#-my fault so i quit it and i never got meds for it like i thought i would but its judt 'covidbrain' and 'the rest of the wrld is like this'

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 17 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - Spencer struggles with the side effects of his medication before his worlds collide. Secrets and feelings come rushing to the surface causing Spencer to battle with his alcoholism.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - antidepressant side effects, erectile dysfunction, making out, brief mention of oral (fem! Receiving), talk of therapy, Spencer struggles with his drinking, mentions of failed masturbation, swearing, drinking, break ups.

WC - 5.8k

Chapter 17 - Someone You Loved

I’m going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me,

This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy.

I need somebody to heal,

Somebody to know,

Somebody to have,

Somebody to hold.

It's easy to say,

But it's never the same,

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain.

“I swear this has nothing to do with you.” Spencer tried to insist, a look of mortification on his face. 

Blair pulled the sheets up around her naked body, looking as uncomfortable as Spencer did. 

“I mean, I guess you wouldn’t tell me if it was.” She chewed on her bottom lip. 

The girls left for California yesterday and tonight Spencer had taken Blair to the movies before they’d ventured back to his house. 

The moment they’d walked through the door things had grown hot and heavy, a trail of clothes left between the front door and his bedroom. 

They made out fiercely for some time but nothing was happening for Spencer. Even once she was naked and he pawed at her body, there was no movement downstairs. 

He’d gone down on her in the hopes it would awaken his lifeless cock. Usually it would have worked, worshipping a woman with his tongue was one of his most favourite activities. 

But even still, his cock would not cooperate. 

Eventually Blair had shied away, clearly thinking his dicks lack of interest was her fault. 

“Goddamnit,” he shook his head as the realisation washed over him. “It’s my meds.” 

“Meds?” Blair tentatively asked.

Spencer sighed, his whole body heaving as he did so. This wasn’t how he wanted to tell her about this, he wasn’t sure he planned on telling her at all if truth be told.

“When you looked after the girls for me last week, I didn’t have a work thing. I had my first therapy session.” He would so much rather have this conversation with more clothes on. 

Blair shuffled up in the bed, keeping the sheet pulled tightly around her as she lent against the pillows. 

“Why did you lie to me?” She looked at him curiously. 

“We’d be on one date, I didn’t want to freak you out. My doctor prescribed me antidepressants. I’ve been taking them for almost a week and she said within a week I might start noticing some side effects. One of which being…”

“Erectile dysfunction.” Blair fielded when he trailed off. 

He pulled face and nodded, raking his fingers through his messy hair. 

“It won’t last forever. I did some research. Supposedly within fourteen days I should start to see the side effects wear off.” He hung his head. 

“You could have told me,” she placed her hand on his arm. “It’s ok Spencer. There’s nothing wrong with admitting you need a little help.” 

“I just didn’t want you to think I was some kind of basket case.” He glanced at her. 

“I don’t.” She insisted, smiling softly at him. “But from now on you’re going to need to be honest with me ok?” 

“You’re not leaving?” 

“Why would I leave?”

“Because…” he trailed off, nodding his head in the direction of his crotch. 

“I can wait.” She squeezed his arm. “And I didn’t exactly come away empty handed in this situation.”

“No, you did not.” That was just me.

“So no more secrets?” 

“There is one more thing I should tell you,” He shuffled in the bed so he could get a better look at her. “On our date I didn’t drink. And that’s because I’ve recently quit drinking.” 

She narrowed her eyes on him, scrutinising him. It made him feel uncomfortable. 

“You had a problem?” Her eyebrows knitted together.

“I guess. I’ve been drinking a lot since my wife left, only when my kids aren’t home. I’ve battled addiction once before, a long time ago and I didn’t want it to get to that point again. So I’ve quit drinking all together.” He pursed his lips, waiting for her reaction.

“And you didn’t tell me because of what I told you about my ex.” She nodded. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “There are a lot of men out there who have way less issues than me, way less complications. I would totally understand if you wanted to walk away before this gets serious.” 

Her expression was curious as she looked at him, lip twitching slightly at the corner. She took hold of his hand in hers.

“Why would I want to walk away?” Her smile grew until it encompassed her face. 

“So many reasons.” He laughed but Blair leaned in and kissed him. 

“I like you Spencer, you aren’t going to scare me away so easily.” She mumbled against his lips. 

“Good to know,” he cupped her face, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Before I forget, my gallery is having this big, fancy show on Tuesday night. I wondered if you wanted to come? I’ll be working up until the show starts and I might have to do some running around during the night but for the most part I should be able to enjoy it with you.” 

“I’m pretty good with my own company so even if you do need to run off I can take care of myself.” He smiled at her.

“So that’s a yes?” Her eyes sparkled.

“Yes, I’d love to come.” He kissed her again and rolled her back to the mattress, climbing on top of her.

She giggled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around him.

“What are you doing?” She laughed, his lips trailing down her neck towards her collarbones.

“Just because I can’t exactly show it right now, doesn’t mean for a second that I don’t love being between your legs.” He spoke against her skin and she moaned at his words.

His lips continued lower and her fingers threaded into his messy locks when he started kissing across the planes of her stomach. Soon his head was dipping lower and Blair’s eyes rolled back in her head. 

Spencer was only mildly disappointed when he still couldn’t get it up.

***

You smiled sleepily as Sam strolled back in the room, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and carrying two glasses of water. He got back into bed and handed you one, which you sipped before setting on the nightstand.

“I think I’m going to sleep for a week.” Your head flopped to your pillow. 

“Me too,” he chuckled, laying down to face you. “But I have to say, I very much enjoyed skipping our dinner plans for this.” 

“Agreed.” Your eyes started to flutter closed.

You’d spent the whole evening in bed together, exploring each other’s body and finding new ways to get each other off. It had been fun but you were still yearning for more, for someone else. 

Sam was good in bed, great really. But he couldn’t make you come with the ease in which Spencer always had. Sometimes it didn’t even seem as though Spencer needed to try. 

You hadn’t meant to think about him, but at some point during the night he’d just slipped to the forefront of your mind and once he was there, you couldn’t get rid of him. 

It was good with Sam but there was something missing. That spark of passion, that desperation. Hopefully one day you’d be able to stop thinking about your ex, but today certainly wasn’t that day. 

“Before you fall asleep,” Sam spoke, tucking your hair gently behind your ear. “A guy at work’s wife is an up and coming artist and she’s showing in some gallery in the district on Tuesday night. He got us all tickets and I’ve got a plus one.” 

“An art show?” You opened your eyes. 

“Yep. Super fancy apparently.” He smiled at you. 

“That sounds amazing. Let’s do it.” You pulled him close by his broad shoulder and kissed him. 

“Great, I can’t wait.” He settled down and pulled you into his arms. 

Your head found purchase on his chest and you tried to focus on the rhythmic beating of his heart. He held you close, placing sporadic kisses on the top of your head. 

Maybe one day you would grow to love him. If you could learn how to stop loving Spencer first. 

***

The girls called everyday to regale Spencer with stories from California. And despite herself, Daisy was actually having a lot of fun. 

It at least allowed Spencer to worry less about one aspect of his life. 

He dressed in his best suit, crisp white button down, black jacket and slacks paired with a black tie. He even passed on his trusty converse and went with his black dress shoes instead. 

He shaved, slicked his hair back off of his face in the hopes it wouldn’t look so messy. He spritzed a little of an old bottle of cologne he found in the back of the bathroom cabinet. 

Forgoing his satchel he slipped his keys, phone and wallet in his pocket along with the art show invite. 

Blair was already at the gallery setting up and she was meeting him there. And for some reason Spencer was incredibly nervous. 

It occurred to him that there would be alcohol at this event and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to be around that much temptation. 

He’d had his second therapy session this morning and spoken to Doctor Sanchez about it at length. 

He felt better for talking about it but he was still concerned. Maybe he’d need a meeting again soon, he was certainly craving something to take the edge off. 

It didn’t help being alone in his stupidly large house. The girls had been gone for four days, the longest he’d been on his own in this house for. 

It was too quiet all the time, too big and empty and lonely. Honestly he couldn’t wait for them to come home.

He had Taco he supposed but that somehow made the situation more depressing. 

At Luke’s instruction Spencer had installed a child gate at the bottom of his stairs to stop Taco having the run of the house. The dog needed boundaries and thus he was now only allowed on the ground floor, something Spencer was glad about but knew his kids wouldn’t be.

Luke advised to try and leave him home on his own more and not let him get used to kennels. He told him to shut Taco in the kitchen when he went out, so as to limit any destruction he may cause. 

Spencer had moved the dog's bed into the kitchen, in the corner next to the fridge. Luke told him to ensure he had food and plenty of water and even leave a couple of toys out for him to play with when he was bored, hopefully to stop him attacking anything that didn’t belong to him. 

So far Taco had not had another rampage during the small windows Spencer left him alone. Luke’s advice seemed to be working and he wasn’t sure why he was surprised about that, clearly Luke knew what he was doing.

Tomorrow Luke was coming over and they were going to take Taco to an enclosed dog park so Spencer could start to train him off lead around other dogs. Aside from Roxy, Taco was not very good with other dogs, usually hiding behind Spencer when one came near. Roxy was the exception to his rule. 

He’d also, somewhat reluctantly, talked to his Doctor about his problem with the meds. He really did not enjoy talking about the fact he couldn’t get hard but it was starting to get on his nerves. 

He’d spent a lot of time the past few days trying to masturbate. Trying and failing miserably. At best he’d managed to get a semi, but even when he did it didn’t last long before he was flaccid again. 

He felt like he was being betrayed by his own anatomy, like it had turned against him. Since he was a teenager and discovering self pleasure for the first time, Spencer had never once had a problem getting it up. 

Doctor Sanchez assured him those side effects would lessen over time and unfortunately he needed to exercise patience. He didn’t feel particularly patient though. He just wanted to have a goddamn orgasm. 

He had a half hour until the gallery opened and so he shut Taco in the kitchen, bid him adieu and left the house, trying to leave thoughts of that nature at home. 

***

You cautiously pushed open the door of the chic looking art gallery, handing your invite over to the man on the door. You swallowed nervously and stepped inside. 

It was already packed, although admittedly you were running a little late. Today was the deadline for your final thesis and you’d used every available minute you could to perfect it. 

If all went well you could have your doctorate in a few months but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself. You were using tonight as an excuse to get out of your head and just have some fun.

You spotted Sam with ease, at six foot five he towered over the crowds. He saw you too and grinned wildly at you, making a beeline for you. 

“Holy shit,” he gasped, eyes grazing up and down your body. “You look phenomenal.” 

You felt your cheeks redden and you rolled your lip between your teeth. You’d found the dress in the back of your closet, you hadn’t had an excuse to wear it in years. 

It was a black, one shoulder, floor length garment which hugged your curves in all the right places. It had a slit up one side, all the way to your thigh. 

Sam looked much like the cat that got the cream. 

“Thanks,” you shrugged. “You did say fancy.” 

“I did say that. And you delivered.” He placed his hand on your lower back and kissed you gently. 

He didn’t look so bad himself. You’d never seen him in a suit before and he looked devilishly handsome, even if the fabric of his jacket looked as though it struggled to contain his large biceps. 

In another life, he could have been a football player, he certainly had the build for it. He played in high school but ended up following in his father’s footsteps and becoming a lawyer, a very well respected one at that. 

“I want to show you off, is that ok?” He motioned you forward with his hand still on your back. 

“I didn’t get this dressed up for nothing.” You smirked. 

He picked up two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed you one before continuing to lead you forward towards the group of his work colleagues. You took a sip of your drink as you walked and accidentally nudged against someone.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” The woman halted in her tracks, her large icy blue eyes full of apologies.

Her long dark hair was curled to frame her petite face. She wore a stunning satin blue dress that cut off at the knees and she held a clipboard under one arm. 

“Don’t be, it was my fault.” You smiled at her. 

Sam removed his hand from your back and nodded in the direction of his colleagues, wordlessly telling you to join him before he headed over. 

“I think I was a little to blame, I’m getting a bit flustered.” She laughed lightly, a nice, easy sound as she motioned to the clipboard. “It’s my first big event.”

“You’re an artist?” You found yourself asking, this woman was extremely easy to talk to.

“Oh no,” she laughed again with a shake of her head. “I’m the manager here. Just making sure things are running smoothly before I can enjoy my night. I think my date would appreciate it, he’s looking a little like a spare part…I’m sorry I have no idea why I’m telling you all of this.” 

“It’s fine.” You smiled at her, hoping to calm her. ��For the record this place looks great. I mean I don’t know much about art shows but it looks like it's going pretty well.” 

“Thank you, even if you don’t know what you’re talking about that means a lot.” She laughed yet again before holding her hand out. “I’m Blair.”

“Y/N.” You shook her hand. 

“Nice to meet you. Perhaps once things have calmed down we can have a drink.” Blair shrugged awkwardly.

“I’d like that.” You nodded. “Come find me when you have a chance.” 

Blair left you with a nod of agreement before she carried on with her rounds. You took a breath and sidled up to Sam who was laughing heartily at something one of his friends had said. 

When he felt you at his side he was quick to put his arm around you, looking at you with pride swelling in his chest.

“Everyone, this is my gorgeous date, Y/N.” He beamed. “Y/N, this is Sampson, Richards, Sinclair and Montgomery.” 

“Hi,” you waved at the group. “It’s so nice to meet you all, Sam has told me so much about all of you.” 

You fell into conversation with the group, nuzzling against Sam’s side, watching him converse with these men. He was clearly in his element, a side of him coming out you hadn’t seen before.

He was more confident, he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. Perhaps it was the kind of fake laugh he used around colleagues, a persona he’d created to fit in with the other lawyers at his firm. 

You mostly stayed silent, only speaking if someone asked you a direct question. The more time you spent with Sam and his work friends, the less you felt like you fit into his world. 

When it was just the two of you things were wonderful, but after seeing him tonight with his colleagues you weren’t sure you liked this side of him. He was a little smarmy, making inappropriate jokes just to fit in with the other men. This wasn’t the Sam you’d known in college, and it wasn’t the Sam you’d gotten reacquainted with recently. 

You knew it was probably just an act but that still didn’t mean you liked it. And perhaps all those doubts you’d had about him in the back of your mind were coming to the surface all at once and flooding your senses. 

But you were sure of one thing. As you stood there like some kind of trophy on his arm, you knew you and Sam had no future together. It was possible after tonight you wouldn’t even have a tomorrow.

***

Spencer made the rounds, eyeing each of the pieces of art hanging on the stark white walls in slight confusion. He understood that art was subjective but he did not understand any of these paintings. 

Art had never been his thing. He had a few pieces in his home but they had been Maeve’s decorating choice not his. 

Maybe if Blair would stop running around like a headless chicken for two minutes she could explain some of this stuff to him. Or better yet maybe they could make out in the corner instead. 

He tried to keep his head down and ignore the near constant passing trays of champagne. He would give his right arm for a drink right about now, even if only to stem his boredom. 

After taking in the artwork he settled over by a back wall, slowly sipping a glass of water. He wanted to go home, being alone with his dog had to be better than being alone in a crowded room. 

Time passed painfully slowly, like it may have actually stopped altogether. This was not quite the night Spencer had in mind. 

It was well over an hour since he’d arrived when Blair, in a blur of blue satin, headed his way. Her clipboard was gone, and he perked up. 

“Are you done with work now? At the risk of sounding like Lily, I’m so bored.” He held his arms open for her and she embraced him, giving him a chaste kiss. 

“I think so.” She smiled guiltily. “I’m sorry I dragged you here.”

“I don’t mind being dragged places as long as I actually get to spend time with you.” 

“I’m all yours now, I swear.” She stroked his cheek. “Have I told you how handsome you look tonight?” 

“It was implied.” He smirked. “You look absolutely incredible.” 

“I don’t scrub up half bad, do I?” She giggled. 

“You most certainly do not.” 

“I met this woman earlier. She looked almost as out of place as you do and I wanted to find her, make sure she was alright.” 

“You just can’t turn off that mom-brain can you?” He teased, kissing her cheek. “Let’s go.” 

“You’re sure? I’m sorry, I know this isn’t the night you had planned.” She pouted her apology. 

“It’s fine, it’s cute that you care so much.” 

“I mean I wouldn’t take in stray dogs like some people.” 

“I’d like to see you try and say no to my girls. Honestly it’s impossible. Those damn little pleading eyes and when they pout it rips me apart.” He held his hand to his chest. 

“You’re a softy.” Blair teased, slipping her hand in his and forcibly removing him from where he’d been leaning against the wall. 

He pulled a face, slightly wounded by her words. He knew she hadn’t meant them in the way he’d taken them but he couldn’t help find the second meaning to it. 

Clearly she noticed him tense and she looked at him, quickly realising her error. 

“Not like that. I’m sorry I didn’t mean…” she trailed off and Spencer filled in the blanks in his head. 

You didn’t mean to reference the fact I can’t get a goddamn erection. 

“I know you didn’t.” He tried to shake it off. “Just touched a nerve.” 

“I’m sorry. Poor choice of words.” She squeezed his hand. 

“It’s fine, it’s just a sensitive topic.” 

“It’s still not…?”

“Cooperating? No.” He shook his head. 

“I mean I’m kinda glad it wasn’t just me.” She shrugged. 

“Trust me it is not just you.” He sighed. “But I would really rather not be talking about my sexual problems right now.” 

“Of course. Let’s go mingle shall we?” She squeezed his hand again.

“Sure.” He nodded, swallowing down his embarrassment. 

He let Blair lead him through the crowds, talked amicably to people she was trying to schmooze into buying the very expensive artwork. 

Spencer felt tense, tenser than he had already felt now his erectile issues were playing on his mind again. 

If he couldn’t even muster a little excitement seeing Blair in that sinfully tight dress, he knew he was fucked. 

On top of everything else this was literally the last thing he needed to be dealing with. He already had two kids who barely listened to him, he didn’t need the same treatment from his dick. 

Life was unusually cruel. But it was about to get a whole lot crueller. 

***

After an hour of listening to Sam and his lawyer friends you were so ready for this night to be over. 

You’d consumed three glasses of champagne but you didn’t feel the nice buzz you were hoping for. You kept checking the time on your phone, praying for this night to end so you could leave. 

And you were sure it would be you and Sam’s last date. 

Sure he was lovely and sweet when it was just the two of you but you didn’t like this man he’d become tonight. If you continued to date there would inevitably be more nights like this with colleagues and you weren’t prepared to sign up for that. 

When his friends left the two of you alone finally tearing themselves away to at least pretend to look at the artwork, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you ok? You’ve been really quiet tonight.” Sam asked once you were on your own. 

“I guess I’m just not feeling all that well. Do you mind if we go?” 

“Of course not. I’ll take you home.” He smiled, leaning in and kissing your cheek.

For a moment the rest of the night melted away and Sam was the same man you started to develop feelings for. But you had to remind yourself it wouldn’t always be like this and you knew you had to get out before things got too serious. 

He placed his hand once again on your lower back and started steering you towards the door. As you were weaving in and out people to the front of the gallery, you heard someone call your name. 

“Y/N! I’ve been looking for you.” 

You turned slowly on your heels, recognising Blair’s dulcet tone. You made eye contact with her and smiled briefly before you noticed the man standing at her side, holding her hand. 

Your eyes leisurely moved from Blair’s hand interlocked with another much larger one, up the slim frame of the man who the hand belonged to. When they landed on his face you felt your chest instantly tighten, and all the air left your lungs at lightning speed.

Spencer’s lips parted a little and you saw the way he sucked in a deep breath. But to his credit his expression didn’t change all that much.

Time seemed to stand still and Blair and Sam momentarily slipped away as the two of you stared at each other. You didn’t miss the way his eyes cast up and down your body, taking in the sight of you in that dress. 

Spencer didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when he felt the telltale stirring in his crotch seeing you in that goddamn dress. It wasn’t much, but it was the most his cock had reacted in over a week.

Blair and Sam both exchanged a look before she glanced back at you and Spencer, seemingly lost somewhere in your own world.

“Hi Y/N,” he finally spoke, his voice a little gruff. 

“Hi Spencer.” You replied, swallowing thickly. 

“You know each other?” Blair’s voice snapped you both out of the stare off and you looked at her wide eyed. 

