#(after 12 weeks passed and I had no contact)

[king0fcrows]

.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

I think the reader's response to this post is probably going to either be "That's incredibly minor" or "Holy shit YES I'M ALSO PROUD", depending on people's personal experiences with academia, but:

Today I am incredibly proud of one of my students.

In the interests of disguising identities, let's call them Ceri. Ceri is one of my third year undergrads (meaning their final year, for anyone unfamiliar with UK uni systems.) They transferred to us last year, and within two weeks I was giving them the contact info to get to Student Services and get themself screened for ADHD; they have some mental health struggles, but I clocked pretty quickly that they STRUGGLE with procrastination, and punctuality, and attending 9am lectures in particular. Naturally, as is the way of my people, it took them a further four months to remember to go to the screening. Lol. Lmao. Rofl, in fact.

But, they did it eventually! Their screening lit up like a Christmas tree at the ADHD section, and they got a free laptop and optional one week extensions and a study support worker named Claire. This has helped tremendously, and although mental health + until-then-unsupported ADHD meant their academic profile had slid sideways somewhat, with the new tools available and a couple of resits they passed the year and hit this year running.

Until, that is, the last fortnight.

Now, I take them for a Habitat Management module that has two assessments: an academic poster presentation before Christmas, and a site-specific management plan in May. Naturally this means we are at that happy point in the year for the poster presentations. I give out the briefs at the start of the year, so they've had them since October; I've also been periodically checking in with them all for weeks, to make sure they don't have any major burning questions. The poster presentation was to pick a species reintroduction project, pull the habitat feasibility study out of it, and then critique that study; Ceri chose to look at the hen harrier reintroductions proposed for the southern UK. All good.

Which brings us nicely to today! Ceri's presentation is scheduled for 2.30. At 11am-1pm, I am lecturing the first years on Biodiversity, while Ceri is learning about environmental impact assessment with a colleague I shall call Aeron. This means we are separately occupied during those same hours.

Nevertheless, Aeron messages me at about 12.

"I think Ceri needs to see you after your lecture," he writes. "They're panicking, I genuinely think they might cry. I'm worried. Are you free at 1?"

I say I am. At 1, I get lunch and sit in the common area; Ceri comes to see me. To my personal shame, imagine all of the following takes place while I stuff my face with potato.

Now: this part is going to be uncomfortably familiar to anyone who has ever tried higher education with ADHD, especially unmedicated. It certainly was for me. All I can say is, I never had the courage to take the step here that Ceri did.

"I have to confess," they said quietly, and Aeron was right, they were fighting back tears. "My mental health has been so, so bad for the last fortnight. I've left it way, way too late. I don't have anything to present."

"Nothing at all?" I asked.

"I've been researching," they said helplessly. "I found loads on the decline of the hen harrier. But it wasn't until last night that I finally found a habitat feasibility study to critique. Generally... I've been burying my head about it, and it just got later and later. I thought I should come in for Aeron's lecture, and I should at least tell you."

This part is a minor thing, right? But honestly, I remember being in the grip of that particular shame spiral. I never did manage to tell my lecturers to their faces. I just avoided. I honestly can't imagine having the courage it took them to come in and tell me this, rather than just staying home and avoiding me.

"I think..." they said hesitantly, "I know I can submit up to a week late, for a capped mark. I think I need to do that, and apply for extenuating circumstances. But then I'll have both Aeron's assignment and yours due at the same time."

Which meant they would crumble under the pressure and likely struggle to pass both; so me, being as noble and heroic as I unarguably am, stopped eating potato and said, "Let's make that plan B."

(It was good potato. I am a hero.)

So, we made plan A: I moved their timeslot to 4.30, giving them three and a half hours. The shining piece of luck in this whole thing was that this was the crunch time assignment - if it had been Aeron's, they'd have had to try and write a 3000 report in that time. But for me, all they had to write was an academic poster, and those things are light on words by design. We found them a Canva template, and then we quickly sketched out a recommended structure based on the brief: if it's habitat feasibility, look at food availability, nesting site availability, and mortality risks in the target release site. Bullet point each. Bullet point how well the study assessed each. Write a quick intro and conclusion. Take notes as you go, and present the poster itself at 4.30.

"You think I should try?" they asked doubtfully, looking like I'd just asked them to go mano-a-mano with a feral badger.

"If you run out of time, so be it," I said. "But your brain is trying to protect you from a non-existent tiger. That's why you've procrastinated - it's been horrible, and you've been shame spiralling, and your brain is trying to shield you from the negative experience; but it's the wrong type of help for this situation! So while you're sitting there working on it, hating life, every time your brain goes 'This is hopeless, I can't do it', you think right back 'Yes I can, it just sucks.' And you carry on. Good?"

"Good," they said. "I'm going to mainline coffee and hole up in the library. Enjoy your potato."

And then, of course, I had to go and watch the other students' presentations, so that was the end of me being any help at all. I spent all afternoon wondering if they were going to manage it, or if I would be getting a message at 4.25 telling me they'd failed, and would have to submit late and hope for an EC.

And Tumblrs

Tumblrs

Let me FUCKING tell you

They turned up at 4.15, fifteen minutes early, wearing a mask of grim, harrowed determination and fuelled by spite and coffee, and they pulled up that poster and started presenting and yes, okay, I'll admit their actual delivery was dramatically unpolished and yes, they forgot to include the taxanomic name for the hen harrier on the poster and yes, fine, I admit that there were more than a few awkward moments where they lost their place in their hastily scribbled notebook but LET ME FUCKING TELL YOU -

They smashed it. It was well-critiqued, it had a map, it had full citations, it had a section on the hen harrier's specific ecology and role in the ecosystem, it had notes on their specific conservation measures. They described case studies they'd read about elsewhere. They answered the questions we threw at them with competence and depth. There was analysis. All that background research they'd done came right to the fore. They were even within the time limit by 15 seconds.

You would never have known they'd produced it in three hours, from a quivering and terrified mess fighting the bodily urge to dehydrate via tear ducts. After they left, the second marker and I looked at each other and went "So that was a 2:1, right?"

I caught up with Aeron downstairs and he was beaming. Apparently Ceri had seen him on their way out, and had gone over to talk to him. Aeron said the difference between the Ceri of this morning and the Ceri of then was like two different people; in four hours, they'd gone from their voice literally breaking as they admitted the problem, ashamed and broken, to being relaxed and happy and smiling.

"I reckon I've passed," they apparently told Aeron, pleased. "Maybe even a 2:2. There's things I wish I'd had the time to do better, but I'll be happy if I passed."

They won't know until late January what they got, because we're not allowed to release marks until 20 term days after hand-in, and the Christmas holidays are about to hit. But I'm really hoping I can be there when they're released.

But mostly, I'm just... insanely proud of them. I cannot tell you how happy I am. And I know, I know, obviously this is not a practice I would want to see them do regularly, or indeed ever again, and it only worked because they were fucking lucky with the assignment format, but like... when life is just punching you in the face, and you hit a breaking point... isn't it nice? That just this once, you pull off a miracle, and it's fixed? The disaster you thought was about to ruin you is gone? To get that relief?

Anyway. Super super proud today.

[antiwhores]

You accidentally had sex with Bakugou.

You two had fallen asleep in his room after a hang out. You were bestfriends but you had some underlining feelings for him. So when you woke up in the middle of the night to him cuddling you, you almost choked.

You needed to pee really bad so sadly you had to pry yourself out of his arms. When you came back his eyes were cracked open just barely. He mumbled something before opening his arms for you to join him again.

It was out of character, maybe tired Bakugou was just a touchy guy. It couldn’t be more than that.

So you joined him on the bed. You buried your face into his neck. You had to savor this cause most likely this’ll be the last time this happens. Also, you were too tired to freak out. You just wanted to fall asleep in his arms.

You can barely explain what happened after that. He hiked your leg onto him, still with his half open eyes, and thrusted right against your clothed pussy.

The next thing you know, he’s dry humping you. And then he’s fingering you. And finally he’s fucking you.

It felt good, too good.

But the morning after? You felt embarrassed. No way you just fucked him without even a first date. He’s gonna think you’re easy. He might even tell everyone that you are.

Of course, that would never happen but you were panicked. You couldn’t possibly comprehend that the great Dynamight chose you. You weren’t famous. Not a vogue model, a hero, or even wealthy. You had nothing to give him.

He had to be messing with you.

So you slipped out of his hold at 5am sharp and went home.

You fell back to sleep in tears and woke up to several texts and calls. Good thing you had your ringer off.

Bakugou - 6:34am

Where’d you go?

I was gonna make you breakfast dumbass

Bakugou - 6:52

Y/n?

Missed call - 7:00am

Bakugou - 7:30

Is this about last night?

I’ll wait for that call back so we can talk about it.

Missed call - 10:03am

Bakugou - 10:05

Call me and we can talk about it. This ignoring me isn’t gonna make it go away.

Missed call - 11:12

Missed call - 11:26

Missed call - 11-31

Bakugou - 11:40

Fucking call me back, this shit isn’t funny.

