#you know hes got at least two guys willing to drive hours just for him

[kaisaerinlover]

nagi seishiro

tw: dubcon manipulation kinda grooming kinda incel themes

one thing about seishiro nagi is that he does not care about anything. he doesn’t want to do anything, especially not get a girlfriend. the guy was looking seriously rough until he met your brother reo. reo fixed him up a bit, and nagi definitely got more in shape after meeting reo, you could say he’s pretty hot now. but he still didn’t care for girls much. honestly he’s, in the past especially, probably what most people could have defined as an incel. but he was fine with that ‘cause he never cared about girls anyway. girls are a hassle. all he wants to do is play video games. girls don’t bother him and he doesn’t bother them. so imagine his surprise when reo’s imouto suddenly takes a random interest in him.

reo and nagi always stay at reo’s place, ‘cause it’s easier anyway, now they actually have fans and people that care, and nagi’s place isn’t really the most protected. reo is off doing something else and nagi’s playing video games in his own allocated room. he likes it, it’s good, no one to bother him, talking with people is a hassle. until you come into the picture. you’re so sweet, so cute, and he doesn’t want to be mean, you’re the younger sister of his best friend, after all. you take an interest in his game, and he indulges you, explaining to you lazily the premise of the game and granting you with the oh so lucky opportunity to sit and watch him play. and you do, you sit next to his chair on the floor and watch him play for hours. nagi grows to like you, you’re not much of a hassle at all, and you’re not too sore on the eye either. you’re actually really cute.

reo notices too, and rolls his eyes and smiles at you whenever you pester nagi. he can tell nagi doesn’t care, and he’s glad about that. but he’s curious, why is nagi even indulging you in the first place? seriously, he thinks eating is a hassle, he can’t even take care of himself most of the time, so why is he willing to entertain the youngest mikage? to put it lightly, nagi is a bit of a weirdo, reo thinks, and he takes interest in the most random of things, so maybe it’s just that. and reo doesn’t think too much of it, he should have though, not that it would matter anyway.

you’re just so cute, nagi thinks. he can’t help but actually want to have you around. and you’re so pliant, so interested in what he’s doing, poor thing. nagi coaxes you to come sit on his lap whilst he’s playing, and god does it feel good. he prays you don’t notice his hard on, but you’re so engrossed in watching him play he guesses you didn’t. but it’s still a hassle, you know. these feelings of want towards you, he’s not going to put in that much effort, seriously, that’s a lot of work, and he doesn’t have such a drive. but reo does. reo will do anything for nagi ‘cause that’s what friends are for. nagi is his treasure too, you know? not just you, imouto.

and that’s how it starts, reo essentially gifts his little sister to nagi seishiro. and the funniest part, to those two at least, is that you’re none the wiser. you don’t even notice that reo purposefully leaves you 2 alone way more often now, you don’t notice how nagi feels you up as you sit on his lap until it’s too late. you’re his now, and nii chan isn’t coming to help you ‘cause he’s the reason you’re in this mess! finding out your brother did this is a stab in the heart, it’s only after you realise what nagi is doing and you protest that he hushes you and tells you. “sh, stop squirming ‘kay? don’t be a hassle” why would you stop being a ‘hassle’? is that all this is to him? he’s touching you in places you didn’t ever let a guy touch you before, and a hassle is all it is? “n-nii chan’s gonna- b real mad at you- sei-seishiro-“ you manage to stutter out between sniffles. nagi almost laughs. almost. laughing is a hassle. “y’r nii chan is the one letting me do this” he nips at your earlobe. “you’re mine now, ‘mouto” you sob again. how could nii chan do this? and how come he’s calling you that, you’re not his imouto you’re reo’s!!!

nagi can feel his arousal, and you can feel it too, pressing against your cute little backside. “ah, look what you did” he mumbles something else about it being a hassle to take care of. but it’s fine, not anymore, cause you’re here! that’s how you find yourself sitting on the bed of your big brother’s best friend and jerking him off between sobs. honestly, nagi is getting kinda peeved at you, seriously just cut it out. he won’t treat you bad or anything? are women always this annoying, he wouldn’t know since he never had one prior to this encounter. seriously, just shut up already. he doesn’t show his annoyance though, just leans back and let’s you give him a handjob. seishiro nii is the worst for this reason, he only cares about himself!

you gasp a little in shock when he finally cums on your hand. he’s panting and a little tired, but begrudgingly gives you a pat on the head “good job, next time less crying though, angel” he likes the sight of his cum on your hand, it’s cute really, what he’s done to reo’s innocent little sister. and you just can’t believe your brother would do this to you. seriously, nii chan is mean. you thought maybe nagi was bluffing, maybe reo didn’t do this after all, so you sneak out of nagi’s room whilst he’s asleep to go and ask. all reo does is chastise you and send you back. “no ‘mouto, you gotta be a good girl for nagi, ‘kay? now go back to nagi, or do i have to take you there myself?” he’s scolding you the way a brother would his sister over a broken toy, a little tantrum, not wanting to watch the same tv show, not this?

you reluctantly trudge back to nagi’s room, where he’s laid in bed playing games on his phone. just your luck that he woke up. when you walk in the room he doesn’t even look away from the phone, just hums as if to acknowledge your presence. “don’t leave again, don’t wanna have to find you. too much hassle” he pats the bed commanding you to come and sit back down without turning away from the game. and he knows you’ll comply, because what else can you do? reo won’t help you, and you know nagi can easily overpower you if he wants to. you’re pretty stuck, aren’t you?

he’s back asleep again in no time and you’re laid awake stuck under his muscular arm. this is the first guy you talked with, reo is usually protective, it’s so intimate what you’re doing with nagi, so wrong. you’re looking up at the ceiling with blurred vision from those tears stinging at your big innocent eyes. man this sucks. but it’s okay, you’ll learn to like it, ‘cause your nii chans are gonna turn you into the perfect girl for seishiro nii! good job on getting a little sister, nagi.

sorry it’s a little short / not the best , i’m going to expand on this or come back to it definitely soon ‘cause i like this idea ty 4 readin’ if u did :3

[destinationtrekk]

domestic wesker headcanons (amab!reader)

a/n: i wrote an amab!version of my domestic headcanons! please let me know how this reads and if you guys like it :) if so i will definitely be posting amab versions of my smut going forward!

nsfw below the cut, 18+ only

amab!reader, descriptions of choking, penetration, dacryphilia, unprotected sex/finishing inside, probably more i’m missing, not beta read

masterlist

sfw:

After the whole ‘Spencer/Wesker Project debacle’ (as you had dubbed it in your head) ended, Albert opened up to you a lot….like surprisingly a lot.

you had noticed a lot on your own too though. the first being that he was a smoker

you could smell it faintly on his coat after a long day at the labs, and on his breath when he woke you to kiss you goodbye in the early mornings

you finally brought it up one day, casually asking if you should pick up a pack for him on the way back from running errands

you’ll never forget the way his face lit up red and how he sputtered like a fish out of water

he ignored you for a few hours, and then finally asked if it bothered you, avoiding your gaze

you laughed and told him you didn’t really mind, and over time you found out more

he was a chain smoker at the peak of Umbrella, right before they had perfected the T-virus (it was the ‘80s after all) but he had stopped when he joined the Army.

Then while he was in S.T.A.R.S. the stress of being a double, then triple agent got to him. He didn’t smoke nearly as much, but he couldn’t help a cig or two after a hard day

something else you’ve noticed is that he’s a perfect driver. You don’t think he even speeds, or rolls through stop signs when he’s in a hurry.

You think those are perfectly normal things, but he is very adamant that you should not be reckless in his nice cars, which, okay yeah

but he explains that he was mainly escorted during his Umbrella days, rarely having time or need to go somewhere alone until the end of it all

then he had been reprimanded for cruising a liiiittle too much in his S.T.A.R.S. cruiser, and that had been that

you do appreciate his driving when he’s taking you home after you’ve had too many drinks though

nsfw:

despite everyone thinking he’s a sadistic machine, I think he is very much the opposite

growing up sex was the last thing on his scientific mind, and then he was much too busy for anything other than a one night stand every now and then

now though, he comes home so tired he can barely keep his eyes open

It’s not like you two never sleep together. Quite the opposite in fact. Albert is a very generous lover, going as many rounds as you ask until he’s either too tired or you’re spent.

he’s got amazing stamina, even when he’s mentally drained. he prefers to take his time with you, making you finish at least once before he even touches himself

looooves to just grind against your ass and get himself soaked with lube before he thrusts inside - he uses enough lube to hear the wet slap of his hips and balls on your ass 

adores the way his cockhead catches on your rim and just teases the sharp stretch and how you moan and clench around nothing

he also loves to push in as slow as he can, making you feel every inch of him stretching your hole

this man whimpers! he moans and whines and pants in your ear like he’s been starved of touch and it turns you on just as much as his calloused hands do.

he doesn’t actually talk all that much, except to encourage you with that’s it, fuck, I’m close, let go, baby, or he’ll ask what you want him to do - unless he’s feeling fuck nasty (love that phrase)

sometimes he just needs a release, to expel all the pent up frustration, and you’re the perfect solution

he won’t even say hello when he gets home, just finds you and paws at your body like an animal until you tell him yes or no

if you say no, he respects you. completely, one hundred percent. you’re the most important thing in his life, and it’s not even enjoyable to him if you aren’t eager and willing

if you say yes though, he will be all over you. Clothes are flying off and somehow you’ve made it across the house into bed without his mouth leaving your lips and skin

he loves to take you face down when he’s like this, your ass in the air so he can lean over you and pin you down with his weight, groaning and panting in your ear while he fucks you so hard you can barely even make a sound

even when he’s tearing apart your insides, he still likes to intertwine your fingers where you’re gripping the sheets. he just covers it up as needing to hold you still

this is when he really talks, he actually won’t shut up, not that you’re complaining. he’s telling you how tight you are, how you squeeze him like a vice and he can barely pull out. the slick sounds of your hole are driving him crazy, he can’t wait to see your pretty tears when you cum around him, loves how your cock leaks a puddle under you cause you’re so desperate for him 

sometimes he likes to be rough, pulling your hair, wrapping his long thick fingers around your throat to tug you up into a sloppy kiss, gripping your hips and waist in a bruising hold, so tight you can’t even meet his pounding thrusts

always asks to finish inside you. He wants to see it drip out of your ass and down your balls and mix with your cum on the sheets he’s fucking filthy

surprisingly good at aftercare, cleans you up and holds you until you decide to get up or eventually just fall asleep on top of him. he secretly loves this part just as much as the sex, but he won’t admit it

but that’s a whole other post

[striveattemptfail]

logan howlett & wade wilson, mild-M, ~1k | spoilers for the dp&w movie. more gen than slash (technically one-sided poolverine on wade's side). rated for sexual themes and cursing thank you to B @broosepayne for the amazing beta and sharing poolverine brainworms with me ❤️🤝💛 any other mistakes are mine read on ao3

Wade’s erection had been pressing into Logan’s crotch for the better part of half an hour.

It was extremely uncomfortable at first, especially with one of the Fantastic Four kids in the corner just waggling his eyebrows at him when he somehow found out. (How? Logan didn’t fucking know.) He could’ve sliced through their bonds—sliced through Wade—with practiced ease but he knew better than to try escaping in the middle of fuck-knows-where when the baddies driving them to fuck-knows-what had a giant magnet to subdue him. Logan didn’t even know where to go if he somehow managed to escape. Better to suss out what the hell he got himself into while he had downtime and two near useless allies with him.

Even if one of them—the most annoying motherfucker alive—was all but grinding on his hip.

He’d been in weird situations like this before. Sometimes a mission meant bunking in tiny places and sharing a bed with multiple men; sometimes adrenaline meant guys got excited while squeezed together in helicarriers and transport vehicles before a take-down; sometimes dicks just got hard from a random breeze. Logan knew that crotches got into places that were awkward, but it was bearable when the majority of his teammates were actively dating women and were definitely not into him.

(He suspected more than a few of them weren’t as straight as they claimed to be, but that wasn’t any of his damn business. He’d given up on naming his own sexuality a century ago; the fuck was he supposed to do with other guys’ confusion? Best to leave them alone to deal with it themselves was his prerogative.)

All to say: Logan had had his fair share of crotches rubbing on him. A man’s hips rhythmically but unconsciously bumping into his outside of sex was not a new experience.

Wade’s constant mumbling while asleep, however, was.

Logan tuned Wade out for the most part, since he was also used to tuning out his teammates’ ramblings—at the very least so he didn’t do something stupid like slice someone’s head off when he disagreed with a plan. (Yes, Scott was often the target of these urges.) Though none of them ever dared to talk about how they had the hots for Logan before dry humping him in their sleep. Frankly, most of them didn’t have the balls to or, if they did, Logan would more than happily castrate them for trying.

So obviously Wade had to be fucking different, and with his boner pressed against Logan for the better part of half a fucking hour while mumbling and whispering nonsense the whole time...

Well.

Even Logan had to wonder what the hell the idiot was dreaming about.

Were they fucking? They had to be, if Wade’s incessant yammering when he was awake was anything to go by. Logan had only known him for a few miserable hours but he was quick to figure out that Wade was very open about his sexual fantasies—especially for those who were in close proximity to him, like Logan. It really wouldn’t be a stretch to assume Wade was dreaming about the two of them bumping uglies.

Now, Logan wasn’t a particularly vain guy, but he knew he was attractive. God knew he used to put the work into his body, even if he did try to sabotage himself by drowning in shitty booze and self-destructive behaviour most days (every day). His healing factor meant he was constantly at peak physique no matter how hard he tried, so he’d long ago accepted that he’d have people leering at him, open and willing with their attraction towards him.

And Wade had been disgustingly open about how attracted he was to Logan. Logan didn’t understand half the shit that left the other man’s mouth—would hate himself more than he currently did if he even tried figuring out what the hell Wade babbled about—but he was very much aware of how horny Wade was for him. It’d probably be flattering for anybody else, being fawned and lusted over with Wade’s brand of enthusiasm, but unluckily for him Logan was not just anybody else. He was somebody stuck with the moron with a mouth, plus heightened senses.

And Jesus fucking Christ did every single one of his senses pick up on Wade’s arousal. Even without hearing the constant spew of bullshit leaving Wade’s face, Logan could smell how turned on he was from miles away. During their earlier fight, before they were interrupted by Victor and his Merry Little Bandits, Logan regrettably saw that Wade didn’t wear a cup and that he enjoyed showing off his growing chub for everyone to see.

Then again, even a human without an animalistic mutation could feel Wade’s prick standing at attention against them.

Wade suddenly moaned, a little louder than before, and the Fantastic Four Guy piped up, “Sounds like he’s having a good time, huh?” He waggled his eyebrows again, throwing a smirk in this time.

Logan glared back, eyes cutting and narrowed, a silent shut the fuck up made loud and clear despite not opening his mouth. Fantastic Four Guy rolled his eyes and lifted his bound hands in surrender before looking away.

A groan escaped Wade this time, along with his head lolling around, which meant—thank fuck—he was probably waking up.

Then Wade grumbled, “God of thunder, ngh, eugh—!”

Hrm.

So Wade wasn’t dreaming about him this whole time. The hard-on Logan had been dealing with for thirty whole minutes was because of Thor.

Which meant Logan was trapped in the desert, tied to the most annoying man to ever walk on two legs, and the boner poking at his hip wasn’t even for him.

What a fucking joke.

Pushing away his simultaneous relief and (what the fucking fuck) disappointment, Logan chose to focus on Wade finally waking up.

“How long was I asleep?” Wade slurred.

Logan didn’t hesitate to let his annoyance be known.

“Not all of you was asleep.”

He squinted his eyes and even shot Wade the tiniest, most sarcastic smile. Hopefully the bastard knew that it meant Logan was going to tear him a new one for making him deal with Wade’s annoying dick over goddamn Thor of all people after they dealt with—

—whatever they had to deal with at the end of this ride.

——————————————

(More notes on Ao3.)

[bokutooooo]

Dream Ride PT 3

The second we got to the party Neela left me to go show Sean around so I just hung out with a group of girls that i'm gonna be honest I have no idea who they are.

"Hey Y/n, neel leave you already?" I turn around seeing Han smiling at me. "Heyy and yeah the second we parked she went to find him" I laugh. "betting on anything tonight, heard DK's gonna go for a lap or two"

"Maybe, I already lost a car to Sean so not sure if I'm willing to lose another this quick." I giggle at his remark knowing full well he's right, I mean Sean did destroy his car. "What about you? you don't bet very often" I really don't, part of it is because I don't have much to bet with and the other half is that I think betting is kind of.. dumb? I mean why throw your money away when you could use it on better things.. like cars. "I don't think I will, not a big fan of it"

Neela and Sean come around the corner where me and Han are sitting on the hood of the car. "Hey you two, what's up" Neela comes around and swings her around around my shoulder, "Just chitchatting where'd you two go?" I smirk looking a Neela she just gives me a smile. I assume she'll tell me later

"Alright you guys ready to watch some races?" I asked

“Let’s go.”

We’d been watching some races for at least an hour now and we were getting pretty bored. “Hey you guys wanna get a bite to eat? Or run by the convenience store? I could use something to eat” Han agreed of course i’m not surprised, Neela and Sean said sure but Twinkie said he had to catch up on some work. That meant that Han and I would be alone which rarely happens, most of the time Twinkie is with us.

“Alright we’ll meet you guys there” Neela winked at me and I just smiled, I just really hope nothing awkward would happen. I mean what could happen it’s only a 15 minute drive from here.

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Bravura

Chapter Four

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Sam, past Dean/Jo

Word Count: 3893

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, allusion to Jo and Mary's deaths, allusion to Sam's addiction issues, buried feelings, bribery in the form of pie, unbeta'd

Series Masterlist

Divider courtesy of @cafekitsune

Dean woke up with only a hint of a hangover, having stuck to beer most of the night. They had guests over after all. Which was one of those little rules he had made for himself over the past few months to keep himself in line, accountability and all that. He groaned and stretched, letting his body fan out into the empty spaces of his oversized bed. It was on mornings like that one when Dean wished he had given in to Sam and gotten them a dog. But in a few months, they’d been back on the road and that kind of life isn’t fair to anyone, let alone a pet you can’t explain your life choices to. 

So, instead of getting wake up kisses or giving out chin scratches, Dean got himself out of bed. He made his way downstairs to make some coffee. Charlie had ducked out sometime around two, leaving you alone on the couch. Which is where Dean found you still, breathing deeply with your mouth open like a hoodie-doned Anna, rat’s nest hair and all. Fuckin’ adorable.

Dean smiled to himself and quietly made a pot of coffee.

