#this is almost worse than the time a rando walked in on me giving a presentation that ranked how fuckable the G7 leaders are

[transgenderificationbeam]

I found some pre-transition photos of myself on a flash drive while hanging out with some friends and one of them said that I looked like the female equivalent of a middle school boy who’s weirdly into WWII and like

just call me a slur at that point holy shit

[hyukasmiles]

frat boy txt who saw u from far away at a party and knew they had to have you

—Tomorrow x Together—

Description: This is just the older members. I will probs do Tae + Hyuka’s version

Fem Reader

Warnings: NSFW// virginity loss// unprotected sex// oral (f)// sex in public spaces// NOT PROOFREAD

—

•Yeonjun•

Frat Boy! Yeonjun is the WORST. And not in a funny way- no he’s horrible. The type to haze freshman pledges and dare drunk guys to jump off a five story building.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who sees you slip into his house party behind your friends and pulls the first guy he can to the side, “I bet you a hundred dollars I’ll fuck her tonight.” The man laughs him off, telling him you’re a notorious prude. “You mean like she’s saving herself for marriage? Two hundred.”

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who slips his arm over your shoulder and gets to work. He spends the whole night complimenting you, handing you drink after drink, slowly dropping his hand down your body until it’s resting on your hips.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who gets you halfway to his room before you start to push back on him. “Hold on- I’m saving myself.” You pout.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who was prepared for this, pushing you up against the wall. “I thought we really hit it off babe… I was hoping to see you again after tonight… You don’t like me? Cause I like you.” He's saying so much to you and your brain is so fuzzy from all the drinks that you find yourself nodding along.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who beams at you as you mumble., “You really like me?” He nods and leans in to leave a soft peck on your lips. “Sure thing, angel.” You bite your lip and lean against the wall. “Ok.”

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who wastes no time getting you in his bed, slipping your dress down your body as he pushes you into his mattress.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who’s surprisingly loving. He kisses down your body, leaving little bites and hickeys in wake. You part your legs for him so easily and he fits in between them even easier.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who doesn’t think to prep you. “This is still ok?” And when you nod he lines himself up and sinks in with a groan. You suck in a breath at the stretch, eyes watering as you try your hardest not to whine. “You gotta relax, sweet thing.” He breaths while trying to shove the rest of him into your tight cunt.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who almost cums when he finally bottoms out, which is weird- he’s never been sensitive like this. You look up at him with doey eyes, a mix of excitement and fear knits your eyebrows together and leaves your mouth agape.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who fucks your goey cunt so good, makes you gush around him as he drills into you. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He breathes, lifting one of your legs up and resting it on his shoulder. “You’ll always compare guys to me after this right?” He leans in to kiss you on the cheek, stretching you open in the process. “I gotta be good then.”

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who does make you feel so good. He makes you feel- eyes roll back into your head, toes curling, drool slipping out of your mouth- good and you love it. And so does he.

Frat Boy! Yeonjun who cums inside of you because he knows you won’t tell him no, ready to go get his money and dump you off on one of your friends but then he takes a step back and looks at you sprawled out on his bed and part of him loves it. A large part.

•Soobin•

Frat Boy! Soobin who was just dumped and doesn’t want to be at this party because he knows his ex will be here, and he knows she’ll be all over some rando, and that she’ll make sure he sees her. But he comes any because the only thing worse than letting her do that is giving her the satisfaction of winning.

Frat Boy! Soobin who has a plan. He just needs to find some hot girl to attach to for the night, give his ex a taste of her own medicine, and when he sees you walk in he knows it’s going to be you. You’re perfect, way prettier than his ex and more importantly, her friend.

Frat Boy! Soobin who walks up to you, grabs you by the wrist, and pulls you into the less crowded backyard. “What are you doing, Soobin?” You laugh and the sound is so pretty he almost forgets what he’s trying to do. He can see his ex in his peripheral vision, sitting on one of his classmates' laps. “I need your help.” He mumbles, grabbing your hips and pulling you toward him. “You gotta act like you’re really into me.” He leaves a ghost of a kiss on the corner of your mouth. “My girlfriend broke up with me, I wanna make her jealous.”

Frat Boy! Soobin who’s surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck, sure you we're going to push him away by now. “She’s a major bitch.” You laugh, “Y’know what will really get her? Eat me out in the bathroom, I’ll make sure she sees.”

Frat Boy! Soobin who agrees to it. No questions asked. He actually pulls you toward the bathroom. He doesn’t care how you’re going to show her, he just wants it to happen.

Frat Boy! Soobin who pushes you against the wall tile and sinks to his knee. He pushes your skirt up your body and actually licks his lips when he sees the wet patch forming your underwear. He kisses your clit through the pink cotton and then slips them down to your knees, hard in his pants as he dives in.

Frat Boy! Soobin who is great at eating pussy, sucks on your clit and draws light circles on your opening. He has your legs shaking as you grab your phone, snapping a couple pictures of him and sending them off to his bitch of an ex. By the time they’re delivered your knees are starting to buckles. You twist to grab onto the sink next you, moaning as he laps at your cunt.

Frat Boy! Soobin who hears the bathroom door fling open, and his ex yelling at him but he can’t stop, he wants you to cum. He feels something hit his back and the door slams and all he does is grab onto your legs to keep you up right. Your thankful for the extra support, you cannot believe his ex broke up with someone this good at head.

Frat Boy! Soobin who sinks two fingers into you and whines when you pull at his hair in response. “You’re so good at this!” You whine, hunching over as he gets you closer and closer. “So good.”

Frat Boy! Soobin who whines at your words, sending shocks of pleasure up your body, finally pushing you over the edge. “She saw?” He mumbles, knowing the answer just not wanting to leave. “You’re sure?” He kisses your thigh when you nod, still out of breath.

Frat Boy! Soobin who moves to stand up but you push down on his head while he does. He looks up at you confused- but then you spread your legs a little wider and mumble “better we’re both sure.” and he’s back in your cunt before you can finish speaking.

•Beomgyu•

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who is loud and always doing something stupid. Unless of course you’re at the party, then he’s loud and glued to your side. “Hey baby.” He’s so excited to see you, wrapping you up in a hug. “Did you finish studying?” All his friends sigh and leave, knowing how this will end.

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who any other night would be taking bets on whether or not he can do a keg stand, but when you take time from studying to come to a party his whole world becomes about you. “Are you tired? Do you wanna leave?” He mumbles, kissing you softly. “I know you have that test tomorrow.” You just smile and pull him in for another kiss. “I’m ok, baby, I’m here to party, you don’t need to do all of this.” You say the same thing every time but he can’t help it.

Frat Boy! Beomgyu whose behavior is such a 180 that the freshman boys start asking him if he’s got a headache or something. “No, I just miss my girl.”

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who is usually the last person to leave parties, most of the time he stays over whatever pledges house it is, but when you’re stood in front of him looking so pretty all he wants to do is go back to your dorm and fuck you. He makes it well known too, grabbing your hand and pressing it against his hard on multiple times throughout the night.

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who can only wait so long, pulling you into a dark corner of the empty laundry room. “I gotta fuck you baby.” He whines, picking you up and setting you on the washer. “I know.” You reply, spreading your legs for him.

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who always fucks best like this, rushed and as quiet as possible, even if it’s impossible for him to be quiet. His thrusts are deep and strong, broken whines spilling out of your mouth as he plays with your puffy clit. He goes as far as to press a hand over your mouth even if he’s the one who’s making all the noise.

Frat Boy! Beomgyu who gives you a mind shattering orgasm and goes back to the party like nothing happened. Except now he’s pumped up, going back to being as loud as usual, grabbing the first person he sees and betting them he can shotgun a beer faster. All while you sit crumpled on the couch trying to ignore the cum dripping down your thigh.

—-

Inbox always open 🫶

[abcdosaka]

the life update 2.0

the unformatted stream of consciousness edition

i started working on monday. it's alright, been connecting with ppl, not being overly shy but i'm still adjusting to actually working 8 hours straight bc i've been doing legit nothing for 5 months straight. the people at my workplace are nice enough especially the ladies like there's one who i was lowkey scared of bc she kinda has a rbf and just looks so girlboss and professional but i messaged her and we talked and she's actually really nice :) anyway i've had enough work experience being the new guy and onboarding online that i'm not as scared as i would've been + i already know people at this company so i can kinda show my worth from the start

i got my period on friday and i was fucked up yesterday and today from cramps/headache so i got barely anything done so i need to do some work tmr cry T_T i need to remember work is not school i can't just procrastinate everything and i should actually work during and only during work hours. i give myself a pass though bc friday was just awful. also i was supposed to learn python before i started working but i didn't but idk feel like i can wing it there. i already know r and i learned java in highschool so it might actually be a breeze not to toot my own horn but i'm like pretty smart so

it feels like my pms (except its not really pre- more like first/second day of period) symptoms are getting worse the older i get. sometimes the symptoms are okay but more of them are just awful than not. i get really nasty headaches and intense fatigue for one, really bad cramps, joint pain and lower back pain, sometimes my boobs swell up and are really tender (compared to the normal level of tender), i'm either very irritable or sad, i feel like i can't eat and i'm bloated or gassy, i'm like constipated but i also need to shit all the time. like i cannot focus with these conditions. i couldn't this week bc its legit my first week lmao but i might start taking sick days for really bad periods. also maybe bc i took a walk before i started work but my allergies were REALLY bad all day

idk if it's my body aging (which is crazy bc i'm not even 23) or if it's bc i don't exercise as much as i should but idk i still do, like yes i do sit on my ass a LOT but i use the exercise bike a couple times a week and i lift a little bit (not as much as i used to). i haven't been able to go swimming in a while bc i think i had a uti (i didn't bother going to the doctor bc i've gotten 2 in like the last year and i hate taking antibiotics so i was like man lets just wait this out) and now i'm on my period. but other than that i swim pretty frequently.

the only issue w me is i'm a homebody but thats just bc i have almost no friends in my city lmao. esp since n has moved. (i kinda wanna call her but idk our in person chats are always so much better than calls like slight tangent but i can never hear her on the phone lmao)

honestly not mad at it like. did we only talk to each other out of circumstance? i think it's just a fact of life that most of our friends are borne from necessity at work school etc but once that ends only a few of them, maybe 1 or 2, will really stick around. but still like most ppl from uni i just don't think i'll ever talk to again and i wonder if that should matter to me or not. ngl sometimes the loneliness hits me but i don't think i've really lost my social skills in fact i think i've gotten a lot better compared to this time last year like sept 2022 - april 2023 was just a downward spiral for my social skills everything was so hard and my anxiety was prob the worst it had ever been and i wasn't very forgiving of myself. maybe bc i spend a lot of time at home but also i just don't really have a hard time talking to randos on games or in shops or whatever now. idk maybe i give less of a shit now or maybe my solitude is making my ego rise like it tends to.

i heard that was a thing, like if you spend too much time alone your sense of self becomes insanely inflated or deflated there is no middle ground. kinda facts like people are weird

but anyways i feel, for the most part, pretty chill these days. i think i could stand up for myself better now vs in the past. i texted sp again to say like "we should make plans" but i set up the last plan and like i drove her home last time too and we met at this kinda lame plaza bc she had an errand nearby so if she doesn't start the convo this time then i legit can't be arsed like i'll never talk to her again bc i'm gonna return the same effort i get. in fairness she told me that work is really exhausting for her and her commute is ridiculous like she lives by fucking farmland and has to take public transit everywhere bc she doesn't have a car. but we've never been close and i don't think our sense of humour or what we're interested in is all that similar so i get why she's not feelin it honestly me neither. no hard feelings but i will drop her tho.

holy shit this post is loooonggg. i'm not even done writing about shit but i think thats it for the life stuff so i'll make a new one

[mikeys-thighs]

Somethin’ Wrong Here

Bishop x Reader

Summary: Bishop’s fiancee’s reaction to some the events in Season 4, Episode 4.

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol consumption, arguing/yelling

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This has been taking up space in my head since I watched the episode and I just had to write it out. No use of y/n or gender pronouns. Hope y’all like it despite it being an all hurt/no comfort...

Part 1 | Part 2

A text from Cielo had you angrily driving to the clubhouse. How dare that asshole you called a fiancé pull this kind of shit. All that drama with Canche and Yuma had caused a small rift in between you and Obispo; it was actually a bigger issue than either of you wanted to admit. You had been fighting constantly since the attack at the clubhouse, but you were patient and hoped things would work out soon. Well you were trying to but it seemed Bishop thought it was easier to drink his problems away. The wedding had even been pushed back a couple of months in the wait for things to calm down. Unfortunately things just seemed to be getting worse and not better, but as his old lady that is what you signed up for. You knew what you were getting into when you first fell in love with him. But you never expected this.

Your car all but screeched to a halt once inside the club gates. You took a second to calm down a little before leaving the car. It was important that you did not cause a scene until you confirmed what Cielo texted was true. If some random puta was actually putting the moves on him and he wasn’t shutting it down, there was going to be hell to pay. One more deep breath and then you were walking through the main door. 5 seconds. All it took was five seconds for your world to flip upside down. There was your old man doing shots with some woman you had never seen before. He was too wrapped up in telling her how he could keep up with her all night to even notice that someone had walked into the clubhouse. It was obvious to anyone breathing that those two were flirting and it instantly made your blood boil. The fucking audacity of this man.

You slammed the door loudly, finally gaining his attention. Bishop was also too far gone to even register that he was in some deep shit. You stomped over to where he was sitting with that bitch, and you were almost positive that there was actual steam coming out of your ears.

“Obispo Losa, you got a lot of fucking nerve.” You started not caring that you were drawing attention.

“Cariño! Sit down, have a drink.” He drunkenly smiled at you.

“Really that’s all you have to say to me! This is the first time I have seen you in DAYS and I find you flirting with some skank. But you want me to have a drink. Sure makes sense.” You were fuming at this point.

The rando chose to jump in “Seems like you could use one, sweetheart. Might help get that stick out your ass.”

Your eyebrows shot up your forehead. Who the hell did she think she was? Was she part of the reason you were here right now? Yes, but you would deal with her afterwards.

“Excuse me. I don’t even know you gringita, Also I wasn't fucking talking to you, so mind ya business,” You snapped, “And you,” you turned to Bishop ready to give him a piece of your mind.

“Hey! Watch it. Treenie is a nice girl. She enjoys my company unlike somebody.” He cut you off. He no longer looked happy to see you; he was scowling now

“Fuck you. I love spending time with you. I don’t particularly like this version of you though.” You gestured to his current state. “I also don’t like receiving texts from Cielo about your drinking and flirting.” He went to defend himself, but your intense glare stopped him. “Don’t try to deny it, pendejo. I heard the little innuendo you both made just now. Not to mention the way you were looking at her. It is a look I am very familiar with.”

“I’m sorry, isn't he a grown man? He can do whatever he wants.” Treenie interrupted, a stupid smirk on her face.

“I thought I told you to mind your business. Butt in again and I’ll break your nose.” You threatened turning your gaze on her. A threat all the Santo Padre members knew you would act on and probably soon.

Bishop slammed his hand on the table,and you jumped at the noise. If he was mad at you before he was downright infuriated now.A shot glass shattered as it rolled off the table and you slowly met Bish’s eyes. There was nothing but rage and hate swirling in them, not even a smidge of their usual adoration. Even during your worst fights he had never looked at you with such contempt. He sternly pointed a finger at you.

“I told you to watch the attitude. Now I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you lately, but it ends now.”

You started to argue back but he stopped you.

“No! I’m talking, you’re listening. You don’t get to come in here and act like a fucking brat. This is my sanctuary where I come to find peace from all your fucking nagging. Except now I gotta deal with shit here, and at home.”

You could feel your face getting hot with embarrassment. It was one thing for you to argue in private, but something else entirely to do it in public. You could feel everyone’s gazes on the two of you. It was probably like watching a car accident . They knew they should probably look away but couldn’t.

This was not how you saw this going. Honestly you had no idea how it was going to turn out when you got here. You figured you would yell at him and maybe fight the bitch for trying to sleep with your fiancé. Then Bishop would’ve dragged to a secluded part of the clubhouse for a round of make up sex. So what happened next caught you completely off guard.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe there was a reason I haven’t been home? Huh? Well, I’ll tell you why. It is because I can’t fucking stand to be around you. All you do is bitch and complain about everything. The dirty dishes, the neighbors dog shitting in our lawn, picking the cake flavor for a wedding I DON’T EVEN FUCKING WANT!” He continued on but you stopped listening.

He didn’t want to marry you… That had opened the floodgates and you were quick to wipe the tears away. Was all that planning and how excited he seemed to spend the rest of your lives together a lie? An act he put on to keep you happy? Well if that was what he wanted then fine.

You swiftly took off the ring on your left ring finger and chucked it as his stupid head. It was enough to shut him up. The clatter of the ring seemed to echo in the dead quiet clubhouse. It also caused everyone in the room to unfreeze and turn away. You didn’t bother to wipe your tears as you stepped closer to him. With a gentle tug of his beard, that he didn’t deserve, you forced him to make eye contact with you. He had to know you meant what you were about to say.

“I hate you Obispo and I never want to see you again.” You turn on your heel and leave the clubhouse.

You had made it all the way to your car before somebody followed you. As you looked over your shoulder you saw it was Gilly. He didn’t say anything, just held his hand for your keys. You had no energy to argue, so you handed them over and got in the passenger seat. He sent you a small smile before driving away. Thankfully he didn’t try to start a conversation, you were too busy crying anyway.. After dropping him off, you drove to the closest hotel. There was no way you could actually return to the home you used to share with Bishop tonight. It would hurt too much. Although the hotel room didn’t do much to dull the ache in your heart either.

[rendevousz]

sick

avengers x gn!teen!reader

platonic!peter parker x reader

requested by @sunflowerbecca : "hey! a request with the whole teen avengers thing you got gotten on haha, anyways something where the reader gets hurt or faints etc etc and then the rest of the avengers are all worried and frantic as they care for them"

summary: there was a consequence of going on a mission while you were sick

warnings: mentions of throwing up and a tiny fight with bestfriend!peter, avengers babying you as usual

word count: roughly 5k words of utter bullshit me thinks but pls do give this a read LMAO

notes: i'm sorry this took longer to write i was unexpectedly busy on the weekends but here i am i hope you enjoy this <3

"stark, you sure about this?"

"of course i'm sure, capsicle. the kids have been bugging us to let them go on a mission together. i know it's because they just want to mess around without being scolded but this is the easiest mission we've ever gotten since the avengers. besides, they've been pretty good lately so i think they deserve it. don't you guys think so?"

his question was met with approving looks all over the room, except from steve. the whole team except the teens —you and peter— were having a meeting about a simple mission that was supposed to happen that night. you and peter weren't in the meeting because you two were still at school.

it had been months since you and peter started asking the team to let you guys go on missions alone without "adult supervision". it was true that you guys wanted that just so you could do missions without feeling like you were being babysat but it was also because you guys thought that you weren't kids anymore; you could handle simple missions.

"c'mon cap, don't you want to see their face light up when we tell them they can go on this mission together, without us?" clint urged. he knew steve loved the kids, especially you, and he especially loved seeing the way your eyes would light up first before you whole face did.

"okay, fine. but if anything happens to them, you guys are to blame for."

–

school had just finished and you were walking back to the tower with peter. you've been having a killer headache all day and you felt nauseous. you even went to the washroom to throw up twice today. of course you didn't tell peter because he was that type of overprotective best friend who would make you get home if you sneezed more than three times that day. all you wanted to do today was get home quick so you could sleep the sickness away.

yes, you knew you were sick. but you didn't want to tell anyone because like peter, the whole team was overprotective over you and they usually did too much when you were sick. so you avoided that by just acting like you were okay. that was going well so far since all you had to do when you get home was go to your room and tell them you stayed up late last night and needed to catch up on sleep.

of course that didn't go well.

"y/n!" you groaned when peter entered your room uninvited, immediately jumping onto your bed. "yes, pete?" you croaked. his joyful expression turned into a frown when he heard you. "what's wrong? are you okay?"

"yes, pete, i'm okay. just super sleep deprived." you lied, cringing when you felt your head throb once again. "oh.. did you..did you want to sleep? am i interrupting?" he asked, feeling bad. "no, no. it's fine, what did you want?"

"i just came to tell you that mr stark and the team are finally gonna let us go on a mission without them! there's one tonight and they're letting us go alone!" he announced excitedly. you couldn't help the small smile that appeared on your lips when he said that. his happiness was just so contagious.

"but if you wanna sleep then i'll just go with any one of them, i guess," he shrugged his shoulders with a nonchalant face but you knew he was internally begging you to come with. after all, you guys have been asking for this for the longest time.

you look at his hopeful face —one that he thought he was concealing very well— and sighed, flashing him a small smile. "fine, it's friday anyways so there's no school tomorrow. but you're buying me food tomorrow for postponing my catchup on beauty sleep," that is, if you can stomach the food, considering how you've thrown up almost anything you had for the past two days.

the thought of this mission going awry because of you being sick was almost immediately forgotten when you saw the huge smile on peter's face. he pulled you into a tight hug before letting go to jump on your bed. "we're finally gonna go on a mission alone!"

you laugh at his excitement though you wished he could lower down his volume because it was making your head hurt.

later that evening, you were in your room, sitting on the bed after having just finished putting on your suit when a knock was heard. after telling the person to come in, you met eyes with a certain blond haired super-soldier.

"hey, y/n." he greets, sitting down beside you. "hey, steve," you responded with a weak voice. he turned to you with a frown and you knew what was coming. "i'm fine, steve. i already had this conversation with pete. i just need sleep but i can get that after this mission. i'm not gonna be fine though if you wake me up at the crack of dawn to train when you know i just had a late night mission." you sassed, causing him to chuckle.

"okay, fine. i'm just worried about you two. you sure you're gonna be fine? don't need me to come along?" he asked, concern written all over his face.

"yes, steve. pete's been wanting a mission without you old folks for the longest time and i'm not gonna disappoint him by making you come along. we'll be fine, stevie. we're not little kids, we're avengers. we can handle finding a random chip in an abandoned building," you reasoned with him.

"it's not a rando— you know what? just be back home safe, okay kiddo?" he ruffled your hair, earning him a playful glare from you.

-

the swing trip to the mission location had you even more nauseous than you were earlier today and earlier today was worse than yesterday when the symptoms of your fever all started. you almost let go of peter because your body felt weak and now you were getting an earful from the boy.

"y/n, what were you thinking?! you could've gotten hurt!" he scolded you. you only looked down in guilt, biting the inside of your cheeks. "can we not do this now? let's talk about this back at the tower tomorrow," you waved him off, already beginning to feel the pounding headache getting worse. you started to walk ahead but then he gripped your upper arm, effectively halting you in your steps.

"y/n, if i hadn't grabbed onto you tighter the last minute, you could've plummeted 100 feet down to your death! did you know how scared i was?" his voice cracked and you immediately felt bad.

"you know you need to hold on too when i'm swinging us both! why'd you do that?" he yelled at you and you had to press onto your temple because of the headache that was steadily getting worse.

"look, pete, i'm really sorry about that, okay? that was unintentional but if you're gonna berate me over that, can you do that back at the tower?" you sighed, trying to shrug his grip off your arm but he kept it.

"you don't know the true weight of your actions, do you? you could've died, y/n! how do you think i would feel? being the reason my best friend died? having to go on with life without you? i can't lose you, y/n!" at this point, you could tell he was crying under his mask.

you felt bad. you knew you shouldn't have agreed to go on this mission knowing that you had been sick for the past two days. but you couldn't have let the opportunity pass. you couldn't bear to see peter disappointed after waiting for this moment for the longest time ever. but standing here, looking down as peter yelled at you while crying, you were starting to think that it was better to just see his disappointment. anything was better than seeing your best friend cry.

"pete, i truly am sorry. i love you and i would never leave you. but can we please get this mission over and done with so we can get back to the tower as soon as possible? we'll talk about this later," you told him and you immediately felt him let go of your arm.

"okay, fine! since you wanna get the mission done so bad, let's do it! i'll take the east side of the building and you'll take west. we'll split up so can find the goddamn chip quicker. that's what you want right?" and before you could say anything, the boy was already out of your sight.

you tried to keep your tears at bay but when that was the first huge argument you had with your best friend, it was kind of an impossible task.

so with your weak muscles and a breakdown that caused your headache to get even worse, you slowly trudged the west side of the building, looking for that stupid chip that the team wanted you to find.

you were beginning to think that the only reason the team sent you both here was because to find a tiny little chip in a huge abandoned building was like finding a needle in a haystack; definitely not something adults like them could bear to do.

but it obviously wouldn't have mattered to you and peter since you guys could do it peacefully without being pestered every two minutes about your whereabouts during missions. it obviously wouldn't have mattered to you and peter because if that argument hadn't broken out, you two would be enjoying each others company as you looked for the chip together. you could've been singing and joking around like you two wanted to. but of course that couldn't happen because of you.

you stopped in your tracks when a particularly harsh wave of migraine hit you, causing you to lean against the wall. your vision blurred as you tried hard to clear it but it wouldn't. your throat was dry and it made you think; when was the last time you drank water? you barely had energy in you from skipping meals due to your inability to stomach them.

now you were actually regretting coming on this mission. the last thing you saw was the dirty walls decorated with spray painted graffiti.