“Uh, yeah.” You shrugged. “I guess. Uh…we were just leaving so…”

“Oh no, don’t leave!” Blair gasped, clearly not noticing the tension between you. 

“You haven’t even introduced us.” Sam’s hand ran up and down your back. 

“Right,” you nodded, your head was spinning and you thought you might throw up. “Sam, this is Spencer. Spencer, this is Sam.” 

“And Blair you seem to already know.” Spencer narrowed his eyes on you. 

“This is the woman I told you about. We met earlier.” Blair gave his hand a soft squeeze. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for a single moment. 

“So introductions over. We really have to go. It was nice to meet you Blair. And it was…” you trailed off trying to find the right word. Nice to see him? No, that would be an outright lie. “I’ll see you.” 

You grabbed Sam by the forearm and spun him around, starting to drag him towards the door before anyone could say anymore. 

Spencer watched you go, heart in his throat. Seeing you had taken him by such surprise he honestly didn’t know how to react to it. 

“So,” Blair’s tone forced him to look away from you and back at her. “I can only assume by how awkward that was, that she’s your ex-wife? I thought she was in California?”

“That’s not my ex-wife.” He shook his head, only then realising he’d never said Maeve’s name in front of Blair. “But she is an ex. We dated for a few months before I met you but it ended terribly.” 

“I can tell.” Blair rolled her eyes, freeing her hand from his. “Another secret you kept from me. We talked about dating history Spencer, you never once mentioned her.” 

“I know.” He shrugged. “I don’t have any excuses for that. I just wasn’t ready to talk about her.” 

“I don’t like being lied to, Spencer and I hate being blindsided. You need to take a breath, figure out what it is you want. I’m not looking to be messed around, I’ve been there before. I like you and if I’m the person you want to be with I’m all in. But quite frankly, I don’t want to compete with Y/N and your ex-wife.” Blair folded her arms across her chest. 

“That’s fair.” He nodded. “I’m sorry. I guess I should go. I just need some time to think, ok? But I’ll call you.” 

“Don’t,” she shook her head. “Not unless I’m the one you’re choosing.” 

With that she turned away and weaved between people until she was out of sight. Spencer felt a led weight emerge in his chest as he forced himself to leave. He shoved open the gallery door and stepped onto the dark street, briefly glancing around to see if you might still be here but came up short.

He rolled his lip violently between his teeth. The only thing he could focus on was his desperate need for a drink. He pushed everything else aside and started down the street in the direction of the nearest bar.

***

You and Sam walked in silence for a few blocks, your arms wrapped around yourself and his hands in his pockets. The silence was deafening. You wanted to say something to alleviate the discomfort but had no idea what to say. 

Eventually you heard Sam’s footsteps slowing until he stopped all together. You halted your movements too and faced him. 

“So that’s the professor?” He dove straight in.

“Was it that obvious?” You hugged your arms tighter around yourself. 

“Anyone within a five block radius could see the way he was undressing you with his eyes.” Sam scoffed.

“He was not.” You rolled your eyes. 

“Trust me Y/N, I have done the same thing to you enough tonight to know that look. And it wasn’t just the fact he was undressing you with his eyes, it was that it was clear he knew exactly what you look like under that dress.” He took his hands out of his pocket and folded his arms across his chest. 

“We both have exes, Sam.” You shrugged in frustration. 

“Yes, we do.” He agreed. “But I’m not still in love with any of mine.” 

You felt tears brimming in your eyes and you tried to blink them back. 

“There really isn’t any point in me lying to you, Sam. Yes I still have feelings for Spencer. It was recent and I guess I didn’t really give myself a chance to get over him before we started dating.” You sniffed.

“Well here’s your chance.” He spat. 

“What do you mean?” You frowned at him. 

“You can have all the time in the world to get over him Y/N because I’m out. I’m done.” He dropped his arms to his sides. 

“Sam, don’t say that.” You took a step closer to him but he shook his head.

“I’m not looking to be a rebound, Y/N. I’ve been crazy about you since college. I always thought the reason I never settled down was because of you. I couldn’t believe my luck when I bumped into you again, it felt like fate or something. But I don’t want to be with someone who wants to be with someone else.” He ran his fingers through his hair and started pacing the sidewalk.

You had a horrible feeling of deja vu, except you were Sam and Spencer was you. It took you back to the day on the front steps of your building after you’d heard Spencer confess his feelings for his ex-wife. 

What Sam was saying felt so reminiscent of what you’d told Spencer that day.

I think you need to deal with whatever residual emotions you’ve been harbouring for her before you jump into something else. I don’t want to be someone’s second choice, Spencer.

Right now you couldn’t even begin to unpack how much it hurt that instead of dealing with his feelings for Maeve, he’d found someone else. Someone beautiful with electric eyes and a heart warming laugh. 

Someone who wasn’t you. 

You swallowed, understanding exactly where Sam was coming from and knowing you couldn’t argue with him. It wasn’t fair on him, it wasn’t fair on you. 

“You’re right. It’s not fair on you, I really am sorry.” Your first tear fell.

“So I am.” He sighed. “So am I.” 

***

He sat at the bar staring down into the glass of scotch. It had remained untouched since the bartender placed it in front of him and the ice cubes had started to melt. 

In the last twenty minutes he’d typed out three different text messages to you.

📱 Y/N, it was really good to see you tonight. I hope everything is well with you. Enjoy the rest of your summer. 

📱 Y/N, can we talk? I would really like to talk to you, so maybe you can meet me for a drink? I’m at Dooley’s near the art gallery. Please come and meet me. 

And finally - 

📱 Y/N, I miss you so fucking much. Seeing you tonight was like a jolt of electricity. I’ve been an idiot. I love you, I love you so much. Please say you still love me too. 

So far he had not sent a single one, which was probably for the best. Instead he continued to stare down into the taunting drink and contemplated throwing away his newfound sobriety in lieu of getting blind drunk just to take some of his pain away. 

His life was just one fuck up after another recently and no matter how hard he tried to better himself he kept stumbling over each new hurdle. 

He pulled out his phone again and opened the photos app. His phone was old and the images were grainy but he needed a reminder of why he needed to stay sober. 

He pulled up a recent picture of Daisy and Lily, Taco cradled in the younger girl's lap as they smiled brightly for the camera. 

A tear crept from his eye. He missed them so much. He wished they were here, wished he could hold them, to feel tethered to them in order to stop himself from throwing his life away at the bottom of a bottle. 

It was too late to call but he wished he could hear their voices, have them pull him back from the brink. 

Maybe he should call Tara. 

Chances were she was working and if she wasn’t she’d no doubt be at home in bed at this hour. 

He didn’t want to burden her, but he could really use a meeting right now and he certainly wasn’t strong enough to go on his own. 

He pulled up his contacts and located her number. His thumb hovered above it for a moment or two before he slammed the device back on the bar counter. 

Then he picked up the glass and downed the scotch in one. And then he quickly ordered another. 

@foxy-eva @kbakery @chrissyflo3 @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @redbulldinner @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @andiebeaword @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @thebloomingeagle

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[in1-nutshell]

Hey now that I have seen that you're requests are now open again I have a few ideas how about old Predacon buddy meeting shattered glass how would but even react

This Predacon is in for another dimension travel.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy the Old Predacon meets SG! Megatron, Starscream and Soundwave

SFW, Platonic, slight angst, mention of death but briefly and no details, Cybertronain reader

SG/TFP

The Buddy woke up in another unfamiliar place and just knew they were going to be in for it.

 For one they were on the Nemesis med slab.

Second, the first bot they saw was Megatron.

With blue optics.

…

Buddy breaks through their restraints and jumps back.

“Megatron! What are you doing?!”--Buddy

Megatron raises his servos in front of him in surrender.

“Please, calm down. I am not here to hurt you.”--Megatron

Buddy looks at Megatron’s optics and slight frame change.

“Megatron, what happened to your optics? And your frame?”--Buddy

Megatron raises an optic.

“Buddy—”--Megatron

Buddy face palms.

“Oh Primus… I’m in another dimension, aren’t I?”--Buddy

“…You did show up in a ball of light on the flight deck.”--Megatron

“That checks out. You wouldn’t mind explaining what is going on in this universe would you?”--Buddy

“Of course. We have a room on the board for you to stay in.”--Megatron

“…Thank you Megatron.”--Buddy

While touring the Nemesis, Buddy gets introduced to this universes Starscream and Soundwave.

Buddy had to admit that they caught them a bit off guard with their personalities.

Starscream seemed to be like a mother hen and cared for those around him.

Soundwave was quite a chatterbox and extremely expressive.

Starscream looking at a dent in Buddy’s side.

“You should get that looked at Buddy.”--Starscream

Buddy looking at him a bit surprised.

“Oh… No thank you Starscream, I’ll be fine.”--Buddy

“Okay… but if it gets worse you let me know. I will personally get you to Knockout and Breakdown.”--Starscream

Soundwave lift up one of Buddy’s wings.

“Primus! I forgot how heavy your wings were! They are so big! I mean look at them!”--Soundwave

Buddy looks a bit startled but masks it up with a smile.

“What ‘were’?”--Buddy

“Let’s move on with the tour!”--Megatron

Buddy gives Megatron a side eye but leaves it alone for now.

They met some of the others on the ship but mainly stayed with the three of them.

Buddy noticed that Megatron stayed particularly close to them. He rarely left their side during the entire time they were in this universe.

Buddy brushed it off for a bit, but eventually got too curious about it. And after hearing their alternative and the usage of past tense…

And how many of the Decepticons looked at them with either double takes or with nostalgia optics.

They needed to know what was happening.

Buddy sits down next to Megatron outside the flight deck of the Nemesis.

They sit in silence.

“…Something happened to my alternative, didn’t it?”--Buddy

Megatron tenses at the question.

“You don’t have to answer it Megatron. A simple Yes or No will suffice. I don’t need to hear any of the details if you don’t want to talk about it.”--Buddy

“… You were once a part of this team, this family. But on day we were ambushed by the Autobot’s. The cavern was caving in… you… you and your selflessness… you fought Nemesis to buy us time to get out… You never came through the groundbrigde… We went back to get you… but it was too late…”--Megatron

Megatron pauses for a minute before continuing.

“Nemesis snuffed your spark before we got the chance to help you… buried in the rubble… and…”—Megatron

Megatron looks down at his servos.

Buddy wordlessly wraps Megatron in one of their wings as several tears escape his optics.

“It was all my fault Buddy…”--Megatron

Buddy huffs a bit making Megatron look at them.

“If this Buddy is anything like me, Megatron, I highly doubt that they would want it any other way. They went out trying to save their family. And they would want to whack your helm for even thinking that this was your fault. It’s not your fault Megatron.”--Buddy

Megatron leans a bit more into Buddy’s side.

They fall into a comfortable silence for the next hour before returning inside.

Soon after a few more days Buddy was sent back home.

The portal once again showed up and Buddy knew it was time to say goodbye to everyone.

Buddy wraps their wings around the Con’s.

“Thank you, my friends. Till we meet again!”--Buddy

The Cons wave back as Buddy steps into the portal.

Back in TFP…

Buddy finds themselves in one of the hallways of the base.

Buddy looks around and spots Optimus working on the main screen.

Wordlessly they walk over to the Prime and gently place their helm on his shoulder.

Optimus looks over.

“Buddy?”--Optimus

“Shush… Just let me have this Prime. It’s been a long couple of days.”--Buddy

Optimus is slightly worried about his friend’s recent disappearance again but opts to listen to their request instead.

He would find out the latest adventure soon enough.

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #tfp x platonic reader

[saetoru]

#𝐈'𝐌 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 (𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐎)

☰ SYNOPSIS ⋮ he doesn’t make a lot of good decisions, but ran thinks threatening you with a gun was one of his better ones. or basically haitani ran slowly falling in love with you every time he climbs through your balcony

— pairing ⋮ haitani ran x reader

— length ⋮ 10.6k words (my fault boss)

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, mentions of blood, drugs, and violence (bonten activities), strangers to lovers, bonten! ran, jealous! ran, kind of slow burn-ish, mutual pining, stab wounds (on ran), med student! reader, he threatens you with a gun to patch him up rip, fingering, gun play, edging, dacryphilia, handjobs, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, pet names (princess, doll, pretty girl)

— notes ⋮ this is the most cliche thing i’ve ever written—and i’ve written a lot of cliche things. but i wanted to write at least one cliche gangster romance. ty ris and cat for hearing me ramble about this and reading over it ily <3

the first time ran comes to your apartment, it’s by mistake. he’s got a stab wound to his arm—from who, he doesn’t quite know, but he’ll sure as hell find out eventually—and a couple of cops tailing him. he doesn’t know what else to do but climb to the first-floor balcony of the apartment building behind him. 

your first-floor apartment’s balcony, that is.

scaling up the wall and climbing over the railing is easy enough, he’s got a great build and even better athletic ability—although, it does leave a searing sting in his wound and a throb up his arm that makes him stagger for a moment. and then he crouches under the little table you’ve set up for reading—there’s not much fresh air or wowing sights to intake in this side of the city, so all it’s really good for is to sit down and read at sometimes. 

he hears the cops turn the corner, listens as their footsteps pound against the sidewalk as they run, and then he grins to himself when the sounds become more and more faint, and it becomes more and more apparent that he’s lost them. he waits one more moment before standing—because being in this game as long as he has, with a name as big as his, he knows that being messy is nothing if not a gunshot to your head and the rest of your affiliates being  tracked down. so he waits a few minutes, chuckles through a gritted jaw from the pain at his victory, and he stands. 

and then he comes face to face with you. 

you stand there, staring at him through the glass with your mouth agape, eyes falling immediately to the blood on his arm and the small knife lodged in the skin through his sleeve, and you tremble. and now he’s doomed because you’ll scream, the cops will come running, and there’s no way he’s gonna scale back down in time to run away—nor does he think he has the stamina anymore. so he does the one thing he’s good at. sweet talk. 

and by that, he pulls out his gun and holds it to your forehead through the glass door—with a smile, though, that’s the part that makes it sweet. 

“alright, listen here woman. i won’t shoot your brains out if you don’t start causing a scene. deal?” he raises a brow, and you look almost like you’re seconds from taking the gun from out of his hands and pulling the trigger on yourself. it almost makes him feel a little bad. 

almost. 

“i-i…d-don’t worry, i’d never!” you quickly stumble over your words, frantically trying to persuade him you’re not going to make things worse and he won’t have a reason to splatter your brain all over your room for your family and friends to find. “i d-don’t even…it’s not like i care! you can do what you want,” you chuckle nervously, “seriously, i don’t judge. i’m totally not a judgey person, really. no tattling to any cops here,” you even make a show to zipper your mouth shut with your hand and throw away imaginary keys.

he almost snorts. to be quite honest, you’re kind of cute— in a pathetic and weak kind of way. and you seem to be trying to convince yourself more than him that you’re not a threat, but still, he lowers his gun. 

and since he’s not exactly known for being a good man—which is not without reason, either—and because he argues to himself he’ll never see you again and it couldn’t really hurt, he taps against the doorknob with the head of his gun. 

“open this door,” he demands, “unless you want me to shoot at the knob and let myself inside. then i won’t be nice, though,” he smiles with sickeningly faux sweetness. if he shoots at the door, the cops will definitely find him, and then he’ll definitely get caught. not before he’d have managed to kill you though, but something tells him knowing you’re dead won’t really make jail all that more enjoyable for him. 

but it doesn’t matter anyway because the threat is enough that it makes you gulp before you move to unlock the door. 

“p-please don’t hurt me, mister,” you sniffle, opening the door as you stare at him with watery eyes. 

ran doesn’t kill strangers, and he certainly doesn’t kill women and children. not that you know that, of course—and not that you have reason to believe it either. he’s sure you’ve spotted the bonten tattoo on his neck by now, and he knows it doesn’t really paint a great image for him in your head. bonten isn’t exactly known for having morals—however loose they may be—that leaves women and children out of it. but ran and rindou come to an agreement at young ages that the two of them would live by that rule, even if any organization they join doesn’t.

“i’ll let ya off the hook if my wound’s cleaned and my stomach’s full,” he spits—he doesn’t really talk to people this way, that’s more rindou’s style. ran is a bit smoother, purrs out saccharine words. the first thing you learn in this line of business is that drugs are easy to mask under sweet, sugary tastes. one wrong move and that drink you’re offered is the reason you’re tied up with a pistol pressed to your skull. that’s how ran likes to go about business, so sweet and undetected, the pistol is pressed against the back of your head before you even have a chance to realize it’s coming. 

“i don’t…i haven’t m-made dinner yet—”

“then you better get cooking,” he chuckles condescendingly, tapping his gun to your arm. you whimper in fear, and he almost feels remorseful…until his arm throbs again, worse than ever this time. he lets out a low groan in pain, hissing as he stares down at his injury, trying his best to assess how bad it is—until you reach forward and catch his attention. 

he takes a step back, and instinctively holds his gun up until you hold your hands up in surrender. gulping, you fumble over your words again. 

“i can…umm, i work in a hospital,” you say quietly, “i just…i can treat that,” you point to his arm, “it doesn’t look too bad, so don’t worry.”

ran stares at you for a moment in disbelief—how can someone so close to passing out, who stumbles over their words so much, work in such a stressful place under such pressure? but he counts his blessings and simply nods. 

“kay, get to it then, i don’t have all day.”

“it’s uh…it’s night,” you whisper, and then your eyes widen before you sputter. “s-sorry, i just…i have an awful habit of like…you know, being too literal when i’m nervous. my boss, she uh, she hates it. well, i think she hates me in general, but i—”

“you talk a lot,” he says bluntly, “it’d probably get you killed by now if it wasn’t me.”

“oh,” you squeak. this time, he does let himself snort in amusement. “my bathroom is this way,” you point to the door on the opposite side of the room. he waits a moment, watching as you simply stand before raising a brow. 

“feel free to lead the way.”

“oh, right!”

——

in your defense, you didn’t think someone would climb onto your balcony the same second you come home from work ready to cry your eyes out. whoever said get a job and be self-sufficient and work to be successful and be a woman-in-stem and all that other bullshit being a good idea was a liar. you are not defining your own future—because at this rate, you’re not even sure you’re gonna live long enough to have one. 

either the stress will cause you to drop dead in the middle of your shift or the lovely gangster man who forcefully broke into your home right before your breakdown will kill you. whichever comes first, your money’s on either one. 

you don’t usually act this pathetic. usually, you just bite your tongue and hold onto the long thread that is your patience. but this man has caught you in a very bad moment with a very bad situation and well…you’re only human. 

so you may be making a tad bit of a fool of yourself, but he seems to be decently approving of your actions if he’s whistling behind you as you gather the first aide kit in your bathroom. 

“tiny bathroom you got here,” he mumbles, peering over your shoulder as you gather disinfectant, and the bane of his existence—needle and thread to do stitches.

it causes you mild irritation because really, who does this guys think he is? he trespasses onto your property (it’s rented, but that’s not the point), interrupts your mental breakdown, holds a gun to your head, enters your home, demands your services and food, and now he’s nitpicking over the size of your bathroom? you almost wish the stab wound was over his heart and not his arm, just so you can tell him there’s nothing you can do and watch him bleed out over your sink with your own two eyes. 

but then there would be a dead corpse in your bathroom, and explaining how that got there would be an entirely new problem, and you’re not sure an aspiring healthcare professional can afford to have a smudge quite like this one on their record. so you keep yourself levelheaded—but that doesn’t mean you can’t be at least a little petty. 

“i’m a medical student,” you huff, “you try paying for a large bathroom and tuition.”

“touchy subject, huh?” he chuckles. ran glances around some more—there’s a towel with stethoscopes on it by the sink, he eyes it with an amused look. 

“that was from the hospital i work at,” you mumble when you notice where his eyes have wandered, “they gave those in a bag as a little welcome gift. i thought i might as well use it instead of buying one myself, you know?”

“right,” he nods, biting back another laugh, “saving money. i like it, it’s financially responsible.”

“it’s a cute towel,” you huff, pouting slightly. when you’re not nervous and seconds from passing out from fearing for your life, you’re funny, ran decides. in an unintentional, rambling type of way. it’s kind of cute, but also entirely too naive—which is dangerous in a city like this.