Not even an hour later and you were up, wiping the drool onto the sleeve of your sweatshirt and slogging into the kitchen, empty glass of water in your free hand which you set down next to the sink. 

“Mornin’,” you said to him, casual as ever.

Dean stayed put, no matter how much he wanted to reach out and touch you. “Mornin’. Want something to eat? There’s coffee, but not sure it’s still hot.”

“It’s coffee, it’s fine,” you insisted, grabbing a mug like you lived there and poured yourself the last of the pot. You slid into the stool next to Dean and glanced over his shoulder, lyrics and chords criss crossing his notepad as he doodled in the margins. He tried not to flinch from your curiosity.

“Just working out the kinks,” he said softly, before taking a sip from his own cup.

“I can’t imagine, there’s so much that goes into them all.” You shook your head, and added, “you’re so good at it, too.”

“Ahhh, shucks.” Dean smirked, bluffing as usual.

“At least I know you suck at video games, otherwise I’d doubt you were real.”

Always putting him in his place. He elbowed you, making you flail to stop your coffee from spilling. “That real enough for ya?”

“Ass!”

Dean chuckled and folded his notes away, dropping his pen on top of the ratty first page that held forgotten potential album titles and a phone number to a Chinese place near the studio.

He sighed, grimacing at his now empty cup. “Need a ride home? I’m gonna take a drive before Sam’s back for lunch.”

You squinted at him and Dean could tell that was too obvious.

“Well, since you’re offering—”

“Always ready and willing to be your chauffeur, Trouble, you know that.”

“I know, I just don’t want to take up the rest of your morning off.” You shrugged and then dropped your head back and rolled your shoulders, grunting from the strain. “Remind me to find a bed next time, I’m guessing you guys have those, right?”

Dean had beds to spare, but more importantly, he was picturing you crawling into his bed, specifically. Luckily, his brain was smarter than his dick. “Yeah, don’t even use the coffins anymore, totally civilized and everything.”

You giggled pointedly. Hey, it wasn’t that bad a joke.

“Okay, well, I’ll be ready to go whenever you are,” you sighed before taking a long drink, hinting he should get in gear.

Dean pushed back away from the counter, careful not to nudge you as he stood. He was always so aware of his body in relation to yours, drawn in and held back. “Okay, sure. Uh, let me grab my wallet, meet you in the garage.”

You gasped from the long pull. “Sounds good.”

He made it to the backstairs before backtracking for his notepad, not wanting to leave something like that out as temptation. You played innocent, but he could tell you had been half a second away from snooping. He gave you his best disappointed face, as you huffed, the hesitance of your smile a sure sign of embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dean teased, and made his way back upstairs.

The ride out of the canyon was perfect, sunny and mild. He put his aviators on and cranked the tunes, drumming on the steering wheel as you hummed along beside him. If Dean could pick which memories to revisit in his dreams, he hoped to have this one again soon. Not much could top moments like this, when it was just you two and Baby, good music and the open road. Even days with Sam like this were few and far between lately.

He kept looking over at you, to see if you were smiling. And you’d just roll your eyes at him and turn up the music. God, he wanted to kiss you. But he wouldn’t do that to you, wouldn’t make you into somebody who he could really hurt. Somebody he could lose. After his mom and Jo, Dean was done with losing people. 

So, as long as Sam was clean and safe, Dean had everything he needed.

Friends were enough. For everything else, he’d manage.

He pulled up to the curb in front of your house just before eleven, the old place a welcome sight. 

“Hey, everything alright? You kind of disappeared there,” you asked, turning towards him on the bench seat.

Dean closed his eyes and kicked himself for overthinking. “Uh, yeah, just sort of spaced out. The house good? Need anything fixed?”

“Um, no, I mean yes. The house is good— nothing’s broken. I’d let my landlord know if I needed help, Dean,” you said weightedly.

“Yeah, but your landlord is kind of a dick. Might as well check.”

“Well, I think he’s on top of it. Even when he’s busy writing songs and playing chauffeur.” 

Dean couldn’t help but think of how else he’d like to be on top.

“Well, you know where to find me if you put a pound of pinto beans down the disposal again.”

“I swear to god! That was one time and my parents’ disposal could have handled that. You know what, I’m going to put an entire melon rind down there later, just so you have to fix it.” You swung the door open and stood up, straightening the strap of your bag and patting the pouch of your hoodie for your phone.

“I’ll make Sam come out, he’ll fucking compost it or some shit.” Dean grinned and held up his hand in a stunted wave as you closed the door.

“Thanks, butthead!” You called over your shoulder.

“Anytime,” he said back, too quiet for you to hear. He made sure you got in through the side door, before checking his blindspot, and pulling back into traffic.

November was slipping through Dean’s fingers, but days in the studio felt like a charged eternity. A lifetime of making music, and he still couldn’t get sick of it. It was in his blood, but he and Sam had stopped trying to live their father’s dream almost ten years ago and had started making their own kind of music. He walked out of Frank’s studio just after seven o’clock that following Tuesday night, giving the band an early night to prepare for Annie’s arrival the following day. Sam was on his phone as he rounded the trunk toward the passenger seat, talking to god-only-knew.

Dean unlocked his door and reached over to let Sam in, the stretch across the bench seat a good kind of ache after his hard day. Yeah, he was definitely sitting in the hot tub after they got some grub. 

“Hey!” Dean interrupted Sam’s call. “Pick up or delivery?”

Sam gave Dean a patented bitchface. “Just get it delivered, I don’t want to sit and wait and then have to drive more.”

“Ooooookay,” Dean muttered, ignoring his pissy brother as he punched in their usual pizza order.

A grueling seventy minutes later, Dean turned the corner and pulled into their driveway. After parking in his usual spot in the garage, he curled out of the car, leaving Sam texting on his phone while Dean bee lined to his room. He then stripped down, threw on a pair of trunks and an old ACDC t-shirt just in time for the doorbell to ring with their pizza delivery.

Dean muttered to himself about good timing and took the stairs barefoot down into the kitchen. 

Sam nodded at him and set the boxes onto the island. “Hey, look who’s here.”

And as Sam turned, Dean spotted you, an apology written all over your face and a bakery box held in your hands.

“Wha— Oh! Trouble's here. Is that—? Seriously living up to your nickname aren't you?” 

“Dude!” Sam chastised him, hair flapping in disgust.

“I’m just sayin’! She shows up out of the blue and I know enough to know a pie is to butter me up for something.”

“But you still want it," you urged, tipping it side to side to tempt him.

“Of course I want it, it’s pie! Jesus.” Dean snatched the box and opened it, smelling the sweet filling over the thick haze of cheese and spices from their pizza. Remembering his manners, he added on, “we got pizza, help yourself.”

He carried the pie box over to the range and set it down, before spinning around to pull out a server from their large utensil drawer. 

“So, Y/N, you gonna spill? Hmmm? Tell me why I’m slicing into this sexy, sexy crust?” Dean looked across the island to where you had plopped yourself down and started on a slice of pizza without waiting for a plate from Sam.

You chewed and swallowed, tipping your head to the side as if considering telling them at all. “God, that’s good. Um, yeah, I mean, I need a favor, but really it’s a favor for the band, so not technically for me, but it was my idea, so I brought you a peace offering—- which you already figured out, jackass.”

Dean grinned without teeth, taking his own plate from Sam and shoveling a quarter of the Dutch Apple pie onto it.

“What is it?” Sam asked, opening a beer before handing it to Dean.

“So the label thinks we still have a lot of work to do on your image. We need to regain the fans’ trust— in Dean, specifically. So I thought we should show ‘em how you’ve mellowed out and uh, settled down a bit.”

Dean and Sam shared a look over their respective slices of pie.

“Why does that sound like you’re marrying him off?”

You cleared your throat and reached over for a drink of Sam’s beer. Dean watched your throat bob around the beverage, other hand clenched in a wadded up paper towel. 

“Well, not marrying him off.”

“Okay, cryptic. Mind spelling it out for the rest of us?” Dean’s pie was suddenly too dry and he fought the sensation with a swipe of his tongue and a sip of his own beer.

Sam turned and grabbed himself another bottle.

“Remember my friend Bela? Well, I was thinking that you guys could like Social Media date for a while, show that you’ve matured–”

Sam almost choked on his beer. Dean glared at him as he finally reached for a slice of his meat lovers' deluxe. 

“And somebody who is as wholesome and well liked as Bela could, uh, help with that.”

“You want me to parade around the city with a washed up actress to show that I’m not gonna punch any more holes into dressing room doors?” Dean shoved half a slice of pizza into his mouth to keep his tongue in check.

“Basically,” you shrugged, then you squared your shoulders and looked Dean head on. He appreciated how serious you were taking this, but it sounded like the last thing that would convince Dick or even Crowley he’d turned over a new leaf.

“What’s Bobby say about all this?” Sam’s voice broke the moment.

Something flashed in your eyes when you looked at Sam. It almost seemed like you were embarrassed about something, or maybe just holding back. “He thinks it could work. He remembered Bela’s name from when she was a regular on that old sailing show. He backed me with the suits. They want a full year tour, extra press, double shows at the cities you had to cancel last round. But! I got you full say on the next album. They take off the reins and Phantom Traveler gets to make an album completely of their own.”

Dean chewed, debating calling Bobby himself just to see if the old codger actually agreed to the dog-and-pony show. But you wouldn’t lie about something that easily verified. He felt Sam watching him and took another obscene bite of pizza, just because.

“The guys know?” Sam continued as if Dean’s social life was being decided for him.

“No—- and I think we should keep it just between us. If too many people know it’s an act, it’ll do more harm than good.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, that’s good– lie to ‘em. Sure that will be really good for band morale.”

“You don’t have to get serious about it, just some dates out in the open. See how everybody takes it.” You really wanted him to do this, and Dean couldn’t even touch on all the ways it was sitting wrong with him.

“And if all the tabloids start following us around?”

Sam huffed. “You’d play nice if somebody else’s career depended on it.”

Dean looked at you, at the sheer begging in your eyes and the tilt of your head in concession that Sam was right. Dean swore underneath his breath and dropped his pizza crust.

“She can’t be okay with this. She barely even talked to me at that housewarming you threw.”

Sam couldn’t keep his mouth shut, “that was, what? Five years ago?”

But you just rolled past the obvious. “She doesn’t tend to trust famous people, Dean. She’s been in the business since before she started kindergarten. She thinks you’re hot, if that matters. Just, please, wear, like, designer clothes and shave before you guys meet up? I promised her you knew how to clean up.”

Dean wanted to throw on the rattiest Walmart jeans he owned just to piss them all off for putting this on him. “I didn’t say I was doing anything.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Come on, Dean. You’ve dated a lot worse.”

“And a lot better,” Dean retaliated too quickly and the room fell into devastated silence. Everyone was thinking about who he meant and Dean couldn’t look you in the eye after that.

You let out a defeated sigh. “Don’t you trust me?”

All sense of appetite abandoned him. Dean felt your eyes bore into the side of his face, but he didn’t want to be the bigger person here. He was sick of always rising above, even if it was best for the band. “This isn’t about trust. I’m just not interested. Now— if you’ll excuse me. I have a real date— with my jacuzzi.”

Dean stood and marched out the French doors that led onto the pool deck. He felt Sam move behind him, no doubt doing the damage control that Dean was too wiped to muster. Why couldn’t Sam be the label’s golden boy, huh? Getting that oversized baby laid on their dime would actually be kind of cathartic. 

God, were they planning on paying your friend to date him? Was that how pathetic he was now? Dean turned on the jets and whipped his shirt over his head, muscles aching, he sank into the quickly warming water.

He closed his eyes and rested his neck against the ledge, willing the world around him to fade away. This plan would have never even hatched if he hadn’t fucked up so badly in the first place. If he hadn’t stopped giving a shit about being a musician and a decent human being and fallen in with Cain and all of his instincts- driven manipulative bullshit. If Dean hadn’t been so desperate for acceptance of his darker desires, of his rage. 

He could hear Alastair’s nasal laugh in the back of his mind and his hands instantly turned to fists beneath the water. 

No. That was not who he is. Not anymore.

He forced himself to open his eyes and stare at the handful of faint stars, lost to the lights of the city. He counted his breaths. Everything was so small, so inconsequential in the long run. What was a few dates and some hand holding? After everything he put his friends and family through the last couple of years, couldn’t he turn on the charm for some shitty paps and stupid apps?

Damnit.

He heard the doors close and your muted footsteps through the barrier of water and the thrum of the jets around him. He didn’t bother to sit up, he just closed his eyes and waited for the rest of your pitch. What he wasn’t expecting, was the gentle stroke of your fingers against the hair that clung to his forehead, or the fondness of your expression as you looked down at him where you were perched on the ledge of the tub, feet in the water and your long skirt hiked up to avoid getting soaked.

“What?” Dean didn’t mean to sound so rough, but the anger was always there, just beneath the surface, whether you deserved it or not.

“You’re thinking about him— and probably beating yourself up again. I can tell,” you said like you can read his mind. 

Dean sat up, carefully. “It’s not—- this stupid thing is my fault. Of course I’ll do it, but just let me feel like shit about it first. I mean, I need to grieve my bachelorhood here, you know what I’m sayin’?”

You shoved his face away. “Perv.”

Dean nudged your thigh with his shoulder, nearly toppling you over. Laughing, you scooted to the opposite side of the tub. Dean kicked his feet out, warning you he could still get you drenched if he wanted to. You didn’t test fate.

Dean caved. “Pam’s not gonna believe it until she sees us together, and maybe not even then. I gotta work my way up to it before we are seen together. Text me her number so I can start playing distracted.”

“Of course.”

“Sam butthurt he doesn’t get a fake girlfriend, too?” Dean asked to keep them on the surface of things.

You cocked an eyebrow and looked back at the house where Sam had disappeared somewhere. “Do you guys even talk, like, at all? He’s been talking to Madison from the animal shelter for like two months, Dean.”

“No shit?” Dean was impressed. “God, he always did like older women.”

“Nooooooo, older women like Sam. He just doesn’t have any hold ups about age gaps.” You said pointedly.

“Hey, Sammy’s a big boy, he can make his own mistakes.”

“Sure.” You sighed. “Are you really okay with this? I know how much you hate the forced persona-type of publicity.”

“I mean, I’m not thrilled with it. But—- pretending to date a hot chick isn’t really the worst case scenario, either.”

You just shook your head at him in a way that made Dean feel like he had fixed something he didn’t know was breaking. “She really is good people, okay? She’s not just a pretty face. Even if she comes off as a bit—”

“Stuck up?”

“I was going to say discerning, but yeah.”

He laughed. “Christ, Y/N, always spinning something for the positive.”

“It’s what I’m paid the big bucks for,” you threw back at him.

“Ha-ha. But seriously, if this works out, definitely figure something out with Bobby for your next contract, this could save all our bacon.”

“That’s the plan, at least. You know if we could trust people not to be assholes, I would have all the platforms knowing what a great guy you really are.”

“Yeah, people still believe what they want to believe. That’s why I need you to sell it for me. Goes down much easier with a buffer.”

“I think you mean a filter.”

“Both.” Dean rolled his shoulders before reaching over to reset the jets. “There’s suits upstairs if you want a soak, it’s mighty nice after a long day.”

“Why do you have girls swimming suits in your house? Do you just collect them or wear them in your free time?”

“A, for guests, which you are, so excuse me for offering. And two, I would look damn good in a little two piece number, so don’t knock it. But nothing and I mean nothing could make me prove it, so tough titties there.”

“A girl can dream,” you teased back, playing with the bottom hem of your partially damp skirt.

Dean winked. And you just groaned and hid your face in your hands.

“Ugh! Not fair.”

Dean chuckled, knowing his flirting wasn’t going to score him any points. “Okay, well, send me Bela’s info and I’ll keep you posted. But if we can’t convince Pam, I don’t think we’ll be able to convince the whole world, ya know?”

You nodded and inhaled through your nose. “Right. I’ll start poking to make it seem I’m being nosy too, help build your case.”

“Good thinking. Okay, get out of here, I need to rest my voice for tomorrow.”

Your head popped up. “It’s Annie day?!”

“It’s Annie day.”

You dragged your legs out of the water, shaking them off before standing on the stone tiles. “Oh, man, I can’t wait to hear this album.  It’s already gonna be my favorite, I know it.” 

Dean’s chest tightened at your words, knowing what the songs already meant to him. “We’ll see, got a couple more weeks before we’ll be totally done.”

“I can’t wait! Please, pretty please, take pictures tomorrow? I know she’s kind of a secret for now, but I want to be able to share behind the scenes shots once we announce she’ll be touring too.”

Dean twisted and rested his chin against his forearms, watching you walk back towards the house. “Done. Need a ride home?” 

“I’ll get a ride, don’t worry about me tonight. I did kind of gatecrash dinner.”

“Yeah, but you brought pie.”

“Know your audience, one of the first things they teach you in beginning marketing, man.”

“That degree was money well spent, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and let your shoulders droop. “Don’t turn into a prune. I’ll text you.”

Dean waved. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“Yes, mom.” And with that you closed the door behind yourself. Dean watched through the glass as you grabbed your phone and your bag and placed your ride request. Sam must have been watching something in the den because Dean saw as he followed you towards the front door.

Dean couldn’t help but worry after you, but as protective as he was, parental was never going to be how he saw you.

Tagging: @deans-spinster-witch@mrswhozeewhatsis@cosicas-cuquis@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like@suckitands33@ladysparkles78@deans-baby-momma@stoneyggirl2@sassy-pelican@leigh70

Chapter Five: Fermata

[crow2222]

Darry getting frostbite and the gang mildly freaking out bc every time they try to warm Darry up he just recoils in pain because it burns?

Okay I just wanna say that this has been in my drafts for a long while now,,,, I just really didn't know how to write this or even finish it off 😭

Set in Pony's pov, word count: 1,565.

"I thought we lost you like we did mom and dad." His voice rung around in my head, an endless echo that was a reflection of my worry. His whisper bouncing off non existent walls of my mind.

An arm snuck around my shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts. "He's probably just late because of the icy, Pony. They're annoying to drive on. " I look up to see Sodapop, joining my watch out the front window for Darry.

There was a random freak snow storm, a blizzard I guess. School ended early and I drove home with Steve and Twobit, on the way home we also picked up Soda from the DX.

Darry, however, was still nowhere to be seen even when it hit three o clock and the snow is furiously knocking against the closed window. We were home for around two hours now, there's no way he's still at the site with this weather.

"Yeah chill out kid, he's superman after all. If his truck got stuck he'd just fly back home!" Twobit cackled at his own unfunny joke, but it only brought me more worrisome thoughts. "He could be stuck..?" I let my forehead hit the freezing window as I longed for my eldest brother. He couldn't be stuck.. he couldn't be hurt.. could he?

