#two years and i have writing and getting on to tumblr's helped me learn things and also sent me spiralling into three separate

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

#loose ends #the loose ends project #joy knits #text #long post #knit #knitting #crochet #crocheting #craft #crafting #diy #crochetblr #yarnblr #yarn #knitblr

[wttcsms]

angels like you can't fly down here with me (i'm everything they say i would be), megumi fushiguro ;

pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 11k  synopsis people like him don't get happy endings but megumi fushiguro (foolishly) considers himself to be the exception — after all, he has you. content contains yakuza au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, breeding kink, slight daddy kink, attempted sa, minor violence & depictions of blood author's note if ur on my ao3, you know this is from 2021!!! my writing has changed up since then, but i'm going to be releasing a revised version of this which will be rewritten and feature more scenes, more worldbuilding, more plot, relationship and character development, etc!! i figured releasing this on tumblr would help me gauge how worthwhile revision of this fic will be, so lmk if u like this au & want to see it become even better <3

Don’t do it.

He repeats the command inside his head again, and then one more time for good measure. (And then another time, just to drive the point across.)

He won’t — can’t; isn’t really allowed to — get into (another!) fight.

(Well, there’s a part of Megumi that knows that despite Gojo’s sing-songy warning of “now, now, Megumi, I don’t need a frequent visitor’s card for the principal’s office”, he doesn’t actually care. All he’s really concerned about — if the mild interest the reckless teenager turned legal guardian shows can even be called that — is whether or not Megumi wins.

And he does.

Every. Single. Time.)

For the most part, Megumi Fushiguro is fairly stoic in general, but to a concerning degree when one accounts for the fact that he’s only ten years old. For the odd three or so years he’s been under Gojo’s wing, Megumi’s mask of disinterest stopped becoming a mask and started becoming a part of him.

(Try as he might, Gojo’s not nearly as funny as he thinks he is. Maybe the connection between them might have been stronger if Gojo was a bit more responsible and if he was actually present, but he’s got his own shit to deal with. Besides, Gojo’s under the impression that what he’s doing isn’t cruel, but rather a means to an end. Megumi’s never going to be able to get stronger if he doesn’t learn how to survive on his own.

After all, being alone and having to fight to survive is the life people like them live.)

The older preteens in the area have a bad habit of picking on the younger students. Because the elementary and middle schools are so close together, the younger students who have the misfortune of walking alone tend to be targets for bullies in need of pocket change or a good laugh. Most of the time, they get both.

As of late, everyone’s favorite target happens to be Megumi Fushiguro, the boy with the messy black hair and indifferent attitude, even when confronted by boys two years his senior and almost a whole entire head taller than him.

Last week, Megumi gave the three older boys dumb enough to harass him for money bloody noses, bruised egos, and a thirst for revenge. That was the first (and supposed to be the last) time he got into a fight (for this school year, at least — something Gojo had told him, while winking). So, even when the trio is back together again, taunting him and trying to get him to take the first swing, Megumi keeps walking forward with his perpetual look of disinterest, those cold blue eyes of his staring straight at the path ahead of him, never paying any mind to the gangly bodies of the middle school boys who keep trying to block him from moving.

Don’t do it.

He tells himself this once more. You don’t want to have to inconvenience Gojo. Then, you’ll be stuck listening to him pretend to lecture you. You don’t like spending too much time with Gojo. He’ll make weird jokes. 

The thought of having to deal with Gojo’s presence is enough to get Megumi to unclench his fists.

“Move.”

It’s the first thing he says to the group since they started following him after school. He tells the boy with the brown hair this. The brunet seems to be their ringleader of sorts, and even as nothing more than a ten year old child, Megumi knows that being twelve/thirteen and harassing little kids for sport is a sign of patheticness that will only grow and fester into something darker unless someone beats some sense into them. Obviously, they didn’t learn their lesson from last week.

“Huh? What the hell did ya just say, ya little brat?” The brown haired boy sneers, looking down at Megumi.

School has just let out, so there are dozens of kids of all ages walking down the sidewalk. They’re all aware of the situation happening, but everyone chooses to turn a blind eye to it. Partly because this is such a common occurrence that it just starts to become something that blends into the scenery, but also because there are some rumors surrounding the Fushiguro kid that’s enough to make anyone with a heart of gold reluctant to come to his rescue.

The main rumor circulating around the school is that Megumi Fushiguro has ties to the yakuza. Granted, most kids his age have no idea what the yakuza is, and even those who somewhat know only know through exaggerated definitions from their older siblings. Generally, everyone just accepts the fact that the yakuza is bad, and by default, Megumi Fushiguro must be bad too. Older siblings tell their younger siblings to avoid “that boy” at all costs, unless they want to end up with a finger cut off. Megumi’s classmates huddle together and conveniently choose to look everywhere else but at him when on the playground.

For anyone else, this might have been enough to cause some hurt feelings. Everyone thinks the boy must be some type of stupid to be so oblivious to the rumors centered around him, but the truth is this: Megumi is well aware of what people whisper about behind his back; he just doesn’t care enough to prove them wrong.

And they’re not wrong, anyway.

(For some parts of the rumors, at least.)

Because it’s true — Megumi does have ties to the yakuza. His father, who he can’t seem to attach neither a name nor a face to, must have done something bad. Something bad enough to have him cross paths with Satoru Gojo, the young head of the Gojo Clan, one of Tokyo’s most prominent crime families. It’s the same Gojo who decided to adopt both Megumi and his stepsister, Tsumiki, despite having nothing (so far) to gain from it. After all, why would a teenager willingly assign himself the responsibilities of caring for small children — one who resembles the man that tried to kill him and the other being an ill little girl confined to a hospital bed for who knows how long. All Gojo gets from this deal is a headache, bills, and more problems than necessary.

Megumi’s not really sure how the rumors started in the first place. He thinks it’s because kids his age are easily influenced and have a tendency to run wild with their imaginations. With the rising popularity of gangs from the high school students, this interest seems to have trickled all the way down to the elementary levels. Megumi certainly fits the description of their idea of someone from the yakuza: silent, secretive, scary.

(If they were a little bit older, maybe they would have just seen him as an introvert.)

No matter how ridiculous the rumors get, though, it doesn’t change the fact that the root of them is true: he is connected to the yakuza. After all, he’s being primed and prepped to be someone of value in the clan. Once you’re tied with the likes of them, you might as well just resign to the knot fate’s trapped you with. He’s learned quickly that the only thing harder than getting into the yakuza is getting out.

And because his sister’s and his life both depend on him doing as he’s told, getting out is a funny pipe dream at best and the Fushiguro siblings’ cause of death at worst.

“I told you to move. You’re blocking my way.” Megumi’s tone of voice betrays nothing. Annoyance, maybe, but he speaks flatly regardless of how he’s truly feeling. Gojo says it’s kinda creepy. Gojo also says that being a little creepy isn’t bad.

(Gojo should know; he’s a certified creep in Megumi’s eyes.)

“Oh — so the little boy can speak up.” The boy with blond hair laughs. It’s a nasally sound that grates Megumi’s ears.

He’s not an idiot. Megumi is well aware of the fact that no matter how much he feels like it isn’t true, he’s still just a little ten year old boy. He should be playing with the toy cars Gojo bought him, not worrying about the gritty future that lies ahead. But still, the phrase rubs him the wrong way.

Little boy.

He wasn’t so little when he kicked them down to his height before properly bashing their faces, now was he? Even now, he can feel the anger coming up. He clenches his fists, wondering if he’ll get suspended for fighting right next to school property.

“Leave him alone.”

Another voice appears, but not from any of the boys. No — this time, it’s coming from a little girl on the sidewalk across from theirs. Everyone involved turns to stare at the source of such a command and are greeted with the sight of you with a Hello Kitty backpack. You’ve got a frown on your face that doesn’t match the brightness of your pink outfit.

Megumi recognizes you instantly. You’re in the same class as him. You were in the same class as him last year, too. He tilts his head, trying to figure out what exactly it is you’re trying to accomplish here — and why.

He knows his social standing in the school. If he’s at the bottom, you’re right at the top. A beaming pillar of light, everyone flocks to you like moths after a flame. But you’re alone today, not surrounded by the usual crowd of boys and girls who are often vying for your attention. Seeing you alone enables him to see you more clearly, without all the distractions getting in his way.

You’re small. Shorter than him, and way shorter than the middle school boys. You’ve got a bow in your hair and brand new shoes on your feet. If anybody should be socially aware, it has to be you. Those at the top, Megumi knows, like to remind everyone of their placement. You shouldn’t be here. You should be ignoring him like he’s got the plague, just like everyone else.

All three of the boys start to laugh after sizing you up. The laughter only serves to make you even more irritated, but you can’t speak because one of them is already talking through his laughs.

“Don’t tell me. Is this your girlfriend?”

The group erupts into more laughter, and while Megumi’s expression remains the same as it’s been for the past few minutes, yours only shows your growing contempt.

“She’s no one.” Megumi throws you an odd look, one of neither annoyance nor gratitude for trying to help him out. He uses your presence as a distraction, and he manages to take a few more steps before one of the boys is yanking him back by his bookbag.

“Grab her.” One of the boys says, and the third boy, the one with the messy red hair, starts to cross the street.

Megumi watches as you stay right where you are. Are you stupid? Why won’t you run? The boy still has a solid grip on his bookbag, keeping him in place. He wonders if it’ll be a waste of his breath if he tells you to start running — you probably wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

But then Megumi figures out why you don’t look too frightened, because not even a second before the older boy manages to cross the street to your side of the sidewalk, a man in a suit is running towards you, a scowl on his face.

“You said you were going to the restroom, young lady!” The man scolds you while panting for breath. He surveys the scene, looking at you, and then the middle school boy by your side before turning his head and seeing Megumi in between the other two boys. “What’s going on? Is everything alright? Did they do anything to you?”

“No, Mr. Higashi. B-but—“ Your bottom lip starts to tremble, and even though Higashi is certain that the tears about to fall are fake, the situation itself looks serious enough to the point where he doesn’t call you out on it. “Th-these boys are being really mean.” You let out a high pitched wail that makes the boy let go of Megumi’s bookbag. “They just threatened to attack me and my friend out of nowhere.”

“Your father will be informed.” Higashi frowns, eyeing the guilty boys who look confused and a little shocked at this turn of events. “Mr. [Surname] certainly won’t be pleased to hear about this.”

The middle school boys pale when they hear the man name drop your family’s surname.

After all, it’s the same last name that’s engraved on plaques all over the school, thanking your family for the many donations they’ve received.

You enter into Megumi’s life that way: unexpectedly. He never thanked you for intervening, but it’s not like you did it for the thanks anyway. You did it, you tell him, because you figured he needed some help.

“I had it handled.” He tells you flatly. “Why are you even sitting here? Your friends keep staring at us.”

It’s true. Stories of what happened are already circulating around both schools, and while all your friends spent the whole entire day pestering you for the full story, you chose to keep quiet about the situation. And now, here you are, choosing to sit and eat lunch with Megumi, someone who also knows the true story of what went down but the only one people aren't brave enough to ask.

Your whole entire table of friends keep their heads huddled together as they go back and forth with each other, every one of them sparing glances at Megumi’s table. It makes the rice in his mouth taste stale. He should have just stayed in the classroom to eat, especially if he knew you would be bothering him.

“Gee, is that any way to treat a friend?” You huff, not at all actually annoyed with him.

“We’re not friends.”

“Too late. I told my dad we were.”

There has been one question on his mind ever since that incident. Just who exactly is your father? He’s not stupid; he knows that you must come from a wealthy family. If the buildings and auditorium named after your family isn’t enough proof, the fact that you always have the latest toys, the nicest shoes, the cutest stationery sets — that’s material proof of a spoiled princess.

You continue speaking, and as if you can read his mind, you’re already answering his question. “My daddy’s called a CEO. But the man you saw is Mr. Higashi. He takes care of me when dad’s away at work, and everything I do gets typed up in a report that dad sees every day. He wasn’t happy about what happened, so he says the boys will get in trouble. He told us not to worry, though.” You have a pleased smile on your face, waiting for Megumi to say something in reply.

“Okay.” He says, after a while. He only spoke because it seemed like you were waiting for him to. “It doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

“What’s so wrong about being friends with me?” You tilt your head. Everyone wants to be friends with you. And that’s before they even figure out that you live in a real life mansion with actual servants, and that sometimes you’re allowed to eat dessert for dinner. Even without the wealth, you still draw people in, whether it be with your bright smile or cheery attitude.

“Don’t you already have enough friends?” He can’t figure out what you could possibly want with him. Even though Gojo’s got the backing of the clan and enough funds to run the Tokyo underground with cash to spare, it’s not like Megumi is in a position to take advantage of it. Gojo hands him a thick wad of cash every week with a tip to “spend wisely, hehehehe”, and Megumi takes the tip to heart. A majority of the money sits saved in his bedroom, underneath a floorboard he spent a week trying to figure out how to loosen without anyone catching on. (Which was actually easy whenever he realized that nobody seems to really watch him to begin with.) So, he doesn’t look like he has money, and isn’t that what all rich kids want? To surround themselves with equally rich kids?

“I guess.” Your bubbly mood seems to dampen a bit at the mention of the other kids. They like you, sure. But they like each other a lot more. The gap between you and the other kids isn’t noticeable at first, but the novelty of having an endless supply of company has lost its luster. Meanwhile, the glamor of your life only keeps the hoards of “friends” to grow as the days go by. It’s always “let’s have a sleepover at [Names]’s!” or “[Name], we have to go to your house because you have the best toys!”. You wonder if they like you, or the shiny things that they get when they’re with you. “But, it’s not like youhave any friends.”

“I don’t need any.” The response is quick — instinctual. Gojo, even if not the greatest guardian by any parental standards, still presses Megumi to have a proper (or, as proper as it can be) childhood.

(“You know, I don’t care if you bring any friends over. Just make sure no one ends up accidentally getting shot, okay, Megumi?”

Yeah, because that’s definitely gonna push him towards throwing as many parties as he wants.)

People in his position don’t have many friends. It’s hard to, he assumes, because of all the killings and betrayals and power plays.

(And, he’ll soon learn that it hurts a lot less to lose an enemy than it does a friend.)

“Hmm. Okay.”

But you don’t get up from your seat, and he doesn’t tell you to move.

The next day, you’re carrying two bento boxes. The lunches are prepared for you by world class chefs and everything is done in a rather cutesy manner to entice you into not wasting your food. The fruit is cut into pretty shapes, the food has picks with animals on them, and everything is colorful and to your own personal tastes.

You take a seat next to him once again. He looks up for a second, sees that it’s you, and returns back to his meal that looks pitiful in comparison. Leftover rice and some cold meat. You think it’s the same thing he had last time.

“For you.” You slide the second bento you had requested towards him before opening up your own.

“What’s this for?”

“For you to eat, silly.”

“...How much?”

“Huh? All of it, I guess? If you don’t like something, tell me, and I’ll request something different tomorrow.” You don’t quite understand what he’s asking you.

“No. How much does it cost? I'll bring you the money tomorrow.”

“Why would it cost you?” Now you’re really confused.

Didn’t anyone ever teach you that everything comes attached with a price? If it’s not money you want, it must be something else. At least, if Megumi’s judgments are right. (And they usually are.)

“Fushiguro, I brought you this because I want you to eat well and grow strong.”

He wonders what rice shaped like Hello Kitty has to do with his strength.

“Also, so the next time people give you or me trouble, you can fight them, okay?”

Oh. So it’s protection you want. He contemplates what he thinks your request is before popping a piece of food into his mouth. A meal made with care — he can taste the thought that’s been put into it. Shoving his old lunch to the side, he quickly starts eating at the one you brought him.

Okay. So maybe he does accept your offer.

“Meguuuumi.” You whine out his name, messing up the navy sheets of his bed while he sits at his desk, trying to finish his application for university. “I’m bored.”

“Good. Go to your own house then, and leave me alone.”

“You’re so mean to me.” You sigh, turning your head so that half of your face is pressed against his pillow. The scent of his shampoo still sticks to the fabric, and you subconsciously inhale the scent some more. It’s familiar and reminds you of him, your favorite person in the world.

No one believes you when you tell them that Megumi is your best friend. No one wants to believe that it’s true. After all, the two of you look more like a shoujo manga trope than an actual pair of best friends. The cold, inexpressive dark haired male lead with a secretive past he doesn’t want anyone to know about and the bright, bubbly, ball of energy that is constantly clinging to his side. It’s like looking at night and day with you two.

“And yet, you’re still always here.”

You’re still by his side, even when the two of you reached middle school and high school together, and he spent a majority of his time starting (and finishing) fights.

(“Get off of him!” You screamed, yanking on the collar of one of the boys who happened to be trying to grab Megumi from behind. You don’t have the same amount of strength as them, but everyone at this point knows who you are and who exactly your father is. No matter what the origin of the fight is won’t matter; all that matters is that the precious daughter of one of Tokyo’s richest CEOs got caught in it, and that’s enough to get everyone involved into some deep shit.

Immediately, the boy scampers off, and the other boy Megumi was punching into the squeaky clean floors of the hallway begins to thrash around wildly, eyes wide at the sudden sight of you. Seeing you coming from behind Megumi is like watching the sun peek through a dozen storm clouds.

Megumi gives him one last punch, not nearly as satisfied as he thought he would be. Honestly, getting into fights with low level delinquents is beneath him. It’s not just his knuckles and clothes that are getting dirty; by feeding into the school’s image that he’s this young, violent yakuza heir, he’s dirtying the prestige Gojo claims is oh so important.

“Megumi.” He straightens up at the sound of your voice, which usually sounds so sweet, especially when it’s directed towards him. Instead, you have an uncharacteristic frown on your face and you sound… mad. “Let’s go.”

You’ve got a hand wrapped around his wrist, and people part when they spot the two of you making a hasty exit. The teachers aren’t bold enough to cause a scene with you, and the students know both you and Megumi are practically untouchable — one being the spoiled brat daughter of a rich and powerful businessman, the other, a ticking time bomb with ties to the yakuza.

You don’t stop walking until the two of you are in a secluded courtyard at the school. No one goes here, mainly because it’s in such an inconvenient location and there’s nothing but trees and weeds over growing it. The two of you found it within your first week of being here, and ever since then, it’s become your designated spot to avoid prying eyes.

“I thought you were over stupid fights. You told me yourself that they weren’t the type of people worth beating up.” You scold him, forcing him to take a seat on the bench that creaks under his weight. You make a noise as you inspect the drying blood on his knuckles.

If an outsider were to look at the scene before them, they would gape at the unbecoming sight of you on your knees, in between his legs, too close for a duo who claims to be “just good friends”. But there’s nothing inherently dirty in your thoughts. Instead, you’re staring thoughtfully at his hands, inspecting the minor damage done to them.

Megumi swallows hard as he looks down on you. He shouldn’t be feeling like this — you’re his best friend, his only friend. The only person who’s by his side. If you could read in his mind, there’s no doubt that you would be recoiling away from him in disgust…)

You’re still by his side, even when he told you the truth about himself after waiting years to see if you were truly his friend or not.

(“The rumors—” He starts to say, but you shush him, rolling over on your side to face him. The two of you are lying on the grass in your massive backyard, trying to spot a shooting star that’s supposed to be passing by at any second now.

“I don’t care about that.” You tell him. Middle school was a bitch to deal with, mainly because as everyone was in the process of growing up and “maturing”, so did the rumors they spread. Now, the two of you are halfway through your first week of high school. A new school, a couple of new classmates, and new rumors surrounding the odd pair.

“If I told you the rumors about me being someone you should avoid were true, would you be mad?” He’s lying on his back, still staring up at the night sky. He’s not turning to face you, almost as if he’s scared to look at you.

“Yes.” You answer without any hesitation. “At the person who’s spreading that around.” You clarify, poking him on his side to lighten the somber mood he’s setting. “You’re the only real friend I’ve had in forever, Megumi. I don’t think what anyone says about you would change that.”

“What if I did something bad?” Like kill a person. What then? What would you think of him if he told you the full truth: that Gojo told him that he can’t shield Megumi from the dirtier aspects of this type of life. That he’s spent hours after school, hours after hanging out with you and pretending to be a normal teenager, learning how to assemble, disassemble, and then reassemble a gun. That his target practice isn’t glass bottles lined up in a row or sheets printed out with human bodies. What happens if he told you that his target practice was low level scum from rival yakuza clans that Gojo couldn’t be bothered to kill himself?

“Mmm. How bad are we talking? Like, lied to me when you said my Christmas outfit looked good but half my ass was practically exposed bad or committing a felony bad?”

“What if I told you… that I really was a yakuza heir.”

The silence is palpable and especially soul crushing to Megumi as he waits for your reply.

“It wouldn’t matter to me, Megumi.” You say. You know that this isn’t just some type of hypothetical question he’s asking for fun. From his odd living situation to the intense nature of him in general to the fact that he knows practically everything about you, but you barely know the full extent of his childhood traumas despite growing up alongside him, you know deep in your heart that there has to be something going on with him. Something dark enough to harbor stories about him.

“Are you sure about that?”

You reach for his hand in the dark, finding it without really needing to look. He’s not one that’s prone to initiating physical contact, but you found out that he doesn’t really mind when you reach for him first.

“You can’t get rid of me, no matter how crazy or fucked up you think your life is.” You squeeze his hand, still staring at him.

You don’t notice the shooting star flying past the night sky, but Megumi is looking right at it. He knows what he’s wishing for.

For your words to be true.)

You’re still by his side, even when he brought you to his sister’s bedside. She’s sick, afflicted with something no one knows, not even the private doctors that Gojo’s spent millions on. She was still conscious, albeit confined to her bed when the two of you first met, but she’s been in a coma ever since the last year of middle school. You were by his side as he broke down about the news. It was the first time you’ve ever seen him cry.

So, no matter how much it may seem like he’s pushing you away, you don’t budge. For someone smaller than him and definitely weaker, you’re awfully resilient. And while people make the occasional joke, telling you to “blink twice if you need help”, you don’t pay any attention to them. If only they knew the truth: that you’ve got Megumi Fushiguro, heir to a massive yakuza clan, wrapped around your dainty finger.

He’s so whipped that he found himself asking Gojo for a rare favor.

(“College?” Gojo rubs the back of his neck, staring at Megumi. “I mean, I guess it’ll be good for you. Meet a wild party girl, take her to your dorm room, tame her—”

“An education is the whole point of attending, you know.” Megumi interrupts him before Gojo can jump into a story highlighting all of his sexual endeavors with college girls back in the day.

“Eh. I guess.” But then a grin lights up the feature of the man who [kind of/by definition] raised him. “But y’know what I know for a fact.” He wiggles his eyebrows, his glasses slipping down his nose as he tilts his head downwards. “You wanna follow [Name].”)

It doesn’t really matter if he’s not good enough to get into the university you’ve already received an early acceptance for. Because Gojo tries to make up for being an absent father figure, he fills in those empty spaces with cold, hard cash. All it takes is one nice donation, and Megumi’s wherever he wants to be.

Where he wants to be, he realizes, is to be by your side. Wherever you go, he’ll gladly follow. Funnily enough, despite the two vastly different backgrounds the both of you come from, you both have similar means of getting what you want.

Your father had already looked over the list of universities you had in mind, and all you could do was excitedly squeal and start rambling the moment the acceptance letters came in the mail. Despite the fact that your father’s physically absent from your life most of the time, he still tries to show he cares in the things he does for you. If paying off over half a dozen major universities in order to make you happy is something he has to do, he’ll do it without batting an eye.

It’s the same thing on Megumi’s end. Granted, Gojo’s means are more along the lines of using money as a lubricant and then death as an inevitable. Money talks, a gunshot to the head silences. Nobody can accuse anyone of taking bribes if said accused person is in a grave six feet under.

Sometimes, Megumi wonders how you’re just so oblivious to the fortunate circumstances in your life. You chalk up a lot of your father’s wishes as just “good luck”. In school, you’re placed on a pedestal, revered as some goddess-like, otherworldly being. People are practically tripping over themselves, running towards you for a crumb of your attention. Anyone sane would gladly wield this power and use it for all its worth. Not you, though. Not you, who’s kind and considerate and completely clean from the corruptness that plagues everyone else.

Megumi knows good and well that he’s not a hero — couldn’t be farther from it, if he’s being honest. He doesn’t feel a moral obligation to go out and rid the world of all evil. (It’d be hypocritical, he thinks, considering the fact that he’s most likely belonging under the evil category himself.) From a young age, he’s already known and come to terms with his fate. He’s going to train and learn from the best, and eventually, he will succeed as head of the clan. That is his purpose. That right there is the reason why he’s still alive today. That is why he can find himself sitting at his desk, submitting an application that’s already guaranteed to be followed up with an acceptance letter, ready to pretend for four more years that he’s normal.

“D’you think college will be fun?” You ask him, making yourself comfortable in his bed.

“No.”

You laugh at that. You like Megumi for a lot of reasons, and his honesty is one of them. Despite the fact that he likes to keep most of the darker details of his life to himself, you know that he would never lie to you. In a world full of people who are constantly lying, it gets tiring trying to figure out who’s real and who’s fake. It doesn’t help that you want to believe in everyone either. If you didn’t have Megumi loyally staying by your side all this time, you doubt you would have made it this far in your life without anyone taking advantage of you and your kindness.

“My dad said I can finally get a boyfriend when I go to college.” You say this fact so casually that Megumi almost — almost — gets fooled into believing that this is not a cause for concern. Almost.

“Oh.” He’s at a loss for words. He knows that it’s inevitable; that one day, you’ll find a guy you like and want to get closer to him. He knows that you’re not always going to be by his side, and he knows that it’s going to happen because he’ll have to push you away eventually. The older he gets, the deeper he’s burying himself into his grave. He doesn’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.

It’s not like boys have never tried approaching you before. People have spent years thinking that you and Megumi were a couple, and then after finding out from you that the two of you are nothing more than “best friends”, boys were still hesitant to talk to you. The glare Megumi would give them from behind your shoulder acted as a strong enough deterrent.

“I know. Now the only problem is finding a guy who’ll actually wanna date me.”

“They all will.” The words leave his mouth faster than he can even think about them. He’s not wrong, though. Every time the two of you are out in public together, he sees people shooting quick glances at you, at your ass, at your bright smile. The looks they give are predatory, dangerous, even. If it’s not your looks, it’s your shining personality that draws them all in. And if that’s not good enough, there’s always the enormous wealth attached to your last name. That’s the key to getting them to stay.