You’re so lucky I don’t know where you live yet. I’d be there in 15 minutes if I knew.

You debated calling him back. But your embarrassment and anger stopped you from letting him explain himself. How could he use your feelings against you like that! He probably knew that you liked him and wanted a quick fuck.

You started to cry all over again.

A week passed by with no contact. He sent you the occasional text telling you to talk to him but after the 6th day he seemed to give up. At least you thought that until he showed up at your door.

You opened the door wide without checking who it was since you were expecting a package. Your eyes widened when you noticed the blonde leaning against the doorframe, still in his hero costume. He must’ve just gotten off work, saving civilians and climbing the charts. It was another reminder of how he could never want you.

“You gonna let me in or am I-“

You tried to slam the door in his face but he shoved it back open easily. He let himself in, scanning the place.

“Nice place, ‘don’t see why you hadn’t invited me over.”

Maybe it’s because your small, cosy apartment didn’t compare to his high rise penthouse at the top floor.

You grabbed his arm and tried to pull him out. But he wasn’t having it and didn’t let you move him an inch.

“You need to leave, Bakugou.”

“Wow. Last name basis and I was inside you a week ago.”

“Yeah well that shouldn’t have happened.”

“Okay but it did so let’s fuckin’ talk about it.”

You just wanted him to leave before you bursted out in tears. You shook your head, trying to pull him harder but to no avail. Your lip quivered in frustration as tears welled up in your eyes.

Suddenly, he threw you over his shoulder and set you on the couch.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

You broke down in tears.

You told him everything, every assumption you made and every insecurity. You told him how you liked him but you knew he didn’t like you back. He sat there patiently, not speaking a word until you were done.

He got up with a blank face. You thought he was gonna leave at first but he kneeled down to be eye to eye with you.

“Wanna go on a date?”

It surprised you. It was the last thing he expected you to say.

“I’ll take you on a date and prove to you how much I want you. And for the record, I’ve probably liked you longer than you have me. When we met in that coffee shop I immediately knew you were the one I wanted. ‘S rude of you of you to make assumptions but I’ll let it pass if you go on a date with me.”

You agreed as he wiped off your tears. Who were you to say no?

[avianyuh]

Jeon Jungkook as a Boyfriend

So I think we've moved past JK's 'baby' phase

Like, look at him

Grown👏Ass👏Man👏

So I'm not gonna spew any of that "He's scared of girls" crap

He was very young when he debuted and I know for sure he's grown out of that phase of his life.

In three years Kookie will be 30🤧

But, JK is an introvert

I think that's something he has always been and fame has probably made him become a more defined introvert

So I think if one were to be dating him, you would spend a lot of time together at home

Playing video games

If you play the same things as him, I think he'd get a little competitive

If you don't play the same things as him (or if you don't game at all) He would definitely teach you how to play

Would get so much enjoyment out of teasing you

I could see him trying to cook for you

He shares recipes a lot with army so I think he'd cook for you

And if you like to cook, I think he would look forward to whatever you make for him

He loves to be active

But I don't think it'd be a "dealbreaker" if you don't like to exercise

I see him with his gym time the same way I see him with his video game hobby

He'd love to bring you along with him to the gym

Or his home workouts tbh

And force you to do 50 pushups or something stupid

And he'd fake bully you if you couldn't do it

And if you did, he would do 50 more that you so he could still win

Like I said, very competitive

I think he'd like to draw for you

Probably get a tattoo of you once he was really serious about you...

Though he ain't no baby, he is still the member's baby and I think their approval would mean a lot to him

So he'd get nervous when it came to introductions between you and the rest of BTS

But obviously, it would go well so don't worry

You'd get aquatinted with Bam

And all of his other friends

Would do karaoke night at least once a week

Would try to find the perfect moment to say I Love You

But he'd end up putting to much pressure on himself trying to figure out the perfect time to say it

But he ended up blurting it out after he came home from a studio session and was greeted by the smell of you cooking

You had made dinner for him at 12 on the morning because you knew he'd be working late that night

So he just stood in front of the doorway of the kitchen watching you explain why you made dinner so late

And that's when he said it

Arms crossed, big grin plastered on his face as he shook his head

"I Love You"

And you dropped the wooden spoon you were using to stir your pot and you jumped into his arms, returning those same words

UGHHHHH

And then y'all ate and moved it to the bedroom

Where you then passed out due to being stuffed and exhausted from being up so late...

But speaking of the bedroom!

SHEXY SHTUFF:

Ooooo

You guys know about the whole 1)Dom 2)Sub 3) Switch thing right?

Well, I think he'd be option 3

I see him as the type to take the lead most of the time

But, I think on days where he might be a little shy or who knows, maybe you upset him and got in a fight

I see him as the type who would want you to take the lead

But I think most of the time he would be dominate since he gives me control freak vibe

*Cough* Virgo *Cough*

Omg his arms

Imagine him like, lifting you

Oop

I see him as the type to be heavy with the eye contact

I think he'd put an emphasis on pace

I think if he was really trying, or was mad, he'd go faster

But if he had all the time in the world, he'd go slow and that's where he'd really lay on the eye contact

Would take sex as an opportunity to tell you how much he loves you

And yes, I do see him as the type to crack jokes during sex

And honestly my Tumblr friends, that is what you want in a man

Get freaky but at the same time have fun

Btw, have fun tracing those tattoos!

[dark-fics-4-you]

Keeping the Peace

credit to @jadiwrites for helping write the blowjob scene

dark!Peacekeeper!Coriolanus Snow x f!Reader with a side of dark!Sejanus Plinth (only one scene for Sejanus)

Warnings: smut, noncon (dead dove do not eat), forced sex, forced oral (m!recieving), reader is held up at gunpoint, unprotected sex, degradation, slight spit kink, kidnapping, violence, misogyny, free use themes, abuse of power, power imbalance

The sky over district 12 was cloudy and grey the first time you ever took notice of Coriolanus Snow.

Growing up in the aftermath of the districts’ rebellion meant that you had barely known a life that wasn’t ruled by Peacekeeping grunts. Your memories before then were murky, you could remember a difficult life without many pleasures or much to eat, followed by periods of war, when food was even harder to come by.

You could remember countless faceless Peacekeepers blurring together, all of them looked the same to you. Just a bunch of capitol brutes who struck fear into the heart and souls of everyone in your district, yourself included. You had learned at a young age to never talk to, or talk back to, a Peacekeeper.

Even making eye contact with a Peacekeeper was never a good idea, any facial expression that implied dissent could be punished. After all, who would question the word of a Peacekeeper over some district scum, as they often liked to call you.

However, as you made your way across the market, trading some leather for food and purchasing several jugs of water and any medicine you could, you couldn’t shake the burning feeling that you were being watched, maybe even followed.

You glanced around the crowded market, trying to catch the eye of whoever might be watching you, but you couldn’t figure it out. You had convinced yourself that you had to be paranoid, that you were just working yourself up over nothing, when you finally spotted him.

He was standing several yards away from you, and despite the many people in the busy market, his cold, blue eyes were trained on you. This Peacekeeper seemed on edge, like he was hoping for a fight to break out just so he could break it apart.

You felt a shiver pass through your body, averting your eyes immediately to avoid any suspicions from falling on to you.

It had to be a coincidence, you catching him staring at you once didn’t mean anything really, but something about the look in his eyes made you feel profoundly anxious for reasons you couldn’t identify.

You spent the entire walk to your house glancing over your shoulder to make sure you weren’t being followed, and when you finally got to your house and closed the door behind you, even the safe walls of your home couldn’t calm your nerves for hours.

The second time that you took notice of Coriolanus Snow was a week after the incident in the market, but this time he got much closer to you.

You had been on a nighttime walk in the woods, trying to clear your head after the stressful shift you had just worked at the bar.

Your boss had yelled at your several times, threatening to cut your already measly pay if you messed up another order, but it wasn’t your fault that all the men who came into the bar harassed you so much that you could hardly remember if a certain order of beers went to the table where the red-faced pigs called you a whore or to the table of rowdy men that kept smacking your ass every time you walked by.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t quit. You and your family were barely surviving as it was, your mother too ill to work and your brother was too young.

You were so consumed in thought that you didn’t hear the rustling of the branches nearby.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be out here this late, young lady.”

You spun around, fear shooting through your body when you came face to face with a familiar pair of blue eyes.

The peacekeeper towered over you, and your heart skipped a beat when he took a step closer. His helmet was gone now, allowing you a glimpse at his blond buzz cut.

“Don’t you know there’s a curfew right now? You could get into serious trouble if I reported you to my superiors.” The man’s voice was low and threatening, his eyes sharp and determined.

“I’m sorry,” you replied quietly, trying to make yourself sound as non-argumentative as possible. Fear was pulsing through your veins. You had heard about the kind of things Peacekeepers would do to the districters that pissed them off, and you were terrified of something bad happening to you when you knew no one else could take care of your family.

“I just wanted to take a walk. I’m not doing anything wrong.”