Sodapop must've had it with me being upset because he turned me right around on the couch and put a cup of hot chocolate in my hands. It didn't seem that appetizing though, it was made with water instead of milk, expired chocolate mix and stale marshmallows from Halloween.

But since I didn't want to worry Soda anymore, I took the mug to my lips and started slowly sipping away at it. The gang must've accepted this as a sign I stopped dwelling on Darry so they went back to watching Christmas movies on the television that was barely working.

How could they even make out the voices and faces in the horrible static? Because I sure as hell can't!

My mind was still wrapped around what was going on with Darry until the front door slammed open with the wind, immediately bringing the cold air and snow flew freely into the house.

"Oh my god, Darry!" Sodapop yelled, quickly grabbing him into the house fully since he seemed frozen to the door frame and he then hastily shut the door.

Despite the blanket of snow sticking to him, I noticed what he had on. He had a light coat, with an even thinner hood on his head. His working boots were probably the only things that kept him slightly warm out in that dumb snow.

"H-hey guys.." His teeth chattered as he slowly took off his wet slush covered coat and hung it up. Now that I got up and got a closer look at him, he looked horrible.

His face was feverish, as white as a sheet and flushed heavily, and his lips were cracked. His hands were a unnaturally dark colour which I only saw when he took off his work gloves, which told me that they didn't do shit when it came to keeping his hands warm.

"Twobit check if there's hot water in the shower, Steve get blankets, and Ponyboy give him your hot chocolate!" Sodapop hollered orders at us as he helped Darry get his boots off since he couldn't do it by himself. His mutters were quiet but I swear something about not feeling his toes. I was really getting nervous now, seeing Darry so incapable is.. foreign. To say the least.

"So you mind telling me why the hell you were outside in the cold?" Sodapop growled at our oldest brother as he sat him down on the couch. I sat down beside Darry, interested to hear his story as well. I shrunk away a bit when I touched his cold shoulder though, not willing to lose anymore of my own heat left.

He made a show of sighing dramatically for us, but was stopped by a dry cough. I guess that's what he gets for being out in the cold for so damn long.

"The damn truck broke down, alright?" He sucked in a breath of air as he started rubbing his arms. "I didn't feel like staying in it an' freezing to death so I walked home. Happy?" He didn't bother with eye contact to us, instead he kept his eyes fixated on the floor.

He must've felt bad for snapping back like that because I started to hear something that sounded like an apology, "Guys I.."

Steve came back and threw blankets onto Darry before he got a chance to even establish his sentence. "I just took these off your bed." He then got himself comfy on the ground, he probably didn't notice how bad off Darry really was.

Sodapop's knee bopped up and down in thought, before he shot up from the armchair and ran off to the hallway. Steve raised his brow at his best friend's departure, before glancing to face us at the couch. "What's with him? Darry what-? Woah." Steve blinked, turning himself around unnaturally to take a better look at Darry.

"Holy fuck!" He covered his mouth after he realised he let the cuss slip. "Is that frostbite?" Before Darry and I got a word in, Steve quickly got up and followed Soda, leaving me alone with the freezing and confused Darry.

"Pony.." I looked up at my brother hopefully, I fully expected him to say he was fine and complain about finding his truck once the snow thaws but instead I was met with, "Can you make me coffee?" His weak smile was enough to convince me, and I couldn't help but wonder what exactly Soda and Steve both went off for.

I stood in the kitchen, brewing the coffee in a way where I could still watch Darry. He was clenching his fists over and over, I had a sneaking suspicion that he was trying to regain feeling in his fingers.

I grabbed his favourite mug for the coffee, but before I could pour it in, Sodapop grabbed Darry by the arm and they went down the hallway. Darry was stumbling behind his pull, his feet must've been frozen or something!

I waited around to hear something, but all that came was hushed whispering and quiet movement. I decided I was tired of being left out like this so I went down the hallway, realizing they were all in Darry's room.

I pressed my ear at the door, hearing water slosh around? Then a command to put his feet in somewhere..

"You want me to fucking boil Soda!?"

Darry hissed loudly, making me flinch a little. "Darry, shit.. it's lukewarm." Soda must've checked the water himself, the silence from all sides was deafening.

Darry blinked, before shaking his head. "No.. no. Just." I heard more shuffling going on, "It's just not.. please let me warm up like this?"

"I think that's what we were meant to do in the first place." Two-bit murmured, and then I heard them all head to the door I was basically leaning on.

I quickly sprinted back to the kitchen, almost slipping in the process, and poured the slightly warmed down coffee in the mug that was waiting for me.

Twobit and Steve both sat down at the couch, whilst Sodapop came into the kitchen to see what I was doing, if I were to guess.

"Is Darry going to be okay?" I knew he didn't know the answer, but I had to ask anyways. He looked at the mug for a second, as if he was hesitating to answer. "Course he will Pone." He gently roughed up my hair before going back to the guys.

I walked past them all to hand Darry his coffee, but I could tell none of them were actually watching the TV at this point. We were all too confused about the pushiness of Darry, but I do have to say that he's always pushed us away whenever he was sick or something. So it's not all that out of the ordinary.

His door was left open, so I just let myself in. His blanket was very loosely on his waist, and he was shivering like crazy. Just the sight of him made a shiver run down my spine, from the cold or worry? I wouldn't be able to tell you.

"Here's ya coffee.." I handed him the mug, which he gratefully took. He didn't even try with the effort of giving me a smile anymore.

He had the coffee up to his face, like he was about to tip it over and drink, but he didn't.

I bounced up once or twice on my feet before getting the courage to ask him, "Are you going to drink it?" He blinked, as if now realizing I was in the damn room. "Yeah, just letting it cool down first." His voice was weirdly husky, but I paid it no mind and nodded.

I stayed there for the rest of the night, managing to put on multiple socks on his feet and covering him with as many blankets as I could. Eventually he warmed up enough that he wasn't like a corpse to touch, then he fell asleep.

Yup, he's gonna wake up in a pool of sweat tomorrow.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Catching Out: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Summary: Spencer has his suspicions about your parents but you refuse to even listen to him. There is nothing going on with your parents... right? No, they’re normal parents that are just overprotective of you. Spencer is just being paranoid.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: So, I know in previous episodes I had mentioned the reader's birthday is in February, but I forgot that when I wrote this episode. I have decided to change it to April since I've also based some other episodes around her birthday being in April. So, from now on, the reader's birthday is now in April.

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

The nearest train tracks around the Modesto home are only a mile away, given it's close enough for the unsub to get off the train and watch the couple he killed for a few nights. There are freight haulers at the train station, and they are willing to talk to you, Derek, Emily, and Rossi when you arrive.

"The guy we're looking for is using freight trains to get around. He targets homes within a mile of the tracks," Derek says after he explained what's going on.

"Bulls and 'bos don't usually cross paths."

"Bulls and 'bos?"

"They call rail cops bulls. We call them 'bos, as in hobos."

"You're saying you rarely see hobos around here?" Rossi asks.

"I see them plenty. To tell you the truth, I'm nothing more than an armed scarecrow. When they see me coming, they get the hell away. Their biggest problem is with each other. If you get two of them in one boxcar, it usually gets ugly."

"So, if a 'bo jumps off one of these trains in a new town, is there someplace he goes first?"

"The jungle. That's what they call the camps. A local one's a couple of hundred yards that way," the man points to where it is.

"Do you happen to have a vending machine in here?"

"Yeah."

Rossi thinks if he has food for them, then they might be willing to tell them what they want to know. Your phone rings, and you step off to the side and answer your boyfriend.

"Where are you?" he asks.

"We're just off Highway 99. We just got done talking to the freight haulers. I think I'm going to drive back up to you and leave them down here. Though, I can tell this area is nothing but crops. There are neighborhoods on one side, and the other are all crops."

"They are farmlands. You can't see that from standard road maps."

"The railway track runs parallel to Highway 99 most of the way. I think I'm seeing a lot of what the unsub saw."

"Most of central California is one big valley. It's a flat basin surrounded by mountain ranges on all sides, supported by rivers, lakes, and aqueducts. It's ideal for farming."

"Well, I don't know what it gets us, but I think we should at least factor it into the conversation."

"I agree."

"I'll see you in about an hour." You hang up on him and approach Rossi who has a couple of candy bars in his hand. "I think I'm going to drive up to Sacramento. You two can handle it down here, right?"

"Yeah. We got it."

"I'm going to come with you," Emily says.

By the time you two get to the headquarters in Sacramento, they are ready to give the profile. Spencer told Hotch and JJ about the farmlands, so they have a better-sculpted profile to give.

"Let's get started," Hotch announces. "I'd just like to reiterate that this unsub is not getting around on Highway 99. His travels are linked near railway lines."

"He's targeted five homes and killed eight people in six weeks. We're looking for a male, indigent transient between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five. He's fit enough for the physical demands of train hopping, or 'catching out' as they call it," you inform.

"He'll be bruised from jumping on and off trains, and he might also be beaten up from just defending himself in any kind of turf war. He may look homeless, but he's taking clothing from his victims' homes. So, he'll be the only transient on the tracks in clean clothing."

"The trains and the rail yards are his home. When he gets tired of these, he chooses a house to make his own," Hotch says.

"He'll have a pronounced red, dry rash around his mouth and nose. It's what's commonly referred to as a 'sniffer's rash'."

"How do you know that?"

"He takes household cleaners and sniffs them," you explain. "We believe he's abusing them as psychoactive inhalants. He'll use nail polish remover, glue, paint thinner, lighter fluid, or whatever is the cheapest high available. They're referred to as 'tollyheads' because they derive a high from sniffing toluene, a chemical solvent. Once inhaled, the effects are felt instantaneously."

"We believe he's living out a fantasy in these homes. The fantasy is that it is his house for the night. He spends hours enjoying the comforts of his victims' homes. Upon leaving, he takes clothing, money, jewelry, and small electronics. If you get close to him, you won't miss him. He will smell like a combination of human filth and paint thinner."

"Please spread this around to the other departments in neighboring cities. Thank you."

The profile is disbanded, and you look at JJ who takes a seat tiredly. She places a hand on her stomach, and both you and Spencer walk over to her.

"Are you okay?" you ask and sit next to her.

"He's kicking a lot today," she chuckles.

"In the third trimester, there's an average of thirty fetal movements per hour. Babies kick to explore movement and strengthen muscle," Spencer explains.

"Have you ever actually felt a baby kick?" When he shakes his head, she grabs his hand and places it over the area where her son is moving. "Do you feel that?"

"Doesn't that freak you out?"

"No, not at all. Why? Does it freak you out?"

"Very much so."

"Okay, I see how it is," you nod.

Spencer looks at you with a weird expression, but you don't say anything more about it. You and JJ lock eyes, and she knows exactly what you're thinking. JJ's phone rings, and she answers it when she sees it's Penelope.

"Hey, Garica."

"Bad news alert."

"Hold on a second," you tell her. "Guys!" Hotch, the detective in charge, and Emily walk in when you call them. "Go ahead."

"Earlier, I had Garcia look into all unsolved burglary homicides in central California while paying particular attention to small farm towns."

"I found his DNA in three more cities."

"How did I miss this?" the detective sighs.

"Small towns don't always link their evidence up to state or national DNA databases. It can happen when unsubs cross jurisdictional lines."

"What are the cities, Pen?" you ask.

"Tehachapi, Vacaville, and Orange Cove. They're all farm towns, and all super far away from Highway 99."

"Thanks, Garcia. Could you look into the farm life surrounding those areas? The sales of the crops, maybe?"

"I'll hit you back when I have more."

JJ gets up and waddles over to the fan that is blasting. The air conditioner must either be out or not working well. Being pregnant is hard enough, so you want to make this as easy as possible for her. You grab some cold water and a damp cloth and approach her with a smile.

"Here. It looks like you need it."

"Thank you."

She takes the water and gulps half of it down before placing the cloth on her forehead. You kneel next to her chair and look at her stomach with a smile.

"May I?"

"Of course."

You place your hand on her stomach, and she moves it to the spot where her son is kicking. Your eyes light up at the feeling.

"I'm not going to lie. I kind of miss this. It was different before, of course, but when I felt my daughter kick for the first time... It didn't matter how old I was or what happened. At that moment, I felt pure joy."

"How is she doing?"

"She calls and texts me, but she has her own life. She knows I'm here if she ever needs me though. With your baby, though, I am going to be the best aunt ever. I'm going to spoil the shit out of him." You realize your mistake and smile shyly. "Sorry. I don't mean to cuss around him."

"Would you consider having babies with Spencer?"

You look behind you at Spencer and Emily, and you can't help the smile from forming on your face.

"In a heartbeat," you say truthfully. "I'd be very lucky to have his kids, and they'd be lucky to have Spencer as a dad. I can picture it now. He'd play chess with them, but our baby girl would want to play with her dolls instead. He'd read them bedtime stories and dance with them to the music on an old radio. He'd perform magic for them because they'd laugh and he'd never want to stop making them laugh."

"You're happy."

"I am. He makes me feel like I'm the only woman in the world. It's why this is so hard with my parents. My dad doesn't like him, and it hurts me. I know he'll come around eventually, but I just wish he'd get there sooner."

"It'll be alright. I know it."

Spencer looks behind him at you and JJ in thought. Emily sees the look he's giving you, so she nudges him.

"Are you considering it?"

"Considering what?"

"Having baby geniuses one day?" she smiles.

"With Y/N? In a heartbeat," he says truthfully. You two have been together for over two and a half years. He's not ready to be a dad, but he knows that one day, he'd love to have some with you. "I'd be very lucky to have kids with her one day."

Penelope calls Spencer back, and he calls in you, JJ, Hotch, and the detective.

"I've noticed in the cities, including the new ones we've discovered that there's a spike in the sales of certain crops during the time the unsub is there. In the last week of August, the apples in Tehachapi spiked. In the first week of September, the tomatoes in Bakersfield rose. In the second week of September, the fall squashes in Fresno were high."

"He's in town whenever there is a big harvest. If this unsub is riding trains from town to town during big harvests who doesn't have a car or permanent residence, then we're looking at a migrant farm worker."

There is news of another murder close to where you are, so you quickly head over there. The murder is still fresh, so the victims are still lying on the ground in their bedroom. You can't look at the victims without seeing the unsub beating them over and over again.

"He left a shirt on his male victim again," Hotch says.

"That's not all he left." Spencer holds up the newspaper that was printed a couple of days ago. The headline reads 'Modesto Couple Victims of Highway 99 Killer'. "This was printed before we released to the press he's using trains to get around."

"He's taunting us, telling us he's smarter than we are because we got his mode of transportation wrong. The more confident he gets, the more he's experimenting with his ritual."

"The first few murders were five to eight days apart. This one was just one day since Modesto. If we don't find him soon, he's killing another couple tonight."

"Okay, this couple is Hispanic. The previous couples were Caucasian. He switched his victim profile," you say.

"I don't think he knows or cares what race they were. I think this house was just an easy target."

Spencer's phone rings, and he places them on speakerphone.

"Yeah?"

"So, we got something," JJ says from the office. "The jewelry stolen from the home in Sacramento turned up at a pawn shop in Modesto. Garcia just sent you a picture from the security cam. The employee said he was about 5'8", slight build, late thirties, and has dark skin with a red rash around his mouth."

"Circulate the picture, JJ," Hotch says.

"I'm already on it."

x

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[obwjam]

ok but hear me out- loved the killmonger one shot you just posted. What if you continue it and have a Giant Everett Ross save them 👀

honestly shocked with myself because i banged this out in like two hours during my downtime at work lol please enjoy

If it felt like days had passed before somebody came back to you, that’s because it was.

You had no choice but to assume that Killmonger had completely forgotten about you. Thankfully, you were used to going this long without food and water. It was the restriction of your freedom that was driving you crazy.

No matter how many times you slammed your body against the seemingly invisible wall, it refused to budge. The only thing it accomplished was making you sore and tired.

So when you finally heard the sounds of real human voices coming from the other side of the door, you weren’t sure if that made you excited or terrified. At the very least, it meant you didn’t have to be stuck in some high-tech cube anymore.

Everett Ross silently cursed to himself. He had let Killmonger get away again. It was like someone had told him he was coming, so he got the hell out of Wakanda as fast as he could. Ross was running out of places to look, and T’Challa and Shuri were running out of patience.

This was one of the last places he and his team were looking before officially throwing in the towel. Gun in hand, he motioned for a few agents to back him up as he kicked the door in. His eyes darted around the room, which was mostly empty, save for a few chairs, a table, and… a tiny person sitting inside a cage.

Wait. 

A tiny person sitting inside a cage.

Ross blinked a few times before turning his head around to the other agents in the room. “Go, I’ve got this one secure,” he said sternly. The agents nodded, not even noticing what – or who – was on the table as they left.

Slowly, he brought his gun down, not wanting to intimidate you any more than he already had. You had no idea what was going on, or who this guy is, but you knew it couldn’t be good.

Ross walked right up to the end of the table and bent down to meet you at your current height. He had seen a lot of things – more things than most people on the planet, he liked to think – but even this was new for him. The thing that struck him was that everything about you was remarkably human-like… you just happened to be four inches tall.

You stared back at him in equal parts curiosity and horror. As desperate as you were to get out of here, you didn’t know just how far you were willing to go. How could you possibly trust another person after this? You were hoping he would just let you go and figure your own way out of this.

“Wow. Um…” Ross was at a loss for words. “Hi. I’m, uh, I’m Everett Ross – Agent Everett Ross, with the CIA. I – um… who… why are you in here?”

You were surprised that this giant almost seemed… nervous. Huh. Maybe he could help you after all.

“Please… please let me out,” you squeaked, surprised you were even able to form words. “Please let me out of here.”

“Okay, okay,” Ross said, his voice dripping with sorrow at your terrified state. “How… how does this thing work, exactly?”

You shrugged. He didn’t actually expect you to know that, did he?

Ross chuckled when he noticed your confused expression. “Yeah, stupid question, huh? It’s just, I’m not so good with this Wakandan technology myself…” he trailed off as he waved his hands aimlessly around the invisible barrier, the electricity shimmering every time they passed by. “Man, they really made this stuff difficult to figure out, didn’t they?”

Despite the logistics, you flinched each time his hand passed over you, and Ross noticed.

“Let’s, uh, let’s take a pause on that,” he finally sighed. To your disdain, he reached back and dragged a chair over. “Now, I never asked you your name.”

All you could do was stare.The last thing you wanted to do was give up your name. It was all you had left.

“Yeah, okay, I understand,” he said quietly. It was beginning to dawn on him just how freaked out you were, and how warily you eyed his each and every movement. “This is all pretty scary, huh? Giant city, giant person…”

“...is he coming back?” you let slip. You immediately pursed your lips, as if that would take back the words you said. God, that’s embarrassing.

