it was not lost on you, and you sat down in your spot on the couch. 

Well first you sat in Spencer’s seat but it felt too weird, so you shifted back into your spot on the couch. 

______________________________________________________________

“Juliette staked out in Reid’s life. Found out he was dating someone, but then must have discovered his ex-fiancée.” Simmons sighed. “He was probably so focused on Max, he didn’t even realize that someone was digging into his history, following them around.”

Prentiss nodded as they walked and talked. “But if Juliette was able to find Max, that meant she was easily able to find Y/n and her family. It means she must have access to all of her publicly available information. “

“Well at least we found their hidden agenda.” 

“No. We found Cat’s hidden agenda. Juliette doesn’t care about Reid. There’s something we’re missing here. Do a deep dive with Garcia.” 

Simmons nodded at Prentis. “On it.” 

“I’ll go to Reid's apartment and monitor onsite. Is there a trap and trace on his landline?” 

“Garcia’s almost set up.” Simmons walked away from Prentiss, and down towards Penelope’s office. 

“Well this went from bad to worse.” Tara walked up to Emily. 

Emily sighed in agreement. 

Lewis spoke up. “Female narcissists destroy their competition.Y/n  really shouldn’t be in there.” 

Emily just nodded and the two of them headed out of the bullpen. “Walk with me.” 

Tara kept stride with her as they pushed through the doors. Rossi was just getting off the phone with someone and turned to look at the two women approaching him and JJ. 

JJ spoke up when Rossi was finished. “So, the hospital just released the dad– Issac Y/l/n. He's on his way here now.

Rossi scoffed. “Question is, why let him go at all?”

“Matt's on that.” Emily gestures in the direction of Garcia’s office. “Juliette Weaver's real agenda should tell us where she's taking Y/n’s younger sister.”

Lewis spoke next. “I still think the play here is to get Cat and Juliette to contact each other, but I have no idea how.”

Prentiss crossed her arms. “I have a plan, but first we have to talk about Y/n.” 

______________________________________________________________

Just then, you heard the click of the door, and stood up, watching as the door swung open. 

And there he was. 

This was the first time you had seen Spencer in four years. 

And here he was, kissing Catherine Adams. 

The woman you could give partial credit to for ending your relationship. 

After a moment Spencer looked up, and took several steps away from Cat. His eyes were wide and locked on yours. 

It took a lot of self-restraint to not punch the lights out of Cat, and to stand still arms crossed. 

“Y/n?” Spencer’s voice broke a little bit. 

You never would say that Spencer was unattractive. In fact, it would be a lie if you ever said it. But something about the past four years aged him like a fine wine. 

His hair was a bit longer, he had some scruff—his baby face had melted away and standing in front of you was a man who thought you knew everything about, but was now a stranger. 

You didn’t answer him, watching as he took you in, standing in his apartment, for the first time since…

“What are you doing here?” 

You looked over at Cat, who had the most devious smirk on her face. 

Remember what Prentiss had said to you. 

“You know why I’m here.” 

Cat nodded and the two of them moved into the apartment, the door closing behind them. 

Spencer just stood ten feet away from you, eyes never leaving you, and you watched him right back. 

Cat, on the other hand, was walking around, examining the apartment. You could see her take notice of the tea you had made yourself on the counter. You could see the hatred from the corner of your eyes. The two of you were starting to piss her off. 

She spoke up, after a few moments of silence. “Did it make you mad that I was kissing your Fiancé?” 

You shook your head. “No.”

Your focus had fully turned to Cat, but you swore you swore you could hear Spencer take a sharp inhale as you spoke your next words.

“Well, he's not my fiancé and I kind of have some other things on my mind.”

Cat didn’t scare you, but there was just something so off-putting about her. “Like what?” 

“Are you gonna hurt Noelle?”

Cat shrugged. “Not if I don't have to, no. Honestly, if she follows instructions, she might even learn from this whole experience.”

You scoffed. “What does that mean?”

Cat just started fiddling with the chess set on the dresser. 

“Spencer, what does she mean?” You turned to look back at him, his name feeling so good on your tongue. 

Spencer, who really hadn’t stopped looking at you and sighed. “I think…She means that Noelle isn’t learning from her, but from Juliette.” 

You sat down in your spot on the couch, arms crossed. You were on the full defense. 

Spencer noticed where you sat and had to look down to conceal any notions of a smile on his face. 

Cat watched him before turning and looking at you, some more disdain on her face than before. 

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight, I've brought you all here to make a point. You are doing so much better.” 

Spencer spoke up. “With you?”

“I'm not talking to you.” Cat snapped at him before she turned to you. “I'm talking to you. Because, girlfriend, you need to know the truth about your fiancé.” 

“He's not my finacé.” You were unsure about how many more times you could say that outloud. 

“No kidding. When’s the last time you spoke? Right…” Cat walked over to the center of the room, right in front of the couch. “Here?” 

Your head whipped around to Spencer. “You told her about that?”

Spencer was pleading with his eyes. “I had to say a lot of things tonight.”

Cat’s voice caused your head to snap back to her. “Yes, he has. He said that you never compared to me, that, um... That no matter what, he will never get me out of his mind, unlike you. Unlike that girlfriend.” 

You tried not to wince at the mention of that girl Maxine out in one of the trucks.

Spencer sat down next to you. “Everything I said—I was lying to save your family.”

Cat scoffed. “Did our kiss look like a lie?” 

“No.” you just looked down at your hands. 

“Thank you. See, now we're getting to the heart of the matter.” Cat started mocking Spencer. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is... Is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who, uh, always saves the day and has all the answers. And has zero mommy issues, right? But, um... I know the real him.” 

“Oh, yeah? Who's the real me, Cat?” 

“The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls. And hisses that he's going to kill them.” 

Spencer stood up, squaring off against her.  “That was a very different situation.”

“No, it wasn't.” Cat was holding the smirk back this time, making your gut wretch. 

“Spencer…What is she talking about?” You looked from the psychopath in front of you, to the man you realized you might have never really known beside you.

“You tell her. She's not gonna believe it coming from me.” She huffed. 

Reid turned and looked at you. “Two years ago, Cat had her partner kidnap my mother. Just like tonight. She got under my skin and…”

Your chest hurts. “And you threw her against a wall?” 

Cat’s smirk was breaking through whatever resolve she had. “Don't skimp on the details, Spencie. She deserves to know everything.”

Every single time she said Spencie you swore a shock went up your spine. 

Spencer looked down at his hands, and then over at you. His voice had gotten quieter. “She was pregnant at the time and I knew that when I hurt her.” 

“And?” She stood there expectantly, waiting for Spencer to finish. When he didn’t, her face suddenly became solemn. “The next day... I miscarried. The end.”

Spencer looked at her. “That's not true.” 

“It is most certainly true. Check my medical records.” 

“That doesn't mean I-I would…”

Cat held up her hand to him. “Stop. Look.”

Spencer looked over at you, just sitting on the couch, trying to process everything that was going through your head. 

After thinking about everything you had gone through, especially with Spencer. “I thought you were better than that Spence.” 

It was the first time you had used a nickname for him in years. And he was hearing it for the first time while you were stuck in a standoff between himself and Cat Adams, your sister being god knows where. 

Spencer’s voice cracked. “I'm sorry.” 

Cat squatted down in front of you, a sick smile on her lips. She was enjoying this. She truly enjoyed watching his life crumble to bits. “Notice how your Spencie is apologizing to you and not me.”

You clenched your hands. “He’s not mine…”

Spencer just looked over at you. 

Cat nodded. “That's good. Because men are all the same. Aren't they, Jolie?” 

Spencer’s eyes lit up with an emotion you rarely saw from him when you were together. “Don't call her that.”

And you couldn’t blame him. The word ran you through like a spear and you were sure if you looked behind you, the blade would be through the couch. You tried so hard to not let either of the two people near you see how much it messed with you. Luckily for you, Cat was too busy pushing Spencer’s buttons to see the way her words won against you. 

Cat hissed at him. “What, are you gonna throw me against a wall and choke me, or do you only do that to pregnant women?” 

You finally spoke up. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I want you to see it.” She gestured to Spencer. “I want you to see that he is...no better than he was before, or any man after. They’re all the same.” 

“Stop.”

Cat squatted down in front of you. “I can see it on your face. What's his name?” 

You stared back at her. “It's none of your business.”

That damned smirk of hers returned. “It is exactly my business. In fact, it's my specialty. I mean, I could have Juliette and baby sister go over there if you want. They could take care of him.” 

Reid looked over at you. “Say yes. Give her what she wants.” 

“Hmm. See, he wants you to get me to make a little phone call so they can trace it.” She moved away from you both and sat down in the lounging chair across from you. “They're so good, the FBI.”