“You can be so sweet sometimes, you know that?” You giggle, glad that he’s still typing away on his laptop. If he were to look at you right now, he would see that you’re reacting way too positively to such a lackluster compliment. It’s not like he listed reasons on why anyone would ever want to date you, so he probably could just be complimenting you to make you happy.

(That’s just the excuse you’re going with. You know your best friend — that means you know that he would never say something he doesn’t truly think or believe.)

There’s a secret you’ve been keeping from him. A secret so big that you think you might’ve been keeping it from yourself, too. Something so big that your body simply can’t contain it any longer.

You like Megumi. 

Of course you do. You keep telling the whole world what great friends the two of you are. You talk to him about your dad all the time (which must mean he’s important, because you rarely get to speak to your dad, so you have to choose your topics of conversation wiseley). You trust him more than you trust yourself. Ever since middle school, you’ve been telling yourself that you liking Megumi isn’t anything to be ashamed or confused about. You like him because he’s your friend, and you’re supposed to like your friends.

And then you came to terms with the fact that you like Megumi beyond the borders of friendship.

It starts with you seeing him the way other girls must see him. You’re not blind, you know. It’s obvious that Megumi is far from ugly. If he wasn’t so intimidating, you’re sure he would have had his fair share of confessions, too. Megumi’s pretty, although calling him a pretty boy wouldn’t do his character justice. He’s got lashes people pay extensions for theirs to look like, and the prettiest dark blue eyes you’ve ever seen, and his hair, which he doesn’t put forth any type of effort in, always looks good whereas the same hairstyle would look messy on anyone else.

It’s not just his looks, though. Even if you look like the type of person who would judge others based on such shallow standards, you didn’t approach Megumi simply because he’s attractive. He’s… interesting. He’s got this reputation for being a delinquent, and maybe all the fights on his school record prove it, but he’s surprisingly respectful. He’s the type of guy who gets up from his seat to let an eldery woman have it. He loves animals. He’s honest and sweet despite his seemingly stoic nature, and he’s so oblivious to just how good he is.

Maybe it’s because he’s so blinded by the light that is you. You, with your cutesy bento boxes that used to be made by your team of personal chefs but are now made with your own manicured hands. You, with that bright smile of yours that he wants to always see because god — he thinks he would be willing to destroy the whole world if something were to ever make you so upset. You’re kind and beautiful and everything people write love songs about. You’re so good, and he’s nothing like you.

He’s nothing like you, because he highly doubts that you spend your time fantasizing about him like he does with you. It’s wrong, he thinks. And dirty, and disgusting, and vile. You’d hate him, he’s sure of it, if you knew what he thinks about late at night. That he sits on his bed with his cock pulled out from his shorts, leaking with precum as he strokes himself to the thought of you. Do you not see him as any other guy? Despite your lack of experience, surely you know just how dirty boys’ minds can be? You’ve got to be conscious of the fact that he’s any other guy, right? So, why — why — do you always roll around in his sheets, letting your sweet perfume stick to his sheets. Your tiny tops and skirts are always clinging tight to your body, and you never feel the need to readjust your clothing when it rides up. Do you not see him trying his hardest to look you in the eyes when the two of you are talking, despite the tantalizing sight of your skirt bunching up, exposing the smooth skin of your thighs?

Little does Megumi know (and if you have your way, he’ll never find out), you spend nights in your room, whining and trying to stuff your cunt with the same fingers that painstakingly made him his lunch. He’s your best friend since childhood. He looks at you like you’re an angel, and you don’t want to destroy that image by revealing just how dirty you really are. How every time he gets so close to you, you subconsciously bring your thighs together, trying to rub them together in a poor attempt to relieve some tension. He’d be disgusted with you, you’re sure of it. Maybe even betrayed.

Besides, it would never work out. Megumi doesn’t see you the way you see him. He might look at you with a soft look you’ve never seen him give anyone else, but that’s because you’re his only friend. It’s not like he’s harboring any hidden feelings for you, and just because you’re so convinced that there’s no one better than Megumi around, it doesn’t exactly mean that you won’t feel this way about anyone else.

Megumi’s got a rather monotone cadence with his voice, so you’re not too surprised by his seemingly unethusiatic response to you saying you’re now allowed to date. Still — there’s a slight pang of disappointment when you realize that he doesn’t sound jealous at the prospect of you dating someone else.

You decide right then and there that the healthiest thing to do now is to just bury your feelings for him deep inside your heart, to tightly pack in all those pesky feelings and store them away so you can make room to allow others to fill in his space.

gumi <3: where are you? gumi <3: i’m feeling tired and i have an assignment due tomorrow. i’m going home. gumi <3: you know i wouldn’t leave without you. cmon [name]. let’s leave now

Megumi frowns at his phone. He can clearly see that all his messages are being delivered, not to mention that he’s already called you twice and has been sent to voicemail twice. He can be patient when he wants to be, but right now, he’s getting a little pissed.

You know that he doesn’t like parties, and you know that he doesn’t hang out with the same people you do. He also knows that you don’t even really like most of the people you surround yourself with, so whyyou suddenly decided to do a 180 and reestablish your throne as the head of the social pyramid, he doesn’t know.

Lately, things between the two of you have been a little… weird. Sometimes he catches you staring at him with a sad smile on your face; one that you immediately replace with your usual one when you realize he’s looking right at you. Despite him asking you if everything’s okay, you vehemently deny that there’s anything wrong, and you’re quick to change the subject.

He thinks he’s losing his best friend, his only friend. And maybe it only hurts because he’s grown used to your presence in his life. Maybe it hurts because you’re his friend. But he knows the truth. It hurts because he’s losing you.

Did he do something wrong? Did he accidentally somehow reveal the extent of his feelings for you? Did you suddenly decide that maybe associating with someone like him isn’t something you’re meant for? Do you…

Do you hate him now?

It doesn’t matter. Maybe it does, but not right now. Right now, he’s more focused on getting the hell out of this stuffy ass living room, filled to the brim with drunken young adults and people he couldn’t care less about. The only person that matters right now is you, and he’s on a mission to find your location.

He’s got this ominous feeling in his gut, like something bad is about to happen. He’s Megumi Fushiguro, for fuck’s sake, so bad things have a habit of following him wherever he goes. But still, he’s made a personal promise to himself that no matter how bad things get, you’ll never get caught in the crossfire. He’s willing to die to keep that vow.

If you don’t reply to him, you most likely have a good reason. He doesn’t want to be clingy, is pretty damn certain he doesn’t even have a right to be, but he’s still worried about you. He’s pushing past the wall of sweaty bodies, trying to catch a glimpse of your hair color, the waft of your perfume, the familiarity of your laugh, but he can’t catch a single crumb of you anywhere.

You’re nowhere in sight, and he’s immediately filled with dread.

He yanks a guy who’s coming from upstairs.

“Ow, man, what the fuc—”

“Is anyone else up there?” Most of the time, the parties are restricted to just the first floor, with the unspoken rule being that only the upstairs should be used for people trying to fuck or to use the bathroom (or, people trying to use the bathroom to fuck). You’re not anywhere downstairs, and if you were simply using the restroom, you would have been back down here by now.

“Shit, I don’t fucking know.” The guy squints at Megumi, as if trying to see if he knows him or not. With the way his expression pales, Megumi comes to the conclusion that the guy might not really know him, but he knows ofhim. Gojo says that with the right reputation, the two concepts are practically synonymous. “But I heard a guy ‘n a girl, I think, walk past the bathroom. I don’t know who, though!”

Megumi lets go of the boy’s shirt, and he’s quick to run off before Megumi can give him any more wrinkles in his shirt — or do something much worse.

He’s thinking. Odds are, it’s probably not even you. With so many people roaming around this house, it’s likely that he just missed your presence. Your phone could have died, so that explains why he can’t reach you.

He finds himself heading up the stairs anyway.

It’s fine. He tells himself. You’re fine. You’re okay. Nobody would dare to touch a single hair on your head unless they want to suffer directly at the hands of Megumi. People around campus call him your guard dog, and it’s not necessarily a nickname he hates.

The atmosphere upstairs is vastly different from the one downstairs. There are no lights turned on, and all the doors to the rooms are closed. He hears a flush coming from one end, and out walks a tipsy girl who’s staggering a bit. There are only so many doors to choose from, and he doesn’t really want to accidentally walk in on two people trying to have sex, but the need to confirm your safety outweighs any possible embarrassment he may suffer from, so he continues on his mission.

The first two rooms are revealed to be empty, leaving just one more. Megumi takes a deep breath before trying to turn the handle.

It’s locked. 

His gut is telling him something isn’t right, but he’s forcing himself to chalk it all up to paranoia. He curses under his breath, wondering why he even let you out of his sights for a single second.

Because he didn’t want to seem clingy. Because he didn’t want you to have any more reasons to keep on pushing him away. 

He decides to call you one more time, and as he’s listening to the dial tone, he hears a faint sound coming from the other side of the locked door.

It’s a phone ringing.

He presses his ear against the door, trying to make out any more sounds he possibly can. Is it still a coincidence when the phone stops ringing right as Megumi is greeted with your voicemail message of “sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now, but you probably should’ve just texted me!”

Without the annoying dial tone distracting him, Megumi can listen a little more clearly to what’s going on. There’s… there’s someone crying.

The voices are muffled, but he can make out bits and pieces of what’s being said.

“—fuck up… crying like a damn bitch… want this.”

He’s heard enough before he’s banging his shoulder against the door.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He’s screaming, hitting it again. There’s a chance, the voice of reason inside of him is saying, that it’s not you that’s crying behind that door. Even if it wasn’t, Megumi still wouldn’t have stood by idly. But instinct is telling him that it is you, and that’s enough cause for him to bang his shoulder against the door once again. He hears a scream, and a male voice cursing.

The force of his body banding against it is enough to have the door really test the strength of its lock. Megumi’s never been the bulkiest person in the world, but he’s still got some defined muscle to him. The door is creaking, almost bending to his will, but he fumbles in the dark for the gun safely tucked away by his side.

It’s a gift from Gojo. To speed up the process when something needs to be done quick is what Gojo said it was for. He’s never used it in such close proximity to you, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

No silencer. He forgot the fucking silencer. With the deep bass rumbling from the speakers, he doubts anyone would be able to hear the gun go off anyway. He aims for the handle, pulling back the safety, and fires once, then twice. With a foot aimed at the door, he kicks at it, pleased to see the way the abused door finally bends to his will.

The open door reveals a scene that makes Megumi see red: you, with tear stained cheeks and your clothes bunched up and strewn across the floor with a guy Megumi vaguely recognizes as someone sharing the same Econ class as the two of you — Mahito.

“You fucking bastard.” Megumi practically lunges forward, tossing his gun to the side. He doesn’t see reason, is numb to common sense at this moment. All he feels is the need to hurt this fucker. To make him bleed, to have him on the brink of death, to see the light of life leave his dark eyes.

Mahito is fast, but even he couldn’t imagine the speed that Megumi would possess when pushed to the edge. This is different from the fights you’ve witnessed during school. This is something entirelydifferent.

The first punch has Mahito wincing in pain. The second, third, and fourth ones are thrown back to back, and there’s no time given to recover, no chance to gain the upper hand. He’s falling down, and Megumi’s on top of him, drawing back his fist only to slam it against him again and againand again.

Megumi knows he’s got something fucked up inside of his head — what other explanation is there to reason with why he finds this bloody violence so satisfying? His knuckles are bloody, and he can’t tell where Mahito’s blood starts and where his own ends. There’s a wild grin on his face, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re not sure if it’s a trick of the shadows, but the feral expression on Megumi’s face transforms him from your loyal best friend to something monstrous.

“‘Gumi, st-stop.” The words stumble out of your mouth as hiccups, but you don’t miss the way Megumi’s raised arm freezes in its higher position before he slowly brings it back down to his side. He’s breathing deeply, and all is silent in the room.

As if the sound of your cries is enough to snap him out of his daze, it’s almost scary how fast his mood shifts. Just a second ago, he was hellbent on beating Mahito to a bloody pulp, and now the darkness drowning those blue eyes of his is practically gone. He makes his way to the bed, each step hurried but still hesitant. Do you even want to be near him right now? 

You answer his question with some more small sobs. “‘Gumi, I—”

“Shh, it’s okay, [Name].” He’s picking up your clothes from the floor, ready to help you get dressed. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Megumi.” His name seems to be the only thing you’re capable of saying right now. After he helps you get dressed, he’s thrown off guard when you cling to him, with your arms wrapped around his neck and your wet cheeks pressed against his shoulder.

The moment the two of you are exiting the room, both of you far too wrapped up with the other to pay him any mind, Mahito lets out a laugh before groaning at the pain Megumi inflicted.

The two of you don’t know what you just started, but no worries — Mahito has the means of ending it.

It’s only a matter of time.

You’re too good to be true.

You won’t listen to him when he tells you this (you never do), but he swears you’re a fucking angel or something otherwordly. There’s no other possible explanation for just how breathtakingly beautiful you are, or how you’re the only thing consuming his every thought. Despite the fact that all the blood on his hands has reached an amount that he’s sure he’ll never truly be able to wash it all off, you don’t shy away from his touch. As a matter of fact, it seems like you’re keening for it.

“‘Gumi.” You mewl out, sticking out your tongue to lap at the precum on Megumi’s thumb.

You’re well aware of just how dangerous your boyfriend (the title makes you giddy every time you refer to him as that) is, but you know him. You know that the hands of a killer are the hands of your lover, and most of the time, you have a hard time believing the awful things he’s had to do with them. Because right now, those hands that are meant to be weapons are handling you with care, touching you so gently, you would have thought you were made of glass and ready to shatter.

“Look at you, all spread out for me. What happened to my precious, shy little girl, huh?” He removes the hand that was cradling your face back to his cock, stroking his length, the saliva from your tongue acting as a minor lubricant. The first time he fucked you was the first time you’ve ever had sex with anyone ever, and it had been the start of an addiction. You love Megumi. You love everything about him, from his character to his tenacity, all the way down to his cock, with its red tip that’s sticky with pre and leaking out more as he stares down at the obscene position you’re in.

Your face feels warm as he stares down at you, his eyes darkened with a mix of love and lust that you don’t think you’ll ever get used to being on the receiving end of.

“Need you, need you so bad, please, ‘Gumi—” You’re staring up at him, giving him your best doe eyes.

“Fuck.” Just the sight of you beneath him, completely bending to his will, whining out for him to pretty please fuck you has him ready to cum right on the fucking spot. He’s pressing the tip in, his breathing faltering just the slightest as the warmth you provide envelopes the most sensitive part of him, nearly causing him to lose all self control right then and there.

You let out a cry as he pushes himself deeper in you, making himself at home in your gummy walls, one hand gripping your hip and the other holding onto the headboard.

“You feel so good for me, baby, shit.” He hisses, waiting for you to adjust, impatient but willing to bear it if it means it’ll feel better for you in the long run. After all, there’s nothing he wouldn’t do, nothing he wouldn’t endure, just to ensure your happiness.

“Mm — ah — please.” There are still tears welling up in your eyes — precious girl, he hasn’t even began to properly fuck you, and you’re already tearing up? The sight of you completely and willingly at his mercy is enough to get him to start rutting his hips against yours, the satisfying sound of skin slapping against skin resounding and bouncing against the walls of his bedroom that is starting to feel more like the both of yours.

“Y’feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.” He groans, his pace quickening, the thrusts getting sharper and rougher with every roll of his hips. You’re powerless against his strength, and this type of easy submission feels so natural, feels so good, when it’s him that’s taking advantage of it. “You’ve got the sweetest pussy, y’know that?  I could fuck you forever.”

His praise goes through one ear and out the other with you, but your heart swells up to twice its size. Even if you can’t focus on the words all too clearly, you’re still aware that Megumi’s probably praising you. You can come to this conclusion because he’s always praising you. He’s always so sweet, so gentle, so loving — when it comes to you, that is.

“Hng — daddy!” You can’t help but let out a high pitched moan as he hits that sweet spot inside of you that makes you buck your hips up.

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing. Clenching around his cock like that, making those cute little noises that he can’t help but want to hear all the time, and then calling him that.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy.” 

Forget igniting something within him; you whining for him, calling him something that’s the root cause of all his childhood traumas… That’s like dousing him with gasoline and tossing a lighter at him. He’s going to burn through all his energy, channel all this dark, feral energy, and use you as the one unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end.

He fucks into you so deeply that if your eyes weren’t shut tight, there’s no doubt that you wouldn’t see the unmistakable shape of his cock outlined against your tummy. The headboard is banging against the wall, and the squelching sounds of him roughly thrusting in and out of your sopping cunt is so lewd and so dirty that if you had any room to harbor a single ounce of shame, you would be downright embarrassed.

“How about you make me a daddy, huh? How about I fuck a baby in you?” He won’t lie and say it’s not something that’s never crossed his mind. The thought of your stomach round with a life the two of you created is enough to get him to continue with this near-brutal pace he’s set forth. “Doesn’t it sound nice, baby? My baby giving me a baby, what—” He grits his teeth as you tighten up. “—a fucking dream.”

“Baby. Wanna have your babies.” You cry out, tears spilling out and wetting your cheeks as your arms find their way to his neck and broad shoulders, trying to pull him in closer. The heat building up from within you feels like you’re about to fucking explode. “‘Gumi, I love you, Iloveyoupleasegimmeababy—'' Your words are practically unintelligible as you slur them out, the words sticking together as you cum all over his cock, all that pleasure that has been building up now physically tangible, if the white ring encasing his cock every time he pulls out is evidence.

“Fuck! You feel so fucking good. Always so fuckin’ tight.” He’s reaching his own end, and you’re just lying there, trying to recover from such an intense orgasm but unable to as your too sensitive walls clench around the constant intrusion of his cock. Spurred by your little love confession and his mind imagining his daydreams coming true — you, as his cute little housewife, taking care of the kids the two of you made together — he finally shoves himself as deep as he physically can, making sure that as he cums, nothing will spill out.

“‘Gumi.” You whisper, your head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. “Did you mean it when you said you wanted to start a family?”

He’s silent for a minute.

“I wouldn’t mind starting a family with you.” And he means it. He knows this life isn’t one meant for children — look at how he turned out, for god’s sake — but he thinks that for you, he can do anything. Even make a family work out. As long as it’s what you want, he doesn’t mind how hard it may be.

You snuggle closer to him, burying your face in the warmth of his chest. “Good.” You mumble. “I wanna start a family with you, too.”

Megumi feels… at peace. Like he’s got the whole entire world in the palm of his hands. He wraps his arms around you, and realizes that no — right now, he’s got his world right in his arms.

Mahito likes to play with his food before he devours them whole.

Humans are just so… vulnerable. Even the coldest people have a heart; it’s only a matter of whether or not they find someone warm enough to defrost it. Megumi Fushiguro, for example, likes to walk around this world, acting indifferent and claiming to follow his own moral conduct, only to give himself the biggest weakness he could possibly harbor: you.

He still remembers that party. He still remembers the way you were dressed like a little slut, completely oblivious (or maybe you were just acting coy) to the wolfish stares all the guys were giving you. He had the same class as you. Seen the way you clung to Gojo’s charity case, as if the ground would swallow Megumi whole if you let go of him. You’re cute, and you scream naive virgin, and that’s precisely why Mahito wanted to take you to that bedroom and have his way with you.

And then, your infamous little guard dog bared his teeth and pummeled him into the hardwood of a stranger’s bedroom floor.

Grudges are cancerous. If you don’t deal with it right away, it develops into something worse. It takes over all your internal organs, ruining you ‘til the only thing you can focus on is getting revenge. And the longer you wait, the more vengeful you get. It doesn’t become a matter of ruined pride or reestablishing honor — it becomes about inflicting the most pain one possibly can. It becomes about suffering — about transferring your pain, your anguish, onto someone else.

Mahito isn’t the type to hold grudges, but for Megumi, he’ll make a special exception. He wants to see just how well trained the boy is; after all, he’s been taken under the wing and supervision of Satoru Gojo, the myth himself. Surely, his student must be nearly as skilled, right?

It’s been a long game of watching and waiting on Mahito’s end. A lot of lurking in the shadows and gathering intel. It’s a lot more boring than he anticipated, but today’s the day where all his hard work finally comes to fruition. Megumi Fushiguro is going to regret ever interfering with him that one fateful night. The burning humiliation he’s felt has long since fizzled out, but since he’s already been set on the path of orchestrating Megumi’s destruction, he figures it only makes sense to see it through. You only can let go of a grudge after you get your proper revenge.

He’s been leaving Megumi all sort of taunting, teasing threats any chance he gets. Mahito’s got nothing but disgraced yakuza members on his side; those who have committed acts vile enough to get them kicked out of what is essentially a group of criminals. He knows how to be twisted — hell, twisted might be the only thing he knows how to be.

Killing girls that resemble you and sending him the photos. Taking videos of you when you’re out in public alone. Leaving voicemails for Megumi, ones that leave him pale faced and unable to breathe as he listens to how Mahito wants to tortue you.

Megumi’s been on edge for the past few months, unable to explain to you why. It’s why you don’t understand why Megumi won’t let you go back to your car, even though you left your phone in there.

“I’ll go. Or, we can go together.”

“You have to wait for our coffee! And besides, I don’t even know where I left my phone. It might not even be in the car, but you’ll just waste your time searching for it if it’s not there.”

“So then why do you have to go look for it?”

“Because it’s my phone? Also, I reeeeeallly don’t wanna have to wait for our coffee, so I figured looking for my phone in the car would kill some time.” You give him that sweet smile of yours that he loves so much before waving him goodbye. “I’ll be back by the time our order is ready, pinky promise!”

At the end of the day, it’s all luck. Mahito realizes this as you happily skip out of the crowded cafe, headed towards your car to search for your phone. He doesn’t know why you’re returning back to your car, doesn’t even really care. All he knows and all he cares about is that you’re headed there alone. And while you’ve been alone plenty of times, he’s never had an opportunity quite like this one. A chance to finally detonate the bomb that’s been lying dormant underneath your car, ready to be activated at the press of a button. He could’ve killed you plenty of times already, but it’s not enough to merely murder you. He wants to make it a spectacle, sure, but he also only cares about one audience member watching: Megumi.

From where he’s hiding, blending in with the rest of the customers from the bakery across the street, he’s got a decent enough view of Megumi, who’s sitting by the glass windows, watching you with furrowed brows as you unlock the car door.

Mahito can’t help the cruel smile that spreads across his face as pushes the remote connected to the bomb.

Nobody expects to hear the loud, resounding boom of something exploding. The surrounding cars parked next to yours have their alarms going off like crazy; it’s nothing but high pitched, blaring noises blending together to create a disruptive harmony. People are screaming, someone is on the line with emergency services, and—

—your precious car is set aflame, reduced to a burning pile of scrap metal no salvage yard will take.

In this moment, Megumi Fushiguro’s world crumbles to ashes.

#megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi x reader #angst #fluff #one shot #drabble #smut #megumi smut #jjk smut #jjk imagines #yakuza au #THIS IS SO OLD IM CRYING #like rereading it... omg what was i ON???

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Hiii!

I love your writing, especially Mirror, Mirror! Are you still taking request? I‘ve been thinking about Ascended Astarion and female Tav/Reader attending a ball for the politicians and nobles of Baldur’s Gate, getting all dressed up and socializing, dancing and Astarion flirting with her all night long. Astarion obviously wouldn’t waste a chance to be alone with Tav/Reader, takes her on a romantic stroll in the gardens and has his wicked way with her somewhere in a dark corner 👀

I can not make Ascnedant Astarion not dark I am SORRY but I can't help myself. The intro to this is sad bad, but honestly it gets pretty fun later down the line. Gotta set up that Stockholm syndrome. You gots it here.

Tw: Murder, Violence, not much but it is there, graphic smut, 18+ sweet dark fluff. I do consider this Stockholm on your end. Very inspired by the in-game quote of locking you away for a decade. Also, never write shit only in tumblr post editor, I lost half of this right before I was going to post last and it almost killed me

~

Astarion was.... aware that you'd been having a hard time as of late. If anyone could empathize with the complications of being a vampire spawn, it was certainly him. Even though his circumstance were obviously much, much worse than yours ever could be.

He was no Cazador. Astarion was different, he loved you. He knew what was best for you. All that needed to happen now was for you to accept it.

And in your defense, you were trying. It had taken a long time for you to finally come to terms with the full extent of power he had over you as his spawn. He would always know where you were through sensation alone. Always ready and willing to drag you back home if need be. He could compel you to his side at any moment, though he did have a bad habit of going out to find you during your little tantrums. It seemed to work better to put you in your place, especially since he had very little self-control when it came to who you associated with. Many a possible friend had died at his hand, in front of your eyes. A waste, really, one that wouldn't be necessary if you would just listen.

But the demonstrations had been useful. Slowly but surely you were learning that the option of secrets between the two of you had died the second he sunk his fangs into your wrist. He had personally put an official stop to all of your extracurricular activities. The things you used to do in your spare time were silly and dangerous, always going out of your way to help the undeserving. But now he had the control to stop you, to sequester you at the estate where you were safe.

You had nowhere to be besides his side and you were finally starting to understand that. Things were so much easier when you gave in and listened, happier and more fun.

Lately, it had almost felt like another honeymoon phase, with your sudden predilection for extreme loyalty. It helped that he could still see into your mind through the new connection, fully aware that your love remained real and pure, if not a bit melancholic. It was silly really, the guilt you felt towards him for letting him ascend. Never mind the thousands he sacrificed, you were too concerned with how power had chanced him.

It was cute. Stupid, but cute. Because obviously it had changed him for the better. How else would he be where he was now? With his hands already in nearly every major part of Baldur's Gate's governance? He had made wide, sweeping moves to gain control in the past year, banking on your dual hero status to deflect from his more... unsavory attributes. But it was working, and in a few years time this city would belong to him. Then the two of you would be on to the next major conquest. A future that you were just now coming to terms with.

And Astarion wanted to reward you for that acceptance. He had been a bit paranoid of late, paranoid enough to not let you out of the house for a solid fortnight. But for good reason. The last of the Gur had come out of the woodwork recently, looking for revenge for their children and fallen comrades. With a specific interest in you. It had made sense, in a way. You were his greatest weakness after all. So of course he had to take it upon himself to personally hunt the last of them down to tear them limb from limb.

But now they were officially gone, and he was finally feeling comfortable with letting you out into the world again. Just not out of his sight. And tonight was the perfect opportunity. He had a mandatory soirée to attend, populated by neighboring nobles and a few powerful foreigners. One that would be so much more entertaining with you willingly by his side. Or forced, if need be. Depending on if you decided to be in one of your moods, though they were a rarity nowadays.