“What?” Ross questions. “Who? Is who coming back?”

There was something about this Everett Ross that was almost��� comforting. The way he looked at you with raised eyebrows, sad eyes and a slightly open mouth gave him a soft expression that signaled compassion.

“Killmonger,” you offered, barely a whisper, but Ross heard, and his blood began to boil.

“Did you say Killmonger? As in Erik Killmonger?” You nodded. “Oh, god damn it! What did he do to you?” You flinched as his tone shifted into anger. “He didn’t hurt you, did he? I swear, when I catch that son of a bitch–”

He was cut off by you shaking your head. “He… he put me in this thing. I…” You didn’t really want to relive it, but Ross wouldn’t take his eyes off of you. “I snuck into his pocket, b-back in England. And now I’m…  here.” You looked around, still not quite clear where here was.

“Woah woah woah. You’re all the way from England?”

You nodded sheepishly. Was that a bad thing?

“Christ, kid,” he tutted under his breath. “How the hell did you end up here?” To his relief, your tremors had subdued slightly, but you still had that deer-in-headlights look that just wasn’t going to work if Ross was going to save you, scoop you up and protect you from everything and everyone.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

A pause. “I dunno. A few days ago?”

“Days? Jeez, we really need to get you out of there. You’re probably starving.”

“It’s nothing new,” you muttered. To your surprise, he heard you. 

“We can unpack that later,” he quipped. He resumed his frantic hand waving, and it was useless until you remembered something.

“Um…” You clammed up when he looked at you with those big, expectant eyes again. “I think I remember him going like this.” Ross could barely keep it together as you lifted up an impossibly tiny hand to show him a very specific gesture that he was most definitely not doing. “Try that?”

Wordlessly, he lifted his hand up and repeated your gesture, and to both of your delights, the forcefield twinkled away. Ross stuck his finger through just to make sure it had really gone.

“Alright, buddy, it’s safe for you now,” he smiled. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You took cautious steps as if you were navigating a minefield, pausing when you reached the former site of the barrier. You closed your eyes, sucked in a breath and took a stride forward.

You were free.

“There we go,” Ross cooed from far above you. He was almost afraid to make his next move, but he needed to get you out of here and report back to T’Challa. “You’re probably not gonna like this, but…”

Your heart skipped a beat as his hand, now palm-up, landed right next to you. You gaped up at the human, finally able to get a good look at him without the forcefield distorting your view. Everything about this guy screamed seasoned veteran… yet you couldn’t help but feel the sincerity in his eyes the longer you stared into them. There were no smirks, no scoffs, no degrading nicknames… he truly wanted to help. And you really needed it.

To Ross’ surprise, you didn’t really hesitate to amble onto his palm. His muscles twitched at the small impact, but he soon got over the feeling as you settled into the middle of his hand.

“Okay, this is weird,” he mumbled as he began to stand up. “Hold on there, buddy, I’m gonna start moving now.”

Ross felt his heart flutter as your tiny palms pressed into his. You felt yourself blush, knowing full well his gaze was fixated on you as he began to move.

“Where… where are we going?” you dared to ask.

“Good question, kid,” he said, voice full of affection. “First, I have to tell the prince and princess that Killmonger was in England before coming back here. They might be able to retrace some of his steps.” Your stomach churned at the idea of meeting new people, but Ross didn’t seem to realize. “Then… we gotta get you someplace safe.” 

He paused, almost embarrassed to ask his next question. “Are you alright sticking with me for a while? Be–before we find you a new home, that is,” he stumbled.

It was your turn to chuckle. “I– I think I’m alright with that.”

“Good, good.” Ross pushed the door open, tucking you near his chest to keep you shielded. “Maybe now you can tell me your name?”

For the first time in a long time, you smiled. Yeah, you supposed you could tell him your name.

[prince-simon]

Hi I was reading one of your fanfics and I came across this bit "he felt trapped, and scared, and was reminded of the times this would happen to him as a child, touch starved but scared to be touched" and I have never related to anything more. Do you know what that is? I'm sorry I'm only asking because I hope you know more about it than i do as you included it. Is it normal? Sorry for bugging you, it's ok if you don't know. Also your fanfics are AMAZING and have brought me a LOT of comfort

hi friend! first of all, i totally had to go through my recent fics to figure out which one you're referring to hahaha

but okay. story time! (disclaimer: the story sounds very scary in the beginning, and i'd be lying if i said it was comfortable but i decided to tell the whole story to hopefully give you some comfort? so. content warning for a bit of medical talk and medical conditions and mental health stuff under the cut)

so this whole thing about wille's legs/body spasming when touched (unexpectedly) is actually taken from personal experience. i haven't always had it, not that i know of at least, but there was a point when i was maybe. 16? maybe a bit younger? where i got slight tremors in my legs and over one or two weeks it just got more intense so my parents set up an appointment with our family doctor who referred me to a neurologist where i got a brain scan and everything. bc i - and my parents - went to the worst case scenario which to me was like wondering if this was some form of parkinson's disease i was developing (the thing i remember most about this is that we waited in the neurologist's waiting room for four hours even though we had an appointment only to be in the actual office with the doctor for like. 5 minutes) my brain scans came back fine and i guess i was too young to fully pay attention or understand what the doctor was saying but he's a doctor so he went with the natural solution of prescribing me meds. i ended up taking beta blockers for idk how long which worked for a bit to suppress the symptoms before the tremors came back. the doctor upped the dosage and again. it worked for a bit but i and my parents were like. am i gonna have to take these for the rest of my life? what's going on? i didn't wanna do this so my mum suggested going more of a natural route so we tried homeopathy. that guy slowly weaned me off the meds and instead gave me a bit of therapy which. lo and behold. helped. again. for a bit. at least i didn't have the tremors frequently anymore

in hindsight, i now know that it's very likely a symptom of anxiety and overstimulation in moments where my whole body just gets overwhelmed - i've had social situations in which i had just socialised so much and was also just really tired where a close friend would touch me and i'd just start spasming and just generally when i'm in stressful situations it can happen. sometimes it happens when i'm driving and something unexpected happens which is a fucking grim time bc i kinda need my legs for driving lol

so uh yeah. this was a lot of rambling i'm sorry. but tldr; for me personally those tremors are anxiety related

i hope this helped! you're also always welcome to slide into my dm's if you wanna talk more about this/your own experiences

either way i'm glad my stories bring you comfort!

[banannabethchase]

Set the World Alight: Chapter 14 - also on AO3

~

It's time for the cheerleader's Spring Show, and Nick is less excited for the routines and more so excited for the sitting near Adam.

~

Warning: Obscure, quick reference to the ending of the (somehow) children's novel Stone Fox, which is weirdly popular to teach with old white women and also super racist. Spoilers for Stone Fox, if anyone cares, but the concern in question is that dog dies in a rather sad way at the end of the race. Skip the line "Adam throws his head back, cackling" if you'd like to skip over that detail.

~

Saturday, March 15th

Nick

“Go away.”

“You don’t have to come.”

Nick opens an eye to see Matt, already wide awake and chipper, standing over his bed. “Oh, god.”

“Do you still want to come?” Matt asks. She looks hesitant. Damn it.

“Yes, I still want to go,” Nick says. He’s not sure he won’t regret this a few hours from now, after two hours in the car and six hours of cheer and dance competitions waiting for Matt’s team.

“Okay because, like, I gave you some extra time to sleep, because I know you’re tired, but we have to leave in fifteen minutes to get there in time.”

Nick groans, flopping back on his pillow. “How are you both considerate and the worst at the same time?”

Matt shrugs. “It’s a gift. Come on, Nicky.”

Nick drags himself out of bed, thankful he showered the night before, and is grabbing a Monster from the fridge by the time Matt is dancing uncomfortably in the doorway.

“Are you ready?”

“Oh, my god, calm down,” Nick says. “You’re not gonna miss the bus.”

“I could!” Matt says. Now she’s pouting. Great. “It’s my last ever Spring Show competition, Nicky.”

He nods, yawning. “I’m good. Let’s go.”

Matt doesn’t stop talking the whole drive there, gesturing wildly with the hand not on the steering wheel the entire time. “And then, if I twist my ankle again, I could cost the whole team!”

It’s somehow giving Nick driving anxiety when he’s not even behind the wheel. It feels unfair.

“I think you’re going to be okay, Matt,” Nick says, gripping the ledge on the door with the force of a thousand vices. “That rough ankle landing was just a fluke. It’ll be totally fine today.”

Matt nods, pulling into the school parking lot. “Okay. Yeah. I’m gonna be okay.” She exhales. “Do I look okay?”

“I – what? Yes. Calm down.”

“I am calm.” Matt pulls into a parking spot as crooked as humanly possible.

Nick’s quite for a second, willing himself not to be that guy.

“I’m going to straighten out.”

“I think that’s a good idea.”

~

Nick is forced to stand next to Adam while Matt and Mox, and Britt and Jamie, for that matter, make out while the rest of the team make their way onto the bus.

“This feels unfair,” Adam says, sighing. “When is it gonna end?”

“Hopefully soon,” Nick mutters. He tries not to think about how close he is to Adam. How easy it would be for him to turn and kiss him, too. “Was I this bad with Jude?”

Adam laughs. Nick – Nick doesn’t quite miss the way that Adam’s face goes a little pink at that. “Not really. But it was miserable for different reasons.” He glances over at Nick, like he’s trying to say something else.

“Yeah,” Nick says, sighing. He folds his arms over his chest, suddenly very lonely. “Yeah, he. He, um.” He does the only thing he can think of to make the moment less awful. He makes a fart noise.

Adam throws his head back, cackling. “Remember when we got to the end of Stone Fox in third grade and you just, like, got so overwhelmed you ripped a loud one? Right as the dog’s heart exploded?”

Nick groans. “Would you stop bringing that up every time you hear somebody fart?”

“I feel like this is on you, at least this time.” Adam bumps his shoulder.

Eventually, the couples dislodge from each other’s faces, and Mox and Jamie turn back to Nick and Adam

“You have glitter all over your faces,” Nick says.

Jamie and Mox both reach up to brush their faces off.

Adam volunteers to drive, which Nick doesn’t want to admit gives him immeasurable relief, and they pile into his truck like it’s a clown car.

“Do I gotta sit back here?” Mox asks, frowning as his leg does, actually, get stuck in by the door. “I don’t fit.”

“Come on, Nicky, get behind Adam,” Jamie says, grabbing Nick by the collar of his jacket and pulling him back. “You can sit in the backseat with me.”

Nick goes along with it, because arguing with Jamie seems like a terrible idea, and slides into the seat behind Adam.

“Sorry it’s messy,” Adam mumbles. It’s not, Nick thinks. At least, not as messy as he’s seen it before. “We just got a hay delivery and that shit gets everywhere.”

“Nah, you’re good, man,” Mox says, making himself comfortable. “Matt left a pair of underwear in my car the other day and my mom opened the door and they fell out, so it can’t be worse than that.”

The truck goes silent.

“I mean,” Mox says, frozen, “a pair of…sunglasses?”

“I would love it,” Nick says, as carefully as possible, “if you would never say anything like that around me ever again.”

“What?” Jamie asks, and, oh no, Nick knows that smile. Nick is afraid of that smile. “You don’t want to think about how Mox rails your sister in his truck?”

“I don’t rail – we haven’t – they were extras!” Mox yells. “We haven’t even - not -"

“Please stop,” Adam says, sounding a little hysterical. “That is not a mental image I want of my best friend." He clears his throat. "Well, not Matt, at least."

“What?” Mox asks, unfreezing to give Adam a befuddled look.

“This is me, not talking anymore,” Adam says. “Here. I have a Spotify playlist. Mock me for my music tastes.”

The first song that comes out is some country song that starts off with a familiar Adam twang, which Nick is half able to process through the blue screen and static his brain is going through, but then the lyrics are…strange.

“Did – did he just sing the line, ‘dicked down in Dallas’?” Jamie asks, leaning forward.

“Put on a damned seat belt,” Adam snaps. “But, yes.”

“Cowboy, what the fuck is this?” Mox asks. “And why is it so catchy?”

They’re all singing along with the chorus by the time they restart the song, Jamie putting on the kind of country accent even a toddler would clock as bad.

The first half hour is the four of them arguing over the lyrics and Nick insisting on arm dance moves to represent all of the various sex acts, and, by the time they take the exit, they’ve developed a list of all the places and ways to fuck in the capitals of nearly all 50 states.”

“What about Concord?” Mox asks. “What do we have left?”

Nick scrolls his notes app. “Comeshots in Concord?”

Jamie does a little chef’s kiss. “I think that’s fair, since we gave cunnilingus to Carson City.” She gets an almost wistful look. "I should go there with Britt."

“Comeshots is probably all there is to do up in New Hampshire,” Mox muses. “What do they have up there? Trees? Maple syrup?”

“Apparently a decent skiing scene,” Nick says, scrolling the article. “They have polar caves.”

“We are going to a cheerleading competition, not New Hampshire,” Adam says. “But polar caves seem kind of cool.” He slows to a stop. “Oh, fuck. Detour.”

Nick’s ready to feel anxious, to get that back seat of a car where the driver is in distress anxiety that always hits when Matt’s got to drive through a construction zone. But that’s not what happens.

Adam, with the assistance of Mox on the GPS, expertly navigates the car through the construction zone, the two of them chatting like they’ve always had a relationship like this.

“If you finally ask out Adam, they can be brothers in law,” Jamie whispers into Nick’s ear.

He pokes her in the arm. “No! Shut up!”

“I’m just saying!”

Mox turns around. “Do I need to come back there, you two?”

“You’re not my dad,” Jamie says, sticking her tongue out.

Mox rolls his eyes.

Adam navigates them seamlessly to the giant high school outdoor arena where the competition will be held, the place already filled.

“So much for parking,” Adam says, pulling into a space that’s at least a quarter mile away from the stadium. “Jesus, are you two dating, like Olympians or something?”

“May as well be, with the way Matt can –”

“Stop it!” Nick half shrieks. “No! No more of that!”

“Sorry,” Mox says, grinning. “It’ll never happen again.”

“I don’t even a little bit believe you.”

Nick’s glad he wore his broken in sneakers for this, because it feels like they’ve walked five miles with the amount of times they’d had to double back to find the place where the team is set to get ready.

“Jamie, go see if you can get in there,” Mox says. “You’re a girl. They’ll let you in.”

Jamie scoffs. “Really? Just because I’m a girl, they’ll let me in to the cheerleading room?”

“Well, yeah,” Adam says. “It says women’s locker room. I don’t think he’s being sexist here.”

Jamie looks closer. “Oh! Right. Maybe I can add another locker room to my list with Britt.”

“Why do I always have to hear these things,” Nick half whines. “Adam, make them stop with the sex jokes.”

“This is getting you back for that time you told me all the gory details of touching Candice’s boobs for the first time.” Adam looks annoyingly smug. “Now you know how I felt.”

“Okay, you’re gay, not her brother,” Nick grumbles. “Boobs aren’t that scary.”

“They’re great,” Jamie says. “Hopefully about to feel my two favorite boobs up. I’ll send Matt out if I see her.”

Jamie swaggers into the room like she owns the entire building, and Nick sighs.

“Think she knows she could take over the world and most people would thank her for it?” Adam asks. “She’s somehow both cool and terrifying.”

“I’d vote for her,” Mox says. “But probably as dictator.”

“You don’t vote for a dictator, idiot,” Nick laughs.

“That’s how good she is,” Mox says, unfazed. “I’d vote for her. As an all-powerful overlord.”

They discuss the merits of different all-powerful overlords in media while they wait, and Matt skips out a few minutes later.

“Hey!” she says, half diving into Mox’s waiting arms. “Hi. You needed me?”

“Just wanted to wish you good luck, baby,” Mox says, kissing the top of her head. “Ew, what the hell. Your hair chemicals are stinging my lips.”

“It’s the gel,” Matt says, and, when she knocks on her hair, Nick swears he hears it clunking. “They take off points if our hair is out of place or isn’t matching the others with the style, so we just plaster on hair gel and pray to the cheerleading gods that it stays.”

“That sounds terrible,” Adam says. His hand goes to his hair patting the little bun he always ties it into. “I can barely handle this.”

“Well, that’s why you’re a farmer and not a cheerleader,” Matt says. She twirls the end of her ponytail around her finger, then freezes. “I gotta stop doing that.”

“You’re fine, Matty,” Mox says, kissing her on the forehead. “Your hair looks great, you’re gonna do great, it’s gonna be great.”

She lights up. “Hey! I’m a good luck kiss for all of you.” She pats her cheek. “Good luck kisses. Come on, boys. Watch the makeup.”

“Do I have to?”

Matt glares at him, hands on her hips. “Yes, Nicky, you do. Come on.”

Mox kisses her cheek then her lips with a lot more enthusiasm than Nick would ever want to see, then Adam presses a gentle little press to her cheek.

She stomps in front of Nick. “Come on.”

“This is not an attitude I generally experience from people asking for a kiss,” Nick mumbles.

She clears her throat. “Nicholas.”

“Jeez, fine.” He leans in and kisses her cheek. “Good luck or whatever.”

“Thanks!”

Matt squeezes Mox’s hand and then makes her way back to the locker room.

“She’s going to do that before every competition from now on, isn’t she?” Adam asks, rubbing at his lips. “What is that on her face?”

“Foundation,” Mox says. “You’re lucky you’ve only gotten it on your face.”

“No kidding,” Jamie adds.

Nick whimpers. “Please. How many times. Please stop.”

Mox gives Nick the weirdest smile. “I was, uh. I was talking about getting foundation on my shirts.”

“I wish I could believe you.”

They make their way up to the bleachers, a spot in the middle open for the four of them to squeeze, and Nick finds himself squished in between Jamie on one side and Adam on the other.

Jamie wiggles her eyebrows at him.

“Shut up.”

“Hmm?” Adam asks, turning to Nick.

“Nothing,” Nick says. “I – nothing.”

Nick thinks the four of them should be given Most Supportive Person awards for the amount of cheer and dance performances they watch that have nothing to do with the people they’re here for. There’s one particularly good little girl in a coral pink costume who does a weird jump into a flip thing that reminds Nick of Matt, but, other than that, there’s not much else that sticks out to him.

“When does this end?” Mox asks. He’s been fidgeting for the past hour, but now he’s slumped over, legs sticking so far out they’re sliding behind the bleachers in front of him. “My ass is sore.”

Adam snickers.

“No,” Nick says, shaking his finger. “Not you, too.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Adam says, hands up in front of him. “Though it is kind of funny how annoyed you get.”

“That one wasn’t a joke, either,” Mox says. Now he’s sitting sort of sideways up on his hip while Jamie stares at him. “Jesus, these benches suck. Adam, how do you put up with this?”