“it is,” he nods seriously—because really, it kind of is. the stethoscopes have hearts on them. “so, what made you decide to be a med student? you love people? wanna be a hero? you have a passion for helping those who need—”

“i didn’t know what else to do,” you shrug, “so i picked it, and now i’m in too deep to back out.”

that’s not the answer he was expecting, but somehow, he likes it better than his guesses. it’s not that disgustingly self-righteous talk of giving back to the world or doing good for others he was prepared to hear. and in a world that doesn’t offer any good, he’s glad you’re not naively handing it out for free. 

“so how—”

“give me your arm,” you cut him off, and now there’s a completely new side of you that he’s seeing—which is funny considering he’s known you for five minutes tops, but by now he’s seen you go from terrified to bashful to now serious. he figures this is the work side of you, the side that actually does seem equipped to shoulder working at a hospital—he has to hand it to you, you seem quite suited for the field. 

“here you are, milady—ow, fuck, that shit stings,” he hisses, clenching his teeth as you pull the knife and begin to clean the wound. 

“for someone who’s in the most feared gang in the nation, you’re kind of a pussy when it comes to injuries.”

“the fuck did you just call me?” he growls, sweat collecting on his forehead as he lets out labored pants. now it’s your turn to chuckle, and ran decides that since your laugh isn’t the ugliest, he’ll let this slide. 

that and his arm really fucking hurts. 

“i said you’re pussy when it comes to injuries,” you grin.

“not takin’ shit from the same woman that cried like five minutes ago. please don’t hurt me, mister,” he mocks, voice turning a pitch higher to imitate your voice as he fake sniffles to reenact your moment of weakness. rolling your eyes, you shoot him a light glare. 

“they don’t hold guns at my face in the hospital,” you grumble, “excuse me if i was scared. and you aren’t the nicest when asking for help, you know. a please and thank you can take you a long way.”

“spare me,” he grumbles, “pleases and thank you’s don’t do shit in my line of work.”

“well, your line of work is what made you hold a gun to my head in the first place, so i already hate it.” he laughs—genuinely this time. not because you’re helpless or because you’re so awkward it’s entertaining. you pull a real laugh out of him this time, and it’s a boyish one, a bit too charming for someone who can kill you in under five seconds.

“true—”

“okay, done.” you interrupt as you tighten the stitches and tie the knot. he flinches a little as you pull on the thread to tighten your handiwork before registering what you just said—done.

“already?”

“aw, did my company entertain you enough to keep you distracted?” you tease. he realizes now that he’s been so busy bantering with you, that he doesn’t even realize you’ve started stitching him up, let alone finished. he has to admit, you’re definitely cut out for your job, even if you really don’t seem it at first.

“don’t flatter yourself, doll,” he grunts, letting you wrap his arm as he looks off to the side. now that he’s not worrying about the hunk of metal sticking into his flesh anymore, he’s a lot more aware of your proximity as you finish patching him up. 

it’s oddly comforting—he’s never really been patched up in a small bathroom with cute stethoscope towels. usually, it’s in bonten hideouts, with people they’ve hired to take care of injuries like this. that or he does it himself, he’s figured out how to treat at least a few injuries after all these years. but he’s never had someone so close in a setting that’s almost domestic, never had anyone hum as they clean up the medical kit, never had someone who pokes their tongue out a bit when they’re concentrated. 

but before he can internally curse himself for letting him enjoy something a little less rough than what he’s used to, you’re interrupting his thoughts. 

“so, dinner and then you’ll leave me alone, right?” you raise a brow. obviously, you’re not too keen on keeping him here for long—and that’s probably for the best, he rationalizes. 

so with a scoff,  he stands, shooting you a small glare. “nah, forget it. i don’t need dinner anymore.” you blink before furrowing your brows, and he walks towards the door. he stops for a moment before just barely looking over his shoulder to cast you a glance. “thanks for fixin’ up my arm.”

———————————————

for a while, you’re mildly offended he skipped dinner after he already got free medical service from you. arguably, if you had charged him for either, you’d have made a decent number off of the stitching, and you can’t help but roll your eyes that of course, he didn’t choose to bail on the more pricier of your (forced) free services. plus, he’s left drops of blood on your balcony that you had to scrub at and rinse away.

what an asshole. 

but still, a part of you kind of wishes maybe he’d have stayed for dinner—which is crazy, absolutely foolish. but he wasn’t bad company…at least when he wasn’t threatening to kill you, of course. and he didn’t even tell you his name, which you were kind of hoping you could ask over dinner. not because you wanted to get closer or anything, just that you feel it’s at least courtesy to tell someone your name after you trespass, threaten to kill, and then break in and demand help. 

really, he’s such an asshole. 

but life goes on, and you return to your shitty job with your shitty hours and your shitty boss. and it’s all back to normal for maybe…one week—and really, you probably should’ve figured that an encounter that’s as downright cliche and out of a novel as that one would lead to your life being anything but normal afterward, but for a small period of time you really let yourself believe. 

he’s back in one week with that grin on his face that makes you want to smash your head against the wall. and, because he’s just that taunting, he has the audacity to tap against the glass of your balcony door with that damn gun of his again. 

“i don’t suppose you’re here for a free physical now too, are you?” you huff as you open the door, making him grin at you widely as he lets himself in. he seats himself on your bed, spreading his legs widely in a way that almost seems inappropriate. he smirks a little when you quickly look away. “unfortunately this is not a free clinic.”

“i did not want a physical,” he chuckles, “but if you really wanna do one on me that bad, i won’t say no—”

“i’m calling the cops,” you spit. he only lays back against your mattress, hands behind his head as he snorts in amusement. 

seriously, how much of an asshole can a guy be?

“i’ll just shoot you,” he shrugs. “i’ve shot people for less.” somehow, the last part doesn’t feel like a lie, so you decide to drop the topic all together—you don’t really want to test the theory of whether or not he really will shoot you.

“what’re you here for,” you squint, crossing your arms and tapping your foot against the floor at him like you’re waiting for an explanation he owes you. your ability to have so many personalities is truly astounding, ran thinks, you’re almost completely different from the sniffly and petrified woman he met just a week ago through the glass door—except you’re still kind of trembling from a distance away, a distance you seem keen on keeping.

“for dinner, of course,” he grunts like it’s obvious. “i had to cut our last date short, but i did say dinner was part of the deal. otherwise, i’ll just have to shoot you,” he says with a dramatic sigh. it almost makes your vein pop—of course, he picks the time convenient for him to snatch a dinner out of you, and of course, it has to be the night you decide to buy more pricey items from the grocery store to treat yourself for once. 

you’re almost certain that his bank account has more than enough funds, and even if it doesn’t, he really isn’t someone people would deny free services if they want to live—you can attest to that yourself, so you can’t imagine why he can’t just get dinner elsewhere. but still, you sigh before you let your shoulders slump and your arms drop to your sides. 

“it was not a date,” you firmly remind him, “but fine,” you grumble. “but the deal was dinner—and then you have to be out of my hair for good,” you warn. 

“of course,” he grins, winking at you. 

it’s not all too convincing, but you sigh and nod anyway. 

——

the rest of your apartment is just as small and cramped as your bathroom is, ran notes this almost instantly. it practically feels like the size of a storage closet in the bonten mansion, but he doesn’t tell you that. he might be a gangster, but he’s still got some manners in him. 

still, something about the little throw pillows you pile on the couch and the small glass figures you have on the tables makes him feel a bit more at home here than he ever has in the mansion. it’s small and cozy and it has what it needs, nothing more and nothing less. 

he likes it—thinks the couch might be a perfect spot for him to nap on occasionally. but just as the thought trespasses his mind, he shoves it back out with a frown on his face. he cannot be daydreaming about napping on your couch. 

“dinner almost ready?” he asks impatiently, head on his arms as he has them folded over your dining table. you chop vegetables and scowl, throwing him a dirty look as you scoff. 

“dinner doesn’t happen in ten minutes,” you roll your eyes. he mumbles something under his breath and you move back to chopping vegetables—and then you ask the question you’ve been waiting to ask. “what’s your name?” 

“what’s it to you,” he raises a brow. 

“i scrubbed your blood off my balcony floor, let you point a gun to my head multiple times, cleaned and stitched your injury for free, and now i’m letting you eat my dinner. you can either pay me the bills for your maintenance or you can tell me your name,” you snap, making his eyes twinkle with amusement as he gives you a lopsided smirk. it grates at your nerves, makes you want to grab him by his lilac hair like it’s the scruff of his neck and toss him off your balcony. 

but he hums before shrugging, “guess you’re right,” he admits. “haitani. haitani ran. you?”

“what’s it to you,” you mock his earlier statement, and he rolls his eyes in a way that can almost be described as fond. 

“i like to at least know the names of the people i shoot in the head,” he teases, and you contemplate if you’d be able to aim straight for his heart if you threw your knife at him right about now. but once again, that probably would end with a tarnished legal record, and you don’t really want to watch all your hard work wash down the drain for a man whose hair looks like he showed the Trolls movie poster as his reference photo. instead, you just huff and mutter out your name for him, which he repeats quietly as if testing the sound as it rolls off his tongue. 

“i’ve heard your name on the news,” you add, “you sure do have the cops running in circles for you, haitani ran.”

“‘s not like they’ll ever catch me,” he shrugs, “and if they get close, it’s not like they ever live long enough to get any closer.”

“that’s very reassuring to hear,” you say sarcastically, but either the sarcasm flies over his head, or he simply doesn’t care to acknowledge it. 

“no worries, i’m not getting caught any time soon,” he drums his fingers on the edge of your table, throwing you a cheshire grin as you toss the vegetables in the pan and stir. 

“very glad to hear that,” you scoff. 

“i’m sure,” he hums, chuckling lowly, “more dinners i can keep you company during.” 

you throw him a warning glance, making him turn away with a grin as he whistles. it gives you deja vu to the night in your bathroom, which almost instantly springs on a headache. in fact, you think ran might as well be a living, breathing, walking headache. 

“the deal was that you’d spare me and leave me alone if i cleaned your wound and fed you dinner. you never said anything about this being a regular thing.”

“well, that’s why you gotta read the fine print, they always got catches in them,” he retorts, and now you’re really considering throwing your knife at him. at this point, you don’t even care if it lands at his heart—as long as it lands somewhere. 

“there’s no fine print in a verbal agreement, asshole,” you spit. 

“i whispered it,” he winks, “it’s basically the same thing.” 

you’re starting to see why the police want to lock haitani ran behind bars so much, this man can’t possibly be allowed to wander freely amongst others—he’s horrendously bad for physical and mental wellbeings. 

———————————————

ran likes your cooking. it’s hearty and homely and tastes like something you’d make on a budget—but it’s still good and that’s why he likes it. 

it doesn’t taste like the expensive stuff he always eats, he doesn’t eat simple dishes too often—in fact, he can’t remember the last time he even had something simple to eat at all. it must’ve been back when he was younger, when he and rindou lived off of cup ramen and other snacks all the time, when they reveled in being able to eat all the junk food in the world without being told no. but even then, ran never got to eat a real home-cooked meal very often, and your cooking satiates a certain type of starvation he still suffers even after living such a lavish lifestyle. 

so he returns every once in a while, joins you for dinner as he sits at your tiny dining table and watches you cook, lets you complain about your boss and your patients and your classes as you add spices and stir the pot. he laughs, makes a joke or two, which then, of course, makes you laugh too, and he thinks he can get used to this. 

eventually, he starts leaving cash on the counter before he leaves to make up for all the extra grocery shopping you’re now doing to feed two mouths instead of one. he quietly leaves it there before you can say anything, and after a few back and forth arguments, you finally just let it be. if he could, he’d fund for you to move to a nicer apartment, something bigger, somewhere safer and a shorter distance from your work, somewhere where the balcony of your room isn’t just good for reading, but for some fresh air and a nice view of the city. but he knows you’ll never let him, and he doesn’t dare offer.

a short while after that, he even starts helping around the kitchen—which mostly only means he washes dishes and taste tests for anything the food might need because he’s not much skilled in doing anything else. but it’s nice, you form your own rhythm together, and it almost feels like he’s a well-knit piece to your carefully woven life. 

and he doesn’t threaten to shoot you anymore—even if he never really meant to in the first place. he ends up changing phones often, being in a criminal organization means he has to use burners left and right, but he always sends you a text every night he leaves and signs it with a water gun emoji. 

the first time he signs off with it, you tease him. great emoji for a gangster, you send, and you giggle when you all but imagine the scoff you know he must’ve let out. not my fault there’s no real gun emoji, he sends you back. it becomes a nice added bonus you look forward to with each visit. 

that, and getting away with making him do your dirty work. 

“ran, make yourself useful and help me carry these,” you point to a pile of books by your door. he raises a brow, staring at them like they’re too suspicious for him to touch. 

“what'dya need that many books for?”

“to study,” you scoff, rolling your eyes, “they just got delivered and they’re heavy. and seeing as you had no trouble climbing my balcony with a stabbed arm, you’re strong enough to lift these,” you point at the pile. he rolls his eyes and scoffs, but still, he reaches and easily lifts the pile that would take you maybe three trips on your own. 

“already got me being your little maid, huh?” he mutters, “washing dishes, carrying things around, what’s next? you gonna make me do your plumbing too?”

“can you do plumbing?” you giggle, “because then—”

“not happening,” he snorts, “nice try though, princess.” he sets the books down by the desk in your room, turning to flick the tip of your nose gently. it makes you crinkle it slightly before swatting his hand away. he thinks you look cute like that, nose crinkled and a soft grin tugged at your lips—blissfully unaware of how good you look. “you really need all these books to study? why can’t they just teach you the shit in class instead of makin’ you buy all this.”

“it’s additional aid that’s optional,” you inform him, like it’s common knowledge. but then again, you don’t think haitani ran is the type of guy who spent most of his time in school, let alone worrying about higher education. “but that almost always means it’s gonna be on the exams, so then it’s not really optional anymore,” you grumble. “college is a scam.”

“that’s why i just steal,” ran grins, “didn’t need college to pay my bills.”

“so then how do you have that cash you insist on leaving me for the groceries?”

“i steal that too, princess,” he snorts, “unless we get it from shit we sell—usually that’s stolen too.”

“i’ll stick to college then,” you mumble.

“probably for the best,” ran nods, almost a little too seriously. you raise a brow, and it makes a smile tug at his lips before he finally lets out the chuckle he’s been trying to fight back. “you would probably start cryin’ and turn yourself in after the first day.”

“would not,” you scoff, “i’m not stupid.”

“right,” he grins. “well, i’ll be on my way if that’s all the maid work ya need me to do for today. i’ll swing by tomorrow and—”

“oh, i won’t be home tomorrow,” you hum as you straighten out papers on your desk. he tilts his head, furrowing his brows a bit in confusion—and slight disgruntlement. 

in all honesty, he shouldn't be this irritated that you have your own plans and your own life, you really only see ran once a week—sometimes less than that if he’s exceptionally busy, or you’re loaded with work and school. but he can’t deny that there’s just a small bit of him that’s irked that your free time isn’t only reserved for him, even though he knows it’s highly irrational. 

“and why not?” he asks, trying to mask the unimpressed tone his voice desperately wants to lace with his words. 

‘because i—” you spin, to face him, grinning widely, “—have a date. and he’s cute. and,” you drawl with a sing-song voice, “he’s smart.”

“smart,” ran repeats. the word tastes acrid on his tongue. it fuels something in him that doesn’t come out too often, a part of him that’s hungry for something worse than a petty fight. something purely dangerous and purely violent—something ugly that only shows up when he’s in charge of taking down a traitor, or rindou’s been messed with, or he’s been disrespected by a subordinate. 

“yeah,” you nod, and you giggle—like he’s your friend and you’re telling him about some schoolgirl crush on the playground. he clenches his fist. “he’s really smart,” you say excitedly, “it’s really hot.”

“right,” he spits. “well, you have fun with that. i’ll see you…” he hesitates for a moment, trailing off before he ultimately doesn’t even care anymore, “i’ll see you when i see you.”

“what does that mean—”

the door to your room is closed shut, and a moment later, so is the front door. you stare at the spot he stood at just a moment ago in confusion, sitting in silence for a few moments before shrugging and turning to your textbooks. 

it’s alarmingly difficult to focus when you don’t get a text signed with a water gun tonight. 

———————————————

smart. 

the sound of your voice repeating that one word replays on his mind on loop—and he’s sick of this track, has been since he first heard it.

haitani ran is a lot of things, but he supposes smart isn’t one of them—which isn’t to say he’s stupid, he’s just not an academic guy like your supposed date. it makes his fists clench because he basically (sort of) has a domestic little life with you, and some asshole with a perfect gpa is pulling giggles out of you without even trying. ran would love to see the look on this guy’s face when he finds out that you and ran cook together—even if you do most of the cooking and all he really does is wash dishes. and he especially wants to see the look on the guy’s face at the fact that you make his favorite for dinner every time he visits. 

and at this point, rindou thinks everyone in bonten can tell something’s eating away at his brother, it’s crystal clear. it’s extra evident today because rindou is almost never the voice of reason, it’s always ran.

except right now—right now, haitani rindou is the voice of reason, and it’s alarmingly out of the ordinary. 

“bro, i think the guy’s had enough—”

“shut up, rindou,” ran grits, his baton slamming away at the very disfigured face under him. blood paints the concrete in splatters, and at this rate, rindou thinks the man’s face and the sidewalk might just become one with how violently his brother is thrashing away at the man’s head. 

“dude,” rindou tugs once at ran’s shoulder, and almost too easily, he’s able to pry him away. ran should never be this easy to pry away from an opponent. he casts a slightly concerned glance at the older of the two before he pulls ran to his feet and raises a brow. “the fuck’s gotten into you?”

“what do you mean? i’m fine,” ran grunts, spitting a mixture of blood and spit on the ground, rubbing away at the spot on his jaw where he’d been punched. it’s unlike him to start fights through hostility, ran has a charm to him that rarely lets things escalate unless they were meant to be escalated from the start. he sweet talks his way through any and everything, doesn’t involve himself until he absolutely has to—he never instigates a fight that lands him getting the first punch. 

“yeah, sure,” rindou scoffs, “fuck you. tell me or i’ll wrestle it out of you,” he threatens. 

“you won’t beat me,” ran raises a brow. in a way only a younger sibling can get away with, rindou flashes his brother the brattiest grin he can manage—which is rather bratty for a grown man in the largest criminal organization in the country.

“yeah i would,” rindou snickers, “you’d never hit me back. now what’s up your ass, bro?”

on any other day, ran would throw a (very soft) punch to his brother’s shoulder to prove rindou wrong, but he doesn’t care to at the moment—which only concerns rindou more. sighing, ran runs a bloodied hand through his hair. the sting of his knuckles reminds him of you, how you’d scoff as he holds them up at you, how you’d make some snide comment about your apartment not being a clinic and your services not being free, how even despite that, you’d carefully cradle his hand close to you as you’d clean the dried blood and disinfect the busted skin, how you’d stick your tongue out in concentration while ran would smile at the sight. 

and for a moment, it really hits him how much you have someone like him softened up for you—and that might be dangerous, but he thinks the even more dangerous part is that he doesn’t find it in him to care. 

he wants you, and whatever means he has to go through, ran thinks he’ll do it to have you. but he doesn’t think there’s anything he can really do, no matter if he uses his gun or baton or fists, if you don’t want him back. 

“is this to do with that girl?” rindou asks bluntly. throwing his brother a dirty look, ran scoffs as he shakes his head. 

“no, it’s nothing to do with that girl,” he grunts, “and she has a name.”

rindou snorts, looking his brother in the eye with amusement on his face that makes ran scowl. “yeah right,” he rolls his eyes, “that’s about as likely as this guy’s nose not being broken,” he deadpans, gesturing at the unconscious figure laying on the ground a few inches away. 

“man, fuck you,” ran clicks his teeth, letting out an irritated huff before looking off to the side. it’s quiet for a moment before he finally grunts lowly. “fine. she’s got a date,” he mutters, barely audible. 

rindou must hear it though because he offers a slow, sympathetic nod as he takes in the words. 