But no, you turned out to be too excited at the prospect of leaving the house to even attempt being a brat. Astarion watched you with a smile as you appeared at the top of the staircase, dressed to the nines. He whistled as he watched you descend, beyond pleased with how you looked. He met you at the bottom of the landing, easily wrapping an arm around your waist before setting a quick kiss to your temple, "You look beautiful pet. Absolutely stunning."

You truly did. A navy satin gown that matched your skin tone perfectly, fitted with delicate straps and a low bodice. Perhaps the slit in the leg was a little high, revealing too much of your perfect thigh for the rest of the world. But you looked too good for him to complain.

You really were so gorgeous, could he be blamed for wanting to dress you up?

You rolled your eyes, but Astarion didn't miss the tiny smile dancing on your lips, "You're the one who picked it out."

"And you wear it perfectly," Astarion praised, already leading you out the door. He kept you close to his side during the short journey, his eyes darting around your surroundings every few moments. His paranoia had been quelled, but it hadn't completely died out. But he had already made the decision that he was going to be on his best behavior tonight, and that included not indulging in his protective nature. You deserved nothing less.

But that didn't stop Astarion from taking some mental notes on those who stared at you too brazenly when you arrived. Part of him couldn't blame them, not when he could understand your thrall better than any one else. But the other, more fun part of himself was too busy imagining ripping them apart for the audacious, lustful stares.

But he didn't drag the two of you out for strictly fun, a fact that he was quickly reminded of when you were approached by the main host, "Lord Ancunín! I'm so pleased that you could make it."

Astarion vaguely remembered who he was, though he was much more interested in his friends than the man himself. The man turned his attention toward you, brow raised, "And who is this beautiful creature?"

Astarion could feel his brow twitch at the insolence. How dare he not know who you were? The Hero of Baldur's Gate, his consort, the love of his life, how could someone of his breeding be so ignorant? You had to many titles to choose from for introductions, so Astarion decided on the most important, "This is the future Lady Ancunín, my fiancé."

He could feel you tense at his side, staring up at him with wide eyes like what he said was surprising. Which was odd. He had been extremely clear about his intentions since the day he ascended, marriage was the obvious next step for the two of you.

"Well it's lovely to meet you," The noble said with a smile, his attention going straight back to Astarion, "Now if you'll excuse us, I have a few matters to discuss with your future husband."

Astarion was startlingly close to hurting this man. What on earth made him feel as though he had the right to dismiss you? He tightened the arm he had around your waist, sneering at him, "There is nothing that you can say that she won't eventually know. Don't waste our time."

Then he proceeded to do just that, wasting Astarion's time with useless information and worthless attempts at allyships. It seemed to be an unfortunate trend as the night progressed, just reinforcing how utterly useless the gentry could really be. Not to mention their constant passive dismissal of you. He really was going to need to start letting you out more often, though he had to wonder if they were even worthy of your presence. He would have been a bit more forceful regarding his own displeasure at their arrogance if you weren’t so distracting.

It was hard to hold onto his own indignation when you seemed so content. You were leaning into him the whole night, smiling softly through all of his inane conversations. Never failing to be adorably pleased at your introduction. It made Astarion want to fawn over you, alternating between whispering sweet nothings in your ear and sweeping you onto the dance floor. All of your pleased laughs and giggles music to his ears.

He kept you close all evening, never allowing you to wander past his sight. His arm stayed firmly around your waist, never quite shaken off after your first waltz together. But you didn't seem to mind. If anything you were glowing under the attention, happy in a way he hadn't seen for a long time. Too long. Beautiful enough for him to have the overly romantic thought that he never wanted the night to end.

Even after he had done his rounds, engaged with all whom he had planned on, he wasn't quite ready to leave. They had all been dreadfully dull, but at least a few conversations would prove useful in the future at the very least.

He started to steer you towards the back garden doors, whispering in your ear, "Take a walk with me?"

You followed him easily, happy to leave the bustle of the ballroom and step into the coolness of the night. You both started walking, hand and hand in a comfortable silence. It was a pretty enough garden, hedges and ivy lining the walkways, a white slightly weathered gazebo placed in the center.

"You know," You said eventually, as the two of you went up the gazebo steps. You leaned against the railing, looking at him with a coy smile, "I don't recall you ever proposing."

Astarion barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes as he crowded around you. It was an unnecessary question, considering how you would have no choice in the matter. But he was playing nice tonight. Astarion grinned at you, bracing his hands on the railing to cage you in his arms, "If you want a proposal, I'm more than happy to oblige."

"I do," You were playing with the lapel of his jacket, looking up at him through your lashes, "Sooner than later if you don't mind."

"Your wish is my command," Astarion murmured, shameless as he started to kiss along the line of your throat, "I'm proud of you pet. You've been an angel all night."

"You haven't given me much to complain about," You said with a small laugh, your breath hitching when his fangs scraped against your delicate skin, hard enough to make pinpricks of blood bubble to the surface.

"You know..." Astarion started, pulling back to look you in the eye. His voice gentle but serious, "It could always be like this. If you let it."

"I... I know," You admitted, biting on your lower lip as you struggled for the words, "I-I want that. I want you. Even if... it's like this."

Astarion would take offense at the subtle dig if it was anyone else. But with you? He was just happy that you were finally coming around, at long last willing to accept the fate he'd set for you.

"You have it," Astarion promised, tilting your chin up to press a light kiss to your lips, "For as long as I breathe my love, you're mine. And I'm yours-"

You kissed him before he could finish, wrapping your arms around his neck, forceful in a way that he had desperately missed. But you were pulling back too soon, your mouth swollen and your lipstick slightly smeared, smiling at him like the precious thing you were.

How could he resist?

"I think you deserve a reward for tonight my pet," Astarion said, leaning in to softly kiss along your jaw, "For being such a sweetheart."

His hands were wandering, already moving to pluck at the delicate straps of your dress, slowly teasing them to drop down your shoulders.

You made no moves to stop him as your eyes darted around the empty space, "H-Here? But what if someone sees?"

"Then I'll tear their eyes out and feed them back to anyone who stumbles on us," Astarion said simply, smiling at the way it made you laugh softly.

"Violence isn't always the answer you know," You said, your breath hitching as he lightly bit your neck. Your dress still slinking down all the while, "I thought we talked about that?"

"Perhaps," Astarion murmured, "But it seems to usually work in my favor."

He had already managed to slip the straps down enough to ease the way, brazenly tugging the fabric until your breasts spilled from the top. He leaned back in, taking the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth as you gasped; mewling when he began touching you, shamelessly pinching your nipples just to hear you whine.

He adored all your little noises, so easy to coax out of your mouth. He could feel his own cock pulsing in the confines of his trousers, the feeling getting worse and worse as you started to whimper.

Astarion let one of his hands travel further down, right through the slit in your gown. He traced the seam of your pussy through delicate lace, smiling into the kiss from how the simple touch had your hips pitching forward. He could feel you getting wet, already seeping through the fabric of your panties, your needy cunt already begging for his touch. And Astarion was more than happy to oblige.

He tore them from your hips, letting the tattered pieces fall unceremoniously to the ground before he started to rub his palm against your clit, more slick gushing out as you moaned.

You were clutching at his shoulders, panting into his mouth as he played with you. Your thighs tightened around his hand, your cunt wet enough to fill the air with messy, indecent sounds.

Whatever trepidation you had before was quickly dissolving, a small chant escaping your lips as you two kissed, Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.

Astarion was more than happy to oblige.

"Hold onto me darling," Astarion ordered, giving you a split second to tighten your grip around his neck before he was lifting you in the air, settling you on top of the thick railing with your legs spread wide. He made quick work of taking his weeping cock out, rubbing it along the seam of your cunt as you moaned. And then he was pushing inside, the slide soaked and easy.

You felt so tight around him, tight and sopping wet as he started to fuck into you. He bent his head down, popping one of your hard nipples into your mouth as you cried out, your nails clawing into his shoulders. You wrapped your legs around his hips, trying to pull him in even closer, despite the fact that he was pressed deeply inside of you. Hitting all of your sensitive places.

He could tell that you were close, your whining getting more and more high-pitched by the second, your sweet cunt pulsing around his cock. Astarion started to rub at your clit again, at the perfect angle to make you tense up and cry out. And just like that you were squirting against his hand, breathing heavy as your orgasm ravaged through you.

Astarion grinned, popping off your breast to kiss your slack mouth. Naughty thing that you were, making a mess all over your fancy dress. He pulled back to look at you, debauched and panting, your pupils dilated at you stared up at him. You looked gorgeous, fucked out and perfect.

He started to fuck you harder, the erotic image was too much for his mind to handle. You where whining with each thrust, no doubt oversensitive as he roughly slammed into you. But you were a good girl, taking it without a single complaint as you held on for dear life, tears springing to the corners of your eyes. But lucky enough for you, you didn't have to wait long.

Astarion spilled inside of you with a drawn out moan, grinding circles into your cunt as you quivered. You pulled him in for another kiss, messily sliding your lips together as he filled you up. The two of you stayed like that for awhile, lazily kissing as he softened inside of you. It felt good, it felt right, the perfect end to a great night.

Astarion pulled out slowly, cooing at you as you gasped at the feeling. Your legs were still trembling as he set you back on the ground, bad enough for Astarion to wonder if he should just pick you up before you crumpled on the floor.

But first...

Astarion dropped to his knees, ignoring your surprised gasp as he spread your legs back apart.

"Hush darling," Astarion ordered as he pushed your dress back up, "Let me have a look at you."

Astarion was aware that he had gotten a little rough near the end there. It wouldn't be the first time he made you bleed during sex, nor the last. But he would hate to do so accidently. But no, your pussy looked perfectly healthy, if not a little swollen. Flushed and pink, your hole still twitching the slightest bit. The sight of your pussy all slick and red was nearly enough to make his mouth water.

"Spread your legs a little further pet," Astarion murmured, looking just to look. He gently added pressure to your shaking thighs until you complied, "That's it. Good girl."

His cum was already starting to leak out of you, the smallest bit of white making it's first appearance amongst your wet folds. No doubt it would be sliding down your legs soon enough. He could do something about that. But then again... the alternative sounded like too much fun.

Astarion stood back up with a smile, patting your pussy once before letting your dress fall back down, "Try to hold it in darling. We wouldn't want to make another mess, would we?"

You nodded slowly, still looking half out of it. A sweet, hazy look still plastered onto your face. You were already leaning in for another kiss, naturally desperate for more contact. Contact that Astarion was more than happy to give. He pulled you closer, kissing you deeply; your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him even closer. He wrapped his arms around your back, dipping his tongue between your lips as you dreamily sighed.

You pulled away first, to his displeasure, but you didn't go far. You rested your forehead against his, smiling softly with loving eyes, "Hi."

Astarion couldn't help but smile back, taking the time to tuck a wild piece of hair behind your ear, "Hello my treasure. Did you have fun tonight?"

"I think you know the answer to that," You giggled softly, "I'm not even sure I can walk."

That he did. And there would be many more nights like it. Though for now, he'd prefer to get you home. He felt a bit reluctant to parade you back out there for the masses eyes, so obviously debauched by his hands. No, the sight of you happy and flushed was for his eyes only. Your night would be ending here.

You squeaked as he swept you up in his arms, already muttering the magic for a portal under his breath. And just like that the two of you were gone, completely uncaring to give any good byes.

The two of you popped right into the entry hall of the estate, sudden enough to nearly scare a maid half to death. Astarion paid them no mind, too busy with carrying you upstairs to the sanctuary of your quarters.

You cuddled into his chest, looking up at him with a nervous look, "Did... Did I do good tonight?"

"Of course you did," Astarion cooed as he kicked the door to the bedroom open, trying to softly drop you on the bed, "Perfect creature that you are, what else could have possibly happened?"

But you didn't let go when he tried to pull back, clinging hard enough for Astarion to simply follow you. But he didn't mind, no he preferred you like this. Needy, wanting, and his. He twisted the two of your around, settling only when he had you laying on top of him. He would set a bath for the two of you later, but for now he was more than happy to lay here, watching as your tired to stay conscious. You always got so tired after sex, just one more silly thing that he was endeared by.

"I love you," You mumbled, your eyes falling closed, "Thank you for taking me tonight. For trusting me. I... thank you."

"I love you too darling," Astarion murmured back, kissing your forehead, "You get better by the day. I really am proud of you."

It was true. You were learning, adjusting. Give him a decade and you'd be completely immersed in your new life, all thoughts of useless things like "freedom" forgotten.

You were his. Until the end of time, you'd be together.

He'd make sure of that.

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #ascended astarion #asks #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #long fic #this took awhile #I'm slowly working through these asks but i can not make #anything simple #apparently #but i lost half of this near the end of the process and it broke me #she dirty #im telling yeah #she is

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @velinxi​

Hello! I’m Xiao Tong Kong, better known as “Velinxi.” I’m the creator of the webcomic Countdown to Countdown and have been doing freelance artwork since I was a teenager. I love telling stories with my illustrations! Tumblr was where I first got my start as an artist, specifically a small fandom artist as a hobby… and now I’m somehow here! When I’m not trying my best to stay awake in front of my tablets, I’m usually cooking, gaming, or sleeping. Sometimes all three, in my dreams.

Check out our interview with Velinxi below!

Did you originally have a background in art? If not, how did you start?

Yeah! I’ve basically been on track to become an artist since I was a child. I went to a middle school with an emphasis on arts and a high school specializing in it. I went to SVA briefly for computer arts but dropped out to pursue freelance and webcomics after my first year.

Over the years as an artist, what or who were your biggest inspirations behind your creativity?

My biggest inspirations growing up were Yuumei and Shilin Huang, two titans on DeviantArt back in the day. They still inspire me today, but the list of inspirations has grown exponentially over the years, including artists, movies, entire art movements, etc.

What was your thought process behind the creation of your webcomic, Countdown to Countdown?

Well, Countdown to Countdown started as a passion project back when I was 15, in high school, and pretty depressed. I just wanted to draw whatever story I thought was cool, inspired by my favorite media at the time. There was a very loose beginning and outline, but I was truly just writing as I drew the story. That’s why I had to stop the comic in 2018 and restart from scratch the year after. Now, the story has a set story and a clear outline. It still has similar roots, characters, and themes of neglect, abuse, and escape—but I think the story is a lot easier to follow now. It’s got an artstyle I can actually keep up with in the long run. The origin of why CTC exists also remains the same: I simply wanted to make a story I wanted to read for myself. Which happens to be about two dumb boys with superpowers navigating a hostile world that wants them dead or caged—together.

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Oh, all the time. It’s part of the process. Personally, though—I just have to draw through it. Every month on my Patreon, I have my patrons vote on a theme I have to draw by the end of the month, and I try my best to make it as interesting as possible. I draw quite a few—tens even, of doodles or compositions for each of these themes to try to make something that tells a story while still being aesthetically pleasing and clear. I think pushing myself like this helps with art block, really. I also do remember to take breaks and simply consume other media I like! It gets the inspiration juices flowing.

Advice you would give to an aspiring creator?

If you do one—your first webcomic should be a short, fun, messy thing. It’s not often you can get it right the first time, but you’ll certainly learn a lot through sheer experience. This goes for a lot of things in art, to be honest.

What is a medium that you have always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?

3D Animation. I briefly learned it at SVA, and I think that’s enough of that tech for me. I accept that there are some things that are truly beautiful if done right, and I am too simple and lazy for it.

What is your goal for the rest of this year?

Get Countdown to Countdown book 2 finished! And live HAHA

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

@yuumei-art on Tumblr, still! They’ve been a huge inspiration for digital artists and storytellers online for years. I have no doubt that many digital artists of my generation have been influenced by them, and they’re still here, making beautiful art and stories. It’s a thing to behold.

Thanks for stopping by, Velinxi! If you haven’t seen her Meet the Artist piece, be sure to check it out here. You can also follow her for more amazing art over at her Tumblr, @velinxi!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #velinxi #xiao tong kong #countdown to countdown

[mediumgayitalian]

Hiiiiii

Okay so I am absolutely obsessed with your writing .

Every day I check Tumblr to see if you've uploaded anything

When they move in together how do you think they will spilt the chores ?

And do you think their aesthetic would change as they grow older ?

Thank youuu

Love youuu

OH i love this. okay.

when they move in together, how do you think they will split the chores?

they do not.

they are in an interesting situation: nico has never had to do chores in his life. as a kid, he was the son of Literal Hades and an aristocrat, he for sure had people doing that shit for him. in the lotus, they presumably had room service. he may have had to do a few chores at the military school, but a) they weren't there for long and b) as an older sister with a younger brother, bianca was doing that shit for him. she ordered him to make his bed, he did a horrible job, she huffed and did it herself because it's more of a pain in the ass to make your brother do it again than it is to do it yourself. bianca i get you. after that he was homeless, so there was obviously no cleaning there, and then he lived in his father's palace. he has never so much as done a load of laundry except maybe hastily with a public washroom sink and a bar of soap. he barely knows what a mop is.

will, on the other hand, has been in charge of both a cabin and a literal infirmary since he was 13 years old. on top of that, if i am not mistaken (i'm so sorry i still havent read toa and tsats im getting there i swear), he grew up on a farm. his ass knows how chores work, in fact i would bet money that he gets a little obsessive when it comes to cleaning. he is acutely aware of how many germs are on every single surface ever. he cleans and he does it a lot.

this could go really badly, because habit would indicate that will would be doing all of the housework and nico none, which is Bad For Relationships.

however:

nico really likes will.

will is a massive hypocrite who overworks himself. he also is a bit of a control freak.

nico is also very, very observant.

i think, in the beginning of their friendship, even, nico noticed that will, like bianca, would let the onus of cleaning and tidying fall to him because 'no one else does it right', and also, maybe, it's just easier not to fight people about it. i think this would bother him. i think he would, in his inability to, like, be normal, impulsively challenge will to a cleaning contest.

and. like. will is a competitive person, okay. maybe not about things he knows he can't win, but when he knows he's good at something? he is not letting that shit slide. look at how fast he was to dunk on octavian, how prickly he got when nico doubted his ability to outrun the romans. if nico, who will knows damn well has done like four chores in his life, tries to challenge will, mr. antiseptic is my closest friend solace, to a cleaning contest?

he is going to sweep the floor with him.

pun absolutely intended.

from there things kind of spiral. at first it's a dorky ass learning curve, because nico loses every cleaning competition so so badly and quit fucking laughing, solace, you dickead, the windows are not that streaked and also watch me spray you in the goddamn eyes, huh, how do you like that and it's just kind of...fun. for the first time in a long time cleaning up doesn't make will quietly bitter.

plus, as an added bonus, nico helping will clean up makes it less invisible when he does it. now people are starting to notice that, no, the infirmary does not magically clean and organise itself, someone does that. and maybe a few more people pitch in to help. and maybe will realises, and maybe he smiles gratefully at nico when, for the first time in years, he has two entire days off, back to back, in the summer, for the first time in years. and maybe nico thinks he is going to collapse into dust because gods will has a nice smile. not that he cares or notices or anything.

do they need to keep having competitive chores forever?

no.

but does it make both of them kind of shyly pleased and happy to remember how they started? to remember how much their friendship means to them, first and foremost, and not just their relationship?

yes.

(also, by the gods, nico is going to beat will at laundry one day. he is. as soon as he learns to fold without creasing the whole stupid shirt it's over.)

how do you think their aesthetic would change as they get older?

not much tbh.

will is pretty happy in his cargo shorts, which, mood. and nico is very committed to his Prince of Darkness look.

they are gonna have to get used to like...regular weather when they leave camp tho. i think will might begrudgingly have to get used to pants. he hates jeans with a fiery passion and any kind of slacks, but he will accept track pants.

he is also into shirts with horrible horrible puns on them. especially medical puns. he and nico frequently fight over who gets to buy shirts with bone puns on them, because they both find it funny. their closet (lol) is quickly morphing into one monster.

will complains about wearing shoes every single time he has to wear something that isn't flip-flops (again, understandable). he likes buying off-brand white converse and customizing them, though, so those are acceptable.

he refuses to wear boots under literally any circumstances. there could be three feet of snow on the ground and dumbass will be wearing chucks.

while their t-shirt situation is pretty similar, nico literally doesn't wear pants that aren't jeans. sometimes he sleeps in jeans. (not to make will's eye twitch, noooo, of course not, sometimes he just Reasonably Forgets or is Reasonably Too Lazy to get changed)

nico does also, on occasion, wear button ups, sleeves folded to just above the elbow.

will likes these very much.

especially the green one.

the green one is Very Very nice.

as for hair, nico grows his out to shoulder length so he can tie it back. he doesnt keep it much longer than that, because too long and he looks like bianca -- he always looks like her, and he never forgets that, but its important to him to remember her while still being able to think of himself as a separate person. he cuts it when it goes past his shoulders.

wills hair is literally untamable. it grows where it pleases. he hasnt had a haircut since he was six years old and somehow his hair doesnt grow down to his waist. he has no idea how long it actually is. they tried to measure it once but it changed every two minutes. the literal only time it resembles anything close to maintained is when he wears it in two french braid pigtails :) nico likes to buy him elastics with little charms on them. he wears them to suit his mood, he has a whole collection.

#I HOPE YALL LIKE #i might do something with that first one??? i liked it #anyways #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #heroes of olympus #hoo #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson headcanon #pjo headcanon #solangelo headcanon #will solace headcanon #nico di angelo headcanon #solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #longpost #headcanon #my writing #ask

[homeofatlas]

Wasted Days

Summary: Being in the public eye isn’t easy. Especially when you’re in love with your best friend. 

Authors note: Y'all.......I'm sorry this has been sitting half finished forever and i just needed to get it done and out there. Not edited. Also yes this is lowkey based on that line from call me by your name. but not really but inspired from it.

Word Count: 3.2k

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Being somewhat famous isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. You loved the fans' sweet messages, the way they encouraged you and supported you when you had bad games, and how much dedication went into the edits and the fanpages. You’d even be lying if you said you hadn’t looked up your own name on tumblr to see if their was any fanfic of you. It flattered you, all these people you didn’t know idolising you and watching your interviews. What you didn’t appreciate was how they began to read into your relationship with your best friend. Could you call it reading into when they were just calling it like they saw it? It’s hardly their fault whenever you and elisa posted pictures of your excursions or you had interviews together you were staring at her like she’s hung the moon and the stars. It seemed quite rude of them to have to point that out though, in your opinion. 

The recent influx of comments asking whether or not you two were dating made your heart beat faster in your chest. Surely there must be something there that other people can see and you aren’t just making it all up in your head, right? If not then it’s blatantly obvious for the entire internet to see how in love you are with your best friend, Elisa. You honestly can’t help the way you allegedly look at her. You’ve tried to rein it in, you’ve tried to like other people, you’ve tried to not tell anyone and make it go away. But apparently no matter where you go as soon as anyone sees you interact with her it’s like you’ve got I’m in love with her tattooed on your forehead. 

During your professional football career you’d been at Montpellier with Elisa for a year before she’d left to join PSG. Giving you just enough time to learn everything about the girl and fall in love with her, convince yourself she might feel the same way, and then be heartbroken about her transfer. You’d kept in contact and tried to see her as regularly as possible but with training and games and travelling it’d been difficult until one day when you got the call from your agent telling you PSG wanted to sign you. Immediately you’d said yes in every way but in formal writing. 

Upon your first connection with the PSG team they’d noticed something was different about you. The way your hug reuniting with Elisa lasted longer than it potentially should have. The way she was more distracted with you around. The way she stuck to you like glue and smiled more than she had before. You’d gotten into the habit of constantly being around each other again. When you two played together there was no stopping you. You could read what the other was thinking before they did it. It was like watching one person be split into two bodies. Unfortunately none of these things made your crush on her go away or dull even a little. That old saying “Absence makes the heart grow fonder”? They had a point. 

In your time away from Elisa you’d forgotten the way her eyes crinkle when she smiled and the sound of her voice without the glitchiness of the phone. Constantly being around her again made everything better and worse at the same time. You were so screwed it wasn’t even funny. Which is why it took less than three weeks for the girls to corner you and ask about your relationship with Elisa. They’d assumed something had happened in the past or you were currently together. Either way that had been your first inkling you weren’t hiding your feelings as well as you tried to. Realistically there was only so much you could do before you started to avoid the girl or be constantly dead faced. You couldn’t help smiling at her the way you did or being the one she ran to when she scored a goal. If you’re being honest, it’s her fault for being so loveable. What were you supposed to do?

Pulling into the PSG parking lot you ready yourself for the teasing you know you’ll face. Elisa posted a photo last night which showcased you two looking awfully close together while on a night out with the team. You’d already skimmed the comments and they were the same on every post which had the two of you together. 

“Are Elisa and Y/N together?”

“They are such a cute couple!”

“My OTP”

Yeah, you thought bitterly, mine too. Scanning the parking lot to see which of the girls were already getting ready your eyes landed on Elisas car. Knowing she’s already there puts a pep in your step. Walking towards the change rooms weaving into corridors and making turns you come up on the hallway before the change room. You can hear voices inside speaking with one of the voices distinctly agitated. As you move to enter you hear your name. It’s Jackie and Elisa speaking about you. Deciding to wait for a moment, you want to hear what they’re talking about. You hear Elisas voice cut through the tense silence. 

“Drop it Jackie, we’re just friends. I don’t have feelings for her and I never have. Plus if anything was going to happen don’t you think it would have by now? We’ve been friends for years.” 

You can practically see the face Elisas disbelieving face as someone once again questions the nature of your relationship. Are you really so bad she can’t even see how someone else could see the two of you together? Your stomach turns at the thought. It never gets easier to see her with other people, or hear her refer to your love as being strictly platonic. It never feels strictly platonic whenever you shiver and she immediately throws an arm around you pulling you into her side. Or when she grabs you to tell you something when she could have called your name to grab your attention. Or when she cracks a joke and she looks at you first to see if you’re smiling. Those moments rarely feel entirely platonic. 

The words straight from her mouth saying she hasn’t got feelings for you makes you want to turn around and call in sick for training but you have to get over this at some point. You have to learn your place in Elisas life, her longtime friend, perhaps even her best friend. Not her lover. The realisation never hurts less despite the dozens of times you’ve come to it.