Adam shrugs. “I think I’ve built up an immunity over the years of going to all of your home games.” He pats his hip. “Ass of steel, all that.”

“Okay, that one was on purpose,” Nick says.

Adam blinks. “Huh?”

“Ass of steel?”

Adam fights a grin, and Nick suddenly feels a little too warm. “Nick, we’re talking about sitting on metal benches or hours on end. What are you talking about?”

Nick blushes red and folds his arms over his chest, and tries to conceal the semi he has from imagining Adam’s ass.

~

“Finally!” Jamie says, perking up from where she’d been scrolling some music website on her phone.

“I recognize that music,” Mox says. “It’s them. Jesus. Took for fucking ever.”

They all lean forward as the team makes their way onto the court, shaking their pom poms and jumping onto the court on their toes. Nick watches Matt the whole time, even though it’s about the team as a group. Through all the gymnastics, dance, and cheer competitions over the years, he’s never been good at sitting back and seeing everyone as a group. He always watches Matt.

The routine is fast paced, hyperactive, and enthusiastic to a degree Nick’s not sure he’s ever seen before. The seniors get an entire spotlight section, as Matt had called it, where Matt, Britt, Athena, and the other seniors absolutely shine.

“Damn,” Adam mutters. “So that’s why they picked the three of them for captains.”

Athena and Matt lift Britt into this weird thing where she leaps and spins, and the rest of the team moves back in to make an even bigger tower of high school girls, Riho and Velvet at the top.

They scream the name of their high school, the girls at the top of the towers spinning and flipping down the floor, and then they strike their ending pose.

The entire room explodes into cheers, even from people who don’t seem to be affiliated with the team, and Nick and his three friends leap to their feet. Matt scans the room until her eyes land on them and she waves, yanking Britt and Willow to see them. They all wave.

“That’s my girl!” Mox shouts into the crowd, voice louder than Nick’s ever heard it.

“Dude, are you crying?” Jamie asks.

“Shut up,” Mox mumbles, scrubbing at his face with his hand. “She’s worked really hard.”

“Sap,” Nick says. But, and he’d never admit this, he is a bit jealous of that level of devotion.

They sit through three more performances, during which Nick’s pretty sure his ass goes completely numb, until it’s the break before they rank all the teams.

“I need food,” Adam says. Like it was timed, his stomach growls. “See? I’m a hungry boy.”

“I think I saw hot dogs or something,” Mox says, as they slowly make their way through the busy crowd. Far too many people stop in the middle of the hallway, and Nick’s getting anxious about it. Before he can say anything, though, Adam grabs his hand.

“I got you,” Adam says, little smile on his lips. “Too many people, right?”

All Nick can do is nod.

“For me, too,” Adam adds. A little louder, he says, “Can we find someplace outside to eat? There’s too many people in here.”

“Yeah, text me where you guys end up,” Mox says. “Me and Jamie are going to find the girls first.”

Adam and Nick stay close together as they get in line, as they order, as their wait for their concession meals. They make their way out to a little grassy area in the sun, a spot that looks dry enough for March, and they spread out their jackets as makeshift blankets on the ground.

“How much time we got?” Adam asks, squeezing a ketchup packet onto his hot dog.

“Maybe an hour?” Nick says. “Judges usually argue with each other for a while for these things, so it might even be longer.”

Adam nods. “Cool. Might take a nap or something.”

“How do you and Matt do it?” Nick asks. “You guys fall asleep so frickin’ fast, anywhere.”

Adam shrug, diving in for a giant bite of his hot dog. “For me it’s farm conditioning. Gotta get to sleep fast so I can wake up at ass crack o clock to check on the animals.”

Nick laughs and a glob of mustard drops off of his hot dog.

“You got a – I got it.” Adam leans in and brushes it off the side of Nick’s face with his thumb, eye contact the whole time.

Nick’s heart begins to race. “Thanks,” he says, voice quiet.

“Anything.” It sounds more like a promise than Nick wants to think, sounds like it means something. He wants to say it. He wants to tell him.

“Did you know Matt doesn’t think hand stuff counts as sex?”

Adam half inhales his bite of hot dog and has to cough for a minute before he gets his breathing back in order. “What – what does that have to do with anything?!”

“I don’t know,” Nick says. “I just – the hot dog, and we’re at Matt’s competition, and what Mox said earlier in the car about Matt’s underpants.” Nick feels like his entire brain just short circuited again. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying at this point, just that his mouth keeps going and won’t stop. “It’s weird, right? She’s so weird.”

“I think this entire conversation is weird,” Adam says, but he’s smiling, so maybe Nick hasn’t entirely fucked up. Not yet, at least. “She really thinks that?”

“It’s because of all that Cody bullshit last year,” Nick says, rolling his eyes. “He told her that it didn’t count unless there was, like.” Nick wrinkles his nose. “Well, you know. She's trying to be better about it, but she slips.”

“I can’t believe I introduced them,” Adam grumbles, glaring at the hot dog. “Biggest mistake of my life. He was horrible to Matt.”

Nick sighs. “I feel like we don’t even know how miserable it was, you know? Matt never told me. But I think, mostly, he was just wrong and weirdly straight man for a dude dating, well, what he thought was another guy.” Nick pauses. “You know?”

Adam nods, taking a careful bite of his hot dog this time, like he’s prepared for Nick to say another stupid thing. “She’s so weird about things, sometimes,” he says thoughtfully. “Gets ideas in her head, you know?”

“Oh definitely,” Nick says. “She almost believed that AJ kid a few years ago when he tried to convince people the earth was flat.”

“Aw,” Adam says, frowning. “Poor thing.”

Nick laughs. “I know. She said she was just messing with him, but, sometimes, I think she gets so sucked in she can’t really see the forest through the trees, you know?”

They go on about Matt stories, which devolves into stories of the three of them and Kenny back when they were kids, before Kenny got so caught up in Mock Trial club and became a tiny version of a senator.

“Hold up, that’s me,” Nick says, fumbling for his phone. “Yeah?”

“Hey, where are the two of you?” Jamie asks. “They said we’re ten minutes out from the award ceremony. Don’t want the two of you to be without a seat, yeah?”

“Right,” Nick says. “Be in there soon.”

Nick relays the message to Adam and they clean up their impromptu picnic.

They get to the bleachers and have to scoot past more than a few people before they make it to Mox and Jamie, who had spread out to almost comical degrees to save enough space.

“Jesus, finally,” Jamie says, sliding her legs back to normal. “No one has ever manspread as much as me in this moment.”

Mox shuffles over to make more room, and Nick sits on his other side. Adam sits right next to him again, their thighs pressing together.

Nick turns to Mox. “Do you – is that a lipstick stain?”

Mox yanks out the collar of his shirt. “Oh. Look at that.”

Nick sighs. “I don’t know why I asked.”

They wait, half holding their breath, for the teams in the top five for each category to be called.

“We welcome Mr. Justin Roberts to the floor to make the announcements for the top five in each category,” says the little brunette lady at the end of the table.

There’s some basic clapping, with a few middle aged moms clapping a little more enthusiastically than Nick thinks is necessary.

“Thank you, Dasha,” Mr. Roberts says. “I’m honored to announce some of the greatest cheer and dance competitors in our state.”

When Nick hears the name of his high school called, he leaps to his feet so fast Adam has to catch him by the arm to make sure he doesn’t fall over.

“Top five!” Mox yells.

“They haven’t won yet, boys, don’t get too excited,” Jamie says, patting Adam on the shoulder. “We need to wait to see how they rank.”

They do the solo awards first, then the kid’s group awards, and the senior cheer teams are the last group to be called up. Nick thinks he can hear his mom’s voice screaming from somewhere in the crowd. He only hopes she managed to get there before Matt went on.

“In fifth place for the senior group cheer,” the announcer says, “we congratulate West Walton High School!”

Said high school gets some cheers, but they look disappointed enough that it makes Nick just the tiniest bit sad for them.

“In fourth place,” the announcer continues, “Thomas N. Archer High School!”

More cheers. Adam fumbles for and grabs Nick’s hand.

“I have never cared so much about Matt’s stupid pom poms as I do right now,” he says, lips right by Nick’s ear. Nick shivers.

“Me either,” he says. “Looks like all those late nights flipping and cheering her on really paid off.”

“In third place,” continues the announcer, one the fourth and fifth place schools shuffle off the court, “is Newton J. Peters High School!”

“Holy shit,” Jamie says. “They’re at least second. Oh my god!”

“The winner of the senior group cheer category, and the champions for this season,” the announcer says, and Nick could swear the guy is dragging it out for the drama of it all, ��by a total of one point are Robert Orville High School!”

Nick deflates immediately, but claps as kindly as he can.

“Our second place finishes are the phenomenal Arthur E. Williams High School, who, again, only missed first place by a single point.”

Matt, Athena, and Britt look plenty excited, which makes Nick feel a little better, at least. All the high schools celebrate together.

“Is it weird that I think I’m more upset about them losing than the girls?” Adam says, leaning in. “It feels weird.”

“No, I get it,” Nick says, and he’s so close to Adam he might not be able to breathe. “Kinda hard to see someone you love get that close to what they want.”

Adam turns to Nick. “Yeah?”

Nick’s entire body tenses. “I – yeah.”

He doesn’t know what would have happened next.

“Come on, move!” Jamie says, pushing at their shoulders. “We want to get out of here before we get stuck in traffic.”

Nick nods, and almost goes up in flames as Adam puts his hands on his hips to steer him toward the door, like he knows Nick would be overwhelmed without him.

Nick’s in deep.

After a fight for the front seat that Nick wins with Jamies help, they rewrite lyrics in the car ride home, dirty as possible. After the coaches cheer the leaders on, they all get dinner to celebrate.  Adam never leaves his side. And Nick thinks he never wants him to.

~

Dicked Down in Dallas is a true musical adventure and I encourage you all to explore the song and its lyrics. If I were braver I'd do karaoke to this song. I take all responsibility for the New Hampshire slander. All there is to do up there is go to Massachusetts or make irresponsible substance decisions. But also skiing, polar caves, and pretty leaves. But there's a reason I moved 2,000 miles away years ago.

[ninjago-forever]

Ninternia: The Ultimate Elemental

Chapter 6: Pushing Past Loss

Clay streached as he stepped out of the bus, feeling stiff after the long drive from The Temple to Diamond Canyon. Two days ago, Sensei Ju had left them with Atalie and Churro, and a map with the four vault locations, claiming he had important matters to attend to elsewhere. He hadn't been the happiest to see their teacher go but they did have a mission to complete and he had no intention of failing.

"Finally," Khan said, following him out of the bus. Ren came out right after him and went straight to the canyon's edge.

"Whoa, check this out guys! The river looks so tiny from up here!" he said pointing. Suddenly, he lost his footing and would've fallen into the chasm if Cyrus hadn't grabbed him.

"Perhaps you should calm down or at least step away from the edge. It is approximately 8,561 feet to the bottom from this location," the nindroid said.

Ren blinked, and stepped back.

"How is that 'approximate'?" Khan asked.

"I do not know the distance to the inch," Cyrus explained.

"Unbelievable," muttered Khan.

Clay just chuckled at their exchange. Turning to look at the natural wonder of the canyon, he felt a pang of nostalgia and.... grief. He'd visited it many times when he was young. This had been one of his mother's many places she'd taken him to escape the hustle and bustle of Pyrite City. They'd spent countless weekends hiking the winding trails, climbing the layered, colorful, walls, and rafting in the rushing river that had created Diamond Canyon, but... that time had ended long ago.

"What's wrong?" Katara asked coming out of the bus with Atalie, who joined the others at the cliff.

"Huh? Uh, nothing. I'm fine," Clay said trying to think of a quick subject change, "Um... What's with the armbands?"

She gave him a look, but answered the question, "I've been working on them for awhile, finally finished them on the drive. They've got a number of useful functions I'm hoping to try out while we get the scabbard."

As he'd expected, she didn't elaborate on what exactly the armbands did. He didn't ask either. It was easy enough to tell that it would take time for her to warm up to them, and he was willing to wait. They were all part of the same team now, pushing or fighting each other would only make it harder to work as one.

"Ready for a long hike?" he asked instead, "According to Sensei's notes, the vault's at the bottom."

"I've been on worse trails then this," she replied, her face turning hard, "and sometimes I had to make my own."

Uncertain how to respond without making her uncomfortable, Clay let the silence go on until Atalie called them over to trail. It seemed he wasn't the only one with an upsetting history with the outdoors.

Hours later, the six Guardians and their historian guide stood before a long crack in the canyon's layered, sandstone wall. After reaching the bottom, Atalie had led them to one of the many little traveled, small branch offs of the canyon. They'd contiued to go deeper and deeper into the branch till they could barely walk straight, and if that didn't make you want some space, they were supposed to squeeze themselves into a crack that looked about a foot wide. Clay eyed it with a frown. It brought back memories, and not good one. Turning sideways to inch after Atalie, he told himself; Remember, all that happened because you were too stupid to move. Don't let the same thing happen ever again.

"Claustrophobic?" Ren asked, as he was right behind him.

"No," Clay replied, "This just... reminds me of something."

"This reminds me of the time I got stuck in a fridge for five hours," Ren replied cheerfully.

"You what!?" Khan asked, the next line.

"In my defense, it was a really hot day, my parents wouldn't let me go swimming, and I was only four," the redhead said.

"You had a swimming pool... in your penthouse??" Khan asked.

"Umm... It was pretty big," Ren replied awkwardly.

"What are you guys talking about?" Jaya called over from behind her brother.

"Nothing," Ren yelled back.

"Can we stop shouting in enclosed spaces?" Katara asked, all the way in the back with Cyrus, "It's hurting my ears."

"We weren't that loud," Khan said.

"Maybe to you," she replied, "Your ears are clogged with hair gel."

"HEY!"

"Now that was loud" cracked Ren.

Clay smiled to himself, happy to hear Katara messing around with the others. Before long though she fell silent and let Khan, Ren, and Jaya continue the banter, but it was progress.

Cyrus... Clay wasn't entirely sure how to make him feel welcome. The most he could do was treat him the same as the others, even if it was a little hard to understand the nindroid in the rare times he did talk. At least the others got along okay.

I'll make it work, somehow.

Despite his efforts to distract himself, Clay was unable to hold off the memories off for long. He remembered how excited he'd been for the reward that awaited him at the end of their climb, how annoyed he'd felt when his mom had taken him on a detour, and how heavy the guilt had felt after it was all over. It was a burden he carried to this day. A constant reminder of his failure.

Tangled up in his thoughts and emotions, Clay stumbled in surprise when the crack abruptly ended, emerging in a huge, stone, chamber. Torches were set along the wall every few feet, providing light to show the warm, brown, strangely carved floor. Aside from a length of space along two of the walls, one where they stood and another on the opposite end of the room, the floor was separated into a grid of intricately carved squares. No two looked alike. The only other notable thing in the room was a pile of rocks by them that looked like it was formed when corner of the cavern had collapsed.

"This is far as I'm going," Atalie said "From here to the other end of the room each square sets off some sort of trap. Good luck."

"Whole lot of help she was," Khan muttered.

"I don't get it," Ren said.

"She took us down here, gave us useless information, and-"

"I was talking about the torches," Ren interrupted. "This vault is over a century old, how are they still burning?"

"Well I don't think they're the answer," Katara said keeping her distance from the flaming wood, "Maybe there's a pattern that'll get us across safely."

Cyrus stepped forward, "I will run every possible sequence through my processers to see if there is any relation." An awkward pause passed.

Khan coughed. Jaya elbowed him. Katara rolled her eyes. Ren tried not laugh. Clay watched. A perplexed look passed over Cyrus's face.

"I do not understand," he said.

"You didn't find anything?" Clay asked.

"No, I could not run it. I cannot access my processers, "he replied.

"Oh very helpful we have a robot that doesn't even work," Khan groaned.

"It's complicated technology," Ren shot back, "You can't expect it to work perfectly."

"Don't talk about Cyrus like he isn't here," Clay said, stepping forward, "And we have a job to do, so enough."

Khan turned to him, "Who died and made you leader?"

"He makes a better one then you could hope to be," Katara chimed in.

A sharp whistle broke out, startling all of them.

"This isn't the time to argue," Jaya, the source of the whistle, said, "Like Clay said, we're here to do something. Let's get it done."

Clay said, "She makes a point. Katara, you're good with tech. Do you think you can see what's up with Cyrus's? The rest of you, let's see if we can figure out a way across."

There was some grumbles, but they did as he asked. Ren and Khan started testing out the squares, triggering various traps in the process. They only managed to escape them by jumping straight back to the unmarked floor. If they'd tried to just go to another tile, they would've been caught in one of the traps. Meanwhile, Jaya and Clay studied the symbols engraved into the stone, searching for some sort of pattern or clue.

"Does anyone have some sort of tech on them?" Katara called out, "Preferably not too advanced."

I've got my phone," Khan said snapping it out of the holder on his belt, "it's beat up though... Either Clay or Ren kicked it into the wall..."

"It was me," Clay said.

"You owe me a phone," Khan told him.

"Fine, does it work?" Katara asked.

"It should..." Khan said, trying and failing to turn it on, "Or not."

"My GenWatch isn't working either," Ren added, showing them the black screen strapped to his wrist.

"My armbands are the same," Katara said, "I'll be right back." She disappeared into the crack.

"Well, any ideas on how to get across?" Jaya asked after the other girl had left.

"One," Khan said, "we run it."

"Correction: Any one have any good ideas on how to get across?" Jaye said. Apparently, she didn't like insults unless they were between her and her brother.

"I'm serious!" Khan said, "We're all trained ninja, are you saying our reflexes aren't faster than a bunch of ancient booby traps?" 

"Actually," Katara said, returning from the outside "they're not ancient. In fact, they were probably only just built."

"Okay, you lost me," Ren told her.

"Could you elaborate?" Cyrus inquired.

"Not long after I left, I must of passed some sort of invisible line because my armbands started working," she explained, "but the really weird thing is that I ran into Atalie. She said she'd only just left and when checked the time, it hasn't changed from when we got here."

"So are you saying time freezes in here?" Clay asked.

"Something like that," she replied, "and that's possibly affecting the tech too."

"This does not compute," Cyrus stated.

"And what does that have to do with anything?!" Khan pointed out, "We still don't have a way across."

"Actually" Jaya said, approaching the collapsed corner of the room, "If time hasn't passed in this room since it was made, then when did the cave in happen? And why would Sensei Ju and the Guardians leave it?"

Clay lifted one of the rocks, not without some difficulty "Are we supposed to build a way across?"

"I don't think we can," Ren commented, "Not without something to hold the stones together, or cut them so they fit like a puzzle."