“damn, sounds like it sucks.” ran almost wants to scoff at the words. you think? he wants to spit, but he doesn’t have the energy to start an argument. “you should probably…i don’t know, maybe just tell her how you feel?” rindou raises a brow. he’s judging ran a little bit, he can feel it.

now ran really does want to start an argument because who does rindou think he is, acting like this is as easy as he thinks? 

if it were that easy for ran to admit he cares, he wouldn’t let you walk alone from work to your apartment at night on this side of town just because it saves you a bit of money. if it were easy, he wouldn’t let your boss take advantage of you to work hours you don’t want to work when he could easily drop in a little threat. if it were easy, he wouldn’t let you go on a date with a smart-ass know-it-all who probably lives off trust funds and his parent’s money on a joint bank account—even if ran is a wanted criminal and isn’t much of a better option. 

but it’s not easy. and he doesn’t quite know how to tell you no one can touch you as long as he’s around, that as far as he’s concerned, no one can give you what he can as long as he’s around either—and he should be the only one that can actually stick around. 

“shit’s not that simple,” ran spits. and once again, rindou is alarmingly the voice of reason—twice now.

“could be,” he shrugs, “if you just grew a pair.” 

the man on the ground groans slightly, and ran swiftly gives his crotch a kick before walking off. 

———————————————

the date was boring. you don’t talk to the guy again.

but more importantly, ran hasn’t shown up in about three weeks. that’s twenty-one days. five hundred and four hours. a number of minutes you don’t feel like calculating—but you know the number is high, and you’re mad. 

you’re mad the first week because you brought a bunch of groceries to try a new recipe. it was good, and you think ran would really like it. you think he must be busy with whatever work a criminal does, so after waiting a while and realizing he’s not showing, you pack it up nice and tight in a little container, write his name on a sticky note, and after much contemplation, you add a small heart next to his name with a smiley face in the center. he doesn’t show, and eventually, you eat his portion for dinner before it goes bad. 

you’re mad the second week because you’ve got loads to tell him, and he’s not here to fucking listen. your boss has been promoted, which means you have a new boss, and this one is finally a reasonable one. you’ve also found out your final replaces your lowest exam score for one of your classes, and you’re thinking about saving up to buy your professor a cruise ticket for his kindness. and now that your semester is almost over, you’ll finally have a little more free time. ran needs to hear all this, and you’re increasingly irritated he’s not here to poke fun at your “mundane” joys as he grins against his glass before taking a sip. 

by the third week, you’re mad because you’re hurt. it’s apparent by now that haitani ran, the asshole who broke into your apartment and threatened to shoot you in the head, who not only got free medical services off of you but also free dinner a number of times, who made himself a part of your life against your will by incessantly tapping away at the glass of your balcony door no matter how long you try to ignore him, is avoiding you. he’s avoiding you, and it’s starting to leave an ache in your chest he never should have the opportunity to leave. and now you’re mad because not only has he hurt your feelings, but also because you’re foolish and naive and all the things he called you before for falling in love with someone like him. 

so you curse his name, wipe your tears—you refuse to admit you cried over him, so you tell yourself it’s just stress from work and school—and you sit down at your desk to do some studying. you are defining your future, even if it’s one overpriced textbook and one underpaid work shift at a time. 

but then there’s a tap at your balcony door and you almost contemplate calling the cops. but like clockwork, before you can even realize it, your feet are padding against the floor as you walk to open the door. 

“stupid fucking haitani ran,” you mutter, “doesn’t he know i’m fucking studying? and i fucking hate him?”

he has the audacity to scowl at you through the glass when you pull the curtain of your door—if you stood a chance against him, you’d have killed him by now. 

“well that only took forever,” he grunts, “hurry the fuck up, it’s cold out here.”

“you can freeze then,” you spit, crossing your arms. “because this door is staying closed,” you say firmly.

“then i’ll fuckin’ shoot the doorknob in and let myself inside, you choose,” he glares at you, and because he’s an asshole—because he always has been an asshole, he pulls out his gun. “then i won’t be so nice when i come in,” he offers you a faux grin. 

“then do it,” you raise a brow. 

for a second, he’s shocked. he didn’t think you’d actually challenge him—and you’d win this challenge of course, but still, he didn’t think you’d actually do it. 

“open this fuckin’ door, princess,” he squints his eyes at you. 

“where have you been, haitani ran?” you don’t back down. your hands are on your hips, your brows are furrowed and your lips are curled into a frown, and you’re calling him by his full name like you mean business—and it all means you’re mad at him, and he should apologize. 

but all he can really feel is a tad bit excited because that must mean you missed him. like his absence meant something to you like it meant something to him. 

he grins, you scowl deeper, and he grins a bit wider at that. 

“oh is that it?” he grins, “did you miss me, princess? is that why you’re mad? you defini—”

the door opens all too quickly, and you’re coming forward with a finger prodding at his chest accusingly as you glare at him—face to face this time with no glass separating you. 

“listen here, you asshole—”

you’re cut off by a kiss. haitani ran has the audacity to wrap his stupidly muscled arms around you, pull you flush against his stupidly firm chest, and press his stupidly soft lips to yours. and what’s worse? you let him. you let your eyes close, hands fist his shirt, and mouth mold against his. 

he kisses rough, but still like you’re fragile. he bites and sucks on your bottom lip and drinks the oxygen from your lungs, but he cups the back of your head and rubs the small of your back. he groans against your mouth and lets his tongue explore you with heated passion, but he lets out a soft sigh every time your fingers smooth through his hair. he’s everything you want—painfully so, and you hate it. 

so you kiss him deeper to forget. 

“i’m listenin’, princess,” he chuckles lowly against your mouth, nose bumping against yours as he looks you in the eyes. if you weren’t sure your eyes were just as hazy as his, you’d be proud of yourself for the way his pupils are so unfocused. “but i think you’re a bit distracted,” he grins smugly. 

he’s an asshole—has been since you met him. you don’t think that’s ever going to change at this point. 

“fuck you,” you spit. 

“you wanna?” he grins, “won’t say no,” he says as he pecks along your jaw, pressing hot, searing kisses to your neck before he nips gently at the skin, sucking into it until a small mark starts to form that makes you let out a quiet gasp. “won’t say no to you—ever,” he grunts. 

“where have you been?” you repeat, fisting his shirt tightly as he moves onto the other side of your neck. 

“you enjoy your little date?” he pulls away and looks you in the eye again, and you almost whine at the loss of his lips from your skin. instead, you notice the way he masks his hurt with a teasing grin. “did he help you study while you waited for the food?”

“he was boring,” you admit, cupping his cheek. ran presses closer against your palm, watches you carefully while it’s your turn to press gentle kisses along his jaw, how you take your time kissing the corners of his mouth before you press one soft, lingering kiss over his swollen lips. his breath hitches at that. “i don’t think he even owns a gun,” you smile, “how boring.” 

he grins at that, lets out a soft chuckle before his smile widens and the chuckle turns into a boyish little laugh, coming right from his chest that you feel vibrate against your own. 

“yeah?” he teases, “not as innocent as you seem,” he reaches behind him to close the door shut before he has you pushed onto your mattress, hovering over you with a smirk on his face. he pulls out his gun—you’ve seen it so many times before, but this time there’s no dread. it just makes you fill with excitement, excitement that pools as slick between your legs. “this thing here makes me interesting, huh?” he dangles the gun over your face. 

you nod, gasping when he chuckles and loops a finger under the waistband of your pajamas. 

“hips up, princess,” he hums, pulling the fabric down your legs as soon as you do, grinning at the way you're so wet already, making him chuckle before he presses the barrel of his gun to your head. “bet this excites you, huh?” one hand holds the gun to your temple, the other travels down to your clit, his thumb teasingly rubbing slow circles against it and making you whimper. 

you’re dripping, he can see trails of your slick glistening against the insides of your thigh, and he can feel his cock twitch at the sight alone. slowly, his fingers tease against your entrance, making you whine before your hips buck to get more of him. 

“ran, ran please,” you gasp, staring up at him with a pout on your face and his gun to your head. and you look fucking perfect. 

he groans, slips his fingers into your tight walls, and watches as your face goes slack with pleasure at the intrusion. he curls his fingers into you, letting his palm glide against your clit before angling to find your spot. you gasp before letting out a breathy whine, trying to match his rhythm with your hips before he presses the barrel of his gun harder against your skull as he stops his fingers. you whimper at the loss of movement. 

“no moving,” he growls, “you’ll take what i give, ‘kay princess?” you nod, staring up at him with wide eyes as he bullies his digits into your cunt, try your best not to move and just take it while his gun is right there against the side of your head. you close your eyes, moaning when he slams his fingers against your sweet spot, feeling the slow drag of his palm over your sensitive clit. 

he fingers you slowly, takes his sweet time and watches you writhe under him as you fight your body to keep from moving. you can’t remember the last time you’ve felt this good, the last time something has excited you this much and left you breathless from just the thought alone. you mewl when he slams against your spot over and over, and ran listens like each whine from your mouth is the note to a song you wrote just for him. you serenade and he listens, that smug grin on his face that you want to kiss off. 

“feels…oh god, feels good, ran,” you encourage, making him chuckle quietly as he rolls his thumb over your clit. you’re practically sucking his fingers in on your own, walls tight as they flutter around his digits—he can only imagine how you’d feel around his cock. but he wants to take his time with you, get to know you in and out like he has for weeks now. 

he likes the sound of your voice when you ramble over dinner, and he likes the sound of your voice when you moan on his fingers, and he thinks he’ll like the sound of your voice as you wake him up in the mornings. 

“don’t cum yet, baby,” he warns—because that’s just how ran is. he’s that sweetness you mask drugs with until you wake up with the barrel of the gun pressed to your skull, that soft glimmer in the grass of what you think is something shiny, but turns out to be the scales of a serpent waiting to sink its fangs into your skin. “you’re not cummin’ till i say so,” he hums, “gonna make sure i wipe that date from your memory.”

“p-please, ‘m gonna…’m so close—no,” you shriek, latching onto his wrist with your hands as he stills his fingers. he laughs at the way your lips wobble and your eyes tear up—and he grins all cocky at the way your walls flutter around his fingers while they’re stilled inside you. “please, ran,” you sniffle. 

“please what?” he asks like he doesn’t know. “use your words, princess.”

“please, wanna cum,” you whine, “keep going,” you roll your hips for added emphasis, and he presses his gun a little harder against your head as another warning. 

“anyone ever touch you like this?” he asks, pulling his fingers out and making you sob quietly at the loss of his fingers keeping you full. he teases over your clit, making you pant harshly as your thighs quiver. more, you need more—and he knows it too, gives you just enough that it’s not enough at all. “anyone ever make you feel like this? or get you this wet?”

“no, just you,” you insist, “no one else.”

“good,” he nods approvingly, and then his fingers slip into you once more, fucking into you hard and fast, making you throw your head back as you mewl. he tosses his gun to the side, creeps his hand up your shirt—he’s pleasantly surprised to find you’re not wearing a bra, so he squeezes and pinches at your nipple, rolling it between his fingers and watching as you squeal. 

your hips are bucking against his hand now, the wet sound of his fingers bullying in and out of your pussy filling the room before he rubs harshly at your clit again. and then you cum, hard. your back arches, and you let out a quiet sob of his name that makes his cock ache in his pants as he watches your face break with your orgasm. he leans down and kisses you, lets you whine against his mouth. he drinks in your moans like he’s thirsty, like you’re the first drop of rain after a cruel drought. 

“oh—f-fuck, ran,” you cry, spasming around his fingers before your hips fall back onto the mattress and your chest heaves with labored pants. you peer up at him as you come down from your high, and he looks down at you and meets your gaze. 

he’s quick to pull his shirt over his head, letting you take in his tattoos through hazy eyes, watching slowly as your fingers lifts to trail over the lines and dips as you map his body. he shivers a little when you trace down the middle where the pattern is cut off. 

“my brother has the other half,” he tells you quietly. you stare up at him in awe—it aches a little in his chest. 

“it’s perfect,” you hum, “you have a whole side to dedicate to me now,” you grin cheekily, pulling a warm chuckle out of him before he leans in to kiss you again. and again and again. his lips press onto yours as soon as you pull away. 

“would that make you happy?” he grins, “having your face on my chest?”

“not my face,” you scrunch your face in distaste. he grins, kisses the tip of your nose. “that’s just weird. but you should definitely get my name. big bold letters,” you wink. 

“big bold letters, huh? i’ll keep that in mind,” he muses. you giggle, and he kisses you again, humming against your mouth as you wrap your fingers around his hair and tug gently. 

you let a hand travel between your bodies, slipping past his pants to grab his cock. ran groans against your mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you smear the pre cum weeping from his tip along his length, wrapping your hand around him and stroking him a few times. he moans lowly, helping you slip his pants down his hips to fully expose his cock. 

“fuck, princess,” he pants, rutting his hips into your fist, grunting when you squeeze the tip with each upstroke of your hand. he’s thick, heavy in your hand aching for the friction. you watch his jaw clench as you pump him slowly, watch as his forehead presses against yours and strands of his purple hair fall over his face to curtain his features. he looks pretty, like he’s yours, like he climbs through your balcony and comes home to you and your arms. 

“next time i go on a date,” you mumble. he stiffens before cursing under his breath when you glide your thumb through his slit, “i wanna go with you.” 

he moans softly, pants into your neck as his face falls to the crevice by your shoulder, muffles his sounds against your skin as you drag your palm along his pulsing cock, rolling over his tip before stroking down again. his hips are bucking to chase the friction of your hand, the squelching noise of your hand pumping him and his choked grunts filling the room. 

“princess,” he groans, a hand coming on top of yours and gently forcing you to stop. you furrow your brows, but he pulls you back in for a brief kiss as he collects himself. “didn’t wanna cum yet,” he mumbles against your mouth, pressing a quick peck to the corner of your lips, “that’s for later—when i’m fillin’ you up so you know who you belong to.”

your breath hitches, and he grins when you whine his name, letting his hands squeeze your hips before he pulls your shirt over your arms and slips it off of you. he leans down, tongue rolling over your nipple, hand coming to cup your other tit and roll a thumb over the pebbled nipple so it’s not neglected. you gasp, throwing your head back as you moan, the dull ache between your legs returning as your clit throbs. he kisses between the valley of your breasts before taking the other nipple in his mouth, switching places with his hand and repeating his earlier actions until you’re tugging at his hair with a plea. 

“ran, ran please—please, i need you,” you beg, making him let out a breathy chuckle in amusement. 

“yeah? need me to fuck this pussy, baby? need me to make you cum?”

“please,” you whimper, lips pulling into another pout. ran learns two things—you like being spoiled, and he likes spoiling you rotten. because with just a simple pout and a bat of your lashes, he’s groaning before he strokes his cock a few times, lining up with your entrance.

your hips are greedy, raising up to get more of him, but he grunts and pushes you back with a warning glance, making you pout again. you both gasp with a shudder when he teases his fat tip along the slick folds of your cunt, dragging it along slowly before pushing into inch by inch. you mewl, arms flying to wrap around his neck and cling to him while he lets out a deep groan, panting at the way your walls constrict around him and all but suck him in. 

“fuck, baby. so fuckin’ tight,” he grunts, “feel so good, pretty girl.” 

“think i’m pretty?” you still have it in you to throw him a teasing remark even as he’s bottomed out, which only makes him want you more, only makes him want to come home to you every night instead of once a week—sometimes less than that.

“think you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he says instantly, “next man who tries asking you out’ll get shot in the head. swear it.”

“don’t worry,” you kiss the side of his head. he melts at the gesture, head tucking into your neck again. “only you.”

with that, he snaps his hips, pulling a soft moan from you and a choked groan from him before you’re both rolling your hips against each other. your hips snap against his, the sound of his cock slipping in and out of your wet heat and your skin slapping ringing through your ears as ran ran pants into your skin. the sound of his breathy moans makes your walls flutter around him, clit throbbing until his thumb catches it to rub slow circles. 

“g-god—ran, like that,” you squeal, making him grin against your neck, thrusting his hips sharply and kissing the head of his cock with your sweet spot. it makes you dig your nails into his shoulder blades, makes him hiss with pleasure at the slight mix of pain. 

“like that? that feels good, princess? my cock makes you feel that good? you’re fuckin’ dripping, you know,” he smirks, and if you weren’t so lost of the drag of his thick veins along your walls, you’d have been embarrassed by his words. 

“yes, yes,” you mewl, “make me feel good—so good!”

“yeah, i bet i do,” he chuckles, “pussy’s squeezin’ me in,” he teases, “i don’t even have to do anything.” he angles his hips to slam into your spot again, making your legs wrap tightly around his waist as your thighs quiver. his thumb rubs harshly against your clit and you feel tears slip past your cheeks as you tug at the roots of his hair. “fuck—you feel so good, princess. so t-tight, not gonna last long,” he pants. 

“c-close,” you cry. ran fucks you like he hasn’t committed crimes and doesn't have sins that taint his name. he fucks you like you’re an angel—like he deserves an angel, like he’s got one foot over the gates of heaven and there’s nothing to tug him back to hell. he pulls your body close and cradles it to his chest like the weight of you in his arms outweighs the weight of his crimes, like the sins of every person he’s hurt are undone with the slam of his hips into your heat. 

he fucks you like he’s loved you in this life and the last—like you’re gifted to him in this life and he promises to find you in the next. 

most of all, ran fucks you like he owes you for the healed scar on his arm, like he owes you for the warm home-cooked meals and the sweet laughs behind the rim of a cheap glass. like he owes you for the silly texts at three am and empty threats of not landing himself in jail in disguise for your worried concerns. like he owes you for the constant ache in his chest that’s replaced the vacant spot—because he loves the ache, and he loves you. 

so he groans into your skin, peels his face from the crook of your neck, and presses his lips to yours and he kisses you like he loves you. because he does. he loves you like he loves climbing through your balcony and invading your dinner plans. he loves you. 

“me too, baby,” he pants, voice lilting to a soft whine as you squeeze around his cock, pleasure burning through his spine in a slow build-up until it’s everywhere at once. “god, i love you, baby,” he rasps, the words spilling before he can even realize he’s said them. 

it’s not until you repeat them back that he realizes what he’s said. “love you too, love you too, ran. so much,” you sob. and with a few more harsh rubs of his thumb over your clit, you come undone with a loud sob, hips rising from the mattress and head tossing back against the plush of the pillow beneath you. “fuck—ran, oh god.”

“sh-shit, ‘m close,” he breathes, “g-gonna make me cum, princess.”

the fluttering of your walls as you ride out your high makes him reach his, letting out a choked grunt of your name against your mouth before he lets out a wanton moan. he cums hard, filling you up with thick ropes of his release, and you feel his cock twitch in you through each one. you whimper against him as he fucks you through his orgasm, letting him fill you up and paint your walls white before he pulls out with a shaky breath and collapses over your body. 

he blankets you with his weight, and you pull him closer like you’re tucking yourself in. it’s silent for a bit, comforting and sweet as you both linger in the bliss. 

“i’m still mad at you for avoiding me,” you whisper against his bare skin. he scoffs, wrapping his arms tighter around your figure. 

“and i’m still mad you went on a date with another man,” he grumbles. 

“so then stop being mad and take me on one yourself,” you say back with a huff.

“if you go on a date with me, it means you gotta let me start walkin’ you home after work,” he warns. you smile to yourself, elated. 

“deal.”

“and you gotta let me threaten that shitty boss of yours.”

“can’t. i got a new one,” you hum, stroking through his sweaty locks and scratching at his scalp, “this one’s nice. you’d know if you didn’t stop coming to visit.”

“i don’t wanna come to just visit,” he grunts. “you gonna give me keys to your door?”

“you’ll come every night?” you raise a brow, and he nods against your chest, pressing a soft kiss to the skin near his lips. you smile into ran’s hair, his weight in your arms and his heart in your hand. “okay, deal.”

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

#teepods.writings #thirstee! #fics. #ran x reader #ran x you #ran smut #haitani ran x reader #haitani ran x you #haitani ran smut #tr x reader #tr x you #tr smut #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #tokrev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers smut

[belonareyna]

I think Fandom just made into my head and make it cannon.