You jumped up and started pacing, a spitting image of four years ago. “What is wrong with the two of you? What is this sick, twisted thing that you have? Listen, I just want to save my sister. Will you please just tell me what I have to do to do that?” 

“Tell me his name. Tell me the story. That's it. And then if they can let Juliette exit stage right, then I promise you I will let her go.”

You looked between Cat and Spencer before walking over to the kitchen, and hanging up the phone. After staring down at the decision you had just made, you walked back over and took your phone out. “Here.  Use this. Use my phone. They can't trace it.”

She just watched you. “You'd be surprised.”

“I don't even need a call. Just... just a photo.” You held the phone out to her. “Something to prove to me that she's still alive. Please”. 

Cat just looked up at your face. “Story first.”

“Y/n. Please.” Spencer turned to you, hoping you’d look back at him. “I have been here with her before. She called the number and told the partner to kill my mom.”

“It is so tricky, isn't it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath... Or me?”

You looked down at the ground, refusing to look over at Spencer. “His…His name was Mike Davis. We dated for two years. I met him a month after we…we split.”

Cat’s attention on you felt as if there were a million bees stinging your body all at different intervals, pain coursing through your body. “Good. When did it end?” 

“Last year.” 

“Was he good in bed?” 

Spencer stood up. “Shut up.” 

Cat was enjoying this. She was enjoying watching you make Spencer uncomfortable. She was enjoying hurting him in every masochistic way she could. “What? You have to know where you stand.”

“He was good…” You looked back at Cat. “Good at, um, separating me from my friends and my family. Enough that the first time he punched me in the face, I didn't have anywhere to go. And my first response wasn't "get out." It wasn't "go to hell." It was "I'm sorry, Mike." That's when he knew he had me.”

There was a glint in Spencer’s eyes, and you could swear they were tears, but you couldn’t tell from rage or sorrow. 

Cat continued to probe. “How many hospital visits were there?” 

You showed her a small scar on the inside of your elbow. “None. No, he... He knew how to hurt me just enough to hide it all, I guess.”  

“But you found the strength to leave. What did you do?” 

“ I planned and I... I waited.”

Cat’s eyes lit up. “Waited for what? “

“I live here in D.C.” You looked between Spencer and Cat. “but I'm also a resident in Virginia. It takes 60 days for the permit to clear.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Y/n, stop talking. Stop talking right now.”

Cat shushed him. “No, don't stop. Here. Give me the phone. Look, I'm gonna enter the text. Stick the landing and I'll hit "send."

You handed her the phone and she quickly typed out a message, her thumb hovering over send. 

Fiddling with your ring finger, you started to speak again. Slowly. Concisely. “When I was ready, I picked a fight. Loud enough for the neighbors to hear. And he came at me with his fist just cocked back, so I pulled my Glock 19 out of my purse. I shot him.”

Spencer tried to interject. “It was self-defense. He was attacking you—”

“That's what I told 911 as he was struggling to breathe on his kitchen floor. That's why the police never charged me. I’m a lawyer, I know how to plead.” You closed your eyes. “But I... after I hung up, I... I shot him two more times.” 

Cat was glowing, spinning around to face Spencer. “Wow, you really have a type, don't you? Quite a dilemma, too. She just admitted to murder.” 

Spencer was in disbelief. “She'll beat it.” . 

“Probably. But whatever feelings she might have still had for you, and whatever Maxine might have seen in you—-it’s all gone.” 

The phone in your hand buzzed.

“Oh, wow. Look at that. Your sister. Alive and well. You're welcome.” 

Your face hardened up, and you stood up straighter. Walking away from the two of them, you opened the door. “I got it.” 

She took the phone from your hand and you turned back to the two of them. There was no emotion behind your eyes as you looked back at Spencer. 

Cat smirked and looked up at Spencer. “I win.” 

______________________________________________________________

The prison transport was quiet, with the two guards sitting across from Spencer and Cat. It had been silent for about twenty minutes, but then, Cat spoke up. 

“Do you know why I did this? Why I really did this?” 

Spencer looked down at his hands. “You wanted to prove I'm a monster just like you.”

“No... Silly. I just wanted to see you again. I just wanted to make sure that you would never forget about me.” She sighed. “'Cause when they do put that needle in my arm, I just want there to be even the slightest chance that... Maybe you're still thinking about me…”

Spencer stiffened as she placed her head on his shoulder. “You didn't have to terrorize 3 innocent people. You could've just written a letter.” 

“Would you have written me back?” 

When Spencer didn’t respond, Cat knew her answer. 

“Bye, Spencie. I really enjoyed our date.” She smiled at him desperately, getting dragged out of the vehicle by the guards to the prison. 

______________________________________________________________

The elevator door opened and Spencer walked out of it, his whole body reeked of defeat, and he barely looked at Emily as she spoke.  “We need to debrief.” 

Spencer just walked right past her, and into the bullpen. His expression changed when he saw you on one side talking to Tara, and Max on the other, looking up at him right as he walked in. 

“Spencer, are you okay?” 

Her voice caught your ear, and immediately you looked up to see her walk over and embrace him in a hug. 

He smiled at her, and grateful returned the hug before muttering that he would be back, and explain everything.

You were never going to get back together with Spencer, but watching it in real time was like unlacing an old wound. 

Spencer walked over to you, and you stood up as he approached. 

“Uh, Tara, would you mind giving us…”

She nodded at him and walked away. 

Both of you went to speak, trying to say something to the other. 

“I should explain all of this.” 

Spencer shook his head. “You don’t have to explain any of that Y/n—it doesn’t.” 

You cut him off. “It was fake—most of it. I didn’t kill anyone, Spence. I was just lying to her to get her to send the text from my phone. It was all…It was made up.” 

He just nodded, staring at you really. 

You gave him a soft smile, and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. Both of you could feel the pulse between it, making you remove your hand and take a small step back. 

“Thank you for saving my sister and father.” 

Spencer watched your resolve fully formed, masking whatever you were feeling. He hated watching it happen to him, watching as you placed whatever feelings you had back into somewhere he couldn’t find. 

Garcia walked over and placed a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “I just need you both to know, Cat Adams had a miscarriage, but it was months after whatever encounter you had. It’s not your fault. We looked at her records.” She was speaking low for you both, yet both of you let out a quiet sigh of relief. 

“They filled me in on everything that happened between both of you in the past couple years, and they asked me if I would be willing to…help them beat her.” 

Spencer looked up at you, and unlike yourself, every single emotion Spencer was feeling was racing across his face. 

He didn’t like that you knew about everything that had gone down. He was so happy you were okay. He was a little impressed by the way you beat Cat at her own game. He was upset that you put yourself in danger. 

“They gave me an ear piece and everything.” 

Spencer shook his head. “You’re not trained—that’s extremely dangerous of you.” 

You sighed and nodded. “Unfortunately Spencer, this is…this was the life I was used to when we were together. I knew the stakes. I mean the briefings I had with Hotch after you relapsed…” 

Spencer just clammed up and stood a bit straighter. “ I never knew..”

“It was like that on purpose. I didn’t want you to think that you were a burden or too much or—I was doing it for the potential of…” You cut yourself of, flinching at the parallels between this and your previous final conversation. 

You looked over at Garcia. “I need my bag Pen.” You whispered, taking a step away from Spencer. “I shouldn’t…I finished my job. My family is safe…” 

She had a rueful look on her face, but she nodded and took your arm, walking you back over to the desk where your stuff was. 

He looked up at Emily and walked over to her. “I’m…uh. I’m gonna go walk her out and then I’ll be right back.” 

Emily gave him the saddest smile, and just nodded. She knew that nothing she could say could make it any better. 

You grabbed your coat, and your bag, and the two of you walked to the elevator in silence, riding it all the way down to the parking garage, where your car was still there from this afternoon, all of those hours ago. 

You looked over at Spencer, tears in your eyes, having not said anything to him. 

As soon as he met your eyes, you dropped your bag, and Spencer wrapped his arms around you tightly, just holding you and resting his head on yours; trying to give you the comfort that he was rarely able to give you. 

Sobbing into his arms, you just tightly wrapped your arms around his torso and just held onto him tightly. Trying to decompress, trying to truly understand everything that had happened in the past twelve hours. 

It was Spencer who spoke first. 

“I’m so so sorry Y/n.” He whispered. “I never meant any of this to happen to you, and for you to get dragged back here and—” 

You shook your head slightly, but didn’t move from where you were. Neither of you did. 

“It’s what she wanted, Spence, and unfortunately for us, this was always bound to happen.” You whispered. 

The hug felt so good, but something about it was just so different. 

It’s not the way it used to be. 

“I need to go Spencer.” 

He nodded, and this time you moved away from him. His hand came up and wiped away one of the remaining tears on your cheek. 

You closed your eyes, and took a deep breath. 