Katara walked to the edge of the grid. "Clay, can you throw that rock out there?"

"Sure," he grunted, positioning himself then sending the rock as far out as he could over the grid. It landed on a square several rows away, which triggered an intense jet of fire to it from above. To everyone's surprise, Katara gave sort of startled shout, and stumbled into Khan in her haste to get away from flames.

"Scared of fire, huh?" he askel catching her gently, "Don't worry, I won't hurt ya." She tore herself away from him with a death glare.

"Look, the stone's weight keeps the square down so we can step on it without setting anything off. All we have to do is make a path," she said.

"Great idea!" Jaya complimented her as the boys started moving rocks. Clay glanced back, noticing how Katara stayed behind, and handed them rocks instead of setting any down herself, now wary of the traps. He couldn't help but wonder if she had some past experience with fire that had left her traumatized. He set down the rock he was carrying and started to move out of the way, but when he saw the particular trap this one held, a stalagtite ready to fall and crush him, Clay froze.

No, no, no...

          Not again...

                  It was all my fault....

​​​​​​"Why will you not move!?!" Cyrus yelped, quickly yanking him back moments before he would've been impaled by the stone spike.

Clay looked at the nindroid with a bewildered expression, disorientated because of the memories flashing in his mind, so vivid he'd thought they'd been real for a second. 

"S-sorry. I-I don't.. thanks for saving me." He stammered.

"Gratitude is both unnecessary, and unwarranted," Cyrus stated.

"He means 'It was nothing.' Maybe you better sit the rest of this out," Ren said, leading the teen back to the entrance before continuing to help the others.

"You okay?" Clay asked Katara as soon as he saw her. He'd wanted to ask earlier, but he didn't think she would've been honest with the whole group watching. Hopefully she'd be more open if it was one on one. She didn't seem to get the memo though.

"Are you?" she responded, answering a question with a question.

He held back a sigh. "I asked first."

"I'm fine now."

Figuring that was the best he was going to get, he said "I just... I used to explore caves with with my mom. We had some close calls, but she'd always pull us out of trouble."

"'used to', do you guys not do that anymore? I guess you wouldn't have the time with the whole Guardian thing though.."

"That, and she died nine years ago," he said stiffly, handing a heavy rock to Cyrus. Katara blinked.

"I didn't know," she muttered.

"I didn't say."

"We're across!" Khan shouted from the other end of the room.  Katara nodded for him to go first. As he hopscotched his way over the stones, his mind began to swirl again.

Why did I tell her?

It wasn't something he told others often. All sharing did was get him sympathy he didn't deserve. He moved away from Katara as soon as they reached the other end, taking a place between Khan and Ren to stare up at the huge double door set into the wall before them. Its only decoration was a series of five seals going down the center. From the top down: a symbol that looked a cross between a  shuriken and a compass, a bunch of wiggly lines circling in, a yin yang droplet thing,  a circle of boulders surrounding two mountain ranges, and a clock gear combo.

"What do they mean?" Jaya asked.

Cyrus ran hand down them. "I am unsure. I am unable to access my database."

"They look sorta familiar," Ren rubbed his chin.

"I know this one," Clay set a hand on the mountain symbol. As soon as his bare fingers brushed stone, an orange light lit from within the cracks. The doors silently began to slide open to reveal the chamber beyond. It was a small room, every inch of it covered carvings inlaid with precious metals and stones. His face went hard, remembering what had happened last time he'd been in a cave with this many jewels.

"What did you do?" Khan demanded.

"I don't know," Clay replied, storming in the room and prying the scabbard out it's place of honor on the wall. "Let's get of here." A deep rumbling started as cracks spread from the scabbards former home, and gemstones began to fall. Dimly he heard the others yelling, but his vision blurred as the memories hit him again.

falling towards me...

                She saved me...

                         But now she's gone

If I hadn't frozen she'd still be here

If I hadn't grabbed the scabbard, this wouldn't be happening.

I let my friends down, just like I did with her.

It's all my fault.

He felt a body crash into him, throwing them both against the wall of the room as the rest of the room caved in. Coughing, he fought back tears, and he didn't think they were from the dust.

"Hey you okay?" Katara asked, trying her best to get off of him in the cramped space.

"Huh? Oh... yeah," Clay muttered, holding his head in his hands. From what he could tell a slab of stone had hit the wall at an angle, thus shealtering them. "Th-thank you." He added in a whisper, surrendering and letting his tears silently slide down his face, grateful that it was too dark for her to see them. Katara just sat next to him, muttering under her breath and trying to make as little contact as possible.

Why did I have to be so stupid?

We wouldn't be stuck if I'd just stopped to think, but no

I let my memories overwhelm me again

'Guardian of Earth' ha

I'm surrounded by it and I'm useless,

"Are you... crying?" Katara said hesitantly. Clay wiped his face, how had she known? He hadn't made a sound.

"Not anymore."

"It's... okay if you are. I mean, I can't think of a way out of here, so unless you have a plan..."

"I'm sorry. I should've never grabbed the scabbard without checking it."

"It's not your fault."

"Of course it is!" Clay snapped feeling all the fear, fustration, and guilt turn to anger, "I wasn't paying attention, and now it's going to cost us our lives! Just like-like when I caused the last cave in. She'd be here if I hadn't been so stupid."

At this point he lost it and starting sobbing like the little boy who'd lost his mom all those years ago, feeling as if everything that had passed since then had never even happened.

"Last cave in? What are you talking about?" Katara asked. "Who would still be here?"

"My- my mom. On my tenth birthday she took me to this-this cave full of crystals. I tripped on something and screamed and the cave started to collapse. One of the crystals were about to fall on me and I froze. My mom knocked me out of way, but it got her shoulder. We managed to escape, but... she died from the injury." 

"I know better than most how much the guilt hurts, but don't let it control you." After a second, she handed him the bandanna she always wore so he could wipe his tears.

"So what am I supposed to do?" He felt a weight, a pressure beginning to build, slowly crushing him, "Forget about it? Let go?! Move on!?!" He grabbed at his hair, trying not to scream.

"No, let it became part of you. Accept it and make sure it never happens again. She died to save you. If you spend the rest of your life blaming yourself, her sacrifice will be pointless, but if you let it drive you, every step will have a meaning."

And then he did scream, the sound tearing from deep inside him, taking in every word she said like they were a lifeline out of the nine years torment caging him. Of telling himself every day he wasn't enough. That it had been his fault. Making himself carry a burden that got heavier with each step until he felt like he was carrying the weight of the world.

And now he was cracking, letting it go. Now he was ending it, because what was there to carry if it becomes part of you? A warmth poured through him, energy that felt like it was flowing from all around them. As if all the strength he'd lost fighting himself was coming back.

"Whoa," Katara whispered. Clay opened his eyes, and to his surprise, actually saw her. A soft orange glow was corning from his eyes and arms, looking almost like lava, and illuminating the angles on her face, her long black hair, her blue and silver eyes, and... pointed ears?

"Katara! Your ears, they're.... pointed?" he said, confused.

"And you're glowing," she teased, "But yes, I'm an elf. I'll explain later." She tied the bandanna back on, hiding her ears again.

"Do the others-?"

"No."

"Ah."

"Can you get us out of here?"

"I can try."

Clay shifted his positition so that his feet were under him, and his hands were against the slab. Grunting, he shoved it as hard as he could, and... it went flying into the opposite wall.

"What was that?" yelped a pile of rubble that sounded suspiciously like Ren.

Grinning at his new found power, Clay slammed both his hands into the floor, causing all the rocks to levitate. "That is the sound of freedom my friend. Who's ready to get out of here?"

[midnightdevotion]

Doc

Request: Bob x reader

Warnings: Um Sweet bob?

a/n:

The wistful sigh that leaves you in unintentional. Realistically you knew Lemoore wouldn't be where you and your husband would be placed forever. It's one of the downsides to being the wife of a WSO, especially one as talented as your bob is.

One last hopeful glance that the next people in the home will take care of the flowers you had nurtured. You feel a hand on your thigh and glance over at the man you would move a million times for.

"I'm sorry honey, I know you liked it here" You give him a sweet smile, wanting to reach over and smooth the tension in his face.

"No need to apologize love, as long as I'm with you then I'm okay, I can grow new flowers" his hand squeezes your thigh and you reminisce back to when everyone told you marrying him would be a mistake so young. You never felt that way though, you were high school sweethearts, and people didn't understand how you met the one so young.

You always just tell people that when they find their Bob they will understand. You look over to the man himself, as he taps on the steering wheel, focused on driving you two down the Miramar.

When he got the letter calling him to top gun, your heart froze. You know what kind of missions top gun send people on, and they aren't the easy peasy back by dinner missions. They are the someone is most likely not coming back missions. It's doubly terrifying because while your husband is smart and very capable, he's not the one flying the plane.

Sure you try to soothe yourself with blanket statements that this pilot has also been called to top gun, they have to be good right? However, that doesn't mean much to you when you don't know how good or who they even are.

It's a five hour drive from Lemoore to Miramar, and sweet sweet bob knows exactly how your mind works, so the entire time he's blasting music and making you dance and sing along with him. It's pure bliss, looking over and seeing bob singing the song and head banging, dancing as much as he can while driving. It's these moments with him, that you cherish forever. The gleam in his eye as he laughs when you dance, or the way that every time you two stop for gas or snacks he opens your door for you, the way he tucks you into his side arm around your waist and placing a kiss on your head.

Bob is your everything.

You are currently sitting in the car, waiting for bob to come back out of the gas station. When he comes back out you see him with two bags and something potted? He comes straight to your door and opens it, grinning at you in the process.

"Well I got us tons of snacks, that way later when we get settled we can have a movie night, oh and I also saw this little cactus and I know it's not your flowers but I thought maybe you'd like something that can travel around with us? Given that it's stateside at least.." He looks up at you sheepishly and your heart swells.

"Oh Robert..." you are grinning at him so big, trying to ignore the watery eyes that are threatening to spill.

"I love you so much" is all you can say, and your voice is thick with emotion. You take the tiny little cactus from him and give him a kiss. His hand caresses your cheek but you two keep it short and sweet. Bob gets shy with PDA and you love that he's still willing to show it for you but you try to keep it light for his sake.

He places one last kiss to your nose. "I love you too darling" and then he makes his way back to the drivers side, ready to finish the last 30 minutes of your drive.

You guys get to the base around 2:00 pm, and quickly get assigned a house for you two to stay in for the next three weeks. You and bob unpack the car, moving in perfect harmony because you've done this enough times to know exactly what to do.

By the time it reaches Six you two have completely settled into the new humble abode, your new cactus sitting on the cheap ikea table. You know that the navy men and women will go to a nearby bar, just like every town, and try to piece together what is going on. While normally you just let bob go and do his things, today you'd like a drink.

"everything okay darling? You usually don't go to these things?" You look up to see a confused face.

"I know, I'd just like to get out and have a drink, maybe I can make a few friends too. I'll probably uber home early though I have an early session" He raises an eyebrow at that.

"you are most certainly not Ubering home by yourself." You laugh at his over protectiveness but nod none the less, you like how he takes care of you.

When you make it to the bar, it is a sea of Khaki. A fleeting thought of how much harder that makes it to find your husband, the one who slinks into corners and blends right in. That however, is a problem for future you. For now you make your way to the bar and order your favorite drink.

You people watch, generally in bobs area, you can tell one is too egotistical for his own good, and you hope he is not flying with your bob. Theres a couple that just seem to be good hearted jokesters. One that is egotistical but in a less loud way, and A female pilot that shows no weakness. You can't tell who you'd like your husband to be flying with.

You spend a few more hours people watching, having become a Psychiatrist-- you love to analyze people. You're good at it too, usually your observations tell you lots of things, and it can be a cool party trick to break out sometimes.

You let bob know you are ready to go by a simple text. You'd asked him once why he doesn't really tell a lot of people he works with that he's married, because he seems to brag about it everywhere else.

He'd explained it like this, there are people you trust in his line of work and there are ones that look for weaknesses. It's not just that he doesn't talk about his wife, he doesn't talk about himself in general. Too many times you think you can trust someone you are stationed with, just for rumors to spread about you as soon as you're stationed elsewhere. The last thing he wants is you to be involved in rumors, or the brunt of some disgusting mens jokes.

__

The first week passes like whiplash. You hardly see bob, and you're catching up on some work because you took a few days off for the move. It's about seven when you get a text from bob saying that they are headed to the bar to cool off from today and then they have a beach thing in the morning. You are confused because usually he likes to keep work things separate, but the following text comes through that he'd love if you would come has your mind working overtime.

You decide to head to the bar to see what is going on. You push through the doors seeing Penny hurrying around the bar, and then you hear your name being called. Furrowing your brows you look to your left and see your husband excitedly waving you in.

You're a bit dumbfounded but it seems to be the theme because everyone around bob has the same look on their faces.

"holy shit bobby here really is married"

"Bob married upppppp"

"bob teach me your ways"

Everyone started talking at once, yet your confusion didn't go anywhere.

"Ignore them, Im Phoenix Bob's pilot, he's told me a lot about you!" Your attention focuses on her, the brunette you saw last week that could handle her own.

"Hi, it's so nice to meet you...I uh sorry most of the time I'm not so speechless but I wasn't expecting this" You let out a sheepish laugh.

"yeah the guys can be a bit overwhelming-" You both glance to see one of them giving your husband a noogie.

"-and stupid. They mean well though"

It goes like a flash, one minute your standing next to Phoenix getting along really well and the next you've been introduced to everyone and your finally standing with bob again.

"so honey what made you tell these guys?"

"I haven't seen you all week, and these guys are different, cocky ass hell but good, you can tell too right?" you grin at him.

"yeah I can tell, and I missed you too" he grins at you.

"So bobby here, was telling us that you are a Psychiatrist." You look up to see hangman as you were introduced smirking at you.

"that is correct yes" you watch as his smile widens.

"analyze us then" you hear a collective groan from everyone else and you laugh.

"I'll only do it to the people who want it" you feel bob shake with laughter next to you.

"Hangman you're cocky, undeniably so, but why? Everyone here is at least as good as you are and they don't act so arrogant, and that's the key word isn't it, act. My guess is you have some kind of troubled past that fuels you into wanting to be the best of literally everything you do because once upon a time nothing you did was good enough. Am I close?" The smile slowly slipped off of his face as you went on. He swallows hard.

"damn Doc, you didn't have to hit me so hard" he mumbles.

"You did ask" and everyone laughs. The mustached one slaps him on the back.

"I'm almost scared to hear mine, but let's hear it" You watch as he rubs his hands together in obvious nervousness.

"You spend more time than any one else here calculating your next move, I imagine that is true in the air too, which leads me to believe you know what happens when something goes wrong in more than just a theoretical sense." His eyes hold surprise, but he smiles at you which helps you calm your nerves a bit.

"you certainly are good doc." the night continues like this, people would ask your snap judgements and you would share within reason, not wanting to truly hurt someone.

You get to know Phoenix more and even have plans to get together tomorrow. It makes your heart swell with happiness, you are hardly around women with Bob's job and she seems amazing. It helps soothe your worries knowing she's his pilot too.

You're genuinely excited for the next few weeks and even more elated when you find out that you will all be stationed to stay in Miramar together.

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[tirednerd2012]

Can you talk more about why you think Lonnie physically abused Jonathan/Will? Or your thoughts on him in general.

Trigger warning for mentions of emotional and physical abuse.

So, I truly hate Lonnie. He is a piece of shit that never deserved Joyce, Jonathan or Will. I remember there was a scene in the first season where Hopper is showing a picture of Will to one of the townspeople and he was like "no, that's Lonnie's boy" I was RAGING.

To start off with Jonathan because I already started talking about this previously. He has said to Jonathan "you've gotten stronger" which implies that he has physically fought Jonathan at least once. He made him kill a rabbit when he was a kid, which has led to him not wanting to use a gun. The only time he was willing was when he didn't know how good of a shot Nancy was, but he was hunting something that took his brother. Other than that, he has stayed away from them, where Will knows how to load a shotgun and he was ready to use it in the first episode. Jonathan was forced to grow up as a kid because he was the oldest and his family needed him. He had to be a safe place for Will. We see this when Lonnie and Joyce are arguing in another room and he promptly shuts the door and turns the music up so Will doesn't have to hear it. And he was the one to explain to Will that he shouldn't have to like things because Lonnie said he did. Jonathan holds more anger against Lonnie than Will does, which is something else that I feel proves my theory. Also, again, Jonathan looked for Will in Lonnie's trunk. He searched every room and called for Will's name and berated Lonnie with how he probably didn't even know what Will looked like anymore. His father didn't know about his dream school, what he likes, nothing. And Jonathan didn't seem to care to have his dad know what was going on, showing they don't have a good relationship. I also believed that Hawkins would be in southern Indiana, which would make a trip to Indianapolis at least a two hour drive, but I could be wrong about it, it just feels very southern Indiana in my opinion. But he made that trip thinking there was a chance Will was there and didn't listen to Hopper because Will could think he was in trouble, but if Will didn't know how abusive/dangerous Lonnie was, Jonathan could have genuinely been worried that Will was in danger/hurt, so he didn't hesitate to blow Hopper's orders off.

I also think that if Lonnie was physically abusive towards anyone (and he does show signs) that it would have been Jonathan and not when Joyce was around, because if Joyce thought her kids were in physical danger, she would have shut it down. But if he told Jonathan that if he left, the family would suffer, Jonathan wouldn't say anything. Lonnie blows up and goes off, and I don't think Jonathan would let Will be at the end of it, rather taking it himself to better his family.

For Will, I don't think he was ever physically abused by Lonnie, but definitely emotionally. And Will was so young he didn't even realize it was abuse. Lonnie failed to get Jonathan to be the man he wanted him to be (though Jonathan is twice the man Lonnie could ever dream of being) so he focused that energy on Will. Will knew how to load a gun. He seemed ready to shoot the Demogorgon. He tried to get Will to like basketball games and stuff like that, and Will agreed because he wanted to be around his dad. Jonathan was the first person we see that validates Will's interests and straight up tells him Lonnie is wrong. I'm sure as Will got older and started looking back, he realized what was going on.

For Joyce, he berated her. He manipulated her. He caused her so much pain and then when Jonathan and Will didn't turn out the way he wanted them to, he didn't hesitate to leave. He willingly left his kids and then paints their mother out to be the bad guy and blames her for Will's disappearance, even though she was the one that was constantly there for them. He took charge of the funeral and made it seem like he was there to support his family, but he just wanted to gain money from Will's death. He didn't care that his youngest son was dead. He showed Joyce minimum compassion so she didn't kick him out. He showed Jonathan zero sympathy for someone who was sure Will was gone. He told him not to make this day harder than it had to be, even though Jonathan was the one that was there for Will and raised him more than Lonnie ever did. Then he had the nerve, after finding out his son was DEAD, to tell Jonathan to take a poster down because it was inappropriate. He tried to take control of Jonathan and show dominance towards him because he knew Jonathan would see right through the "compassion" bullshit and if Joyce wasn't in such a bad state of mind, she would have to. He took advantage of what could have been their most difficult day.