-

"oh my god, is this it? KAREN, is this it?" peter asked his built in AI. "yes, peter, this chip matches the picture that mr stark sent you."

"yes!" he cheered, grabbing the chip and storing it safely. "this mission probably would've been a lot more fun if y/n and i weren't fighting. we would've had so much fun. these walls had countless of stuff we could've laughed and joked about." the boy sighed before pressing a finger to his comms.

"hey i uh, i found the chip. where are you? we can go now." he said, waiting for you to respond. but you didn't. "c'mon, y/n, it's been two hours. you can't still be giving me the silent treatment, are you?"

silence.

"look, i'm sorry for lashing out on you but like you said, let's settle this at the tower. tell me where you are. i'll come get you and we can swing back as soon as possible."

silence.

"goddamnit, y/n! answer me!" he huffed out in annoyance. and when he was met with silence once again, he decided to have KAREN do a scan.

"y/n is at the exact same spot you landed on two hours ago." KAREN showed him the scan of the building and highlighted where you guys landed on two hours ago. he felt his heart race when you seemed to be lying on the ground, motionless.

"what's wrong with them, KAREN? why is y/n lying on the floor?" he asked in concern as he sped up to where you were. "y/n seems to have lost consciousness. according to FRIDAY, they have been showing symptoms of a high fever since yesterday."

peter cursed as he ran towards you when he saw you from afar. how could he have not noticed that you were sick? and it wasn't a simple cold but a high fever. now he was the one who felt bad. he should've suspected it from how different you had been acting since yesterday. that must've also been the reason you couldn't hold on to him properly.

he immediately crouched down to you when he reached you, examining your body for any external injuries. he cringed when he saw dried blood on the side of your forehead. you must've scraped it upon impact on the rough concrete.

"how long have they been out?" he asked KAREN as he picked you up. he proceeded to web you onto his body as extra precaution in case he accidentally let go while he swung. "approximately 2 hours, peter. right after you stormed away angrily."

"okay, KAREN, there's no need to make me feel bad. can you call mr stark?" peter asks the AI as he frantically swings you both back to the tower.

"kid? what's up? did you find the chip?" peter could hear the background rock music being lowered down and from the metal on metal clanking, he could tell tony was in his lab.

"i did but can you, uh, please get medic ready?" he was breathless as he kept swinging from building to building all while holding onto your unconscious body. immediately the metal tinkering sounds as well as the music completely stopped.

"what happened, kid? are you alright?"

"i'm okay, mr stark. it's y/n. they fainted." he told the man. "fainted?" the man exclaimed. "what happened? how long were they out?" he urged the boy and peter could hear that he was walking quickly and he assumed it was to get the medic team ready and to inform them of the situation.

"2 hours," he admitted quietly as he landed on the tower's hangar. "i'm here. i'm bringing them down now." he ran down towards the hospital wing with you in his arms.

once he reached down, he was met with the team waiting, worry etched onto their faces. wanda was the first to notice him and peter saw that her eyes were teary. before he could say anything though, the medic team appeared and proceeded to cut off his webs wrapping you to him. they immediately put you onto the stretcher and they wheeled you into the room, peter's gaze lingering on your unconscious self once he took off his mask.

"what happened out there, kid?" sam asked softly when peter slid down against the wall, staring expressionlessly at the wall across of him. "peter."

"we had a fight, okay!" he let out, taking the team by surprise because he was always such a calm and patient boy. they had never seen him this angry or upset since they first met him.

"we were swinging and their grip on me loosened so i got mad at them. but they kept pushing the matter aside like it wasn't a big deal, like it wasn't a life or death situation so i lashed out and decided that we should split up to look for the stupid chip since they wanted to get back to the tower so bad." he explained, eyes red as he had been crying a lot that night.

"i tried apologising like ten minutes after but y/n didn't respond so i assumed they were giving me the silent treatment but i found them unconscious two hours later. i'm so sorry," he apologised, breaking down as he put his face in between his knees to avoid looking at the team. they were probably mad at him for letting this happen to you.

"kid, why are you apologising? it's not your fault,"

he slowly lifted his head up, to meet the kind smiles of the team. "because the only reason y/n probably went on this mission was because they knew how much i wanted this. they put their own well-being aside just to make me happy and all i did was lash out at them."

"how were you supposed to know y/n had a high fever? we all didn't know either. it's not like we spend every waking hour with th—" clint was immediately cut off when nat nudged him with her elbow. peter had an unamused expression on his face. everyone knew you and peter were practically attached at the hip, always having training, and not to mention, school together. you two even spent your free time together.

"what clint means," nat glared at the archer. "is that it doesn't matter how much time or how little time we spend with y/n. that kid is stubborn as a bull. they could literally have been shot and we wouldn't know until we actually see the wound. my point is, y/n's the type that doesn't want to worry us. and you're their best friend, they knew how much you wanted this mission so that's probably why they didn't tell you. you can't blame yourself for this, peter."

"i know but they did this for me and i got mad at them. they're a much better friend to me than i am to them." peter dropped his head back down between his knees.

before any of them could respond, doctor cho approached them. "as you all know, they have a high fever. i suggest you all come visit tomorrow because they most probably won't wake until then."

"okay, will do. thank you, doc." the doctor smiled before excusing herself. peter then got up to go back to his room to wash up after handing tony the chip.

tony could only sigh when he looked at the boy's back that was growing smaller as he walked farther away.

-

the next day, you woke up with a terrible headache but you had gotten used to it from the past two mornings.

"good, you're awake. how do you feel?"

you squinted to get used to the bright lighting and your gaze settled on the female doctor by your bed with a clipboard. "like shit." you croaked out. she chuckled. "that's expected. your fever has calmed down now, do you feel anything else?"

"this headache makes me want to rip my head out and i feel weak." she nodded, jotting down on her clipboard. "okay. that's all i needed to know. you should come to us if you're ever unwell, y/n." you gave her a guilty smile before nodding.

"there's a glass of water on the table if you want. the team wants to see you so i'll send them in?" you nodded and she left to bring them in. you looked at the bedside table, seeing the glass of water she mentioned and only now you realised how dry your throat had been. how you managed to verbally respond to doctor cho, you didn't know.

you slowly reached out for it, struggling because your whole body felt weak. "y/n! stay in bed, i'll get it for you." you heard a stern voice scold and you immediately fell limp on the bed.

before you knew it, steve was already by your side with the glass of water. he held your face in one hand while the other held the glass near your mouth. you smiled gratefully and took your time drinking the water, having been dehydrated before you passed out.

"you're still burning up," he noted, settling down on the chair beside you. the rest sat down too and you couldn't be bothered to ask how the heck were there so many chairs in the room. "how are you feeling, y/n/n?" bruce asked, sitting down across steve.

"like shit." you repeated your answer to doctor cho. before steve could open his mouth to tell you to watch your language, you turned to him with a bored look and a raised eyebrow, causing him to close his mouth immediately. boy, were you scary when you weren't about to take anyone's shit.

"why didn't you tell us you were sick, bubs?" wanda pouted, fixing your hair that you were sure looked like a bird's nest at the moment.

"i didn't want to worry you guys. you're adults who have much more important things to worry about. a kid throwing up and experiencing headaches shouldn't be your priority." you admitted, subconsciously playing with nat's fingers. she had gotten used to you doing that when you were nervous or overwhelmed so she let you.

"what are you talking about, y/n?" she held onto your hand, stoping your movements. "anything related to your safety and well-being is a priority to us. you had us worried sick last night, bub." she looked down at you with soft eyes, releasing her grip on your hands so you could continue playing with her fingers.

"yes, you worried us lots, y/n. wanda would not stop crying last night when she heard what happened." vision said, prompting a smack from said woman and a hushed 'vis!'.

"i'm sorry, guys. i initially was just going to stay in my room until i got better but when peter told me about the mission, i couldn't bear to say no to him. he was so happy about it and i didn't want to disappoint him. and i thought i could take it because it literally was the simplest mission ever. but the breakdown i had after our argument was physically draining and i guess i couldn't take it. i'm sorry. god, i only didn't want to disappoint peter but now i've disappointed you guys too." you bit the inside of your cheek to control your emotions, not wanting to seem even weaker in front of these adult superheroes.

"you didn't disappoint us, y/n/n," bucky started. "you've done so well, you've made us proud and you keep making us proud. we just wish you would tell us when you're sick or you just need someone. you don't have to keep everything to yourself. what are we here for? we love you and we're willing to do anything for you. you're our baby." he ruffled your hair and you give him a tired smile. "i'll keep that in mind."

"do you want anything to eat?" sam asked and you paused, trying to figure out whether you would be able to stomach some food or not. "you know what? i'm gonna go and make you some porridge right now. don't move." he told you, as if you could move with these overprotective heroes surrounding your bed.

almost immediately after, wanda got up too. "i'm going to make sure he doesn't burn the kitchen down." she said, leaving the room after a small peck to the side of your head. vision then left too after wishing you a speedy recovery. only bucky, steve, natasha and bruce were left.

"y/n, you know you can come to us if you're sick, right? i know you and you probably think you're troubling doctor cho if you go to her despite it being her job. but we're family, you can come to us anytime. you always help me when with 'the other guy' and you help everyone with basically anything they could possibly need so why wouldn't we do the same for you? you out of everyone in this tower deserves the most." your eyes watered at his speech. you pouted and looked at him with your doe eyes, making the rest of the team internally coo at how adorable you looked.

"bruce," you lower lip jutted out even more as you opened your arms for a hug which he happily accepted. "hey where's clint, tony and pete?" you asked them once you let go of bruce.

"clint went out to get your favourite smoothie from that place you always talk about even though i told him already that you probably don't want it since you're sick." natasha explained. "aw, i think i'm gonna drink it solely because clint made an effort to get it for me."

"you're too nice, bub. but expect it in an hour or so because i know for sure that idiot somehow got himself lost trying to find that shop." you chuckled at this, leaning back against your propped up pillow. "what about tony and pete?"

"peter feels really bad about this whole situation so tony is trying to cheer him up. wait," steve stopped mid-explanation, turning to the rest. "stark told us to get him when y/n's up..." he trailed off and bucky's eyes widened. "he's gonna kill us for him not being the first person y/n sees when they wake up."

"FRIDAY, inform stark that y/n is awake."

"oh yeah he has an AI why couldn't he just tell the AI to inform him instead of us forgetful humans?" bucky questioned rhetorically and before they knew it, they heard frantic screaming and thudding of footsteps before the door was open.

"my baby! you're awake!" was the first thing you heard when the door slammed open. tony rushed in, pushing bruce away as he immediately pulled you into a hug. "you're still burning up, cupcake. have you had anything to eat yet? drank any water yet? here have some water," he grabbed the glass of water steve helped you drink earlier and did exactly what steve did. you had no choice but to drink.

"sam's making them porridge," nat told tony and he turned to her with an incredulous look. "wanda's helping." she added and he sighed out in relief before turning back to you.

"cupcake, you had us all worried last night. please don't ever do that again, okay?" he said, gently caressing your cheek. you gave him an awkward smile. "where's peter?"

"he's taking a swing. he says it helps clear his mind," tony said. "how are you doing here? nice room? comfy bed?" he pointed to the bed you were on.

"i'd much rather be in my own room, on my own bed." and without a warning, steve already had you in his arms while tony went to go tell doctor cho that you were being moved. the blond super-soldier started walking while natasha walked closely behind, dragging your IV drip along so it doesn't get ripped out of your arm.

when you reached your room, you were gently put down on your bed and steve fixed your blanket so it was covering you. "comfy?" he asked and you nodded with a big smile.

"i have to finish some stuff up down the lab," bruce said and you nodded at him with a pout. "i'll come back sometime later, though. you better be resting up all day." he warned jokingly. he ruffled your hair, planting a kiss on your forehead before leaving your room.

"can you tell pete that i want to see him when he comes back?" you told tony and he immediately sent out a text to your best friend.

after about an hour of just steve, nat and tony entertaining you, sam came back with wanda with the porridge and tony insisted that he feed you or you he wasn't going to let you see peter.

"alright, bub, i think you should really get some rest now. you can barely keep your eyes open," nat says, already getting up with your empty bowl of porridge. "we'll tell spiderboy you're asleep."

"okay," you mumbled, eyes already fluttering shut. you felt every single one of them give you a forehead kiss and then you were out like light.

when you woke up later that day, you felt much better than you did the last time you woke up. you decided that you now had enough energy to take a quick shower so you did. once you were done, you dried your hair while humming to a random song before the door opening interrupted you.

your eyes met with peter's guilty ones. "h–hey, you're awake," he stated and you nodded with a small smile, sitting on your bed and peter doing the same.

"look, y/n/n, i'm really sorry about what happened. i shouldn't have lashed out on you witho—"

"pete," you cut him off. "don't apologise. i'd be mad too if you did something as stupid as that." you reasoned. "yeah but it's not like you did it on purpose! you had a valid reason and i got mad at you for it." he spoke in frustration.

"dude, stop. i'm the one who's supposed to be sorry. i should've just told you i was sick. but i didn't want to upset you because you've been waiting for this for the longest time. but i ruined it for you. i'm sorry, pete." you rested your head on his shoulder and he rested his on top of yours.

"i wanna say that i'm the one at fault but then this conversation won't end until like next week so let's just say we're both at fault, yeah? you need to start telling people what's happening with you and i need to be better at reading you." he said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into a hug. you hugged him back. "okay."

the door then opened, revealing bucky with his stupid shit-eating grin and you knew what was coming. you let go of peter and immediately you were lifted off the bed and over bucky's shoulders as he excitedly chanted about team movie night.

the night was spent watching a movie with the team you considered your family and them pampering you even more than they usually did (which, frankly, was still too much) since you were sick.

and right when the movie ended and everyone was preparing to head in, the door to the common room slammed open and a disheveled clint entered, holding a single cup of smoothie.

"got your smoothie, y/n/n!"

[shurisneakers]

harmless (v)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, ghosts, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, rats

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: why did i like this chapter sm someone explain. anyway!! y’all are so passionate about these two i love it mwah

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He dislikes the subway. 

Other than his other valid reason to have disdain for trains, the subway is dark, it’s shady and he’s sure he’s seen rodents fight to the death here on several occasions.  

Still, he’s following you down the stairs of the station, watching as you whistle along to the song blasting through your headphones. There’s a backpack swung over your shoulders, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie and converse doing a skip every now and then. There’s a bandana that’s tied across your face, acting as a mask to hide your identity. 

He realises that you’re dressed like a commuter. Were you going to dress the part every single time?

You walk along with the crowd. He follows, a few feet away.

Until you stop. He abruptly stops too, leading someone to walk right into him. 

“Watch it, dumbass,” they hiss with the courage of someone who has no idea who he is. He ignores them. 

He looks on as you dig around your backpack and pull out a roll of paper. A poster, he realises soon when you peel off a layer from the back and press it to the wall. 

Was it legal to put up posters in the subway? He wasn’t quite sure. 

He observes as you turn around and continue down the path. He waits a few seconds before trailing up to the poster.

Volunteers needed!

If you’re interested in being turned into a ghost for a couple of hours, this is your chance! Should be okay with being on camera so that we can make money off of taped paranormal sightings.

Paid opportunity. You get to pick your outfit. Randos don’t apply.

He yanks the poster of the wall before continuing down the same place you did.

He finds another poster along the way. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling it down. You were advocating to kill people. 

He knows he’s going in the right direction because more posters creep up along the wall.

The both of you are on the platform by now but to him, something changes about the placement of the posters. They were growing in frequency, the distance between them decreasing as they were situated close to each other.

He pauses in front of the next one, hand hovering over the paper.

All it reads is ‘STOP’.

He furrows his eyebrow, pulling it down before peering over at the next one.

‘TAKING’, is all that it says.

It doesn’t take him very long to make his way through all the posters in the hallway. 

‘THESE’

‘DOWN’

The train’s arrived by now but a quick scan over the crowd and he knows that you haven’t entered. That, and he knew that you were too dramatic to leave without a trace or a small conversation with him. 

‘DICKHEAD’

Tasteful, he thinks. 

“It took effort to make them, stop ruining it,” you whine from the end of the hallway. It’s empty, given that rush hour was over a while ago. 

Even though the mask covers half your face, it’s obvious that there is mischief etched under it. The twinkle in your eye is telling. 

“You’re literally killing people.” He holds up the poster. Not the ‘dickhead’ one. He pockets that for later. 

He knows there are a few minutes before the next train arrives and more people flood the station. The eccentricity of today lay in the lighting from the incandescent lamps and acoustics of the platform. It made his voice echo like a movie scene. 

“I very much am not,” you huff. 

“You’re turning them into ghosts. That’s what a murderer does,” he says pointedly. 

“Well, only if you keep saying it like that. You’re making me look bad.” You cross your arms across your chest. “What are you, Fox News?” 

A scurry next to him earns his attention. Two rats nibble at a piece of fallen food. He wonders when they’ll starting brawling. 

“Explain this.” He waves the poster around. He isn’t taking it too lightly he hopes. If it’s actual murder then it’s going to be an issue. 

You pull out a black cylinder, slightly bigger than a pen. He can’t really see any more details, but you hold onto it like a wand. 

“I’m turning them into ghosts. I’ll post videos of them doing stupid shit. I get famous and then boom, cash money.” You rub your index finger and thumb together. “I’ll give you a share if you volunteer.”

“You’re not explaining the death part.” 

He can feel it. You’re about to start derailing. 

“Winter Soldier, the ghost story. Literally.” You grin, yanking down the mask from your face to prove it. It pools around your neck. “That’s so funny, c’mon, it’d be amazing.”

It’s been years since he’s heard that. Never in this context. 

“No,” he says sternly, “and I’m going to have to bring you in if you’re going to kill people.”

The rats were ignoring everything that was going down like the hardened criminals that they were. They had probably seen worse. He can’t stop paying attention to them.

“I’m not killing them, bro.” You raise your hands in exclamation. “I’m just moving some molecules around, some frequency shit. They’re alive, just ghosts.”  

He’s always been one for science. Straight As throughout high school, attended science conventions as a hobby, alive even at 100 through some mad experimentation, definitely seen some weird shit during his lifetime. 

But this doesn’t make sense.

“No,” he repeats. “Give me the thing.”

“Fine, I’ll show you.” You roll your eyes. “Since you have absolutely no faith in me.”

He does a quick review of his surroundings. 

No one’s around, which is good. 

But that just leaves him in front of you, which is bad.

“Don’t you even thin-” he starts, muscles tensing as he shifts into a defensive stance.

You whip out the little pen thing from beside you but before he can react you turn around and duck. 

The click of a button releases a bright light, small but intensely stronger than the fluorescents in the station.

He reels back, feet carrying him away from where you’re crouched. His eyes quickly look down at his body. 

Nothing’s changed. 

He lifts his hand to check, runs it over his face. Still alive. He thinks.

“Behold,” you declare, “Ghost rat.”

He looks to where you’re pointing. The two rats from earlier were still nibbling on their food but something was off about them. 

He could see the faint outline of the tiles on the wall behind them, almost like they were... translucent.  

You aimed at the rats, not him. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed at the fake threat.

He watches as they move. They don’t look hurt or injured.

“Cool, huh?” you say smugly. 

He can’t stop staring at them. 

“Bring them back.”

“They’re fine, look how abstract it is.”

“Bring back the rats.” He can’t believe this is what his life has come to.

Bucky Barnes, Rodent Protector.

You aren’t fazed by his indifference, instead wonder filled eyes gaze at the animals. “Astral mice, sarge. Embrace the miracle of modern science.”

“You killed them.”

“They’re alive, they’re just ghosts.” You raise a finger to point. “Look, they’re still eating. Biological functions are still taking place.” 

 Which was true. But still. He doesn’t know what is going on.

“Bring them back to... non-ghost alive.” 

“You sure you don’t want one? That one kinda looks like you.” One hardened glare after you realise the answer. “Jeez, alright then.”

You dig through your bag before pulling out a matte black replica of your current invention. 

“Sexy colours, right?” You hold them up. “I modelled them after your arm.”

He looks down. Sure enough the gold and black matched his cybernetic limb. It was oddly flattering. 

“Say thank you, Y/N, for letting me be your muse-”

“Un-ghost the rats.” 

“Ungrateful,” you narrow your eyes at him. 

Still, you comply with his demands, ducking down to their level again.

A click of the button, a bright light and the rats are back to normal. Non-transparent normal.

“Okay, give me that.” He takes a step towards you. 

“Nuh uh.” You pull your arm back. His mouth twitches at your response; what are you, five?

The black one is stuffed back into your bag but you wave around the gold like a threat. 

He sighs, making a pass for it. In a second his arm is twisted and shoved against his back, forcing him to spin so that he’s facing away from you. His eyes widen.

What the fuck?

“Now we’re having a good time,” you whisper into this ear. 

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist to rotate his own out of your grip. 

“Since when can you fight?” he asks.

“Are we getting to know each other now?” You raise your leg to give him a semi gentle kick in the side, using his momentary distraction in blocking it to give him a knock on the head with your free hand. “This is so romantic, sarge.”

There’s a low rumble in the distance and he knows the train would soon start pulling into the station. It was still a distance away, but his heightened senses warned him that it wouldn’t take much time. 

He groans. How much longer would he have to go at this?

He could easily win this fight and he knew it. But something in him itched, pulled him back from doing it.

He blocks another attempt at his head. “Stop that.”

You grin. “You know what’d be fun?”

He knows you’d reply even if he didn’t encourage it. The lights from the train light up the tunnel around the corner. 

“This.” You don’t give him a second to recover before you flick your wrist away from him.

The device flies out of your hand and right onto the track. The both of you watch, you in glee, he in horror, as the train runs right over it, unleashing the brightest light he had ever seen. His eyes shut instinctively before it blinds him.

He forces himself to pry open his eyelids, look at the damage caused. 

The train, sure enough, is translucent. He can see the posters on the other side of the platform through the carriage, through various people holding onto the poles for support or seated on the seats.

“Ghost train!” you cheer. He’s mortified.

“Fuck no,” he mumbles, yanking the backpack off your shoulder. He rummages through it, looking for the gold version.

“You lookin’ for this?” you ask nonchalantly, holding it up in your hand like it isn’t the solution to stopping a bunch of ghosts from wandering around New York. 

“Turn them back.” He gives you a chance. 

“Do it yourself, coward.” You grin, holding it above your head. The train is going to stop and he needs everyone to be alive and non-ghost before they leave.

He doesn’t wait this time, instead turning to you. The thing is still held in your grip above your head. He rolls his eyes, doing a quick assessment before grabbing your free hand, tugging you closer and plucking the device out of your hand before you have the opportunity to retract it.  

“Great, now figure out which button to press.” You’re dangerously close to him. He can feel your hoodie brush against his tactical jacket. “Also if you wanted to be all pressed up against me, you could have just asked.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, letting go of you as you give a loud laugh. He looks down at the device. It has several buttons, littering up and down the side. Each look the same. 

The train’s slowing down. 

“They’re both the same device; this version is not a magical solution to the other one. If you press the wrong button then both of us are going to be fucked.”

The last carriage is getting closer. 

“Say I win this round and I’ll fix it.” 

There’s a gleam in your eye. He knew this was exactly what you wanted. 

He wishes he was as stubborn as Steve, just run through each button until the right one worked.

“You win this one.” He hands it back. He wasn’t like Steve and judging by the number of items the idiot jumped out of planes without a parachute on a daily basis, Bucky was glad about it. At least Bucky did it sporadically.

“Yay, two each for the both of us, then,” you say, taking it from him and twisting, eyes running down the sides. “Close your eyes, old man, or else your cataract’s gonna get worse.”

Right as the train pulls to a stop, you press down on the button before throwing it and the blinding light that emanates from it. It lands on the top of the train right as the doors open. 

The passengers start stepping out. Some of them are looking at their hands and legs in a little disbelief, most just push through the crowd to leave.

He can’t see through them. It’s a good sign. 

He turns to look at you but you’re not there. Instead, the weight of the small device weighs down in his pocket.

The sound of a thud on glass draws his attention. 