“Oh fuck, why is this so fucking hard four years later.” You laughed, trying to regain any sort of composure. 

“Y/n…”

You took another step away from him and shook your head. 

“We can’t—I’m not.” You tried so hard to find the right words without bursting into tears again. “Spencer. I cannot put myself back to where I was four years ago. I can’t do it. And yes things have changed, but maybe that is for the better. Maybe you were always meant to be my maybe, and not my always.” 

You took another breath, but kept going. “You are amazing, and funny, and so smart Spence. But this…we ran our course. It didn’t work then, and I don’t know if I have it in me to try again just for it to fail.” 

“Y/n please.” 

“I will always love you but this…It’s time to…It’s time to stop. I have to go back to my life, and you go back upstairs to yours, with Prentiss and Rossi and Penelope and…Max.” 

Both of you winced as you said her name, but you took a step forward, moving to kiss him on the cheek. 

Spencer gently grabbed you face, giving you enough time to back out. 

You didn’t. 

His lips locked with yours, his thumb rubbing against your cheek as the two of you shared one more moment, just for the two of you. 

But it had to end. 

You couldn’t go back to the anxiety, the arguing, the petty disagreements. It wasn’t good for you. It was good for either of you. 

Stepping away again, you gently kissed his cheek, and started to slowly walk to your car. 

Right as you got to your car, you turned around and made eye contact with him one last time before the elevator doors closed, both of you with the most gut wrenching smile slightly plastered across your faces. 

You mouthed goodbye, unable to speak it out loud, and he nodded, tears filling his eyes as he whispered it back to you. 

The doors shut. 

You were all alone in this hollow parking garage. 

Your heart was aching, burning. 

But there was a sigh of relief, that came with the doors closing, and saying goodbye for the last, last time. 

[casually-eat-my-soul]

I keep thinking about jealous pining desperate Stiles and Derek

But like specifically Stiles Seeing Derek kiss someone else.

Stiles goes to visit Derek at his loft and he walks into a scene from a hallmark movie. Derek is kissing some random women under fairy lights to the back drop of a sunset. Stiles feels like someone plunged their hand through his heart and infected with body with ice. He genuinely feels sick to his stomach.

Derek looks down at said person with a soft smile, thinking that this time he can be safe. Before turning and seeing Stiles. They lock eyes and stiles is so visibly distraught. Like in the “where’s my dad scene”. One tear sliding down his face, hands clenched, grasping at his chest as if to rip his heart out.

And Derek knows he fucked up, but he doesn’t know how. All he sees is Stiles in distress and he needs to fix it. Stiles base scent has changed in a split second, now deeply intertwined with misery. He immediately moves from his love interest towards Stiles. But Stiles won’t let Derek comfort him. When Derek grasps his wrists, He tries to pull away.

Stiles is inconsolable at this point, choking on his sobs, barely able to breathe, barely able to see. This only makes Derek more desperate, he’s trying to pull stiles into a hug but Stiles keeps fighting him. Derek’s mind is racing with an explain on why stiles is falling apart in front of him. He thinks of Scott and the sheriff, praying that they are both still alive. He’s now genuinely begging stiles to let him help, to tell him what’s wrong, but stiles keeps pushing Derek away.

Derek’s love interest moves to help but stiles screams when she touches him. In his shock Derek stumbles away from Stiles, but not before ripping her arm off of Stiles.

The room freezes as the both of them are just staring at each other, stiles still sobbing, Derek shaking with adrenaline or fear he doesn’t know. Before Stiles turns and runs out of his loft.

And then nothing is like it used to be. Not like the summer they spent together, not even like the days of when they first met. Stiles is so different with him. Derek can’t remember the last time he saw stiles smile, or his eyes. All he can see is the eyebags that match his own and bitten bloody lips. He barely speaks to Derek and when he does is tone is soft and flat. They no longer banter back and forth with each other exchanging friendly insults. He is a ghost of the stiles that Derek knew.

Stiles doesn’t reach out and touch him anymore, not in camaraderie or comfort. Derek’s skin is devoid of stiles scent. His scent hasn’t changed from that night, now overcome with depression, pain, and tears. But even so Derek would still prefer to carry it with him. Derek feels like he is watching stiles die.

And Derek is ripping his hair out of his skull. He going insane. He has tried to talk to stiles but at meetings Stiles wouldn’t even look at him, and the Stilinski house has been lined with wolfsbane.

He goes to Scott and Lydia for advice, or understanding, fuck at this point he’d even take a stupid riddle. But scott just twists his lips in disappointment while Lydia glares at him with more hatred than she does Peter. Which is really saying something.

Derek is getting more frantic as days pass and nothing changes. It’s starting to affect the pack. The betas are more snappy and uncomfortable. Derek, himself is having a had time keeping his shift under control. Anger isn’t helping, if only it’s making it worse, more feral.

This costs Derek.

One night when the pack is fighting the next big bad. Derek’s sleepless nights and being distracted nearly gets him killed. He only wishes he could go back to that day, he would spend it, from sunrise to sunset with Stiles. Just making him laugh and smile.

The last thing he sees before he collapses is Stiles eyes in the moonlight, glistening with tears, same as that night. Beautiful all the same. But still Derek smiles. He is at peace knowing that this will be the last thing he sees.

But he wakes up, and all he has of stiles is traces of his scent on his skin. Derek roars in anguish. He can feel his betas trying to hold him down, he can hear them screaming but it all fades to white noise. He understands nothing at this current moment but loss. His wolf won’t stop howling.

He doesn’t fight the pull of the wolf, as he falls under his instincts. At the back of his head he knows that the people he is fighting are his pack mate, his own betas. The smell of blood affronts his senses. But nothing can be felt but violent grief.

The wolves in his den are wary and hesitant to fight him, as they should be. He can hear more wolves coming, and the deafening heartbeat of prey. He snarls at the prey that moves closer to him, fulling intending the go for the kill. As he pounces on the prey pressing him to the ground, teeth reaching to sink into his neck, he feels Stiles hands on his chest and he stops. The scent of Stiles is all around him, and Derek presses his face to his neck. Keeping Stiles pinned to the ground.

Thus way stiles cannot escape, cannot leave Derek grappling with the thought of losing him. Another wolf tries to get closer, reaching for stiles but Derek snarls at him. Stiles talks to the wolf, —

“Don’t worry about it Scotty, I got it from here”

“You sure dude?”

“Yeah, take the wonder trio and get out of here. We’re good.”

— as Derek pulls him into his lap, face still pressed into the junction between neck and shoulder. Not even willing to miss even the vibrations of Stiles voice. The wolves leave and Derek can finally relax and enjoy the presence of Stiles.

Derek feels overwhelmed, after weeks of not interacting with Stiles he is now surrounded by him. His hands run through Derek’s hair, his voice floats in the air, his scent finally intermingling with his own. This idea of losing the heat of stiles body pressed against his, makes Derek pull stiles even closer.

He doesn’t know how long they sit together but when he comes out of the fog. Derek breaks. A complete reversal of the night he lost stiles. Derek is crying in ernest, pleading and apologizing over and over again. Stiles is hesitant when he places his hands on Derek cheek. But when Derek leans into it Stiles begins to wipe the tears from his face.

They both face each other with open expressions. Stiles struggles to finds words to explain to Derek but all he can get out is a broken repeat of Derek’s own apology.

Derek felt as if his heart couldn’t know anymore pain, but as Stiles choked out an apology he could feel another piece break. Derek was just relived that stiles was finally letting him comfort him. Derek pressed their foreheads together and took a deep breath. Waiting for stiles to following along with his breathing. When they both calmed down stiles Slumped exhausted into his chest. With a heavy limbs Derek picked him up and carried him to the bed. Derek’s bed.

Neither of them need to speak durning this time. Derek was reluctant to set Stiles down, to let go for even a second. Instead he settled for watching Stiles as they both undressed and fell into the bed. Finally after weeks of sleepless nights, unrest and nightmares, they both full asleep wrapped in each others arms.

Derek refuse to open his eyes when he awakes. Afraid that when he does, Stiles will be gone and this would be a cruel dream. So he keeps them closed even when he hear Stiles breathe hitch. Even as he hears his heartbeat pick up. Even as stiles trails his fingers over Derek’s face. But he does open them as stiles presses a kiss to his lips.

Derek kisses him back just as fiercely. And this leads to teary confessions — “Don’t fucking lie to me Derek please, I can’t take it, don’t fucking kiss me out of pity.”

“Never out of pity, Mi Vida, I never wish to part from you even again, I love you, Mieczyslaw, truly. I can finally breathe again.” — They spend the day in bed, only leaving to eat. Even then they are always touching the other in some way.

After this Scott and Lydia pull Derek aside and threaten him with extreme violence. Peter joyfully welcomes stiles to the family.