He took a step closer and your fear rooted you in place. Coriolanus studied you for a moment, his lips twitching into a scowl.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, sir.” Your heart was hammering in your chest. “Am I in trouble?”

“Depends, Y/N. Turn around and put your hands on that tree.”

“What?” Your eyes widened before nervously glancing around. You were still a 10 minute walk from the town, and 15 from your house. An area this remote was not one anyone would be visiting for hours. There was no one else around this late at night, and the cool breeze now gave you chills.

“Did I stutter?” He took another step towards you, crowding your space, and you backed away from him in fear. You didn’t miss the way that his hand came to rest on the pistol at his hip. “I said, turn around and lean against that tree, I need to search you for counterfeit goods.”

You had been searched by Peacekeepers before, but this was different. Before, it had always occurred in the market or the main square, but now you found yourself all alone in the dark, completely at the mercy of this stranger who held absolute power and authority above you.

You took a breath to calm yourself, trying to tell yourself that you were fine. That he was just going to search you and then let you leave. You turned your back to him and placed your hands on the large tree in front of you.

When he moved closer to you, chest practically pressing to your back before he had begun to search you, you took in a sharp breath. Why was he so close to you? Had the Peacekeepers always conducted their searches like this?

His large hands came to your waist, patting around the fabric of your clothes, circling your waist before returning to your sides. They trailed lower, grabbing at the cloth of your skirt before passing over your hips. His hands ghosted over your ass for just a moment before moving to your legs. It was so quick you weren’t even sure if it had actually happened or if you imagined it.

When he was satisfied with checking your lower body, his hands returned to your waist, climbing up the sides of your ribcage.

You yelped in surprise when you felt his large hands cover your chest, roughly squeezing your tits as he held his body close to you. This time, you felt no doubt at all about whether he knew he was doing. You couldn’t move, terrified of what he might do if you tried to break away from him.

You skin crawled when his lips pressed to your neck, smooth voice whispering into your ear, “just need to be thorough.”

He inhaled deeply through his nose, giving your breasts one final pinch before pushing you against the tree and stepping back.

You spun around to look at him, back pressed to the rough bark and eyes fearful.

He looked amused as he stared down his nose at you and you were both quiet for a few moments before he spoke again.

“Don’t let me catch you breaking curfew again, Miss Y/L/N.” His voice was cold and hard. “Now get out of here before I change my mind and decide to write you up.”

You shuddered at what it might mean if he caught you again, but you didn’t have time to think about it, because when he stepped aside to let you past him, you ran the entire way home, bolting all of the doors when you got there.

You came to learn through passing that his name was Coriolanus Snow. Several of your friends had experienced run ins with him before, but nothing like what had happened to you.

After the night that he searched you in the woods, you started to notice him everywhere. He must have figured out your daily and weekly schedule, because even though you had started to try avoiding him, he was always at the market when you went shopping and you found that he had been stationed outside of the bar you worked at every night you were on the schedule.

You grew to expect the feeling of his eyes following you everywhere, although that didn’t mean it unnerved you any less.

One night, completely exhausted from your shift, you exited the bar in a hurry, forgetting to do your usual sweep to scan for Coriolanus lurking around.

Wanting to take the shortest route possible, you opted to head through the dimly lit alleyway behind the bar.

“Get any good tips tonight, Y/N?” The voice from behind washed over you like a bucket of cold water.

You turned to see Coriolanus leering above you, blocking the way you had came, a triumphant smirk plastered on his face. The sounds of the bar were muffled but still loud and raucous, although the only thing you could hear was your heart beating quickly in your chest.

You cleared your throat, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice, “No, not really.”

“Mm, tough night?” He asked, voice lighter now, but it didn’t do anything to make you feel better.

“Every night is here,” you responded, nodding your head to the bar behind you.

“I bet,” the taller man answered, inching closer to you as he did. “Why don’t you pull out your wallet, sweetheart?” Although it was phrased more like a statement than a question.

“My wallet?” You repeated nervously, reaching for your purse slowly.

He grinned as he snatched the bag from your hands and started to rifle through it. “I mean, you said you didn’t make any good tips tonight, so I figured you wouldn’t miss ‘em.”

“But I need that money!” You huffed with frustration. “My Ma’s sick! She needs medicine all the time.”

Coriolanus chucked darkly, starting to grow annoyed, “You think I give a fuck about whether your Ma lives or dies?” He grabbed the handful of cash that you had been saving up for weeks and stuffed it into his pocket.

“Hmm, seems like a lot of money, Y/N. I wonder how a simple waitress could have made so much?”

“That’s my money I’ve been saving! I told you, it’s for my Ma, I’m just trying to get her better treatments, please!” You pleaded with him, tears beginning to form at your waterline.

He just shook his head, tsk-ing like he was disappointed in you. “First you broke curfew, and now this, Y/N? You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight. I’m taking this money and letting you off with another warning. Unless of course, you wanna give me a reason to search you again.”

Coriolanus towered above you, drinking you in with amused eyes and enjoying the frustration written all over your face, “How does that sound?”

You bit your tongue, rage boiling inside you, “fine,” you answered through gritted teeth.

He threw your now empty purse at you, before moving to let you pass. As you walked by him, however, his hand shot out to roughly slap your ass, and you could still hear his chuckles echoing off the walls as you ran out of the alley with tear stained eyes.

Two days after that incident, you returned home from a double shift at the bar to madness. You needed to make up for the money that Coriolanus had taken from you somehow, and now you were working yourself to the bone to try to cover for the unexpected loss.

You were shocked to find the place swarming with Peacekeepers who were tearing your home apart. You entered slowly, not wanting any trouble from them, but needing to check on your ma and little brother.

“What’s going on?” You demanded of one of the Peacekeepers, but you got no answers.

Well, not until an all too familiar face emerged from your room with something clutched in his hand. His piercing blue eyes found you immediately, but his face remained hardened. Your mouth dropped in surprise when you realized what he was holding.

“This room is clear,” he announced loudly, not breaking his eye contact as you watched him stuff a pair of your panties into his pocket.

A horrible chill passed through your body and you felt like you could be sick. Why of all people was he choosing to target you? What had you ever done to him to warrant any of this?

Your brother began to cry when they entered his room, and you hugged him tight, brushing your fingers through his hair and quietly singing a lullaby to calm him. You nervously glanced at your mother, who was seated in the kitchen with you.

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

Your head snapped to Coriolanus, who gestured for you to come over to him. You pressed a kiss to your brother’s head before standing and crossing over to him, making sure you kept your distance.

“What do you want, Coriolanus?” You hissed quietly, trying not to draw the attention of the other Peacekeepers.

“Got some reports of possible rebel activity taking place here. We have to check out any tips we get.” His cool response made you want to scream. You knew that he was lying through his teeth, the only people who even came to your home were you, your brother, and your Ma.

“You and I both know that’s not true!” You hopelessly pleaded with him. “Please, can’t you leave my family alone? It’s hard enough for them as is.”

He chuckled at your desperation, clearly pleased with the panicked response he was receiving, before barking at the men in your brother’s room to get out.

When he pushed you into the doorway of your brother’s room, your ma and brother cried out in protest, but Coriolanus yelled at them to shut the fuck up before he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

“Maybe you didn’t learn your lesson the first two times. And since the other Peacekeepers haven’t gotten the chance, I think I should search you myself.” He pushed you up against the wall that you were facing, roughly pressing your cheek to it while the hand at the back of your neck clenched down.

This time he didn’t even pretend to properly search you, the hand at your neck immediately clamping over your mouth to muffle your protests, while the other groped your chest, plucking at your tits while you struggled in his grasp. He slid his hand under your shirt and bra this time, sighing into your ear when he finally squeezed the soft, tender skin of your breast.

“You’re so beautiful, y’know that, Y/N?” He whispered, and you wanted to be sick at the feeling of his fingers tweaking your hardening nipple. “With a little make up and some better clothes, you’d fit right in with the rich capital girls.”

A tear escaped, trailing down your cheek and you blinked more away. You felt impossibly trapped, frozen in fear and trembling in his arms. His hands came to your hips, pulling you closer and holding you to him as he rubbed his hard on against your ass.

His lips were close to your ear, “if you want to protect your family, you need to stop trying to avoid me.”

“Fuck you,” you whispered, against your better judgment.

At this he chuckled, and one of his hands left your hips, grabbing onto your chin, forcing your head to the side and holding you still as his lips smothered yours with a rough kiss.

And then he backed off, walking out of the room before he called off the other men.

You were still in shock as you caught your breath, staring at the space he was just occupying as you tried to collect your head.

Lips still burning from his kiss, you shuddered as you thought about what you might need to do to keep your ma and brother safe from him.

After they had all filed out and you took a moment to adjust your clothes, you finally left your brother’s room and took in the wreckage they had left behind. The house was trashed, furniture knocked over and papers scattered about everywhere.

Your room was the worst of all though, everything had been pulled out of the drawers and piled on the floor, your mattress was up against the wall, your desk had been toppled over, leaving anything on top of it to scatter across your room, and they had shattered your mirror, leaving a jagged piece reflecting your misery back at you as you stood in the door.