He looks up at the train. The window of the carriage in front of him has a bit of fog on it. You trace a heart in the condensation and blow him a kiss before pulling your mask back on.

The train starts moving, leaving him alone in the platform again with your invention.

He lets out an exhale, wandering outside to grab a sandwich before waiting to catch the next train to go home. 

Later in the evening, he catches hold of a bit of tape and the ‘Dickhead’ poster finds a place on Sam’s door. 

He doesn’t appreciate it.

So now it’s tucked away in the shelf of Bucky’s bedside table along with a freeze ray, a ghost-inator, and some discount Pym Particles. 

Next part

[fangirl-everythang]

Smoke Break C. T. H.

Summary: At Calums' party he leaves for a smoke, y/n joining him later on. Some rando pukes on y/n leaving the two to get away. He maybe receives a gift.

Warnings: Swearing, Sex, Oral sex, smoking, mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 3475

Calum's POV

Who the hell are these people? It's a party for me and I know no one here. Fucking great, Oh yeah mate, trust me it's gonna be HUGE. You'll love it. This is the last time I listen to Ashton. Do I look like I'm fucking having a great time?

We need to get him a girlfriend. They all tell me I need to settle but I'm known as the lone wolf it never works with the lifestyle we have. Well somehow Luke and Michael make it work but to me it's exhausting.

"Aye mate, having fun?" I turn to see dyed hair and I know it's Michael.

"It's fine." I huff as someone shouts happy birthday once more. I see Roy across the way with some chick and he shrugs at me. I would've just preferred to go see Mali but she's always busy now. I just look at Michael while taking a sip of the beer in my cup I've been on this one since this shit of a party started.

"It could be worse you know? You could-" He's interrupted by Crystal who leans up and whispers in his ear he nods and begins to grab her hand. "We're gonna head out she's not feeling well." He gives me a sympathetic smile. "Happy birthday." is all he says when they begin to leave the room. Welp, there goes another friend.

I haven't seen Ashton since the party started and Luke definitely is getting it in with Sierra right now. Literally, all over each other, it's truly disgusting if you asked me. Deciding to move away from this wall I head to the kitchen to throw this drink away, taste watered down because of the ice. Pushing through the moving bodies and the lights everywhere, I dump that shit in the sink. Ashton comes my way trailing a girl behind him, "There you are! Y/n showed up?" I see the hair of a girl just talking to someone who's just come behind her.

Y/n has been around us for a while. I don't know when but our friendship started after we met at a party. She was waiting for Arzylea to join her when we started talking. Next thing you know she was a part of our inner circle. Not gonna lie, She's my favorite person in the group. Everyone thought that when Arz and Luke broke up, she would leave too but she's still here. And she keeps that group chat very entertaining shall I say. We've hung out a few times, with her it's different though. I don't feel the need to be THE Calum Hood bass player for 5SOS, she knew of me but cared more for the person I was. She asked questions even though she knew the answers. I just felt relaxed with her. As more people entered the kitchen, I go to the back porch where I don't see anyone. There are too many people and I don't even want to think about how to clean this up. Pulling a cigarette from the pack I just let the smoke fill my lungs and slowly exhale while leaning against the siding of the house.

"You know that's an awfully bad habit you have Hood." The familiar voice speaks, forcing me to open my eyes.

I chuckle, "Why aren't you enjoying the party?" I ask her.

"Come on you know that's not my scene." I nod silently agreeing. She looks stunning, the way her dress hugs her body, she's so effortlessly flawless. Most girls have to go through a tribal ritual to look as amazing as her. "Stop that." she laughs.

I shake my head slightly to remember what I just did. "Sorry I-I didn't mean to um yeah fuck." I stumble for words she just nods. "It's okay.'' she looks down and fumbles with her hands. It's cute how she does that, almost like she doesn't know she's the most beautiful person in the room. A harsh gust of wind pushes past and she shivers. I look at her and open my arms with my jacket she rolls her eyes but gets closer. Holding the cigarette with my mouth to free my hands I just pull her closer until I feel the warmth of our bodies touch.

"Thanks" She mumbles against my chest. She looks up at me before pulling the cigarette between my lips, just as I'm about to protest she takes a puff. Watching her smoke is by far the hottest thing I've seen, and I've seen Luke naked.

"Oh look who's punkrock now?" I smirk at her as she brings the burning toxin to my lips. Her laugh. Sounds like fucking angels I can feel her chest moving through my shirt. "Can I be in the band now?" She raises an eyebrow.

Dropping the small bud I just laugh along with her. "hEYYY I'm serious" she wines.

"Sure you are." I smile at her.

"No offense Cal but your party blows." She looks at the lights jumping on the hardwood of the deck.

"It's more of Ashton's," I admit. One hell of a birthday. She wraps her arms around my waist and places her head on my chest. "Happy birthday Cal," she whispers.

"Thank you y/n." I can feel my pulse in my throat. Being with her makes me so comfortable but yet I feel like I'm on fire. She gets me like no one else could imagine. I place my chin on the top of her head and just hold her. I don't want this to end. "Did Ashton invite you?" curious to how she showed up. In the group chat she said she had plans this weekend. I was really disappointed because if it wasn't clear enough I like her a lot.

"Something like that." She reaches for her phone and scrolls through her text. "From Ashton at 6:58 am," she begins to read slightly pulling away to look at the screen between us. "Hey Y/n! know you're busy this weekend but that doesn't matter because Calum likes you and won't admit it but it would be cool as lemons if you could show up." I'm going to fucking kill him. I hope he likes his ashes being burnt with that fucking lemon tree. She smiles at me and I feel like I could evaporate right the fuck here. Oh Ashton. I will kill you. The door next to us opens and some random guy comes out drunk as hell. "Oh h-hey you three," His burp interrupts him, "It's a great party in thheere"

As he stumbles Y/n goes to keep him upright, but his body has other plans. The foul smell that comes from the vomit projecting on Y/n is awful. He apologizes but quickly goes back inside wiping his mouth on his shirt. "Are you okay?" I ask her equally as shocked. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment, I grab her hand without waiting for a response and drag her inside. After her many protest and looks from random people that can smell the bile on her, we make it to the stairs. There are too many fucking people here. Constantly pushing past bodies I know none of these bathrooms are cleared. I walk her down the hallway to my bedroom door when someone interrupts me. "Dude, I've been trying to get in there all night. It's locked. Complete dipshit of an owner right." He smirks reaching for a high five. I roll my eyes at his gesture and grab the key to open my door. His smirk fades into one of realization. He tries to apologize but I shut the door in his face after Y/n follows me inside.

I take off my shoes and she looks at me questioningly. "I have a bathroom in here you can use Y/n." as I relock my door. The last thing I need is for some stranger to come messing with my personal stuff.

"You shouldn't have-"

"Shut up. Some stranger just threw up on you. I would prefer to be in here with you than out there where I don't know anyone. Now go shower." She starts to argue but I just help shove her in the bathroom while closing the door. She knocks from the inside of the door, "Yes Y/n?" I smile at her playful banter.

"I need help. I can't reach the zipper" she says through the wooden door. I release the handle and nod. right she can't see me. Opening the door I walk in, "So your plan was to lock me in here?" She smiles looking through the mirror at me while moving her hair to one side of her shoulder.

"Not exactly, I was gonna kidnap you later." I grab the small zipper and begin to undo it. No wonder who the hell can hold this tiny thing. Once I get it down she thanks me. "Just throw it away okay?"

"But-" I stare at her and she agrees. Closing the door to let her shower. Clothes, she needs clothes. I walk into my closet and grab a t-shirt and her emergency bag. She came up with the idea since no one knows how to bring clothes anywhere we all have one outfit at everyone's place. Thanks to Michael she had to wear the outfit here, but her undergarments are still there.

I knock on the door and she's still in the shower so I leave the shirt and the bag on the counter in the steamy room. Walking out I take off the skinny jeans I'm wearing and change into sweats and a t-shirt.

So many options. Who ever came up with Netflix is a fucking genius. My phone buzzes next to me and I see Ashtons Name. A text, great!

From: Daddy 1:17 am

Bryana's here. Gonna go Catch up.

I just send him an 'Ok' because we all know they're still stuck on each other and there's no way in hell I'm going down there. About 20 minutes into big mouth Y/n walks out of the bathroom wearing the clothes I left for her. No one's ever looked that good in my shirt, shit I don't even look good in my shirt. "Thank you Calum" she quietly commented. "No problem." I pat the spot next to me and she climbs in the bed. I hit play on the tv remote as the show continues to play. I can't even focus on the hormone monster on the screen, this feels so fucking right. I feel her playing with my hand as she watches the screen intently. Her brow furrowing when she doesn't get the concept of Jay being a magician or the way her eyes crinkle when she laughs. I could literally just watch her all day. I mean I know she doesn't like me but I can't help but imagine what a relationship with her would be like. I don't want to jeopardize our friendship but this, this feels more important. It's just not fair I mean there's tour and I wouldn't want to be away from her that long if she were mine. I don't understand how she's single I mean look at her. And you don't find many girls with a personality like hers, she's so kind-hearted and the most humble person I know. When we were in Bali, everyone went to this pool resort and we thought she went missing for the day. But she returned home after visiting orphanages and helping at the village day clinic. I don't want to be selfish but I'll be damned if I let her go. I'm so thankful for that girlfriend of Luke's to bring her completely unbothered, outgoing, and amazing friend with her to that club in New York.

"Did you hear me?" The soft voice brings me from my thoughts. I look down at her "No what?" She starts laughing. I see a black screen on the wall and look at her quizzically. She raises her hands in defense "It's been off for the past 15 minutes." she shrugs. "You looked deep in thought." I just stay silent and look up at the ceiling. ''You can talk to me you know?" she whispers.

"Have you ever wanted something you can't have?" I ask. She chews on her bottom lip before responding.

"I suppose, I mean in regards to what?" but I cut her off, "Why'd you come tonight?"

"It's your birthday." she states clearly confused. "Ashton's text doesn't bother you?"

"I didn't think it would have to bother me?-"

"You had plans."

"You mean much more Cal." I let her words sink in. Did she like me the way I like her?or maybe she doesn't and I'm really hoping for something? No. This could never work. I don't do relationships.

"Do you wanna keep watching? " I ask her hoping she'll say yes.

"That was the last episode" she says as she turns to me a glimpse if hope in her eyes. "We can just talk Cal."

"I'm actually pretty tired." She nods, a small frown on her face as she goes and turns the light off. "Night Cal"

"Goodnight Y/n." I whisper before pulling her closer to me. I feel her muscles relax and soft snores escape her lips.

* * *

The sun in the room feels warm against my skin. Opening one eye I see the contract of the bright light against the walls. As I go to move the curtains I feel a warm presence next to me turn. Well, fuck me. Her shirt came up just the slightest to exposed her black lace panties to me and damn is it a sight. Look away. Look away. Look away.

Physically getting up from the bed she pouts and rubs her eyes. "Cal? " her slightly rasped voice speaks. "Yeah just closing the blinds. "

"Can you leave it just a tad. " she ask pulling the covers over her. "The soft light is nice. " I mean I can't say no. "Come here. " she demands and I get back in bed with her. "I should probably start cleaning soon. " I say as a line ass excited to leave the room. All I can picture is how good she looked in these panties and I need to take care of this soon.

"No you won't, since when have you cleaned? Plus I told you I'd help. " my dick is straining against these fucking briefs.

She softly traces random patterns into my skin as we just lay there admiring the room. "Cal" she mumbles.

"You've got an uh-problem. " the blood rushes to my cheeks as she notices my boner. "Sorry i-" I begin to excuse myself from the room hoping a black hole could appear. That would be great.

Surprisingly enough she pushes me to keep me in place. "It just occurred to me that I never got you a gift."

She runs her fingers over my manhood, "Can I make it up to you?"

"Y/n I don't think-" Oh fuck. My dick twitched at the sight of her removing my shirt leaving me speechless. The black lace that clung to her, which landed us in this situation, looked even better than before. "Um you -uh" I start mumbling trying not to look at her body for too long. I mean I could but I'd cum no question.

"It's either a yes or no?" as I was about to answer she started running her hand along the thin black lines. My eyes never leaving her hand as she teasingly rubbed her clit through the fabric. "You see Cal, I want you as much as you want me."

Fuck friendship. I replace her hand with my own to feel her. Fuck how long I've waited to do this. She pushes my hand away from her core while leaving open mouth kisses down my jaw. Licking my earlobe, she whispers, "You're the birthday boy."

She scoots further down the bed until her face is near my groin. This is a sight I could get used to. She slips her fingers in the band and starts pulling my briefs down. Her eyes light up once she sees my throbbing shaft. "You have such a pretty dick." Her thumb runs over my tip causing me to shudder and if possible made me harder. "Y/n you don't have to." My voice cracking a bit, why the fuck was I so nervous.

She rolls her eyes as she kisses my tip her tongue licking along the vein. She slowly begins taking me in her mouth, "Oh fuck y/n" I moan as she swallows around me, her hand pumping what she can't fit all the way. Her mouth is so warm and she's so fucking perfect. My head hits the headboard as my other hand laces itself in her curls as she bobbed her head along my length, letting every sound fall from my lips. Accidentally I pulled her hair which I was going to apologize for until she moaned. The vibrations that sexy ass sound I thrusted up. Fuck no I want to be in her.

"Y/n stop." She let her teeth graze my dick as she moved her mouth off of me. My stiffened member glowing with her saliva.

"I'm sorry this was a bad-" She started mumbling getting off the bed and fixing her hair.

"No!" I yelled surprised at my own tone. "I mean um you're great I just- I want to be in you." The redness on my cheeks very visible. She hesitates before sliding her panties off, "We don't have to I'm sorry I just thought that's where this was going and I-" She kisses me softly and I shut the hell up.

"Calm down, I was just thinking." She says straddling my lap removing her bra. "And before you ask what about well," she lines me with her entrance "It was whether I wanted a condom or not." Our moans are in unison as she slowly slides onto me. Feeling her tight walls stretch around me, her dripping arousal glistening in the soft lights of the sun. The whimper that came from her mouth as she takes all of me. "I'm on the pill and it's your birthday meaning you get the full experience." She says after a moment of her adjusting, sending a playful wink my way. She begins to move and I swear no one has ever felt this good. My hands find their way to her hips slowly rocking her back and forth.

"Fuck Cal" She whimpers as she begins to ride me. I move one of my guiding hands to find her sensitive nub, tracing small circles with the pad of my finger. She jerks back from the touch causing me to smirk, someone's sensitive. I place my thumb over her sensitive nub yet again rubbing back and forth eliciting a moan from her. “Cal I can’t-“ Grabbing her hair pulling her face closer to me, “ You can and you will, got it?” She whimpers nodding in agreement, “I’m not cumming till that pretty pussy of yours is pulsing.” Slowly grinding my hips up, grazing her g-spot with my tip. “Cal-fuck, this was supposed to be your gift.” Grabbing the back of her thigh slowly bringing her body closer to mine, I turn us so she’s underneath me.

“Go out with me and we’ll call it even yeah?” I ask her before continuing to thrust into her. Our moans fall in unison as I pick up the pace. Thrusting into her faster than the time before, the only sounds heard throughout are those of our moans and skin clapping together. My mouth finds its way to her neck, assaulting the soft skin in the area- leaving a reminder for this evening. I can feel her tightening around me, edging me close to my own release. “Cal I’m close.” She manages to mutter as I find my way back to her clit, rubbing fast purposeful circles. Watching the way her pants and moans fall through her lips to the glistening of her chest as it rises and falls with each breath. The sight being enough to drive me to the brink of insanity, “Cum for me y/n.” Almost instantly her eyes roll back as she arches her back, her pussy tightening without mercy forcing my own orgasm to appear. My hips jut forward as I release into her , slowly edging us both along. Our panting is the only thing to be heard as a gently collapse on top of her. “Did you mean it?” She ask, moving the hair from my forehead.

“If you mean me asking you out, yes.” She smiles and pulls my face closer to hers. “took you long enough.” She whispers before attaching her lips to mine.

A/N: (Also posted to Wattpad) I hope you enjoyed it. I'm actually really happy, I've been doing quite a bit of writing so yay! We have another calum smut blurb on the way.I also need help deciding who's the endgame for my Loki/Bucky love triangle but all with time. Anyways I hope you're all having a wonderful weekend!

XOXO Janelle

[pazumane-archive]

Closing Time - Asahi x Reader

Characters: Asahi Azumane, female reader, original female character, small Taichi cameo

Relationships: Asahi Azumane x Reader

Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort if you squint, SFW but 16+ please

Warnings: Alcohol, general drunken shenanigans, emetophobia (mentions of vomit), bad language

WC: 6.4k

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! This is a totally self-indulgent bedtime-scenario-type story because there is simply not enough Asahi/Reader content out there and I adore him. It’s also my first time writing in 2nd person, so PLEASE feel free to send me any feedback, please just be kind :) I really don’t like to use y/n, so I only used it a couple times towards the end when I wasn’t sure what else to do lol

The preview begins with the bolded text below and fic continues after the cut :)

Reblogs appreciated! <3

You weren’t planning on getting this drunk. But by the time it got to be about 11:30, you didn’t know what else to do. You had put so much effort and energy into making yourself look nice just for your date not to show up. Your roommate was out of town, so instead of going home and pouting, you figured you might as well have some fun while you were out. But you’ve never been good at exercising restraint, and the fact that you were alone wasn’t doing you any favors. But by closing time had rolled around, you could hardly see straight. You needed help, so you call upon an old friend.

“Do you have anybody you can call for a ride?” Kawanishi asks.

Kawanishi’s the bartender at this izakaya, and over the course of the night, you spent most of the time talking his ear off. He’s nice enough, and held pleasant conversation for the last few hours. He says he used to be a volleyball player, and had even played on the same team as a one of the guys on the Japan National Team. You forget to ask him which school he attended, but he probably was tired of talking to your drunk ass anyway, so you don’t bother asking. “Yeah,” you say, digging in your purse for your phone. “Are you sure? I can call a cab for you if you need it,” he offers. “Nah,” you say, hiccupping between words. “I’ll call somebody. Thank you though.” “No problem,” he says. “Just try to make it quick.” You scroll through your phone, trying to figure out who to call. Your roommate’s out of town visiting her parents, so she’s a no-go. You could call Kokomi. Honestly, she would deserve the 2AM phone call for setting you up on this failed blind date in the first place. Ever since you moved to Tokyo last month, she was constantly trying to set you up with somebody, whether it was a friend, a coworker, or some rando that she had met on the train. Unfortunately, all of them were jerks. And this one was the biggest jerk of all. You silently curse yourself for going along with her antics again.

“He’s great, you’ll love him!” “You said that about the last three guys you tried to set me up with, Kokomi.” “Please!! You’ll never know if you don’t even give him a chance.”

Well, you gave him a chance. And it ended up with you all alone, drunk as hell in an unfamiliar part of the city. You dial Kokomi’s number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Bitch,” you mutter. You unlock your phone again and look through to find somebody that might be able to take you home. You scroll back to the top of your contact list, and your eyes settle on another name. He lives just a few blocks away, and knowing him, he’s probably awake working on something anyway. You click on his contact and wait for him to answer.

*

The exhaustion’s starting to get to him. It’s the weekend and he can afford to stay up an extra couple of hours to finish this design, but the combination of fatigue and frustration are taking over. He sets down his pencil and moves towards his bed, until his cell starts to buzz. He glances over at the clock on the wall. 1:49 AM.

Who could possibly be calling at this hour?

Asahi picks up his phone, surprised to see your name on the screen. His heart skips a beat in his chest, both from excitement and nervousness. Aside from his teammates, you’re one of the only people he bothered to keep in contact with after high school. The two of you had even met up a few times since you moved to the city, but he never would have expected you to call at this hour unless… unless something is wrong. “Hey you, what’s up?” He says, choking back a yawn. “Hiiiii Asahiiii!  I tried to call Kokomi but she didn’t answer her phone… could you come pick me up?” Your voice is thick and your words are almost unintelligible as you speak. It’s obvious that you’re far from sober. “Where are you?” Asahi asks, failing to mask the anxiety in his voice. “Are you okay? Are you safe?” “M’fine,” you slur. “But I…” Suddenly the call drops. Asahi calls you back in a panic, his heart racing as he waited for you to answer. You could be in danger and he’d be powerless to help you. He doesn’t even know where you are. “Hello?” A man’s voice comes through the speaker. “Who are you? Where is she?” Asahi asks frantically. “Relax, man. I’m just the bartender,” he says. “Look, your friend’s next to me, but she’s on the verge of passing out. Can you come get her before she pukes all over my bar? She’s at Zoetrope. You know where that is?” “Of course, I’m on my way now! I’ll be there in ten minutes,” Asahi says, grabbing his apartment keys and putting on a pair of shoes. He’s out the door almost immediately.

*

Kawanishi presses your phone back into your hands. Your head is spinning so fast that you struggle to keep your eyes open. “Is he coming?” you ask. “Yeah, he’s on the way,” Kawanishi says. “He’ll be here soon. Now do me a favor, don’t get this drunk the next time you come into my izakaya or I’ll have to kick you out.” “You’re kicking me out???” “Only if you start throwing up,” he says under his breath. “I’m not going to throw up!” you exclaim, suddenly becoming very aware of the churning in your stomach. You grumble, slumping over the bar. You squeeze your eyes shut, the spinning in your head only getting worse with every breath you take. You feel like you’re going to die, and honestly, between the embarrassment of being stood up and the wave of nausea coming over you, you’re ready to welcome that death with open arms. “Hey!” Kawanishi says, smacking the bar next to your head. “Your friend’s going to be here soon, don’t fall asleep or I’ll throw you out on the street myself.” “I’m sorry, Kawanishi-san.” You sit up slowly and cradle your head in your hands once more, trying to make the world stop spinning.

Please get here soon, Asahi.

*

Asahi sprints down the street as fast as he can towards the izakaya. He’s sure that he looks suspicious running down the street alone at night, but he doesn’t care. You’re in trouble, and he’s the only person that can help you. He finally makes it to the bar and hastily pulls the door open. You’re dressed beautifully, and your makeup and hair are exquisitely done. Unfortunately, the way you’re slumped over the bar makes it obvious that something’s wrong. He’s not sure what happened, but whatever it was, it must have been rough. The bartender gently helps you out of your seat, and Asahi can’t help but think that he looks very familiar. You straighten up and as soon as you make eye contact with Asahi, you perk up. “Asahi-san!” you exclaim, rushing towards him and almost falling over. You crush him in an unexpectedly tight hug. “Long time no see, big guy!” “I saw you three days ago,” he says under his breath. You continue babbling unintelligibly, and Asahi looks up at the bartender. “Did she close out her tab?” Asahi asks. “I took care of it already,” the bartender replies. “Please just make sure she gets home okay. She’s had a rough night.” “Yeah, of course,” Asahi says. “Thanks for helping her out.” “No problem.” Asahi peels your arms off him and starts to nudge you towards the door. Just before the two of you leave, Asahi stops and turns back to the bartender. “Have we met before?” he asks. “I played for Shiratorizawa. Didn’t think I’d see you again, Karasuno Samurai.” Asahi frowns slightly. He hasn’t heard that nickname high school, and it’s weird hearing it again now. “Right,” he says. “Well, thanks again. Have a good night.” Asahi leads you out of the bar and down the sidewalk. You hold tightly to his arm, stumbling over yourself. He braces you against his side, and you take this opportunity to tease him a little bit. “Do you like my outfit, Asahi-san?” you ask, pressing into his side. “Yeah, it’s really nice!” he answers nervously, turning his head to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. He’s not lying – you look beautiful, both your top and your skirt accentuating your curves in all the right places. But it would be wrong to say anything more than that while you’re in this state. That wouldn’t be fair to either of you. He brusquely clears his throat and keeps walking as soon as the light signals that you can cross. “I dressed up extra nice tonight, but it didn’t even fucking matter,” you grumble, your voice breaking slightly. Asahi either doesn’t hear you, or does hear you and decides not to say anything. “I’m soooo glad you’re here,” you say, drawing out your words even longer than you were a minute ago. “I’m sorry, this is super embarrassing! I should’ve figured this out on my own.” “It’s okay,” Asahi says. “How long have you been in Tokyo again?” “A month? I think?” “Exactly,” he says. “You probably don’t know your way around that much. I’d feel terrible if I wasn’t able to help you find your way home.” “Meh,” you say. “I’ve had the worst night of my fucking life, so maybe it would be better if I passed out in a ditch somewhere.” “Do you want to talk about it?” Asahi asks. “No,” you answer quickly. “Okay.” You start blathering again and Asahi has to practically drag you down the street behind him. The station just past his apartment has a train that can drop you right by your building. He can just take a cab back after he gets you home. He considers inviting you stay the night at his place since it’s right there, but he’s afraid of being weird, so he doesn’t say anything. The two of you come to a stop at the train station… which is closed. “I’m sorry,” Asahi says remorsefully. “I guess the train stopped running at midnight. I’ll call you a cab.” He goes to pull his phone out of his pocket, but you grab his hand before he can. “Can I stay at your place tonight?” you ask sheepishly. “I… my roommate is out of town. And I’m really not doing good right now. I just really don’t want to be alone.” Despite how out of it you’ve been since he picked you up, Asahi sees nothing but complete sincerity in your eyes. Tonight must have been really rough. “Are you sure?” he asks. “I’ll just sleep on the couch- or a futon if you have one!” you say, nodding. “Okay.” Asahi turns back towards his apartment and you follow closely behind him, not letting go of his hand the entire time.