(Honestly this was a whole train wreck. I also had another idea/version where this was happening during the nogistune. Where Stiles goes over to Derek’s loft as the darkness around his heart fills heavier that day and he sees Derek kiss someone else. The this is what finally pushes stiles over and allows the nogistune to fully take over. And Derek is forced to listen to the fox gleefully tell him that this action nearly broke Stiles. That while turning feral Derek has to learn that his actions cost him another person he loves. That because of this stiles and Derek are turning into twisted version of themselves. But honestly a fox should have never underestimated how far a wolf would go for their mate)

My bad for the long post but if you made it to the end, welcome to the trenches and suffering in the misery with me.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Logan and his Sugarbaby? Just that grumpy fuck being domesticated

Sunday. Rain drops fell against the windowpanes.

And Logan clenched a cigar between his teeth as he graded papers and listened to the rapid flutter of your keys on your laptop. He'd rather be fucking you.

But.

He told you you couldn't move from that spot until you finished your homework. And he meant it. You were too smart to just be a brainless little fucktoy, even if treating you like one when he was stressed out did wonders for his blood pressure.

The typing stopped and your brow furrowed. He can see you reading back what you just wrote, chewing on your lip. Second guessing yourself for what feels like the 100th time in 20 minutes and he sets down his pen, "Give it here, bub," he ordered.

"It's not-"

He quirked an eye brow and held out his hand with a soft growl, leaving you no room to argue. And you hand it to him reluctantly, pressing your lips together as he scrolled back to the top of you paper and scanned it. Ignoring the fact that you're squirming and trying not to fidget. It was good. Really good, in fact. It flowed together and made sense. Sure, it needed a little bit of polish but it wasn't like some of the garbage he'd seen pass as academic writing before. "Princess," he said smiling a little, "you're doin' fine. Breathe."

"Ugh, I hate this fucking class."

"I know," he said, "You've been whining about it all month. Just pass and you never have to do it again."

"I just know I'll turn this in and he'll find 40 things wrong with it," you murmur.

"But there's nothing wrong with it," he said, eyes narrowing. You were a smart kid. You could hold your own. It's how you GOT this far on your own- why he kept you around. He was too old for someone who needed constant hand holding. "What'd he say to you?" Logan growled.

You'd been 'off' all week. Not his girl. Distracted. He thought it was just school but something was eating at you.

"It's not a big deal," you answer, taking the laptop back and exhaling slowly. "Like you said I just have to-"

"Y/N," he said dangerously, "what did he say to you? Last week? When you went to office hours?"

You take a deep breath and flex your hands, "That if I didn't spend so much time whoring my self out to freaks I wouldn't have so much trouble understanding the class." You cringe away from the words, your whole face folding in disgust. "I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want-"

"You didn't want to hurt me," he finished, keeping his tone careful. He was furious. But. Not at you. As he looked at you trying not to cry, afraid to look at him as you nodded, it was all he could do to keep the claws sheathed. His girl. His Princess was trying to protect him and that wasn't her job. And hell if he was going to let some scum bag tank her career just because he didn't like that she was getting laid and a little spending money for her aggravation.

[perfectsunlight]

[25] TRENDING

warnings: arguments, major angst, public pressure, panic attack

"why did you have to make it a big deal?” ivory groaned as jennie dragged her through the crowd, frustration boiling over. she yanked her arm out of her mother’s grip, glaring at her. “it was just one night! one drink!”

jennie spun around, her eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. “one drink? is that what you think this is about? ivory, there were cameras! people were recording! do you have any idea what could happen if that video gets out?”

ivory crossed her arms, defiant. “i can deal with my own issues, you don’t need to control everything around me.” the younger girl protested, still clearly visibly upset.

“i’m not trying to control you,” jennie replied, her voice strained and pointed, “i’m trying to protect you! this isn’t just about you having a good time. do you know what it’s like to have your every move scrutinized? how one wrong step can ruin you? i lived through it, it destroyed me, and i’m not going to let that happen to you!” 

“i’m not you!” ivory shot back, her voice rising. even in the dark, jennie could see the emotions painted on her daughter’s face. “i’m not going to make the same mistakes you did. you didn’t even raise me!”

jennie froze at her words, the accusation knocking the wind out of her lungs. her breath caught in her throat, but she quickly masked the hurt with a sharp inhale. she kept her composure, but her eyes flickered with an emotion jane hadn’t seen before—something raw, something deeply buried that her daughter had just unwittingly unearthed.

and truth be told, ivory regretted saying those words the moment they left her mouth.

“i tried,” jennie finally responded, her voice quieter now, laced with a trembling vulnerability. “i did everything i could to make sure you didn’t have to grow up thinking you weren’t loved. i did what i could.”

the younger idol clenched her fists, her own anger mixing with guilt, but she couldn’t back down. “you don’t get to use that as an excuse every time you screw up! you weren’t there when i needed you. you were always off somewhere—on tour, in another country, doing fucking photoshoots—while grandma raised me.”

her maternal heart twisted painfully at jane’s words. she knew there was truth in them, but hearing it out loud from her daughter felt unbearable. her voice faltered, but she tried to steady it. “you think i didn’t want to be there? you think it didn’t kill me every time i had to leave you behind? i did it all for you, ivory.”

“yeah, well, i didn’t ask for that!” ivory shouted, her frustration spilling over. “i didn’t ask for you to sacrifice everything for me. i just wanted you! not the fame, not the money, not the gifts—just my mom.”

jennie’s jaw tightened, her emotions swirling just beneath the surface. she wanted to argue back, to defend herself, but she couldn’t. the truth was, there were times when she’d chosen her career over being present, and she knew she couldn’t change the past.

but it still hurt her knowing how much she had failed as a mother.

“we can discuss this later.” jennie’s voice was firm, her words cutting through the noise around them as she reached for her daughter’s arm, pulling her closer. the chaos of the club, the loud music, and the flashing lights all faded into the background as her focus narrowed to one thing: getting ivory out of there before things got worse.

her eyes scanned the crowd around them, trying to find that camera from earlier. but ivory quickly pulled away, her eyes flashing with anger. “no! i’m not leaving just because you say so.” her voice was defiant, sharp with the kind of stubbornness that jennie recognized all too well.

it was like looking into a mirror of her younger self. 

“you will leave. now. let’s go.” the older kim hissed in an icy tone, already getting near the end of her rope. “if that video gets around—”

“let them!” ivory snapped, cutting her mother off. “i don’t care what people think! and i could care less about your reputation.”

finally, her mother felt her frustration boil over at her daughter's dismissive attitude. “you think this is about my reputation?” she demanded, her voice rising in the crowded club, drawing unwanted attention. “this is about you, ivory! about your future! do you have any idea how damaging this could be?”

jane crossed her arms defiantly, her expression a mix of anger and stubbornness. “just because you couldn’t handle it doesn’t mean i can’t!” the words flew out of her mouth before she could think them through, fueled by a rush of adrenaline and resentment.

“really? you want to live your life? like this?” jennie gestured around them at the throng of partygoers, the flashing lights, and the chaos that felt so far removed from what she envisioned for her daughter. “you think this is living?”

but jane was done listening. she pulled away, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd for a way to escape. “i’m not going anywhere with you. you always think you know what’s best, but you don’t. you’re just scared, and you’re trying to make me scared too.”

jennie noticed a few heads turning toward them, whispers circulating through the crowd. people had started to gather, a few phones in hand, potentially recording their fight. panic surged through jennie, urging her to act.

“please, valentine, let’s just go,” jennie pleaded, her voice lowering in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “we can talk about this later. just come with me—”

“no!” ivory shouted again, her voice ringing out against the booming music. “i don’t care what you say. i’m staying, and you can’t force me to leave. maybe i’ll stay right here and let them all see what a bad mother you are!”

the weight of her words felt like a slap, and jennie closed her eyes for a brief moment, willing herself to stay calm. jennie knew she was a bad mother, it was something she had come to accept years ago. hearing it from her own daughter didn’t make it hurt any less, though.

“honey, you’re not thinking clearly. we can’t have this fight here, not like this. please.”

but her daughter shook her head vehemently, a sense of defiance boiling over as she threw her arms up in frustration. maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the years of pent up emotions finally boiling through the surface. either way, the angry soul in front of jennie looked nothing like her daughter.

and for the first time in 18 years, jennie felt as if she was looking in a mirror. except it wasn’t her own reflection, it was his.

“i wish i was never your daughter.” ivory spat, her voice loud enough to make heads turn. the crowd around them murmured, and jennie felt a knot form in her stomach. “so stop acting like my mom because we both know you don’t deserve that title.”

time seemed to freeze as ivory’s declaration reverberated in jennie’s ears, the world around them fading into the background. for a moment, all jennie could see was the hurt radiating from her daughter, and for the first time, she recognized the echo of her own past mistakes in ivory’s anger.