1. Because Kevin and Thea did not star TALKING until Kevin was 18. TALKING. NOT DATING. I still don't like that relationship because of the different ways they survive their trauma of being in a fucking cult (also they experience was ABSOLUTELY different, Kevin was Riko’s property, Thea was "Raven's" idk if you know what I mean)

2. Aaron, up until this day, I hadn't found ANY reference in the book to the thought. "He thought he was different to the foxes and that he didn’t belong with the "outsiders"??? He gets mad when they say he acts like Andrew (which I get), but he's not the one saying he's the "normal" twin.

3. Andrew on his meds is a dangerous person, abusive even. And Neil sees it. I know their reality is not our privileged reality, but still.

"That's not okay," Neil said, pointing at the door.

"That's nothing," Nicky said.

Neil caught his arm as Nicky passed and hauled him to a stop. "Don't let him get away with things like that."

Nicky considered him for a moment, his smile fading into something small and tired. "Oh, Neil. You're going to make this so hard on yourself. Look," he said, tugging free and turning Neil toward the door. "Andrew is a little bit crazy. Your lines are not his lines, so you can get all huff and puff when he tramps across yours, but you'll never make him understand what he did wrong. Moreover, you'll never make him care. So just stay out of his way."

"He's like this because you let him get away with it," Neil said. "You're putting all of us at risk."

"That was my fault." Nicky opened the door and waited for Neil to precede him out. "I said something I shouldn't have, and I got what I deserved."

And everyone I have read here justifies his action. I understand his actions, and where is it coming from. But justifie it? Nope

4. Kevin is not a bitch for leaving Jean. Do you know when they rescue someone from human trafficking? How they can not get back for the rest of them, because then they would be put in danger again? The same goes for here. Getting back would literally make Riko not have one but two victims again. And it's unfair to Jean, but this is nothing but the Moriyamas fault.

5. Nicky makes absolutely horrible comments & disgusting "offers." But he's not just that. He's a 20 or 21 kid who flew from his save place to a country where he almost committed suicide to fight for two 14-year-old traumatized children, so they weren't given to his good for nothing parents. He protected them the best he could.

FROM NOW ON THOUGHTS AND MY OWN HEADCANNONS

6. Andrew is a 19 traumatized child who still wants his brother. Why the fuck he's always bringing Tilda? Because he wants a reaction from Aaron. Through the series, Neil says that Aaron is quite apathetic to everything. But Tilda's dead must still burn. Why mention it when there is no need if not to get a reaction? I don't believe he just brings it to hurt Aaron.

7. Dan had no right to be angry about Kevin omitting the truth about Wymack being his father. Kevin says he was trying to convince himself that by holding the secret, he was saving David (which actually is true. Her mother died in an accident orchestrated by the Moriyamas), it was not his only reason, but it was a good reasoning.

8. Matt & Aaron should have been endgame. (If you made it though here tell me about a weird aftg couple you ship)

Justification of all of this: is 2a.m. in the morning and I have fever

#aftg #andrew minyard #aaron minyard #neil josten #kevin day #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #twinyards

[widodiangelo]

"Are you a vampire?" “Oh my god. That is not the question I thought you were going to ask.”

See, here’s the thing. Will was a smart man. He was in med school. And even with the taxing workload of school, he still loved to read. And his favorite things to read? Horror and dark folklore.

That surprised most people, but Nico found it endearing. And Will was glad, because this was one hyper-fixation he was sure he’d never get over. And so he couldn’t quite tell if he was making it up when he saw lights flicker as Nico walked by them– on more than one occasion. Or that the air felt noticeably colder when he became stressed or mad. Or that he was eerily silent when he moved, or how he hated being out in the sun for too long. 

This is all by way of saying: Will wasn’t dumb. And there were some things about his boyfriend that, when combined, created some interesting theories. 

Will totally did not think his boyfriend was a ghost. Or a vampire. Nope. Well, maybe? No.

…..

Nico stepped out of the shadows onto the soft carpet of his living room floor and promptly collapsed over his old couch with a groan, one hand still on his earpiece. “Annabeth. You said this one was a simple shade.”

“It’s not my fault someone flagged the wrong file.” Annabeth retorted.

“I’m sorry Nico!” Percy’s voice rang from Annabeth’s side of the line and Nico couldn’t help but smile at the sound of what he could only assume was Annabeth flinging a book at her boyfriend’s head. “It’s fine. Just–” Nico replied, hissing a little as he shifted and got a better look at the gash in his side. It wasn’t concerningly deep– but he should probably take care of that. “That was a little close for comfort.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just a scrape. I should go bandage it though.”

“Alright. Call if you need anything.”

“Bye.” Nico clicked his earpiece to end the call and stood up from the couch with a groan, reaching to take his hair out of its messy ponytail. He turned toward the kitchen and froze with his hand in the air. Because standing in his kitchen, holding a half eaten bowl of fruit loops, was his boyfriend, mouth open and eyes wide.

Oh shit. “Will?” Nico asked, panic rising in his throat. How much had he seen?  “Why the fuck are you here?”

Will swallowed, willing his mouth to close. “Um. I was out of fruit loops. More importantly– what was that?”

“I–” Nico started, but immediately his vision began to swim. Great. Just great. He wasn’t sure if it was from the shadow travel or from the blood loss, probably both, but either way his eyes rolled back into his head and his body swayed. Will barely had time to rush forward and keep him from smacking his head on the floor as his body went limp.

….

When Nico regained consciousness no more than a few minutes later, he was laying down on the couch and his boyfriend’s piercing blue eyes were staring at him with deep concern that was bordering on panic. Fuck. He tried to sit up with a wince, only then noticing that Will had his hands pressed on the wound at his side, trying to stop the bleeding. 

Nico studied him, honestly surprised he was still there. He didn’t look scared of him. He looked scared for him. “Dammit, Nico, what did you do? This is going to need stitches. We should go to the hospital. Or, no. I have a kit in my apartment. That would be faster–” 

Under different circumstances, Nico would have let him ramble. He loved seeing Will in doctor mode, if he was being honest. But considering he was currently bleeding out on his living room couch, other things unfortunately had to take priority. He placed a light hand on Will’s arm, stopping him short. “There’s a small brown bottle in my nightstand drawer.” He said. “Get it for me? I’d do it myself, but…” He looked pointedly at the blood dripping onto his floor.

Will looked at him like he’d grown an extra head. “Um, what?”

Nico’s mouth formed a thin line. “Just trust me, Will.”

They shared a long look before Will sighed, muttering something about him being the most stubborn person he’d ever met, but stomped toward Nico’s bedroom anyway. He returned a moment later, bottle in hand, and handed it over.

“Thank you.” Nico took the bottle and took three large gulps, swallowing roughly. The effects were almost immediate, and Will watched before his eyes as the wound began to close. It was nowhere near fully healed, but at least Nico was no longer bleeding. Will’s eyes widened. “What… is happening.”

Nico made a face as he took another swig. The taste of this stuff was never his favorite. “Unicorn drought.” He said simply, like that explained everything. He sat up with a groan, expecting his boyfriend– probably soon to be ex-boyfriend– to freak out any second now and get the fuck out of there. And probably never speak to him again.

Instead Will studied him. He looked confused and surprised, sure. But where Nico expected fear or disgust, he saw a hint of curiosity.

Will was silent for a long moment. When he finally spoke, it was absolutely not what Nico was expecting: “Are you a vampire?”

The question caught Nico completely off guard and he did something Will had rarely seen him do. He doubled over laughing. 

Will watched, frozen, as his boyfriend clutched his stomach, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes from laughing so hard. Nico gasped for breath. “Oh… oh my god. That is not the question I thought you were going to ask.”

The initial shock was starting to wear off now, and Will pinned him with an unimpressed look. “I just saw you materialize out of darkness then magically heal what looked like a stab wound in under a minute.” He responded.

Nico looked up at him through dark bangs, a sparkle in his eye. “And that says vampire to you?”

Will seemed to consider this. “Well, yes. Also, there are no mirrors in your apartment, I’ve never seen you sleep, and I think you may be allergic to sunlight.” He said, counting off each reason with a raised finger.

Nico laughed again. Clearly his horror-nerd of a boyfriend had already put a lot of thought into this. “Yeah, okay. I suppose that’s fair.” 

Will glared at him. Or, as much of a glare as the boy was capable of, which was not much. “I still haven’t heard an answer.”

Nico smiled. “No, Will. I’m not a vampire.” He didn’t elaborate.

Will raised an eyebrow. “Okay. Are you going to explain this to me, then? Or should I just keep listing things until I guess correctly?”

Nico placed his mysterious bottle on the coffee table. “That could be kinda fun.”

“Nico, I swear to god–”

“See, now we’re getting somewhere.” Nico cut him off with a smirk. He was enjoying this way too much.

Will fought the urge to punch him. Even though the unicorn… stuff seemed to have helped he didn’t think attacking his boyfriend minutes after he’d been leaking blood all over the place was a good plan. “What, god?” He asked, half joking.

His boyfriend shrugged.

Will’s eyes widened. “You’re a god?” 

Nico crossed his arms. “Styx, no. Just… half of one.” He said the last part carefully, studying Will’s reaction. “A half-blood. Half mortal. Half… not.”

The gold-haired boy sat up straighter. “Styx. That’s from Greek mythology.”

Nico smiled. “Well done, nerd boy.”

“Don’t call me that. You expect me to believe you’re half Greek god?” Will said incredulously. Part of him absolutely did not believe this. But a much larger part of him was almost giddy at the possibility.

Nico averted his gaze, his smile melting. There it was. The disbelief, the annoyance. Why had he expected anything else? “Look, if you wanna leave, I get it.” He fidgeted with his skull ring, unable to bear watching his beautiful, wonderful boyfriend realize he’d been dating a monster. 

But Will reached out a light hand and softly, gently, took his chin, lifting his gaze. “Nico. I’m not leaving. Unless you want me to?”

Nico shook his head, eyes wide. Will smiled. “Good. Because I have questions.”

Nico’s eyes flicked back and forth, looking for any hint of hesitation in his boyfriend’s eyes. He found none. He felt the tension in his shoulders relax a bit. “Shoot.”

“How exactly does this work?”

The corner of Nico’s mouth turned up a bit. Nerd. “Just like the myths. Sometimes the gods come down and have relationships with mortals. We’re the product of that.”

Will’s brow furrowed. “We?”

Nico nodded. “Yeah. The gods have a lot of kids. You remember my friends in California– Percy and Annabeth?” Will nodded. “I met them at camp: where people like us train, learn about our heritage, all that shit.” Nico paused. “Oh also my co-worker Jason.”

Will’s eyes widened. “No way.”

Nico’s smile grew. “Way.”

He could almost see the gears turning in Will’s head. “And your… godly parent is…?”

Nico tensed at that, and Will backtracked. “Sorry. Am I not supposed to ask that? You don’t have to tell me–”

“No no, it’s okay.” Nico cut him off. “Sorry it’s just… my dad’s not exactly the most popular at camp. Or on Olympus. Or anywhere, for that matter.”

Will’s gaze softened. He waited patiently for his boyfriend to continue. Nico twirled his ring. Once. Twice. He swallowed roughly before answering, his voice almost bitter. “...Hades. You know, king of the Underworld? All sunshine and rainbows? Super fun time?”

Will was silent beside him. Nico looked up from his ring, expecting to see disgust. Instead, he was met with a blinding smile. “So what you’re saying is, vampire wasn’t too far off.”

Nico’s anxiety melted away immediately and now it was his turn to look at his boyfriend like he was the crazy one. Will was something else. “That’s your reaction? Really?”

Will shrugged. “You remember who you’re talking to, right? The horror nerd?” He ran a hand through his golden curls. “I just learned my boyfriend is the prince of the Underworld. This is awesome!”

Nico let out a light laugh. “You are so weird.”

“Says the son of Hades.”

“I should not have told you this.”

Will grinned. “No going back now, death boy.”  It was then that the events of the night came rushing back to the older boy and he frowned. “Do children of Hades often come home with stab wounds? Also, how the hell did you just, appear, in your living room?”

Nico sighed. “Okay first of all, do not call me death boy.”

Will’s smile returned a smidge. “Unlikely.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “What you saw was shadow traveling. And no, I try not to get stabbed if I can avoid it.” He replied, trying for humor.

Will gave him a look, and Nico caved. “Okay, okay. Sometimes, when mortals do something dumb like a seance, they get enough pieces right that it actually works. So, Than and I have to go clean up their mess and banish whatever they conjured before anyone actually gets hurt.”

Will’s eyes widened. “Than… as in Thanatos? Holy shit.”

Nico smirked. “Not that holy, actually.”

Will actually did punch him lightly in the shoulder that time and Nico laughed. “They’re usually not that dangerous. I just went into this one unprepared. Annabeth usually gets me some research on a new case if it’s going to be something more difficult than a simple shade. Turns out this last one was more… demonic than we expected.”

Will’s eyes sparkled. “Oh my god. You’re a real life Dean Winchester.”

Nico looked at him in confusion. “Who?”

Will laughed. “Oh I have so much to teach you.” He pulled his legs up and turned to face Nico, sitting cross-legged on the couch, practically vibrating with excitement. Nico watched him fondly. “But first, I have so many more questions.”

#nico di angelo #pjo #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson #annabeth chase #jason grace #supernatural #fic prompt #solangelo #will solace

[strrvnge]

The 1

part 2

Warnings : just pure angst, cheating 

Summery: your relationship with Stephen through the years till the day you decide to suprise him for his birthday only it was him who suprised you.

You can't imagine how many times I put on Folklore while writing this.

Drowned in a blissful silence you rested your tired head on his chest, as you played with the fabric of his Tshirt while he twirled some locks of your hair around his fingers. You hadn't spoken a word since you got at his apartment, both of you too exhausted after another long shift. You were laying on the bed, some long forgotten songs playing in the backround from Stephen's playlist.

You didn't pay much attention to them however, just on the heartbeat of his heart. You and Stephen have been going out with for almost a year now. You met him through a friend on his last year in med school, he was a couple years ahead of you and arrogant yet you hit it off immediately.

Drowsiness took over you and as time passed your eyelids felt heavier making it impossible for you to keep your eyes open. Tugging him closer to you, you buried your face in the crook of his neck, before taking a deep breath, inhaling his strong cologne.

"We should really do somethjng about this sniffing habit of yours" he chuckled. Nodding you wrapped your other hand around his waist, hugging him tightly, nuzzling further into his neck His hand found its way under your tshirt that you had stole from him, slowly rubbing small circles on your back, as you gave him a few goodnight kisses on his neck.

"Oh someone's sleepy"

"Can I please spend the night here? I don't want to go back to my cold, Stephenless home", you pouted.

"Stephenless hm?" You didn't have to look to know he was smiling widely.

"Oh yes"

"You know I've been looking for that tshirt this whole week. I thought I lost it" You always loved Stephen's clothes from his sweatshirts to some bands Tshirts he so obsessively collected. They were big and warm but most importantly they smelled like him. So of course you had managed to take a little something from his wardrobe every time you spend the night there which was quite frequent.

"Well you should have asked me over sooner. Maybe then you would have found it sooner. Its not my fault you're neglectful and irresponsible"

"Irresponsible?" He scoffed his hand going down along your rib cage.

"And disorganized. Not knowing where you leave your things. Jesus I could never-" you were cut off by your giggles, as he mercilessly started tickling you.

"Stop you vile man!" You yelled immediately pulling away from his touch getting into a sitting position, glaring at him.

Annoyed by him for cruelly taking advantage of your sensitive spots you layed beside him, keeping your distance though.

"What no cuddles? Shame I could feel my arm falling asleep by now", you looked at him agry from the corner of your eye

"You suck Stephen"

"Well you swallow"

"Not because I want to", you mumbled before a stupid wide smiles appeared in both of your faces and you brusted into laughter. Stephen turned on his side to take a better look of your red by now face.

"I still dont forgive you for this bulgary of yours but I suppose you're lucky you look cute on it"

"It wouldnt be the first time. But thanks. You're kinda cute yourself…only kinda though"you said staring at the ceiling.

"Good to hear" His eyes lingered on your beautiful face, trying to memorize every little detail of it, your awfully kissable lips, your bright eyes. It was like every star in the cosmos shone through them.

He really hated that he caught himself smiling at those silly thoughts. But you were breathtaking and the only thing he could you was stare at your beauty in awe. And it wasn't just your pretty face that he liked about. It was that beautiful mind of yours too even when late at night when you thought of the silliest things known to humankind to ramble about.

"Stephen", you whispered sweetly and he hummed. "Can I tell you a secret?"

"Sure but I'm gonna tell everyone even if they don’t ask" You met his gaze and he pushed back some hair that got in your eyes.

"Ok I don't mind I guess" you looked back at the ceiling feeling your cheeks heating up."I think I like you" you said after taking a deep breath for courage. 

"Oh you like me? Good because we've been going out for a year so it could be kinda awkward if you said didn't",  he joked but stopped he noticed your worried expression "I guess I kinda like you too"

Lie. No one could simply like you in Stephen's mind. You were so amazing, so perfectly imperfect it killed him. It killed him how he couldn't simply like you like he promised himself he would do with every girl he went out with.

"No you don't understand. I really really like you…yes you can be an anenormously stubborn pain in the ass, sometimes your perfect fucking self does so well that it gets so much in your head i have to wonder how you can even put a shirt on-you know because your head gets too big- "

"Please take a breath because I think you might explode", he cut you off and you bit your inside cheek. "We can talk about it tomorrow"

"No no. What I mean is that…I think I'm falling in love with you"

Stephen stared at you not speaking word. 

"Go to sleep Y/N", he placed a kiss on the top of your head before pulling against his chest.

For one more time you drowned in silence but it felt safe.You had found a home in him. Found comfort and affection and despite never actually saying the words you knew he loved you back just as much as you loved him.

Soon years passed and from lovesick teenagers full of big dreams you grew up . Both of you got your degrees and things couldn't feel more right. All those big dreams you talked about in late midnight conversations suddenly could come true and they did. You were working in a hospital while simultaneously studying for your master and Stephen was slowly becoming that big, well accomplished neurosurgeon he always wanted.

With his first salary he took you out for dinner, somewhere fancy. You joked saying he would spoil you, and he said that was the goal, you made sure to thank him heartwarmingly somewhere private. After two months you left your tiny apartments and got one together. Nothing could ever compare with the agony and enthusiasm of those days of searching for the perfect apartment.

 Somewhere where you would decorate together without annoying roommates, making new memories in each corner of it, creating a home. And even though both of you had just started working and your income was low it didn't matter because you were living everything together.

You were there after his first surgery and treated him with ice cream and a day in the amusement park and he was there at all those nights you were exhausted, crying over your books. Then he forced you to go out walking for clean air and when you got back you studied together.

Lightning up the candles you catch a glimpse of yourself on the elevator's mirror.

God you were smiling like such an idiot.

Noticing the already wide smile reached your ears and you quickly looked away, not believing how excited you were. You've never been this happy for birthday. But this wasn't just birthday, it was Stephen's. You've been searching the internet two months ago looking for the perfect cake, something not too sweet, nor too simple or childish yet fun and nice. You had to please Stephen fucking Strange so you knew it was a challenge.

Approaching the door of your shared apartment on your tiptoes you tried your hardest to unlock the door without making noise or dropping the cake.

"Thanks for remembering" You heard him talking on the phone in the kitchen, so you closed the door behind you.

"No. No fancy party this year. I was supposed to spend the day with Y/N but out of the blue she had to replace a friend at work. So there i am all alone’’, he chuckled probably talking to some colleague of his.

You smirked again not believing how well your plan had worked. He would complain to his friend about how he was all alone and you would pop out and surprise him.

With slow and steady steps you walked to the kitchen the voices of both Stephen and the person on the phone now audible. You halted, furrows appeared on your forehead as you tried to listen closely to their conversation in hope of recognizing the person on the other line.

"Yes she has a night shift. That's, that's actually a great idea. We could go to that Chinese you've always nagged me about"

"I really had fun last Friday, Stephen" your eyes widened in realisation. Christine.

"I actually, I just wanted to say that. Last Friday was truly really great. I enjoyed myself even when that new waiter spilled wine all over your dress" You heard Christine laugh at the other line "Who would have guessed the only thing we had to do to keep up with the fun was to take it off"

Your heart skipped a beat. What?