*

Asahi helps you across the threshold of his apartment and sits you down on a chair by the door. “Asahi-san, you’re so handsome with your hair down like that,” you say, reaching up to twirl a finger in his long chestnut tresses. “And you’re loopy,” Asahi mutters, disentangling your fingers from his hair. Once again, he finds himself hiding a blush. He’s not used to being showered with compliments, and he knows you wouldn’t be saying this stuff if you were sober. He kicks off his shoes and kneels down in front of you, helping you take yours off. “How are you feeling?” he asks you. “Can I get you some water or a some–” “Why didn’t you ask me out when we were in high school?” you ask suddenly. “I think I made it pretty obvious that I had a crush on you. It’s all I could think about when you were holding my hand back there.” “I – I, uh,” Asahi stammers. You burst out laughing, startling Asahi. It’s that same boisterous laugh you’ve had for as long as he could remember knowing you. You were always self-conscious about it in high school, but your laugh has always been one of Asahi’s favorite things about you. Despite the fact that it’s at his expense, he’s glad to see your mood improve. Asahi considers your question for a moment. He really liked you too back then, and everyone knew it. Suga and Daichi constantly teased him for it.

So why hadn’t he asked you out back then?

Well, for a number of reasons. He spent so much of his third year focused on volleyball that he didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for much else. He hadn’t even planned on going back to school after graduation until Nishinoya helped convince him to pursue his passions. He felt directionless, and he didn’t want to burden anybody else with his indecision. But most importantly, he was scared you’d reject him. Suga was right. He really was a coward. He’d dated a few people since high school graduation, but none of them made him feel the way you did, and they didn’t treat him as well as you would have. Which begs the question – why hasn’t he asked you out since you moved to Tokyo? He pushes the thought to the back of his mind. This isn’t the kind of conversation to be having when you aren’t even able to form a coherent sentence. Asahi’s thoughts are interrupted by your hand on his shoulder and a loud hiccup. “I should wash my face. Can I wash my face?” “Sure,” Asahi says, helping you stand up. You stumble forward, but he catches you easily and pulls you back to your feet. He quietly leads you to the bathroom and sits you down on the edge of the bathtub. “I’m sorry,” you say. “I’m a mess.” “No, you’re not. Hold on a second,” he says, opening the drawer under the sink. He pulls out a small package of makeup wipes and takes one out. He kneels in front of you and begins wiping the makeup off your face. “I know they’re not great for your skin,” he says. “But it’s better than nothing, right?” “Why do you even have those?” you ask between hiccups. “Do you wear makeup? I mean, it’s obviously fine if you do, but it doesn’t really seem like your thing.” “I don’t, but you never know when they’ll come in handy! I do work with a lot of makeup artists,” he says, somewhat defensively. You get the sense that he’s lying about something, but Asahi changes the subject before you can probe him any further. “So what were you doing there by yourself?” he asks. “It’s not safe to be alone so late at night.” Clearly this was the wrong thing to ask. All the negative emotions and thoughts you were having all even spring to the forefront of your mind, and you start to cry. Asahi starts apologizing profusely, but you wave him off. “It’s fine,” you sniffle, wiping a tear away from your cheek. “Kokomi was trying to set me up with one of her friends, but he never showed up.” Asahi sits back on his heels. Kokomi is another girl from Karasuno that ended up in Tokyo. She wasn’t in the same class as him, but he remembers how loud she always was in the hallways. Honestly, both of you were always loud, but you’ve always been much more considerate of others than Kokomi ever was. “Shit,” he mumbles. “That really sucks. I’m sorry.” “Yeah. It does suck.” Asahi grabs another wipe and asks you to close your eyes. You do as he says, and he lightly wipes off your eye makeup. He’s worked with enough models to recognize that you’re wearing false eyelashes, so he gently pulls those off too. You feel yourself start to wobble on the edge of the tub, so you grip his arm to steady yourself. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me.” “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” you ask suddenly. “Wait, what?” “I just… this keeps happening to me. Everyone always says that it’s because they’re not the right person for me, but it’s starting to feel like there’s just something wrong with me instead,” you say, choking back a sob. “I know I just moved here, but I’m just so lonely. I hate feeling like I’m not good enough.” Asahi tenderly wipes a tear from your cheek and cups your face in both hands. “Hey, look at me. There is nothing wrong with you,” he says sincerely. “That guy is an idiot and a jerk. If he had any idea how extraordinary you are, he never would’ve done that to you.” You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eyes. You don’t feel like you deserve to be spoken to like this – with such genuine kindness and sincerity. Asahi makes you feel so good. So special. He always has. And he’s just so… tender, especially for somebody who looks as intimidating as he does. You wonder if those feelings from high school ever truly went away. You sit up straighter and try to smile at him, but your stomach flips unexpectedly and violently. “Asahi-san?” you ask, gripping his shoulder tightly. “Yeah?” he replies. “Toilet.” Asahi moves out of the way as fast as possible. You hunch over the rim and retch into the toilet bowl. Asahi quickly scoops up your hair and holds it behind your head as you throw up. “Please, just leave me,” you mutter. “I’m gonna fucking die here.” “I’m not going to leave you here and you’re not going to die,” Asahi says, gingerly picking up the last loose strands laying on your neck and holding them back with the rest of your hair. Your back tenses up again before you begin heaving once more. Asahi tucks his nose into the collar of his shirt, careful to make sure that he’s out of your field of vision. He wants to be there for you but he had a weak stomach himself and the sight and smell of somebody else’s vomit is something he knows he won’t be able to handle. You mumble weak apologies between hacks, but Asahi just ignores them and rubs your back gently. After what feels like an eternity, the churning in your stomach finally stops and you reach up towards the flush handle. The exhaustion in your body and heart finally begin to catch up with you, and your hand falls back to your side. “I got it. Do you think you’re done?” Asahi asks, coaxing you back up into a seated position. You nod, too tired to try to speak. Asahi quickly tugs his shirt back down from his face before you can see and closes the toilet lid. “I’m sorry,” you mumble. “Don’t be,” Asahi says, flushing the toilet. “I’m your friend. I want to help you. And I’ve already told you that you don’t need to apologize to me.” Asahi helps you sit on the top of the toilet and rises to his feet. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says, scurrying out of the room. Although your eyes are closed, you still feel your body swaying. More than anything, you just want to go to sleep. Asahi pads back into the room and presses a wooden cup into your hands. “Drink this,” he says, turning on the faucet. Even though drinking something is the last thing you want to be doing right now, you go ahead and lift the cup to your open mouth. Cold water passes your lips and washes away some of the disgusting taste in your mouth. It feels gross, but you force yourself to drink all of it. Asahi takes the cup from your hand and turns the faucet back off. You flinch at the feeling of a damp washcloth on your face. “It’s okay,” Asahi says gently, cradling your chin with his free hand and angling your face up. “Just cleaning you up a little.” You murmur in acknowledgement and Asahi continues to wipe your face down. You almost fall asleep sitting on his toilet, but he gently shakes you to keep you awake. “Stay with me for another minute,” he says softly. “You can go to sleep soon. You’re gonna be just fine. I promise.” His words and his voice are so sweet that you want to cry. A couple rogue tears drip from your eyes and onto his hands. “I’m sorry,” you say once more. Asahi sets the washcloth on the counter and starts to pull you to your feet. You struggle to stay on your feet, so instead, he carefully scoops you into his arms and carries you out the bathroom. You don’t care where you go, you just need to sleep. Asahi’s pretty certain you’re asleep by the time he deposits you on his mattress. Your chest rises and falls slowly as he pulls his duvet over you. He begins to make his way to the couch, but stops when he feels you grab his hand. “Please don’t go, Asahi-san,” you whisper. “Please.” You tug harder at his fingers and he knows he can’t refuse you. He ends up sitting on the edge of the bed holding your hand until you fall asleep.

*

As soon as your quiet snores permeate the silence, Asahi untangles his fingers from yours. He brushes a loose strand of hair out of your face and he can’t help but let his eyes linger on your sleeping face for just a moment. The moonlight trickling through the window illuminates your hair and casts a silvery glow on your skin. Despite the awful night you’ve had, you look absolutely radiant. He feels himself blushing again, but he takes some comfort in the fact that he doesn’t have to try and hide it this time. Not while you’re fast asleep in his bed. He’s far too scared to admit it, even to himself, but he’s fantasized about falling asleep next to you many times before. But in those fantasies you weren’t drunk and crying over another man. Asahi sighs, stands up, and moves over to the dresser as quietly as he can. After setting a few things out for you, he goes into the bathroom, gets ready for bed and heads to the couch for the night.

*

By the time you wake up in the morning, you feel like you’re going to die. You can’t remember what exactly happened the previous night. The last thing you remember clearly was talking to the bartender about high school volleyball, of all things. Your head’s pounding, and your stomach aches painfully, screaming at you to please eat something. You don’t open your eyes, fearing that it would somehow trigger another round of vomiting. Eventually, you force yourself into a seated position and open your eyes. The bedroom you’re in is small, but pretty well-decorated. It’s decently tidy. The only mess is a few crumpled up clothing designs discarded on the floor next to the trash bin.

Designs? Did that mean?

You’re at Asahi’s apartment. In his bed. Your eyes widen in panic.

  What happened last night?

You’re still wearing the clothes that you wore to the bar last night. And there’s no evidence of him ever being in bed with you. You reach over towards your phone, which has been graciously plugged in for you and set on the bedside table. That’s when you notice the note along with a sleeve of crackers and a glass of ginger ale.

Good morning!

There’s a set of clothes you can wear at the foot of the bed and a spare toothbrush in the bathroom. Feel free to take a shower if you want. Extra towels are underneath the sink. Please have something to eat and drink too. You’ll feel better if you do.

-Asahi

P.S. Please don’t feel bad. It’s okay.

You grab a few of the crackers from the bedside table and eat them, washing them down with the ginger ale.

Why does Asahi have to be so damn considerate? The whole situation is so embarrassing.

You contemplate just grabbing your phone and getting the hell out of his apartment, but you’re not going to pass up the opportunity to shower. You finish the last of the crackers, chug down the ginger ale, and grab the spare clothes at the end of the bed. You turn the doorknob as silently as you can and awkwardly creep down the hall towards the bathroom, stopping briefly to peek in the living room. Asahi’s fast asleep on the couch, clad only in pajama pants and a pair of fuzzy socks. His hair is down and messily splayed across the throw pillow he’s resting his head on. Quiet snores pass his lips. He looks cute. Your eyes trail from his face and down to his stomach. Despite quitting volleyball after high school, he seems to have mostly maintained his athletic form, except for a tiny little layer of pudge on his lower stomach. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile, until that little voice in the back of your mind reminds you of your place.

Quit staring, you perv! You need to get out of here!

You hurriedly continue down the hallway and jump into the shower as soon as you get into the bathroom. You think that maybe if you clean up fast enough, you can get out of Asahi’s apartment before he wakes up. However, as soon as you step into the shower, all worries about rushing out disappear into the back of your mind. You bask in the hot water, the steam clearing your sinuses and relieving some of the pain in your head. You silently thank the gods that Asahi actually uses conditioner, and not just 3-in-1 like most of the other men you were previously…. acquainted with. Although, it makes sense to you that somebody with hair like Asahi’s would have a strict haircare routine. As you shower, fragmented memories of last night start to come back to you.

Being stood up at the bar. Calling Asahi for help. Puking your guts out in his bathroom. Him carrying you into his room and laying you down on his bed. Him staying by your side until you fell asleep. You wishing he would’ve crawled into bed with you and held you through the night… Wait, what was that last part?

As soon as you’re done rinsing the conditioner from your hair, you step out of the shower and swiftly towel off. You find the spare toothbrush Asahi mentioned, take it out of the packaging, and brush your teeth with his toothpaste. The dry, gross feeling in your mouth is quickly replaced with a minty fresh taste. You slip on the sweatpants and t-shirt that Asahi left for you and dry your hair. Thankfully, Asahi isn’t as huge as most people make him out to be, so while the clothes he left out are a bit big on you, you’re not drowning in them. You’ll just bring them back some other day. You start combing through your hair, and that’s when you hear it – the sound of somebody padding around in the apartment. Shit. Once the footsteps quiet down, you rush out of the bathroom and towards the front door. Asahi eyes you as you scoop up your shoes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Good morning!” he says kindly. “How are you feeling?” “I’m so sorry Azumane-san, it won’t happen again!” you say as you throw open the door and rush into the hallway. “Hold on, wait up!” he says as you pull the door closed behind you. You run all the way to the stairs at the end of the hallway and go to call Kokomi for a ride home. That’s when you realize that your phone is still plugged into the wall in Asahi’s room. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You turn around and trudge back towards his apartment. Before you can even knock, the door opens slowly. Asahi stands there in just his pajama pants, holding your phone out to you. “You shouldn’t leave without your phone,” he says. You thank him and take your phone, a blush creeping up your cheeks. You try not to stare at his bare chest, already feeling like a creep for ogling him while he was sleeping. “Your clothes are still in the bathroom, too,” he says. “I can go get them for you. Or I can just wash them and give them back to you another time if you want to leave.” “No, that’s okay,” you say, covering your flushing cheeks with the collar of his shirt. “I’ll get them. Can I come in?” “Of course.” Asahi steps out of your way and you head straight for the bathroom, avoiding looking in his eyes. Asahi never gets angry, and you know he wouldn’t be mad at you over something like this, but a lingering sense of shame still washes over you. You scoop up your clothes and leave the bathroom. As soon as you cross the threshold into the living room, the smell of coffee and frying fish washes over you. Asahi stands in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. In the time that you were in the bathroom, he put on a Black Jackals sweatshirt and threw his hair into a loose bun. “Do you want a cup of coffee?” he asks, smiling at you and pouring his own cup. “It’ll help with the hangover.” You stand there and ponder his offer for a moment. Sensing your hesitancy, Asahi suddenly turns back to the stove and mumbles something that you can’t quite make out. “What did you say?” you ask. Asahi rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit he’s had since you were kids. “I don’t mean to pressure you to stay or anything! I just thought it might help for you to have something more than crackers and ginger ale.” “You’ve done plenty to help me since last night,” you say. “But I’ll take that coffee if the offer is still on the table.” “It is!” Asahi says a little too enthusiastically for his own good. You can’t help but smirk as you take your seat at the kitchen table. Asahi pours you a cup of coffee and slides you a bowl of the rice and fish he made. You thank him quietly and start to eat. He slides into the chair across from you and eats his own breakfast, eyeing you carefully. “What?” you ask after catching him staring. “Since when have you ever called me Azumane-san?” he asks. “I don’t know,” you mumble into your coffee mug. “I didn’t think we reverted back from first name basis,” he says. “I thought we knew each other better than that.” “I don’t know,” you say, a devilish smile crossing your face. “Care to explain why you actually had those makeup wipes in your bathroom drawer? I doubt your makeup artists are coming over to your apartment.” Now it’s Asahi’s turn to blush again. “My ex-girlfriend left them here,” he says. “Felt like a waste to just throw them out.” “Ex-girlfriend?!” you exclaim suddenly, startling Asahi and causing him to drop the wipe on the floor. “I didn’t know you were seeing somebody!” “Yeah,” he says, throwing the wipe in the trash and grabbing a fresh one. “We broke up a while before you moved to the city. She left a bunch of her stuff here and refused to come pick it up. I think she was just too embarrassed to see me again. I got rid of most of it a while ago, but I kept some of the more… uh, utilitarian things.” “I’m sorry,” you say sincerely. “Why did you break up?” Asahi feels a slight pang in his chest. He met his last girlfriend through his job. She was nice enough, and things seemed like they were going okay until he showed up at her apartment to surprise her for their 6 month anniversary, only to find another man in her bed. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say. “It’s fine. She cheated on me with some other guy,” he says, his expression darkening. “I think they’re engaged now.” “Shit,” you say. “What a bitch.” “Woah, settle down, it’s okay –” “No, it’s not,” you say firmly. “You deserve someone way better than that. Somebody that treats you with the love and respect that you deserve.” Asahi knows you’re right, but he doesn’t really want to press it. That whole mess had done a number on his mental health, and he really doesn’t want to burden you with his emotional baggage. He adjusts his glasses again and forces a smile. “You know, you should really take your own advice,” he says. You try to think back on what you had said to him last night. The details are fuzzy, but you remember crying. A lot. Instead of answering him, you shovel down the last of the rice and fish. “Thank you for the meal,” you say. Asahi smiles and nods at you before beginning to clear the dishes away. You stand up and stop him, insisting that you clean up yourself. As you finish drying the bowls, your phone buzzes. You check it, only to see a handful of missed texts from Kokomi.

Ono Kokomi [8:32} Hey!! Sorry I missed your call. How was he?  (°◡°♡) [9:14] That good?  (^.~)☆ [9:18] Or that bad?! (;;;*_*) [9:57] HELLO?? (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ [10:32] ARE YOU ALIVE?!?!?!  〣( ºΔº )〣

You roll your eyes and quickly type out your response.

Y/N [10:33] Yeah, no thanks to you. (￢_￢;)

Ono Kokomi [10:34] Was it really that bad?

Y/N [10:34] He didn’t even show up. (╥_╥) [10:34] Azumane picked me up at 2 AM because I was too drunk to go home alone. I stayed the night at his place. [10:34] Speaking of which, can you come pick me up? Not really in a state to take the train and I think you owe me one.

Ono Kokomi [10:35] (⊙_⊙) [10:35] Spill. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Y/N [10:36] There’s nothing to spill. I threw up in his bathroom and he slept on the couch. Can you just answer my question please? (҂` ﾛ ´)凸

Ono Kokomi [10:36] Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’m on my way, lovebird. (￣ε￣＠)

“Everything okay?” Asahi asks. “Yeah,” you say, slipping your phone back into your pocket. “Kokomi’s going to come pick me up.” “Are you sure? I can take you if you want,” he offers. “Yeah, she’s already on her way,” you say, setting the bowl down and turning to face him. “Besides, you’ve done more than enough for me already over the last twelve hours.” You silently pick up your things and walk towards the door. Asahi rises from his chair and awkwardly clears his throat. “Do you have all your stuff?” You nod and smile. Before you open the door, you approach him and wrap your arms around his waist. He shyly hugs you back, hoping you can’t hear the rapid pounding in his chest. “Thank you, Asahi,” you whisper. “You’re amazing.” You let go first and leave his apartment quietly. As soon as the door closes, Asahi walks back into the living room and flops down on the couch. He covers his face with his hands and groans. This morning was almost too much for him – seeing you in his clothes, eating breakfast together, you hugging him before you left. It was all so painfully domestic, and he wishes it didn’t have to end. If only he wasn’t such a coward, he would’ve asked you to stay longer. He doesn’t know how long he lays there until he finally decides to get moving for the day and finish that piece he was working on when you called last night. He checks his phone and sees your name pop up on the screen.

Y/N [11:00] I’m home. Thanks again for babysitting me last night. Whatever did I do to deserve you as my guardian angel? ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊˚ [11:00] Or was that Noya-san? I forget. (^ω~)

Azumane Asahi [11:01] Lol. You’re welcome. And that was what we called Noya in our club days, but I don’t mind you calling me that too (* ^ ω ^)

Y/N [11:03] Let me make it up to you. [11:04] Come over for dinner tomorrow night?

Asahi almost drops his phone on his face. His fingers fumble as he types his response. He waits a moment before sending it, rereading it ten times to make sure he doesn’t come across as desperate.

Azumane Asahi [11:07] I’d love to. Do you want me to bring anything?

Y/N [11:08] That’s not necessary. I owe you a nice dinner. [11:09] You still like tonkotsu ramen?

Azumane Asahi [11:10] I do!

Y/N [11:11] It��s a date! See you tomorrow! (☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)

*

“You said nothing happened last night,” Kokomi says, staring over your shoulder at your phone. “Nothing happened, Kokomi. Now leave me alone,” you snap, tossing one of your throw pillows at her. She deftly catches it and plops down on the couch next to you. “Please,” she says, swatting you with the pillow. “The only reason you two haven’t gotten together is because you’re the densest people on the planet. I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” “Shut up,” you grumble. Kokomi’s phone rings and she quickly checks it. “Anyway, I have to go meet Kaito,” she says. “Got to go. Let me know how your date goes!” She waves and practically skips out the front door. You lay down and start making a shopping list for ingredients for tonkatsu ramen. As soon as you’re done, you set your phone down and cross your arms over your face.

“I bet he’s flopped down on his couch right now thinking about how he doesn’t even want to wait that long to see you.” No, Kokomi. That’s me.

[andypantsx3]

if i could keep cool | 1

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 20,322 words / 6 chapters

summary: A villain attacks Shouto Todoroki’s apartment and kidnaps what he apparently believes to be Todoroki’s secret lover. The bad news—for both you and the villain in question—is that you’re just there to clean the place. That’s how it starts.

tags: romance, reader-insert, accidental sugar daddy shouto, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

You’d been alone inside Shouto Todoroki’s apartment when the villain attacked.

In your defense, you were supposed to be there. Twice a week, for three hours apiece, you turned up to clean the place, dusting, remaking his bed, and scrubbing down the modern kitchen surfaces that you were fairly certain were going unused in the first place.

You weren’t actually supposed to know who owned the high rise, but the personal effects he kept around hardly made any secret of it--a few simply framed photographs of him with his siblings and his friends at school dotted the shelves in the living room, crates of fan mail were often delivered to his door during your shifts, and you’d seen his hero costume dumped in a hamper on more than one occasion.

You’d been excited to find this out at first, as you were just as much a hero fan as the next girl--particularly heroes who were as handsome and infinitely memeable as Todoroki--but you’d tamped down on your enthusiasm in order to keep things professional. It would kind of suck to be a celebrity and find out that some rando fan let themselves into your apartment on the regular and could help themselves to your stuff if they really wanted to.

You had almost considered asking your manager for reassignment when you’d first figured out just whose apartment you were cleaning, in order to keep things purely professional, but Todoroki’s schedule worked well with your own class schedule, and the money didn’t hurt either. The tips either he or his manager left for you were pretty hefty, and it was nice to treat yourself to groceries that weren’t ramen. He was keeping you in fresh vegetables and a Netflix subscription, so in the end you didn’t ask for reassignment--you were a college student, not a saint.

In retrospect, though, maybe you should have. Because one afternoon in late September, the large wall of windows that looked out into the city shattered with violent force, and a huge figure landed in the living room, glass crunching underneath their heavy boots.

You’d just barely managed to catch sight of a wicked looking scar twisting half of the villain’s face before you’d thrown yourself behind the kitchen island you’d been wiping down, landing heavily on your shoulder. That hadn’t saved you, though. You’d been hauled out across the scattered glass, the shards scraping through your clothes to tear at your back and elbows, and looked up into the face of the furious-looking man.

You hadn’t had time to scream, or beg for your life, or whatever other insanely embarrassing thing you might have done, before a fist connected with the base of your skull, and you were falling into darkness, the man’s features and the clean lines of the apartment around you slipping into black.

Now, you awoke in the dark, a musty scent like dust and slow decay pressing into your nose like a heavy rag. Your eyes flickered open, but the world seemed just as dark as behind your eyelids. In the dim, you could just barely make out cement floors studded with dirt and debris, and gaping cutouts in the wall across from you, pitch black with shadow. They were rectangular in shape, and huge--truck ports, maybe? Were you in a warehouse?

You made to move, but something tugged at your wrists, and you realized with a growing sense of horror that your arms were bound behind your back with rough rope, looped through slats in the chair you’d awoken in. Your head whipped up, and the back of your neck screamed in protest, sore from what had likely been hours of you lolling unconscious.

The thin, wavering sound of something like a radio static filtered from somewhere over your shoulder, and you could just make out low tones of a radio broadcaster: “Pro hero Shouto Todoroki’s apartment was broken into early this afternoon...the perpetrator of the crime is still at large…”

That’s right--Todoroki’s apartment. Your heartbeat instantly kicked into high gear. Where were you? Why were you here? Who was that man in Todoroki’s apartment? Had he taken you here? But why?