Your ma was a mess, crying and hugging you and your brother for an hour afterwards, repeatedly questioning out loud why they would do this to your family.

Unfortunately, the answer was all too plain to you now, although you were still too freighted to fully admit it to yourself.

For whatever reason, Coriolanus Snow had decided to stake his claim on you, and based on your previous interactions with him, you knew that it was only a matter of time before he would take what he wanted.

For a week, you were terrified to leave your house alone, always calling on your friends to ask them to walk with you too and from work or the market.

In those days, Coriolanus’ presence always weighed heavy on you, no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. Even having your friends nearby couldn’t stave off the fear that clutched your heart when you noticed Coriolanus stalking behind your group, always a good deal of distance away, but you knew that he made himself visible to you on purpose.

The feeling of safety became something of the past. Everywhere that you went, he was there, although he hadn’t spoken to you since he and his other Peacekeeping brutes tore your home apart. But that didn’t make him any less terrifying.

Even your house, which had felt secure and safe for so long was no longer sacred. It had taken days to clean up the place, and much of your furniture had been broken in the frenzy.

After Coriolanus had assaulted you in your home, you bartered with some friends to acquire a large lock to place on the front door of the house, but it still didn’t provide much protection when the peacekeepers could just break the door down.

Unfortunately for you, having that lock also didn’t do you any good if you forgot to use it.

After waving goodbye to your friend as you walked up to your door after a late night shift, you pulled out your key and turned the lock, leaving it hanging on the door and closing it behind you.

The first thing that you noticed when you stepped inside was how unusually quiet it was. Usually your brother would be at the door to greet you, even at this late hour, but he wasn’t there this time, and when you called out for your ma and brother, you only heard silence in response. Where were they?

Alarm bells started ringing in your head as you ventured further, and you had just stepped into the doorway of your room when you heard a heavy click and felt cold steel press against the back of your head.

You froze in place, staring ahead into the broken mirror across from you that confirmed who was behind the trigger.

Your eyes locked in the mirror, the cold resolve set in his icy blue gaze made you shudder.

“Didn’t I tell you to stop trying to stay away from me, Y/N?” He was angry, a lethal poison infecting his voice.

You couldn’t speak, your mouth was dry, and your mind was racing a million miles a second, but you needed to know that your family was safe.

“Did you hurt them?” You whispered.

“Not yet. Your Ma and brother will be fine. As long as you do what I say.”

You let out a shaky breath at the confirmation that they were safe, but your stomach still turned at his words. You were terrified of Coriolanus, and now that he had you completely at his mercy, you knew that he wouldn’t let you go until he took exactly what he wanted from you.

“You understand, yes?” The gun pressed to your skull harder and you quickly nodded.

“Yes.”

“Get on your knees, slowly.” You felt him move the pistol away from your head for a moment, and you turned around, meeting his eyes fearfully before lowering yourself to kneel before him.

Coriolanus unbuttoned his blue shirt, dropping it on the floor behind him. He looked at you expectantly and you realized he wanted you to unbuckle his belt. Your trembling fingers fumbled with the belt before reaching forward to unbutton his pants and slide down the zipper. He pushed his pants down his legs before removing his boxers as well.

He smirked down at you as you took in the size of him.

“Such a pretty girl,” you flinched when you felt one hand twist into your hair while the other brought the pistol to your temple. “But I think you’d look better with your lips wrapped around my cock.”

The hand in your hair tightened, pulling at your scalp and dragging your head forward.

Reluctantly, you lifted your hand to wrap around the base of his thick cock, nervously wetting your lips before parting them and taking the tip into your mouth.

Coriolanus pushed himself deeper, nudging the back of your throat and groaning lowly when your eyes flitted up to meet his.

You pressed your tongue flat to the bottom of your mouth, trying to make more room for him as he sped up his pace.

You closed you eyes, bringing every thought to controlling your breath as he pushed his cock to the back of your throat, in and out between your lips. The cooling metal of the gun barrel was still taut against your skin, trembling slightly as Coriolanus gritted his teeth above you.

"Look at that, you're relaxing for me, good girl." But where did your pretty eyes go? That wouldn't do, he needed all of your attention. The nails of his fingers dug into your scalp, and tears sprung into your eyes. Your muffled yelp reached his ears.

"You'll keep," a groan interrupted him as your hand tightened around his cock, "your eyes open, and on me.”

“Do....you...understand?" Each word was punctuated by a harsh thrust into your throat, pushing past your tongue and slamming against the back of your neck.

You pathetically hummed around his cock in agreement, nervously keeping your eyes on his, not wanting to give him any reasons to hurt you.

By the time he was coming down your throat, your lips were puffy from his brutal pace, and your tears made your cheeks slick and shiny. You gagged at the sensation, throat closing around his length as he spilled his seed down your throat. He held your head in place, choking you with his cock until you had swallowed every drop of his salty cum.

Coriolanus’ grip on the gun had tightened as he came and you fearfully glanced at it before meeting his eyes again.

When he pulled his cock out of your mouth, he was quick to drag you to your feet before tossing you stomach first onto the bed behind you.

Coryo finally holstered his gun, turning back to you and easily pushing you against the bed as he bunched your skirt up at your waist. He let out a low whistle as he admired your ass, reaching out a hand to grope you before giving the soft flesh a sharp smack, earning him a whine from you. You could feel your hips digging into the hard mattress that you had had for your whole life.

You struggled in his arms, but when his hand found it’s home around your throat and you felt his cockhead start sliding past your lips, you realized there was nothing you could do to avoid what was coming.

Coriolanus pushed all of himself into you in one slow, punishing thrust. You didn’t have any time at all to adjust to his thick length before he was gripping your ass tightly, canting his hips back and thrusting into you again.

Your gasps and cries were muffled by his large hand at your throat. The way he tightened his grip combined with the feeling of him stretching you out had you seeing stars.

His pace was brutal. Coriolanus had been imagining this for weeks, and after you kept yourself away from him the past few days, he wanted to make the most of the first time he fucked you.

Each time you tried to escape from under him, his large arms wrapped around you again, holding you in place as he snapped his hips against your ass, burying himself deep inside you with every thrust.

“Keep trying to get away sweetheart,” his hot breath fanned over your neck, and the blond drew closer to suck at a tender spot until you whined and melted back into his arms. “I like watching you struggle.”

Your stomach turned and you tried to ignore how weak your knees felt at the peacekeeper’s whispered threats in your ear.

Coriolanus pulled out of you, not giving you time to process his actions before he was flipping you onto your back.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins and you tried to break away from the terrifying man above you while you had the chance, but you were too slow.

The blond captured you again, throwing you onto the bed and straddling you as you thrashed against him. When Coriolanus reached his hand out again to choke you, you could feel your heart beating against his hand.

You flinched when he drew close to you, his nose practically touching yours as he forced you to look at his eyes.

When he pushed into you again, stretching you out from a new angle, you whimpered, trying hard not to let your lashes flutter closed.

Coriolanus reveled at the sight of your sweet, tear filled eyes meeting his as he split you open with his cock. The way that you trembled beneath him gave him a thrilling sense of control over you. He knew that you already would let him do whatever he wanted, but for some twisted reason he wished he had held onto his gun so he could press it to your temple as he fucked you and see the fear in your eyes.

Your cunt was pulling him in, squeezing and twitching around his length with every thrust. He could feel you getting wetter around him with every brush against your walls.

“You’re so tight, so wet,” he strained, getting distracted by the sounds of your cunt squelching with every move he made. “I need to fill up that pretty pussy, Y/N.”

At the sight of your eyes widening and your lips parting in protest, Coriolanus clamped his hand over your mouth before fucking you faster, groaning and cursing under his breath.

“Someone needed to- fuck,“ Coriolanus’ voice caught in his throat when he felt you clench around him, “someone needed to teach you a lesson about respecting authority. You should feel lucky that I was willing to.”

Begging and sobbing against his hand only spurred him on and he laughed at every pathetic attempt you made to push him off.

Coriolanus’ hand crept from your mouth to frame your jaw and he roughly squeezed your cheeks until you opened your mouth. The blond spat into your mouth and you gagged, your repulsion making your skin crawl. You wanted to throw up at the feeling of his spit sliding down your throat when you swallowed it, and Coriolanus chuckled at your disgust as he leered over you.

“You’re just a filthy district slut,” his hand returned to your throat, choking you harder than he had before, “and that’s all you’ll ever be, Y/N.” The venom and hatred in his voice shocked you, and the way he was thrusting into you was downright punishing.

You were clenching around him so tight, and the sight of your sweet, innocent face marred with so much fear was enough to send Coriolanus over the edge.

He slowed, groaning as he pumped you full of his seed, his cock still twitching inside of you.

After he pulled out and moved off of you, you tried to turn away from him, but his hand shot out and latched onto your wrist, twisting your arm painfully before forcing you to face him and firmly kissing you.

When he pulled away, the words that he uttered sent a chill over your skin, “Snow lands on top.”

The next few days were a blur as you blinked in and out of dissociation. Coriolanus had his way with you more times than you could count, never caring about your distress at him using your body however he pleased.