"Just let me call Y/N to make sure she won't come home early and then you can come over" Turning around Stephen's smile dropped as he met your gaze.

Awkwardly and confused you stood in front of the kitchen's door firmly holding a box with cake against your chest. With slightly open jaw Stephen stared at you, the question of how long you had stood there torturing his mind.

He looked so guilty you hated it. A part of you believed it was just a misunderstanding, a failed joke with sexual innuendo be used Stephen, your Stephen could never, he just couldn't. But how could you believe that when he looked at you with such guilt and disappointment in his eyes?

"Stephen? Are you alright?"

Christine's voice brought you both back to reality. Looking down at the cake youve never felt before as naive and stupid as you did now. Blowing the candles you looked at him waiting to say anything, anything that would soothe your internal panic.

"No it's nothing" He said and you placed the cake on the nearest counter, your hands shaking in the process. Stephen frowned. You had brought a cake for him? You were out all afternoon pretending to be at work just to surprise him when he would miserably spend his birthday all alone. His heart started racing.

Your mouth was dry, you wanted to gulp but then your throat was burning from all the tears you held back. He didn't say anything, he truly didn't. And that hurted you more than anything.

"I have to go" he hung up not waiting for a reply and you just stared at each other.

You really wished he had done or said something. Instead he looked at you like an idiot. You deserved an explanation, you deserved him trying to apologize, say you didn't understand that your assumptions were wrong, you deserved something. Anything.

A pathetic part of you even wished he would just lie. Say it was a joke, say that you misheard, that he would never, never do such a thing to you because he loved you. The worst part was that that desperate part of you would have believed him. if it meant the dream would last a little longer, if his love would have lasted a little longer. Suddenly rage took over you.

"I can explain" He quickly said and you shut your eyes scoffing.

"There's no need" you glared at him, a bitter tone he never heard you having before.

"No, no you- , I can explain. I can. It's not what-"you raised an eyebrow waiting for him to finish his sentence "what you think it is"

Stephen bit his lower li, the realisation of how stupid he sounded hitting him.

"Well that's original" You scoffed, "It must have taken you a while coming up with that."

"Y/N" You looked away.

God why did your name have to sound so sweet when he said it?

Why did it have to be Christine? Why? Why her? From every other girl in New York it had to be the one girl he told you not to worry about. You knew you shouldn't think of her as a threat otherwise there was no reason staying with Stephen at all but you couldn't ignore how she looked at him. How she was there for him in moments you couldn't and all that time she spent with him at the hospital. There were days he had a 16 hours surgery and you didn't see him at all that day. But she did.

Holding back your tears you turned around you rushing to your bedroom. Why tonight? Why at all actually? You really wanted Stpehen to be the one. You really wished you'd never have to go through the whole phase of dating and getting to know someone else, simply because you didn't want to. No one would compare to your Stephen and even if someone did you didnt care. He wasn't your Stephen. Your smart, funny, stubborn, arrogant Stephen.

"Y/N!", you heard him yell your name but you didn't reply.

"What are you doing!?" He gawked at you as you took all your clothes out of the closet and threw them into a bag. "Stop it! Let's talk" He grabbed a T-shirt from your hands before you could put it inside the bag.

You refused to look at him, not wanting him to notice your glossy eyes. "I don't think there is anything to talk about Stephen" your voice is weak , afraid if you talk louder it would crack.

"Seriously? Aren't you going to say at least something?" he grabbed your bag from your hands forcing you to face him.

"Like what?’’ you wrapped your hand into a fist, nails digging into the skin ‘’ What do you want me to do? Cry, yell, beg for you not to leave me when you so obviously want to? I don't want to embarrass myself anymore Stephen. Or make you unhappy by forcing you to stay with me. If you don't like me why couldn’t you just say it? I would have left Stephen I really would have for you. Instead you lie and cheat’’

For one more time Stephen just stares at you. The man who always had some witty remarks was finally silent.

‘’Please don't tell me you want to cry’’ you went to grab your bag but he pulled back not letting you take it.

‘’Don’t do this’’, he whispered ‘’Please just don’t’’

‘’Of course I will’’ you said confused not understanding how he could ask you such thing ‘’Give me my bag-just give it to me!" You tried to grab it from him but he wouldn't let you.

Sighing, you took a step back and sat on the bed,knowing he wouldn't let you go that easily. He stayed silent as if he was trying to understand himself what was happening, deciding what he should do next.

"You love me you won't leave me" He said and you covered your face with your hands " I am the only good in your life,you said it"

"Well you're no good now, are you?" You helplessly whispered "Stephen I- '' taking a deep breath you stood up "I honestly don't know what went wrong with us, I really thought things were great but obviously they weren't. I don't want to talk because simply there is nothing to be said. I'm not gonna ask you to explain what made you do this nor am I going to ask you to give it another try so we can talk about it , say we will make it work and we will be happy one day. I'm not gonna say that because I simply don't believe we will. For some reason -I don't understand we can't make it work, we just can't" You stood up and walked to him, finding enough strength to look at his eyes.

"I love you. I am not gonna deny that no matter how much it hurts. But I'm not that desperate or pathetic to stay with you and you know it" Taking a last good look at him you touched his hand before taking your bag from his grip.

You really wished he would say something. Perhaps that he loved you but never did so why would he now?

Leaving your once shared bedroom you headed to the door suddenly, your eyes welling up with all the tears you tried so hard to hold back. You stopped in front of the door and looking down at the key of your apartment the realization hit you. This was the end.

Was it too late for you to run back inside the room and forgive him? You were together for many years after all. But then again the thought of him kissing you, having sex with you while in the meantime fucking Christine pained you.

Leaving the keys on a small tray you opened the door only to find Christine ready to ring the bell.

"Oh Y/N!" startled she exclaimed, all dolled up holding a bottle of red wine. Any previous sadness has suddenly turned into pure anger and disgust. Giving her the cold shoulder you rushed out of the apartment into the elevator.

But it would've been sweet

If it could've been you.

#stephen strange x reader #dr strange x reader #benedict cumberbatch #dr stephen strange #dr strange x reader smut #dr strange x you #sinister strange #sinister strange x reader

[girlsgoneplague]

Spock headcannons, don't judge me i just think he's neat

He will NEVER ask you to neglect your duties but he will often apologize for putting you in harms way, even if its not his fault

Anytime you want to watch a movie he indulges you because he can get work done while you're leaning against him (but it is hard to watch dramas they infuriate him)

If you're an Ensign your relationship is quite secret but to be honest only people close to him will notice anything is different

Once you become a lieutenant he takes you out to dinner in the mess hall, and MANY people realize you're together but its still just a rumor since no one can read his facial expressions

You don't often get in harms way, but he almost broke a PADD whenever he found out your ankle got broken while running away, he doesn't recall any other details of rhe mission only that you were nearly left behind

Theres no kissing him in public, you respect his privacy and he has never had the urge to kiss you in front of anyone because he knows that what you share is for each other to enjoy.

There have been quite a few times (after a close call) where he did hold his hand out for a vulcan kiss, and somehow it makes you blush more than when he asks you in private to kiss like humans

There have been only a few times where Kirk has attempted to tease you both, but when you got hurt and spock nearly broke multiple pieces of equipment he realized that he wouldn't get a rise out of either of you unless he did something crazy

Kirk regularly gives him advice about dates because they're in fact the bestest of friends

His dates mostly consist of legitimate quality time, playing games together, eating dinner and discussing your day, or even just reviewing particularly interesting mission logs you've went on without each other

Bones had to physically restrain Spock more than once from leaving the med bay (so he could see you) and you're the only one that can convince him to take Bones adivice

Before you dated Kirk and Bones bet on every aspect of your relationship and once Spock found out he waited 2 weeks to tell them you were together

Spock never thinks about retiring but anytime you're allowed shore leave he imagines life with you to be enough. after he's gotten too old to be with starfleet of course

And if anyone is wondering, no he will never do public sex, this is Spock and in my opinion he only does it every once in awhile because he doesn't find it as satisfying as spending time with you and making conversation.

Side note even though this is x reader Spock is for sure in love with Kirk thats just a fact

I also couldn't decide which version to use so here's both!

#spock #x reader #headcanon #non-sexual intimacy

[aerodaltonimperial]

Ship of your choice. ‘ "I think... I'm in love with (Name)" || "Congrats on being the last one to find out” ‘

(💚🖤 sorry i'm in hyperfixation mode i gotta write 5 more fics to get to #1 for both of them)

7:29 PM sure, i'll text you after i'm back as long as i don't get fuckin jumped or some shit lol

"You better not," Jack grumbles to his phone in the other locker room.

"Are you talking to yourself again?" Hook asks, without looking up.

"Darby," Jack says, while typing out a quick reply of don't fuck up your back again, we're gonna have to buy stock in IcyHot. "He thinks he's gonna get jumped again. I should probably go back to the tunnels, make sure nothing happens."

"Uh huh," Hook replies, absently. He's scrolling through Instagram. "When's the last time you did that for me?"

"You don't need it," Jack points out.

Hook looks up, unimpressed, and rolls his eyes. "LFI literally fucking knocked me out last week. You didn't even notice."

"Okay, but Lucha is probably gonna go after Darby," Jack says. "I have to be there for that, y'know? And also I noticed!"

"You noticed when I texted you about it."

"No, I knew it before then."

Hook sighs. "I had to text you, literally, hey LFI just fucking punched me in the head, do you have any ibuprofen and you ignored me for an hour."

"That wasn't my fault, Christian was taunting Darby backstage. You know how obnoxious he is. I was busy."

"Nothing even happened. Christian didn't want to damage his Gucci turtleneck."

Jack shakes his head. "But something could have. Jeez, Hook."

The expression Hook levels him with is very, very unimpressed now. Jack stares back at him, a battle of wills, until finally he says, "Don't look at me like that."

"Jack."

"Whatever you're going to say, it's not a thing."

"I invited you to New York last week and you said, and I quote, 'haha I'm busy all week'."

"I was busy all week, I was in Atlan—"

"I tried to get you to come out to dinner with me and a remarkably good-looking group of single women, and you said, 'No, Hook, I don't feel like Thai food'."

"Okay, well I didn't."

"We were going for Mexican."

Jack groans. "I had other plans!"

"I know you did," Hook says, waving his phone. "I know, because you always have other plans. I try to get you to do a Starbucks run, and you'd rather have shitty gas station coffee en route to the local skate park. I asked you if you wanted to be super impulsive and go to London for a few days, and you told me you had to check with someone else first, and then, by the way, you never got back to me. I asked if you were going to Caleb the med staffer's wedding, and you told you that you already have a plus one, which wasn't even what I fucking asked."

"Hook, okay, so I've been maybe a little bit distant, but I'm not—"

"Jack," Hook says, with the sort of infinite patience that Jack knows he'll pay for later, "when is the last time you went on a date?"

Jack stares at him. Stares, and stares, and stares, and then says, "No."

"Yes," Hook replies, eyebrows hiked.

"That's not..."

Hook spreads his hands wide, his left hand still holding his phone.

"No, Hook, I'm not..." Jack trails off. Stops. His stomach drops low as his veins turn to ice. "Oh my god. Oh my god. I'm... oh my god, I think I'm in love with Darby."

"No shit," Hook snorts. "Congrats on being the last one to find out."

"Holy shit." Jack can't breathe. "Do you... do you think everyone knows?"

"Yes," Hook says.

Jack's vision blurs a little at the sides. "Do you think Darby knows?"

"Yes," Hook repeats.

"OH MY GOD," Jack says, quite reasonably and measured. "WHAT DO I DO."

"He's just waiting for you to make a move, dude," Hook says, and goes back to scrolling on his phone as though Jack's life has not just fundamentally imploded. "So... you should probably do that. Like, maybe immediately. Mostly so you can stop lying to yourself and being so annoying about it."

"WHAT," Jack replies, a picture of serenity.

"Just, like, I dunno, find a closet or something? Or the rafters? Somewhere where I don't have to see you shove your tongue down his throat. As a courtesy. To my delicate eyeballs."

He then ignores Jack's ten consecutive panic attacks, which, honestly, is really just the worst.

#tag so you don't lose this shit

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Well, would you look at that. I miscalculated. Okay, now there'll be only one more chapter to finish this bit off. Again, not sorry, though. There’s some serious cuteness with Wrecker in this one that I felt like my earlier writing with him just didn’t quite capture.

Also, this chapter deals briefly (it'll be more prominent in the next one) with some heavy subject matter regarding SA and victim blaming. There’s a happy ending coming, but far too often that’s not the case. Friendly reminder that being attacked is never your fault, and asking for help is the bravest, hardest thing to do, but it’s so, so important. Be kind to yourselves.

Febuwhump Day 2 Ch 3 - continuation to Flinching

Flinching – Med OC&TBB

Warnings: Reference to attempted SA, reference to physical assault, reference to victim blaming - aside from a couple paragraphs here and there, this one's much fluffier than the others

WC: 2,629

It was a strange thing. The cot in the medbay was no different from the ones in the bunk room: same too-thin mattress, same flat, unsupportive pillow, same scratchy blanket, but there was still that unshakable sense of ‘this isn’t my bed’ teasing those very first hints of awareness slowly dragging me from the edge of sleep. Something about that subconscious understanding seemed to make me even more reluctant to wake, savoring those fleeting moments of comfort from the gentle intimacy of feeling safe enough for this ultimate show of vulnerability to another.

Because I did feel safe. Nestled in those military issue sheets rich with that familiar scent of someone I could so nearly remember even in the haze of sleep, I felt no lingering fear of who else might be nearby, no dread of being found unprepared nor worry that there was some terrible danger lurking just beyond closed eyelids. Still, there was something… some quiet sound easing me from that treasured safety… a voice whispering my name.

“…hmm.” The nearly whimpered grumble caught in my throat before noting the feeling of that warm touch carefully shifting against my shoulder.

“I know, but you’ve got to get up.” I knew that deep, smoky voice, mind seamlessly matching it to the comforting scent surrounding me, and that moment of recognition was enough to rid me of any nagging need to respond. He was safe, and he was near me, so there was nothing worth worrying over enough to even bother opening my eyes.

“Come on, Doc; need you to wake up.” My body rocked softly beneath the gentle movement of his hand, succeeding only in drawing the beginnings of a frown to my face, knees tucking absently to my chest as though I might hide from him with such a minimal gesture, but the movement came up short, blocked by something warm. My eyes opened just enough to confirm Hunter was sitting on the edge of the bed mere inches away from me.

The shuffle of limbs was a subconscious thing, body shifting forward beneath that driving need for closeness. Arms unfolding from where they’d been tucked against my chest, I vaguely felt myself reach for him, hands slipping around his waist with just enough force to drag me against him, torso absently curling around his hips before letting my head sink back down with a contented huff of breath. The nearby sounds of barely restrained laughter were a distant concern, unimportant as I eagerly felt myself drifting again.

“Doc,” Even his voice lit beneath a breathy chuckle, stealing himself for a moment before shaking me with slightly more force. A frustrated moan broke through drawn lips, arms tightening stubbornly before forcing my eyes into a reluctant squint.

“H’nter… hmm?” The nearly senseless mumble earned fresh snickers that helped pull me closer toward some degree of true awareness.

“We’re almost to Kamino. Figured you’d want to get dressed.”

“K’mino?” Confusion dripped from uncooperative lips. Kamino should still be a full day and a half out.

“Mhmm – you were pretty out of it for a while.” He replied, humor softening the teasing lilt of his voice. Finally, my mind began to catch up to what lay before me: to the tautness of his lips as he tried to fight back a grin at how I clung to him; to the less restrained smiles on Wrecker and Echo’s faces where they stood leaning against Tech’s bunk; the slight hitch to Crosshair’s brow as he watched with that silent judgement that would have brought a deep blush to anyone with even a fleeting breadth of shame to be found for such things, but I merely let out a quiet groan, arms slipping carelessly from Hunter’s waist as I rolled begrudgingly onto my back.

“Kriff… ‘m sorry; didn’t mean to hog your bed.” His hand shifted to rest lightly in my hair before musing it just long enough to earn a heatless glare from me.

“As soon as Echo suggested it, I knew I wasn’t getting it back this trip – it’s fine.” He dismissed lightly. Arms stretching over my head, I arched my back with a deep, leisurely inhale, willing away some of that lingering drowsiness from the limbs.

“How long before we land?” There was still a slight mumble to my words, but only just.

“Long enough to clean up if you’re quick.” He replied as he pushed himself off the bed. A sigh escaped me with the weight of what those words really meant. Just a few fleeting moments before I had to report that Master-Sergeant to the proper channels – before I had to present the pictures of my body to strangers showing those sickening bruises marring skin meant only for the gentle caress of a lover. I’d have to recount each aspect of our interactions leading to his attempted assault for them to determine if I’d in any way contributed to my own suffering; if I’d unintentionally invited his advance thus somehow earning the blame and judgement more so than the man himself.

“You’ve been asleep for a while. Think you can eat something, first?” There was a deep concern underlying words that wanted to be an order. Dragging my hand roughly over my face, fingers just tangling into hopelessly disheveled hair, I shook my head, stealing one more controlled breath before answering.

“Maybe after.” I didn’t look at him as the whisper escaped me in something too close to a plea. I heard his slow sigh, and felt my teeth catch the inner flesh of my lip to keep from giving into that desire to simply sink further into his mattress in some vain hope to disappear.

“Alright.” He agreed quietly. Brows drawing together, I finally pushed myself up, legs dragging over the edge of the bed, and I tried not to notice their gazes wonder over the residual hints of sickly yellow marking flesh so near to being fully healed from the second skin of bacta I’d been lathered in. Hunter’s hand automatically settled against my shoulder blade, anticipating the way my head swam in those first few seconds.

“I’m fine.” I mumbled without looking at him, but, when I pushed myself to my feet, the way the room spun made my jaw lock against a shuttered breath, and I found myself grateful for how quickly his other hand settled around my arm. Teeth grinding as the episode slowly quelled, gaze pointedly locked on the flooring beneath us, I gave a little nod and he hesitantly released me.

“I think a couple hours in the sonic sounds like a pretty good idea.” I said through a loose smile that I knew fell frightfully short of fooling any of them. “Let me take care of washing your sheets when we land – as a thank you.” I added, glancing up to where the Sergeant still hovered nearby. The deadpan look he shot me drew a chuckle from me. It was quiet, but it was earnest, and I let it grant me some glimmer of strength as I started toward the refresher.

-

During the few times I’d found myself on Kamino with my previous squad, I’d become used to shinies ducking out of the way in a show of reverence; respect. With Clone Force 99, they still shuffled out of the way, but it was from a resentful fear instead of the awe the elite commandos surrounding me deserved, and I couldn’t help the distain I felt from each sneered glare as we passed by. Despite their claims that such things no longer bothered them, those men were supposed to be their brothers. I don’t think I’d ever find myself truly believing that such mistreatment could ever be overlooked.

In that moment, however, I knew that the passing stares meant nothing to Hunter or the others, marching strides moving with dangerous intent as they escorted me through the maze of hallways. They’d fallen into the defensive pattern so naturally, I’d barely noticed until seeing a flash of confusion in the brief glance of one of the nearby regs. It felt like I was headed to my own execution, dread redoubling with each step. I hated it – hated the anxiety that sent my heart racing; hated the darkness drowning us in that wretched silence; hated the expectation that this was the appropriate emotion given what had happened, and I eagerly leaned into any whisper of blatant rebellion from that norm that I could find.

“You guys wanna lighten up a bit? Someone’s going to think you’re taking me to the brig.” Hunter glanced over his shoulder, almost surprised to find the textbook formation surrounding me. The way his helmet tilted forward held an abashed hesitation before consciously loosening his shoulders and falling back to walk beside me instead.

“Beware the dangerous medic-gone-rogue formerly of the elite Clone Force 99, whose devious plot to overthrow the GAR was discovered in the nick of time by the squad’s own brilliant pilot, Tech. After a grizzly battle full of death-defying feats, the evil medic was successfully subdued and brought to a swift justice.” The others stopped halfway through the overplayed narration, and even those emotionless buckets couldn’t hide the matching, deadpan looks. The teasing chuckle just picked up by my mic was the perfect balm for the tension reverberating between them.