A boot crunched in the dirt behind you and you stiffened.

“Awake now?” a voice spat, laced with pure malice. The tone sent shivers down your spine.

The pair of boots crunched towards you, rounding the edge of your chair until you could look up into the face of the villain from before, the man with the horrible scar. It twisted and warped the skin over half of his face, the flesh melted into itself like he’d been held down against a hot stove. An equally horrible grin cut into the harsh line of his mouth.

“Who are you? Where am I? Why am I here?” you demanded. Your voice came out high and quavery, and you could have cringed at how absolutely terrified you sounded.

He raised an eyebrow like you’d just asked the dumbest series of questions he’d ever heard.

“Oh, I think you know why you’re here,” he sneered. His eyes were dark, almost black in the gloom of the warehouse.

A twisting wave of frustration washed over you. No you didn’t know why you were here. You’d been wiping down a fucking counter one minute and the next you’d woken up in some creepy warehouse with no idea of where in the world you might be.

“I don’t,” you said, frustrated. “Please, I don’t have any money. Whatever you want, I can’t get it to you.”

He stared down at you impassively, the radio static crackling in the background. “I don’t want money, you fucking brat. I want revenge.”

You stared at him. Revenge? You’d never even met this guy before, what the hell could you have possibly done to him that he would need revenge on you? The extent of your crimes against anyone, as far as you knew, only included arguing with people on twitter and once--drunk at a bar--peeing in the men’s room before you realized it wasn’t the ladies’ toilet. Gender was a social construct, anyway. It wasn’t that bad.

Your blank look seemed to irritate him, and he placed a booted foot on yours, deliberately grinding his heel down on your toes until you felt your bones creak. You bit down on a yelp.

“Don’t play stupid, you little shit. I know he’ll come for you.”

What? Who would come for you?

The radio signal seemed to catch again, and the newscaster’s stately voice reported from over your shoulder. “--Hero Commission received a message from the villain that they are holding Todoroki’s secret lover hostage. We’ve received comment from a PR representative at the Todoroki agency--”

Your stomach dropped in horror as you considered the smug expression that twisted the villain’s face. Oh no.

No.

No way.

Did he think you….?

Dread coiled into a hard pit in your gut. Oh, you were so absolutely fucked. Shouto Todoroki had never so much as heard of you, nevermind invited you into his bed. As far as you could tell, he had no current lover, as his apartment had only ever evidenced the single occupant.

He’d been linked in the media to a couple models and an actress, but it seemed unclear if that was any more than speculation. In the year you’d worked at the cleaning service, there’d never been anything like an extra toothbrush or an abandoned pair of underwear to give away another person’s presence, though you had sometimes seen evidence of his friends; things like a forgotten All Might sweatshirt that clearly belonged to notorious fan boy and current number one hero Deku, or a neatly prepared container of soup you’d seen in the fridge once with a note that read eat this you fucking fuck and if you get me sick I’ll kill you that you strongly suspected came from the foul-mouthed hero Ground Zero.

So unless those were to be taken as signs of a blossoming romance, there was nothing that strongly hinted at the presence of a lover.

You were frankly flabbergasted that this villain had assumed, just because you’d been alone in his apartment at the time, that you of all people could have been that to him.

And you were even more concerned now, as there was absolutely no way Shouto Todoroki was going to come haring in to save someone who did not exist.

What was the villain going to do when he realized that no one was coming for you? Or worse, when he realized you were no one to anyone, and your presence would hardly be missed? Was it better to try and clear up the misunderstanding now? What would he do when the dots connected?

The villain smirked, mistaking your horror. “That’s right, brat. He was supposed to be there, but you'll do just as well. He’ll come for you, and when he does, I’m going to do to him exactly what he did to me.” He gestured to the scarred side of his face and you winced.

So it hadn’t been a hot stove.

“I think you have it wrong,” you said a little desperately. “I’m not--I don’t even know Todoroki. I’m a cleaning lady.”

He rolled his eyes. “Nice try. I’ll just let you walk free then, shall I?”

Your fingers dug into the rope behind your back. “Um, ideally, yes.”

He bit out a harsh laugh, that horrible smile cutting into his features again, and knelt down in front of you. He was close, too close, and you could smell something sour on his breath.

“I’ve just had a better idea,” he said, leaning into you. “What if I do to his precious lover what he did to me? Your face can be the last thing I let him see before I kill him.”

Your stomach turned and you forced yourself as far back in your chair as you could get. Oh fuck. “No, please, you have to listen!” Your voice was growing higher as you spoke. “I don’t know him. I’m his fucking cleaning service. You can call them and ask--just ask!”

The villain didn’t listen, digging around in the inner pocket of his jacket for something. “No skin off my nose if you are or aren’t. But I think we both know you aren’t.”

You could feel your heart climb into your throat as he pulled out a lighter and a small, metal can that smelled sharply of gasoline. Lighter fluid? You started struggling wildly in your bonds, feet straining against the floor to push your chair back from him.

He let out another laugh, uncapping the fluid. The acrid smell sharpened, burning in your nose. The radio let out another burst of static in the background, a high whine that set your teeth even more on edge.

“I’ll let you pick the side, brat,” the villain said, smiling.

“I pick neither,” you managed around the lump in your throat. Your eyes were locked on the can of lighter fluid, like you could will it away from you with the sheer force of your panic alone.

The villain scowled. “Be difficult then,” he said, and moved to pour it over you anyway. You felt the first splash of fluid on your cheek and closed your eyes. That acrid smell got stronger, and the villain let out an excited breath.

Then the wall blew out.

A wall of freezing air rushed over you and the can of fluid dropped from the villain’s grasp, spilling sloppily down your clothes, before clattering to the floor. The villain swore and whirled, grabbing a fistful of your hair and wrenching your head back. You peeked open an eye.

A huge slab of ice had blown open the side of the building, and the silhouette of a man was outlined against the evening sky. It was hard to make out his features in the dim light, but that mop of red and white hair was so distinctive, you would know it anywhere.

A shivery frisson of relief went down your spine at the sight of a familiar figure, but confusion mounted in the back of your brain.

What the hell was Shouto Todoroki doing here?

There was a flinty noise and then a small flame flickered in the corner of your eye. You stiffened--the lighter was still in the villain’s hand, and you were entirely covered in lighter fluid.

“So nice to see you again, Todoroki. Any last words to your little girlfriend?” the villain spat. His gaze was fixed unblinkingly on Todoroki.

You strained against your bonds and his tight grip on your hair. “I’m not his girlfriend! Todoroki, tell him.”

You could barely see his features but you thought you caught Todoroki’s eyes darting over you curiously, like he was trying to figure out who in the world you were and why anyone would mistake you for a love interest of his. Your eyes met briefly. Then the fingers on his right hand pressed forward just the slightest bit, and a huge cascade of ice like an avalanche was rushing you. You closed your eyes, ready to be impaled.

There was a grunt and the villain’s hand was ripped out of your hair, taking a fistful with it. A sudden, suffocating silence pressed down on you, and an icy burn stung at your lungs when you inhaled.

You blinked your eyes open, only to come face to face with a wall of ice mere inches from your nose. Cold pressed in on you everywhere, biting at you through your clothes--it seemed Todoroki had formed some kind of protective shell over you as he forced the villain off of you. You exhaled and sank back in the chair with shaky relief.

More crackling echoed from outside your cocoon, muffled through the thick slabs of ice, and a bright jet of orange light lit up the crystals around you. You tracked the sound and the movements nervously. There was a moment when a body slammed into the ice behind you, cracking it a little, and you tensed, but then whichever of them it was rolled off and was gone within moments.

Over the course of a few minutes, the sounds of their battle and the flickers of light started to fade off into the distance, and you wondered if Todoroki was trying to lead the villain away, or if the villain was leading him somewhere he had planned for. Your fingers found the bindings at your wrists again, and you scrabbled desperately at them with your nails.

If the villain came back for you, you needed to be disconnected from this chair and out of the ice prison ASAP.

You had just managed to work your chair backwards and get a good angle against the rough ice, starting to work up a friction between your bonds and the ice when muted footsteps approached and a hole began to melt in the side of the ice wall. Your eyes snapped to attention and you leaned as far away as you could get.

It was Todoroki who stepped through, however, lifting an arm to melt away more of the ice over you. He looked a little mussed from combat but otherwise unharmed, and in good shape to get you out of here. You breathed a heavy sigh of relief, muttering, “Oh, thank god.”

He fixed you with a weird look, leaning over you when he’d melted enough of the ice to get to your bonds. A hot hand at your wrists burned ropes off of you easily enough, Todoroki careful not to singe you with his flames.

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you pulled your arms back to yourself, shaking them out.

“Uh, thank you,” you said, watching nervously as those distinctive two-toned eyes flicked over you.

He helped pull you to your feet, and gestured you towards the hole he had blown in the side of the warehouse.

“This way--there’s an ambulance to check you over,” he said evenly. His voice was low and smooth, even deeper in person than you’d heard it on TV. His whole presence seemed a lot sharper, larger even, than was communicated via the media.

You followed his broad back out into the evening air, noting that you were on a somewhat crowded street, likely somewhere still within city limits. Several rows of similar warehouses lined the streets, and an ambulance and several police vehicles had pulled up onto the sidewalk closest to you.

An EMT ran over to you, helping you over to the ambulance and immediately setting to the task of checking you over. She asked you a series of questions including your name, what year it was, the prime minister’s name, and a slew of probing queries about your injuries. She concluded a concussion seemed unlikely, but produced an ice packet for your head where the villain had struck you, and cleaned your wrists where the rope had cut into them, smoothing on aloe and wrapping them up in gauzy bandages.

While she worked, you watched Todoroki as he spoke in quiet tones off to the side with a group of policemen. Eventually, however, the conversation seemed to die out, and he came padding back over to stand in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest. You tried not to focus on the swell of his biceps through the fabric of his hero costume.

“What you did was very stupid,” he said, his eyes narrowing.

That tore your attention away from his arms, and you paused, staring up at him in confusion. Did all civilians get a lecture like this fresh off of being kidnapped?

“Excuse me?” was all that escaped you.

That grey and blue gaze raked over you. “You’re lucky I was able to rescue you. You risked your own life and invaded my privacy while you were at it.”

A mixture of confusion, exhaustion, and anger welled up inside of you. You had just been fucking kidnapped and he was lecturing you like a toddler who’d gotten into a box of crayons while her parents’ backs were turned.

“You think I fucking wanted to be kidnapped?” you demanded, sliding off of the back of the ambulance to take an angry step towards him. “You think I wanted any of this to happen?”

He held his ground, hardly threatened by someone who barely brushed his chin and had needed his rescuing only minutes before. You gritted your teeth.

“You are not welcome in my apartment,” he said firmly, something like suppressed anger flickering in his own gaze.

Your temper flared even hotter than his flames. You clenched your fist, the words bubbling up before you could even think to stop them. “Great. Clean it yourself then, you huge fucking asshole, if you don’t want someone else there.”

His eyes widened the slightest bit, but you weren’t done.

“I get kidnapped because some crazy douche wanted to settle a score with you, and you dare yell at me for doing my job? Because what, it’s shameful for you to be accused of having a secret lover and now you have to do PR? Grow the fuck up. That’s your fucking job.”

You turned on your heel, setting a beeline for the police officers where they had turned to watch you, mouths gaping.

“Do I have to give a statement right now or can I come into the station in the morning?” you demanded of the nearest officer.

“We recommend you give your statement as soon as possible, but you can delay until tomorrow if you’re, uh, in emotional distress,” the officer said, staring at you.

“Oh I am,” you intoned loudly. “But not as much emotional distress, apparently, as someone who's been mildly inconvenienced by a media narrative. You'd better check on him, he's the real fucking victim here. And I’ll see you in the morning instead.”

You stalked off towards the street, hardly caring where you were headed or how you would get home from here. You would figure it out and find your way, and it was better than standing around and being berated by some asshole hero who thought himself so wildly inconvenienced by saving you.

“And Todoroki, you can go fuck yourself,” you threw over your shoulder as you disappeared into the dusky maze of city streets.

And he could.

You hoped that was the last you’d ever see or hear of Shouto Todoroki.

[mittensmorgul]

aaaahahahahahhhhhhahahh the worst thing Sam ever said to dean. 9.13, The Purge:

Dean: About what you said the other day.

Sam: I thought it didn’t bother you.

Dean: You know Sam, I saved your hide back there. I saved your hide at that church — in the hospital. I may not think things all the way through but when I do, it’s because it’s the right thing. I’d do it again.

Sam: And that is the problem. You think you’re my savior, my brother, the hero. You swoop in and even when you mess up you think what you’re doing is worth it because you’ve convinced yourself you’re doing more good than bad... but you’re not. Kevin’s dead, Crowley’s in the wind, we’re no closer to beating this angel thing, please tell me, what is the upside to me being alive?

Dean: Are you kidding me? You and me, fighting the good fight together.

Sam: Just once be honest with me, you didn’t save me for me. You did it for you.

Dean: What are you talking about?

Sam: I was ready to die, I was ready. I should have died. But you, you didn’t want to be alone. That’s what this boils down to, you can’t stand the thought of being alone. I’ll give you this much, you are certainly willing to do the sacrifice, as long as you’re not the one being hurt.

Dean: Alright, you want to be honest, if the situation was reversed, and I was dying, you’d do the same thing.

Sam: No Dean, I wouldn’t. Same circumstances, I wouldn’t. I’m heading to bed.

(bolding mine, because we’re gonna talk about those words...)

The problem in the Winchester Codependency is this. We’ve talked about it for years-- the fact that yes, they’re brothers, but that Dean also still can’t help but feel “parental” toward Sam, because that’s the role he was forced into as long as he can remember. And as many glimpses of this as Sam has had, and as many small (and sometimes large) moments of insight into Dean, he still either refuses to understand this, or blocks it out, or assumes it’s all handled until the next time this issue rears its ugly head again and it’s like Sam developed amnesia again about why Dean defaults to the Bossy Parent role.

I mean, this is not to discount Dean’s own amnesia over the fact that Sam does NOT have the same hangups about feeling “parental” toward Dean in return, because to Dean the role of Brother and Parent are so tangled up together he can’t always tell what’s what. 

And Kevin... he’s not dead because of Sam-- even though he enjoys putting the blame for it on himself. He’s dead because Gadreel felt BETRAYED by Dean, even though he himself had been betrayed for the better part of the entire history of time... so like... there’s much bigger issues here, but Sam reduces them all down to himself. I mean, Dean also blames himself for everything a lot of the time, but not when it’s in the attempt to save the people he cares about.

The whole “we’ll always try to save each other” that is a BIG part of Dean’s personal definition of what it means to be family on a very basic level... Sam just basically stomped on that and told him it was worthless. And the painful irony is that by 10.03, Sam gets this. He finally put on his grownup pants and did something far more horrific than Dean asking an angel he thought he could trust (based on Cas’s word about Ezekiel being a good soldier, and that angel not completely lying about his identity) to save Sam’s life, and then Sam effectively being held hostage by that angel-- which directly hurt Cas and Dean both, as well. So like... at least Dean is trying to keep the bigger picture in mind here.

And Dean has already punished himself for this in direct ways that Sam has also watched first-hand. He’s expressed how he feels he’s poison and went off and took the Mark of Cain, effectively sacrificing himself to spare Sam and Cas and everyone else from Abaddon. So that bit Sam says there in the second bolded segment? Is potentially the worst thing he’d ever said to Dean up to that point. Because Dean himself has sacrificed more than almost everyone else on this show combined-- his own identity, his own happiness, everything he’s ever wanted in life since he was four years old, his own soul in exchange for Sam’s, and most horrifically his own LIFE in a future where he FINALLY had a chance to be free and live unburdened by mechanism that caused their repeated need to make these awful sacrifices in the first place. They’d finally knocked the monkey wrench out of the cosmic gears, unseated Chuck, and then... for some reason Dean thinks one more final big sacrifice for Sam is what “was supposed to” happen? NO. No, no, fuck that sideways with a container ship.

Yes, Sam repents of all of this in s10 and goes WAY over the top on his revenge mission, because he thinks Dean is dead and that some rando demon was just using his body... at the beginning he doesn’t think Dean CAN be saved. 10.03 is the beginning of Sam’s redemption from this.

And this is why 15.20 is not only implausible to me, but outright offensive. They both struggled horrifically with these things and would eventually forgive and overcome them, only to fall right back into it just in time for the finale.

Yes, Sam’s issues with bodily autonomy and possession throughout the series are at play here, too. And that only makes things worse. Dean will only truly begin to understand that after 13.23, when he will-- without hesitation-- once again make the sacrifice himself to save the people he cares about.

I understand both of their perspectives here, but heck it’s super hard not to feel angry and hurt by Sam’s words. I mean, HOW MANY TIMES has Dean been perfectly willing to be the sacrifice for Sam’s sake, and the ONE TIME he made a choice for Sam-- bearing in mind that Gadreel was also playing ALL of them, and using Dean’s face to secure the Yes from Sam-- Sam can’t let it go. I mean, I’ve written about the “who’s to blame for this” argument and how it just goes right back to the start of creation and puts it all on Chuck for locking up Amara. In this circumstance specifically, though, this is at least PARTLY Dean’s personal guilt over “failing” that first trial way back in 8.14. Sam was never the one who was supposed to “sacrifice” himself to close up Hell. Dean even argued with him that they would find another Hellhound to kill, and Sam busted out the Power of Positive Thinking BS about wanting to SURVIVE the trials when Dean was looking at them as a death sentence. Because they always WERE a death sentence, and no amount of “golly I’d really like to live anyway though” was gonna change that. The entire POINT of what Dean did was trying to CORRECT what he felt was a pointless sacrifice of Sam on the altar of saving everyone else.

So yeah, I hate this bit here. :’D

Because as I hinted at in the previous paragraph there... THIS WAS ALWAYS CHUCK’S STORY. That one brother would have to be sacrificed so the other could live. Because that’s the story of him and Amara. Only one of them could rule over creation. Only Chuck could remain free to create the universe he wanted unhindered, and the story of his universe as told and retold through his own creations was his own self-justification for that original crime. And the final episode of Supernatural gave him exactly that, in the stupidest possible way. It was “we can’t have nice things or a happy life, only one’s death so the other can be free.” The irony was that they weren’t truly free. Dean was just ~dead~ and alone and never sought out what he never got to have in life. Sam abandoned everything he’d grown to know about himself to live a half-life without any real satisfaction, until he finally died, too. It’s just... depressing AF. And it all feels rooted in Chuck’s basic plot rather than truly winning for Free Will and humanity.

I typed on this so long that 9.14 ended, with Kevin’s admonition to them both that they stop behaving like that, since he’d ben watching them be petty from the veil for months. Dean was ready to talk to Sam, but Sam had already turned his back and walked away, completely convinced of his own righteousness in this matter. And at this point in the series I just kinda want to yell at him... >.>

[collecting-stories]

Marks - John B Routledge

Request: Hi would you be able to write something about John b (outer banks) were the reader and him have been secretly seeing each other and one day they are all one the boat and she's wearing one of his shirts over a bikini and the others see the marks???? Love your work btw and sorry if this makes no sense and it OK if you can do it and thank you 💛🌻🌼

A/N: So I hope this is what you wanted?? I like how it turned out.

Outer Banks Masterlist

///

No one knew where the unofficial rule of Pogue life in the Outer Banks had come from but you all agreed that it felt like it had been around forever. Was it something Kiara made up in seventh grade when boy/girl parties meant more pressure to kiss whoever the cutest person in the room was? Was it something someone else made up that was overheard and adopted? Had it been around for a long time? It was hard to say, all you did know was that the rule was the rule, no Pogue-on-Pogue macking, and the rule was sacred. It hadn’t been transcribed in stone by a burning bush but it might as well have been the way that everyone talked about it. Some people broke the rule but never your group.

You’d kissed tourons, a odd kook once at a party that you never spoke of again for fear of retribution, but never a Pogue. It was a stupid rule, honestly, but it’d helped you not make terrible decisions. Like when you and JJ got so high in ninth grade that you almost kissed him. But even in the haze the rule was the rule and you didn’t break it.  

“How am I supposed to get a boyfriend when the guys I’m allowed to like leave after two weeks?” You questioned, laying on the end of the HMS Pogue. It was this very conversation that had changed your opinion of the rule. Before that afternoon you followed like it was written law and you were afraid of burning in hell for breaking it.  

But as you turned your head to the side to look over at your friends, at John B steering the boat through the marsh, it suddenly occurred to you that your question wasn’t a vague observation but rather a specific wanting. You didn’t want any guy to be your boyfriend, you wanted John B. You must’ve looked at him a thousand times in your life, you’d known him through bad haircuts, the summer before high school when his face broke out, the year he only wore stupid graphic tee’s from five below, and ill attempted bucket hat phase. All the unpleasant, unattractive moments in life that were supposed to deter you from even thinking about him that way didn’t seem to matter when you gazed at him across the boat. Tanned, unruly hair getting a little close to too long, some ridiculous Hawaiian shirt that he had the inability to button correctly.  

“I’ll be your boyfriend.” Pope offered, handing you a beer.

You sat up to drink and gave him a skeptical look, “you going somewhere I don’t know about?”  

“No Pogue on Pogue macking,” Kiara piped up like she was the spokesperson for it.  

“Oh my god; I know!” You groaned and Pope laughed, “why do you think I’m in this dilemma?”  

“You could date a kook,” JJ teased.  

“Fuck you JJ.”  

“Just mack on some Pogue we don’t know,” John B suggested. You looked over at him and took a long gulp of your beer, if he only knew.  

“You know everyone,” Kiara pointed out.  

“See, Kie understands my dilemma.”  

“Actually, I kinda prefer not being tied down.” Kiara replied.

“Okay, archaic...I’m not trying to be someone’s property or something but it’d be kinda nice to have someone ya know? To not have to flirt with rando tourists all summer.” You complained. It was a legitimate problem.  

“Sure. I hear that.” Pope agreed.

When everyone else had dispersed for the night, Pope back to his house, Kie to the Wreck, JJ to sleep in the hammock outside the Chateau, you and John B sat on the couch watching a movie on your laptop. You had your head on his shoulder and he was slumped against the cushions, far too quiet for a movie about a mega shark attacking people. He hadn’t said much else after your discussion about dating had died down. John B talked the talk, he flirted easily with tourons at parties but you never knew him to really be with anyone. You couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever called someone his girlfriend but you also didn’t know him to be the type to have random hookups.  

“You’re so quiet.” You observed, “we haven’t even ragged on the stupid CGI.”

“The CGI is stupid.” John B said, tilting his head to look at you and smiling.  

“Loser.” You shook your head. You wanted to tell him, you had decided on the boat that you had to. If he wasn’t interested in you, if the idea of dating one of his best friends freaked him out that was fine, you could be friends and move on. But if you just thought about it, obsessed over it, you would make it awkward. It would never be normal between the two of you because all you would focus on would be the what-ifs.

John B shrugged.  

“Hey John B, can I ask you something?” You sat up, shifting away so that you could look at him.  

“You just did.”

“Okay dad,” you rolled your eyes at him when he smiled.

“What’s up?” He asked, turning to face you, movie forgotten. The mega shark could eat whoever he wanted, John was focused on you and that was better than a movie.  

You were never sure how these things worked. Did you say that you liked him and you wanted to be in a relationship with him? Did you tell him you wanted to kiss him? How did you say okay to him when he inevitability said he wasn’t interested? He probably liked someone else. Sure, you had never seen him with anyone but that didn’t mean he didn’t like someone else...maybe Kie, everyone liked her. And if he did you couldn’t be mad about that.  

“Hey, E.T., phone home.” John B teased, waving a hand in front of your face.

You laughed and grabbed his wrist, “sorry.” You moved his hand to your lap and held it there, taking a deep breath. You could do this. This was John B, best friend, dork, treasure hunter. You talked to him about everything, you could talk to him about this. “The thing is-” You leaned forward, getting a rush of adrenaline as you closed your eyes and pressed your lips against his.  

John B’s eyes went wide as he sat there, his brain working overtime to catch up with what was happening. His free hand gripped the back of the couch as he leaned more into the kiss. When you’d mentioned wanting to date someone, he never imagined that you could be thinking about him. You’d been friends for a long time but that didn’t erase the fact that you were attractive. He’d never do anything that you didn’t want but there were plenty of times when he stared a little too long or hugged you a little too long. He was sure JJ and Pope had too, it wasn’t anything unusual for a group so close to have crushes on each other but he couldn’t even wrap his mind around the two of you.  