You give it a couple more minutes letting the conversation truly die out before walking in as though you hadn’t heard a thing. As you walk in you notice the way Jackie glances between you two. You’re sure your melancholy is written on your face, everything always is. You avert your gaze before she can decipher why. Thankfully she’s quiet while you change silently you really can't handle any teasing right now. Small bits of you break off every time you have to tell someone you and Elisa are just friends. Going up to the pitch and beginning to warm up Elisas words are still ringing in your head. Day 1067 (roughly) wasted thinking of a girl who doesn’t want you back. Story of my life, you think to yourself. 

—-------

A team dinner is the last place you want to be tonight. It’s good for bonding but you’re attached to Elisas side the whole time anyways. You aren’t sure you can get anymore bonded to her. You wonder how much of it is you sticking close to her and how much of it is her keeping you close. You wonder how far you’d get before she pulled you back into her orbit. Not very far, you reckon. 

Sakina slides into the seat opposite of you. You’d say her grin is wolfish but her features are too soft for the term. 

“So you two looked pretty comfy on instagram the last couple of posts. Anything you’d like to share with the team?”

Your eyes flicker to Elisa beside you only to find her making eye contact with Jackie a couple people down. Whatever telepathic conversation they’re having right now makes your chest burn. You’re supposed to be the only one who knows her that well. Your mouth is filled with a bitter taste and something clenches and flexes in your chest. You look down trying to contain yourself before replying to Sakinas comment. 

“We hang out a lot, sue us.”

You can feel Elisa nod more than you see it. 

“Plus Y/ns a good photo taker I’ve got to put her skills to use when I have them!” She says jokingly. She leans forward in her chair propping one elbow up on the table the other coming up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. You glance to the side meeting her eyes and smile. Yes keep your focus on me, the beast in your chest sighs and relaxes. 

“Yeah but she’s been here for a while now. You’d think you guys would be sick of each other. I mean you’ve been friends for so long. What else do you even have to talk about?” 

You have a feeling it's time for Sakina to start drinking water. Luckily Elisa saves you from having to answer again. 

“Anything, everything, whatever we feel like mostly. Sometimes we talk about nothing at all and it’s the best conversation I'll have all day.”

See? It’s stuff like that which makes you wanna scream and shout and call bullshit on being platonic. 

It's like watching everything you've ever worked for go down the drain as Sakinas eyes light up. Something in her brain seems to scream BINGO!

“So have you guys ever….you know?” She looks between you two, clearly hinting at something. “Clearly you’re great together and have been in the same places at the same times coincidentally.”

Yeah coincidentally, you think. 

Elisa leans back in her chair seemingly nonchalantly, “I mean I liked her when we were younger but it was never the right time.” She shrugs as if she hasn’t just blown up the ground you’re standing on. 

“I mean we were young and starting out in our careers, we didn’t know where we’d go. There was no point in saying anything at that point.” You try to recover. Jumping in so it seems like you’re also unbothered and knew this information. You might pass out. It feels like the lights got brighter than they were a minute ago. 

Sakina puts down her drink and seems to take a pause before replying. She goes unnaturally still for a moment before she relaxes and looks between you two with a confidence you see projected towards crowds but rarely in spaces with her friends. You’re starting to think she’a lot more sober than she’s let on and this a massive ploy or some sick fucking prank you’re the victim of. 

“So why aren’t you now?”

Oh, Fuck. 

Damage control. 

Act like this is the first time you’ve thought of this. 

You see Elisas eyes darken and an intense look in her eye directed at Sakina which the girl seems to pointedly ignore instead putting on a vague attitude of indifference which seems to suggest she’s just come to an observation, not blown up your carefully constructed weird homoerotic friendship. 

“We could never jeopardise our friendship.” Elisa answers lamely. 

You feel nauseous. Someone might need to call an ambulance because you aren’t sure if your heart has beat at all in the past five minutes. You’ve got to get out of here, you need to be alone. Just as that crosses your mind, a warm palm goes to rubbing circles on your lower back. You know she’s trying to soothe you but right now she’s a match stick and you're an old crumpled newspaper. Glancing back you give Elisa a tight smile before excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, instead you walk out the front door and go home. 

—----------------

You aren’t expecting to hear from her. She’s made it abundantly clear in the last 12 hours she values your relationship but strictly as friends and used to like you but doesn’t anymore? You sigh, needing a minute to shut your brain off. 

So when there’s a knock at the door you’re confused about who's at your door on a thursday night at almost 11 pm, you know it’s the one person who would’ve noticed you slip away. 

She’s the last person you want to see and the first one you want to go to about all of this. Being in love with your best friend is too frustrating, you think as you unlock the door. 

“You left.” She’s pouting in your hallway. 

“I’ve filled my quota of hearing why I’m not relationship material to you today. Thanks, come back tomorrow.” Crap. You’re tired and you just want to go to bed, it slipped out. 

“So this is about dinner?”

You’ve had enough. 

At 11:08 pm on day 1067 (roughly) of being in love with Elisa you’ve decided you’ve had enough. 

“It’s about us. I’ve loved you for a quarter of forever and I've spent all day listening to the ways you don’t like me in front of our teammates so excuse me if i had enough and came home.” 

“Can I come in? This feels like an inside conversation, not a hallway conversation.”

You hate how she’s right and how she places her jacket on the hook that’s unofficially hers. When you turn and she’s made your home hers. She does that a lot, gets into your stuff and makes it her own. Your heart was the first thing she ever did too. 

The moment you make eye contact with her again, it comes spilling out. 

“I’ve loved you since forever. Honestly I can't pinpoint a specific moment in time where I knew I was in love. But when I listen to music there’s montages of your smile running through my head and your spirit feels like everything good in the world. Violins and guitars remind me of you. You’re music. You’re art. I love you, I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I didn’t.” Everythings comes out of Elisa at rapid fire. You’re left blinking at her tiredly. 

Word’s have done enough today. You’re too tired to talk. You walk over to her and tangle her hands with yours. Her fingers run along the sides of yours and you’ve never felt simultaneously at home and like you're on a rollercoaster. You love that feeling best when you’re with Elisa, she makes everything down to going on a walk feel like an adventure but also like you’re coming home and taking off your shoes and falling into bed when you’re tired. Safe, you realise, she makes you feel safe. No one ever felt this much like home before. In fact, you think if there is a home where all the atoms in the universe started your’s would be next to hers. 

She pulls you closer to her body and before you can register it you feel a soft kiss, tentative kiss on your lips. It feels so right. You’ve always felt like your bodies were made to fit together and now you have confirmation. 

“Sorry, I had to do that, I couldn't wait any longer.” 

You hum at the sentiment. 

She pulls away before bumping your foreheads together and letting it rest there. You love how Elisa knows you. Kissing is great but you know there’s more way to be intimate in a moment without you being attached to each other. Sitting here in this silence with her is filling your lungs with life again. You hadn’t noticed how little air you’d been breathing before, now every breath is a big heave and you’re trying to fill all your senses with her. You can see her, you can hear her breaths, you can feel her warmth against you, you can smell her, you can taste the chapstick she keeps in her car. This is where you’re supposed to be, you’ve never been more sure of anything. 

Her hand comes up to cup the side of your face. Speaking quietly she utters,

“We wasted so many days.” 

She sounds like she's laughing at the irony of it all. You know her well enough to detect the hint of bitterness in her voice. You think back to all the days you spent throwing her longing looks, waiting until she looked away or turned to look back at her. Everytime she smiled or laughed or frowned and they all went into a file to document exactly what she looked like. When you were younger and she would run up to hug you after a goal or the late night phone calls or the times where the moment hung just long enough for you to consider saying something. A light on the dark sea looking for a boat to say I see you, come home to me, I'll keep you safe. You wouldn’t trade any of those moments for the world. 

“No, my love,” you whisper back bringing your own hand up to clutch hers, “I haven’t wasted a single day loving you. You make me feel like I’m somebody when I'm next to you. I don’t care about how many goals or assists I have, none of that matters. I don’t need to be somebody to anyone, I want to be someone to you. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

You love her so much it’s utterly overwhelming, you can feel your throat beginning to close up. Sometimes it’s hard for you to tell her you love her because she means so much to you. Words could never portray how essential she is to your being. All you can do is hold her and try to give her the same sense of safety and wonder she gives you. Your hands tightly grip hers. You can feel her lips ghosting over the skin of your face. Her warm and heavy presence reminds you that this moment isn’t a dream. 

You feel her press small kisses from your temple to your hairline, her hand moving to cradle the back of your head. Eventually she trails her kisses along your nose before hovering over your mouth where you meet her to connect your lips again. This kiss isn’t as soft as the last. This is the kiss which tells you she’s waited long enough to have you, she isn’t going to waste another moment. Your arms creep up to wind around her neck pulling her closer to you. A deep inhale from your nose tells her you don’t want to let go just as much as her. With a small bite to your lower lip, you knew you’d been right in assuming your chemistry would translate to the physical side of the potential relationship. 

Pulling away with great effort you ask her to stay over tonight. 

She replies by kissing you harder than before. 

Perfect, you think, you’re not going to waste one more day.

#elisa de almeida #elisa de almeida x reader #woso x reader #élisa de almeida #woso #i've been holding this fic hostage so i'll do my homework #i'm trying to finish all the ones which are half done so yall stay tuned #i aware when i did the poll it was completely different but im still gonna write

[mxmmyprentiss]

I Miss You, I'm Sorry

Summary: Long story short, you survived without her. Her name had become a memory pushed and tucked away in the back of your mind. You locked it and threw away the key. You had stopped yourself from waiting for answers as to why she walked out on you or why she didn’t fight for you ages ago.

Well. Until now. Genre: Angst Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader Warnings: homophobia, parental abuse (?) Word count: 6.9k (I got carried away)

A/N: Hi, guys! I just made a new tumblr account and I'm new to Criminal Minds and I'm still actually just about to start season 4 lol but Emily Prentiss already got a chokehold on me and here I am. English is not my first language so any grammar/spelling/other writing mistakes, I apologize. I also have not written anything in a long, long time. Comments and criticisms are welcome.

(also emily's fbi timeline here might be a little confusing so idk lol)

AO3

Relationships don’t always work out. You have known that fact since you were seven years old as a result of your parents’ divorce. You still remember your mother saying, “Baby, sometimes love doesn’t last. Maybe it’s love for now but it won’t be love forever. Two people can grow apart even when they are together all the time. And that’s what happened with me and your dad. And honey, it’s not your fault, you understand?” And you still remember nodding as if you really understood what was happening.

But just like any other child who knew how it felt to be a product of a broken family, you still felt responsible about it. You could have done more, could have done something to prevent your family from falling apart, or at least could have done anything to stitch your family back together. But as you grow older, you learned that what if’s are only as good as heroin and cocaine combined together - it’s not. It’s lethal.

So even though your parents are still alive, you still considered them as the first ones you have lost. Accepting that has helped you cope with other things you have missed throughout your life..

Pen.

Hair ties.

Bus ticket.

Money.

Your first love.

The last one, unlike the others, was not forgotten, misplaced or stolen. The last one walked out of your life before you even had the chance to tell her you would move mountains and set the world on fire if she asked you to. What once were gentle, careful hands that held your heart are the same hands that crushed it into pieces and may have been impossible to glue it back together no matter how much you tried.

It’s fine though. It was a long time ago. You learned to live with it.

At least that’s what you told your therapist when she asked during one of your sessions.

“Come on, sugarplum.” Penelope Garcia, your roommate, tugged your arm. “It’s just drinks at the bar.”

“I’m already beat, Penny. I’ve had a long shift.”

“Exactly the reason why you need to get out and have fun, doctor. We were both so busy with work and never had fun anymore.”

“We have movie marathons sometimes.”

“Please,” Penelope scoffed. “You fall asleep in the first 30 minutes of every movie.”

You sighed. You didn’t defend yourself because it’s true. Lately, everything feels heavy. And you’re always exhausted to the point of passing out at any furniture you lay your head to.

“I’m sorry, Pen.”

Penelope cups your face and forces you to look at her. She has the most gentle, caring eyes when she wants it to be. Curious and determined, most of the time. “Hey, I’m not saying those aren’t fun, okay? I’m just saying maybe we need a change of environment. Get loose. Have a few drinks and maybe meet some people and dance. That’s all.”

“I don’t know these people,” you said defeatedly.

“And you don’t know your patients either but you’re forced to interact with them anyway.” Penelope squeezed your cheeks before letting go. “They’re my friends as much as you are mine, sweet cheeks. I’ll introduce you to them and who knows. You might end up liking them too.”

There’s no winning against your roommate. So you finally agreed and Penelope pranced to her room to change.

Since tonight seemed to be about changes, you decided to put on a skin tight knee-length blue dress that complimented your curves and skin along with a light denim blazer. You matched it with black printed flats and a purse Penelope gifted you last Christmas.

You and Penelope walked hand in hand to the bar. She told you briefly about everyone’s first names but you’re not sure if you will remember them all as you haven’t seen their faces just yet. Also, Penelope talks too fast when she’s excited and your brain just cannot process it as quickly knowing how tired you are.

You both stopped at the door, scanning the place and saw a booth on the far end of the bar. Penelope waved at the people on the table and everyone happily greeted Penelope. You felt a little at ease that they were all wearing casual clothes and looked a little less scary compared to what they actually do for a living.

“Everyone, this is my roommate, Y/N,” Penelope introduced you to the team. And pointing from left to right, she said, “This is Hotch, Derek, Reid and JJ.” They all waved at you. Reid stood up and shook your hand. He insisted you can call him Spencer and babbled something about an article he read the other day that he remembered because you’re wearing a blue dress. You stared at him, fascinated albeit confused. Derek chuckles and pulls Reid next to him.

“Hey, guys, here’s our dri-”

A pause. 

A stare.

Your heart skipped a beat. Or two. Or maybe it stopped for God knows how long.

One of the glasses of beer almost fell out of the raven-haired woman’s hands. Luckily, JJ caught it, looking back and forth between the two of you.

“Emily, you are an angel.” Penelope snatched three glasses out of her friend’s hand. “Y/N, this is Emily.”

It took you a second - or ten - before you reached out your hand for a handshake and forced a smile. “Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N.” Your jaw started to hurt at how tight you’re clenching them but you can’t help it.

She’s here.

Emily took your hand and for a brief second, you felt her squeeze it harder than you would normally do for a handshake. “Emily,” was all she said and sat to Penelope’s right.

Everyone grabbed their drinks. The music at the bar grew loud and they talked even louder to understand each other. Derek and Reid debated about something work-related that you didn’t understand but Derek rolling his eyes at Reid whenever he stated facts amused you. Meanwhile, Penelope showed something to JJ and Emily on her phone and you just hope it’s not something embarrassing because you caught the glance JJ shoots at you and she giggled.

“What are you showing them, Pen?” you asked curiously.

“Nothing,” she grinned. “I’m just showing them how pretty my best friend is.”

You squint, not believing a word she just said. Your hands were quick to snatch the phone from her hand. “Penelope Garcia!” Even with the dim lighting, your blush was evident. It’s a photo of you sleeping in your kitchen, hugging a stainless pot and holding a wooden spatula. You don’t remember that happening. “When was this and why are you keeping this picture?”

Penelope laughed. “You don’t remember so I’m not going to remind you.”

You immediately deleted it off her phone. “Now it’s gone.”

She raised her eyebrows and let out a chuckle, “You forget I work in tech?”

You mumbled a curse and rolled your eyes, accepting defeat.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. It’s cute.” JJ teased and you could only force a smile in embarrassment.

Out of nowhere, Penelope gulped down her entire drink and stood. “Come on, let’s get dancing! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

Everyone followed her. Even Hotch who seems to not like the idea but Derek practically pushed him to the dance floor.

Everyone except Emily.

Her.

And you.

You two were left at the booth, sitting across from each other. Emily was gripping her glass. Hard. You believed she might break it if she didn't relax.

You averted your eyes from Emily. It’s ridiculous to not find anything to stare at other than  Emily’s hands.

Emily’s beer. 

Emily’s hair. 

Emily’s clothes.

Emily’s necklace.

Why is this place full of her?

The place was full and crowded and the music was so loud but the silence between you two? That was louder. Deafening. Unsettling. Awkward.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Emily said, finally managing to look you in the eye again.

Your breath hitched once, twice, before answering, “You too.”

And you meant it. But you didn’t want to. 

Oh, but you did.

She chugged her beer and grimaces the second she does. “I … I didn’t know you and Penelope are friends.”

“I didn’t know you and Penelope are co-workers either.” You shrugged. “How long have you been with the FBI?”

“Seven years,” she answered.

Penelope called your name from the dance floor where she was dancing with Morgan. You only gave her a thumbs up to let her know you’re fine and will be staying at the booth.

“You’re staring,” you said and Emily quickly diverted her eyes from you. She decided the floor was a better view instead. You licked your lips to keep yourself from smiling. “It’s okay, you know.”

“What?”

“I said it’s okay.”

“What’s okay?”

“If you want to pretend like we don’t know each other.” But the agonizing tug in your chest claimed otherwise. “I mean, they’re your friends and Pen is your friend as much as she’s mine. She doesn’t have to know. She just brought me here tonight so we could have fun and meet you guys.”

To your surprise, Emily moved to sit next to you. Not really next to you but just close enough to smell her perfume. 

Velvety. 

Delicious. 

Familiar.

You inhaled deeply, composed yourself, and stole Penelope’s second beer.

“How have you been, Y/N?”

The shiver that ran down your spine shouldn’t be there when Emily said your name. It shouldn’t have affected you that much. Or at all. But it did. And you despised it.

“Since you left me? Great.” You laughed quietly, staring at the glass now half empty. “Really great. I … I’m well … a resident doctor …” You take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I just …”

“You didn’t expect to see me, I get it.”

“Yeah.”

There’s the awkward silence again. If it doesn’t stop sooner, you think you might just bang your head against the table just to shift the mood.

“I tried to find you,” Emily spoke again. Her voice was low, you almost miss what she said. “I came back but you weren’t there anymore. Your mom said you already moved to LA with your dad and -”

“I don’t want to do this here, Emily. Please.” You just can’t. You might cause a scene if you keep this up. You’re still torn between crying hysterically or just downright screaming at her face.

But her face. Her stupid, fucking perfect face.

You looked away. You focused on the people dancing specifically at Penelope grinding against Reid who’s only swaying awkwardly. That’s better.

Emily scooted closer to you but not close enough to invade your personal space still. “Do you hate me?”

You wanted to be rude. Tell her what does it look like, bitch? But that’s just not you. You’re not a confrontational woman. You’re an honest woman. And to be honest, you’re feeling a lot.

Instead, you gulped a drink and stared at it for a while, leaving Emily staring at your hand, waiting for an answer that may never come.

It took a few minutes for you to gather the strength to look her in the eyes. Your eyes may have been teary, you’re not sure, but everything else looks blurry and you feel lightheaded. You’re not even drunk yet. You only had two beers, for fuck’s sake.

You missed those eyes. Emily’s kind, loving, gentle, ‘used to see right through you’ eyes.

“You left me,” was all that came out of your mouth.

Emily moved closer to your seat, dark eyes still locked on yours as if asking for permission. “I was scared. I was young, Y/N.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “And I wasn’t? Your mother literally hired a private investigator to threaten me so I would stay away from you! I was 17, Emily! 17!” You hissed. Emily tried to reach out for your hand but you got up quickly and ran to the dance floor, to your friend. 

You whispered to Penelope’s ear that you needed to leave immediately to cover an emergency shift at the hospital. She knew better than to argue with you and your work so she let you go and told you not to worry about the tab. She offered to call you an uber but you insisted on walking since the hospital is only a few blocks away.

“Y/N, wait!”

“Emily, not now!” Your strides were getting bigger and you wished you could just fly home instead and get there faster. She grabbed your arm, pulling you to the side. And although it’s already dark outside, Emily can’t miss the way your eyes glisten with tears, staining your cheeks. “Please, Emily, just please.” You didn’t know what you’re actually asking - begging - her. You weakly placed a hand to her stomach and pushed to keep a little distance between the both of you. 

Emily took your shivering hand and held it to her chest instead. Her hands were as soft as you remembered them to be. And you hated the fact that you still remember that after so many years. “Please, Y/N, let me just talk to you.”

“What’s there to talk about? We made it this far in life without each other.” You said bitterly.

“But we didn’t want to.” She sighed. “At least, not for me.”

You took a deep breath in. Emily wiped the tears with her thumbs. Then she cupped your face and you couldn’t help but to just feel her for a minute, face settling on her warm hands. You look at her, eyes pleading. “Em, please.” 

Emily shuddered at the nickname. You were - are - the only one who could make it sound so soft and loved; make it sound like home. After all this time.

“Emily?” You both looked at the sound of Penelope’s voice. You quickly retracted your hand from Emily’s. “Y/N? You’re still here?”

“I, uh, Emily here just brought me my purse because I forgot.” You lied. Emily swallowed whatever she was about to say. You turned to Emily. “Thanks. I have to go now.”

“Oh, okay.” 

You hailed a cab and got out as fast as you can, leaving Emily dumbfounded and Penelope confused as she was intrigued.

___

Emily rubbed her hands together and exhaled loudly. Penelope raised her eyebrow. “What did you do?” She asked.

“What? I didn’t do anything.”

“For an FBI agent, you’re a bad liar right now, honey.” She squinted and took a closer look at Emily’s eyes. Teary. “Were you two making out?”

Emily scoffed. “You’re drunk, Garcia.”

“And you’re hiding something, Prentiss.”

“I’m not!” Penelope continued to stare at her suspiciously, pressing the truth out of her. “Okay, I think you should talk to her first. I can’t be the one to tell you if she doesn’t want to.”

“Did you know Y/N before I brought her here? I saw that you two were surprised to see each other a while ago. There was something there. It doesn’t take a profiler to see it.”

Emily paced back and forth, biting her lip, arms crossed. She stopped herself from biting her nails, a habit she may have done when she’s anxious. Emily contemplated whether to tell Penelope everything or something or anything. “God, I think I need something stronger than the drinks in the bar.”

“I’m waiting here, pudding.”

“And I’m thinking here.” She kept her pace. Then stopped. Emily takes a deep breath. “Y/N is … well, she was … is … I think …” she rambled, hands in her pockets. Emily looked up to keep the tears pooling in her eyes from falling. “Garcia, she’s the love of my life.” She stated weakly.

Penelope gaped at Emily like a deer caught in headlights.

___

Penelope arrived home at around 2:30 in the morning. You heard the lock click and footsteps approaching your door. You quickly pulled the covers above your head and pretended to sleep soundly.

“Y/N?” It’s your roommate. She caressed your foot. “I just want to say I’m sorry for bringing you out there tonight. I … I didn’t know you and … her …” Penelope sighed sadly. “We can talk about it when you’re ready or whenever you want or not at all. It’s up to you really. I just want to say I’m sorry.” She gave a light pat to your leg. “Good night, sweetie.”

___

The next morning, you found Penelope sitting in the kitchen having coffee and talking to someone on her laptop. You didn’t interrupt her, suspecting she might be working from home.

You prepared coffee for yourself and sat on the opposite end of the table. You pretended to scroll on your phone … waiting …

“Morning, baby girl,” Penelope finally decided to break the silence.

“Morning, Pen.”

“So …” There it was. You have known her for a long time to know that nothing - not even the strongest of hangover -  is stronger than her inquisitiveness. “Want to talk about the elephant in the room?”

You took a deep breath.

“I’m not forcing you, Y/N. I’m just asking if you’re ready because if you’re not, it’s fi -”

“And let you die of curiosity?” You hid your smirk behind your mug. Penelope smiled widely. “Did she tell you about me?”

“Emily?” You roll your eyes as if to say who else? “We haven’t had the chance to talk about our personal lives before but last night, she told me two things actually.”

“Oh?”

“One, that it might be better if I get the dirt from you. And two …” Penelope pauses, grinning. Is she actually pausing for dramatic effect?

“Spit it out, Penny.”

“I’m not sure if you want to know.”

“Just say it.”

“That you were -” Your friend shook her head. “ ARE. You are the love of her life.”

Oh.

There it was again. That tug in your chest. Are you dying? Maybe. You needed to get this checked out one of these days at the hospital, you thought. You might need an ECG or probably a 2D echo.

“Is it true?” Penelope pushed. “How did you two know each other?”

You walked to the living room with your coffee and sat on the couch. Penelope follows you.

“That love of her life part, I’m not sure.” You took a sip of your coffee. Black and bitter. “We met in high school. She was my girlfriend.”

Penelope scooted closer. “What happened?”

“Well, long story short -”

“No, I want the long complete detailed version, love bug.” You rolled your eyes at her and she smacked your arm. “You’ve been holding out on me!”

“Hey! I didn’t know my ex is working with you, okay?”

“Still! Everything really does happen for a reason.” She smiled to herself.

You raised an eyebrow. “And what’s the reason for this then?”

“We’ll see,” Penelope smirked. “Now, go on with the story, girlfriend.”

“We met in high school. She was a transferee. I was, well, an introvert with no friends. She was the new girl. I’m sure you know where I’m going with this.” You see Penelope with a shit-eating grin, nodding her head. “It took a week before I could say a word to her.”

“Because you’re so gay and she’s a pretty girl?” Penelope grinned.

You glared at her. “Because I was an introvert.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, she missed a class and asked if she wanted my notes and she said yes. We have been friends from then on.”

“Until…?”

“She was the first one to say ‘I love you’, you know?” Tears started pooling in your eyes. You immediately wiped it off with the end of your sweater before it even stained your cheeks. “We were in the locker room. Just the two of us after gym class. It was out of nowhere. We just finished showering -”

“Together?” Penelope gasped scandalously. You swatted her arm and she laughed. “I’m kidding.”

“Anyway, we just finished showering and she said she loved me. You have to understand that it was a time when you know … it’s not accepted nor tolerated to be … us.” Penelope took your hand and squeezed it. She could only sympathize, knowing how cruel and tough the world must be to not let people love who they love. “We hid it for a year, maybe two. I’m really not sure now, I think, but it was the longest time of my life. We were okay, great even. We had the most fun, enjoying each other’s company, sneaking around, going on dates. My mom met her. She liked her. Always asked about her when I get home.” You smile at the memory now but it quickly fades. “Until her mother found out about us.”

“Ambassador Prentiss? Oh, that evil -”

“Her mother sent a P.I. to threaten me so I would stay away from her daughter. I was 17 years old and scared, what else can I do?”

“Oh, honey,” Your friend pulled you into a hug. “I’m sorry the world has not been kind to you, sunshine.”

“Thanks, Penny.”

“You two broke up after that?”

You shook your head. “I was about to ask Emily what we should do. I was ready to run away, to hide, to go anywhere with her. I messaged her to meet me at the gym locker room after class the next day but she never showed up at the school at all.” Penelope noticed your trembling hands and gently caressed them. “I found out from the faculty that she moved overseas.”