Also, does he even know Will is alive? Did he bother to tell his son he was glad he was okay? He didn't fucking mourn the death of his child, he just acted like he did. Even if you don't talk to your child, do you not feel pain when something happens to them? Would you not want to hug your last living child and try to remedy that relationship before it's too late? Lonnie is fucking heartless and only looked after himself.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#255

This is a direct follow up to #35.

“Glad to see you make it up here ok. I’m Robert, and you are?... Eddie. Good to meet you. Did you enjoy the drive? It really is nice. That’s part of the reason why I live up here. We don’t get many clients that come up here. Most order on line, but you are the first of the season. I reviewed your e-mail again and I think I have a selection of rimchairs for you. It would help me to narrow down your selections more if you answer some additional questions….

“Here, let’s go into the workshop. So, is this going to be a chair for you? Good. Are you the ass or the ass eater? Will you ever go underneath it?... No? Ok. Don’t worry, the only time I go under mine is to work on it.... Women, men, or both?... Women. Is this part of a S&M or kink situation?... That’s fine. It’s very rare for me to find someone willing to spend all this money for the sensual aspects of eating ass. Did you bring a slave woman with you? That’s fine. Most straight men don’t….

“No, I prefer fags under mine; is that going to be an issue here? I only ask because, I want to find the best rim chair for you, and I have a wealth of expertise I rely on. I don’t want to share my experiences with you and have it be awkward.

“Good! Good! Unless we need him, the faggot is up at the main house. That reminds me, will you be using the rim chair for full toilet activities? No… you would be surprised with just how many people are. Hell, every single dominatrix I have made a rim chair for is into it. And some of those women are fucking brutal to their slaves.

“So here let’s start with these three. The left two are designed primarily for rear entry and this third one is for the front. Me personally, I prefer my slave lying behind me when he’s attending to my shithole. His tongue seems to go in deeper and at a better angle. And I don’t have to spread my legs when he’s there. That’s one of the big difference between men and women is that women are narrower than men. It gets uncomfortable at times. For me it’s just easier with it behind me. Do you have a preference?... That’s fine. They will be designed for front and rear entries, but structurally it will be designed one way.

“It’s really all about comfort. Comfort was actually that reason that got me into making rimchairs. What I saw out there was horrible. They were rimseats. To me rimseats are different than what I make. Rimseats are essentially toilet seats on legs. The faggot lies underneath, and I would squat down. I’m a big guy and I can’t sit that low for a long time, before my legs start to cramp up, about fifteen to twenty minutes at most. The problem with making the legs longer is that the faggot underneath is then straining to keep his head buried in the crack of my ass. Either it is straining to keep its tongue buried deep, or its head can move all around. Either way, the faggot tires quickly and it’s a piss poor rimjob.

“That’s why I started with the idea of transforming regular chair designs into rimchairs. I have throne-like chairs, deck chairs, reclining chairs, dining chairs, and so on. Every one has support for the toilet lying underneath, so that multiple hour-long sessions are not a problem. I can customize it to a specific head size, as well as how far in you want the slave’s face when you sit down. Or, some of the chairs allow for adjustability. I personally like feeling my faggot’s face getting wedged in there, and then to have its mouth lined up to connect with my shithole. That is priceless. No other feeling of power compares with it. If you are into slaves that are reluctant, I can make the head spaces very restrictive. I can even create a box, measured exactly to your slave’s head where they can’t move an inch. My slave tells me that it gets very claustrophobic under it. I even designed is so that the slave places its head in the box and the hinged platform lowers with a piece going below the slave’s chin preventing the slave from pulling out from underneath until you get up off the chair and let it out.

“I see you like the casual desk chair. I have one just like it at my work desk. My faggot is under that one for hours. I can be doing work, surfing the internet, or jacking off to porn. I’m not even paying attention to the tongue fucking I’m getting. It’s just adding to the general euphoria of what I’m doing.

“You have a wife, girlfriend, bitch slave, or whatever?... Oh you have an out of state friend with benefits that likes to eat ass? From what I have learned through the years, it’s hard to find a woman into it. That’s fucking awesome.

“If you really love your butthole tongued for a long time, maybe you should get a fag, until you find the right bitch. Seriously. I had one client purchase a similar seat to that one, that he had installed in his playroom. It was up against a wall. He enclosed the sides of the chair. There was a hole in the wall that the ass eater would crawl through. It was an 18 year-old faggot from down the street, and that fag tongue fucked like no other I have ever tried out, and yeah I tried it out. The most interesting thing is that they had a set time each week when they did this. The kid came in through a dedicated entrance, and the client sat down, neither of them said a word to the other. Truly amazing.

“Go on, have a seat. I’ll have it customed to your ass and thighs so that when you are sitting, your cheeks are comfortably spread. You know, those Carhartt pants are restricting your ass and legs. You’re not getting the proper placement of your ass.

“Why don’t you take them off? Other than me and shithead up in the house, no one is going to see you. I get maybe, maybe one customer a week. When we go into the design room to take measurements, I will need you to have them off. Leaving your underwear on is better than this. Briefs, no briefs. We don’t care…. Commando? We don’t care about that either.

“Look, if you think this is my way of seducing you, let me say that I like faggot boys, not real men like yourself. I get turned on when I know a man—a real hard working man—is getting his dick, ass, and everything else taken care of at the expense of faggots. I’m not talking about gay boys. I mean faggots, boys who exist to serve a real man, to take care of that man’s needs including draining his balls, eating his ass, and so on. To a faggot, draining your cock and eating your shithole is the reason for its existence, even at the expense of its own needs. So no, I wouldn’t dream of sticking my cock in you. You can count on that.

“Don’t worry about my faggot; its tiny pecker is permanently locked away. It has been that way ever since he got here last fall. You remember that first snowstorm we had? Well right before the snowfall hit its car ran out of gas, and it got stuck. At least that was its story. I made it an offer, find someone else to help in the snowstorm, or submit to me. I’ve kept it naked, with its pecker painfully locked up in that device ever since. I’ve trained it to service my shithole for hours on end. It hasn’t cum in the five months it’s been serving me.

“Let me text it to come down here…. No, it’s no problem. Go ahead and get comfortable. Take the pants off, leave them on the table. It’s best to put your work boots back on.

“That’s a beautiful cock you have. I bet the women love it. Stop the modesty thing. You are a fucking hot man, you should relish in the adoration. Have a seat. Doesn’t that feel good on your ass? You can feel the spread, but it doesn’t feel like you are falling in? Now imagine a moist tongue darting in and out of your crack.

“And speaking of a moist tongue, here��s the fag…. Faggot! This is Sir Eddie. Get under the seat and get to work….

“No more protesting. I don’t care how dirty it is. I saw your skid marks in your pants, the fag will clean you up. He lives for shit like this. Its tongue feels good in there, doesn’t it? Don’t answer, I can see it on your face. Just relax.

“I will be over there in the design shop if you need me. Try out any of the other chairs. The faggot will do whatever you want or need to feel good. You can stay as long as you like. Even over night or throughout the rest of the weekend. The fag will take care of everything for you. It’ll eat your farts, drink your piss, throat your shaft, take a beating, or whatever. Just tell it what you want, and it will comply. By the end you will understand why a faggot is better than a bitch. Make me a good enough offer, and I may throw the faggot in.”

[studiojeon]

use me | jjk

this is part of my troubled outsiders series. i think you can read this by itself though :)

| summary | -   Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you.

warnings: language (?), mentions of hook ups and situationships. mentions of emotional trauma.

contents: a compilation of moments that contributed to the growth of their relationship, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read, jungkook is hard to read and sus. oc is kinda whipped and scared af. chaeryeong knows who you are and where you live. jk and oc are scared to let each other in. friends to lovers, idol!jungkook x student!oc.

author’s note: i hate this, but i have to get it off my chest. (the narration is off af but if i keep it in my drafts for longer this will never see the light of the day). p.s. thank u so much for the support on the last drabble <3

playlist: rain by trey songz (feat. swae lee). 

words: 4.75k

“JK?” as his broad back faces you, you call out his name timidly, not missing the way he swiftly turns around as soon as he hears his name come from your lips. Hair wet and darker than usual, a very big sweat stain at the center of his hoodie. He had just gotten out of practice, you assumed. 

“___?” he replied with the initials of your name as well, one of his tired grins plastered on his face, he must have been exhausted. You had caught on to him just as he walked out of the practice room in front of the elevator on your way to your office, right when you needed him, but now you weren’t so sure if it was a good idea to pester him. Even so, you didn’t know anyone else you could ask for help, aside from Linh who was currently in her own office doing other tasks you had assigned to her.

“Are you busy right now?” your eyes stare at him shyly, in hopes that he was willing to help you out, because you wanted to be around him, so maybe he could share a bit of his positive energy with you, the past week had been hellish.  “Could use some help returning all those heavy stacks of paper in my office”.

“Of course! Why didn’t you give me a call earlier though? It’s pretty late” he walked by your side and you enter the elevator, beginning your adventure around the company.

Jungkook was fun. Always bubbly and reciprocative, constantly trying his best to make you laugh and make the absolute best of your situation, even if he could be a bit stubborn at times. You liked the spontaneity he provided though, the way he would switch from one topic to another and how he would make silly faces at you whenever you locked eyes. 

He didn’t know, but in pure ignorance, he had just made your day ten times better. 

In the past week, you had received a lot of counterarguments, one by one, on how useless your management tactics were. Granted, you hadn’t expected for your ideas to be welcomed with open arms, but at least you had hoped they would take them into consideration. You had also been assigned a team, in charge of social media management, who worked monotonously and with little to no insertion in the actual target audience… your logic was: how can you advertise products to an audience you don’t even have the mere interest to know? You had designed a strategy, presented it, and no one paid any mind to you. 

But for the most part, you felt lonely. Had no one to talk to, nor go to whenever you needed your spirits to be lifted up.

Chaeryeong was busy busy with group projects and work. To the extent where she would get up at seven in the morning and come back at 12 pm. It wasn’t always like that, so you didn’t worry too much, but the fear she would wear herself off like usual still crowded your mind.

You close your office door with a sigh. Tired from everything, but somehow, your heart a little fuller, knowing that maybe you could use Jungkook in the future to give you a lift. Both figuratively and literally because he had offered to drive you home, being the gentleman he was.

“Why do you look like a sad puppy?” he asked you once you were sitting by his side in his very expensive and luxurious mercedes. Tinted windows and jet black shiny paint covered the outside of his car, the smell of air refresher and pinecone filling the inside. Mans was getting hotter by the minute.

“It’s friday night after the longest week of work. How can I not?” you put on your seat belt and lean back against the leather cushions. He pouts in response to you, with a concerned look on his face. 

For a second you wonder if he did this with most coworkers… being nice to them and offering them drives after having met them just a few times before. Kinda risky behviour, considering his position and squeaky clean reputation. You figure this would only last a bit before he realized he had more important things to be focusing on.

“Do you ever get chased home?” you ask randomly. 

With one hand on the wheel and the other leaned against his door he meditated on his response. “It happened once… And then I moved out, got a new car and everything. Shit was wild” he chuckles and you think that was the first time you had heard him curse, like ever. Jungkook, friendly and everything, wasn’t too big of a talker, but with you he found himself spilling, without giving it much thought. It felt refreshing to hear his voice and listen to his stories and the way he expressed himself. He was more interesting than he seemed, apparently. “Aren’t you hungry, by the way? We can have something to eat before i drop you off”

Traffic was hellish in Seoul everyday at every hour, and choosing to drive through Itaewon on a friday night wasn’t the smartest decision on Jungkook’s behalf, but you didn’t have the heart to tell him that. Considering the demands of his job, he probably didn’t know his way around the city that well. You conclude taking a detour wouldn’t hurt. “I’m starving actually.”

He ends up taking you to a restaurant near your neighborhood you had mentioned being good and not crowded at all, the latter catching his attention immediately. It was a modest but nice place owned by a very funny and loud ahjussi. The man had lost count of how many times you had come down from your apartment at 11 pm and asked him to make you vegetarian tteokguk, but they were enough so that he could memorize your five orders by heart and the amount of saewoo mandu you could down by yourself in five minutes. You were making him rich at that point so the least he could do was comply when you gently asked him to shut the place down for you. Jungkook hadn’t asked you, but you knew how things could get awkward and dangerous quickly if too many people found out about him being there. “Ahjussi, you don’t have to” the boy protested as he noticed that the man had shut the blinds for him.

“It’s okay, boy. _____ has been single handedly paying the remnants of my mortgage for over a year now, I don't mind doing this for her.” he joked in his usual nature. already writing down your order and patiently waiting for Jungkook in front of you to voice out what he wanted for a meal. “And well, you and your friends are making our country proud, it’s the least i can do to thank you”

“Ah, thank you.” Jungkook bows to the older man. Your heart softened in your chest, seeing how considerate he was towards other people. He must be great with parents, you think. “Do you really not get that many people around here?” he asked worriedly once he sat back down on the wooden chair.

“We do! But she’s the one who comes the most often” he nods toward you and Jungkook smiles once he found your gaze, a glint of playfulness in his eyes. 

“Can you recommend me anything, miss?”

“Of course, sir. Yeol-ah, double up my order. Drinks are on me today.” You yell at the man’s son in the kitchen, who was still a bit older than you, but also close to enough to let you order him around shamelessly. You knew him quite well, actually. He was Chaeryeong’s boyfriend after all.

The tall boy pokes his head out of the kitchen door with a very confused expression plastered on his face. “Aren’t we supposed to close in like, an hour?” Chanyeol asks his dad in front of you.

“Just go cook, I'll explain later”.

The two men go back into the kitchen and Jungkook looks at you with an amused expression on his face. “What was that?” he laughs.

“I’m very popular, you know?” it probably wasn’t a good idea to go there, but you felt a little drunk on his voice that night, and you also knew your friend didn’t mind. “In fact, Chaereyong from ITZY is my best friend, who would have guessed?”

“Yeah and my son is her boyfriend, who cares?” Byung-ho yells back at you from the cashier, pulling a hiss from your lips. 

Jungkook still continued to stare at the both of you with confusion and intrigue, you guess he thought you were both joking.

“Wait, really?” he utters after a few seconds with big doe eyes and a pout on his lips, a combination that appeared when he was either confused or lying, which wasn’t the case then.

“Yes, my guy.” you laugh. “That juicy legged shortie is indeed my wife”

Jungkook loved the food, to say the least. It was all vegetarian and korean as fuck, a combination he never throught was possible, but downed like thristy camel. He was a loud eater, which was fitting of him and his politeness, something else you had noticed that night. You were the opposite, and actually despised the sounds of other people eating, yet, looking at him enjoying his meal so much made you feel full yourself. He made you feel like a kid in some ways too, brought back the times when being around others wasn’t so hard, and you still could have a sense of security around you. Talking to him was rather easy, maybe because of his welcoming nature, or because in fact he actually was interested in whatever stupid shit you were saying, something most people around you didn’t do. He also, amongst other things, seemed very interested in your job and the likes, always asking questions and absorbing information like a five year old. You had explained to him the five key steps of process design and the psychological effects on marketing in society to which he always responded with wide gentle eyes and attentive nods, not once looking bored or… annoyed in any way. 

Was he like that, with every girl? Because you weren’t anything special, there were many other girls who worked with him everyday and even if you hadn’t seen him in his work space, you could guess by the way most women in your company look at him whenever he passes by that either they were just as captivated as you by his beauty or that he had fucked them. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was just trying to get into your pants either, it wouldn’t be the first time it happened to you nonetheless.

“I can walk from here, JK” you mention once you found yourselves walking towards the parking lot. A bit sad about the expense you had just made on food, it was your fault for trying to seem cool and rich, neither of which you were. 

“Oh no, I’m not letting you do that, girlie” he unlocks the door and gets in, not even letting you finish or allowing you to fight back.

“My apartment is literally a block away” you protest in the car anyways. You fear you had been too much of a bother, and deep down, didn’t want him to feel like you were seeking his presence unnecessarily.

“Well, good for you. But, you paid for the food, which was a lot, and i don’t want my sugar mommy walking by herself at 12 pm on a friday night” you first freeze, and then burst a very loud giggle.

“Whatever” you slap his bicep and roll your eyes. “ Next time you can pay if it bothers you so much.”

“So there will be a next time?” wide eyes stare back at you. “Count me in. I´ll pick where we will be going, just lemme know when so i can plan ahead” he rambles, a little too excited about your suggestion. 

He drops you off with a smile on his face and hopefulness in his eyes, promising to see you around the company. You, on the other hand, feel a tad confused as you enter your apartment building. What was going on? 

You had overthought things so much your entire life that it suddenly became too tiring to do. During the past few years you had to learn how to detach yourself and just ride the wave sometimes. Once you had turned eighteen, everything started moving at a very fast pace, the pressure of adulthood fell upon you like a brick and everything was so overwhelming that you started to simply let the course of your existence take you wherever it needed to.

That’s how you ended up going out with Jungkook at least once a week for dinner or a drive around the city for more than two months. Without even noticing, he became so engraved in your everyday life that whenever he’d cancel plans because of work, you’d find yourself with a void in your heart and a rush of boredom filling your senses. Even if you found yourself in your living room with the company of your best friend whom you had seen at most four times in the past two months, you were still wishing you could share that intimate space with him instead, willing to let him a bit more into your life, in hopes that maybe he would do the same. Sue you, you were curious over the most intricate details about his personality, how his personal sanctuary looked and if the smell of his room is just as good as his car’s. You could bet a thousand dollars (maybe a little less, considering the unconventionalism that characterizes him) that he also had a few plants that only remembered to water three out of seven days of the week. 

Hopefully life would draw you closer to more people like him.

"How's your boyfriend doing?" Chaeryeong asks you from the kitchen counter, sweet popcorn cooking in you popcorn-maker. 

You sigh. "What boyfriend?"

She was a lot of things but oblivious, and you weren't either, just when you chose to be. "Cut the bullshit, you know who i'm talking about". The fake red head waits for your response as she pours the snack into a big bowl, and you on the other hand take this as an advange to search around the room for answers.

"He's just a friend" you say. "And he's fine, i guess… He doesn't really talk much about himself" you mention, matter of factly.