“you don’t mean it.” her mother immediately replied, eyes steeled and hardened against any more words her daughter would throw at her face. but ivory’s face twisted with raw emotion, and her voice was firm. her chest rose and fell harshly, clearly still worked up with emotion. before she brushed past her mother, snapping one final time at her before disappearing into the crowd.

“leave. me. alone.”

—

the video went viral in less than 24 hours. media outlets spread and circulated rumors and interpretations of it in every country and every language. everyone was asking the same thing: is jennie kim a mother?

jennie’s heart raced as her management team formed a protective barrier around her, pushing her toward the gate amidst the chaos. reporters shouted questions from all directions, their cameras flashing like strobe lights.

“jennie! is it true you have a daughter?” one reporter yelled, shoving a microphone in her face. “can you confirm the fight from last night?” another pressed, the crowd surging closer. “where is ivory?” a voice cut through the noise, and jennie felt her stomach drop. the constant barrage of questions felt like an insurmountable weight, pressing down on her while she fought to keep her composure.

jennie could feel panic setting in quickly as she tried to keep moving forward. she could see the gate ahead, but the closer she got, the more overwhelming the situation became. her team urged her on, their voices calm yet insistent, “keep moving, jennie. just keep walking.”

but her thoughts were racing in a different direction. where was ivory? the panic clawed at her insides as she scanned the crowd, desperately hoping to catch a glimpse of her daughter’s familiar figure. each face in the throng blurred together, and the noise grew deafening.

“miss kim, please! can you comment on the video?”

“is it true you’re estranged from your daughter?”

“jennie, do your members know about any of this?”

she felt like she was suffocating, each question a reminder of the distance that had grown between her and ivory. “i can’t—i have to go back!” she managed to shout, but her management was relentless, practically pushing her through the throng as the gate loomed closer.

“no! we’re almost there,” one of her managers urged, keeping his hand firmly on her back. but with every step, the weight of worry grew heavier, anchoring her down. she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was abandoning her daughter, leaving her behind in a city that felt so foreign and chaotic.

“come on, just a few more steps!” another voice chimed in, but all she could think about was how she hadn’t been there for ivory when it mattered most.

they finally reached the gate, and as her team ushered her through the boarding process, she felt a swell of frustration. she wanted to turn back, to break free and search for ivory. but as they pushed her into the plane, she realized she was trapped—both physically and emotionally.

the flight attendants closed the door behind her, and as she settled into her seat, jennie buried her face in her hands, a wave of despair crashing over her. she felt completely helpless, torn between the world’s scrutiny and her desperate need to find her daughter. 

however, what jennie kim didn’t know was that ivory had taken an earlier flight right after leaving her mother in the club. and what the older idol also didn’t know was the mob waiting to crucify her daughter once she touched down in seoul.

—

ivory stood frozen, panic rising like a tide as the crowd surged forward. shouts and jeers rained down, and it felt as if the world had conspired against her. “holy shit,” the teenager muttered under her breath, pulling her cap below her eyes even further. it looked like a light show with how many cameras were going off. 

“form a wall!” one of her managers shouted, urgency lacing their voice. they quickly moved to surround her, creating a protective barrier against the hostile crowd. the team linked arms, shielding ivory from the hateful words and agitated crowd that sought to tear her down.

“back off! give her space!” another manager yelled, pushing back against the onslaught of reporters and fans. the team worked in unison, their presence a solid wall that blocked the chaos, but jane could still hear the shouts cutting through the air.

“why are you hiding behind your mother’s fame?” someone yelled, and it pierced through the clamor, sinking into ivory's chest like a dagger. “fucking brat, you don’t deserve jennie as a mother!”

with her heart racing and breath coming in jagged gasps, ivory felt the walls of her makeshift fortress closing in around her. the air felt heavy, and the shouting, combined with the crushing pressure of the crowd, sent her spiraling further into panic. the team’s efforts to protect her felt futile against the overwhelming tide of animosity.

“i can’t breathe,” she thought to herself, struggling against the tightness in her chest. she dug her nails into her palms, trying to steady herself as her management continued to shout for order. but their voices faded into a blur, the crowd's noise morphing into a deafening roar.

a few objects went flying over her head, thankfully missing her as the management team tightened their formation, creating a more impenetrable barrier around her. ivory’s heart raced as she felt the tension in the air escalate, the crowd growing more volatile with each passing moment. the sound of her own heartbeat pounded in her ears, drowning out everything else.

“i can’t do this,” she thought again, feeling utterly lost. the noise felt like it was suffocating her, each shout morphing into a mocking echo of her own insecurities. “why did i do that?”

as the objects continued to sail over her head, she flinched at the sound of something glass shattering nearby. the world felt chaotic and terrifying, and in that moment, the isolation of her panic attack set in. it was as if a spotlight was focused solely on her, and every eye in the crowd bore witness to her unraveling.

“stay with us, ivory! you’re okay!” one of her managers urged, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, grounding her in reality. their presence was a lifeline, but the overwhelming emotions were threatening to pull her under again.

she wanted to scream, to lash out and throw things back at the reporters and people who tried to harm her. instead, she forced herself to breathe, to take in small gasps of air that felt sharp and painful against her chest. “just breathe, just breathe,” she repeated in her mind, willing herself to find some semblance of calm.

but the crowd wasn’t done. “is jennie your mother? are you ashamed of her?” came another shout, and ivory’s heart sank further. she felt the weight of that question, an accusation that cut deeper than any object thrown her way. 

did they think she was ashamed? did they think she wanted this?

tears streamed down her cheeks as she wrestled with the conflicting emotions inside her. it wasn’t shame she felt, but anger at how everything had spiraled out of control. she was overwhelmed, and she wanted nothing more than to disappear.

and whether or not she wanted to admit it or not, part of her even wanted her mother.

“listen to me, ivory! focus on my voice!” another manager shouted, pushing through the chaos to keep her attention. the urgency in their tone cut through her panic, grounding her even more. “there’s the door right there. the car is already out front!”

the brunette nodded, though the tears continued to flow as they began to guide her toward the exit. the crowd was still shouting, a cacophony of harsh words and intrusive questions. she felt a wave of shame wash over her, but she forced herself to keep moving, her management creating a protective wall around her as they rushed toward the car.

as soon as they reached the vehicle, her body sagged against the cool metal of the door, and she let out a shaky breath. the moment they closed the door behind her, the noise from the outside world faded to a muffled echo, leaving only the sound of her own ragged breathing.

but the reprieve was short-lived. as soon as the car pulled away, the floodgates opened. the panic that had held her captive in the airport spilled over, and ivory broke down, sobs wracking her body. the emotional turmoil she had bottled up exploded in a torrent of grief, regret, and frustration.

and a few short hours later, once jennie touched down in korea, she felt a different type of anger and pain watching the videos of her daughter’s arrival. the phone shook in her hand, her free one holding her pant leg in a vice-like grip. with knuckles of ivory, she immediately called her company while waiting to be let off the plane. the dial tone rang for a few seconds before the other line picked up.

"sue them all. every single one of them."

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CLOSED.

[kirain]

Astarion frowned as he and Tav entered the modest boutique. It was small, but clean; organised. It had an almost rustic charm to it, featuring large windows adorned with delicate lace curtains, which were tied back just enough to let the sun shine through. That was appreciated, as Astarion had grown weary of the dark.

He said nothing as his cheery companion scanned the outfits on the walls, cupping her chin as she considered and rejected each one. Carefully curated as they were, she seemed to be looking for something specific. The soft beams accentuated racks of unique frocks, hand-knitted sweaters, and artisanal jewelry, but she passed them all by.

Why did she bring me to this rundown shack?

Astarion huffed. Has she noticed how old my clothes are? No, she's not that perceptive.

His eyes widened as her finger suddenly pointed at some lingerie behind the shopkeeper's counter. His heart sank.

Of course ... she wants to dress me in something risqué. Expose my body. Why am I not surprised? There's nothing more "sexy" than a vampire, after all. He bit the tip of his thumb, feigning indifference. So in the end, she's just like all the others. A horny, selfish little—!

"No, no! Not that!" she laughed. "The one beside it."

Astarion flinched, trying to hide his shock as the shopkeeper passed her a plain ashmeadow outfit. It wasn't particularly bright or stylish, but the pattern was subtle, casually elegant, and paired with lightweight trousers, likely designed to ease movement.

"What do you think?" she asked, unfolding the pieces for a better view. "Doesn't it look nice and comfy?"

Astarion hesitated. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised every inch. Overall, the outfit was dull, at least compared to his usual garb, but pleasant in all the ways that mattered. It wouldn't grab attention, but it wasn't hideous. It wouldn't make a spectacle of his body, but it would complement his figure, his hair, his eyes. For one brief moment, he felt oddly respected, but he quickly recoiled in mistrust.