As the kiss deepened you let go of his hand to hold onto his shoulders, shifting yourself to straddle his lap. John B wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against him completely as he laid back on the couch, the sudden motion making you yelp a little.  

“Oh my god, JB!” You laughed; foreheads pressed together as you laid there on top of him.  

“So uh, definitely broke a rule or two,” he joked. He watched as you sat up in his lap.  

-

That was two weeks ago and in that time you and John B had almost perfected your ability to sneak around. Though no amount of perfectly crafted excuses, late nights at the Chateau without your friends, or actively pretending you were interested in other people when you were at a party could have helped you avoid the most obvious clue that one of you might be fooling around behind the group’s back.  

You were on the HMS Pogue with the others, sitting cross-legged at the front with JJ smoking while Kiara and Pope swam. It would be dusk soon and the air was getting colder this far out. You would have just put your shorts and shirt back on but JJ had thrown you in the water earlier, fully dressed, and now you sat there, cold, with your wet clothes hanging over the side of the boat.  

“Just give me your t-shirt.” You begged. You’d been asking JJ for his shirt to keep you warm for the last ten minutes.

“No. Then I’ll be cold.”

“So much for chivalry.”

“I’m sorry,” Pope called, “is your complaint that JJ isn’t chivalrous?”  

“Yeah you’re right, my bad.” You stuck your tongue out at JJ and he smiled in return. John B was at the wheel, wearing your favorite of his numerous Hawaiian shirts. The one with the girls surfing. “Hey John B!” You called, leaning toward him and smiling.

“Yes?” John asked, smirking at you and raising an eyebrow in question.

“Can I have your shirt? JJ’s a douche and won’t give me his.”

“You’re such a baby.” JJ laughed.

“I guess I can spare it.” John replied, unbuttoning the only two buttons he’d done up and slipping the shirt off. You smiled, holding your hand out to him to accept the shirt.  

Once he handed it over he walked back to the wheel, JJ sliding his sunglasses down his nose dramatically and letting out a low whistle. “Hot damn John B, didn’t know you liked it so rough.”  

“What?” John whipped around, looking at JJ questioningly.  The other boy slipped his sunglasses into his necklace and signed toward John B.  

“You have, uh, scratches...on your back.” You supplied. JJ was still smirking.

“Wait what?” The commotion had caught Kiara and Pope’s attention, both swimming over to the boat and climbing in.  

John’s eyes shot instinctively over at you and you looked away as he reached back and felt the slightly raised welts on his back from the previous night. None of the other pogues had stuck around last night, leaving you and John B in the Chateau alone.  

JJ was watching your behavior and, when you turned away from him, noticed something off. “Hey Kie, hand me a water?”

“Seriously JJ?” She tossed the water at him as Pope followed up his “wait what” with twenty other questions. Who was it? When did you meet them? How long have you known them? Where they a pogue, a touron, worse? A kook?  

JJ, meanwhile, spilled some water on his fingers and reached over, rubbing your neck without warning, “what the fuck JJ!” You shouted, jumping to your feet and moving away from him.  

“Think I can answer your who Pope, unless that’s a coincidence.” He joked, pointing to the newly revealed hickey on your neck. You’d covered it with bronzer and foundation that morning but hours in the sun had sweat some of the makeup off and JJ had rubbed the rest.

“Oh my god!” Kiara grabbed your arm, turning you to look at the mark, “oh my god! For christ sake, we have a rule.”

“It’s a fucking stupid rule Kie and you know it.” John cut in immediately.

“Can’t argue with that.” JJ announced.

“Shut up Jay, you aren’t helping.”

“Guys...why didn’t you just tell us?” Pope asked.

“Cause I knew exactly how Kie would react.”  

“We have a rule for a reason! What happens when you break up and then shit is awkward because we have to choose who to be friends with?” She argued.

“We aren’t gonna break up.” You insisted.

“You don’t know that, all summer you’ve been ‘I just want a boyfriend to mack on, it doesn’t have to be serious’ and so what? Some tourist won’t do because two weeks is too short but you and John B are gonna hook up? Until when?”

“Whoa, don’t turn on me!” You snapped.  

“She’s got a point...not just you,” JJ quickly clarified. “But both of you...what happens when you get sick of whatever this is?”

“I’m not getting sick of anything and we’re not just hooking up for the summer Kie,” John B said, looking between his friends.  

“You say that-”

“I love her.” He cut in. Turning to look at you he continued, “I love you, not exactly how I imagined telling you but...I love you.”  

You bit your lip as you smiled, “I love you too.” You had known that first day on John B’s couch that there was no way the feelings you had for him could be contained to a random hookup. You weren't just dating for the summer to break up, this was something real. Something serious.  

“Good, now I’m turning this fucking boat around and all of you can go the fuck home.”  

“You’re kicking us off the boat cause Kie threw a tantrum.”

“I did not throw a tantrum JJ!” Kiara said, smacking his arm.

“You kinda did.”  

“I’m not kicking you off the boat cause you threw a tantrum-”

“I didn’t throw a tantrum!” She laughed this time as she cut John B off.  

“I’m dropping you off cause you definitely don’t wanna be around for the next couple of hours.” John B announced, glancing over at you and winking.

“Oh my god!” Pope groaned, “can you guys not talk about it.”

-

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[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Twenty | Ooo I Ooo I Ooo I Ooo I (Part 2 of 2 | His POV) [First] | [Previous] | [Next]

Song Referenced

• • •

did he give you an exact date?

Unfortunately, no.

At first, I had at least until the end of the year, but…

CPS wants this resolved quicker than he thought.

guessin' you need to finish tourin' the underground first then, right?

Yes.

Would it be possible the day after tomorrow?

Or just… sometime this weekend?

I can go by myself, but…

Asgore won't allow that unless I'm with someone else.

Says I shouldn't be walking so far and so long alone if I haven't recovered yet.

you don't need to go alone, either way.

be it my job or not, I still wanna help out.

so the day after tomorrow's fine with me, bud.

we can discuss those details better when we drive over to tori's school tomorrow.

Are you sure?

And…

Does that 'we' imply you'll be picking us up?

100%

but yeah, i'll drive you guys there.

and pick up paps on the way, too.

it's easier for all four of us.

Mhm.

don't believe me?

Oh, I believe you.

I just don't think that's the only reason why you're picking us up, when I already have the address.

so what's the other one?

Don't get cocky, Serif.

I'm not gonna type that out.

It's a godsend Frisk will be with us, too.

'Cause I sure don't trust being alone with you anymore.

inna bad way?

Nah.

niiice.

pick you guys up tomorrow, then?

Yes.

We'll see you tomorrow.

And thank you in advance.

∆ Sticker | Happy Cartoon Bunny™ waving goodbye ∆

"You've changed, Sans."

He ignores that comment to view (Y/N)'s last two messages again.

While he doesn't know why that particular sticker bothers his mind so much, a few scrolls up to revise his chat history with the human reveal this is the first time they've shown any sort of informality or spontaneity in their typing. (Y/N) came off cold in their texts, though -- based on how they acted outside of a chat app -- that wasn't their intention, but more of an automatic way for them to talk with someone they didn't exactly deem trustworthy enough yet. He grins at that thought and feels his face warm up, something he confirms when touching his cheekbone, cold palm contrasting with that heat.

"You're wasting your time with that human," Drunk Bun says, snapping him out of his daydreaming.

They've sat themselves on the bar stool next to him and slam what looks like their tenth can of cheap, off-brand beer against the counter, crunching it down into more than half its size. He doesn't know how long they've stood there or why he's lost this much awareness of his surroundings. The bar's practically empty and calm now compared to before, though there's loud music blaring from the jukebox, playing an already overplayed song on repeat. There's no excuse for his distracted mind other than having lost himself while texting with the human, so he admits that fault with partial sourness, against accepting he's that smitten with them.

"You're changing for the worse," his company adds, narrowing their eyes at him. "Every time we come here to catch up, you mention something stupid about that (L/N) person, or just text the whole evening away with them. I... I've never seen you worry so much about someone so inconsequential." They scoff and cross their arms tight. "I may understand you caring after Frisk as a way to repay them for rescuing us, but (L/N) is completely useless. They've done absolutely nothing remarkable beyond creating a huge scene at that bus you were both on."

"Being harassed by a rando and faintin' after's them causin' a scene?" Sans asks, quirking an eye socket.

"Oh, screw off, bone boy -- You know what I mean. They've brought you nothing but trouble and needless responsibilities!" The bunny grits their teeth and slams their hand over the table, dragging eyes to their side. "I'm betting you can't go a day without texting them or without you doing something for them."

"You need to-"

Beep-beep.

The phone is snatched from his hands just as quick as that noise rings.

"Give that back."

"No." They keep the phone right above him, taking advantage of his shorter height. "Your fault for not putting a lock on it."

Drunk Bun scoots away and holds the phone tight as they fumble with it. Then, they stop to look at what he assumes is another text message from the human. A grimace shows on their face and they grasp the device tight, enough to make the screen complain and warn them over the pressure they're exerting against it. "Now this is beyond pathetic, Sans," they comment, letting out a loud, burst laugh. "Is this seriously the one you're sacrificing your entire personality for?" They give him his phone back, though not before hesitating when it's time to let go. "That human is-"

"Gimme a sec."

His attention falls on the picture displayed on screen, revealing (Y/N) and Frisk posing in it. The adult wears a suit and tie while the child has Toriel's school uniform on. The former's pose appears forced and awkward while the latter seems to be the reason the picture was taken with how excited they seem about their outfit.

Frisk wanted me to show you this.

It's what we'll be wearing for tomorrow!

There's a three-minute interval between that and the next message.

I know classes still haven't started there, but… They wanted to wear it, so I joined them by trying on something special for, well…

That job offer you told me about.

I don't know if I'll accept or not yet, but…

Thank you for the opportunity, and for believing in me.

∆ Sticker | Happy Cartoon Bunny™ giving a thumbs-up ∆

"You're grossing me out, honestly. What kind of look is that?"

It takes him a while to react, focus glued on (Y/N)'s messages.

"What look?"

"That lovesick look on your face." Tears form on their eyes -- almost abruptly, hadn't their voice shaken right before that. "I- I've been flirting with you for years, and yet you've never once looked at me like that before." They stand up straight, stare down at him, and rest their hands on the table, blinking their tears away throughout. "I've known you for so damn long, and yet you fall for the first human you see up here? I-"

"So that's what this's about," he says, chuckling. "You're-"

"Don't you dare brush everything off as me having a crush on you, Sans." They hiss. "You're not the same as before, and that's as clear as day. You worry a lot more now, and… And you actually seem to care more about other stuff beyond your job and sleeping on it. Y- You-"

"Aren't those good things?"

"Maybe, but your entire personality changing isn't. I liked you better when you were less worked up with stuff that's none of your business." They stop to grab his phone again; a grin breaks the sorrow on their face. "But hey, y- you're just doing your job, aren't you? You should set things straight with that human and remind them you're only with them because Asgore told you to in that agreement letter you gave them."

"Won't work if I flirted with 'em first. Pretty sure they'll see right through my lies."

"Y- You flirted with them first?!"

"Yeah."

He dodges a punch aimed right at his face.

"Wait-"

They throw a second punch -- this one turning out to be a spoof -- and laugh at the sight of him falling for it; they then toss the phone high over his head after he's finished dodging that fake attack, and aim yet another punch right after.

He salvages the device, though at the cost of taking the blow right on his left eye socket.

"How can you admit that so easily? You're awful!"

"'Cause you're only a close friend. I don't owe you an explanation about who I'm dating, and even less if you're gonna be actin' this way."

Drunk Bun springs at him, only to be held back by the rest of the regulars sitting near the scene, sufficiently fast enough for them not to wrangle Sans in anything major. They struggle and thrash at everyone around, trying to break free, but failing each time. It takes a fully-armored guard dog and a buff bear for them to be fought back into their rightful place, and yet another strong monster for them to let go of a wine bottle they insist on downing when seated.

Grillby intervenes as well by warning them to calm down, unless they want to be kicked out. Meanwhile, Sans turns on the camera and looks at his reflection through it, revealing a faint soreness already forming around his eye socket -- right where his companion had punched at. Being primarily made out of bones brought advantages, but having magical properties often led to him bruising easily.

Another regular approaches him and offers him a first aid kit, one he brings back to his seat to heal himself there.

While he takes out an antibiotic and some cotton pads with one hand, he uses the other to busy himself with (L/N)'s messages, against leaving them on read for so long.

no probs.

here at your service.

frisk looks great, btw.

and you? hot. 😘🔥

awkwardly hot.

hotwkward.

Frisk is reading the replies, you know?

damn.

i mean…

darn.

don't tell 'em i said that.

∆ Audio | 0:46 ∆

He clicks on it to hear Frisk giggling along with (Y/N) commenting they won't. It later continues with them asking if he's alright, specifying what they mean by highlighting a picture, this one sent by him. Blurriness makes up most of it when he clicks on it and zooms in, yet he can identify what looks like his companion from earlier, who'd apparently snapped and sent the human a photo by accident.

that's a friend o' mine.

they're, uh, kinda tipsy, so they got inna fight with me.

Really?

Are you okay?

yeah, just a lil' sore where they punched at.

What?!

i'm fine, puddin'.

dw about it.

Where's that bar at?

I'm near the mall, so I can drop by if you need anything.

aren't you still shoppin'?

take it easy.

I'm almost done.

Just trying out one more outfit.

can I see?

👀

Sure.

∆ Attachment | 2 images ∆

To his surprise, they're not only posing much more freely now, but they've also made the effort to strike another pose from a different angle. The human's outfit is composed of a dark green, semi-formal (suit/dress), fit for a night out. They've gone as far as to edit a wink emoji and some hearts at the corner of one -- the most flirty of the two.

So...

What do you think?

*jaw drops to floor, irises pop out of sockets accompanied by trumpets, soul beats out of rib cage, awooga awooga sound effect, pulls chain on train whistle that has appeared next to head as steam blows out, slams fists on table, rattling any plates, bowls or silverware, whistles loudly, fireworks shoot from top of head, pants loudly as tongue hangs out of teeth, wipes comically large bead of sweat from forehead, clears throat, straightens jacket, combs skull* ahem, you look real lovely.

*bwushes* Thank uwu kindwy, handswome. I'm vewy fwattewed.

...frisk ain't there anymore, right?

If they wewe, duwu uwu twhink I'd be twyping wike thiws?

faiw poiwnt.

Anyway…

I noticed the changes you made in that copy-paste, and…

You didn't edit the tongue part out.

So…

What that tongue do, baby?

😳

…lick…

...ice cream.

🔥🔥🔥

Ah, that's hot.

Or should I say cold?

And speaking of cold…

I'm gonna get you an ice pack or something.

You should take care of where it's sore, if you don't want it to bruise more.

whatta way to change the subject away from our moment, puddin'.

but uh, thanks in advance.

Anytime, teddy bear.

uwu

owo

• • •

"Am I really changin', Grillbs?" Sans asks, emptying his beer in three long gulps. "Be honest with me."

The one questioned takes the empty can from his hands and shakes his head in what looks more like disapproval rather than him answering that question. He first warns the skeleton about getting drunk, and reminds him to stay sober if he wants an answer as well as prevent himself from drunk-texting the source of his lovelorn self. When receiving a promise from him in response, he later answers with a 'no' and that he's still the same whenever he came to visit the bar.

"So I'm only different when I'm talkin' about 'em?"

Grillby nods.

"Inna bad way?"

He shakes his head.

"Then…"

Sans is stopped with a hand over his and faced with a stern look, despite the owner of it having no eyes or mouth.

"If they make you happy, then it's alright for you to show it," a regular states, intervening in the conversation. "You're not a lifeless machine. And nobody's one-dimensional either, so you shouldn't force yourself to act the same, strict way all the time. If you want to be all mushy with that human, then so be it. Aren't you the one who always says stuff like 'nothing really matters; in the end, we'll all die'? What's stopping you now of all times? Where's that hardcore nihilist I've known since years ago?

Sans rubs the back of his neck and huffs.

Clearly, neither the regular nor Grillby understood what he truly meant to say with his questions. He didn't mind his relationship with the human, but he also didn't want his old self to be replaced by someone he wasn't, as a result. There were things he didn't want to change about his old self -- things he feared would fade away now that he seemed to be getting into something as complex as a romantic relationship. There were parts of him he needed to keep in case the world were to start over again -- in case something went wrong. He couldn't allow himself to grow soft.

A pat on his shoulder lets him know he's lost himself in those thoughts.

"It's alright to fear change, but don't let that hold you back. If you like that human and they do, too -- Then what's there keeping you from going for it?"

It's not that easy.

Still, he keeps that thought quiet and replies with, "Thanks, but I'll probably have to give that more ti-"

The door of the bar opens to reveal someone new to it, but not so much unknown to Sans, who already finds himself distracted by them. (Y/N) stands in front of the entrance, looking this way and that. Frisk holds on to their hand, while a reusable shopping bag's hung over their parent's arm; a pharmacy's logo and name can be seen stamped on it. The eldest human approaches the area with caution, until their child assures them -- once, twice, and then thrice -- they've been to this place before and that it serves other purposes beyond that of providing alcohol and provoking fights. When they look forward, he meets their eyes and tries to glance away quickly, only to be called out by them soon after. They don't take long to smile wide and bright, wave, and -- finally -- approach his side after he waves back at them.

Rather than giving him whatever's in the bag, they instead let go of Frisk's hand, ask them if they want anything to eat, and give them some money when they sign the word 'fries'. Then, they sit on the stool next to his and settle the bag on their lap. "Come closer, and close your eye sockets," they say, still smiling. "It's your left one, right? It looks really sore already."

He nods and tries to ignore the warmth in his soul when they place a hand over his.

In his favour, they let go of him not long after to disinfect their hands and slip some gloves on when these dry out.

"I-"

"Shh."

(Y/N) holds his chin with their hand and grazes their fingers against his injury, their touch slow and careful as they apply some antibiotic over and around it. They then slide an eye patch on him and assumedly check around for any more bruises, based on the feeling of their hands grazing against his torso, arms, and neck. "The ice pack's in the bag -- Remember to throw it in the freezer when you get home." They touch his chest again, even more gentle this time. "So..." He notices some hesitance when they pull their hand back. "You're not hurt anywhere else?"

He shakes his head, words caught in his throat.

"Alright, but don't look yet."

Doing as told, Sans waits for whatever comes next. He stays still and stiff, until he feels their lips brush close to his eye socket, where they lay a soft, ticklish kiss at. They do the same with his other one and finish it off by kissing his nose cavity.

"Now you can."

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

• • •

...

......

🌋🔥💥 ANNOYING NOTICE TIME 💥🔥🌋

So, here's a summary of all the events happening this month, which will affect Fairytale Complex's update schedule in various ways:

1. I will be rewriting all my other fics that aren't FaiCom, since I'm pretty darn happy and proud of the new writing style I've developed with this fanfic, and so I want to implement it into my older stories (with the exception of the Tom Nook x Reader one -- I'm rewriting that one despite being recent because it started off as a wild, 3 am energy project after finishing with finals, but then I actually had way more fun than I originally anticipated, so I'll be turning it into a long fic just like this one, lol). This means FaiCom will be taking a short, 1 to 2 week break after Arc 2 (Chapter 25) ends, to dedicate some time to all 4 of these stories.

2. I'm taking extracurricular classes/hobby workshops this summer, so I need to tweak my schedule again. This means FaiCom will be changing its schedule back to the old one, composed of weekly updates on Mondays, Wednesdays, and/or Fridays.

3. As mentioned previously, Pride Month is here, so I'll be making some one-shots and drabbles related to it, meaning updates might be slightly less frequent this month. BUT, a good majority of them are FaiCom related ones (and they will be posted on a different book to avoid conflicting with regular updates, too). More on that later on!

• • •

Tag List (Comment or message me if you want to be added to [or removed from] it!)

@the-simp-express

@nektotersh

@disastrous-l0vebug

@therealchickenjoe

@mintyflakes025

@pandaquick

@timelock97

@candle-creeps

@paperb9gs

@merak0

[broadstbroskis]

four times you wore matthew tkachuk’s name on accident + one time on purpose | matthew tkachuk

the first

It’s a Friday night and you’re at Matty Tkachuk’s apartment solely at the request of your best friend, Sasha, who’s a little more than friends with Noah Hanifin (and refusing to believe that she’s actually more than a little more than friends but that’s neither here nor there). The party’s raging and you’re killing some bro’s on the pong table with some pretty Swedish boy who you’re almost certain plays on the Flames with Noah. And then, suddenly, there’s a ruckus behind you, like more than the general party-ruckus, and you’re covered in beer.

And when you say soaked, you mean like, absolutely drenched.

The dudes who are the entire reason you’re now the winner of the impromptu wet t-shirt contest can’t even make it through the apology they start before their eyes go to your chest and they actually stop speaking, so you very quickly ditch the pretty Swede in favor of looking for Sasha.

Unsurprisingly, she’s making out with Noah in the corner and neither of them look amused when you interrupt. “Well sorry.” You snap, glaring at yet another guy who stops to stare at you.

“Get moving, buddy!” Noah waves him away.

“Now do you see why I want to leave?” You look at them flatly. 

Sasha giggles. “Just go topless for the rest of the night!”

You give her a look “You’ve seen me topless before. That’s certainly not going to help the staring.”

Sasha is still giggling as a group of guys in the corner start to point and Noah gives his best glare (which is frankly, like 0% terrifying, but the gesture is much appreciated). “Come on,” He pulls the two of you away.

“Oh yeah,” You snark at him, as he leads you down the hall. “This is helping my case. Heading down the hall with the two of you in my wet t-shirt. This is just the thing I need!”

“Well?” Noah grins not even five minutes later, from where he’s lounging on Matty’s bed, watching as you attempt to tuck the Tkachuk Flames shirt into your short, bodycon skirt. The endeavor is useless, which from her laughter, Sasha figured out ages ago, and has been waiting for you to do the same.

“There’s nothing smaller?” You ask desperately. The shirt is genuinely huge. It fits you like a dress.

“I mean, Chucky’s just a tad bigger than you so…” Noah trails off, fighting his own laughter.

“That is a lewk!” Sasha is still giggling from the ground as she adds, “I’m sure we could look around and find something smaller that’s been left behind.”

That thought brings an immediate look of disgust to your face. At least Matty’s shirt is clean. “Fuck no, I don’t want anything that belongs to any girl that he might have brought back here!”

They’re both laughing, as you awkwardly tuck one edge of the t-shirt into your skirt and let the rest of it fall. “Alright.” You say. “Noah, let me pound your beer and I might not hate myself enough to be able to go back out there.”

Noah’s beer is not quite enough, but it’s enough to get you back out to the party, where you can all three get fresh drinks to go along with the shots you insist on (needed if you’ll be wearing this shirt for the rest of the evening).

And then, they quickly ditch you for their corner again, so you make your way back to the pong game, only to find out the you and the pretty Swede have been chased off the table.

The Swede is in the kitchen, holding court with a few other teammates, and you start to make your way over to them, hoping to convince him to take back your rightful spot at the table (or if not, just to join their circle), when the host of the party steps up to you.

“Babe!” Matt grins, and you stop to wait for what’s to come, because you’ve seen a lot of him recently since Noah and Sasha have been spending more and more time together, so you’re sure he’s not finished. “Never would have thought I’d be happy to see you change out of that wet t-shirt, but I guess that’s when happens when you look so hot in my clothes!”

“Babe!” You mimic, grinning, ready to dish it back. “Never would have thought I’d actually consider changing into the clothes that last week’s rando left behind, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re a dick!”

Matty just laughs, accepting the chirp as you move past him to the kitchen, and that’s that. The shirt comes home with you that night, gets shoved into the back of your closet, and forgotten about entirely.

the second

“Thank god you’re here!” The woman grabbing your arm on the way out of the bathroom at Saddledome looks extremely familiar, but you couldn’t put a name to her face if your life depended on it. 

“Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong person.” You try to keep your voice as polite as possible as you attempt to shake her off.

She shakes her head. “Sasha said she tracked you here on your phone.”

That traitor. And also, still, who the fuck is this lady? “Umm.”

“Britt and Morgan are both stuck at home with sick kids, and Jess was supposed to be able to fly in in time for the game tonight but her flight got delayed so she’s stuck in Ottawa or something, so we are super shorthanded and Sasha said you were here with some friends tonight and wouldn’t mind filling in.”

Say what now? “Sorry, filling in for what?”

“Toy collection!” She’s actively leading you away from your other friends and from your seat towards an employee only area. “Come on; let’s get you a jersey and get you set up!”