Any resistance you put up was easily squashed when he snapped back threats to hurt your family. However if he was in a really bad mood, he would brandish his pistol, pressing the sharp metal to your forehead until you sobbed, and apologized for fighting back.

You weren’t even sure how many days had passed since you first discovered that Coriolanus had your ma and brother thrown in jail.

Every time Coriolanus sank into you, you could feel yourself receding into your mind, trying to protect yourself from the nightmare you found yourself in.

During the days, he would go out to terrorize the people of district 12, and during the nights, he would return to terrorize you.

One night you lay in your bed, praying that your ma and brother were safe. You could only imagine the horrible things they could be being subjected to at the hands of the peacekeepers.

Your neck was sore and bruised, as were your wrists. Your entire body was aching with pain from Coriolanus’ repeated abuse.

When you heard the front door swing open, you tensed instinctively, closing in on yourself in anxiety. Hushed voices reached your ears and you craned your neck to try to hear better. They seemed to be in the midst of a conversation.

“I mean, don’t you think that maybe what you’re doing here is wrong?”

“Sejanus, if anything, you’d be helping the poor girl, we’ll give her food for every load she takes.” Your stomach turned at the disgusting way Coriolanus was talking about you, and the way his friend laughed along with him.

“And you’re sure she’s not going to try to tell somebody?”

“Nobody would believe her over a Peacekeeper, and besides, who will there be to tell? I have dirt on every officer in 12, if they tried to do anything to put a stop to this, they’d be taking themself down as well.”

The men were both silent as Coriolanus’ words sunk in.

“You promise you’ll actually help her out afterwards?” His friend, Sejanus apparently, sounded somewhat concerned, but clearly not concerned enough to report Coriolanus. “And she’s gonna get something in return?”

“Yeah, I’ll make sure her brother gets some candy or something,” Coriolanus chuckled and you heard the other man laughing too.

“Is she in there right now?” Those words had you sitting up in bed, fear clutching your heart. Coriolanus wasn’t seriously discussing pimping you out to his friends, was he?

You got your answer immediately however, when your door opened and you came face to face with a man you recognized as another peacekeeper. He seemed anxious, but after he noticed your state of undress, he advanced on you with the same sick desire you had seen in Coriolanus’ eyes several times now.

Your throat was dry and anxiety laced your words as you pleaded with him, “Wait, please don’t!”

“Shut up,” he growled, leering over you as you sat on the bed.

You tried to put up a fight, but it was all in vain. You really should have known you couldn’t take on a peacekeeper. Despite your attempt to run past him and reach the door, he easily grabbed you and shoved you back onto the bed. His hands pawed at your undergarments, throwing them behind him without a second thought before he removed his pants and stroked his hard cock.

When he forcefully pushed himself into your sore pussy, you cried out, tears pricking at your eyes and spilling over when he began to rock back and forth.

Sejanus was different than his friend in several ways. While Coriolanus had been rough and kept a fast pace, you found that Sejanus preferred to take his time, slowly pushing his cock into you as you trembled in his grasp. After the initial struggle, he was surprisingly tender and gentle, caressing your soft skin, pressing kisses to your breasts, and sucking on your sensitive nipples.

Unlike the blond, Sejanus seemed almost unwilling to meet your eyes, and when you protested or put up any resistance, instead of reveling in the fight, Sejanus just covered your mouth with his large palm so your yelps couldn’t reach his ears.

“I’m doing this for you, Y/N.” He whispered against your skin when he drew close, tilting his hips back so he almost slid all the way out before slowly filling you up again all the way to the hilt.

His words only made you feel worse. You didn’t want any of this, and when you grabbed his hand off of your mouth and told him as much, his eyes darkened in anger.

You whimpered when his hand came to your throat, squeezing harshly against the faded bruises.

“I’m not a bad guy, okay?” It was hard to discern if he was trying to convince you or himself, and after he slapped you for not agreeing with him, you nodded and tearfully responded.

“You’re not.”

“I’m not,” his hot breath fanned over your dewy skin as he repeated himself on a loop, thrusting his cock into your tight cunt again and again. “I’m not. I’m not.”

You whined when his hand came between your legs, swirling around your clit and stealing unwanted gasps from you.

Every drag of his thick cock against your snug walls mixed with his twitching fingers at your clit brought you closer to the brink or orgasm.

Tears fell past your eyes which were squeezed shut, and you whimpered as you came around him and he fucked you harder, fingers never leaving your clit.

When you came again, Sejanus kissed you for the first time, desperation and hunger evident in the way his tongue pushed its way into your mouth, swallowing your moans as his lips slid over yours. You felt disgusted, but also couldn’t ignore the confusing way you clenched around him when his lips first found yours.

Your third orgasm was close behind the second, tearing through you with force and Sejanus grunted at the feeling of your slick cunt choking his cock, fucking you faster and chasing his own release.

He cursed loudly when he came, shuddering as he slowly snapped his hips against yours to fuck his cum deeper inside of you.

Sejanus kissed you again before pulling out, quietly apologizing without meeting your eyes and then he was gone, leaving you exhausted and sore in a bed you no longer felt safe in.

As you lay there, trying to ground yourself and comprehend what you had just gone through, you couldn’t help but think of your mother and brother, who were being held in prison just because of the twisted infatuation Coriolanus had with you.

How different would your life be now if he had never approached you that late night several weeks ago?

And what was your life going to look like now that he had claimed his stake on you and was planning to let his Peacekeeper friends “share” you and take advantage of you whenever they pleased?

Hours had passed as you tried to think of any way out of the bottomless pit that you now found yourself in. Tears had subsided a while ago, but now you were just left with emptiness. You were still lost in thought when the door opened and Coriolanus’ large frame cast a shadow across your bed.

The grin he shot you after he took in your distressed state was smug, triumphant even, and the glint in his eyes told you exactly why he was entering your room at the early hours of the morning.

Tonight, you didn’t put up any fight at all.

[strawberrystepmom]

cw: overt infidelity (gojo is married to someone that is not reader), abusive relationship, physical abuse though it is not described in a graphic way. gojo x sorcerer/teacher f!reader. | word count: 3k, reading time: approx. 12 min.

As time passes, it becomes harder for you to remember the little reasons why you dumped Satoru five years ago. Distance may make your memories hazy but you’re certain that they were small, pitiful excuses you used to hide the truth from even yourself. 

You loved him as deeply as you’ve ever loved anyone but you weren’t ready for the responsibility of doing so. 

A man of his stature is only as strong as what he comes home to and you knew you’d fail him - you were emotional, unstable at the time, hard to get along with. The two of you had been through traumatic events one after the other and it left you feeling unmoored and unable to love the way you knew even then he needed to be.

You’ve never felt the need to begrudge him for moving on. It seemed only natural that he’d carry on with his life and you’d carry on with yours, slowly handing him boxes of his things from your place over months before one day you had nothing left to give and it was over. He was nothing but a blip on your radar and an indentation in your mattress that you’d eventually get rid of too.

The next day you learned about his new girlfriend, now wife. It hurt to hear about it in passing but you understood that your role as the heartbreaker left you with little entitlement to know what happened in his life and you also didn’t think anything of the lack of invitation to his wedding when it happened. Despite this, you pressed an envelope heavy with cash in his hands the following Monday at school and felt absolved of any further responsibility toward the man despite your lingering feelings.

For years, you assumed that the two of you would continue to move in divergent lines toward different lives and for a while it was true. You were able to work professionally and peacefully alongside him, unwilling to give up your beloved career as a teacher and sorcerer to save yourself from a bit of heartache. 

You saw him and his wife from time to time, the woman at his side never becoming particularly warm despite your genuine attempts to be friendly. A smile in her direction would be met with a smirk and then a frown, a smug reminder that she is the cat who got the cream rather than a woman in love with the man at her side. At some point a decision was made to be cordial enough to never raise questions but distant enough you rarely had to be around her.

Things seemed fine until the night your phone lit up and buzzed on your nightstand, clock ticking well past two in the morning. Squinting, you picked up the phone and scowled at the contact picture of a younger, far more audacious version of the man on the other end of the phone. 

“Satoru?”

Your dazed voice through the speaker was a revelation and the world rolled off his shoulders in an instant. Pacing in front of the convenience store across from your home, he watched your front door carefully with one of his hands stuffed in his pocket.

“Hi, it’s me. I know this is weird but I was in the neighborhood and wanted t-”

His voice sounded frenzied in a way you hadn’t heard in years, your anxiety spiking with each word. Something is wrong, why else would he have called you this time of night? 

“Slow down, I can hardly understand you.”

He sighed, shoulders slumping forward with the weight of it.

“Can I just come in? I’ll explain everything.”

Against your better judgment, you said yes and for months he has been coming to your door at the same time several nights a week. The first time he was kicked out for coming home later than his wife expected, his excuse of a mission more than she was willing to buy despite verifiable evidence that is exactly where he was. The second time, they argued on a date and she threw a drink on him in view of their friends unprompted, his bare chest exposed while sitting in your kitchen waiting for his shirt tumbling in the dryer. The third time, she hurled a shoe at him immediately upon entering the door for reasons he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.