Is this a trick?

He quickly waved at the suggestion, bidding the shopkeeper to take the outfit away, but Tav clung to it, staying his hand.

"Wait, what's wrong with it? You don't like it?"

"I appreciate your confidence in me, darling, but I don't think even I could make that dreary ensemble look good. That's something you'd see a pig farmer wearing." He gave her a seductive grin. "Surely you'd like to see me in something more ... exotic."

Disgusting, but I need her protection. Just fuck me, already. Get it over with. Why the song and dance? Why the charade? Am I not being forward enough? Perhaps I should should try the 'lonely bachelor' angle. That tends to work on sensitive women like this.

Tav raised a brow, her confusion genuine, but Astarion didn't believe it. He couldn't.

"No, I just think this suits you," she said.

Astarion scoffed, thrown by her sincerity. There was no hint of sarcasm or trickery in her tone. No indication that she was fulfilling some mundane kink by picking such an outfit. But it didn't make sense. He hadn't been particularly kind to her, and he was only good for one thing: sex. Surely that's what she was after.

"Did you not hear what I said?" he snapped. "That's something a pig farmer—"

"What's wrong with being a pig farmer?" she argued. "They work hard, live free, and dress for comfort."

"And I'll have you know, that outfit is not for farming," the shopkeeper added, visibly offended. "I mean, I suppose you could. It's certainly durable, but it's more for ... sophisticated roving."

"There you go," Tav giggled, harmlessly. "Don't you want to be a 'sophisticated rover', Astarion?"

He pulled back defensively, pursing his lips to hide his fangs. They live free? Dress for comfort? As if I ever had such a choice. She has no idea! His fingers curled into a fist.

"Are you ... mocking me? Is that what this is?"

Am I just a toy to you?! A doll to be dressed up to your liking?!

The air around him felt charged, a palpable tension that made it difficult to breathe. A deep red flush spread across his neck, creeping up towards his pale face. The anger was sudden, but uncontrollable, and he didn't know why.

Calm down, you fool. This is nothing. You've been through worse. He screamed internally. So then, why does it hurt more than usual? Why is it worse when it's her?! I ... I don't want her to see me this way, but I know she does! Who wouldn't?!

"Mocking you?" Tav asked, breaking the silence.

She tilted her head, the simple act pulling Astarion from is raging stupor. Her eyes were innocent, unassuming. And of course they were—he hadn't yet told her the truth about Cazador. The details. The depravity.

Hold on. Is this ... real?

"What are you saying?" she peeped. "I brought you here because of how worn out your clothes are." She pointed at the seams of his waistcoat. "Thin with crooked replacement stitches. I always see you fiddling with them."

Astarion's throat tightened. So she did notice. He tried not to blush.

"I'm sorry if that came off the wrong way. I wasn't trying to insult your clothes, I just thought you might like something new."

"I ... see."

"If you don't like the black and white..." She smiled and gestured to the shopkeeper. "We can order something with colour. Do you take commissions? Can my friend here make alterations?"

Friend?

"He can. And we do indeed sew to order, but it might take a while. I'm down a seamstress this month."

Astarion paused, their voices fading. He looked down at the sleeved tunic and accompanying vest that Tav held close to her chest. It was thick, surprisingly well crafted, and more fashionable than he initially dared to admit. For a moment, he felt his unbeating heart flutter. New clothes. A whole outfit, just for him. He'd forgotten what that felt like. What shopping for anything other than a victim for Cazador felt like.

Against his better judgement, he reached out and rubbed the material between his fingers. Twill. Handcrafted. Warm. He felt a tingle as he realised Tav didn't choose that outfit at random. She'd put a lot of thought into it.

"I want this one."

"Sorry?" Tav said, glancing up at him.

"This outfit." He tugged at the sleeve, gently. "I want this one."

She smiled. "Are you sure? You didn't seem overly thrilled about it a second ago."

"Tch! Well, I changed my mind," he hissed. "What can I say?" His eyes softened. "It's grown on me. Just like your ... annoyingly infectious positivity."

"Alright, alright," she laughed, ignoring his jibe. "Can you ring this up, sir?"

Astarion's back stiffened as she reached for her coin purse. Money, right. That hadn't crossed his mind. As horrible as Cazador was, everything was provided. When allowed to sleep on a bed, it was there. When Cazador's guests wanted wine, it was there. Anything needed to rope in victims was given. He hadn't had to buy anything in nearly two hundred years.

"Wait, I—"

"It's no problem," Tav said, sensing his conflict. "I'm happy to do this."

"But..." He frowned, crossing his arms. "Well, don't expect anything back. If that's what you're after, you're going to be sorely disappointed."

"I don't expect anything back, Astarion." She handed the shopkeeper a roll of gold coins, then turned to him with another tender smile. "I'm just glad to help out a friend."

Astarion stood in silence, his brow twitching. A thought occurred to him—two words he hadn't felt the desire to say in two centuries. Two words he'd almost forgotten. He shifted from side to side, looking anywhere but at her, desperate for an escape from the vulnerability pressing down on him.

But I think she truly means it.

"I..."

His mouth opened, then closed again. He cleared his throat, trying to speak, but the silence lingered. He could tell she expected nothing, but for once he wanted to give a part of himself, by choice. Just a few words. The feeling inside him grew, a swell of gratitude he couldn't quite contain. Finally, he sighed and met her eyes with a smile.

"Thank you."

[charlie-thewitch]

Chapter II

"What are you talking about" Shen Jiu hissed. He does not have the time nor the willingness to entertain this clearly delusional man more than he already has. Honestly, he probably shouldn't have freed his mouth if this is what's coming out of it.

"Gege I know it's been like 20 years or something but you couldn't have forgoten about me, could you? This breaks Didi's poor heart" Said the other, batting his eyelashes like a little mistress asking daddy for a new dress and it's making him sick. Fuck this. Fuck all of this.

"You don't even know my name and this one doesn't have any siblings, so shut up. I'll fucking leave you here if you say another stupid thing" Shen Jiu walks to the corpse of the fat man with a grimace. He would prefert to not do this but the prospect of ruining a nobles day by liberating "the merchandise" is too sweet to pass after all.

Taking the sleeve with just two fingers, Shen Jiu brings it up enough to search inside. Dropping on the ground the knickknacks the man inexplicably had inside. Well, the money he keeps. Shizun is too cheap with her disciples and inns are disgusting while brothels are expensive. He'll need a good night's sleep after this and his prey will be founding it.

"We didn't actually had names" With the keys in hand Shen Jiu walks to the largest cage he can see and passes his founding to the frightened woman inside. Only when she understands what to do and gets to work opening all the cages on sight does he turn around to the nuisance still tied and sitting on the dirty ground. "What?"

"When we lived with mother; we didn't have names. That man-" He said it with so much venom Shen Jiu could for a single moment believe they were siblings after all. "-never let her name us. He was planning on selling us from before we were even born so she 'shouldn't get attached'. She fought him, naturally, but Mother only could do so much... He took you first, I was too sick to be sold just yet"

Shen Jiu is marginally grateful the other slaves ran as soon as they were freed from the cages because he doesn't need reports of what he'll do to this bastard to reach Shizun. A murder outside of the permitted by the mission will look so bad on his already muddy reputation. "Good story, you should write a book" He deadpans.

"It's the truth!" The guy pouts, as if that helps his case at all and doesn't just make him look crazier. "Gege could easily prove we are related with a talisman, couldn't you? I know fancy cultivators have that type of tools just lying around!"

"You want me to believe you remember bullcrap from when 'we' were, what, 4 years old?" Shen Jiu said mockingly

"Gege isn't even denying he was a slave like me" A curious head tilt and Shen Jiu suddenly feels like he's missing something, again. He hates that feeling. "He knows deep down that this Didi is saying something important." That knowing look is pissing him off, but he can't deny felling the littlest bit curious. The guy stole his face, that's undeniable. And a sibling relationship could very well explain it.

But is he ready for the implications? Is he ready to have a family, a fucked up one he is sure, but, family?

Qi-ge Yue Qi used to call them brothers but that didn't stop him at the moment of betraying him for a better life. Is this guy actually interested in Shen Jiu or is this his ploy to be freed? He already saw Shen Jiu give the keys to the others, surely there's no need for him to still be talking to Shen Jiu at all?

Shen Jiu could always just make the test and drop this guy on the streets if it came out negative and... And if it's positive that'll mean there's someone in this world who is his.

There's no way to change one's blood. He knows that very well. His blood may very well be running in this guys veins. An undeniable bond to someone, something unbreakable. This could mean he has a brother, maybe even a mother that... Loved him.

A mother. One that loved this wretched creature. Proff that he didn't came out wrong, twisted.