“Thank you for sharing this with me. I know it’s hard for you, honey bun.”

“I just didn’t expect to see her last night … or ever. I stopped myself from looking for her again. Turns out, life has funny comebacks.” You chuckled bitterly. Penelope enveloped you in a tight hug until her phone rings. You giggle, “Work is calling you, badass computer nerd.”

___

When Penelope reached the BAU, Emily was the first one to spot her. She ran towards her, following Penelope to her office.

“Fabulous morning, person who hurt my roommate.” Penelope greeted without looking at Emily to which she replied with an eye roll. “Y/N told me everything.”

“Y/N told you everything about what?” Suddenly the two women stopped on their tracks and turned around. It’s JJ with take-out coffees in one hand and files on the other. “Come on, ladies. Share it with the team.”

“No!” They simultaneously yelled.

“Okay, chill.” JJ handed them each their coffees. “Share it with me. I’ll find out about it anyway.”

Penelope dragged the two women into her lair. Once locked inside, Penelope announced, “Y/N is your ex!”

“Garcia!” Emily hushed her.

JJ’s eyes were wide and almost spitted out her coffee. “I knew there was something!”

“What?” Emily looked genuinely confused.

“Emily, we’re profilers. We see everything.” JJ reminded her. “You were so awkward with her last night. I assume you guys haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“15 years.”

“And it’s still that awkward?” JJ scoffed unbelievably. “Must have been a bad break up.”

“Technically, they didn’t break up but Agent Prentiss here left my friend without saying goodbye.” Penelope squinted her eyes at Emily, arms folded and eyebrows raised.

Emily’s face was almost as red as her blouse now. “I didn’t … I didn’t want to.”

“Then why did you?”

“It’s com-”

A knock interrupted the ladies’ gossip session. “Ladies, Hotch wants us in the briefing room ASAP.” Morgan told them.

“Be right there!” JJ replied. “We’ll continue this later. Over drinks. Just the three of us. Ladies’ night.”

Emily saw no way out of this so she just nodded.

___

It was a terribly bad day at work. The ER was filled with too many people. Patients kept on coming without showing signs of slowing down. Every bed was occupied - some were already in the hallway in wheelchairs - and everyone had something to do. You have not had breakfast or lunch yet. Your cup of coffee left cold at the doctor’s quarters which you’re sure someone threw out already.

Sometimes you wonder why you chose this career instead of just pursuing your love for multimedia arts.

“Doc,” a senior nurse called you. “I have your patient’s labs and ECG right here.” She hands you the chart. “X-ray results are to follow. Let me know if you’ll be requesting more. Bed 5.”

“Okay.” You walked towards the bed, reviewing your patient's chart. Name … age …

Name?

Now the world was playing a prank on you.

“Emily Prentiss?” You call your patient’s name as soon as you draw the curtains. Emily looked up to you, lying on the bed, beaming too much for someone who’s injured. There’s a small stain of blood on her tank top. You felt something stuck in your throat as worry fills your thoughts yet you retain your poker face.

“Y/N?”

“Dr. Y/F/N, resident. I’m,” you cleared your throat. You put down the chart on the bedside table. “I’m here to examine you. Can you tell me what happened?”

Emily adjusted herself on the bed with a grimace. “I got shot. Almost. I was wearing a vest but I think it left a graze.” Emily lifted her top to show you. You don your gloves and inspect the wound closely, pressing softly at the area. You suspect she might have taken more than one close hit from the way the graze looked. Your eyes panned to her eyes staring at your hands.

“Did you get hit elsewhere, Agent?”

“No,” Emily shook her head. But your eyes found fresh bruises on both of her arms. “It’s fine, doesn’t hurt.”

“You’re always a tough cookie, agent?”

“I have to be.”

“Of course.” You assessed the rest of her body, especially her head for any bumps or cuts. Apart from the bullet graze on her chest and the bruises on her arms, you didn’t find anything else worthy of concern or emergency so far. “Do you feel anything else? Any pain?”

Emily had many answers to that but she bit her tongue. It’s not the time and place. She shook her head instead.

“Okay, I’ll get someone to clean and dress your wound. I’ll order an intravenous painkiller. It will take care of the first six hours, at least, but I’ll also prescribe you some oral painkillers and have your home care instructions ready. Do you have someone I can talk to?”

“I, uh, I think JJ is around somewhere. Or Reid.”

“Any relatives?”

“They’re all I have.” There was a small pause. “We take care of each other.”

“Yeah, of course. Part of the job.” You wrote your initial reports on her chart before leaving. “So, uh … I’ll call the nurse.” You turned around but Emily grabbed the end of your coat. “Anything else, Agent Prentiss?”

“Can you, if it’s not too much to ask, can you do the IV thing? I just …”

“You hate needles.” I know.

She nodded. “Please?”

Fuck. How can you say no when she’s looking at you with those eyes? Dark, pleading and consuming.

You can lie and tell her you have other patients to attend to but so far, no nurse had called you yet. You hear another resident had come in, too.

Emily’s eyes and hand were still on you.

“Okay,” you finally said. “I’ll be right back.”

Just your dumb, stupid luck.

___

Your shift ended at around 10pm but it’s almost midnight when you got out of the hospital. You already changed your top into a purple t-shirt. You carried your bags, coat hanging on your arm, as you walked to your car. You couldn’t wait to go home and wash off the busy day you had.

You stopped by to take out Chinese food for you and Penelope and a little extra to reheat tomorrow for breakfast.

You heard the TV as you approached the door. Penelope must still be awake and watching a show. You opened the door with your keys and to your surprise, one of your patients today was sitting on your couch. Your eyes met briefly.

“Hey, sweetie pie!” Penelope cornered you and grabbed hold of the take-outs. “Let me talk to you for a minute.” Penelope excused herself and you, dragging you to the kitchen. “I’m sorry Emily’s here but somebody’s got to take care of her and she lives alone. I figured since you’re here and you’re a doctor, this will be the safest choice. If that’s alright with you, of course.”

“Do I really have a choice?”

“No.” Your roommate grinned widely.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “Then it’s fine. I’m going to my room. I had a long day.”

“But aren’t you going to eat? You can watch TV with us.”

“I lost my appetite.” You mumbled. You walked to your room and Emily caught you on the way. She stopped in front of you. “What?”

“I’m sorry for staying. The team insisted and -”

“It’s fine, Agent Prentiss.”

Emily frowned. “You don’t have to be so formal.”

“I’m sorry but I’m really tired. I just want to go to bed.”

“Okay, sorry,” She stepped to the side and you walked past her. “Y/N?” You looked back at her. “Thank you for today.”

You flashed her a small smile.

___

You woke up the next morning to a loud scream. You quickly got up and ran to the living room. Your hair still disheveled and pajama pants hanging a little low.

“Is there a fire?” You asked, confused and half awake.

“Sorry for waking you, sunshine. But I cannot do this.” Penelope handed you a gauze, medical tape and scissors. “Help us, oh sweet lord of ER.”

You yawned then sat next to Emily. You disinfected your hands with alcohol and proceeded to clean her wound with povidone-iodine. She winces a little. “Hurts?”

“A little.”

“Well, it’s supposed to.”

“Wow, aren’t you grumpy in the morning.” Emily teased, earning a glare from you and a slightly painful poke. “Ow! Hey, be gentle please. I’m already hurt.” She pouted.

“You have a dangerous job. Couldn’t you be more careful?” You retorted, annoyed.

“Well, I’m sorry the UnSub has a gun and tried to kill me.”

You ignored her mumbling. “Do you have the day off?”

“Hotch gave me the week off.” Emily answered, clearly disappointed. “I can’t believe my doctor suggested a week's rest. It’s not even that bad, right?”

You bit the inside of your cheeks. “And you know better than your doctor?”

Emily smiled. “I guess not.”

You finished cleaning up her wound and changing the dressing. You picked up an ice pack from the fridge and handed it to her. “Ice your bruises. No more than 15 minutes at a time.”

“Yes, doc.”

“Don’t call me doc.”

“You’re a doctor.”

“We’re not in the hospital.”

Emily leaned forward, a little too close to your face. “What should I call you then?”

Up close, you noticed her lower lip has a small cut while her upper lip … well, there’s nothing wrong with it.

You tried not to focus too much on her lips. Tried is the keyword. 

Then, you suddenly felt like your ghost floated above you and gave the back of your head a cold hard slap. Your eyes quickly darted up to her own brown orbs, intently staring back at you. 

“I’d rather you not call me anything at all.” You said firmly and got up. Emily watched you march back to your room.  A small smirk formed on Emily’s face.

You lied on your bed. Heart pounding, head somewhat dizzy, cheeks flushed.

Fuck Emily Prentiss and her stupid, stupid, tempting lips.

___

The three of you ended up watching your second classic film one afternoon with Penelope sitting between you and Emily. You didn’t like the movie that much honestly. You walked to the kitchen to make yourself your favorite drink - soda with vanilla ice cream.

“You still like that huh?” Emily sneaked up behind you. “It’s diabetes in a glass.”

“Guilty.” You took a sip. “It’s my comfort drink.”

“It sure is.”

“What do you need? Ice?”

“You, actually.”

“Why? Something hurts?”

“Nothing you can heal.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m serious.”

“So am I, Y/N.” Emily stepped closer to you. “I was wondering if we can finally have a talk.”

“We’re watching a movie.”

“Penelope’s just fine.” You both glanced at Penelope who turned her head back to the TV at breakneck speed.

“She put you up to this huh?” You took a seat and you gestured to Emily to do the same. There’s no use avoiding ‘the talk’ anyway as it looks like Emily might live here for the whole week whether you liked it or not. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Us.”

“Us?”

Emily ran her hands through her hair, not knowing where to start. “I didn’t want to leave.”

Fifteen years.

It’s been fifteen years since you last saw Emily. Both of you were still kids - young, innocent, carefree, hopeful. The day Emily left your life, you were a wreck. You did good at school, acing exams after exams, and eventually got to medical school on partial scholarship. Outside, you tried to be the perfect little golden daughter your parents and teachers expected you to be. Inside? You were empty. You felt as if you’re a shallow case of a person.

The first five years since Emily left, you graduated from high school. You got multiple part time jobs before applying to universities. In between those busy times, you tried to find her - called her up on her phone every single day for three years, wrote letters to her last known address every month for two years. Once, you even tried to sneak into their house but the security guard spotted you and almost caught you. You almost had a bald spot from the security grabbing your hair.

By the sixth year since Emily had gone, you stopped. You realized it’s not healthy anymore. You were holding on to a ghost. So you learned to live the next years of your life without her. After finishing your degree in biochemistry, you moved to LA with your father. You got yourself into UCLA and pursued medicine.

The med school journey wasn’t a smooth ride at all. Yes, you didn’t fail one subject during med school but the harder part came later - the actual practice. You struggled with a lot of things but mostly socializing with different people - strangers - whose life depended on you and your capabilities.

It was only five years ago that you finally started to feel somewhat confident with yourself. Not perfect but you weren’t getting yelled at as much by the attendings anymore. A senior resident even complimented your improvement which meant a lot to you.

Long story short, you survived without her.

Her name had become a memory pushed and tucked away in the back of your mind. You locked it and threw away the key. You had stopped yourself from waiting for answers as to why she walked out on you or why she didn’t fight for you ages ago.

Well.

Until now.

“Y/N,” Emily placed her hand on top of yours and you were quick to retract it. It was a reflex at this point. “Sorry.” She kept her hands under the table. “I know apologizing won’t erase anything that happened to us but I’m really sorry, love.”

“Don’t call me that.” You clenched your jaw. “Just tell me why.”

“She, my mother … she took me to the Middle East when she found out about us. I should have known, I should have seen, that we were being followed by her men every time we went out. She tossed the photos - our photos - to my face. She called me disgusting and immoral and a fucking disappointment all because I loved you.” The last part came out as a mumble but you caught it.

Your eyebrows relaxed, eyes softened. The waterworks in your eyes were threatening to fall again. Damn it.

How would a 17-year-old expect this from her own mother? How was she supposed to know?

“She had all your information and your family’s and I was so afraid that she would come for you.” Emily continued, now looking down at her hands, trembling in fear and probably embarrassment of being vulnerable and open. “I knew she would come for you. She told me so. I will set that girl straight if that’s what it takes, that’s what she said. And you have no idea how that sentence scarred me until now.” Emily takes a deep shuddering breath. “The thought of you being hurt because of me … us … I couldn’t bear that, Y/N. I had to protect you so I made her swear to leave you alone and in exchange I will follow whatever she wanted me to do, whatever she wanted me to be.” Emily glanced back up to you, eyes defenseless and face flushed. “I just want you alive and safe.”

“Emily …”

“You don’t have to forgive me now or ever if you don’t want to. Or if you can’t. That’s okay. I can live with that … I think.” Your ex-girlfriend sat up straight, faked a smile. “But I want you to know that when I got to the Bureau, I did look for you.”

Your eyes met. And from what Penelope was seeing from the living room, everything was evident: the longing, the pain, the memories.

“I found out you got into med school in LA. I was so happy for you, you know that. I knew you would make it. I remember you wanted to be a surgeon at first but then you said you liked kids so maybe pedia -”

“Why didn’t you call?”

“I couldn’t … I wanted to, Y/N. I have wanted so badly for years. But when I remember about what I put you through, what my mother put you -”

“Us,” you corrected. “What your mother put us through.”

Emily nodded. “I just couldn’t ruin your life like that again.”

“Do you still talk to her? Your mother.”

“Not anymore. We haven’t been in contact since the last case she brought to the FBI.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Can’t miss someone you don’t know.”

You gave her a sad smile. “You’re strong, Emily.”

“Sometimes I think it’s a curse.”

“It will take some time,” you mumbled. Emily stared at you, waiting for what you meant. “Forgiving you, I mean.”

“I know. You don’t have to.”

“But I understand, Emily. I understand now.”

You shared a friendly smile. You leaned forward to wipe the tear from Emily’s cheek.

Emily held your wrist, feeling your hand on her cheek. You two stayed like that for a few seconds. You were the first one to let go but before going, you left a tender kiss on her forehead to which Emily closed her eyes, feeling your lips against her skin for the first time in a long time.

The moment was almost ruined when you and Emily heard a shriek from the living room and saw Penelope stuffing her mouth with ice cream. Clearly, she saw everything.

You and Emily chuckled.

“Em,” you softly whispered. “I’m sorry too.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Sorry the world wasn’t kind. To you. To us.”

Emily frowned. “It’s not your fault.”

None of this was your fault or Emily’s as it turns out. Now that everything was out in the open, a blossoming hope grew in your heart as you looked at Emily. All the sadness, anger and pain you felt the first time you laid eyes on her at the bar, you felt that diffusing quickly.

Maybe it’s not such a bad idea. 

To just kiss her. Just once. Again.

Or hug her.

You don’t know. All you know is that you missed her. And although she looked much older than you remembered her to be - so are you - you still remembered looking at her eyes all those years ago. At the locker room. During classes. At the carnival. At the mall. In your childhood room. The street two blocks away from her house.

Emily stood up, eye level with yours, as if she read your mind. She leaned forward. Your lips now close to hers that you can feel her take a breath. She waited for you to pull away or to ran to your room but you didn’t. The next thing you know was Emily closing the gap between both of your lips.

The kiss was soft. Like the first time when you were two young girls at the locker room the first time she told you that she loves you. Yet, it was also intoxicating, exciting. You felt a jolt of electricity running through your whole body.

The kiss was also quick. It was done before you know it.

Emily flashed a smile. “I’d like to do that again.”

“Me too,” You mentally kicked yourself at how quick you responded to that.

“Let me take you out on a date sometime.”

How can you say no to her?

The answer is you don’t.

“I’d like that, Em.”

“Friday? 10pm? I’ll pick you up?”

“It’s like you know my work schedule.”

“Lucky guess,” Emily smirked. “Let’s go before Penelope dies of excitement. She’s literally red and might combust.”

“Don’t worry, I’m here if she codes.” You share a laugh.

You couldn’t wait for Friday to come.

#emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss #paget brewster x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds angst #jaye writes #emily prentiss x female reader

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | MS47 | Part. 19

― Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Hamilton!reader (she/her) ― Warnings: curse words, Twitter environment, mention of food, not proofread, etc, etc. Minors DNI! ― Summary: Yn is finally back on the paddock, but no apparent signs of interaction between her and Mick are seen which worries fans. She is also seen with her ex and suddenly a soft launch is on course. What's really going on? ―  A/n: none of the pictures used are mine, they are all from Pinterest and other apps. Everything else is made up by me, and I do not allow it to be published on a different platform. I would appreciate it if those things could be taken into consideration 💛

⁕ part. 18 | series masterlist | part. 20 ⁕ my masterlist | my taglist here ⁕ Support my writing by reblogging, and leaving me a message 🤍

theofficialyn

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theofficialyn japan dump 🤍❤️ 🇯🇵

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crazyf1 lily, kika, and carmen? I would say this is a soft launch

⤷ lewisrussell babe, do you need help?

⤷ crazyf1 bestie, there are only wags in the picture, she's clearly getting us used to the fact that she's one too! 😘

⤷ shoemacker47 as if the whole fandom hasn't been talking about it since the start of the year lol

lilyhme I was hoping for a better pic 🥸

⤷ carmenmmundt at leats you're not screaming like mine

⤷ theofficialyn omg shut up, I'm still learning 😔😭

⤷ franciscac.gomes britney survived 2007, you sure can handle the hardships of having your own jpg account 🫵

keepupwhamiltons I love their bickering, I wanna be their friends too ugh

ynwinter she's finally back!!!!!!!!! <3

swissmick I'm excited for her outfit on Sunday hihi

landonorris why wasn't I invited to this camera convo?

⤷ rainbowrussel it's wag exclusive 💅🏻

⤷ landonorris oooh-

⤷ seb2002 OMG THE WAY HE DIDN'T DISAGREE LOL

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: I know I promised to post two (three) days ago, but I had some health issues, and something came up, so I couldn't work on it properly, and I didn't wanna just post whatever. I hope the waiting was worth it, the next chapter is coming soon <3 Thank you for all the reblogs, comments, and likes on the last chapter and on the series in general. I see it all, and I treasure each of them, thank you sm guys <3

taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mickslover @fdl305 @mishaandthebrits @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintslewis @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @shhhchriss @smiithys @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @baby-is-crying @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @v1naco @elliegrey2803 @he6rtshaker @therealcap @mehrmonga @thatgibbsygirl @the-depressed-fellow @cixrosie @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @minkyungseokie @nichmeddar

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#millie writes #ms47 #mick schumacher #mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher social media au #mick schumacher x black!reader #f1 angst #social media au f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 instagram au #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fandom #komh #mick schumacher instagram au #f1 instagram edit #f1 x black!reader

[bluedalahorse]

I think I’ll say this once, since I need to say it before I can move on to more excited posting about promos and things:

Obviously Young Royals means a lot to me. It’s become another way for me to connect with my hyphenated-American heritage and to start teaching myself Swedish again. It helped me survive a pretty brutal year of bullying at work. It made me confident enough to start the process of getting formally evaluated for autism and ADHD. I’ve been writing a 200k+ historical AU fanfic for YR—the kind of fic I always read and adored back in fandoms when I was younger, the kind of fic I wanted to write myself. I’m proud of the way that Heart and Homeland has made me a better writer, and I’m glad for the way it’s deepened my friendship with @heliza24. It is Young Royals in part that inspired by thesis on restorative justice in YA literature. When I was in the hospital last fall because I almost had a literal stroke from stress, I was comforted and kept calm by the fact that I was wearing a YR t-shirt and had a plush doll of a YR character sitting in my lap. And all of that is the short list.

As we come close to the release date, I hope that every single member of the fandom gets something they enjoy in the new season. I don’t think every person is going to get everything they want, but I genuinely hope there’s a moment, a scene, a line that brings them joy. We’ve all stuck with this series for a while, and I want us all to have something we can take with us. A little bit of sparkle for the road, if you will.

There’s of course the possibility that some of us get a lot of what we want, and others of us are let down. I know this was the case for season 2, and it feels naive to imagine that everyone in the fandom will be equally satisfied by season 3. I’ve got my fingers crossed that I’ll enjoy the hell out of it, but I’m also trying to prepare my heart in case it’s not what I wanted. I’m trying to gently talk to myself right now and say that even if the third season leaves me upset and unsatisfied—even if the writing takes a nosedive or it’s good writing but it’s just not what I wanted—that I still learned a lot about crafting stories and being myself and surviving hardship and thinking about systems and whatever else, from this show. That my experience with the first two seasons still matters, that my work on my fic is something to be proud of. If season 3 is a disappointment, Heart and Homeland will be my new canon. I’m sure there are other people out there talking themselves up in this way too. I know we’re all pushing through the pre-season jitters.

The other thing I’m trying to reconcile right now is how I feel about the promotional material that’s come out, and the conversations around that. Like on my own, I actually feel pretty great? It’s fun to see the new stuff come in? But then I think about the ratio of Wilmon to other things and some of the responses I’m seeing to that. And I see people say like “oh the show is back to focusing on what’s actually good about it” and “it’s great that they’re doing this because the audience doesn’t really care about characters who aren’t Wilmon.” And… hello? Aren’t I the audience? Tumblr isn’t too bad (most of the time) but then there’s like, Instagram, where the Netflix Nordic posted whole set of photos of different pairs and friendships from a whole bunch of shows, and there was one (1) picture of Sara and Rousseau and I saw enough comments where people were like “ew! Vomit! Give us Wilmon instead!” that like… y’all. Frida Argento is a human being and a damn good actress, and Lisa is a good writer of female characters, and like. We can celebrate that, once in a while. We can create space for her too. It’s not Frida OR Omar and Edvin. It’s Frida AND Omar AND Edvin AND Nikita AND Malte AND Nathalie AND Mimmi AND Fabian AND Samuel AND… look I could keep on listing but I’m going to get distracted if I do.

Like, man. I love Wilmon. Don’t get me wrong. I love the complexity their relationship can run with. There are lines heliza has written for them in fic that make me swoon and I am giddy about the part where I get to read them first. I love the glowsticks. I love Wilmon’s sense of humor and the part where they cheated at Vincent’s rowing race thing and their utmost commitment to being dumbass teenage boys against the world. The first week I saw the show and came into work (where we have an athletic field) I went and took a selfie on the field after covering my hands in those gross fake dots. Look. I am all in.

And also… I came to the show for Wilmon but I stayed for so much more. I would have watched Young Royals once or twice and said “that was pleasant” without ever getting back into fanfic after a decade away, if the show was only Wilmon. I do like Wilmon, but it wasn’t Wilmon who inspired my thesis on restorative justice or made me a better writer overall. I survived that year of bullying at work because I could come home and write my ensemble fanfic, especially the parts where I focused on the non-Wilmon pairing I was in charge of writing. I finally felt confident enough to be evaluated for AuDHD because of a connection I felt to a character who wasn’t Simon or Wilhelm. It was a plush doll of a non-Wilmon character who sat in my lap and kept me calm while I was hooked up to those scary machines in the hospital this past October.

I guess my one humble request is that people be thoughtful about how they use phrases like “everyone thinks” or “no one wants.” Not every member of the fandom has the same opinion, and not every member wants the same things out of season 3, and there are some of us who are happy about the new Wilmon content but who are still feeling a little hungry for more of our most beloved characters, and hope they’ll get meaningful storylines (and not get ignored) in season 3. I do know we probably won’t all get what we want, and that some of us will probably get more of what we want than others. I hope that whatever happens, we’ll all get something we want, and we can all be gracious about it, and continue to find meaning in the canon.

For the people here on tumblr who are already including me in their everyone… thank you, thank you, thank you. I hope you know who you are and I hope you know how much I appreciate you. And I do hope this Little Fandom That Could can keep going into all sorts of new creative places.

#young royals #young royals season 3 #young royals season 3 spoilers #yrs3 spoilers

[myyoungroyalsblog]

Red, White and Royal Blue fic rec part 2 (part 1)

*Note: I have a lot of unfinished fics in my subscriptions but since there are over 120+ fics there from other fandoms too I won’t be able to add those, when they are finished I’ll do another post in the future!

*Also couldn't find some of these writers here on tumblr, if you know tell me and I’ll add their @ beside it!

MULTI-CHAPTER

Things I Cannot Accept

18 chapters, 69.703 words

By @sprigsofviolets AU where Ellen lost the election in 2016 and Henry and Alex reconnect in 2019. Super cute and interesting story, with a lot of fluff and angst, amazingly written!

Captious (calculated to confuse, entrap or entangle in argument)

3 chapters, 14.256 words

Blind date AU... Well... Sort of... You'll know when you read it hehe but honestly so so sweet with a bit of angst but so much fluff!

My Only Wish (This Year)

7 chapters, 26.374 words

By @dracowillhearaboutthis AU where Henry marries a woman and has two daughters, set 10 years later and Alex and Henry reconnect, and maybe a romance blooms... Of course it does lol very cute kid fic (with a bit of angst too) but still lots of fluff!

Comfort Crowd

8 chapters, 12.098 words

To all the boys I've loved before AU, I don't like the film but since I'm such a sucker for these two of course I read it and got obsessed with it afajsgshsvsg

And they call it—

2 chapters, 10.148 words

By @clottedcreamfudge AU where Alex can talk to animals, so when Henry needs a dog sitter he goes to Alex, and he and David obviously talk about Henry. So funny and fluffy, guaranteed to make you smile!

(do i really have to tell you) how he brought me back to life?

7 chapters, 38.498 words

By @coffeecatsme High school AU where Henry gets kicked out by Mary and lives with Alex's family. A whole lot of angst and a whole lot of fluff, just a superb story!

I'm Taking A Ride With My Best Friend

23 chapters, 79.302 words

By @cultofsappho The Last of Us AU where Henry is immune and Alex helps him get to the fireflies in hopes to create a vaccine. If you've watched the tv show or played the game, you know how this goes lol could not recommend it enough, so much angsty but has fluffy moments too! And the writing is impeccable

i'd lie

6 chapters, 18.058 words

AU where Alex and June move to England with thier mum and have the Fox family as their neighbours, we see the super six throughout the years and how Henry lies might not work anymore... If you want angst, this is the fic for you

ONE SHOT

talk too much

3.307 words

By @lazybug16 Alex has his wisdom teeth removed and Henry takes care of him, just fluff fluff fluff, super adorable (yes self promo because I'm very proud of this fic, I love it)

I trace your constellations

13.498 words

Soulmates, coffee shops and demi Henry AU, just pure flirting and fluff, suuuuuuper cute read!