Now, the twentieth time, you wonder why he’s bothered to remain married to this woman at all. 

Tonight his long body rests on your couch, socked feet dangling off of the end. You kneel on the ground beside him, petting rain wet strands off of his forehead while resting your chin on his chest. 

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

His eyes are closed tightly, the cerulean hidden from your view because he knows you’d be able to read him like a book otherwise, as you always have been. A shared glance between the two of you used to be a means of silent communication and ever since he rekindled this friendship, he worries it’s back to old times in that sense. He cannot connect with her the way that he does you, the same effortlessness never appearing in the way he assumed it magically would, even after three years of marriage.

“She hit me.”

You gasp, head popping up an instant and hair flying behind you. He doesn’t have to open his eyes to picture your face nor does he have to open them and use his Six Eyes to know that you are seething. Blood is rushing into your cheeks and your hands shake where they gingerly brush his hair away. 

“What do you mean?” Scoffing, you press your shaky fingers against his cheeks. “How?”

He laughs and in an instant, you feel terrible for questioning what has happened to him. You know this relationship is and always has been difficult, the grittiest of the details dropped off at your door so he can return home to her with an apology before the sun rises, but you never assumed she would go this far to prove her point or get her way.

“Satoru,” you start and he stops you, shaking his head and finally opening his eyes. They’re as dazzling as they are every time you are given the privilege of looking into them but he can’t chase the sadness buried in them away. He reaches for where your hand rests on his face and pulls it away, kissing your knuckles the way that he used to years ago when he still believed you’d be his forever.

“It’s fine. I was late again.”

A humorless chuckle leaves you and you rise from your kneeling position to stand with your hand on your hip, letting him keep his grip on the other one in some poor attempt to comfort him. You don’t even have confirmation that you bring him comfort, an assumption because he keeps showing up and nothing more, but you hope that’s the case. It’s sick and wrong but you can’t stop yourself from loving this man as much as you did years ago, marriage aside. You vowed to let him move on but you never vowed to stop caring. 

“She doesn’t get to hit you because a mission ran late, you know that, right?”

He shrugs. 

“I guess.”

His willingness to roll over and take it is what frustrates you the most, finally pulling your hand from his grip so you can fold your arms over your chest and pace the floor in front of him. You stop in your tracks and look down at him, eyes welling with tears. The emotion of the past several months, these illicit meetings where the two of you do nothing but talk and hold each other, hits you like a brick looking down at the dazzling man in front of you crumpled into a heap on your couch.

“Hey, don’t cry,” he soothes despite his own hurt and you find it frustrating that he’s so quick to jump to comforting you just like old times. You wave him off and continue to pace, chewing on your thumb nail while thinking of the best way to handle this. He sits up with a sigh and reaches out for you, one arm wrapping around your hip and the other guiding you into his lap. 

This isn’t the first time the two of you have crossed this line so you settle in, resting against the broad expanse of his chest and looking up at him from below. Your hands once again find their home on his face, cupping his cheeks, and you sniff. 

“I’m going to hit her back,” you warn and he laughs, his hand traveling up your arm and fingers wrapping around your wrist. “I am. Harder than I’ve ever hit anyone.”

The thing about love, Satoru has discovered, is that it’s a flame that only survives as long as you’re fanning it. Some people fan their flame with gentleness and patience, sweet touches and reassurances, lazy mornings and happy memories. Others fan theirs with anger and passion, frustrated groans and distrust, venomous words and poisoned glances.

Unfortunately, he learned this after he got married and has spent every night wishing he were resting in the familiar cradle of your old mattress rather than the cold bed he tied himself to for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t want you to do that.” 

He presses his lips against your forehead and you lean into it. What’s another physical boundary broken given how far the two of you have let this thing go. He is weaker now than he ever has been, strength zapped thanks to the battles he has to fight between the walls of his own home, and yours has become his paradise as it was not so long ago. His lips press a trail from your temple to your cheek and you sigh, wishing you felt more conflicted or at least guilty about it.

“Can I ask you something?” He nods, you feel it against your face rather than see it with your eyes.  

“When’s the last time you felt loved?”

The question hangs between the two of you painfully, your stomach turning at your own carelessness. He is married to a woman you’ve met, you’ve looked her in her eyes and smiled in her face, yet all you can see when you think about her is a person who has deeply hurt someone you love. Your someone. The someone you selflessly gave up to allow her the chance to meet him, a decision you’ve regretted often.

You can’t change your past but maybe you can convince him that he deserves a better future.

“Last night when I was here.”

You start to laugh but stop yourself looking at the softness in his face. This is surrender, something you’ve never asked him to give to you in all the years you’ve known each other, and he’s rewarding you by handing it over freely and of his own accord. 

“I mean that. I can’t remember the last time I was happy before the night I called you.”

Bottom lip quivering, you look away from him. You don’t want to show him the emotion on your face, keeping your cards close to your chest after all these years, but he lifts his hand to your face and tips it in his direction anyway. He scans your features and looks for any hint of regret. 

He doesn’t find it and continues to speak his mind, unafraid of consequences for the first time in years.

“I love you.”

Your quivering lip turns into full blown waterworks looking at him, tears carving a path down your face and dripping onto your chest. He loves you and hasn’t stopped since the last time he told you, the night you let him go. His lips go back to work on your face, kissing over each tear that falls before it can drip off of your chin and onto your shirt.

“It’s horrible but every time I look at her all I can think of is how she means nothing to me and how little she is compared to you.” He mutters with his lips still pressed to your cheek. You aren’t actively crying any longer, cheeks warm beneath his lips, but he knows you’re on the edge judging by your breathing. “I’m a terrible husband.”

Shaking your head, you shift your face enough so that you can look into his eyes.

“You are not, babe.” The old nickname slips before you can stop it and he smirks, the twinkle you didn’t see in his eyes earlier returning now that his old flame is no longer a single light in the darkness but a full blown forest fire razing his life. “She has never given you the chance to be your best.”

He wishes he disagreed despite how he’s convinced himself over the years he deserves what has been happening to him. The screaming, the arguments and accusations, the instability, it’s all because of his own ability to be good to his wife. To give her what she wants, which truthfully, he has no idea what she wants besides a subservient punching bag.

“You would have given me that chance, wouldn’t you?”

The question makes you sigh and you close the gap between your face, pressing your lips to his to break yet another physical boundary. He’s starved for the contact, quickly enveloping your lips with his own and groaning. He’s too greedy to tell you to stop, arm wrapped around your waist holding you tightly and his disappointment is evident when you place your hand on his chest and stop him. 

“In some terrible way, I think I already am.”

It’s true and both of you would be liars if you argued it. You may not be sleeping together, not yet, but he comes to you for the things he should be getting from his wife. Compassion, patience, confidence boosts, the things he can’t recall receiving from her once yet he finds bountifully within the four walls of your home.

“What should I do?” He finally asks, grip strong around your waist. You let your head loll against his shoulder, catching your breath and trying to think of the most reasonable way to handle this.

Selfishly, you want to tell him to run. To file papers tomorrow and move in with you here despite how everyone would gawk and talk, the way your colleagues would speculate and gossip. You’re certain she already has an inkling he’s here every night, the steely look she leveled your direction a few weeks ago across the room at a small dinner gathering for the sorcerers making you head out of the event in near record time. He ended up at your house that same night, head in his hands wondering what he possibly could have done to make her angry.

Choosing your words carefully seems like the less reckless option so you do.

“What do you want to do?”

Despite your very intentional word choice, you hope his answer will be the one you’re looking for and that he will ask you for help. Being his safe haven is a job you’ve always taken seriously and now more than ever you know he needs it.

“I don’t know. I think I need some time to decide.”

It’s disappointing that he hasn’t made his mind up yet but you understand. It’s never easy to walk away from something you promised your lifelong effort toward, not unlike this life of sorcery the two of you share, so you simply keep your head against his chest and wait for him to keep speaking rather than breaking the silence yourself.

“If I decide to leave, I won’t tell her about any of this.” 

“You don’t have to do that, Satoru. I made this decision too and she has a right to know unless you plan on never speaking to me again after.”

He laughs, genuinely. You can’t remember the last time you heard his cackle like this and you smile. He kisses you again.

“No. If I leave this is where I want to be.”

You don’t speak it, but the if makes you wonder how serious he is about the whole thing. It doesn’t matter though, you suppose, the hour ticking far past 3 am and stretching into 4 when you let him kiss you again. And again. And this time with tongue, with hands, with frenzy and need. The sun is about to rise by the time he stops, cheeks pink and eyes sparkling once again, and he digs his phone out of his pocket with a groan.

Looking at the missed call notifications, all from his wife, he rolls his eyes and swipes to dismiss them. You feel smug, not unlike her every time she has spotted you from across the room, but you remind yourself to be better than this woman who has shoved Satoru back into your arms.

“I have some shit I have to take care of but I’ll text you later, okay?”