Is Shen Jiu being too naive? The simple promise of a past loved one has him doubting the most basic instinct of caring for no one but himself. Hope is an ugly thing he thought dead and buried years ago under charred wood and ash.

Shen Jiu returned his gaze to the young man, serious and grave. He can't believe he is doing something so stupid but one thing is true in all street children: If you can take something, do it. And never give anything back. "You will follow me and not say a single word to anyone. Understood? I will have to ask someone back at the sect for a blood testing tool" This guy wants to be his brother? Fine. Let him cope with his horrible personality. Shen Jiu is never diminishing himself for the comfort of others. Never again.

A sly smile is his answer, and he can't quite help the feeling he just got played. "This Didi will do as Gege says..."

Prev - Next (soon)

[yuuuhiii]

yandere themes, knife usage, mdni

a/n: I need to stop watching Dexter (*´ー｀*)

He loved you so so much. His beautiful bestfriend. You were to good for people, definitely to good for this world. In his eyes, no one was ever perfect for your time.

Nobody deserved it.

Not even him.

But he’d tell himself he was an exception since he was your bestfriend.

You were always nice and gentle to everyone that had the luck of talking to you.

But he hated.

Really hated.

When some morons could think they could have even a chance to be with you. Couldn’t they see that was his spot?

He adored the way you’d reject them, he’d like for you to be more mean but you could never do no wrong. And for the people that could ever mistreat you.

He dealt with them himself.

In the dark of the night, letting you know he’d go get you both snacks and you nodded, a kiss to his warming cheek. He feels the remnants of your lips still on his skin, even when he’s on his way to someone’s house.

It was a guy, someone who thought he could touch what was his. He stops at the end of the street, the guy walking into view.

He knows his routine, where he lives, his name and the best part, how to get in. So before the guy can even make it to his house. He’s settling in, the lights are off and a shot of adrenaline shoots through him when he hears the door unlock.

The guy walks in, unbeknownst of his presence on the couch until he turns the light on. He gasps loudly, almost tripping over his kitchen chair. He turns around from his place on the couch.

“Remember me?” He grins, standing up.

“W-What—Get the fuck out of my house!” The guy yells.

He snickers. “I asked if you remembered me.” He walks over to him. He towers over the guy, a psychotic glint in his eyes it has the guy gulping.

“N-No.” He pouts, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Let’s try to remember okay? You saw the most beautiful girl today? You had your hands all over her, making her uncomfortable right?”

The guy nods his head. “I-I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.” He laughs, squeezing the guys shoulder.

“It’s nothing like that. I’m just her bestfriend, I gotta protect her from guys like you.”

He forces the guy to sit down on his own chair. He walks over to the kitchen counter, grabbing a knife. The guy squeaks, shivering in his chair.

“She was really scared you know? It hurt me to see her like that. I never wanna see her scared. It also makes me upset because I feel like I’m not doing my job correctly. So that’s why I’m here. To finish it.” He pokes at the end of the knife.

“Y-You’re fucking crazy!”

The guy takes off in a sprint for the front door. Making your bestfriend sigh. He goes after him and the poor guy isn’t even able to open the door before he’s dragging him back from the collar of his shirt.

“Gosh you don’t have to make this hard you know.” He rubs at his forehead.

“I swear! I didn’t mean to make her uncomfortable! She’s just really pretty—” He nodded along as the guy rambled on, dragging the knife along the guys chest.

“I’ve heard this so many times. Why do you guys always try to justify your actions in the end.” He sucks at his teeth.

“You guys always end up the same either ways. Dead.”

The guys plea’s are white noise in his mind as he plunges the knife in him. It’s always in these moments he feels like something takes over and when he snaps out of it, the work is already done.

He spends some time cleaning up the body. His hands his clothes. Making it look like a murder scene. He curses at himself when he sees the missed calls from you. He dials your number and your pretty voice engulfs his ears.

“Hey, where’ve you been.” He could hear your pout across the line making him smile as he makes his way to his car.

“A lot of the convenience stores are closed so I had to go to one far from your house.” He lies through his teeth.

“Oh ok then.” You murmur and he smiles.

“I’ll be right there ok pretty?” You hum and he hangs up.

When he’s finally back with bags of snacks, you cheer.

“Finally! I missed you.” You say as you throw your arms around his neck. You go to kiss his cheek but spot something.

“Hey what is this?” You swipe your thumb over his cheek, it’s a red stain.

“Huh?” He peers down at your thumb and places the bags on the floor. He laughs and you glance at him confused.

“I might’ve had a little snack without you, it’s ketchup.” You whine and push at his chest but he picks you up, letting you squeal as he places you on your bed.

“It’s fine, I got you all your favorites ok.” He leans in, his breath fanning your lips. It makes you gasp and your eyes lid. He pecks the corner of your mouth, getting off of you and grabbing the bags.

You’re left there on your bed a flushing mess as he hums, sorting out the snacks. You chew at your lip and sit next to him.

“Hey I have a question.” He hums, still taking things out.

“H—How come you don’t kiss me?” He faces you but you’re messing with your hands.

“You’re always calling me names and treating me like your girlfriend. You even scare away guys when they come up to me. But we’re still best friends?” He hates how confused you look.

“C’mere.” He pats his lap and you move to straddle him.

“You want me to kiss you?” He tilts his head and you nod.

His lips are on yours and they’re wasting no time. They’re feverish around yours and if the tv wasn’t on you would’ve payed attention to how loud your guys lips smacked against each others. When he inserts his tongue into your mouth you let out a moan, tugging at his hair. He smiles and pulls away.

“You’ve been waiting for this huh?” You nod quickly.

“I was beginning to think you didn’t feel the same way.” You rest your face on his shoulder. He places kisses on your cheek and down to your neck.

“Oh baby, if only you knew how far I’d go for you.”

YUTA OKKOTSU, KAZUTORA HANEMIYA, HARUCHIYO SANZU, Armin Arlert, Vigilante Deku, Hirofumi Yoshida,

© yuuuhiii 24 : don’t plagiarize, translate, or post my work on other platforms

[fuck-customers]

Had a customer in today that made me feel like I was in the Twilight Zone. I work in the flooring department of a large hardware store. She came up to me and asked me about a problem she has with her flooring. Here's the thing. It was outdoor, landscaped, stone flooring. We deal with flooring exclusively inside the house. This wasn't a "can you tell me which department I would go to" way of asking, by the way, she was expecting me to know and help her with this. I know it wasn't because EVERY SINGLE TIME I told her she would need to go to outdoor garden, she explained her problem again. She wasn't getting annoyed with me passing her off to another department, every time she explained it the exact same way she did the first time. After telling her FIVE TIMES that she's in the wrong department, something finally clicked in her and she acted like that was the first time I said that??? Was I in a fucking timeloop?????

Posted by admin Rodney

[razorblade180]

Capturing the Spark

Weiss:*peeks into music room* Summer, sweetie? I can’t help notice you’re playing the same note for like…ten minutes.

Summer: *plucking string* I’ve reach creative bankruptcy.

Weiss:You’re sixteen. There’s something in there.

Summer:Nothing good.

She points at a decently sized pile of paper on the floor. Weiss takes a look at one and realizes it’s a whole song.

Weiss:Are these originals!? Why are they on the floor!?

Summer:I don’t like how they came out. Weeks and months of revising but they feel mediocre.

Weiss:Says you. A single opinion from a creator is damning in any art form. I could’ve listened.

Summer:You would’ve been too nice and supportive.

Weiss:Summer, I told your father he looked fat in the first tux he chose for our wedding. I will never willingly let you embarrass yourself in front of people.

Summer:…There’s been talk on the radio about my recent songs and concerts. People are saying I’m losing my spark, and they aren’t wrong if I’m being honest. Things feel…different.

Weiss:Could it be because you’re getting healthy?

Summer:Pfft, now you’re making me sound ridiculous. Yes, that’s exactly it. Being on stage feels weird now that I’m not fighting for my life. Is that wrong?

Weiss:Little bit, but I get it. Your life was on the line. Adrenaline was at an all time high.

Summer:Exactly! My body was cold and hot. I had to focus on staying myself while thousands cheered my name and had zero clue I was basically on a battlefield! Now I’m just performing.

Weiss:Haha, and that’s a bad thing? It’s gonna be an adjustment but you still have that spark. You don’t need your life on the line to bring it out. You also need to treat these songs better.

Summer:Mom, they’re garbage. My fans don’t come for me for darker stuff anyways.

Weiss:They are fruits of labor. Sure not all of them will be perfect, but not every song you make will be a hit and don’t have to be. Treat these like your puppy. Don’t throw them away because they’re a little all over the place.

Summer:Where is he right now?

Weiss:Bothering Jaune. Anyways, fuck your haters.

Summer:Wow!

Weiss:I mean it! You are the singer! You can’t make people like your music but you change the audience that fills your seats. They’re called fans because they help make you burn bright.