Never Truly Leave

2.443 words

By @clottedcreamfudge Catherine finds a letter that Arthur wrote... To Alex. We cry alongside Alex as he reads it; very emotional, it will make you cry, and fall in love with these characters all over again, could not recommend enough

you knew the entire time (you knew that i'm a mastermind)

8.239 words

By @coffeecatsme Uni and autistic Henry AU, we see Alex and Henry fall in love. Fluffy but also a bit of angst, you just want to protect Henry and tell him everything is going to be okay

starry eyes sparking up my darkest nights

16.367 words

By @coffeecatsme Hugh school AU where Arthur is also alive and becomes like a second father to Alex. Very very sweet with a bit if angst as well, you'll love it and might have a few happy tears towards the end

learning to love (without it having to hurt)

4.861 words

AU where they aren't famous and they are roommates. We see Henry figure out his asexuality and Alex be there for him, and them getting together of course :) very very sweet read!

The last letter

2.173 words

By @floatingaway4 They are in the afterlife, at peace. This weiter managed to combine angst and fluff at the exact same time and I don't know how they did it, it will make you ugly happy cry!

Fourty-Four Days

8.675 words

They are living in the Brownstone when Henry needs to go to europe for the shelters and Alex to California for a campaign, and they end up not seeing each other for 44 days, and it's too much. Angsty but then fluffy, it just hurts seeing them miss each other so so much

take me out, and take me home

11.837 words

Roommates AU and we see Alex get some feelings, only friendly feelings of course... Really cute story and ending!

i’d take the bomb in your head and disarm it

22.392 words

By @evanbuvkley roommates AU and friends to angsty friends to lovers afahsgsjshdj so much angst that you might cry but a bit of fluff too (happy ending don't worry) such an engaging story, very well executed

and I wrote down our song

6.072 words

AU where Alex is a musician and Henry isn't a prince and they meet at a bar where Alex is performing. Super cute and we see how they fall in love and grow and it's just full of joy!

Group therapy

3.243 words

By @stutteringpeach AU where Ellen is Henrys therapist and he is dating Alex and talks to Ellen about their relationship, without knowing that it's actually his boyfriends mum... They "meet" at a family cook out and its honestly hilarious lmao you will not stop laughing

#I made this draft on this blog cause I started it before I made my rwrb blog lol #rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue fic #firstprince #mine #queue

[authorhjk1]

December Special!

Round Two!!

Hi everyone! This will be our last and final round throughout the coming week. The links in this post will direct you to the four polls for the four chapters. Keep in mind that I will decide on the order randomly as I write along.

I put all the options into this post, beacuse I do not have the nerve to type all of this four times. Tumblr doesn't let me copy text and paste it into a post.

Have fun!

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

Chapter

1.

You knew this might happen. You read the script of your knew role in the upcoming kdrama. And yet, you are surprised when your co-star pulls you aside after filming that day. Seo Yeaji's face can switch in a heartbeat. From a cold and emotionless mask, to an adorable , cute smile. While she asks you, if the two of you could practice the next scene, her face shows a new expression. Lust. It's quite a spicy scene after all.

2.

Idols are always stressed, overworked and tired. On top of that, they can't even relax properly. They have to be careful about their food, words and actions. And one thing, that some people might neglect, is sexual satisfaction. That becomes a problem for Karina, Jihyo and Eunbi. Having bigger breasts only adds to their problems. Due to stress, their milk production starts to rise. When the three of them invite you to join their pre-Christmas party, they obviously have ulterior motives.

3.

IU's and Kang Seulgi's competition started, when they caught each other, having sex backstage during an award show, a couple of months ago. At first, it picked up slowly. Random challenges, send via text on kakaoTalk app, answered by pictures as proof of the accomplished mission. Now, the two of them are tied, desperate to come up with something new. Luckily, IU and Seulgi have a lot of fans, who are more than happy to help them out.

4.

You and Irene are coworkers with a special history. The two of you tried out more kinks and positions and places than even married couples. But some things are still missing. Luckily, Irene has a friend who got hired a couple of weeks ago. You were planning on welcoming her properly anyways.

5.

After just being hired by Dreamcatcher Company, you are already tasked with shooting Jiu's and SuA's special clip. Jiu knows that you are an Insomnia and that SuA is your bias. Maybe you will get to shoot another type of special clip with the two of them, thanks to Jiu.

6.

You meet your exgirlfriend IU at a high school friend's wedding. After the memories of your school times come back, the two of you sneak off.

7.

You have worked with a couple of idols already. They are often models and embassadors for brands after all. Now you are tasked with filming a small video to promote Jimmy Choo's newly designed dress. The woman who appears in your studio is no other than Cho Miyeon.

8.

Yuna has always been quite kinky. But her Christmas present for you this year is on another level. It's Ryujin. She is kneeling on her bed, wrapped in red lingerie and a bow like a gift. Her hands are tied behind her back, while her eyes are covered with a red blindfold.

9.

You have already tried everything. Drinking warm milk with honey, listening to music, reading a book. Nothing. Working out, spending more time on your job. Nothing. Even after bringing that girl home last night, Yunjin, you vaguely remember her name, didn't help at all. You still can't fall asleep. It's late at night and you are lying in bed once more. Sleepless. Then, your doorbell rings. That must be your neighbor. Chaewon. After telling her about your insomnia, she said she might know aomething.

10.

Going to college is already hard enough, considering your background. Bad grades, devorced father, stepmother and stepsister and so on. The only reason you got in was because of your scholarship. You are not a good student. But a talented football player. And now everything becomes even more difficult. While trying to learn for your upcoming test, someone knocks on your door. Tzuyu, your stepsister. Her and her mom, Jihyo, seemed to have gotten into a huge fight once again. Can you cheer her up?

11.

The one thing you love most about your job is the fact that you see beautiful women pretty much every day. Being a photographer enables you to make them take any kind of pose in any kind of outfit. Of course, when you started your career, you never thought about it like this. Until you meet Im Yoona.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #male reader #lee jieun #gidle #le sserafim #twice #aespa #red velvet #dreamcatcher

[gemapples]

see you in 2024 💗💗

very personal ramble about my year and experiences, etc. under the cut. kind of neg just a warning but if anyone would be willing to read it the whole way through i'd appreciate it so so much

2023 was certainly... a year for me. had many highs but a Ton of lows, went forward one step but took two steps back. i'd be lying if i said i didnt struggle and know what to do for a lot of it

i did get to meet and even become friends with people i look up to, got to learn new things i didn't know before. and one of the problems i noticed throughout this year is i spent way more time than i needed to focusing on my usefulness for others and what i can do for people rather than prioritizing myself and my mental health. i think a lot of problems i experienced in 2023 was due to me getting too caught up in how i'm perceived by others (especially on social media like tumblr). for 2024 i want to work on this and be sure to put myself first in every situation and be the best person i see myself as -- not overdo it for the sake of others. i'm going to try being more straightforward with myself and how i choose to approach people. i want to be more involved in this fandom and get to know more people who love kirby better rather than just hiding away and watching from the side like i have for many years, waiting for them to approach me first at some point. i made a lot of progress on this a lot in 2023 but i could always be better :')

regardless though, i wouldn't have been nearly as ready to get back on track if it weren't for the support you all have given me throughout this year. august and september were two of the worst months i've ever experienced; i won't get into it (if you know you know), but goddd was it harder than i can even describe. i've never had to go through something that resulted in me questioning my Entire artistic ability, my whole worth, and whether everything i've grown and learned from is just completely fake. i couldn't look at my work and all of my social medias without being completely disgusted and disappointed with myself. i'm in art student too, so you can imagine how fucking hard it was to balance and muscle through that as well lol. it was nothing but hell. if i didn't get the support i did from everyone, i can say with full confidence i wouldn't have been able to pick up my pencil phone and get back to drawing Nearly as quickly as i did. in fact, i probably would still be deeply effected by it and not have the motivation to continue posting for at least a long while. so i seriously can't thank you enough for that. all the words i was told still stick with me to this day and gave me a reason to keep pushing and learn to better understand myself

im tearing up as i write this so i'll have to cut it short LOL but i want to express how deeply it means to me that through all the conflict i've experienced throughout this year, you guys were there for me and were so generous to offer your time to support me and help me out. knowing i make at least one person smile and enjoy what i post is enough for me. hopefully 2024 will be easier on the emotional rollercoasters, i think all of us could use a long break from chaos really lol

thanks for everything and i love you

-mac

#i dont like being this vulnerable on main but yeah #thank you and happy 2024

[lopsicle]

Okay,like a couple minutes ago I learned that it is actually trans day of visibility today soo woohoo! Kind of hard to celebrate in this shithole called the UK though, so I’m going to hide on tumblr and talk about which characters I think are trans coded or just Headcanon as trans because it’s my day I can do that now heheheh-

Also, I’m just tryna do a little thing for trans visibility day, I like being opaque, I ain’t trying to start any arguments, if you see a Headcanon you disagree with, just scroll. And if you think I’m biased towards transfem characters, it’s because I am and I ain’t apologising for that, they’re underrated in terms of fandom and obvs I’m transfem so I love them and relate to them more. Transmasc characters still will be on this list though as there’s so many that I love.

Characters That I Think Are Transgender Because Fuck You

Number one: Hunter Noceda (The Owl House)

This was probably the easiest and hardest pick for the list, for a couple reasons. Number one, I don’t think there’s a single person who agreed this pathetic wet cat is cisgender. Whether you think he’s transmasc, transfem, something else entirely, he ain’t cis. It’s clear why the fandom clung to Hunter as the resident trans character, him having a secret identity via The Golden Guard (seriously, any character with a secret identity is immediately trans, I don’t make the rules), the overconfident attitude mixed with deep insecurity and his arc about finding a way to ‘like who he is right now’ in Thanks To Them really just sealed the deal. Other little details like how his hair cuts helped him find his new identity did not help his case.

While I personally think he’s transfem, and am just using he/him because that’s his canon pronouns, Hunter is one of those characters that a lot of people can identify with which is what The Owl House is really about so I kinda had to include him on this list. The reason it was a hard decision is because holy fuck, every single character in this show is trans. Deciding between him and Amity was the hardest choice of my life because transfem Amity is heavily underrated and I love her, but you really can’t compete with Hunter, he’s had an amazing influence on the fandom and the character has probably helped a lot of people come to terms with their identity.

To summarise, Hunter is a great character, I miss him everyday, I miss The Owl House everyday, he was cool as fuck and a lotta people identified with him.

Anne Boonchuy (Amphibia)

This is one that I feel is heavily underrated, and that’s coming from someone that took two years after the show ended to watch Amphibia. With Amphibia, pretty much all of the human characters are Headcanonned (is that a word?) as some part of the trans umbrella but Anne is the one who does not get enough attention, especially for a main character.

At least to me, Anne was very transfem-coded in the show, everything from her raggedy appearance, to her essentially assuming a new life in Amphibia to the arc about accepting who you are to THE SONG ABOUT ACCEPTING WHO YOU ARE-this was the most in your face, trans-coded rep I could ever ask for. But she is criminally underrated in terms of being viewed as trans rep even though I’ve found her story one of the most compelling in terms of trans coded storylines in nearly any piece of media I’ve ever seen. Give Anne more attention, she’s literally the best. Marcy and Sasha are cool too but Anne’s writing deserves so much more praise than it gets.

Dipper Pines (Gravity Falls)

If you haven’t realised it yet, this entire list so far is just one massive fuck you to Disney because fuck Disney. Dipper was the closest we got to having a canon trans main character in a mainstream animated show and it was taken from us, fuck Disney y’all. But still, Alex has all but confirmed Dipper’s identity as trans masculine, you can see remnants of that arc with him learning that he’s a man in his own right and masculinity being something he can define for himself, the whole thing about Dipper actually being a nickname, and him bonding with the men in his life, like Stan.

Even though I didn’t notice it when I was a kid watching the show, rewatching it now with the knowledge of Dipper’s identity makes the experience a bit more personal, I can see bits of myself in Dipper and I think that’s the whole point of his character. Watching it as a kid you can relate to him because of his sarcasm, his bluntness, his comedy but also because of how heroic, adventurous and curious he is, he’s basically the idealistic role of the viewer. But as you get older and think more critically about him, you can see more of his flaws and that makes him so much more real and so much more relatable. Obviously being trans isn’t a flaw, that was just me doing a side tangent because Dipper means the world to me and is only the standard of writing a cartoon protagonist in some ways, I just think he’s a really cool character and Disney robbed us.

Also Pacifica is transfem because TfT couples are hecking adorable

Sallie May (Helluva Boss)

Guess who just realised that (other than Dipper technically) I haven’t put a single canon trans character on this list. Headcanons are better, I don’t make the rules, but Sallie May is amazing. No matter how critical you are of Helluva Boss, one thing it unapologetically does well is queer representation. The amount of characters that the audience can relate to makes it almost addicting to watch as you get to watch these characters live their best lives. Well, their lives are kinda fucked but you get what I mean, they just get to live as queer people, most of the time.

And Sallie May is proof that trans people will eat up absolutely anything, even if it’s a whole thirty seconds of screen time of a trans character. Being fair to her, Sallie May eats up every moment she gets on screen, her dialogue can be equivocated to just a middle child acting like a middle child and I think it is partly that, I feel like we have a lot more to learn about Sallie May and in turn her sister Millie. At least I hope we do, Millie’s writing needs to improve, their family dynamics can be so interesting because every other one of their siblings is a boy, their parents can be judgemental, I feel like even if Sallie May can be a bit taunting to her, those two are probably really close, especially since Millie is one of the people Sallie May would have to go to for girl advice.

To summarise, since I went off on a bit of a tangent, Helluva Boss brings out the worst in me, give Sallie May and Millie more screen time, they’re the best, we love healthy sibling dynamics.

Double Trouble (She-Ra)

Jesus, they’re hot. Anyway, the first non binary entry on this list, the fabulous Double Trouble who stole the entire show from the moment they were introduced. Throughout the entirety of the last season, I can remember just waiting for the point that they’d show up again and nearly screaming when they did.

Double Trouble was one of the most charming members of the She-Ra cast and became effortlessly iconic, conning every single character, playing both sides of a war so that they’d come out on top, and they did win in the end. DT basically had zero consequences and even got to flirt with Sea Hawk when they were reintroduced so they got a win really. Double Trouble was mean, condescending and a liar and I love them so, so much, them being a shapeshifter is just absolutely perfect and fits their character so well. It was nice to see Non-binary rep in a cartoon and have it not immediately be cancelled, looking at Disney and thank God it wasn’t because She-Ra really wouldn’t be the same without this manipulated, child of a bitch

Crowley (Good Omens)

You know the gender’s hitting when you don’t even know what the fuck the gender is. Crowley is a delight of the character from the moment they’re introduced to the end of the show, which nearly broke my heart since I watched it just recently, if anybody would like to send me tissues, that would be greatly appreciated.

From my vast research of one google search, I’ve concluded that they’re gender is up to viewer interpretation which is actually what mine is too so I can respect that. This literal demon stole the show whenever they were on screen, whether it was David Tenant’s acting, the moments we saw softer sides of him, her pinning over Aziriphale of them just being an actual demon, Crowley is a wonderful piece of representation and I hate that because it makes me sad, let them get together, please.

KFC

Not to be confused with that one place that makes pretty good chicken, I’m talking about the protagonists of two of the best RPGs ever made, Undertale and Deltarune.

For those unaware, KFC is the trio name of Frisk, Undertale’s protagonist, Chara, Undertale’s narrator and Kris, Deltarune’s narrator. Despite them being the main characters, they’re not characterised too strongly as you are in control of them for most of the game, minus Chara who specifically says you aren’t in control of them. Due to it being canon to the games that you are playing as these characters, the Internet started a rumour that they are whatever gender you want them to be, which was just never true. Undertale is packed with trans representation, and these three are no exception. It’s the whole reason I added them to the list actually, just to get the message across if anyone was unsure; they’re all Nonbinary.

Frisk and Kris, despite only having glimmers of their true characters in the game, are still very lovable and intriguing with their actions. Even just the idea of these two being controlled, which is more of a heavy theme in Deltarune, is enough to make you interested in their characters, especially when Kris starts fighting back against you. This entire section is just gonna be a couple paragraphs of me fighting back the urge to yap about Undertale lore so you’ll have to forgive me. Chara, being the only one not under your control, has a much stronger character through the lines of dialogue from them or said about them, the latter usually being more interesting as it gives you insight to their tragic life.

Undertale is one of my favourite and given the amount of rep it’s given us, I had to pay homage to its own main characters on this list. Even though I’m hungry cause now I’m thinking about KFC.

Jake Peralta (Brooklyn Nine Nine)

I think it’s been a year since I finished tumblr’s favourite sitcom and while Jake was lovable, he didn’t stand out to me too much. Still, this guy suffered from that overconfidence but riddled with insecurity personality which lead to him being inevitably headcanonned (it’s a word I decided) as trans masculine. I don’t know what the correlation is between those kinds of characters and the transmasc headcanon, maybe it’s the desire to present as being that confident, maybe it’s being that confident but still held back by struggles about your gender identity but that’s neither here nor there.

What is here and is there is that this show was amazing for trans people, even if only in small ways and Jake was no exception to that. He was funny and watching him grow through those eight seasons gives you one of the most satisfying and heart throbbing conclusions to a TV show, largely due to his presence as the main character. Even though it’s not canon that he was trans masculine, the Headcanon is so popular that I had to pay homage to him and add him to the list.

Jack Kennedy (DSAF)

Is this fandom so dead and so unpopular that I couldn’t find a good gif? Yes. Am I gonna talk about it anyway because I love these games and I want an excuse and this is my day? Yes.

Anyway, Jack Kennedy was the main protagonist of the Day Shift at Freddy’s games and if you don’t know what those are, there’s a 50% chance you had an alright childhood. DSaF is obviously a fan game of the more well known horror franchise Five Nights at Freddy’s and I think they are some of the best fa games ever made. They’re hilarious, they’re so low budget it’s insane, it can give you the hardest tonal whiplash of not taking itself seriously to one of the hardest stories you’ve ever went through seamlessly and I don’t even get a fuck. The story told by these games is done so well and evokes so many emotions but one important thing it’s done is actually be really great for queer rep.

Despite it being played for more of a joke in the earlier games, the two characters Jack and Dave Millie clearly have romantic chemistry and that was so important back when the games released since they became so mainstream due to being attached to a popular franchise. Many fans headcanon Jack Kennedy as being non binary, which is a label that I think really works for them, mainly because it fits for the protagonists of roleplay games to be non binary. I can’t explain why, it just makes presenting the character to the audience so much easier and makes them a lot easier to play without having to worry too much about the gender of the character.

Anyway, Jack’s a self described asshole with a noble goal, and playing as them really gives you a feel of their character and makes you understand why this little known indie franchise snuck into so many people’s hearts.

Bridget (Guilty Gear Rising)

You know I had to end off the list with one of the most iconic, canon, transfem characters out of there. Pretty much every single transfem has heard of Brisket and not a single one has played Guilty Gear Rising, I had to look up the name of this game just before this to make sure I got the right one.

Bridget has recently become a meme on the Internet, with every other transfem having her in her pfp, Bridget became a staple in the community. As stated, I can’t talk too much about her character but seeing the Internet come together to just appreciate this one transfem character, despite their being obvious hate and pushback and claiming her being canon transfem was a ‘mistranslation’ (to my knowledge) was actually really heart warming.

I didn’t really get trans day of visibility too much, I was happy for it, thought it was cool we got a day but it didn’t really help us all that much. But the more I thought about Bridget is the more that I saw just how good it can feel when people come together. It doesn’t have to be a movement or a call to action to save trans people from another bill trying to wipe them out, which is just depressing to listen to, it can just be as simple as joking about this character that barely any of us know. That level of community made me understand what this day was actually about; finding common ground and letting at least one other person know that they’re not alone, that there’s so many people just like you out there, that went through the exact same thing as you did at some point. And to let you know, those people turned out fine, so you’ll be okay too.

Happy trans day of viability everyone, even if this list only reaches one person to let them know they’re not alone, I’ll be happy with that.

Anyway, ignore the emotional stuff there, here’s my honourable mention of

EVERY SINGLE SPIDERMAN, SPIDERWOMAN, SPIDERPERSON, TO EVER EXIST, THEY’RE ALL TRANS, YOU CAN’T CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE

#transgender #transmasc #transfem #trans ftm #trans mtf #trans day of visibility #trans representation #transgender rep #the owl house #amphibia #hunter noceda #gravity falls #dipper pines #helluva boss #sallie may #she ra #double trouble #undertale #undertale frisk #undertale chara #deltarune #Deltarune kris #dsaf #dsaf jack #brooklyn nine nine #b99 #jake peralta #crowley #good omens #Bridget

[familyvideostevie]

hey.

okay. hello! i'm back. :)

maybe you noticed, maybe not, but i have been away for a while.

i wish i could say i've been out living my life, so caught up in happiness and joy and loving each day that i've just not had time for tumblr. but....that is not true. i have been having a tough time! being away has been good, as i've had time to do other things that i like and to put energy into my own well-being, but it hasn't been the best time, I'll tell you that.

i peeked on the dash every now and then to keep my queue full and reblogged soothing things to my main blog and tried my best not to feel guilty about it all (i was also booping on April 1 lol). i just...I really needed a break. i've really enjoyed being here the last six or so months as i've changed my blog and entered the pedro/tlou space but i've also felt so, so alone.

and i know that it doesn't really matter!! like, we should all take breaks and go outside and all that stuff. and I know plenty of people are not very active, but this blog has been such a vital part of my life and happiness since I started it almost two years ago, so any lapse in activity feels like a loss. I've met lifelong friends and flexed my writing muscles and learned a hell of a lot. the fact that I have started to feel isolated and alone on here is a sort of personal betrayal, and there is no one to blame but myself.

So, I’m pulling back.

it means a few things — i don’t know how much writing I’ll be doing from now on. For Joel, especially — it’s been wonderful to meet folks in that community but it has also been really detrimental to my passion for both the game and writing. I’d like to return to some other characters on my masterlist, but we’ll see. I’ve got endless personal projects away from tumblr that I want to pour love and time into (my non-reader fics, my newsletter, a romance novel, a sci-fi novel, poetry, etc). I need to fall in love with my own work again.

it's a me problem, I want to stress that. i'm working on it! irl stuff has been kicking my ass. I've had a really, really hard winter and my mental health has suffered probably more than ever before. i let things I love -- like this blog -- fester and become negative and no longer being me joy. writing became stressful and difficult and I was focused on notes and interaction and looking around me and seeing success and then looking at myself and only seeing lack.

but that's why I took a break! i am getting help and support irl, i am putting in the time and effort to feel better about being alive and to be a better friend and person all around. And I want to tell you all about it because I am so grateful for your time and attention and support, even if we’re just strangers on the internet. i know this probably seems silly -- who cares about a fanfic blog? well, i care! i care a lot! it matters to me and therefore it matters!

anyway. on to the important stuff. here I am! and here's what's going to happen on this blog:

I am working on replying to asks and reblogs and comments I missed. Thank you for being patient with me! I don't know if I'll get to them all but know I see them and I am honored every single time.

I made a totally separate ao3 account with this blog url. I'm working on uploading everything I've posted here onto there and hopefully will continue to crosspost. It is going to take a long, long time, so please be patient! (you can follow my other ao3 here for my non x-reader fanfic).

I posted this fic! Jackson!Joel pulled me back into his world. It’s the first thing I’ve written in ages, so let me know what you think. as of now it's the last planned fic for that series, but who knows!

I hit a milestone while i was away that I am absolutely blown away by. I'm planning a celebration around it sometime this spring (hopefully) and I’d love to see you participate :)

lastly, thank you so much to my friends for letting me complain, whine, winge, etc. I am so sorry for missing all of your work, your celebrations, your bright energies, and all the rest. i am so sorry if it seemed like i was ignoring you. you are my guiding lights, my silver linings, my touchstones. you make me want to be here. i will try to make it up to you!

I want to be online less but make sure I’m connecting more in the moments that i am here. I want to pressure myself to write less and not feel bad that I’m not engaged all the time. I want this blog to once again feel like a place that nourishes me and not sucks me dry. i want to stop feeling like shit about all of it!!!!

so. come hang out in my inbox, my dms, let me know what you've been up to. I am really sorry for missing so much. thank you for sticking around. <3

#personal #this is very long but please read it maybe? #emma rambles #I will reblog it a few times probably

[klausysworld]

this is gonna be a Klaus Mikaelson smut story, i’ve written a fee on wattpad over the years and i’ve read loads on tumblr so i figured couldn’t hurt to write one here.

for warnings i think i’d say

biting (cuz like hybrid so kinda expected)

possessive(marks her + uses possessive terms “mine” “my”)

but all round this is more of a soft!klaus smut

hope it’s alright and id love for some suggestions or whatever u guys think/like/dislike

his lovely girl ;)

i was in the my room finishing my artist research homework for school at my desk when a wave of warmth surrounded me. Two arms caged me and a nose brushed along the side of my head

"you know i could tell you everything you need to know, right love? I'm much better than reading things off of a silly screen hm? plus you get to listen to my voice for hours" klaus's accented voice spoke cockily into my ear sending shivers, that i tried and failed to hide, down my back.

"i think it's best i stick to the sites assigned to learn from" i whispered

"but im much more accurate" he murmured back planting soft kisses behind my ear lightly licking my lobe

"klaus-"

"i thought i said you could call me nik? you're far too special my lovely" heat rose rapidly to my cheeks and my eyes remained stuck to the table. Soft lips pressed into my neck as his hands planted on-top of mine entwining our fingers and playing with them gently

"it's wrong to think of you like that" i merely uttered to myself, breathing out deeply through my nose when i realised he could hear me

"like what hm? what do you think of sweetheart?" his grip tightened then relaxed on my hands and i could feel his body closer pressed against the back of my chair. my mouth gaped slightly as i searched for any words to form

"when do you think of me? morning? or... night? tell me sweet girl what do you think of?" his tongue trailed my neck and light sucking could be felt sending shocks through my blood and a soft whimper escaped muffled as i pressed my teeth into my lower lip

"cmon love you must give me something" i was surely a deep pink if not red by now and my breathing had accelerated

"night" my voice was weak, nervous

his hands held onto mine as he moved them to my lap where he left mine resting before letting go and bringing one of his to the other side of my neck

"do you ever... help satisfy these nighttime thoughts my lovely?" i could hear my heart in my ears as embarrassment crashed over me

"don't get self-conscious on me now lovely. i can assure you that i have the same thoughts and i certainly aid such feelings in ways i seem fit" he turned my head and pecked my lips faintly

my body was grasping at the tingling sensation i barely got to experience

"more" i huffed quietly and he hummed knowingly as he pressed his full ruby lips against my own moving them lovingly as though expressing how much he cared in this action.

his fingers brushed through my hair and his body moved round my chair so he was at my side and he bend down onto his knees tenderly pushing my head to his as he deepened the kiss, our tongues danced and the traces of mint, rich chocolate and coffee threaded together allowing me to savour his taste and bring my hands up to cup them against his face, my thumbs brushing over his stubble.

we both pulled away due to lack of air, i panted lightly as he pressed his forehead to mine

"i want to see" he stated in a hushed tone

my brows pulled together in confusion

"see what?"