You nod, sliding off of his lap and watching him stand up to adjust his clothing. His shirt is wrinkled and he hasn’t slept but he looks no different than he did upon his arrival, no trace of what transpired here tonight left behind on him.

“Okay.” 

You finally respond and he kneels in front of where you sit, holding your hands. It isn’t hard for him to catch on that you are apprehensive, uncertain about where you truly stand in all of this, so he does his best to reassure you.

“This is where I want to be.”

As he stands again, but not before pressing a pair of kisses to your forehead and the tip of your nose, all you can do is assume that he means it. 

He’s never lied to you before, why would he start now?

[emeraldgreenbeautiesstu]

written for this request : matt x hooters girl, i’m thinking the triplets are recurring customers that only come to see her because matt thinks she’s hot. (pls pls pls pls! make it smutty!)

warnings : dom!matt, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), oral (male receiving) degradation, public (kinda?) sex.

lowercase intended.

a/n : this is my first time writing smut so right now i'm just testing out the waters, thanks for the request! and as always, feedback is appreciated!

-

y/n had been working at a hooters in la for about four months and it was definitely an interesting job. and it paid good. she tended to rack up the most tips out of all of her coworkers, being the hottest one. She had double d’s and a nice ass, as well as sunkissed skin, and caramel brown hair. she was used to old shriveled patrons hitting on her by now, but she wasn't used to younger people coming in as much. but recently, a group of three men had been coming in about once a week for about a month and a half now, and the change of scenery was a big step up from the wrinkly perverts who she typically served. she recognized the boys to be youtubers, the sturniolo triplets. y/n had never watched their videos, but she knew enough about them to know they post the videos in their car, and that 12 year old girls go crazy over them.

y/n was nearing the end of her shift with only two hours left, when the hot regulars walked in. she found them all attractive, but the quiet one was her favorite. she watched as they sat in her section as they always do, smiling to herself. y/n made her way to their table, swaying her hips and making her tits bounce slightly as she pulled out her notepad and pen. it was a tactic she used to get more tips. “hey yall, welcome to hooters! can i get yall something to drink?” her sweet southern accent rang out.

the one she recognized to be nick spoke up saying, “i'll have a dr. pepper, and they'll have pepsis.” he said, pointing to his brothers. y/n noticed the one she recognized as matt had moved his hand to his pants, readjusting as he tried not to look at her. she smiled, loving the effect she had on him. shed be lying if she said she didnt think about him fucking her.

“ sure honey, ill be right back with that.” she walked away, making sure to ‘accidentally’ brush matts arm with her hip as she walked away.

time had past and the boys had gotten their food. y/n had passed their table, after teasing matt all night, brushing his hand as she gave him refills, hitting his shoulder when she laughed, etc. she soon noticed that matt had gotten up behind her. “im sorry did i forget something?” she said, turning around.

“something like that.” he grumbled, motioning for her to follow him as he walked past her. he led her to the back room, and pinned her against the wall, hands on either side of her head. “if you wanna act like a little slut all night, ill treat you like one.” he growled, not breaking eye contact. the breath hitched in y/ns throat, as she nodded. he broke away to lock the door. “knees.” matt said, sitting in a chair and manspreading, the bulge in his tight pants was extremely visible. she nodded, clenching her legs before getting on her knees, feeling matts gaze burning her skin. she unbuckled his belt, looking up to meet his eyes. she undid his pants and moved his boxers, his dick springing up to hit his stomach. he was big. “how bad do you want it sweetheart.” he inquired with his boston accent more prominent on the word 'sweetheart'.

“bad. so so bad.” y/n said, reaching for his aching member. she wrapped a hand around it, slowly pumping up and down his full length. matt got impatient. he grabbed her hair by the base of her ponytail, pushing her mouth onto his dick.

“you're such a slut y/n. working here with your tits on display? you know all the men here are starin, and you love it you whore. now you're blowing a costumer in the breakroom.” he growled, watching her pump up and down on his dick, his grip on her ponytail tight as he helped her bob. “s’pretty.”

he released into her mouth and she pulled off, starting to spit when matt said. “nup, good girls swallow it.” she did what she was told. she wanted to be a good girl. matt immediately pulled her up from the floor to a standing position, moving her to the wall once more. y/n stood dripping, when matt ripped her tiny shorts off, revealing no underwear. he smirked, seeing how soaked he was. “so wet already?”

“matt i need you.” she moaned out, taking matt by surprise. with no more words, he picked her up by her thighs and slammed into her, feeling her walls stretch. she yelped at the feeling, not even attempting to muffle her sounds as he aggressively thrusted in and out. after minutes of him absolutely rocking her shit, she moaned out “matt i- im gonna cum” the tension in her stomach having little to no give.

"you cum when i say you cum." he said, continuing to pound into her. he came again, pumping it into her. "dont wanna waste it now do we sweetheart?" he asked, realizing y/ns eyes were closed and her head was back. she responded with a weak 'mhm', he grabbed her chin with his thumb and index, pulling her face down to meet his. "answer me." he growled.

"no, we dont wanna waste it." she spat out. she came all over his dick, moaning as she couldnt hold it in any longer. they snapped out of their high when they heard a fist pounding on the door.

"whos in there!" the manager of the store shouted through the door.

shit.

a/n : tbh, probs could've done better but oh well! 🎀

[shadowmaat]

Most relevant bit:

The puppy was part of a litter of 12 at a July 20 event hosted by the Moms and Mutts Colorado Rescue for Pregnant and Nursing Dogs, also known as MAMCO. The event took place at the rescue's shelter at 2721 W. Oxford Ave. in Sheriden. The address is also sometimes listed in Englewood. The puppy, along with its littermates, came from Texas and was unvaccinated for rabies at the time of exposure. At the event, the puppy's litter was known as the "July Shepherd Mix" litter and may also have been referred to as the "Celebrity Kids" litter.

Rabies is bad, kids. Like, 100% fatal, bad. The pup had to be euthanized for testing and it's likely all its littermates will be, too. The article said they're trying to track down 17 people known to be in close contact with the infected pup, but anyone who was at the event needs to be wary. Rabies can be passed via saliva, so if the puppy licked you or your dog, there's a danger.

People who attended the event should call the Colorado Department of Public Health & Environment for screening.

They can call the agency's hotline at 303-692-2700 during business hours or 303-692-9395 after hours or on weekends or holidays. Or they can email cdphe_zoonoses@state.co.us CDPHE staff will determine whether attendees need post-exposure treatment.

It's also worth noting that post-exposure treatment only works before symptoms show up. Once you or your pet start displaying symptoms, it's too late. Again: rabies is 100% fatal.

The article doesn't mention how the pup contracted rabies in the first place and it doesn't mention how old the pup was, but a bit of quick research shows that the vax schedule for rabies isn't until 14 weeks, so if the puppy was younger than that (and this was a "nursing dogs" event) it's possible it was just too young to have been vaxxed. There may be more nuance to it than that and there's a lot of details that aren't mentioned, but I don't think this is a case of "ugh, Texas" or anything like that. Shelters, at least, take health & safety seriously. Any employee spouting off about animals not needing vaccines is going to get kicked to the curb.

I really hope that the CDPHE has a system in place to cover the cost of the post-exposure treatment since it can cost anywhere from $1200 to $6500 without insurance and that's going to be impossible for a lot of people, even if the alternative is a slow and painful death.

What a mess. I hope everyone (and their animals) comes through this safe and healthy.

[tatsumessy]

Missed calls - {itoshi sae}

“gosh you’re so fucking annoying. I wanted to call my girlfriend so that I could calm down from the huge amount of stress I’m already under and here you are acting like a nagging clingy psycho.” before any other words could be spoken you hung up the phone placing it on the nightstand.

Sae <3: I’m sorry.

Sae <3: y/n?

1 missed call

5 missed calls

12 missed calls

20 missed calls

hearing your phone ring once again you picked up up furiously screaming into the phone. “WHAT?” you yelled out of character, there was silence before he spoke, “you’re ignoring my calls.” without answering you slammed your phone on the nightstand not before turning on do not disturb.

you and sae had gotten in a pretty heated argument which ultimately ended with you hanging up the phone and ignoring it. he is in the states right now for a tournament so he can’t come to you. usually his sullen, dull, asshole personality would be just fine because that’s what you’re used too but this time he went too far.

he seemed like he didn’t even care. he wasn’t due to come back until next month so you opted to block his number leaving him with his “issues” that he has to deal with. if he thinks you’re clingy, fine. you’ll just go on about your business and leave him to do whatever he wanted. he always acts like he doesn’t want to be in a relationship so why not give him the freedom he’s wanted.

sae the moment those words came out his mouth felt like a dick. you were only worried because he had gotten trashed in an interview and it was shown on tv everywhere. he was frustrated and took it out of you, he knew the choice of words that he spoke was wrong but he said it anyways.

after you hung up on him he decided to wait until the morning to talk to you but his text weren’t going through and his calls weren’t either. “I’m sorry, the number you have dialed-” he tossed his phone on the hotel bed grabbing his head in frustration. his day was already starting horrible, usually you two would call each other in the morning and talk about what you’d do during the day so that you two knew when to call each other later.

two weeks passed and at this point he had called your number at least 40 times a day. any free second he had he would call you or text you, this is the longest you two had ever gone without talking to each other and he was seriously getting worried. getting back to his hotel for the night he laid down on his back holding his phone above his face. his phone was basically stuck on your contact card and that was the only form of you he had besides the endless albums of you in his photos or his rotating lockscreen picture.

he backed out of your contact and went to his brother’s reluctantly pressing the call button and waiting for him to answer. “what?” he spoke and sae was already rolling his eyes at his brother attitude. “can you check on y/n?” rin let out an annoyed sigh and sae could hear shuffling on his end of the phone. “y/n are you okay?” he heard you say yeah in the background confused then he heard more shuffling before rin spoke up again.