“If Tech gets to be the one who found yuh out, I wanna be the one to bring yuh in!” Wrecker suddenly added, and I had barely a moment’s warning before he darted forward to throw me over his shoulder, wrenching a squeal of laughter from me.

“No! You can be my secret partner! No one would expect it!” Hunter’s head dropped hopelessly into his hand as his brother gasped in excitement at my words. Needing no further encouragement, Wrecker hoisted me up to sit hazardously atop his shoulder, and I had to cling to his helmet to keep from falling backwards until he locked a hand around my shins to steady me, body seizing in barely silenced giggles.

“Join us, Echo! They’d be no match with you by our side!” I called, hands motioning eagerly toward him, but he merely stared at me with the same exasperation as Hunter.

“We’d be unstoppable!” Wrecker goaded, but I’d already turned my attention to the final member, letting myself fall back to drape down the massive clone’s shoulder to face Crosshair. The sharp set of his shoulders and slight tilt of his bucket was all the answer I needed.

“Wrecker, I… I don’t think we can count of Crosshair joining us, either.” The façade of sorrow was lost amidst the relentless laughter breaking my words.

“Enough, you two.” Hunter nearly groaned. Still laughing, I tried to pull myself upright, but, between the still present ache and uncontrollable giggles, I only made it halfway before collapsing again.

“I… I can’t.” I admitted, beaming smile still evident in the words. The force of Crosshair’s helm falling against his gloved palm gave a notable click before he stepped forward and, hand slipping quickly beneath my back, shoved me upright so Wrecker could help me slide back down to the pristine floors.

“You done?” The Sergeant asked, but I could just catch the faintest smirk in his voice. I quickly snapped up into a salute.

“Yes, sir! All of my schemes have been unveiled, and I’ve seen the error of my ways! I ask only that all punishment befalls me, and Wrecker be spared.” He didn’t move, and I pushed my helmet up just enough to let him see the glee in my eyes and the coy smile still toying with my lips. His heavy sigh rang clearly through the comms as he turned and continued the trek through the unending halls. I shot Wrecker a toothy grin before settling my helmet back in place and following him.

What mirth my antics had brought vanished the instant we reached the final hallway, body coming to a sharp halt. It had been easy to briefly forget the impeding trial, but, with just a few fleeting meters to go, it was suddenly far too real. The others waited in perfect silence for several seconds, but even the heavy weight of their gaze meant nothing amidst the panic threatening to burst through my chest. Echo was the first to move, treading softly to my side.

“Are you okay?” Part of me wanted to laugh at the futility in whispering over an open mic, but I couldn’t quite manage that.

“Mhm.” I hummed quickly, mind straining to control my breath lest that tremble steal through me before even reaching the door.

“It’s okay not to be.” He added, voice dropping until it was only just audible through my helm’s speakers. With a stillness, I didn’t think myself capable of in that moment, I turned to look at him, grateful for the darkness of the visor shielding him from the despair I knew filled my eyes.

“No, it’s not.” His shoulders sank at my words, “not yet,” but he said nothing more as I gently reached forward to slip my hand around his, fingers tightening for just a beat before releasing him and forcing myself to continue forward.

The door opened just before I’d reached it, and I was shocked to see the telltale orange embellished armor of Commander Cody step out before me. Without missing a beat, I quickly fell into a proper salute.

“At ease.” He dismissed quickly, attention resting on me only briefly before turning to look over the squad following at my heels.

“Just her.” Those words threatened to rip that fleeting sliver of control from me, ice flooding my veins.

“What?” Hunter asked, taken aback, “No – we’re staying with her.” I couldn’t even bring myself to look at him, knowing the futility of his retort.

“Not for this.” There was a quiet apology in Cody’s voice that finally broke me, body yielding beneath the fine tremor, and I felt the slew of curses burn atop my tongue.

“Why?!” He nearly barked.

“Because you and your squad aren’t going to like what she needs to say, and this is going to be hard enough on her without you lot making it worse.” Again, I found myself mentally remarking on the uselessness of whispering into an open mic, as though that might prevent my speakers from repeating his words even as they rang clearly through everyone else’s, and I scowled at the simple knowledge that I was fixating on that because it was safer than trying to come to terms with the fact that I would be facing this nightmare alone. The Commander remained perfectly still; attention locked on the seething man behind me.

“Hunter, I’ll be here the entire time… Nothing’s going to happen to her.” There was no point to dragging this out, but I knew what haunted even the thought of us being apart so soon after what that man had done, and I needed to do something to at least try to make this easier on them. I couldn’t bring myself to speak, but, turning just enough to see him, I managed to raise my hand to settle lightly around Hunter’s arm. He let his gaze fall almost reluctantly to watch my head bob in a small nod, and I felt him deflate beneath touch. He looked pointedly to the commander for several tense seconds before turning to me once more.

“We’ll be in the barracks when you’re done.” He whispered, and the regret in his words threatened to ruin me. With a final nod, I let my hand fall back to my side.

“I’ll escort her myself.” Cody promised before guiding me those final steps to the door.

Next Chapter

Amazing fanart by @mythical-illustrator

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Taglist: @arctrooper69 @ct-0113 @padawancat97 @eclec-tech @the-clone-zone

#star wars #tbb #the bad batch #star wars echo #the bad batch echo #febuwhump2023 #febuwhump #comfort #tbb echo #my writing #arc trooper echo #attempted sa #star wars hunter #star wars wrecker #star wars crosshair #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb wrecker #tcw #tcw cody #commander cody #fluff

[professional-benaddict]

my part 16🖤

part 15 in the reblog by @winterspiderpurrs 🥰🥰

“Really, how many years?”

“Almost 8? I had to quite because school became too demanding. Plus, they added more classes as we got older, so I couldn’t do well in school and dance at the same time. So, I had to quit dancing. My aunt pressured me into it.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have become a nurse otherwise.”

“Exactly.” Peter smiles softly.

The nurse has been telling Stephen about his dancing as a child and teenager, but he made sure to keep his voice down as not to disturb Tony. The man had fallen asleep in his bed, with his arm over his waist. Peter found it quite endearing.

“Well, I should get to bed too. If you want, Steve and I can drag him to his own bed.” Stephen says.

“No, no, I don’t mind. He can stay here. Would be a shame to rile him up again.” Peter chuckles lightly.

Stephen nods with a smile, wishing Peter a good night before heading out of the room. Peter falls asleep sometime later, after one he guesses to be Rogue has joined them in the bed.

Morning comes around with bright sunshine and Peter wakes up before his usual alarm on his phone. Looking at his right, Peter only finds Rogue and Diablo in bed with him, and no Tony.

The nurse gets ready for the day, taking a quick shower and finding fresh clothes to wear. In the mirror, he pauses and looks at his neck. There’s visible marks from the fingertips around his throat, and it feels sore and tender, but nothing that will stop him from going about his day. At the last minute, Peter finds one of his turtleneck sweaters and puts it on. When he leaves the bedroom, the two Dobermans follow him protectively.

The only person Peter can find in the house is Stephen in the kitchen. He’s preparing a tall travel mug of coffee. They exchange morning greetings and Stephen wants to look at Peter’s throat, but the nurse waves him off.

“It’s fine. Where’s Tony?”

“He went for a swim with Bucky and Steve. I told them to keep him from actually swimming. He can sit in the pool for starters. I think he feels shitty from last night, and not just emotionally.”

The nurse pauses. He knows Stephen is referring to something else. An elephant in the room.

“Does- does Tony use any narcotics?” Peter glances up at the doctor before looking away again. “I should know, for medical reasons. Since I’m caring for him.”

“You don’t need to. I already know and took it into consideration when I made a pain medication plan for him. You’re just giving the doses.”

Peter feels like he’s been put in place and he nods without looking at Stephen. But, then the doctor adds.

“But, yes. He does. It’s managed though. Except for last night. He promised me he wouldn’t take anything during his recovery, but it seemed like he did last night. My guess is that whatever he took made him aggressive because of how it reacted to the pain meds he’s on.”

The nurse is not agreeing completely, but he nods his head nonetheless. Stephen is his boss after all.

“But, it was still not your fault what happened last night. You did everything you were supposed to.” Stephen assures. “Who knows, I’d probably do the same if I mixed up some pills.”

“But- but, you’d never, right? You’re a doctor, you know what narcotics do. It’s never any good.” Peter says.

“Oh, Peter… How do you think surgeons like us get through 8, 10, 12 hour surgeries? Day in and day out?” The doctor chuckles. He grabs his travel mug and pats Peter on his shoulder. “Why don’t you join the others in the pool, yeah?”

And with that, Stephen heads out of the kitchen to go to work, leaving Peter’s worldview very much shattered into pieces.

#my prompts #starkerstrange

[evilwriter37]

I would love to hear more of your Vigcup ideas! Maybe even some Vigcup brat taming scenarios. I got severely sunburnt yesterday because of a stupid decision. This would make me feel so much better.

Oh my gosh, I am so sorry I’m getting to this late. I’m so sorry about your sunburn! I burn incredibly easily and badly because of some meds I’m on, so I completely get it. I hope that heals soon. Ouch!

And hm… I’ve written quite a lot of my Vigcup ideas.

Though I love the idea of Viggo introducing Hiccup to kink, I also like the idea of Hiccup already knowing about kink and what he likes when he comes into the relationship. He leads Viggo on into thinking he’s inexperienced and innocent, and reveals at some point during a scene or play that he actually understands this and understands his own masochism. Viggo is taken aback, but also quite pleased to have a sub who knows what’s up from the start. That means he can escalate what kinds of things they do much faster than “starting from scratch”, so to speak.

Another idea that’s growing on me is Viggo allowing Hiccup to tie him up and ride him. It would be super gentle and more like lovemaking than anything else. Viggo has never trusted anyone with this before, as he wants to be the one in control. I really do think Viggo likes control to a fault while doing anything sexual, so this idea is just enticing to me.

As for brat taming? I do love Hiccup having Viggo wrapped around his little finger with that, but I also adore the idea of Viggo very sincerely taming him after Hiccup does something against their usual set rules in bed or a scene. It’s genuine punishment. There is aftercare in this scenario, of course, and Hiccup is a little humiliated coming out the other side of this, but it worked. Gotta teach your brats some respect! (I can see he and Viggo talking it out in this kind of thing if it really does bother Hiccup, especially since it’s consensual here.)

Thanks for asking! This was fun to think about!

#asks #vigcup #nsft #writing ideas

[artsy0wl]

Don’t You Ever Think You Are a Burden (Logurt/WolverinexNightcrawler)

So I thought I’d share a few of my X-Men AO3 fics on here. Some gen fics, some ship fic. All X-Men that are usually Kurt focused.

This one is a Logurt (LoganxKurt Wagner, WoverinexNightcrawler) where one near drowning causes Logan to contemplate his feelings for Kurt and why this instance pulled at his heartstrings more.

A harsh, water filled cough escaped Kurt as he gagged out water. Rolling onto his hands and knees, he continued to hack away in an attempt to empty out his lungs. Breathes took several deep inhales in an attempt to calm down as Kurt's body strained and shook. Fear, panic, and confusion made a mess of Kurt's brain, refusing to let him process what happened.

A strong hand gently sat on his back running around in circles to comfort him. It gave Kurt something to focus on. Even if it was just barely. Kurt leaned into the contact, feeling a bit more at ease. Unfortunately, not for long.

Kurt's body gave out, too stressed by the abrupt awakening. He could feel himself being rolled around onto his back as yellow eyes started getting foggy. The last thing Kurt would remember before losing consciousness was being lifted up bridal style as Logan looked at him with anxious blue eyes. And though his hearing was muffled, he could have sworn that he heard Logan telling him that everything was going to be okay.

~

Logan refused to leave Kurt's side. He was instantly brought to the med bay for observation. And though he was expected to make a speedy recovery, Kurt was bedbound until further notice. He needed the rest. Having nearly drowned thanks to his foot getting tangled in seaweed while saving a young scuba diver, getting oxygen and rest was the best medicine.

Listening to the small beeps of Kurt's machinery, Logan watched as Kurt breathed. Cold hands firmly held onto a three digited hand, periodically feeling veins thumping along to Kurt's heart rhythm.

"You don't have to be attached to his hip." Hank noted. "He's going to be okay."

Silence was all the medically proficient mutant got as Logan's hold tightened. Scanning the Canadian, Hank noted the dark circles starting to form under Logan's eyes. And from what he recalled, he hadn't seen Logan eat much since they got back.

"You need sleep." Hank advised. "He's not going anywhere."

"He nearly drowned Hank." Logan coldly reminded.

"I know."

"He could have died."

"But he didn't. And let's not forget, he saved that young boy's life."

Logan said nothing. Not because he thought that Hank was wrong, or that saving the scuba diver should have died, but because of the man in front of them. An aching feeling sank Logan's heart and a dark cloud fogged his mind.

"At least try to eat." Hank advised, noting that he wasn't going to change the man's mind anytime soon as he excused himself.

In the silent wake of Hank's exit, Logan felt lost. He always worried about Kurt. As his friend, and knowing what the blue mutant had gone through, Logan always looked out for him. People could be cruel, yet Logan never wanted him to hide his true self. He knew Kurt had troubles with family, but wanted him to know that he didn't need blood to have it when he had the X-Men. As his friend, Logan wanted what was best for him and couldn't help but worry about the external forces out to get him.

But now, Logan's worries felt like more than just friendly concerns. It fell deeper now. Watching Kurt dive down and not resurface for several minutes after the Scuba diver did brought out the worse case of panic in Logan. And seeing him almost frozen in place like a corpse on ice scared Logan.

Kurt was strong. Heroic to a fault. Logan never wanted to strip Kurt of that, but seeing him almost die was horrifying. It didn't just terrify him that he almost lost a friend. It felt like a part of his heart was almost ripped out of his chest, and he couldn't quite grasp why. Locking onto Kurt, one of Logan's hands brushed through blackish indigo hair. It caused an unconscious reaction as Kurt's face melted into the hand, causing Logan's heart to skip a beat.

Logan's mind fell onto one question: Out of all the times he had seen Kurt hurt, why was he feeling so strange about it now?

~

Kurt was released two days after his hospitalization. As such, he was allowed to freely roam the halls of the school. Provided he took it easy for a few more days.

The only problem was Logan. The once bedside latched Canadian had all but disappeared. It felt odd. Sure, Logan was distant with most people on most days, but he alway liked to check in with Kurt. Maybe go to the bar, which Kurt hs presently been barred from while he recuperates, or train in the danger room.

The distance had gotten so apparent that Kurt could have swore he was avoiding him. One of the few times Kurt spotted him, he noted Logan distancing himself from the fuzzy blue mutant. It made Kurt wonder if he had done something wrong.

~

He knew he shouldn’t be avoiding Kurt, but he felt like he had to in order to collect himself. He wanted to know why he was feeling so peculiar towards the elf. He needed time to process it and try to find out what he was feeling.

But now, his guilt for abandoning Kurt was high, and he knew he shouldn’t avoid him any longer. As he travelled down the halls, Logan caught a glimpse of a conversation. Upon further observation, it was Kurt and Kitty. Logan stood by the wall’s edge, not wanting to interrupt the conversation.

”What was it like?” Kitty inquired. “Was it like in the movies where air bubbles are all over the place and your panicking?”

”Sort of.” Kurt awkwardly confirmed. “I was certainly panicking, but I don’t think there were that many air bubbles.”

”Why didn’t you teleport?” Her question was a reasonable one. “Surely that would have saved you.”

There was a stagnant pause. Logan was curious as well. Surely Kurt would have ‘ported to safety.

“I was in such a panic that I couldn’t focus on it. My leg was caught and that’s all I could think about. I was already losing oxygen, so even if I did teleport, I could have risked uncertain amounts of damage.”

His reasoning also made sense. If someone is in a panic, the mind may become burry and scared.

”You know, Logan was relly worried about you.” Kitty stated. “He didn’t leave your side once during your stay in the medical bay.”

Another stagnant pause. Though he wasn’t looking directly at the duo, Logan could sense a subtle change in the air. Limbs shifted, crossing as one hand covered Kurt’s mouth. His eyes seemed thankful, but the were sad.

”That’s why he’s avoiding me, isn’t it?” Kurt sighed. “I must have been such a burden to him that he cant stand to be near me.”

Logan swore he heard a saddened sigh escape Kurt. Guilt sank into the Canadian like hot coal on ice. He knew his avoidance might not have been wise, but he didn’t want Kurt thinking he was a burden.

”No.” Kitty gasped. “He’s your friend.”

“Then why does he run from me?” Kurt asked, letting out a whimper.

There was no time to react before Kurt found himself thrown over a shoulder. And it wasn’t until he felt movement that he realized who grabbed him. Logan shot Kitty a glance confirming that he had this handled, to which she nodded, a little concerned, but understood that he needed to talk to Kurt.

~

Kurt was tossed on the bed unceremoniously as Logan shut the door. The blue mutant flopped around for a moment before sitting up. Once he did, Logan was leaning over him, hands clamping to the sides of his face.

”Logan, what are you doing?” Kurt shakily asked, not knowing if he should be afraid or not.

There was no time to get an answer before warm, smoke scented lips collided with Kurt’s. Golden eyes widened in shock and a deep purple tint heated Kurt’s cheeks. Nothing and no one moved, as passion absorbed the duo.

Upon release, Kurt took a deep breathe. His once alarmed expression now one of unexpected awe. Golden eyes locked with blue ones as callous hands continued to hold onto Kurt’s face.

”Don’t you ever think you’re a burden, Elf.” Logan requested. “You never were one, and I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.” A softer kiss landed on Kurt’s forehead. “I was just so scared after you nearly drowned. More so than I have ever been since the day we met. You’re strong, saintly, and smart, but when I saw you limp, it felt like I was hit by a train. I was so confused and worried, and I didn’t know why.” Hands moved to Kurt’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “I love you Kurt Wagner. I love you, you fuzzy elf.”

Speechless, Kurt processed everything Logan just told him. It was a relief to know that he wasn’t a burden to Logan, but he hadn’t expected the confession. It certainly put things into perspective for Kurt. Not only that, but it got him to realize something himself. In all of the years that they knew each other, Kurt would be lying if he said he wasn’t fond of Logan. Fondness that, as of late, felt less platonic, and more affectionate. Shuffling back slightly, he looked at Logan.

”I love you too, you oversized teddy bear.” Kurt replied.

This time, it was Logan who was speechless, giving Kurt just enough time to steal a soft kiss of his own. When Logan relaxed, he returned it with a subtle amount of passion. Breaking apart felt lonesome, but both needed to breathe. Logan finally got himself situated, sitting next to Kurt.

“It feels nice.” Logan mused, holding Kurt’s hand. “Knowing what I’m feeling and that it’s mutual. I’d never want you to force you.”

”I know.” Kurt figured, resting his head on Logan’s shoulder. “And you’re not. We’ve always been the odd couple. In friendship and now in romance. Not that I’m complaining. It’s… nice.”

Though putting it mildly, nice summed it up perfectly. That said, without uttering a word, they both knew it would take time to get used to this new chapter in their story, and they knew it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. However, neither regret it in this moment, and both knew this was only the beginning.

#au #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #kurt wagner #nightcrawler #xmen #logan #logan howlett #wolverine #wolverine xmen #logurt #logan x kurt #nightwolves #ship fic #wolverine x nightcrawler #comfort

[stormblessed95]

Hi Storm! It might seem a shady question, but it's just curiosity: have you ever disapproved of something the boys did or said, or felt that something wasn't exactly your cup of tea?

I'm thinking about the fact that even between the closest and most affectionate friends disagreements can happen, and that it can happen also with idols, actors etc; I'm thinking about the recent declarations of Jackson Wang, and on a more personal note of a disagreement I had with one of my best friends. It never happens, and then it happens, and I was wondering if you ever felt like this towards BTS, since I think you have a cool and rational perspective on things and you aren't one of those fans that follow blindly their myths.

Personally, I don't have any issues with BTS, and even if I think about some wrong stuff like the misogynistic lyrics Namjoon wrote when he was very young, I also think about his mature and responsible reaction, and how he addressed clearly the issue for what it was without trying to sweep it under the rug. He held himself accountable, a thing that can be hard, so it was worthy of respect in my opinion.