"how you satisfy yourself"

i gulped and my face was warm

"i um i don't think i want to…" i could barely say anything and i began to panic

"sh sh okay, can i show you what i think you do instead hm? only if you're comfortable yes?" i sighed in relief

"that sounds better... thank you"

he smiled in return and kissed me quickly but firmly before moving his hands under my thighs and and lifting me up effortlessly. My body was brought to his and my legs automatically wrapped round his hips pressing us against each-other as he carried me over to my bed.

i was placed onto the mattress on my back carefully and i brought my arms up to rest around his neck

"tell me to stop if it's too much okay my love?" his hands worked my shirt and bra off of my upper body and my skirt was lifted above my hips.

his hands cupped my breasts gently and the pads of his thumbs skimmed my nipples. his hips slowly grinded against mine, brushing over my covered clit each time causing ushered moans and whimpers to fall from my mouth. his head dipped and his tongue stroked my nipples enough to peak them. heat flooded me at the feel of his body on mine, his hands caressing me, his mouth loving me.

his index and thumbs began toying with my peaked buds and his head came back towards mine

"i bet you feel your breasts like this don't you? love to imagine how it would feel if it were me?how do you feel sweetheart? do you feel tingly my sweet, sweet girl"

a relatively loud whine escaped me and my head nodded

"can never get myself to feel good enough, need more nik"

klaus sucked softly along my throat, his hands moved and slowly pulled my underwear off my legs and then my skirt leaving me completely bare yet he had not lost a single item of clothing

the overwhelming vulnerability was shining through and i knew he could see it.

it was comforting when he pulled his own shirt and trousers off so he was too almost nude. a kiss to was stomach was awarded and two hands parted my thighs gently.

my breathing was rapid and i clamped my legs closed instantly

"i would never hurt you, especially like this, never like this. you say if you don't like something okay? it'll be alright love, breath" i caught my breath and relaxed my body, my eyes closed shut and my legs fell apart for him. the cool air hitting my glistening core and causing a whine to slip past me

two of his fingertips delicately traced my wetness, my hands gripping the sheets in anticipation and my eyes welded shut

"so bloody lovely, just perfect" he told me while beginning to circle my little clit to stimulate it

"gosh she's sensitive isn't she sweetheart?" he whispered before planting an open mouthed kiss to my lower lips

my gasp sounded through the room and the new feeling

"kl..klaus you don't have t-    oh, oh god nik" without realising i found myself gripping his soft golden locks and pulling his heavenly mouth closer as my hips moved at their own accord as he made out with my most precious area.

moans tumble out of me relentlessly, my back arched and my legs now over his shoulders bringing him somehow closer

a long, ring clad finger brushed my entrance for a few seconds before pushing inside me and starting up a pace to slide in and out of

"christ i can feel you nice and tight around just one finger love, gonna stretch you so good i promise" he muttered and looked down at my swollen clit

"all nice and puffy for me hm? want me to touch her again love?" my nails scratched into his scalp and i forced word's through my sounds of pleasure

"need you to,... please more"

"of course little one, of course" his tongue flicked and played with my extremely sensitive ball of nerves, he slowly added another finger inside me

they gently curled inside me testing my reactions

"more! i need more" my moans were demanding and desperate

"tell me you touch yourself like this hm? do you put your tiny little fingers inside yourself wishing i would fill you up my love?" my walls fluttered around him tightly, a rising overpowering wave of ecstasy waiting for me to give in

"i do nik, i do"

"what do you do?" his thumb rubbed mercilessly at my clit and his fingers became three while moving at an inhuman pace

"t..touch myself" i gasped trying to fight off the sensation built up "touch inside myself an..and wish its you" he groaned resting his head on my stomach unknowingly adding to the pressure and an embarrassingly loud moan sounded through the room

"what would you like lovely?" he asked kissing my lower stomach suggestively

"wan..want your mouth"

"want my mouth? you have my mouth" i could barely get any words formed, my head spinning in pleasure

"on clit need on me now please" just like magic he was instantly replacing his thumb sucking harshly and flicking mercilessly

i clamped around his fingers and my mouth fell agape, eyebrows furrowed together as my high finally washed over me

once completely finished i felt him slowly remove his fingers, knowing how sensitive i am. his tongue lapped at my thighs cleaning me until it was as though it had never happened

"such a good girl aren't you love?" he moved up towards me kissing my forehead and pulling me onto his lap so i was facing him

"yes nik" i mumbled looking up at him through my lashes seeing his eyes go impossibly dark

"such an innocent little thing aren't you? god the things i want to do to your wet little cunt" i mewled in response resting my head onto his chest

"are you too tired love?" he whispered brushing through my hair with his hands.

"wanna have you inside please" i mumbled feeling his hard, covered cock twitch against my bare heat

"alright my love," he lifted my body up to allow himself to free his lower self, it stood tall and proud, thick and hard. beads of cum already gathered at his tip and my eyes watched in curiosity of the taste

"he's all yours love" he whispered still petting my hair

i moved back off of him and in between his legs. my face felt hot and my core ached to have him within me. i slowly and gently wrapped my hand around the middle of his cock, my fingers didn't quite meet around his thickness as i rubbed him steadily. i danced my tongue up one side feeling the veins pressing against me. a low moan left his gorgeous lips and his other hand fell to his side, holding onto the sheets beneath him

"good girl just a little more now okay? can you put the tip in your mouth for me?" i did as i was told and relaxed my lips around his lower head.

"suck a little love, play with your tongue okay" my hand moved to hold his that was clenched around the sheet as i lightly sucked his tip, the little juices giving me a taste of what was to continue. i flicked my tongue over and around him enjoying the moans he would express in gratitude.

"that's it, that's it. can..can you take some more into your mouth sweetheart?" my eyes locked onto his making him groan and squeeze my hand. my gaze still on his, i pushed my head down his length, almost halfway before pulling back up, again two thirds down and back up, his hand in my hair was tangled, gripping aimlessly while his other squeezed mine intime with his moans of pleasure

"christ your such a good girl, such a sweet girl, my lovely girl." in response i forced my head all the way down ignoring how my throat tried to forced him back out as i gagged around him. i attempted to relax my throat and i swallowed around him, this earned a whimper and a light push to my head. i rose back to his tip before creating a rhythm to take him all and toy with his tip, his hand helped guide me and the sinful sounds he released only spurred me on

"love love love, im gonna finish down your throat if you don't let go" i caught his eye again and swallowed around him once,twice,three times before he came in my mouth moaning my name as he did so, our fingers were interlocked and his eyes fell closed. his hips abruptly bucked up a few times riding out his high as i continued to swallow his length.

he carefully lifted my head off of him and checked my face and felt my throat gently with his hand

"anywhere hurt? i won't be mad, let me see if you bruised your throat love" he spoke undeniably soft while smoothing over my face and dotting kisses on my cheeks. i opened my mouth for him and he peaked inside

"love... god you must hurt love im so sorry, i shouldn't have made you do that im sorry" he whispered over and over kissing my lips apologetically and holding me in his strong arms

"you didn't make me nik, i wanted to...i promise... i liked it and it doesn't hurt that much" i rubbed his back soothingly as he buried his head in the crook of my neck

"i knew you'd never done this before, i told you what to do and got you to keep going, i knew it would be too much but i couldn't help myself" he pulled me back into his lap again and held onto me tenderly

"klaus... i kept going because i wanted to and because i liked how it made you feel and me feel... made me tingly nik" my voice lowered towards the end and i grabbed ahold of one of his hands

i guided it down to my upper thighs and let the finger tips dip into the sweet nectar gathered in a pool between them. i could feel his breathing thicken against my skin as i moved myself against his hand

"i need you nik... please don't be sad" he kissed my neck before his head rose to look down at me. his hand tugged up making me let go of his wrist watching as he placed his covered fingers into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as he sighed through his nose

"i love you y/n, once we do this i will be yours do you understand?" his eyes remained closed and he rested his head against mine

"and i will be yours?" i whisper

"always... is that.. something you might like?" i pressed my lips to his and pulled him closer than possible

"would love to be yours" i mumbled against him.

"im gonna be gentle okay? promise my love" i nodded and calmed myself as i felt his once again hardened cock press against my core. he rubbed it along my wetness a few times purposely knocking my most sensitive part before pushing his way inside me. i was slowly stretched around his unbelievable size and lowered onto him completely. the feeling was foreign and slightly uncomfortable but overall really full, complete.

his hands ran over my backside and across my thighs

"oh you're doing so well my lovely, so well" i wrapped my arms around his neck and hid my face in his shoulder as i shifted a little, testing how the movement felt. when a small spark went off inside me i grinded my hips further. i gasped at the sensation and dug my nails into klaus's back as i moaned out

"good god you feel tight, best little pussy i'll ever have" his hand pet my back, rubbing up and down calmingly.

"need more please! deeper need you deeper!" i cried out and threw my head back as his hips began thrusting up into me hitting places inside me i had no clue existed. pleasure coursed through me and loud moans echoed against the walls of my room along with the heavy pants and niks mewls.

"feel so full klaus... feels so good"

one arm wrapped securely under my arms while the other went into my thighs lifting me, his hips rocked into me at a steady pace, the pure bliss running through me making me shake in ecstasy and yell his name.

"gonna cum for me love? can you squeeze me nice and tight sweet girl?" i nodded rapidly and my body clenched around his, my moans never quit as i released around him. his hips didn't falter once as he continued to hump into me. i whimperer at the sensitivity i felt when his fingers gathered the warmth between us and rubbed at my clit

"my sensitive little pearl hm?" he whispered into my ear sucking on my earlobe and then kissing along my neck.

my third orgasm of the night approached far too quickly, overwhelming me

"cant nik, t..too much" i whined gripping onto his hair and clamping my velvety walls around him

"fuck i know love, it's gonna feel so good in a minute yea? just a minute..." he sighed breathing in our mixed scents. i felt him twitching inside me and his movements became more rapid and harsher, his eyes bleeding into gold and his grip on me slightly bruising

"doin so good gonna fill you up so good, all mine now love.. mine" i moaned out and screamed almost silently as i felt him release inside me, i followed his orgasm quickly panting heavily.

i barely noticed his canines pierce into my neck and release his venom. i cried in half pleasure/half pain as i tried to pry his teeth away

"klaus stop it hurts" i mumbled pushing at his chest. he left my neck and kissed me deeply

"im sorry it stings love, had to mark you up yea? make sure you're mine okay... look so fucking perfect with my mark" i moved my hand to feel the mark, tears stung my eyes at the overwhelming feeling of safety it offered me

"y/n? love? hey no tears... it wasn't meant to hurt that much just a pinch i swear, im sorry love i'll fix it okay?" his hands cupped my face and neck as he brought his head back down to suck the venom out before it settled

"no! i want it, i want it" he paused and kisses it instead before carefully removing himself from inside me and wiping us both down with a warm cloth

"you did so well today my love, so well. such a good little girl aren't you? gonna give you some of my blood to take away any aches or bruises okay?" his bleeding hand was brought up to mine to drink from and i did so willingly.

"love you too nik... always n forever" he smiled brightly and  laid us down on top each-other, he clung to me tightly but gently, keeping me safe and at ease. i loved him. i love him. i will always love him.

please please please let me know what u think

#klaus mikaelson x yn #klaus mikealson smut #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus michaelson #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikealson fanfiction #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus m #klaus #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus x reader #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaelson x oc #klaus mikaelson x reader #niklaus imagines #niklaus x oc #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikealson imagine #rebekah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #finn mikaelson #hope mikaelson #freya mikaelson #henrik mikaelson #esther mikaelson #mikael mikaelson #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #mystic falls

[peach-and-bugs]

Hi, I hope you are well, I fell in love with Nat's one-shot, so I was encouraged to ask for a request, well there are two that come to my head with different characters.

"Wow, you really never got out of your angsty teenage stage, did you?" with Teen Shauna (sorry it's just that you see those eyes and they bring back a lot of melancholy).

"Please tell me you didn't hold on to that all these years" with Lottie (1996) and Lottie (2021). I think with this one you can play with flashbacks of seeing what happened in the desert and their relationship in that timeline in 1996 as a reunion in 2021 somewhat angsty.

Sorry the request is so long, although I would like to add that I can imagine both requests with f reader, anyway thank you very much for everything, take your time and take care of yourself. ❤️

💚Flower stems for heartstrings - Lottie Matthews (1996 & 2021) x fem!Reader💚

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Summary: y/n finds evidence of her teenage best friend (and secret crush) being alive after all, and a possible way of finding her thanks to modern internet and goes on a personal quest to find her and the truth, all while reminiscing about their teen years...

Warnings: Internalized homophobia, fem reader that dresses both "masc" and "fem", underage drinking and smoking weed, extremely angst but with a good ending

Word Count: 8,758

A/N: woohoo! We've surpassed word count on my longest oneshot with this fic, the record previously being 6,990. And ngl, this might be one of my favorites to date! Lottie is an extra special gal who deserves an extra long one-shot, so of course I'm going to give her extra attention. What can I say, I'm not immune to favoritism. This one was actually so fun! I loved getting to write about excited, young (and medicated, let's be fr) Lottie bc I think we forget just how much the wilderness took a toll on her. She was so lively before, it makes me so sad. But, I hope I was able to give her a little bit of that liveliness back in this fic! I think in the request "desert" was supposed to be wilderness, but I wanted to have the reader be left behind, which adds a whole different kind of angst to the situation. As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!💚

Lottie Matthews Tag List:

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💚-

You’d only ever felt the way you did now only twice before in your life. Once when word got around that flight 2525 had mysteriously gone down in flames with no trace, and once again when you learned she’s been shipped off to god knows where for some kind of treatment. You hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to her then and she was gone. 

It was a sickly green feeling that had you kneeling over with weak knees and a stone throat. Lottie Matthews, the girl you’d had your heart set on for all of these years, wasn’t gone. She wasn’t locked away or dead like gossip has always said. She was alive and well and looked like she was thriving. And how did you find this out? Through Instagram, of course. That might have been the worst part of all of this. 

One minute you’re mindlessly scrolling through your feed when an ad for a farmers market in some part of upstate New York, rather than New Jersey where you resided. But the ad featured a booth selling honey, and low and behold, there she was. Well, the photo didn’t give a clear picture of her face, but you refused to deny that it was her, despite how it made you sick. How could you forget that smile of hers after all? 

You had to put your phone away after that, but it didn’t help you sleep. A few hours into staring up at the ceiling, restless with gnawing curiosity, you decided sleep wouldn’t come till you found an answer. Rather spontaneously you packed a bag and got into your car. Was this the smartest thing to do? Hell no, but you had the weekend off for work anyways, and nothing stopped you from going, so you drove through the nightstand into the morning and drove by coffee, a podcast, and the straining urge that you needed to know what was going on.

-💚-

At some point in the night, you found your mind wandering as your eyes trained on the empty highway before you, highlighted by your headlights. You reminisce a time long before, even more than 25 years ago. Back when you had been a freshman in high school during your lunch period. You moved to Wiskayok, New Jersey late in the year, giving you an even later start to your first year of high school. You’d relatively been left alone and had decided you'd be alright with that. Not everyone can have friends right? So, alone you sat outside on the school's field, picking at the grass underfoot having already finished your lunch. 

Some students around you sat on the track or the stadium's bleachers with their friends, enjoying company and comradery or whatever and you didn’t like to admit how it made you jealous. But what was there for you to do to change it? You refused to look desperate and walk up to random groups of people who would probably talk about how lame you are behind your back-

“Hey, you alright?” the sudden voice in your direction yanked you out of your self-deprecating thoughts. Looking up you had to squint your eyes to try and make out who was talking to you as the sun shone in your eyes till they tilted their head, blocking it. After some adjustment from the sunspots in your eyes, you were greeted with a shy yet warm smile. 

“Um, yeah, I’m fine,” you uttered awkwardly, swallowing the frog in your throat that had your voice croaking. The girl chuckled and tottered down to the ground to sit beside you in the grass. She dressed well, was one of the first things you noticed. Her pink skirt and tall white socks were very countering to your grass-stained jeans, scuffed hightops, and t-shirt. 

“You sure, because you’re all by yourself,” she said rather matter of factly. 

“Well, maybe I like being alone. Think of that,” she arched her brow curiously. “And as far as I know you’re alone too,” she chuckled again with a little huff. 

“Tuche,” was all she replied, but she had a stupidly shiny grin on her face. Next, she reached out her hand to shake. “I’m Charlotte, by the way. But most people call me Lottie,” you hesitated for a standing moment, only staring at her hand as you kept yours loosely wrapped around your knees till you gave in, shaking her hand in greeting. 

“I’m y/n,” 

“Well y/n, tell me about yourself,” she spent the rest of that lunch period at your side, asking questions about you in exchange for the little tidbits you were willing to give her. It was so strange, looking back now, how a because girl decided you looked lonely you'd be driving to upstate New York on a random Thursday night due to your desperation to find her again. 

Lottie had always been charismatic. She liked people. She looked at them like puzzles made special for her to figure out. Maybe that was her way of avoiding herself, or maybe she just had a natural curiosity for those she didn’t understand. But from that day on, she hadn’t left you alone. She’d excitedly greet you in the halls, and invite you out with her friends and to late-night parties. She was the one who integrated you into the community and helped you find a place. 

But she also became your best friend. However, you struggled to feel like you were hers sometimes. She was so bright and colorful, full of life and boy was she popular. She always had someone with her, unless she found the time for you exclusively, which dwindled more and more as high school progressed. Of course, this is a concern you could talk to her about but you didn’t want to bother. In truth, you feared your feelings were driven by selfishness. You thought you'd never voice it, but oh, how you undoubtedly adored Lottie Matthews. 

You felt her encase you when she was close and her laugh was enough to have you swooning. You thrived in her presence and basked in the littlest bit of attention she may offer you. Her touch was electrifying and when she grabbed your hand when she greeted you you felt what had to be magic. But of course, you could never tell. Sure, you knew you were gay and you were so fortunate that you’re mother said it was ok, but you’d never tell, ever. Even if the ache felt like it was squeezing you, you couldn’t lose Lottie. You didn’t want to scare her away and be a freak. 

Part of you wonders if that’s why you'd lost Lottie after all. You hadn’t been honest with her. No, that wasn’t rational. A secret didn’t take down an airplane. 

-💚-

You didn’t arrive till mid-afternoon, late morning, the sun high above as you made your way towards this market. They had their location posted online, so with a quick search and an input to your mapping app you were all set to go. Moments like that reminded you of how on your road trips with your mother growing up she'd have you read the map in the passenger's seat beside her, your finger tailing over the highways towards the little star sticker added on to be your final destination. Strange how so little time felt like it had passed since then yet a whole life as well.

Venders had been set up for some time now and enjoying the comfortable air as they mingled and shopped. You hooked a tote bag over your shoulder to look less conspicuous (although there inherently isn’t anything conspicuous about a middle-aged queer woman at a farmers market, still. You felt a need to keep a low profile). You wandered for some time, looking for a stall that said something like sunset honey, or maybe it was sunnyside. Something involving both the sun and honey, and it looked like the people working wore a lot of purples. 

Honestly, it was a very nice market in itself. Had you had ulterior motives for attending you would have quite enjoyed it. That is still you grew distracted by a florist’s stand. The owner had lovely premade bouquets that ranged in a variety of colors and sizes, but what caught your eye where the assortment of white and pastel metal buckets housing small assortments of different flowers, meant to be starters for gardening. In particular stood out the small purple flowers known for growing naturally back home, in Wiskayok. You tentatively reached out to stroke the petals. 

You hadn’t formally been invited to the party, but it was one of those words get around kind of things, she no one was actually invited, right? At least, that's what you'd told yourself as you got ready in your room, obsessively messing with your hair in the mirror. It was one of those beer-guzzling bonfire things that the seniors hosted on the outskirts of the woods now and then. This time, however, the justification was the girl's soccer team going to nationals, and after the whole pep rally earlier in the day, it did sound justified. 

You pulled back from the mirror to look back down at your clothes. You'd layered a black plaid dress with thin straps over a white sweater that’s sleeves cut off just below your elbow with tights and docs. You tugged at your coller, attempting not to grimace. Sure, you liked dressing feminine now and then, but when it came to events like this you couldn’t help the anxiety, especially with drunk boys. But still, you wanted to look nice, even if the drinks being served were from a beer keg. It just felt like one of those nights, you figured. You sighed and forced yourself to leave as there was a car horn honking outside, grabbing your backpack along the way as you went. It’d be good to have a quick getaway available to you if need be. 

“Have fun, hun! Make good choices for me, ok?” your mom called to you from the couch, watching one of her late-night shows while sipping tea and crocheting something as you went downstairs. You smiled, walked up beside her at the end of the couch, and kissed her forehead. 

“I will, mama, I promise,” you forced a tiny smile. She hummed her thanks and smiled, opening her eyes to take a look at you.

“Show me this little number you assembled for me,” she said, taking off her eyeglasses and gesturing up and down with her crochet hook as she readjusted in her seat to get a better view. You stretched out an arm, the other firmly holding your backpack to your shoulder, and did a turn around for her. She smiled wide and gave you playful applause. 

“Cute! And do you like it? Everything fits well?” 

“Yes, Mom, I promise,” you sighed, trying to refrain from rolling your eyes. It was a new dress you hadn’t worn yet and you knew she was only doing the classic mom routine but you had to go!

“Alright, you go have fun. And tell your friend Charlotte good luck at nationals!” she called after you as you shut the door front door and locked it. You turned, illuminated by your porchlight, and waved to your ride. Van had the passenger window of Taisa’s car down and she waved back with a confident grin on her face. You could hear Depeche Mode playing on the radio as you approached the car. You opened the door and slid inside with a quick smile. 

“Thanks for the ride, Taissa,” you said, trying not to sound as shy as you felt. She smiled in the rearview mirror, checking her surroundings as she turned down the radio. 

“Yeah, no problem girl,” she said with effortless confidence. You didn’t know Taissa or Van, or much of the school's soccer team all that well, but in your mutual connection to Lottie over the past four years you’d tagged along with them quite often and they’d always been nice to you.

“We couldn’t say no after Lottie was so adamant we were nice,” Van joked quite loudly to Taissa, giving you an up and down with that grin again. You stared for a second, unsure of what she was trying to imply till Taissa smacked the goalie in the arm with the back of her hand, hissing her name to make her shut up as she started driving. The redhead let out an undignified yelp.

“She’s being an asshole. And confusing. Lottie wanted you to come and she knew we’d be the best people to pick you up is all,” you still had a confused look on your face, your shoulders hunched inward. 

“Um ok, thanks?” you said it more like a question. 

“What she means, is that we like you. And we’ll tell you we like you,” Van chimed in again. She wasn’t as helpful to you as she thought she was.

“Right, ok. Is there something else going on that I’m not cluing in on?” Tai and Van shared a knowing look. 

“Ok, so the other day Lot kept going on about how she worries that you don’t feel like we’re all friends, and doesn’t want you to feel like you’re just her other friend that tags along, ya know? So we figured we pick you up and tell you that, because some of the other girls on the team aren't the best at communicating, ya know?”

“Oh. So we're friends?” you sounded far more surprised and eager than you would have wanted to. “And Lottie told you all that? About me, I mean?” Van grinned once more, fully turning around in her seat. 

“Yeah, dude! I think you’re really cool actually!” you began to smile more than before and leaned back, straightening up your posture. 

“And, yes, Lot had all that to say and more,” Tai added on. You were thankful for the dark car hiding any color that might have rushed to your face. 

“She talks about you all the time,” Van blabbed on. Tai gave her a look that told the goalie to keep quiet now. Just as she did you pulled up to another house in the neighborhood that has Lottie sitting on the front porch. She shot up when she saw the car but took a last-minute look at the front door like she was waiting for something. Van maneuvered in her seat to hang out the window. “Hurry up slowpoke or we’ll be late to our party,” Lottie all but yelped and ran to the car after that, toward your side of the car. 

You didn’t have enough time to move out of the way and before you knew it Lottie had flung the door open with an exhilarated grin, laughing as she climbed in over your lap to collapse in the seat beside you in the back. She’d picked to wear all pink, which was just so fitting for her. You noticed in particular that she was wearing one of her shorter skirts that she giggled to you about hiding from her mother. 

“Shut the door and go!” she said through giggles, and once you had the time to process what was happening you did just that, closing the now-opened door to your right, and Taissa was off. Lottie lunged forward in her seat and punched Van in the shoulder, laughing all the while. “God, fuck you! I could have been caught because of that,” she griped as Van dramatically clutched her arm. 

“Ugh, what’s with beating on the goalie tonight? I gotta stay fit for nationals and I’ll be covered in bruises at this rate,” 

“Whatever. You’re always covered in bruises, and not all of them are from soccer,” Lottie implied, her hands gripping Taissa’s headrest in front of her so she could lean forward and talk to the two girls up front. That is till she scooted back to give you her full attention. 

“Well, you’re liking fine as hell tonight hot stuff! Have you been hiding this little number?” Lottie asked, reaching out to touch the material of the dress you were wearing along your leg. You managed to force a laugh and playfully swatter her hand away with shifty eye contact. 

“It’s new. My mom got it for me during our last mall trip. She wanted me to expand my wardrobe or whatever,” you played off causally. Lottie gave you a knowing smile and sighed as she turned to look out the window. 

“I think it looks great, just like you always do,” she murmured rather quietly. You weren't even sure you were supposed to hear her. Not long after Tai parked and you all got out of the car. Van yelled something at the crowd that had already gotten things started and there was a low collection of howling and yelling in response to her. Lottie got out of the car before you but stopped and waited by your door for you to get out with her. She said nothing but had that perky smile on the whole time as she watched you expectantly.