Chaeryeong nods beside you, understanding what you meant. Then, proceeds to tell a tale about her experience meeting the dark haired boy. "He's literally so quiet, but like, so incredibly kind. Once he tripped over and fucked up some of the decoration at an award show" she grabs a popcorn and continues her story. "He looked so panicked I thought his eyes were about to jump out their sockets — His eyes are huge, by the way." 

"I know" you smile.

"My point is, he started to help the staff put everything back in order again. I think he's the only idol I've ever seen do something like that… i decided i liked him then" her beautiful features light up with mischief. "I bet he fucks great too."

You slap her leg. Hard.

"I'm only telling you this now so you don't get caught of guard when he actually manages to fuck you," her soft hands run through your messy hair, motherly touches easing the fluster in your body. "You know he's a big whore, right?" She adds after a while. 

You didn't. According to Chaeryeong, who seemed to keep tabs on every single colleague of hers, Jungkook had quite the body count, not that you didn't have your suspicions before. Frankly, she only knew of two girls inside her company who had had some sort of situationship with him, but for the same reason, she also knew he had some history with other girls from different groups. "Yikes" you laugh nervously, in admiration of their ability to remain calm and collected without giving anything away to the public.

Thanks to your friend, you had heard lots of tea about other singers in the korean industry before, most of which were not as sweet or kind as they portrayed themselves to be, some even using their social status to get their way with girls. But for some reason, Jungkook had never made his way to your gossipping sessions, nor any other of his band mates (except for Jimin, who, if you remember correctly, used to have some sort of beef with one of Chaeryeong's company members). You guess it was because of his unproblematic nature that people chose to give him a pass for his sexual endeavors, not that they were of anyone's concern either. 

A knock is heard against your office door. "Miss _____?" A girl with a brown bob cut pokes her head through it, the dim lights of your office shining upon her incredibly healthy locks. "Jungkook asked me to deliver this to you" sliding completely into the room, she places a box with a note on it on your desk.

"Thank you so much" you wave her off as she walks right out. 

The package had a strawberry flavored canned tea and a bento box inside. 

"I remember you telling me you'd never tried tofu pancakes before, so I made some for you last night. Hope you enjoy! - JK

P.S. Text me when you're done, maybe we can hang out tonight."

You felt like crying, in all honesty. The pancakes were heavenly, and he even added some slices of avocado and a few scoops of rice for you, despite not being the biggest fan of the fruit himself. With a warm heart and relief washing over your body because you wouldn't have to waste money on lunch that day, you had had half of your meal before said boy gave you a call.

"Did you like them?" He said almost immediately. "My assistant told me she already delivered them to you" he adds in a rush.

"Jesus boy, calm down." You giggle at his excitement. "Let me eat in peace".

"No, tell me right now." he demands with a fake angry voice. Cutie.

"They're alright".

"Figured… you have no sense of taste anyways" the hangs up. A giggle escapes your lips. Boy was something else.

Later that day, the weekend started it's course. Jungkook had offered to drive you to the Han River, careful to mention the fact he prepared a bunch of snacks for you two just about five times during your call. The place was almost empty, given that the rest of the city was doing something else more fun than staring at the night sky while sitting on itchy grass. Yet, you wouldn't change the setting for anything else. Usually, when you and Jungkook were out, he'd be in silent wary of your surroundings and the people who could be watching you. It broke your heart, knowing that most of the time he couldn't frequent places most regular people had the pleasure of enjoying, like the movies, for example, or a food stand in the middle of the street. Still, in that moment, the handsome man in front of you seemed as relaxed as ever, munching on grapes and strawberries as he sat in silence beside you. 

"This blanket is so soft, isn't it?" he commented all of a sudden, caressing the fabric with his hand. The thing was made out of polar fleece, no shit. You just nodded and grabbed a piece of fruit from his container. "One of my friends gifted it to me on my birthday" he adds.

"I know. It was me".

"Well, maybe you do have a sense of taste after all" he complies as he lays down on the surface, eyes facing the night sky above you.

"Says the one who uses toe socks" you say back, poking his weak spot.

Instead of going back and forth with you as he usually would, he just winks and closes his eyes. He looked so peaceful and serene beneath you, features carefully carved on his face and slightly blushed cheeks from the cold wind. Jungkook was like that, randomly over confident and flirty with you, but just as quickly would refrain from even disagreeing with you in the first place, scared that you would snap at him. He hadn't told you this, but the way you saw thoughts hidden in his eyes whenever you made a statement let you know his true intentions, leaving you to wonder where that came from.

"Are you tired?" You ask after a few minutes. Still with his eyes closed, Jungkook denies.

"I just don't want to look at you right now," he turns to the side, back facing you as an offended expression finds its way to your face.

"Yah" you slap his back playfully, not letting him finish.

"Because you look too pretty." he mumbles the remnants of  his statement.

Your breath catches in your throat as a shiver climbs its way down your spine. Why was he like that? He had no right tugging on your heart strings like that (if he was being serious in the first place because you never knew with him). You sigh, the blush his words provoked stinging your cheeks.

"You're supposed to say I'm pretty too" he turns around with a playful smile, expectant.

"You just go around giving compliments so you can get them back?" you hiss. "Why so insecure?"

"I'm not insecure, at all." He sits up again, ready to fight you and anyone who dares question the grandiosity of the confidence he had worked so hard for. "You can ask Linh about that".

To say you looked horrified was an understatement, hopeful that what you thought he meant was not it. "You fucked Linh?"

"Well, that's not for you to know". 

What a gentleman, you think. And at the same time, ouch. He had just slammed a door on your face.

"That would explain the way she looks at you whenever you come by the office" you realize. Frankly, the girl looked a bit too panicked whenever Jungkook decided to barge into your space, usually bored out of his mind during his english lessons, laptop and notebook in hand, or struggling to get the questions right. 

"Well good afternoon to you too" you ironically greeted once he sat in front of you, frustration written on his face. Linh, who stood by your side, suddenly fidgeting with the papers in her hand.

"Not the time, _____" he slammed both hands on your desk, startling you and your friend beside you. "Why the fuck did you make me enroll into this in the first place?" 

"I did not make you do anything, dude. I just gave you an idea" you excused yourself, eyes back on your computer. You didn't miss the way Jungkook's eyes briefly followed Linh out the room, though. 

His eyes looked back at you, leg bouncing impatiently on the floor as he leaned back with a pissed off expression on his face. You'd never seen him this way, so you took that as a cue to enter under paid therapist mode. "What's wrong?" You questioned gently.

"I feel incredibly incompetent right now." His hands roamed across his face with frustration. A sigh escaped his lips as he held tears back. "School's always been this way for me, always trying my best and constantly underachieving" he explained.

He was obsessed with winning, you’d even go as far to say more than he was with his job (which was a lot). It didn’t root from narcissistic behaviour though, but rather out of external pressure to constantly overachieve and exceed expectations. He was mostly good at doing that, but everyone had an achilles heel, yours was reading for example, his was studying and school.

"Jungkook, you passed most of your classes with more than 90%, what are you talking about?" a fact he had brought up to you randomly when you mentioned absolutely nearly failing most of your literature classes.

"Yeah, except for English." he shook his head in the way he would when he'd feel conflicted or insecure. "I don't know what i'm doing wrong".

"Did you fail something?" you tried to get some more insight into the situation, still unsure of where all his worries came from.

"No, there's just this sentence I can't properly put together" he turned his notebook towards you. "Ah, just look"

There were some words he had to conjugate and properly place in order to form a grammatically correct sentence, more than five attempts written in neat penmanship on the page evidenced the boy's battle with the assignment. He missed one very important aspect of it, though. "There's a fucking word that's missing, dude" you explain, grabbing the pen from his hand and showing him where the mistake was. "It's not your fault, it's the teacher's".

Jungkook's serious expression didn't go away though. "Well, damn".

You had some sort of emotional trauma with having people ask you for help, it made you think that they didn’t actually care for you as a person but rather just your skills. That was the way you’d grown up and what your position in society seemed to be as well, the one you could butter up and taste when you got bored. Heart had been broken many times too, whenever you’d realize what you thought to be a genuine connection was merely pure interest. Those thoughts clouded your head when Jungkook would randomly enter your office with a frustrated expression on his face, yet, that occurred less often than it didn’t. 

Jungkook was not someone to establish relationships and bonds out of interest, you knew that. Or maybe not, truth be told, he was an authentic enigma, so open yet so closed and shielded from others to see through, and that didn’t exclude you most of the time, hence your wish for him to let you in a bit more before you could allow yourself to free fall into whatever was going on between you both.

You reach for the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his sleeve with your fingers just because you really liked the color of it, and maybe because you wanted to feel closer to him. He doesn’t react to your touch, just looks at your hands briefly as they play with the edges of his clothing. “Where did you get this from?”

“An online store, I think.” he replies softly, reaching for your hand on his arm, caressing the surface of your nails. “It’s a unisex brand, i can send you their link afterwards.”

“Is it too expensive?” you inquire, not only to keep the moment afloat, but because you genuinely liked most of his pieces of clothing, especially his hoodies and shoes. Jungkook laughs at your question and looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t think i would know, ____. I’m rich.” he says, playfully. And he was right, what was expensive for you might just be cheap as fuck for him, you wonder if when a lot of money is in your hands you start to become very tuned out from what’s affordable or not anymore.

“True.”

“I can buy you one, though. I don’t mind.” he adds. Soft look in his eyes, a pure and genuine offer that you had to deny.

“I didn’t say i wanted one” you lie, only partially, because although you’d not mentioned it, you did actually want it. “I just think it’s pretty” you finally let go of him.

“Or do you think I look pretty in it?” he pushes, a sucker for compliments.

“Yeah, that might be it.” you admit, because there was no point in denying your irrefutable attraction to the man, as much as you hated to be vulnerable, especially in front of him.

“I think it would look prettier on you”.

Don´t copy or repost please. by studiojeon on tumblr.

[miekasa]

mie….could we please get college au eren headcanons👉🏽👈🏽

Of course. I’m always thinking about his big head anyway <33 might as well put it good use.

One thing he learned in college is how to make his hyperfocus/fixation episodes work for him; that’s why he schedules all his classes as close together as possible. He’d rather have class back to back for 5 hours, than have it spread out with hours in between lectures, because that increases his changes of cutting.

You can always tell when he’s in class and/or what class he’s in by how much he responds to your messages. If he doesn’t text back at all, he’s in a class that hard or one he enjoys, or both. But if he’s sending you iMessage games, then you know he’s in his elective that he couldn’t care else about (and is probably cheating in someway somehow lmfao). 

He usually puts his phone on dnd when he’s in a class that’s important, but you’re in his favorite contacts, so your messages always ring through. What if it’s an emergency and you need him for something? Advanced Roots of Human Biology can wait. 

Some days there are one or two our breaks between his lectures, that’s just how the scheduling works out. When that happens, he usually sneaks into one of your lectures, or goes to your place to take a nap. Your roommates have become accustomed to him, honestly they’ve been considering giving him a key. 

Once, he didn’t realize that your lecture was basically a seminar, with you, the prof and maybe six other students. He still stayed lmao, and the prof was so amazed by his dedication, that she didn’t even mind. Occasionally, you’ll catch the two of them talking after lecture. It’s pretty cute the way she’s adopted him into the class even tho he’s not on the roster. 

You... have to show him where the library is lmfao. He genuinely has not stepped foot in one until you bring him to one. He likes it tho lmao once he gets used to it. 

Speaking of which, do not give him standard directions to find your classes on campus because all you’ll get is, “Babe, I’m gonna keep it real with you, I’ve never heard of the ‘West Quad’ a day in my life. What building are you near.”

He usually comes to see you in the library after all his lectures are done for the day. Sometimes he does homework, sometimes he’s just fucking around on his computer, sometimes he’s just bothering you. When you have to leave to go to class, he stays behind to watch your stuff so you don’t have to pack everything up and come back. 

Very protective when it comes to keeping your seat for you. No, you cannot take that chair to your table you good for nothing freshman; it’s reserved for you. 

He’ll drag you out of the library if you’ve been cooped up all day, tho. Eren will use his height and his strength against you to get you up. Placates you with kisses when he sees your angry expression, and promises to buy you food.

He takes your backpack for you when you’re walking together,m. His backpack is frustratingly light all the time, even during midterms. You swear all he’s got in there is a pencil and some flashcards. 

If you have night classes, he sticks around to walk you home after, especially in the winter when it gets dark faster. If he’s not already on campus, he’ll walk/drive back to meet you; he just doesn’t like you going home alone. Even if your friend/roommate is in the class with you, Eren will walk or drive the both of you home for his own sanity. 

He plays sports, so he usually has practice most evenings, but he’ll find a way to make time. If practice was particularly brutal, he’ll probably crash at your place.

He loves it when you come to meet him after practice. His whole face lights up and he waves obnoxiously, before he gathers up his stuff and all but sprints towards you. You get a cold water bottle to the face, or a bit of water splashed on you usually, which he takes immense amusement in. 

He knows it’s not possible for you to make it to all of his games, and usually it doesn’t bother him much; you’ve got your own life, and work to worry about. All he asks is that you wear his jersey, or any item of his sports apparel/merch on game day (he’s partial to hoodies).

By the time junior year rolls around, he’s not all that interested in attending parties that aren’t hosted by your friends; so, unless it’s at Connie, Jean, or Reiner and Bertholdt’s place, Eren will usually decline. Even team parties, he’s not crazy about unless it’s to celebrate a championship or something. He’d much rather celebrate with you. 

He does get excited about hosting parties though, and he and Jean become pretty damn good co-hosts. They don’t throw ragers, and that’s probably why Eren likes it so much. It’s usually your friend group and a couple plus ones, some good music, games, weed, and take-out. 

He’ll buy you coffee whenever you ask for it. The first time, he just orders something plain, not really knowing the difference between anything; but give it two or three tries, and he’ll get it perfect. He becomes so good that he can order you something new/different and you’ll love it. 

That’s kind of the start of his own coffee addiction, and more often than not, when he buys you a cup, he’s on his second or third of the day himself. The flavor has really grown on him, okay. 

He much prefers your apartment, but on occasion, he’ll ask you to come to his. You’ve been studying for so long, a change of environment should do you good, he claims. He’s a fucking liar tho because that’s all Eren Talk for “I do genuinely want you to come over, but my plans are to coerce you out of doing your assignments and doing me instead.”

Lmfao he adds you on Apple Watch Rings just so you can see him close his rings every day and laugh at you. Even if yours get closed by virtue of walking around campus or working out or whatever, his numbers are stupidly high because he fucking has practice at least 4 days of the week. 

Of course when you’re running on a soccer field for 2 hours every day, you close your Move Ring five times, Eren. Leave the rest of us alone. 

He buys you guys matching accessories for your keychains. It’s something pretty cute, and slightly random, but it reminded him of you. It also serves as a reminder to himself to take his fucking keys with him when he leaves his house. 

He sleeps like a fucking rock, so do not let him fall asleep in the library. Waking him up is a mission, and he’s never happy to be woken up. He looks kinda cute tho. 

He schedules dates for you and his friends. Usually by accident, but hear me out. Sometimes he’ll make plans with Armin, then forget that he has class or a test or something; so his solution is to text you, “hey, i forgot min and i were supposed to go some aquarium tomorrow but i have a midterm so here’s the pdf of my ticket, go with him for me, thanks babe love u” then, boop, you and Armin have an aquarium date Friday evening. 

The same thing happens with Mikasa, though, she usually catches the scheduling conflict before Eren does, and invites you out herself. You and Mikasa hang out quite a bit anyway, so it comes to the point where she tells you when she’s gonna hang out with Eren, so you can make yourself free for when he inevitably remember he has a game that day. 

Mikasa is most amazed that you’ve put up with Eren this long lmao. You’ve certainly lessened her Eren & Armin babysitting hours, and for that she’s eternally grateful. Also, she’s just happy to have another close friend. She loves Eren and Armin, but they’re not the most social beings, and she was literally their only friend besides the other for all their childhood PLEASE she’s so happy you’re around. 

It’s Mikasa, however, who babysits you and Eren whenever you both get too drunk. Says you guys are two peas in a pod (affectionate<2)

If you tell Eren something important that happened, like an internship you got, or a good grade in a class, or something, he usually relays that information to his mom pls. He texts her every day, and if she doesn’t ask for an update on you first, he gives her one.

Carla calls you sometimes, too. At least once every few weeks, just to check on you herself. She really likes you for Eren, and is grateful someone is willing to put up with her hotheaded son. 

Eren’s always using your fucking chapstick. Always. You know he has his own, so why he needs to use yours is beyond you. Finds time to make some dumbass comment about how it’s an “indirect kiss” every time he uses it too. Like bro, we’re dating, and have had many direct kisses why are you like this.

He posts on Instagram every few weeks or so, but you’re on his story every few days. Usually, it’s just a video of you minding your business and doing your work while Eren slowly zooms in before making some loud noise to surprise you, all so he can get your reaction on video and laugh at it. He’s annoying. 

He’s a bit of a copycat when it comes to the products you use. He’ll buy the same brand of pens as you (for that matter, all of his school supplies mirror yours because what does he know about the difference between A4 and A5 notebooks?), put a little hand sanitizer on his backpack like yours (and a lotion, too, for good measure), he even copies your Starbucks order until he finds one he likes for himself. It’s one of his love languages <3

If you’re wondering where your eyelash curler went, Eren stole it to try it on himself, hurt himself, vowed to never use it again, went back because he wanted to “do it right and not give up,” liked the results when he didn’t pinch his eyelid, and now it’s his. 

That being said, stop trying to put your Fenty lipgloss on him, it’s never going to happen. Eye makeup, maybe, only if you sit in his lap and he can have his hands on your ass while you do it. 

What he does love is letting you do his skincare. He will set aside dedicated skincare nights, he adores it. Easily one of his favorite things ever. 

You have his wallet. Not because he’s your sugar daddy or anything (although, if you want something, he’d definitely let you use his card to get it; and even if you bought something without asking, he wouldn’t think twice about it), but because he put it in your bag once and never took it out. 

When you tried to give it back, he just shook his head and told you to keep it, “I have my ID in my phone case anyway, and you’re less likely to lose it. Plus I put all my cards on Apple Pay, so I’m good.”

When you do make it to a game of his, he’s all over you when it’s over. Not in a cocky athlete boyfriend kind of way; in a very sleepy boyfriend kind of way. He’s usually got ice on at least one part of his body, and he’s got half his body weight on you as you walk to the car. 

By the time you guys get back to your place, he’s practically sleep walking. The only thing on his mind is taking a hot shower to soothe his muscles, and heading to bed. The aftermath of game days aren’t all that bad though, because even if you didn’t show, you’re always there to kiss him when he’s home and massage his shoulders, and cuddle him to sleep; and that’s his favorite part.