About what is or isn't my cup of tea, I think I feel less of a connection with Taehyung, but this doesn't mean I don't find him quite funny, or adorable or smart, at times. It just means I feel less drawn to him and more towards other members. I think it means he's not my bias? I still don't really use the terminology 😅

I made these two examples in hope you see this question as sincere and not as a provocative one: I adore BTS, I just think they're humans and deserving to be treated as such.

Hi, BTS are humans and they are not infallible. Of course that's okay to talk about, as long as the conversation is respectful, which you have been and I appreciate. Yes, there have definitely been things they've done that I haven't liked. Most honestly that I think they've grown and learned from though honestly too. Because they are geniunely good people.

In their early years, they did have some issues with cultural appropriation with their use of black culture in, probably an effort to be more hip hop, but just ended up being inappropriate. As well as some issues with cultural appropriation for Native American Cultures as well. Some hairstyles they (all) did, using AAVE a few times in an earlier interview in not a great way, some not great comments about not wanting to be "too tan." And honestly, mostly after 2015, they grew up a lot and things got better and they seemed to learn. There haven't really been any similar type issues that I know of and they are in general, much more sensitive and culturally aware. Especially considering the world wide stage they now stand on. And while I fully appreciate their growth and respect it, doesn't make me not cringe and some old photos of theirs at times too. (Although there also isn't as many instances as antis like to pretend there are) But it's not an issue for them currently. And Namjoon even apologized for his past actions in cultural appropriation during an interview before too and made a log video with an apology later as well too. A very sincere one. Similar to his apology for any participation he had in misogyny with his lyrics. Fully owning up to it and growing.

I also, and this is the only one that is still something that is hard for me sometimes, hate how entrenched they are in diet culture. And I know a lot of that has to do with how they were raised and probably lowkey traumatized in the kpop industry where that is a HUGE deal. But while they are professionals, and they do have staff and med staff and trainers with them to help make these sometimes unhealthy choices to be healthier. They do have a lot of people who look up to them and I sometimes wish they would be able to help preach a healthier relationship/mindset with food and with body positivity towards themselves. I do think they have gotten BETTER about this, but it's still prevalent. I don't necessarily fault them for it at all either. Because it's an industry thing and self love is a continuous and constant journey. I actually have an ask about this topic too that I've been sitting on and trying to figure out how to best answer that and I'll get into it more then, or maybe I won't and I'll keep my answer more general. It depends on how much I think I actually have to say about it all. Lol I'm not REALLY wanting to open these topics up for debate or discussion really as I don't think there is anything that can be added here and be a productive conversation.

The misogyny issues brought up were never ones I personally found offensive, but that's just me and I know other people can feel differently about that as well. And that's okay.

Overall though, they are geniunely good people, tend to make good decisions, and geniunely care about people, the world, their fans, each other, etc. I trust them, I also trust them to make good decisions for themselves and those around them and as examples to the world. I trust them to learn and grow from any mistakes. And I trust them to do what's right for them and trust in them as good hearted people, because they really are. Hopefully that all makes sense and this is taken and received well, as I mean it to be. Love them all so dearly. And love yall. Thanks for the ask 💜

[hum--hallelujah]

ok @caffeineecold Suitehearts thoughts (with only a small helping of Kobra bc I'm still kinda thinking all those dynamics out... soz)

ok so in my mind palace (kskfjsfk) the Suitehearts as a group are both known for 1) racing, bc of Sandman ( and on rare occasion Crab also I think) and 2) being the closest thing the Zones have to like... an ambulance. bc in my headcanon I kinda strayed away from the TV show thing (sorry) EXCEPT that that's where Benzedrine took his name from. bc he was a final-year med resident in the City and got mixed up in an experimental thing that went wrong and kinda just... really really messed up his head for a long time. like even years after he still has affects of it (brain fog, really bad dissociation, stuff like that) but when he first ran for the Zones it was like. REALLY BAD. he was really effed up. luckily for him (and eventually, jokingly, maybe unluckily too lol) he was found by this weird loner kid who called himself Mr. Sandman. Benzedrine thought of him as "the boy with two mouths" for A While after they met even though he Knew Sandman's name, it just... wouldn't quite click at first

(and actually as a matter of fact my version of Benzedrine has a lot of issues regarding names in general, especially his own bc he still feels connected to his City name and who he was before and feels weirdly disassociated with his Killjoy/chosen name sometimes, even though he specifically chose that name bc it's still similar to his City name. it's weird. his brain is weird about names, let's leave it at that)

Sandman kinda showed Benzedrine the ropes and how Zone life works, which was great for both of them because 1) Benze woulda frickin died on his own, and 2) Sandman at this point didn't really have any close friends. I'm thinking he knew Kobra and the Four at this point from the crashtrack but that's always been a little bit different, Sandman chose to be a lone wolf but racetrack friendships/truce/whatever that whole thing is are still different than having a crew to call your own, yknow?

so at this point, Sandman basically is his own mechanic. he thinks all his friends are dead. last he heard, his best friend growing up had been caught and Drac'd. this makes him EXTRA pissy at the track and leads to some escalating tensions with Kobra in particular in that Sandman's response to grief is uh... basically he gets mad at the first person he can, which when Kobra beats him in a race is... yeah. you get what I'm saying. cue "freckle, freckle, what makes you so special?" and the thematic resonance of "I'm gonna leave you," because Sandman! has this massive issue! of blaming other people! for crap that's not their (or anyone's) fault! he's mad at Donnie for leaving him in the worst way possible. he's mad at the people he knew for dying. he's mad at Kobra for being effing better than him at his favorite thing in the world that he's put all of his heart into. and that turns into a heightened level of resentment and a whole lot of other issues

(which is also a whole thing bc it means the Rest of the Four AND Benzedrine have to witness/put up with this crap and ngl they're all deeply annoyed by it. this is how Benze and Jet become friends, in a loose sense of the term, because they both need someone to bitch to about their weird friends skfkdkgmsk)

anyway so. spoiler alert: Donnie isn't frickin dead. and his distant cousin, one H. Shoe Crab, nearly died saving him from BLI. Crab is mute bc of this, Donnie, once he's back in his right mind, will never forgive himself. even though it was, yknow, out of his control (idk how it works in "canon" but I'm pretending you can save people who've been Drac'd ok? ok).

there's a whole... series of events I haven't figured out yet that lead to a reunion. Sandman is over the moon about having his best friend back (and he also knew Crab, way back when, but not as well) so they very naturally and also very chaotically end up becoming a crew — which is great, bc Dr Benze has this wild idea to use his medical knowledge to help anyone in the Zones who needs it. it's kind of a space that needs filled bc most organized crews have A Medic, but usually they're just... doing their best with very limited learning and recources. an actual doctor? with training? who knows how to do the hard things like amputate a limb Properly or fight a viral infection? that's like... insane and incredible. and also a little bit puzzling to the others, but they're all 100% in after a bit of convincing. it's uh... pretty chaotic and there's definitely some crap that could be considered medical malpractice but like they're saving lives however they can and it's not like they have general anesthesia in the Zones so... yeah.

and Donnie absolutely is Sandman's mechanic once they reunite. like they used to fix old stuff up like that for funsies as little kids there's no way you're keeping them from teaming up on the track when they have the chance to. it's a large hand in Donnie's healing process honestly.

(Crab ends up as basically lowkey the nurse to Benzedrine's doctor btw. those two have an insane dynamic going on. guy with language issues + guy who speaks really sloppy Zone sign language bc he's still learning it? oh it's a mess. they're so sweet. I'm rotating them in my head)

they're also kinda the reversal of my version of the Fab Four bc in my universe Ghoul is the only one of them born in the Zones meanwhile with the Suitehearts Benze is the only one of them NOT born there. it's fun

#idk this is very messy I just wanted to. write it all out you keep asking me to say more so sjfkfnskd yeah #I'm swinging-stars btw in case you don't see the top of this blog sjfknakf this is a sideblog so I have to send asks from main :) #she speaks! #danger days #suitehearts

[dollsonmain]

I kind of feel bad for That Guy, actually.

He's refused to have insurance all this time because he thinks it's a scam.

I kind of agree. You pay in and pay in and either never need it and of course never get it back, or when you need it you have to fight with the insurance company to get them to pay for things, especially if you have atypical needs like common meds not working for you and needing alternatives. I've watched so many disabled friends struggle with their insurance to get their medical needs covered, and being disabled, unable to afford them otherwise.

I didn't realize that part of his proud "We're self-pay." statements stemmed from a lack of knowledge about the cost of healthcare. He's also always going on about having more money than he knows what to do with, but that's because he's neglected all of our medical needs, including his own, and is letting the house fall apart around us. I can only do so much to keep it together with a disabled body and no funds.

I pity him because it must have been quite the shock to go from thinking that of course he knew, his assumptions were right about what he knew, and then have the universe come along and show him that not only did he not know, but to do so in the one place that really hurts him, the one thing he really cares about: His wallet. Doubly painful that it was a lesson learned when paying for care for me; someone he sees as a burden already (he really doesn't like buying me food) and not as a person but as a tool.

Every time I've needed medical care and he's had to pay it out of pocket I've mentioned that One Big Thing and he'd wish we had insurance.

I'm sure it also stings to be constantly telling US in an angry voice that we HAVE to know things! We HAVE to know EVERYTHING, there is so much going on in life, we HAVE to know, and then get hit very hard with undeniable proof that he wasn't as knowledgeable about a subject as he thought he was.

That has to have been a hard lesson, especially having to see me being unsurprised by the expenses and able to talk about things like medical tourism, proving again that I knew more about something when he's convinced himself that of course he's smarter than me in all things. That's something I used to believe, too.

As deserved as it is, I feel bad for him having to go through that learning experience because it's hard and unpleasant.

-

I do not feel guilty for the medical bills nor do I feel guilty that he's paying them after 20+ years of emotional, sexual, and financial abuse, and me trying to convince him to get insurance for at least him and our son since he refuses to marry me because it would give me leverage and rights therefore his work insurance wouldn't cover me anyway, and to start a college fund for our son when he was born because I couldn't since he'd taken me away from my job (with really good insurance, by the way) after ignoring our contraceptive methods without my consent and got me pregnant knowing full well that I didn't want kids.

I'm sure my anger comes through even when I'm saying I pity him.

I am sorry that the cost is equating to the loss of a year's wages before taxes in the course of a few months and he absolutely hates his job. It's already been more than what he earned from selling his late father's house (split 50/50 with his sister on a derelict townhouse in Philadelphia, so about $42k earned but already $60k payed/pending) and I'm sorry about that, too.

However, I'm not at fault how much health care costs in the U.S. any more than I'm at fault for needing it.

[neurodiversebones]

so almost everyone in the squint squad has established childhood trauma (brennan, booth, sweets), what was all of their mental health like when they were younger? how did they cope? i hope you're doing alright!!!

OH i really adore this question !!! i <3 angst potential and i love these mf's sad backstories . gonna be honest, this is darker than most things i've posted before. it's mostly based on my own experiences and the experiences of a lot of my close friends- i'm gonna put a trigger warning for mention of abuse, self harm, eating disorders , substance abuse (drugs and alcohol), and suicide under the read more . please take care of yourselves !!! nothing is given graphic detail, but use your judgement and please don't read if it'll trigger you . i love you !!!

this evolved past just . their younger years and kind of became their Journeys with their mental health . i have a lot of thoughts pls ask me more about this omg :-))

i wrote so fucking much about this btw . i didn't know i had that many thoughts about this until i started writing and couldn't stop . my brain is Buzzing with angst for them .

brennan : brennan's mental health was always a little rocky, since she really struggled with loneliness in school, and didn't have many friends . as a kid, she never really understood why people didn't like her. she knew there was something different about her, but she couldn't see why people were so mean to her- the bullying lasted pretty much from the time she started school to graduation, and it was hell. a lot of adults didn't believe her or want to help her, and so she spent a lot of her childhood thinking that it was her fault she felt so alone. she didn't get to experience friendships as a kid, and despite learning being her favourite thing in the world, school was never a safe place for her.

however , once her parents left it got a Lot worse- the abandonment, and subsequent abuse she experienced in foster care, is what triggered her to develop ptsd. she was in some really bad homes- we get a few of the details in canon (like the family that locked her in the trunk of a car for breaking a dish), but there was always more. some were outright violently abusive, like that one, some were neglectful, and some, while not actively horrible, made it very clear that they didn't care much for her and she wasn't really a part of their family. she struggled with a lot of depression and hopelessness in her teen years because of this- the abuse was really difficult to deal with, and she turned to self harm and an eating disorder as a way to give herself some control over the situation. she spent almost all her time hiding away in her room studying, so between that and the constantly chaotic living situations, nobody even noticed what she was doing to herself. a social worker made her do therapy once, but she refused to speak the entire session, and continued to do so until she was allowed to quit. it hurt her, that nobody cared enough to notice that she was hurting herself, but she didn't want to ask for help because she refused to rely on anyone else after she'd already been abandoned once.

this, along with passive suicidality, followed her into adulthood, especially because she refused to address the problem or seek help. even for a good part of canon (really, up until season 6), we see her struggle with her mental health, struggling to understand the trauma she experienced as well as struggling to comprehend that even with all of that in her past, she can have positive relationships. her friendships helped her a lot though !! her friends at the jeffersonian were pretty much the first time in her life she wasn't... alone. this, along with actually finally seeking out help (therapy and meds), helped her to recover so she could finally feel Alive again (a big motivation for her was so that she could be a good mom to christine and hank <3) .

booth : we know from canon that booth has ptsd and experienced suicidal thoughts in his childhood . the trauma of the abuse from his dad fucked him up a lot- when he was a kid, he didn't really let it show, since he was in survival mode. he tried to be the best he could, be charming and happy and smart, both to avoid the abuse and to make sure nobody found out, since it was guaranteed that would make it worse. once he and jared were finally able to escape it and go live with their grandfather, it was the first time he actually let himself feel those feelings, and it was bad. his trauma manifested through anger- he wanted to hurt his dad for the torture he put them through, but he couldn't, so he took it out on himself instead. i think he struggled a lot with self harm in his youth and teen years, and continued to struggle with suicidal thoughts. he attempted, once, in highschool, but just woke up the next morning and pretended everything was fine. none of his friends ever knew he was hurting, most of them didn't even know about what he'd gone through as a kid. but his grandfather found the note in his room that day and talked to him about it when he got home, and he cried for probably the first time in years. that's what got him to finally accept help- he didn't realize how bad it was until that conversation.

another thing that was really triggering for him was alcohol- he was a football player, and all his friends were party boys. they drank a lot, and he usually avoided it. the most he ever had was a single beer, since he was terrified of losing control and being like his father. there was one time he got wasted- it was at a party, and he stumbled home that night. jared was in the kitchen, getting something to eat . booth was about 16 then, so jared was only 12 or 13. jared saw that he was drunk, and completely froze in fear, completely having a flashback. this fucked booth up- he was absolutely terrified of drinking from there on out, and was pretty much 100% sober until he was out of college.

angela : angela's mental health was pretty good until her late teen years (around 16). she had good friends, lots of hobbies, and she was really close with her dad. we don't know what happened to her mom, but i suspect it wasn't anything good- either she died when angela was young, or left. angela had some Issues with that, but it wasn't a huge deal for most of her life, since it had almost always been just her and her dad. when she was about sixteen though, things got rough- this is when her bipolar started, and it was really hard. she would cycle really rapidly in between manic and depressive episodes, and had some really terrifying mixed episodes as well (which can be really dangerous). she started getting more self destructive too- she developed an eating disorder around this time (bulimia), and started engaging in a lot of reckless behaviour that she could excuse by being a "party girl". she would binge drink, experiment with drugs, have reckless sex, etc. people worried about her, but she didn't even understand how dangerous any of it was until she hit rock bottom right at the end of her junior year. she was wildly depressed, and could barely get out of bed- her dad pulled her out of school, and she spent the last month of the school year just trying to get better. he cancelled a bunch of tour dates just to be with her and help her recover, and with a lot of help, things did start to get better.

her senior year, she didn't feel like going back to the place that had her so ill. and so she did her final year through homeschool, and spent it on the road with her dad. this was the best decision she ever made- it's where she fell in love with art, painting all the beautiful things she saw and learning to express how she was feeling through creation rather than destruction. when she goes to college the next year , she's in a MUCH more stable place and although she still struggles, she's much better at coping.

hodgins : hodgins started struggling with his mental health at a pretty young age (like, early middle school), but because of his families status, it was frowned upon to talk about. he didn't understand what was going on with him, just that he was so, so angry and sad all the time. he thought that something was wrong with him, that he was broken in some way, but he knew instinctively that it was something he wasn't supposed to talk about. he realized he was trans sometime around this age too, which really impacted his mental health- his dysphoria was really bad at this time, since there was nothing he could do about it. he had to keep his hair long, wear the "girls" uniform at school, act like a "proper lady" when his family was around. there was so much anger and sadness inside of him that he just didn't understand or know what to do with, which lead to a long battle with self harm that continued into his adulthood. his parents were aware of this, they just... wanted to ignore it until it went away.

when he was an older teenager, there was more he could do- he chopped all his hair off, which infuriated his parents, and was constantly in detention in school for refusing to wear the "proper" uniform. he wouldn't respond to his deadname, only jack, which got him in a lot of shit both in school and at home. he was already hurting himself as a way to rebel against this, but turned to drinking and drugs as another way to say "fuck you" to his family and the life he never felt like he belonged in. he fell in with a rougher crowd, since they were the only ones who understood and accepted him, and got into a bunch of trouble as a teen. he doesn't like to think back on those years. through university, he cleaned up his act a little, but really only on the outside. he was still wildly depressed, drinking, and so goddamn angry. it wasn't until he found his passion in school that he really started to care about his life- but once he found it, he realized he really did want to live. it was still really fucking hard, but he started to try to get better. he stayed mostly no-contact with his family, and started engaging in life more, trying to find hobbies and friends and have relationships that didn't revolve around just suffering and surviving together.

cam : cam grew up with a big pressure to be the perfect child placed upon her- she was the oldest daughter, and spent her whole childhood being "the smart one". she was really popular too, and from the outside looked like she had everything. but she really struggled with loneliness, and didn't feel like she fit in anywhere due to her undiagnosed autism and the pressure to constantly mask. the pressure of keeping up with her friends, of having perfect grades, of getting into the perfect school, of making her parents proud... caught up with her a lot once she was in her mid-late teen years. her eating disorder started around 15, and it offered her a huge sense of control in a world where she didn't feel like she had much- it was the easiest way to get away with hurting herself too. and it got her the approval and praise she wanted so badly- she looked like she was being healthy, and everyone praised her for how "good" she looked. it helped her fit in.

speaking of fitting in, her loneliness and the pressure to mask was really hard in highschool. sure, she had lots of friends, but she didn't feel like she connected with a single one of them. she knew there was something different about her, but she just couldn't figure out what it was. and so, she did everything in her power to try seem "normal". her friends were big party-goers, and so she would be too. she would drink... a somewhat concerning amount at parties. it was the only time she wasn't stressing about looking "right", about acting "normal". she was fun, and bubbly, and people liked her. boys liked her, her friends were too drunk to care that she was so obviously different to them, and she wasn't worried for once in her life. it doesn't help that alcohol and restrictive eating disorders is a known Really Bad Combination.

her ocd was also a big part of why she needed so much control in her life- her ocd started in childhood, around age 9. people thought she was just an anxious kid and a bit of a drama queen, but it was really scary for her. she had a lot of intrusive thoughts about the people around her getting hurt, and so her compulsions were really urgent and terrifying because she was so scared of things being her fault. in her teen years, her ocd fed into her ed a lot, but it also isolated her even further- she was so scared of being ostracized that she never enjoyed herself and . it sucked, to be the person who was always smiling but never really felt happy.

#this is over 2100 words btw . i've written essays significantly shorter than this . it's 5.5 pages double spaced . #this is so special to me though i have so many more thoughts please ask me more about any of these things #also i know i mentioned drug use and there's gonna be SOMEONE who's shitty about it so . if ur gonna demonize addicts just block me atp . #i don't wanna hear it #mental health headcanons #temperance brennan #seeley booth #angela montenegro #jack hodgins #cam saroyan #bones tv #bones tv headcanons