Summer:….

Weiss:The way I see it, you can change up your style and genre to better capture and represent the raw feelings that give you the spark, or bask in the irony of a crowd that loves you, but can’t fathom the real weight of your performance.

Summer:You’ve done that too!?

Weiss:I’ve written so many songs that come from my feelings being around my abusive father and most people don’t have a clue. We may be the entertainment at a concert, but we both know how easy it is to see the crowd as the real fools.

Summer:Yet when I talk like this, therapy gets mentioned.

Weiss:Hey, I’ve been to it many times. I know exactly who I am, and you will too. One day at a time. You’re not creatively bankrupt. You’re just not cashing in all the ideas you have.

And with that nugget of wisdom, Weiss kisses her daughter on the forehead before leaving her to think on it.

Summer:(Damn it. She’s gonna feel so proud about that line.) *grabs paper*……

xxxxxx

Weiss:*walking down stairs* I’m back. How’s the puppy?

Jaune:*holding him up* Air jail. Did you solve the one note wonder?

Weiss:Yeah, but it’s gonna get louder in sec-

🎶VVVVVRRRREEEERRRRR🎶

Both of them looked up as the sound of a distorted and almost wailing guitar started singing wildly. Jaune looked at his wife to see her casually head banging with a smug face. They weren’t even sure if the notes lead to something or if their daughter was simply going for it.

Weiss:It’s been awhile since I heard a eulogy like this.

Jaune:A eulogy?

Weiss:Can’t you hear it? It’s for the death of a pop star as we know her.

[twsted-idiot]

yall. @/dannysdreamgirl / @/studyandtamper (on discord) is a fucking proshipper and actually disgusting!! (I'm not blaming whoever invited her, because I'd assume whoever didn't know about this, just wanted to make this known ^_^)

Runs a mdni blog, that's fine, but then you join a server with SEVERAL minors?? Yes, most of us are 16-17 but are still legally minors, so that's irrelevant.

These are all from intros in the server from MINORS

Technically, nothing actually wrong with that..but it's still extremely fucking weird, yeah??

Then there's also this shit... about Nancy SAing Johnny and now it affected him or whatever. That's fucking disgusting, biologically her kid or not, and not something she would do.

That alone is genuinely gross and sickening, and then there's the repeatedly interacting with a KNOWN proshipper in the fandom.

They're deactivated because they actually got called out on their shit, as they should because that's nasty. Blood related or not, the family, shocker I know, SEES each other as FAMILY n guess what, incest isn't a normal thing. It's not cute, or funny, you're gross and actually need help.

"Proshipping's a coping mechanism" it shouldn't be. Yeah, cope with whatever however you see fit for yourself, no one can stop you, but this isn't a coping mechanism, you're just using it as an excuse to be fucking vile. Posting that publicly makes younger people think it's okay as well, and the cycle continues. "Fiction doesn't affect reality" except when it does, your brain can become conditioned to think something's okay when it's very clearly NOT.

This shit?? Why. Genuinely why?? Maybe let's not push our GROSS fetishes onto characters, especially not PUBLICLY.

There's other things too, I'm not going to continue to go through that disgusting blog to find it all though.. because then we'd be here forever.

[fanfic-writer-and-rambler]

Jason: Kill him. Batman: No. Jason: Kill him. Batman: No. Jason: Kill him! Batman: No! Joker: Can I kill myself to escape this nightmare of awkward father son tension? Jason and Batman: Shut up! Jason: Ignore me, like you did when I died, what about the countless lives he’s taken, what about Barb, what about the shit he’s put all of us through for some sick joke? And if you didn’t want to do it because of those reasons, what about me? I wanted to ignore this but he took me away from you! Why not vindicate me? I thought I was your son! Joker: Guess you weren’t that close. Jason snacks Joker with the crowbar a fifth time. Jason: Shut. The. Fuck. Up! Back to you, when I saw the bomb tick down, I accepted it. I accepted my death... I thought when I died, you'd kill him. Then I wake up and he's still alive. Why? Batman: I’ve contemplated torturing Joker in a private area. Make him feel pain from every nerve in his body, make it so that when I finally killed him I savor the light leaving his… eyes. But I don’t want to go to that dark place because that won’t fix crime. Jason: Stop joking. Batman: I'm not. Jason: You have to be. Batman: When have I ever joked with you in this suit?

Jason: It's not too late, because you can't be serious. It literally would fix one thing.. Him! Joker: Can you tell me what type of torture methods you’d perform on me? I might need to use those later. Jason points to Joker with his gun. Batman: If I kill I would never go back. I would kill the next one like him. Jason: Then fucking do that! You can't be arrested. You are friends with commissioner Gordon, who by the way, Joker shot his fucking daughter. You shot his daughter right? Joker: Yeah. Jason: Okay, so should I shoot him or do you want to? Batman: Joker would have to do something insanely unforgivable to make me kill him. Jason: ...He tricked my mom into handing me over and killed me. Horribly tortured me. Just want you to know I was legally dead for a time. Batman: That's different. Jason: Different how? Batman: You're here now.

Jason looks around. Jason: Am I on a hidden camera show? Because you did not say that as a defense. You can't be serious! Batman: It’s not right! Jason: Why? Go ahead tell me, why is it wrong to kill him and for me to kill irredeemable criminals. I'll wait, I have the detonator. Batman: Because when my parents died, I learned all life is valuable. Jason: Joseph Stalin. Batman: Okay, I - Jason: Charles Manson. Batman: Hold on, now he was- Jason: Jim Jones. Batman: Well they volunteered. Jason: Adolf Hitler, the Nazi soldiers who knowingly participated in the extermination of Jews and the ones who escaped to Brazil. Joker: I know I'm the one possibly dying, but he brought up a couple good examples. Batman: No, wait, because that's not the same. Joker is not the same as them. Jason: Okay, I will cancel out the world dictators and Manson. I'll do that... Jeffrey Dahmer, Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Wade Wilson! Batman: ... Jason: And again him torturing and killing your son isn't the line?

Batman: I told you not to fall for your mother's tricks. Jason: Are you resorting to gas lighting? While I have a bomb? We're doing that?! Batman: All I'm saying is when you got brought back you killed left and right. Jason: Yes, rapists and murderers. I don't kill shoplifters. Batman: Hypocrite. Jason: A shoplifter has a reason and doesn't go about killing someone. What rapists have you met that had a reason? Because rapists aren't redeemable, they're free game. Batman: Okay, last I checked murder is wrong! Jason: Yeah, it is! Jason points his gun Joker. Batman: ...A criminal is a criminal. I treat them all the same. Jason: Let's talk about Selina Kyle. Batman: Let's not do this. Jason: She gets a pass when she's attacked people to escape. If a criminal is a criminal then why isn't she in prison? Because she meows at you? Because you unironically like when she hits you with a whip? Because she talks in a fake sultry voice? I want to know why does she get a pass? Why Black Mask walks? Joker walks? Mr. Freeze walks? Tick tock detective. Batman: ... Jason: It bothers you, doesn't it? That I'm doing a better job at you? That I'm taking on businesses of the crime ridden area because I can admit that crime will never stop? That I kill murderers and rapists? Batman: It doesn't bother me... I just don't want you to do this. Jason: I'm not asking you to kill Selina or Riddler or Mr. Freeze. I want you to kill him. I'm not even mad at you for not stopping my death, I forgive you on that, but for the love of God, kill him! Please. I am begging you! Do you see this? I am begging you! Batman: I can't. I'm sorry. Jason: Okay you have two options. I kill Joker or... You kill me. Jason tosses Batman a gun that the man catches with ease. Batman: I regret the day I let you into my life... Not because of your fault, but my own. I gave you a good life with the life of a hero. So I won't kill him. I'm sorry. Jason: Hm... I guess you'll watch me kill him. This is great, I always wanted this moment with us. Jason grabs Joker and aims the gun at the cackling psychos head. Jason: I’m going to enjoy this! Batman: Dodge! Jason: What? Batman tosses a batarang at Jason’s neck, impaling it in the man's neck. Jason drops the gun and Joker in shock and pain as blood splurts out of his neck wound. Jason: You threw a batarang… at ME?! Batman: Oh shit, shit, shit! You were supposed to dodge! Jason: You pulled a Piccolo on me!? Batman: I thought you would dodge. I shouted dodge! Jason: You thought I would read your damn mind, toss Joker aside, dodge and then not shoot him. Batman stays silent. Jason and Joker: Oh my God you did. GREAT, NOW I'M AGREEING WITH HIM! Jason yanks the Batarang out of his neck. He looks at the Batarang, silent and shaking. Jason: You know... maybe in a few years we can laugh about this, but for...I'm sorry too. Jason presses the detonator managing to escape along with Batman. Joker is crushed by the debris of the buildings, but alive.