And well, you’re not so heartless that you’re not going to help them collect toys for kids for the holidays! Even when she shoves a Tkachuk jersey at you, practically yanks it over your head, and then fluffs your hair before leading you out to the first floor concourse and over to a toy collection station with Johnny Gaudreau’s girlfriend, you paste a smile on your face, vowing to get back at Sasha for this later.

It isn’t long before the smile is real, laughing along with Ali as the two of you collect toys and donations. You’re actually having such a good time you don’t even notice that lady taking your picture until the next morning, when you’re scrolling through Instagram and it pops up on your feed via the Flames official account, on a post thanking their fans for making the toy drive such a success.

And right below it, a comment from Matt: 👀👀

the third

It’s too fucking light out, there’s a very loud banging, and your head will not stop pounding.

And somehow, none of these things are going away? Like they’re actually all getting worse and that’s when you realize your hangover isn’t going to go away on its own. So with one last groan into the pillow, you open your eyes, hoping to take care of all of these things.

And that’s when you realize this isn’t your bed. Or your room. And you aren’t wearing any clothes?

What the fuck happened last night?

Once that moment of immediate panic fades, you realize that even though this isn’t your room, it is a familiar one. It’s not the first time you’ve spent the night in Matty’s guest room after a party, but it is the first time you’ve woken up in it without clothes.

Further inspection of the room leads to open blinds and no clothing, which is not entirely helpful in solving the problems of your nakedness or the knocking at the door...which you can only assume means Matt has left for practice or something because god, if he was somehow managing to sleep through this, you were going to kill him.

The knocking at the door will not fucking stop and so you angrily stand, searching for some clothing item in the room to cover yourself up with to go take care of it. You’re just contemplating wrapping yourself in the blanket before you stumble upon an old Knights t-shirt. It’s still huge on you, but it’s clean and probably better than going out to answer the door wrapped in just a blanket.

No, definitely better than going out in just a blanket.

The shirt is soft and worn as you pull it over your head, like a favorite old t-shirt should be, and you really contemplate stealing it as you bitterly make your way to the door, throwing it open with a scowl on your face. “What?”

“Uh.” There’s a delivery man outside the door, holding a package. “Sign for delivery?”

Is he fucking serious? This is the ruckus? If looks could kill, he’d be a puddle on the floor, but you sign for the package and turn back into the apartment.

And apparently, Matt is home, and furthermore, alive, since when you do turn, he’s standing in the living room. For once, he’s not even running his fucking mouth, standing there with his jaw slightly dropped as he stares at you.

“Here!” You throw the package to him as you start to walk closer.

Matt doesn’t even react and the box falls to the ground in front of him. “Where’d you find that shirt?”

Your fingers drop to the hem of the tee, starting to recognize the look in his eyes for what it is. “Your guest room.”

He swallows. Visibly. Audibly. “Why’d you put that on?”

You grin, beginning to lift the hem up. “Why don’t you come find out?”

the fourth

Stuck in an endless loop of last times, it’s becoming less and less shocking to find yourself in Matt’s bed at various hours of the day. Sneaking out of his place in the morning. Popping over in the afternoon between classes. Sending your uber at the end of the night to his place instead of your own.

So it’s not really alarming anymore to find yourself waking up on a Sunday morning in Matt’s bed, to roll over and see only the ends of his curly hair poking out from under the covers or maybe a bare chest from where he’s pushed off all the blankets, consistently a later riser than you unless he absolutely has to be up.

Someone might think it’s alarming from the way you jump out of bed this particular Sunday, but that actually has more to with the time on the clock than the man’s bed you're in.

There’s no way you’ll make it back to your apartment to change and to brunch with your parents in time. Panic mode induced.

But the ruckus of trying to gather your shit and get dressed at the same time does wake Matt up (you suppose, in hindsight, that attempting to yank jeans up with one hand and buckle your bra with the other was not your best idea, but only because you hit your hip into the side of the dresser) and you fondly watch him rub his eyes sleepily before remembering that you need to go and resume working on fixing your jeans and bra.

“Where are you going?” Matt still sounds tired, but he’s sitting up, watching you rush around the room.

“Brunch with my parents have you seen my shirt?” The whole thing’s said as one sentence, one word maybe. Who’s got time to breathe right now?

“I just woke up.” He frowns. “Come back to bed.”

“I can’t!” It was white, you were pretty sure. Or maybe black? 

“This is not how I planned to send my Sunday.” Matt frowns.

Success, there’s something black in the corner. You go to grab it as you address that comment. “You should know by now that you win some, you lose some.”

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to use sports cliches in bed, then you’re not allowed to use them out of it!”

“Matthew!” You cry, turning toward him, shirt in hand.

“That seems like a very reasonable compromise to me!”

You are ten thoughts ahead of sports cliches by now and hold last night’s sweater up for him to see. Or, what used to be your sweater. There’s a rip down the center; it was a v-neck to begin with and was now only being held together by threads. “This isn’t!”

He hesitates, but doesn’t look sorry at all. “It was a thin sweater?”

You level him with a look. “Let me tell that to my dad today at brunch.”

“You know what, I’ll just give you something.” Matt stands, and walks toward his closet. A second later, there’s a shirt flying at you and once again, you find yourself pulling a huge Flames t-shirt over your head, this time with Matt’s number on the top left and both sleeves, and trying to make it work as an outfit. 

Matt’s got a huge grin on his face as you continue to just tug at the shirt, but finally you just give him a look. “Nothing else?”

“A dress shirt?” He offers, still grinning, unable to take his eyes off of you.

You actually contemplate it for a second-if you would be able to make it work as a dress, certain that he’s got a belt you could also snag to cinch the waist- before deciding against it. “I really have to go.”

Matt loops his arms around your waist, pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck. “Do you?”

It is...so easy to tilt your head to the side and just let Matt work, his hand travelling up his shirt. You can feel him smirk against your neck and you can’t even be mad about how smug he is about winning because it feels so good.

And then your phone buzzes and the moment is broken. 

The clock says it’s already past time for you to meet your parents and when you look at the text, it’s from your mom, letting you know they have a table. You let her know you’re on your way, but running late, and then slip the phone in your pocket.

“Fine.” Matt says, kissing you softly; a real, proper one, on the lips that sort of takes your breath away. “I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks.” You laugh, a little surprised about the kiss, which just...wasn’t something you guys did outside of bed.

And with one last brush down your arms, a tiny little pause over his number on your shoulders, he steps away, letting you go. But it’s just enough that you think you know what’s going on.

plus one

The long road trip out east gives you enough time to put your plan in action.

Unfortunately, you’re such a terrible liar, that you’re sure Matt knows something is up when he returns.

He sounds definitely hurt when you tell him that you can’t come over the night he comes home, but you’re sure that he’ll get over it pretty quickly when he sees what you’ve got planned for tomorrow’s game.

Your plan formed quickly, coming together in your mind easily. Meeting up with Sasha for lunch one day, you’d told her exactly what you wanted to do, requesting her help in getting you what you need.

She’d laughed hysterically, paused for a moment, and then laughed again. “I feel like I should be saying I told you so here. Somehow, someway, this feels like the moment for that.”

“People who lived in glass houses for over a year shouldn’t throw stones like that.”

That sobers her up, but only enough to stop laughing uncontrollably. She’s still giggling when she speaks. “Fair enough.”

“So can you get it for me?”

“What, he won’t give it to you?” She asks.

“I’m trying to do a thing here.” You tell her.

“Ah.” She says. “Alright, let me see what I can do.”

And so the day after their two week road trip, you found yourself standing in the hallway outside the locker room with Sasha and Ali, waiting for Matt to come out, the Tkachuk jersey feeling heavier than any other time you’ve worn his name before, and knowing that it has everything to do with the gesture you’re hoping it to be.

It seems like the entire organization comes out of the locker room before Matt does, so you endure knowing grins from both Johnny and Noah, as well as multiple other teammates you’re starting to recognize more and more, before Matt finally steps out.

He’s texting as he walks toward you, looking fine as hell in his suit and a little soft from his shower. You can feel the smile grow on your face as your phone buzzes in your back pocket, but you don’t have to pull it out to know who the text is from.

“Hey.”

Matt stops walking and looks up, shock clear in his face. His eyes flutter to his phone quickly and then back to you, like he’s wondering how you got there so quickly, but it only takes a minute before his eyes find the “A” on the corner of your jersey and the “19” on the sleeves. “Hi.”

You’re a little surprised he doesn’t have more to say than that, considering he never stops talking, but he seems content to let his eyes wander over his jersey on you. “Sorry I couldn’t come over last night.” You say, filling the quiet between you and tugging on the hem of the jersey to illustrate your point. “But I really did have some errands to run.”

Matt starts to grin. “You could have come over and saved yourself a few bucks.”

“You think I paid for this garbage?” You scoff and he’s crossing the hall to you in three steps to pull you into his arms.

“I hope you didn’t.” He says, holding you close to him and it takes everything in you not to just press up onto your tippy toes and kiss him, but you shake your head to clear it so you can finish your bit, making a mental note to thank Sasha for coming in clutch and managing to get the jersey for you without Matt knowing. “Would sure be a waste for my girlfriend to spend money on something I’d just give her anyway.”

“Awfully presumptuous.” 

“So tell me I’m wrong.” He grins cockily.

“You know what a shitty liar I am.” You start to return the smile but Matt’s kissing the grin off your face the second you finish speaking.

[terreisa]

Love Down the Line

The last thing Indie musician Emma Swan needs is a gigantic wrench thrown in the workings of her biggest tour to date weeks before its launch.  When her backing guitarist that caused the problem says she has the perfect solution Emma is skeptical but left with little choice but to accept.  Unfortunately she isn't really prepared for said solution to be former Rock Star and leading man of Emma's teenage fantasies, Killian Jones.  With no other options and a month of performing across the country ahead of her Emma just hopes she doesn't come to regret letting Killian onto her stage and into her life.

AO3

~*CS*~

Storybrooke, Maine- April 8th

The buzzing phone on the table in front of Emma Swan was a distraction she didn’t need.  There were a million and one things that needed to be done and only one month to do them before her tour started.  She swiped to answer it without looking, too caught up in what she was doing to bother.

“Yeah?” She asked impatiently, absently brushing the tendrils of her long blonde hair out of her face.

“I have good news and I have shit news.”

Emma sighed, albeit quietly.  It was Ruby, one of her closest friends and the rhythm guitarist for her backing band who also had a flair for the dramatic.  She only hoped that whatever it was Ruby was calling about wouldn’t turn into a two hour conversation over something they could easily discuss when she didn’t have time sensitive decisions to make.  Preferably in a month when they were finally on the tour bus and had nothing but time to kill between cities.

“If it’s about going on that second date with Dorothy that I already talked you into once can it wait?  I’m trying to finalize this set list so I can send it to Regina so she can send it to the lighting guys and the sound guys and we can stop fucking around at rehearsals and get things going almost smoothly.”

“Um, yeah… I mean, it’s not entirely about my date with Dorothy,” Ruby said with what sounded like trepidation.

Suspicion and dread immediately filled Emma’s veins.  Ruby was anything but hesitant when it came to sharing information.  She’d once announced at a club they were playing that she was on her period and would only accept phone numbers that were written on the outside wrapper of a chocolate bar.  By the time they made it back to their motel she had a mound of candy that would have made Augustus Gloop jealous.

“What’s the good news?”

“Nah, you’ll want the shitty news first,” Ruby hummed with a grin in her voice, her confidence restored.

She groaned, “When have I ever wanted the shitty news first?”

“Never, but this time the good news won’t make sense without it-” Ruby took in a deep breath, loud enough for Emma to hear over the connection and it set her back on edge. “Okay, so I was on that second date with Dorothy and it was going great.  Like, really great.  She’s amazing and funny and surprising.  We went to a paintball place.  Paintball, me!”

“Ruby-”

“And it was actually fun.  You know I’m more of a heels and cocktails kinda gal but I was getting into it-”

“Ruby-”

“Something about the adrenaline maybe or possibly the weird power trip of having a fake weapon to stalk your prey.  Though that makes me sound like I’m about to go play the most dangerous game or something-”

“RUBY!  The shitty news!”

“Oh, right,” Ruby had the decency to sound abashed but it did nothing to alleviate the pounding that had started in Emma’s head. “So paintball,  fun and exciting and I may have broken my arm.”

Emma suddenly felt faint, “What?”

“In two places,” Ruby continued, sounding almost proud of herself. “Plus there’s some stitches and a bunch of Bandaids involved but you probably don’t care about those.”

“How long?” She winced at her harsh question, knowing she sounded uncaring.  She backtracked, “No, fuck, wait, are you okay?  That should have been my first question.”

Ruby laughed, “Don’t worry, after all these years I know where your priorities lie.  I’m fine, they’ve got me on the good stuff here.”

“Wait, are you still at the hospital?” Emma stood up, ready to jump into whatever action was needed.

“Yup, they’ve still got to set the bones and wrap it up like the world’s worst present but like I said: the good stuff.”

“Alright, I’m on my way,” Emma dashed to her room and frantically tried to find a matching pair of shoes in the piles of crap strewn across the floor. “Do you need anything?  A change of clothes?  Are they keeping you there overnight?  Want me to stop by Granny’s?  Should I call Granny?”

“Whoa, Emma, slow down,” Ruby said, laughing again. “Dorothy called Granny when we were on our way to the hospital.  She’s already here and glaring at anyone in a white coat that walks by my little curtained area.  It should only be an hour or so then it’s home to rest.  You can come over with pizza and I’ll bore you to death then with all the little details of my date.”

“Okay,” she breathed, dropping down onto her bed with a tennis shoe in one hand.  “Pizza.  I can do that.”

“Good.  It’s six weeks by the way,” Ruby said offhandedly.

“Six weeks,” she repeated, confused by the non-sequitur.

“Recovery time.  At least six weeks.”

The shoe dropped out of her hand, “Six weeks.”

“And then a few weeks of physical therapy,” Ruby continued. “So, more like two months give or take.”

“Ruby,” she said weakly. “The tour starts in a month.  There’s no time to audition a replacement and have them learn the songs and what if they don’t get along with us or, fuck, what if they have a massive ego or-”

“Emma, stop.” Ruby said calmly. “This is where the good news comes in.”

“Good news?  How can there be good news?”

“I told you there would be,” Ruby tsked, “Here it is.  I already have a replacement ready!  He knows most of the songs you’ve been picking, has a shit ton of experience on the road and playing the type of venues we’ve got booked, and best of all he’s available to start as soon as you tell me yes.”

Ruby’s words had started to slow but her excitement was still palpable.  Emma on the other hand felt nothing but dread settling in her stomach.  Ever since she’d started doing the music thing seriously Ruby had been a part of the band playing behind her.  The seedy bars with tiny stages, the slightly better clubs with slightly worse sound systems, the places that could actually be called venues that held more than a hundred people and then bigger and bigger until she was finally selling out places that easily sat four or five thousand people.  She’d been there for everything, had seen everything, knew everything and her not being able to be there for any part of it was starting to cause Emma’s vision to go slightly grey at the edges.

“I need to call Regina,” she gasped, trying to draw in a deep breath, “We can cancel the first few weeks or reschedule them.”

“Emma-”

“I’ll say I have bronchitis or those polyp things on my vocal chords.  Or I can do the shows acoustic-”

“Emma, if you’d just-

“But then I’ll have to figure out how to pay Will and Tink-”

“Or you could just give this guy a chance, maybe?” Ruby said sharply and a bit pointedly. “I’m not letting you sabotage the biggest fucking thing to happen to you because I can’t play for a few weeks.  The fans don’t care who’s in the backing band, they’re paying to see you.”

“Then they won’t mind an acoustic show, will they?” Emma snapped back.

“No, but it’s also not what you’ve been teasing on Instagram for the past few months.  Not to mention all the techies and roadies that have already been hired that will be fired because they’ll be deemed unnecessary.  Plus isn’t it in your contract with the label that any major changes to the tour had to be approved by them?  I can tell you right now they won’t approve of anything this close to the start date.”

Emma hated that Ruby was right but couldn’t help one last argument, “And replacing you with some rando off the street isn’t a major change?”

“First off: the label cares even less about who’s in the backing band then the fans do.  As long as we make you sound good and don’t upstage you they’re happy,” Ruby said flippantly. “Second: Jones isn’t some rando, he’s actually a session guitarist and has played on a few songs on your last two albums.  Third: This is your best option and you know it.”

“I don’t know it,” she grumbled, “He could still be a problem, you know, personality wise or whatever.”

“Okay, sure,” Ruby conceded, “but you won’t know unless you give him a chance.  So will you?  Give him a chance?”

“Ugh, fine, but if he sucks I’m definitely writing a song called ‘I fucking told you so’.”

“And if he doesn’t I get to write it and you’ll have to play the terrible result at the final show,” Ruby said gleefully.

“I hate you,” Emma sighed, falling back so she was laying across the width of her bed.

“No you don’t,” Ruby paused and Emma could hear murmuring in the background. “Hey, the doctor’s back and they’re ready to get my bones a crackin’.  You can complain about it more tonight.  Meat lovers supreme, extra large, and bring those cinnamon sticky things too!”

Ruby hung up before Emma could utter a sound.  She chuckled to herself before the reality of the situation sunk back in.  For Ruby’s sake she’d give the Jones guy a chance but she had little faith that it would work out as easily as Ruby had made it sound.  Nothing had ever worked out easily for her before, no use in getting her hopes up again.

[twinklecheeks]

Friends With Benefits (Jeff Wittek Imagine) Part 6

Summary: Jeff and Y/N have been hooking up for a while. The whole vlog squad assumes they’re dating and Y/N does too but Jeff doesn’t like labels. He eventually starts to express interest in Natalie.

Note: Planning on making this a multiple part series, depending on how good it does.  You’re 21 & Latina in this (maybe) series. Also, I’d like to apologize for the typos, if there are any. I’m just illiterate lmao.  

-I’d also like to say that I am SO sorry about not updating the series in 8 months. I started writing this the week school started last semester. I attempted to do it during Thanksgiving & Christmas break but I didn’t have the energy to do it. I know that we’re all struggling in quarantine and going through withdrawal because David has only 1 video in almost 2 months. I’m going to *TRY* to update this 2 times a week.

Warnings! Pregnancy, smut, nsfw, 18+

Don't read this if you don't like smut

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

Word Count: 1.5k

You and David have practically been dating soon after the gender reveal and finally made it official but you don’t plan to announce it on social media anytime soon. He’s been helping you a lot. Since you’ve found out you were having twin girls, you went straight to planning on how the nursery would look like. Everytime David comes over, he brings stuff like baby toys, clothes, the whole shabang. I know that David isn’t the father but he’s very excited about the babies. You thought your first trimester was difficult and it was but there’s a big problem when in the second trimester…. You’ve become horny 24/7; before pregnancy, you had sex often and you loved it. But since being pregnant, you’ve been deprived of it! You bought a bunch of dildos and vibrators cause you just couldn’t handle it anymore. You would rub yourself, fuck yourself with the dildo or use the vibrator several times just to get through the day.

Texting Kylie:

Y/n: “why didn’t you tell me the second trimester makes you super horny”

Kylie: “GIRL STOOOP. Looking back on my pregnancy, that was the funniest part. Your hormones are just all over the place. I used toys and it helped but I also was with Travis”

Y/n: “I’ve been using them but it doesn’t feel the same as actually fucking someone.”

Kylie: “Why don’t you ask David? ;)”

Y/n: “Whaaat noo! I can’t”

Kylie: “Why not? Isn’t he your boyfriend? It’s not like he would turn you down and plus, it’s not like you can get more pregnant than you already are.”

Y/n: “I mean true but idk. I just feel weird. I’m fat and pregnant with twins. I love my girls already but why couldn’t they just be one baby”

Kylie: “blame Jeff’s super sperm”

Y/n: “I also blame myself. We were fucking all the time, anytime, anywhere”

Kylie: “Anywhere?”

Y/n: “Yeah… remember Zane’s earthquake challenge video at target? Jeff and I may have had a quickie in one of the dressing rooms…”

Kylie: “What the fuck”

Y/n: “Yeah. I know. Not my proudest moment”

Kylie: “but girl i’m serious, ASK DAVID”

Y/N: “Ugh fine. But if he says no, I’m moving away and changing my identity because this shit is embarrassing”

*On the phone with David*

Y/n: “Heyy, can I come over?”

David: “Yeah, of course. Are you okay?

Y/n: “Well… technically yes but… ummm…. I’d rather just discuss this in person”

David: “Sure”

*Y/n arrives at David’s house*

Y/n: *Gives David a quick kiss* “Hey Dave.” David: “Hey babe. You sounded a little weird on the phone.” Y/n: “I mean you’re not wrong… I just have a little tiny problem and I’m going to lose my mind if it isn’t resolved” David: “what’s the problem?” Y/n: “Ugh this is so awkward I don’t want to ask” David: *David wheeze laugh* “Dude just tell me”, Y/n: “Okay umm… i’msuperfuckinghornyandi’mwonderingifyoucanhavesexwithmeifnoticompletelyunderstand.” David: “Can you please say it slower cause I only understood like 2 words.” Y/n: “I said that I’m super fucking horny and I’m wondering if you can have sex with me if not, I completely understand…” David: “Like, how bad is it?” Y/n: “Ooo boy it’s baaad.” David: “Well, we’re technically together and I wasn’t sure if you were thinking about taking that step because you’re pregnant.” Y/n: “I’m open to ANYTHING rn. I just need to be fucked HARD.”

David: *Grabs y/n’s hand and leads her to his room* Y/n: “Is Natalie home? I don’t want her to hear us.” David: “Don’t worry. She’s at Todd’s.” Y/n: “At Todd’s?” David: “Yeah, Todd had a thing for her before Jeff did and he basically went for Natalie when Todd told him that he was going to ask her out.” Y/n: *pulls in David for a needy kiss and moans* David: “wow you really are horny.” *Pushes y/n on the bed and takes off her shirt* Y/n: *unclips her bra* “Do anything that’ll make me cum please.” David: *looks at y/n’s tits and sucks on the right nipple* “Wow. Your tits have gotten… wow.” You cry out in pleasure, letting your head fall back, your mouth open. They were so sensitive that every twirl of his tongue made your pussy even more wet. Y/n: *smirks* “You’ve noticed?” David: “okay... I may have had wet dreams about you.” Y/n: “good.” David: *gets undressed and pulls off your pants* “you have no idea how much I’ve dreamt about eating you out.” Y/n: “please. Do something.” David: *His fingers reach your clit.”  Y/n: *You gasp at the feeling of him pressing down on your clit* “mmmm oh my god. Please suck on my clit.” David: *David twirls his tongue around your clit and fingers you* “babe you’re so wet. I can’t wait to fuck you sensless.” *David sucks your clit and fingers you faster* Y/n: “please don’t stop. I NEED to cum.” David: *feels her walls pulsate and she squirts on him* Y/n: “oh my god. Please make me cum like that 10 more times tonight.” David: “are you sure you want to do this?” Y/n: “I haven’t been this sure about something in a long time.” David: *aligns himself with your center and slowly thrusted into you.*  Y/n: *moans, almost screams* “holy fuck. I know your going slow not to hurt me but Dave, I want you to fuck me until I can’t walk.” David: *he hears you out and the lust took over and started pounding into you fast and hard* Y/n: “DAVID OH MY GOD PLEASE KEEP FUCKING ME I’M SO CLOSE.” David: “Shit I’m close too babe” *pounds y/n as fast as he can and cums inside her.” Y/n: *cums right after* “oh...my…” David: *pulls out and sees his cums drip out* “Damn. I don’t think I’ve ever cummed that hard.” Y/n: “If you keep fucking me like that, it’s going to be hard for me to keep my hands off you haha.” David: “I would not have a problem w/ that at all.”

(it’s getting close to thanksgiving and Jeff decides to fly home to Staten Island early and the only people who kind of know about the situation are his siblings)

Jeff: “Hey ma.” Jeff’s mom: “Hello Jeffrey. Natalie couldn’t come?” Jeff: “yeah no. We’re kind of on a break rn.” Jeff’s mom: “Oh well that's too bad. Hopefully she’ll come for Christmas.” Karyn (Jeff’s older sister): “hey Jeff. Can you help me out w/ shopping? I have to go to Manhattan” Jeff: “Sure.”