“So, whatcha wanna do?” you asked. She shrugged. 

“I dunno. Maybe get reeeeeally drunk,” she toyed, reaching out to take your hand like it had become second nature. Tai walked up to the two of you from the driver seat of the car, double-checking as she locked it shut and shoved her keys in her jacket pocket. She made a purposefully obvious glance down at your entwined fingers then back up to Lottie.

“Careful Lot, people might talk,” she said with what Lottie took as a comfortable coolness but it sent a shiver down your back that caused you to think about pulling away. 

“Pfft! I don't give a flying fuck! Let them talk!” she announced quite loudly, leaning forward with her free hand on her hip. She turned her gaze back to you and wiggled her brows as she grinned. “Come on. Get a drink with me,” she urged, tugging you away from Taissa. 

“Don’t listen to her. No one is looking, and if they are they don’t care. What’s wrong with holding hands anyway?” Lottie babbled on as she pulled you in line for a beer with her. She was still holding onto your hand quite tight as she jumped into rambling about something related to her French class. Maybe a recent test? You weren't exactly sure. Despite everything she’d said before, it felt like everyone was looking, but not because of you. Because of Lottie. She was the pretty, popular girl while you were just the weirdo she hung around. With that idea in your head, it was pretty hard to not be self-continuous. You were so in your head that you didn’t notice her shoving a beer in your hand. 

“Wha- oh, thanks,” you stuttered. You'd let go of her hand to get your drink, opting to use both hands to hold it. Lottie frowned as she was handed her drink ans thanked the guy passing them out. 

“Hey, you alright? Lost you for a sec,” she murmured. She’d become so gentle all of a sudden. Were you really that fragile? She forced a smile and nodded.

“Yeah, I'm great. Just haven't gotten into the party mood yet, I guess,” 

“Oh, ok. Do you wanna step away, clear your head a bit?” you shook your head no. 

“Nah, I'm good. I’m just gonna grab something from my bag in Tai’s car, ok?” Lottie tilted her head, almost like she was trying to look at you from a new angle. 

“I can go with you,” she offered. God, why did she have to be so attentive and sweet?

“I promise I’ll be fine-” you started only for a distraction to catch your eye. “Hey, Shauna and Jackie are over that way. I’ll meet up with you when I’m done,” you offered, dialing up that chipper tone as high as you could. She finally gave in and nodded, making her way over to her other friends while you crept away to dash toward Tai, wherever she was. You eventually found her after dodging around cars and trees listening to Van argue with a group of boys about something sports-related probably. That honestly wasn’t a huge concern of hers at the moment. 

“Hey, Taissa. can I borrow your keys?” Taissa arched a brow. 

“You’re not trying to use my car to go joyriding or to fuck, right?” 

“What? Oh my god- no. I just wanna get something from my bag. It’s in the car,” 

“Where's Lot?” why is that relevant right now?

“She’s with Jackie and Shauna,” you began messing with the loose hair falling in your face, averting your eyes from her. Tai gave you an up and down before tugging at Van’s jacket. 

“Van, go with y/n to my car, ok?” 

“I was just in the middle-” Van started till Tai arched a brow and she gave in. Tai dropped her keys in the redhead's hand and you were off to the car again. 

“Do you already wanna leave?” Van asked, walking backward in front of you. 

“No, I just want something from my bag,” Van slowed to walk in stride with her hands in her pockets, watching you as you watched everyone who passed. 

“Care to share?” you just looked at her and finally managed a laugh.

“I’ll share when we get there,” upon reaching the car and unlocking it, you grabbed your bag and made your way to a more secluded edge over the party where you’d be left alone, Van trailing close behind till you set your solo cup on the ground, sat down saddle style on an old, knocked-over log to rummage through your bag. You pulled out a baggy you’d been holding onto and a lighter.

“Damn, y/n, I didn’t think you the type,” the goalie said as she dropped down across from you. “Where’d ya get it?” she asked, taking the joint you pulled out to share. 

“My older brother. He lives with my dad while he’s going to school and I visited him over Christmas and he gave me a few that I use quite sparingly. 

“Divorced?” she asked, referring to your parents. You shrugged.

“Kinda, but not really? It’s weird. They still like each other and get along but they aren't exclusive by any means. Dad works in Cali while mom moved here to look after her mom who’s a few houses down from us,” you explained as you fidgeted with the lighter, fixated on the way the flame moved up and down, on and off. Van snatched it out of your hand during an “off” moment to light the joint now placed firmly between her teeth. 

You simply watched her process, lighting the joint and then taking in a long breath before holding and letting it go with a sigh as though she was relieved before passing it to you. She did the same, watching your breath in with your eyes shut only to exhale into the dark, finishing off with a small cough before passing it once again. You could see streetlights from the main road from here, you realized. 

“You’re into Lot, aren’t you?” her voice was low to not attract attention, but she was confident in what she had asked. You paused, staring out at the lights just a short walk away. Normally, an insinuation that you were gay would have you panicked. It could have been the weed, but maybe you'd relaxed and found some sliver of comfort in the redhead, your new companion.

“I think I do,” you whistled through your teeth at your admission. You turned to meet her eyes when she nudged your shoulder with the side of her hand, passing the joint off again. “Think I’m a lost cause?” Van snorted and shook her head.

“Oh, hell no. That girl’s crazy about you,” Van said with a sigh, leaning back on her hands where she was sitting on the log. “Now, I don’t know what type of way she feels. Sexual, romantic, or just friendship. But there's something there. Lot’s banked a lot on you,” you began to smile again, soft and mellow as you took another hit. After that one, you leaned down to take a chug of your beer. You offered to pass again, but Van had turned her attention back to the party, particularly to Taissa who looked like she was getting shit from Shauna. Even from over her, you could tell she was wasted given how she stumbled around. Van groaned and got up from where she was sitting.

“Keep it. I gotta deal with this,” she huffed as she left. You watched her go, eyes trailing after her to meet with Lottie’s, who was staring right at you, arm crossed over her chest and cup in hand. She seemed to hesitate between you and her arguing friends, but when the debate got particularly loud she turned with a furrowed brow. You watched her go and kept watching till Jackie derailed the entire situation, pulling all the girls away likely to yell at them. With that done, you sighed, leaning back to fully lie on the log, the joint between your lips and legs dangling over either side as you shut your eyes. 

“You hiding from me over here?” you opened your eyes. The joint was nearly out as it had just been sitting between your teeth for who knows how long by now. Lottie stood over you, arms still crossed as she held onto her nearly drained drink. you shook your head, sitting up as she sat down beside you on your left, much closer than Van had been. You readjusted, sitting properly with both legs over one side of the log, shoulders hunched. Lottie's arm brushed against yours when she moves. “You didn’t come back,” she simply steed with no malice or accusation in her voice. You shrugged. 

“I was getting overwhelmed I guess,” you murmured. “Didn’t feel like talking,” 

“You seemed chatty with Van” Again, she simply stated fact. You sighed and leaned down to take another drink. Lottie took the joint from your hand. You watched, then reached for the lighter to give it a second wind. She held it between her forefinger and thumb for you and once it ignited once more it found home between her lips. You watched, sipping your beer. She smoked far prettier than Van had.

“Van’s a good listener guess. Doesn’t talk too much,” Lottie snorted out a laugh at that. 

“I don't think anyone has ever said ‘Van Palmer doesn’t talk much’” you chuckled out a soft laugh to match hers. You looked away, out at the lights again. Lottie took another breath in, letting the joint sit between her fingers with her crossed arms. She watched the lights with you, though she might not understand the fixation you seemed to have on them. That is, till she paused, turning fully to watch you. She tilted her head again, unexpectedly brushing her fingers over your temple to guide loose hair obstructing her view out of the way and behind your ear. “Let me kiss you,” she murmured, almost as though she was pleading. You turned back to her. Her hand settled on your cheek, fingertips curiously brushing over the apple of your cheek.

“Don’t kid me,” you whispered, eyes glazing as you darted down to her parted lips. 

“Never,” she shook her head ever so slightly. It made her hair sway. You swallowed hard but shakily nodded. That was enough of a yes for her to move in. She immediately dropped the joint in her hand and the hand tracing your cheek found home on the back of your neck. Her now free hand rested behind your ear, stroking your hair as you latched onto her waist, using your left hand to hold you up on the log. 

She kissed like she knew exactly what she was doing. As though this had all been part of a longstanding plan. She’d envisioned this just as you had, and fuck was it perfect. Her lisp whereas urgent as your own and had it not been a public space you might have let her do anything she wanted to you right then and there. She scrunched her fist into your hair, unintentionally pulling ever so lightly on your scalp and eliciting a sudden moan from your throat which only egged her on further till she had to pull away with you chasing after her. 

You opened your eyes wide, lips still parted as you gasped for breath in and out. And then, of course, you got shy, anxious voices telling you she’d regret this immediately. You began to turn from her but the hand in your hair let go and moved to trace knuckles over your cheek and subsequently turn your eyes back to her. She shook her head, murmuring no over and over, soothing you like a child about to cry. And at that thought, the thought of crying alone, you felt the tears spike in your eyes. She watched your brow crinkle as your lip trembled and she pulled you into her chest, holding you as close as she could. 

The hand on your neck found your back as the hand on your cheek moved to cup the back of your head. You buried into your neck as you cried, and she rested her cheek against your scalp, murmuring over and over how it was all ok. She kissed your hair, rubbed your back, and rocked you from side to side as your hands vigorously clung to her sweater, fearing letting her go, because what if the magic would be over and gone when she was out of your hands? 

But reluctantly you needed to let her go, and eventually, that point came where you emerged from her embrace, the scent of her shampoo and perfume fading from you quickly as you met her puffed, teary gaze. She moved to hold your cheeks in her hands as her breath shook. You held your hands around hers, kissing her palm with a weak smile. Fortunately, that had her let go of a watery laugh. But neither of you spoke yet. You just sat in warm silence till you readjusted to be side by side once more, your head lulled to her shoulder with her cheek at your temple.

“Fuck, what do we even do after that?” you breathed, eyes training down to the long discarded joint and red solo cups with only sips left of beer in them, though yours has spilled at some point, soaking the ground under it. 

“I leave tomorrow,” she murmured back. You dressed your lips together before letting go of another sigh. 

“I know… we should have waited” she chuckled sleepily.

“I don’t think so,” you hummed your why. “I’ll be excited to get back here. Well, more excited than I already was to see you,” you chuckled, though your tongue dripped with wordless sarcasm. 

“Don’t forget about me,” 

“Oh, how could I ever after that?” she teased with another giggle. You smiled, nuzzling your nose into her shoulder. With the change in direction, you got an idea upon seeing a small purple flower growing just beside her shoe.

“I know how,” you started, reaching across her side to pick it, leaving a nice, long stem to tuck behind her ear and in her hair. You sat back to admire your work and smiled. “Purple suits you,” you decided, tucking some of the hair behind her ear for a better look at your work. She chuckled with a sniffle, her fingers gently wrapping around your palm, catching you to kiss your fingertips. 

“Mam, are you alright?” you were dragged out of your daydream like a shockwave and had to take several moments to ground yourself again, taking in a deep breath. You blinked repeatedly, shaking your head before forcing a smile. 

“Yes, I’m so sorry. I was remembering something I needed,” you said with a forced chuckle. The florist smiled, though he seemed a little unsure. You turned back to the flower, petal still gently settled between your fingers. “I’ll take this, while I’m here,” you said as you cleared your throat, gently picking up the small white bucket and giving it to the florist to ring up. 

“Ah, Ruellia caroliniensis. But it’s better known as Carolina Wild Petunia. A good choice. Pick it for any reason? I ask everybody that,” he asked, making meaningless small talk. Your eyes stayed focused on the waving petals of the plant as it was gently jostled around. 

“It just reminded me of someone I knew, I guess,” he smiled thoughtfully and nodded with a soft hum of acknowledgment before he asked you for cash or charge. You picked charge which resulted in you digging through your purse for your card. 

“Oh my god! y/n! A shrill voice called when you weren’t looking and just as you pulled out your debit card. You gave the florist you’re card before turning to look who it might be only to have the Misty Quigley herself approaching you with the wide smile and outstretched arms that you felt you had to reciprocate. She squeezed you quite tight and when she let go her hands remained at your side for a moment as she seemed to look at you in awe.

“Well, what the heck are you doing here?” she asked tilting her head with that smile still plastered across her lips till she gasped “Oh! Are you looking for Nat too?” you furrowed your brow and frowned. 

“What? No, I’m-”

“Uh, mam, you’re purchase?” the florist interrupted. You turned from Misty to grab your new belonging, which he had been so kind and bagged for you as well as outstretching your card back to you. 

“Yes, thank you so much! I truly appreciate it!” you said as chipperly as you could before ushering Misty out of the man’s stall and towards a clearing. “What, what are you talking about with Natalie?”

“She got kidnapped!” the blond exclaimed, adjusting her glasses. “She was taken from the motel she was staying in back home and we’re here to find her,” she blabbered on. 

“Hold on, when did Nat get out of rehab and who is we?”

“I dunno, a few weeks ago I think? So much had been going on and it's been hard to keep track and ‘we’ is me and Walter,” you were still confused about the situation and about to ask who Walter was when the man himself showed up. He’d be trailing behind Misty for some time, just casually in the background. He was so average you hadn’t even noticed him. The man waved and offered a smile. You tentatively returned the wave but still seemed confused. 

“I’m not here for Natalie. I didn’t hear about that at all. No, I’m looking for Lottie,” you said rather bluntly. Misty frowned and it was now her turn to be confused. 

“Lottie? But she’s been in Switzerland for years-” 

“Well I thought that too will I saw this,” you whispered, hissing through your teeth as you frantically pulled out your phone and the screenshot you’d taken of the farmers market Instagram post, zooming in on Lottie and shoving the device into her hands.

“No, that can’t be her,” 

“It is. I just- it’s not a great angle but I know it’s her,” you insisted. Misty began to scan the photo curiously, zooming back out when she let out a dramatic gasp and began excitedly smacking at your arm. 

“Purple people!” you yelled. “Purple people!” she repeated it to Walter this time, which summoned him to rush over and huddle around your phone.

“The purple people took Natalie!” she explained with far too much excitement for your liking. 

“Could they have taken Lottie,” Misty shrugged. 

“I dunno, maybe. But only one way to find out!” She shoved your phone back in your hand and began aggressively powerwalking away with Walter tight on her heels. You hesitated momentarily before shutting your phone off and shoving it into your purse, hustling after them. 

“Wait! Do you know where to go?”

“Yes! Of course! We found out from the other stalls,” she called back. “Get in your car and follow us!” she sounded far too excited for this whole ordeal, but what other options did you have to find Lottie? You ran back to your car, got in, and started with heavy breath ready to take the next step on this crazy adventure you found yourself on. 

-💚-

After quite a bit of driving, they pulled off into a bed and breakfast parking lot and parked. You parked beside them and got out with a frustrated expression. 

“We're not going tonight.” Misty rolled her eyes and she pulled her suitcase out of the trunk of what you assumed was Walter’s car. 

“Someone,” she was heavily implying someone to be Walter, especially with the annoyed, flat-mouthed looks he gave him “wanted to wait till morning because he thinks the cult will expect us at night,” you gave her a look that asked “really” and Misty threw up a hand, shaking her head as she grabbed onto her luggage. 

“I know! Trust me, I know, but captain’s orders,” she huffed as she followed Walter into the B&B. You paused, letting out an exasperated sigh before going to grab your duffle back and your plant. You hear Misty muttering about not using her real name as she and Walter get a room. 

“And it's just for one room, right?” the concierge asked. There was an irritatingly comedic back and forth of yes, and no, then both of them settled on no, two rooms would be fine. 

“And, um, you can put mine under the name Lady Mallowan,” Misty gave herself a name straight out of Clue or a shitty romance novel and you couldn’t help rolling your eyes. 

“Seventeen and eighteen. Up the stairs to the right,” then went back and forth with thank yous as they clumsily took their keys, then started deliberating about luggage when Walter offered to take the suitcase off of Misty’s hands. 

“Just one room under y/n l/n is fine, please,” you said simply. You saw Misty and her new boyfriend exchange an appalling look and you had to refrain from laughing. 

“Room nineteen,” 

“That’s great, thanks” You dropped your things upon entry, but gently placed your plant in its bed on the nightstand before collapsing on your bed with a long sigh. Of course, you'd need to get up and change, but for now, lying on your back in a bed that wasn’t yours was all you could feel like doing. That is till you got up from said bed and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a small paper cup of water that you set on the nightstand as you sat on the edge of the bed. You tentatively opened the bag that held your plant and took it out, setting it on the stand to be out and in the fresh air. You gave it a light drink from the cup before you returned to the bathroom for a shower. 

-💚-

You were woken by Misty’s knock at you’re door bright and early at seven-thirty and back on the road by eight after grabbing complimentary breakfast to go. It was a rather long drive to wherever you were going, but you once again found ways to fill the time. That is till Walter took a screeching u-turn that almost caused a car crash on a winding, wet wooded road, but that was a conversation for later. You pulled up beside them and followed as they now stood excitedly outside a green gate that happened to have a matching bee on it. All you carried with you was your tote bag with your plant tucked away inside. Why you felt the need to bring it, you weren't sure, but it felt necessary. 

“The bee is where the purple people are!” Misty insistently explained.

“Ok, do we need to call them ‘the purple people” 

“Well, yes, but that's only till we get a better name for them. But anyway,” without another word of it, Misty ducked under the gate herself and began walking up the road. 

“Ok, we’re getting hit by a car if we do that-” you started but she shook her head. 

“It'll be fine. It looks decently short,”

“Well what about my car?” you urged. 

“Just lock it! Who’s pulling over in the rain to rob an unattended car out here?” you sighed with exasperation. 

“I dunno, maybe people from the cult we’re actively visiting,” you mumbled to yourself. 

“What was that!” 

“Nothing!” you huffed, following after Misty and now Walter, who had started moving shortly after her. She’d been right though. It was a rather short walk with no cars. You found yourself in what looked like a parking lot in the middle of the woods blocking off yet another road with an even larger fence in front of it. Misty and Walter were actively messing with an intercom system that seemed to have worked as they excitedly returned to your side. 

“Alright, so the man on the other end, I think his name was Jack or Jackson- anyway, he’s getting Natalie and she's coming to meet us here,”

“But what about Lottie?” Misty adjusted her glasses and folded her arms with a shrug. 

“I thought we could have Natalie confirm that, because we know she’s in there-”

“You don’t believe me,” you interrupted as she began trailing off.

“Well, we do not want to be making outlandish accusations to strangers, I mean-” she got easily distracted by the sound of someone walking down the pebbled path.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Nataline started with heavy irritation. 

“Oh, thank God you're safe,” Misty would have hugged her by now had the gate not been in her way.

“Safe? What are you talking about?” her attention turned to you and her eyes widened with further confusion “Hi, y/n,” she added tentatively. You awkwardly waved as she gave you a nod. 

“And who the fսck is this?” she gestured to Walter now. 

“Walter,” he simply introduced himself with a wave and a light chuckle before going on. “I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you” Natalie scrunched her nose, clearly not caring all that much about what impression Misty had given him of her upon first meeting. 

 “We're here to rescue you!” Misty eagerly interjected again. “I mean, you-you were kidnapped, right?”

“No. Uh, yes, technically I was, but it's no big deal, okay?” the notion that Natalie’s kidnapping wasnt that big of a deal was bewildering to Misty as seen on her face, but honestly you understood her reaction. 

“Lottie sent some people for me, but I'm not being held against my will,” she muttered, twisting her neck as she spoke. “Well, not anymore” It was now your turn to perk up. 

“I'm sorry, Lottie?”

“I told you she was here,” you hissed through your teeth at Misty, moving closer to the fencing. 

“Wait- as in Lottie? Lottie, who was committed to a mental institution in Switzerland? That Lottie?”

“Yes, Misty, that's the one,” Natalie turned to you once more “I'm assuming you had your theories or whatever?”

“Oh, I’m not here with them-” you paused. “Ok, originally I was coming here all on my own, but we ran into each other, and well,” from there you gave up.  

“Wait, Natalie, Natalie!” Misty derailed the conversation once again. “​​You're gonna have to elaborate, 

“Look, she runs a place here, and she's helping me reflect or whatever. So, you and your Hardy Boy can go home,” she looked Walter up and down again about Hardy Boy.

“But…”

“I'm doing a fսcking thing here, Misty. I don't need you getting in my way,” she’d lost patience with the blonde’s interruptions and persistence and in all honestly, you felt bad for her given how she shrank back at the raised tone. But she quickly toughened back up, turned on her heels, and marched back in the direction you'd come. 

“She seems nice,” Walter tried to lighten the mood. Natalie sighed with either exhaustion or irritation, watching them go before her eyes drifted to you, still standing in front of her. “You’re not done too?”

“Natalie, I need to see her,” she let out a scoffish chuckle and sighed through her nose. 

“Oh, I’m sure you do,” 

“I’m serious, Natalie,”

“Oh no, I can tell you are, don’t worry. Just- just give me a minute, alright. Let me ask my guy,” she began to turn but waited for you to nod before actually leaving. You stood still, turning to check your surroundings once more just to be as sure as possible. Natalie returned quite quickly with a man behind her. She shrugged, seeming surprised by the verdict herself as the gate’s electric lock began to unlatch letting you in. 

“Uh, my car is still parked with some of my things,” Natalie was already shaking her head. 

“We can have someone come and retrieve it all later,” Natalie’s companion started ad Natalie turned, already heading up the hill for a second time. 

“But you're not gonna need it!” she yelled behind her. Due to her eagerness to leave the scene, you were left walking beside the strange man who let you in. 

“So, I'm assuming you’re Jack or…” you drawled off but he chuckled, appreciating your intention. 

“Jeferson,” he cleared. 

“Right, ok. Nice to meet you,” you nodded, your hands clutching quite tight to the straps of your tote bag. “Look, I don’t mean to sound rude, but I’m only here to see Lottie not join your… well join whatever you're up to,” he laughed again and nodded. 

“Don’t worry. She knows you're here,” a shive rushed down your spine as you realized what was happening. “I’m instructed to take her to you, actually,” 

“Oh. wow, that’s just great. Yeah, great,” you whispered to yourself as you bit your lip, questioning if this was going to be a good idea after all. When you looked up again, taking a deep breath you were met with quite a beautiful scene before you. It was a nice, well-organized camp on a lake with cabins and what you assumed were social areas all around and throughout the woods. You paused for a moment to take it in and wonder, did Lottie make all of this? 

“Charlotte is waiting this way, Ms. l/n,” Jeferson interrupted your wonderings. 

“Mhm, I’m coming,” you had to manually tell your feet to move before you could follow him to the separate cabin that must be Lottie’s. He had already walked up the stairs by the time you approached the porch, taking a moment to appreciate its handiwork before trudging up the creaking wood. Jefferson opened the door but didn’t enter, only gesturing for you to go in. 

“Charlotte will be here as soon as she can step away,” he explained as you cautiously walked in. You nodded, turning around to give him your thanks but he was already shutting the door, leaving you to your own devices. For a moment you stood completely still, watching the wooden door anticipating her walking in at any second, but after a few seconds of stillness, your foot began bouncing with building anxiety squeezing at your chest. 

“Shit,” you hissed, turning to look around your surroundings and find something to help you calm down. You put your bag on the table, but take the time to take the plant out and set it beside your bag. You rubbed your sweating palms on your pants and began to wander around the single room you found yourself in. Her main space was split into a small lounge-ish office space with a kitchen on the other half. 

You assumed the bathroom and her bedroom were down in the back of the cabin and with a craning of your neck you could see in one of the rooms but you decided it best to leave that be. Wandering around the office space you ran your fingertips over the edge of her desk. You peaked over the edge, curiosity winning momentarily before you restrained yourself, instead turning to the art hung on her wall featuring deer and other wilderness things before resigning yourself to the couch facing her desk. 

You flopped down rather unceremoniously but couldn't help sitting stiff, hunched forward with your knee bouncing in anticipation. Your eyes trained on her desk again, which was mostly bare of anything decor-like other than the two small picture frames. You forced yourself to look away till your nerves kicked in again and you were back up and taking the large one into your hands. It featured a classic team photo of the soccer team back in high school, but earlier on during your sophomore year. 

You chuckled lightly scanning over the baby faces your old friends used to have. Having something familiar to look at was relaxing, you decided. Maybe not the most morally correct thing, but this was an exceptional situation. So, you moved on to the small one, thinking none of it till she got a look and your heart dropped again. Pressed pristinely against the glass was an all too familiar flower, nearly identical to the one you'd been carrying for the past day and a half. Only this one had far more wear to it, clearly showing its age. It had faded in color over time, taking on hues of parchment brown rather than the vibrant purples you’d been familiar with. You traced over the shapes of the petals, likely dry and dusty to the touch by now over its safety net of glass. That is till you heard the carbon door abruptly shut.

And oh, she was perfect. She was sickeningly, stunningly perfect but all you could do was freeze where you stood, grip tightening around the small wooden frame in your clasp out of fear you might drop it if you didn’t squeeze tight. And she stood just as stunned at you. Age had encompassed her face all this time, but it was still her face. The one you had ingrained in your mind, so much more detailed than any photograph. You felt your chin begin to quiver.  

“Please tell me you didn't hold on to that all these years" You had to force it out with your breath ad your brow bowed with the strain of keeping it together. And then she laughed. She laughed her laugh, now blossoming with the beautiful thing that is age, just as every other part of her was. She moved toward you as though she was floating. She took her caftan off so smoothly it was like the breeze itself removed it for her. And before anything else, she took the frame from your hands, fingertips brushing together only for a moment. She returned it to its place before shakily turning back to you, tears drizzling from her eyes as she smiled.

“How could I not,” she murmured with a laugh full of exasperated joy as though she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her hands hovered over your arms as though she feared touching you would break the illusion, but with the way your lip trembled and tears rolled from your eyes as you held back a strangled sob she couldn’t refrain herself. It all felt so new and old all at once and oh, how overwhelming she was, her hands cupped at your face, thumbs stroking at your tears as you let it all go, sopping into her. 

Just as she had years before she murmured sweet nothing promising that you were safe and you were here, but not only you. After so much time she needed the reassurance of reality just as much. She pulled you in, just as before and your nose found its rightful place in the curve of her neck as her cheek found your scalp. She held you up and close as your knees began to shake and you had to grip onto her shoulder blades for what felt like dear life. You needed to feel her to truly know that she was here, she was real and she was yours, as were you.

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