*On the Staten Island Ferry*  

Karyn: “Okay so now that we’re alone, can you actually tell me what the fuck did you do.” Jeff: “Excuse me? The fuck you talking about?” Karyn: “I know that made up bullshit about y/n getting knocked up by a rando and Natalie asking for a break is a damn lie. Y/n was in love w/ you but you ignored all the signs and Natalie, she would only ask for a break if you were being a fucking idiot. I’m your older sister. I know when you’re lying.” Jeff: “Ugh fine… Y/n is knocked up w/ my kids and I basically said some horrible stuff that wasn’t true. As for Natalie, she was there to see me say all those horrible things and she dumped me on the spot, in front of the whole friend group…” Karyn: *stares at Jeff dumbfounded* “Excuse me did you say KIDS as in PLURAL??!” Jeff: “Yeah… She’s pregnant w/ twin girls…” Karyn: “Oh Jeffrey why the fuck did you act that way. You’re such an idiot. If mom and dad found out about this, they’d literally murder you.” Jeff: “I don’t know… I think it was because I got into something so serious less than a year after being dumped by Cierra; I panicked and I sabotaged myself. I know I’m wrong but I already fucked everything up. Everybody hates me.” Karyn: “I thought you changed Jeff when you got out of Prison.” Jeff: “What do you mean you *thought*” Karyn: “You have trouble w/ responsibility. When we were at your trial, you said you were not guilty, even when you got to prison, you still said you weren’t guilty but you were.” Jeff: “That’s different.” Karyn: “How?? You’re refusing to accept responsibility for those 2 babies. Jeff, you’re almost 30 years old. It took you 4 years after you got out to come to terms with what you did. Is it gonna take you until your 34 to realize you fucked y/n and those twin girls over? What is she gonna say when they ask for their dad huh? Sorry, daddy didn’t care about you? You either fix things with y/n ASAP or I’m gonna tell mom and dad.” Jeff: “what the fuck are you 5?! Why we gotta bring them into this?” Karyn: “so they fucking knock some sense into you Jeff and you know they are 100x worse than I am. I ain’t doin’ nothing to you rn because we’re in public. Imma give you until New Years... if you don’t tell them, then they gonna hear it from me...”

Karyn was never afraid to tell Jeff and their other brother how it is. Jeff knew that Karyn was right but he had no idea how he could possibly apologize for being a horrible human being to you. Will Jeff apologize before New Years? Will y/n forgive him?  

Comment if you want to be on the taglist!

Taglist: @elvlogsquad​ @siemprestan​ @zavidzobrik​ @galxydefender​ @iminlovewithenchilidadas​ @ilsolee​

[sierraraeck]

How to Lose Friends

BAU x OC Aundreya

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Summary: When Aundreya’s presence is requested at the BAU, she doesn’t know what to think, and is dreading the reactions of her previous teammates. Especially that of Doctor Spencer Reid. Story sixteen.

Category: Some angst.

Warnings: Cussing. Normal CM talk. Mentions of prison.

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: I hit 100k words of fanfic I’ve written for this series in this part.

The buzz of the bell signaling a door opening jolted me awake.

What the fuck? Why is my door being opened?

The light streaming in from the hallway, invading my dark little space, was blinding. The only solace was the dark figure shielding most of the light from my eyes.

“What?” I rasped.

“Aundreya Chambers, lovely to see you again,” the voice was coated with sarcasm. While still somewhat unfamiliar to me, I knew who’s face belonged to that type of bitchy sarcasm.

“Majesty Strauss, welcome to my humble home. Would you like a tour before we begin?” I still barely had my eyes open, denying the fact that my minimal sleep was being desturbed. She moved further into the cell in order to stand right in front of me.

“Get up. Your presence has been requested at the BAU.”

“What? Why do they want me?” I finally opened my eyes enough to stare up at her stone cold bitchface. That was the last thing I was expecting this morning. “Is it so they each take their turn reminding me how much they hate me?”

“Stop whining and get up. They need your help,” she all but rolled her eyes, the sound of her heels clicking back over to my cell door.

“With what?” I insisted.

“I’ll brief you on the drive.” Strauss completely exited my box while I laid my head back against the thin as paper pillow, letting out an irritated sigh. “Are you coming?”

“Do I have a choice?” She gave the tightest lipped, most forced smile I’d seen a human give as one of the officers came to clasp the handcuffs around my wrists.

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

The first half of the drive was dull. Strauss wasn’t much for small talk, especially with someone like me, and she refused to let me in on what was happening until we were only a few minutes out from headquarters.

It was Maeve. She’d had a stalker for a while, and now there was reason to believe she’s in immediate danger. That’s all she told me.

We finally arrived at Quantico, and I almost wanted to laugh. It’d been… what? Fifteen months since the last time I’d been there? The feeling of walking back in felt oddly familiar, like the first time I entered the building as a convicted criminal who was meeting the team. Despite the three years I’d spent with them, I was standing there as if nothing had changed. Actually, that’s not true. Things had changed. They’d gotten worse. Now, instead of wondering how they’d react to a somewhat normal looking girl who’d had a rough past, I knew exactly how they’d react to a psycho looking, handcuffed, last-time-I-saw-you-I-confessed-to-murder, criminal. And I didn’t want any part of it.

But if that’s how they were gonna see me, I might as well have worn it with pride. I had a reputation to uphold.

I was pushed through the glass doors into the bullpen, and everyone’s eyes snapped to me. I must’ve been quite the sight: disheveled, frizzy braids, cuts and bruises on every visible part of my body (and most non visible parts, too), my orange jumpsuit peeking through the stained, weak excuse they called sweats, not to mention the chains connecting my handcuffs to the links around my ankles. Upon entering, they removed my cuffs, but kept a watchful eye on me as I approached the door to the briefing room. The people behind there were the ones I really cared about. Or, at least, cared even a shard about in comparison to the utter indifference I felt toward everyone else.

I closed my eyes, and took a long, deep breath before forcing the door open. I had barely entered the room, barely made eye contact with Hotch standing opposite me, before both my shoulder blades were shoved against the wall behind me, long fingers wrapping around my throat.

“What is she doing here?” the hiss in Reid’s voice sounded exactly how I’d imagined it in my head, preparing myself for this encounter. He looked almost as bad as me. His curls were going in a million directions, and I could only imagine the amount of times he’d run his hands through them. His eyes were blood-shot and slightly puffy, and the dark bags underneath seemed more defined. The only thing that contrasted all of that, and let me know his head was still in it, was the darkness in them. There was nothing lighthearted or soft about them anymore, at least, not for the moment and not for me. Not to mention the rage I could see boiling at the surface. It was like looking in a funhouse mirror.

Morgan and Hotch made a move to pull him off of me, but I waved them away. I knew this was coming, and the sooner we got it over with, the sooner we could go back to our new normal. “I was invited.”

“By who?” I could hear the betrayal coating his voice before he even knew who it was.

“You didn’t tell him?” It was Rossi that spoke up.

“I was about to,” Hotch stated, “She showed up a bit earlier than I anticipated.”

Reid just stood there, orbs of fire replacing his eyes. “Let go of me,” I forced out through clenched teeth. He did as I asked, taking a staggering step back and just bore holes into me. I replied with a smirk. “So what do you need me for?”

“As Strauss should have already told you, Maeve is missing and there is reason to believe she’s in danger,” Hotch recited.

“Great. So what do you need me for?” I repeated. They were great profiles, I couldn’t see anything I’d add to the group.

“As you know, there have been people in the past that threatened her safety, and they have been people you’ve had a connection with.”

I arched an eyebrow. “So you think that the person responsible for Maeve’s disappearance is some street rat I’d know?”

“If you want to put it that way, sure,” Hotch confirmed.

“Okay, then you guys have seriously lost brain cells since I left,” I let out a bitter laugh, “There’s no way some rando on the street would care about some lame doctor.” I saw Reid’s posture tighten up, and I didn’t really fancy the idea of being slammed into the wall again, so I shot him a quick, “No offense.”

“What makes you so sure?” Morgan asked.

“Look, all I’m saying, is that I don’t see how she’d hold any value to anyone on the streets. Unless she’s all the sudden a drug lord, running a gang, or saw too much, they wouldn’t care about her. And let’s say for fun she is one of those things, and someone on the streets did take her, she’s already dead,” I pointed out. Reid flinched. “People on the streets don’t play with their food.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Reid hissed.

I shrugged. “I’m just saying. But either way, case closed or start over. Neither of which require me.”

“They might, actually,” Hotch said.

“What now?” I grumbled.

“We might still want to utilize your other skills.”

“And what are those, exactly? You can all profile just fine without me,” I scoffed. “Clearly, you’ve been doing just fine these past 15 months. Speaking of, where is my replacement?”

Looking around the room, I didn’t see Doctor Lewis.

“She’s gone for this one, so we could use another person,” Hotch acknowledged.

“Cool. So find another person.”

“Aundreya, we could use your ability to track down people. We can profile all we want, and have Garcia send us all the information she can dig up, but we need someone who can actually locate them. Someone who knows how to find people without a record or paper trail, who don’t want to be found. And based on the other working profile we have, that’s exactly the type of person we’d be tracking down.”

I let out an annoyed sigh and rolled my eyes. There was no way I was getting out of this, so I forced out, “Fine. Let’s find Reid’s girlfriend.”

The whole room of people, myself included, starting moving with a purpose toward something to do. Everyone except for Doctor Reid. He was just standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, staring at me.

I tried so hard to ignore him, and I was about to say something when Morgan beat me to it, placing a hand on his shoulder and murmuring, “Kid, what’s going on?”

His answer was not directed at Morgan. “Nothing else? That’s it, that’s all you have to say?”

I looked up at him and even I could feel the boredom in my eyes. “What else is there to say?”

After a few deafening moments, he sternly whispered, “Was any of it real?”

I could tell by his face the deeper questions behind it. Did you ever actually care about me? Were you just manipulating and using me the whole time? Was the possibility of ‘us’ just an illusion?

“I could ask you the same question,” I snapped. It suddenly felt like he and I were the only ones in the room, like we were moving across a silver screen while the rest of the team watched from their theatre seats.

“I still wanna know why.”

“Why what? There’s a lot I’ve done, you’re gonna have to be more specific,” I deadpanned.

“All of it. Prison, letting me take the fall, Darrell-”

I stopped him right there. “Inmates kill each other all the time. It was a means of survival. I had to, I couldn’t let you die, and I couldn’t let you be the killer either, now could I? You’re not the damaged one-”

It was his turn to cut me off, and I was surprised by his words, “You're not damaged.”

“What makes you so sure?” I was quick to refute, “Only one of us should have to carry that burden around. And like you said, what’s another name to add to my list?”

“Is that what you were carrying around with you all the time?” Prentiss’s question seemed so genuine, I just answered.

“Yes, that and…” then I realized what she’d just admitted to.

“And what?” she probed.

“Wait, were you guys watching me?” I accused. The silence that followed, along with ‘oh shit’ glances were all I needed. “You were, weren't you! That whole time you just watched? And did nothing to help me!”

“What were we supposed to do?” Morgan joined in.

“Something, anything!” I looked back over to Reid, his hands in his pockets and his eyes still burning up. “Do you even want me on this case?” I was looking for any and every excuse to get out of this room, and away from these people.

“You are a big help,” Hotch intervened.

“I didn’t ask you,” I shot Hotch a glance out of the corner of my eye, then directed my attention back at Reid, enunciating each word carefully, “Do you want me on this case?”

“Why would you ask that?” he dodged.

“Because last time I checked, I was supposed to be staying out of Maeve’s life,” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“You are, but these are extenuating circumstances,” he returned my look.

“So you do want my help,” I clarified.

“I want your skills.”

I let out a disgusted chuckle, venom dripping from my words. “Oh I get it. You only want me around when it's convenient for you. Otherwise you just wanna give up on me and let me rot in there.”

Reid broke eye contact with me. “All the evidence pointed to you.”

His words sent a shiver up my spine, as the neurons in my brain started firing at rapid speed. I’d heard those words before; rather, I’d seen those words before, and I couldn’t resist reciting what followed. “But the one thing you can’t stop thinking about is what Hotch said the night we got caught?”

His eyes immediately snapped back to mine, looking astonished. “What?”

I set my jaw, and continued, “That you were manipulating me the whole time and I’d fallen into the trap of a professional criminal, even as a profiler. I don’t want to believe that, but maybe it’s true.”

Derek jumped in, “What are you talking about?”

I ignored him. “Maybe you’re the one who’s been using me this whole time. I don’t have the answers, and I don’t think I ever will. Don’t keep tabs on me. I know you have the means to, in whatever capacity, but I don’t want you tracking my life.”

“Stop, Aundreya, please,” he pleaded. If you didn’t want those words getting out, didn’t want your team to realize how vile you could be, you should have thought about that before sending me that letter.

I wasn’t gonna stop. Instead, I started pulling the paper out of my pocket. “I no longer want you to be a part of it. And stay out of Maeve’s, in case you think that’s some twisted loophole you can use. This is no longer your family.” By the end, I felt just a little moisture coming to the surface, but I choked my tears back down.

“What is she talking about?” Morgan insisted.

Reid’s mouth was slightly open, struggling to find the right words to explain this. I wasn’t going to give him the chance. I tossed his letter, folded up to fit in my pocket, on the table. It slid across and stopped right in the middle. “His letter. The piece of paper you saw me walking around with, this is it. My list on one side, his letter on the other.”

“Aundreya-” Reid attempted.

“You didn’t even sign your name,” I shook my head, “You couldn’t even sign your fucking name. It’s pathetic. And just so you know, the evidence pointed toward me because I helped it to.”

“So you did or didn’t want to go to prison?” he asked me.

“Of course I didn’t want to go, Reid,” I answered like it was the dumbest question I’d ever heard.

“Then why'd you take the fall for me?”

“Because you didn’t do it.”

“But neither did you, right?”

It sounded like more of a mockery than a question, but I answered, “Right.”

“Then why did you do it?”

“Jesus Spence! I did it because I-” Oh shit.

All eyes were on me as he slowly asked, “You what?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” With that, I stormed out of the room using the back door, and made my way up to the rooftop.

The cool breeze hit me in an instant, and I relished in the fresh air. It’s crazy how easily I took that for granted the three years I was out. I leaned up against the railing as I soaked in this feeling. I wouldn’t get to keep it for long.

I heard the door creak open, and knew who it was before she could even say anything.

“You know, I understand why he’s mad. He thinks I let him sit in prison for something I did, you all do,” I quickly tacked on.

“That’s not true,” Emily’s voice could be so soft sometimes.

“It’s okay, I get why you all believe it. I would have too if I were you. I mean, my whole life has consisted of lying, manipulating, and cheating.” I looked over at her once she’d joined me at the railing. Her face was kind, as if she was inviting me to continue. “I hate everything about it.”

“Is that why your name is on the bottom of that list?”

I hadn’t even thought about them seeing that. Fuck me. “Did you know that Aundreya isn’t even my real name?” I offered instead.

“Alionth?” she guessed.

I gave a single laugh. “No. I was born Clara Spade. I was her all the way up until the Slaughterer saw me. When we went into WITSEC, my name was changed to Cassy Sae. I lived as her until our house burnt down, and I begged Gideon to help me disappear. Cassy Sae died that day with her mom and sister, and I changed my name again to Aundreya Chambers. It was Aundreya who hit the streets and joined a gang. It was Aundreya who was The Figure and moved up the ranks until she ran the joint. When the gang collapsed and I started the ring, I don’t know, I guess I just wanted a new name. A new name had marked the beginning of a new chapter in my life up until that point, why not keep the tradition, you know?” Emily nodded along to my words. “I chose Alionth because I’d already been using that as my stage name at clubs, and a lot of the people I recruited I met at clubs. I actually ran my whole operation out of one, so the name just naturally fell into place. Then I made just about the biggest mistake of my life, which landed me in prison. In prison, most people were street rats, so those who did know me, knew me as Aundreya, so I went back to being her.”

“And who are you now?” she asked me.

I sighed. “I… I have no idea. I’ve been Aundreya for the majority of my life, but I just don’t know if she’s good enough anymore.”

“It’s not about the name. I know you think it does, but the name has nothing to do with who you are.”

“I don’t know, it sure feels like that.”

“It’s not true. Falling into that trap is unwise, it’ll hurt you more than it already has,” her eyes were wide, and I could tell she was trying to read me.

“So you think I’m stupid?” I asked.

“No, the exact opposite actually. I think you are so smart and are looking so many steps ahead, that you can no longer see what’s right in front of you.”

“And what’s that?”

“That you’re afraid.” I scoffed at her, but she was completely serious.

“I am not,” I insisted.

“You are. You’ve been hurt so many times, betrayed even, and now you won’t allow anyone in.” She sounded like she was speaking from experience. The silence hung between us before she said what I’d been waiting on the whole time. “Just tell him.”

“What?” I tried to play it off.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Emily said, in that stern but caring tone she’d mastered. We both knew I knew what she was talking about, and I’d been too hopeful she’d ignore my near-confession only minutes earlier.

“I can’t,” I said, my voice dropping.

“Why not? I think he deserves to know that you lov-”

“Don’t say that,” I cut her off like my life depended on it, “Emily, I’m telling you, I can’t. I can’t do that to him,” my eyes were wide with pleading, and I’m sure I looked like a wild animal in headlights.

“Give me a good reason why.”

You say that as if I haven’t already compiled a list in my head of all the reasons we wouldn’t work over the past three years.

But I opted only for the biggest reason, the one at the very top of my list. “Because I’m terrified that it will kill us both.”

“Huh?”

“Look at us. We’re a disaster! I mean, hell knows, we’ve both already almost died for the other. I don’t want to take the chance that next time we won’t be so lucky,” I explained. And if we aren’t, at least one of us should be able to get out and that person is not me. I could tell there was something else lingering on Emily’s face, but I filled the airspace before she could. “No, I need him to hate me. It’ll be easier this way, because when this goes south, and it will go south, it makes it that much easier for him to just forget about me and move on, move on with Maeve, his great girlfriend who can actually be there for him in a way I haven’t been able to, in a way I don’t even think I’m capable of.”

“I would call going to prison for him ‘being there’ for him, even to an extreme, and I think you should let him make his own choice about how he feels about you,” she gave me a pointed look, “knowing all the facts.”

I shook my head. She just wasn’t getting this. “It’s better this way, trust me, I’ve seen it before, been there before, too many times. It’s better if he already hates me going into this. It would be unfair of me to lay that on him, knowing what I’m going to have to do.”

“And what is that?” I stared at her, open-mouthed, and once she realized I wasn’t going to answer her, she asked, “This is about more than just Maeve, isn’t it?”

Yes. There are people who are hunting me down, and I’m scared shitless that you, and Spencer, and the rest of the team will get caught in the crossfire, and yet again, it will be my fault that practically the only people on this planet I care about, who’ve actually cared about me at some point, will be dead. I wanted so badly to tell her, to get everything off my chest, but I just couldn’t. The less she, and the team, knew, the better.

“Is this about those other two names on the list?”

“You saw that, huh?”

“Yeah. Is that what this is also about? The whole ‘end of the world, protecting Reid’ vibe you have going on?”

I didn’t know how to answer, so again, I just stood there silently.

“It sounds to me like you’re giving up, expecting to die,” Emily filled in the silence.

“I am definitely expecting to die, and I’m expecting it to be nasty, and hateful, and to completely ruin me, yes. But like hell I’m giving up.” I wanted to make that perfectly clear.

“Good. So while I don’t know what else is going on, and you clearly aren’t open to telling me, I do know that Maeve needs our help. Yours specifically. And I can’t imagine how much this sucks for you, but-”

“I know,” I said, nodding, “We have a case.”

# # # # # # # # # # # # #

While Emily and I were out, the rest of the team had gone back to trying to put pieces together. The moment I walked in the door was the same moment Reid left. JJ walked out after him, but not before giving Emily a knowing look. It’s like they were tag teaming us or something. I tried to blow it off.

“Get anything?” I huffed.

“Maybe…” Derek trailed off.

“What does that mean?”

“We have a list of people we want you to look over,” Rossi said, handing over his tablet.

“Damn, already?” I questioned.

“Have you already forgotten how quickly I work?” Penelope looked over at me with an amused face.

“Well, time hasn’t exactly been my friend as of late so I might be a little rusty, but no, my liege, you just never cease to amaze me.” And with that, I felt some of the tension release from the room. Not much, but I’d take it. I think everyone would take it.

We worked well into the night, looking over people and sending pairs of agents out to question the promising ones, and as I expected, every single one was a dead end.

Until one of them wasn’t.

The boys had just got back from interviewing Robert Putnam’s, Maeve’s fiance, parents.

“He look good for this?” I asked as soon as Hotch stormed into the room, Rossi and Morgan right on his heels. Reid hung back, like we were repelling ends of a magnet.

“I want you on him.” Hotch had barely gotten the command out before I reached for the door handle.

“I don’t.” The words were hot and dry and coming from none other than Doctor Reid.

I stopped to face him. “Why not?”

“I don’t trust you. Who’s to say you won’t just run off? Then we’d let a high-profile criminal walk free and let Maeve…” he cut himself off, and I saw him swallow, probably choking down the tears with it.

“Reid,” Hotch barely drew his attention away from me.

“It’s okay,” I assured Hotch, “I get that you don’t trust me. None of you do. But I need you to make up your mind. Either you want me helping or you don’t.” When I got no more than a few blinks, I continued, “Look, you don’t have to trust me, okay? All you have to trust is my skills. Like you said, I’m a professional at things like this, so I can handle tracking one simple weasel. Not to mention, that if I didn’t want to be here, or I wanted to’ve escaped, I would have done it already. And if you’re worrying about my capacity to actually treat this case with some care, don’t. I already blindly tried to get myself shot for her before I even knew who she was, remember? So if you don’t wanna trust me, great. Don’t. I’m fine with that. But trust my abilities and what I know, what you know, I can do.”

I stared at him so long, that I wondered if small roots started pushing their way into the ground below me.

“Okay. Go,” was all I got, but it was all I needed.

I gave him a single nod, and headed for the door.

I got just a few feet out when Hotch’s voice caught me, “Chambers.”

I spun around to face him. Once he pulled the door shut, I asked, “What’s up?”

“He’ll come around.”

I snorted, “You’re funny, Aaron,” I spoke through laughs, “Got any other good jokes before I head out?”

“I’m serious.” I don’t know what it was in his tone, but it snapped me completely out of it.

“He won’t. I fucked up, real bad, and I broke a promise to him,” I lowered my voice so I was whisper-yelling the next part, “Hell! I killed a man in front of him!”

“We all have,” he nonchalantly stated. The disconnect I was feeling had to have been obvious, and he proceeded, “We shoot people in front of him all the time. We do it to save other people, we’ve even done it to save him a few times. How is it any different?”

My eyes went wide, and I couldn’t believe it was Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner who was saying these things to me right now. “No you don’t understand. I promised people, I promised myself, that that wasn’t who I was anymore. But that's exactly who I am. I said that I wouldn’t do things like that again, and then I did, breaking my promise and proving that I’m exactly the same as I was all those years ago. Someone you, and he, can’t trust.”

“We both know that’s not true.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he just kept going without me, “The way he reacted to you getting arrested that night is something I don’t think I’ll ever forget. He looked disgusted with me, after I aided you in your plan to get him out. He said to me, ‘You can’t do this, Hotch, you can’t let this happen!’ He was so hostile that he cussed at me and tried to hit me,” I audibly gasped at this information. I could never see Reid acting like that, but I would know just how much prison changes a person. “Morgan had to restrain him before all the work you’d just done to get him out of prison went to waste on something as stupid as him acting out.”

I didn’t know what to say, “Hotch, I…”

“I knew what you were doing, so while Morgan tried to get him to calm down, I told him that you were giving him an out. We knew that there was a very high likelihood that he was going to die in there, but we knew that you wouldn’t.” He offered a small chuckle then, which totally threw me for a loop.

“What is it, what’s funny?”

“Spencer said that we couldn’t know that, and it was Morgan who said, and I believe he used these exact words, ‘She’s strong. Plus, they’ll want her in solitary, worried that she’ll do much more damage to others than they’ll do to her.’”

Even I had to crack a smile at that. “He’s not wrong.”

“He definitely was not. I think he was still recovering from that nasty black eye you gave him.”

I offered a not-so-regretful grimace.

“One more thing,” I looked up at him as he spoke, his tone returning to that of seriousness. “It doesn’t have to be right now, or within the next couple of months even, but he deserves to know the truth.”

I don’t even know why I tried, but it was my natural reaction to deflect. “What are you talking about?”

“It doesn’t take a profiler to know that memorizing and reciting the only piece of contact you’ve had with him verbatim shows how much you care about him and what he thinks of you. And based on the sole fact that you don’t really seem to care at all what anyone thinks of you, that speaks volumes.”

I stood there blinking at him for a moment or two before having my wits come back to me. I started to shake my head, but he continued to speak.

“Do you really want to prove that you’re not like that anymore, that you’ve changed?”

He always seemed to know the right questions. I nodded my head, “Yes.”

The great Aaron Hotchner looked me straight in the eyes, “Then go catch this killer.”

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