“she’s fine.” he was about to hang up but sae needed to ask, “why are you with y/n?” “we have dinner ever sunday together.” before any more questions could be asked rin hung up the phone leaving sae feeling more empty than he already was.

a month passed and now with him coming home he was excited to see you but he needed to win this game before going home to you.

you were sitting in your car outside of the stadium debating on whether or not you wanted to go in. you had never missed any of his home games and you didn’t want to start, you just kept going back to your argument. the night sae called rin, that was the only time he had ever come over to yours and sae’s apartment for dinner. you had spoken to him about what happened and even though him and his brother aren’t really that close he gave you good advice.

“sae is an asshole, that not a secret. he doesn’t think before he speaks and doesn’t think about the damage his words can cause. all I have to say is he has never called me for anything relatively important but he just called me to ask if you were okay. I can’t speak for him, he said what he said and now he’s paying the price for it. only speak to him when you are ready.” he ended with that before leaving.

last night when you unblocked his number all the messages and missed calls that you missed flowed through your phone all at once. tears prickled on your bottoms lash line reading all of his text messages. the last one had you crying yourself to sleep while hugging his pillow.

sae <3: this is the last message I’ll send tonight. tomorrow we’re coming back and I would love to see you. I know you are probably still upset with me and I would be too. I hurt the person I love so bad to the point where we haven’t spoken in a month. I miss you, I love you and if you come to the game and even though I’m we haven’t worked things out, if you wear my jersey tomorrow I’ll know that we’ll be okay. sweet dreams princess i love you.

he was right, you were still pissed but you missed sae, prior to the argument he’d been gone for a month already and that made you miss him so much more. the sheets didn’t smell like him anymore nor did his pillow. you wanted sae back but you weren’t going to make it easy for him. unzipping your jacket you slipped the long sleeve over your head then pulled down the mirror to fix your hair and makeup.

~

you sat in the VIP section in your normal seat playing on your phone until the game ended. everyone stood up leaving the area while you stayed put, you could see sae being interviewed by someone but because of the distance you couldn’t tell if he was actually paying attention which irked your nerves. he was always so rude to people whenever they interviewed him but went through with them because you asked.

a couple of minutes passed and once almost all the people were gone you noticed sae started to walk towards your direction so you stood up and walked down the steps stopping at the railings that was separating the two of you. “y/n…” he spoke stopping right infront of you, looking at him you kind of glared trying to hide how much you missed him. more silence filled his ears and out of defeat he dropped his head taking a deep breath.

suddenly a small quiet sniffle sounded and he looked back up with tears in his eyes. “I can’t lose you, I fucked up I know I did. if you want to punish me some more then do it but please stop ignoring me I physically can’t do it anymore, I can’t live without you.” standing there you looked at him in shock, he’s never cried before especially over something like this.

“meet me in the tunnel.” “no.” he quickly responded jumping up and climbing over the railing. he landed immediately taking you into his arms, you gasped at his action but ultimately wrapped your arms around him gently rubbing his back. for a quick second you could feel him shaking but you may have been imagining it.

he pulled back keeping his arms wrapped around you so that he could admire what he missed in these two months. “you look gorgeous, I love you princess.”

“I know you do, you and your 1,882 calls” he laughed awkwardly as you pressed a small kiss on his sweaty jawline smiling up at him. “I love you too.”

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 12

content warning: Miguel is very dramatic in this one, mentions of food

word count: 4k (SHOUTOUT TO MY BETA!! @slushycoookie 🩵)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

DISCLAIMER: This story is not canonical. 😒 Most, if not all, of the characters used are OOC. I literally can not stress this enough.

GymRat!Miguel who tries not to dwell on the fact that it’s been just about a month since he’s seen you. It’s the middle of the week and if he thinks about it too much, he’s going to go crazy.

It feels odd because you’re on the same campus as him. You’re not across the country. You’re not out of the country. You’re literally a short walk or drive away and neither of you have time to see each other.

He’s considering printing your pictures out and walking around with them like a forlorn lover looking for his lost soulmate. It feels like he’s back in his bedroom staring at your pictures for hours like a man at war aching for home.

He’s exhausted all of his options.

The couple-lunches have all been rain-checked, the weight of your workload trapping you in the Art building.

Your sleep schedule was terrible, if the late night TikToks and reels were anything to go by. He knew you had morning classes too so he could only assume you’ve had a few hours of sleep during the weeknights.

The weekends were for rest and he didn’t want to disrupt yours.

Your dorm tracked visitors which means he’d only have a few hours with you before curfew if you were even there.

GymRat!Miguel who misses you so bad he’s temporarily replaced his gym playlist for the one you gifted him.

His face is set hard, feet heavy as he sprints over a curved treadmill. After a few minutes he stops, takes a small break, and runs again.

Even the melodic and somber voice playing over a groovy piano couldn’t soothe his thoughts.

His heart rammed in his chest as sweat trickled down his face, his tank drenched and clinging to his chest.

Just a few more sprints to go.

GymRat!Miguel who slides the ear of his headphone off because Xina is standing in front of him, blocking his path.

“Anymore sprints and you’re going to pass out,” she hands him a towel.

“Maybe I want to,” Miguel grumbles, nabbing the towel and rubbing his face like someone spit on it.

Xina grabbed her ponytail and pinned it up, loose hair sticking to her neck. “Don’t say that. It’s not funny. I can only manage pulling your body to the entrance to the gym.”

Miguel snorted.

GymRat!Miguel who fills up the time that he used to spend with you to get to know his friends and meet others.

This meant having game nights with Peter and Ben. They were so close, not really, to convincing him to join their DND parties.

If he wasn’t with them, he was occasionally calling The Geek Squad and catching up. A Friendsgiving date was now tentatively on his calendar because of it.

Of course, his robotics team was still going steady. Aaron was interesting, if nothing else, and Margo was like the little sister he never had.

Then, there was checking up on Gabriel like a Tamagotchi. Was he eating ok? Did he need some money? Is he trapped in the subway? Did a rat eat him?

Gabriel had sent him a screenshot of his contact with his name being changed to “Mom #2.”

Miguel only scoffed and told Gabriel his name was going to get changed to “pain in my ass.”

The newest development, however, was Xina. Her transferring here felt like middle school when they used to be attached at the hip.

They had their programming class together two days out of the week, biweekly study sessions, and the occasional late night excursion.

It also explains why she’s eyeing him from the stairmaster while he heaves over the handles of the treadmill.

GymRat!Miguel who thanked Xina as she handed him his jug of water. He sat up from the bench to let her take a seat.

“So,” she started.

“I’m not helping you hack your professor’s dashboard. While you could do it, it’s not a good idea and quantum physics isn’t that-“

“It’s not that, you dick,” Xina pinched his side. “It’s you. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing is up with me.”

“Miguel.”

“Xina.”

“Now, you’re being a brat. Something is definitely wrong.”

Miguel picked at the peeling Game Over sticker on his bottle. He needed to tape it down or he’d lose it.

“I miss her.”

“Miss who? Your mom?”

“What? No. I miss my girlfriend.”

It was quiet between them, the sound of chatter and the clanking of equipment filled the white noise.

Xina tilted her head, “That bad?”

Miguel nods.

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

He takes a dramatic breath, “Our anniversary date. Last month. I feel…”

“Like you can’t function? Like it’s hard to think?”

“Is that pathetic?” Miguel winces. “I have a feeling you’re going to say that it is.”

“No, I don’t think that.”

Miguel pouts as he looks up. Xina shrugs and slides her hands on down her leggings.

“Remember the times I went boy crazy? All the times I came crying to you after they screwed me over, even when you already warned me they weren’t good guys? I think you deserve to be crazy about your girlfriend.”

“Thanks,” Miguel blinked. “You were way too nice to those first guys.”

“I learned though, didn’t I? I know a good guy when I see him, now,” Xina pushed at Miguel’s shoulders with hers.

“And now those self-defense lessons won’t go to waste, right?”

Xina snorted as she recalled the time she managed to flip Winston on his back at Miguel’s instruction.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Xina’s eyes grow in shock when he tells her how long he’s been dating you.

“Dang,” Xina stops in her tracks. “A year?”

Miguel puffs up his chest and stands a little straighter, a confident stride in his step, “One year and counting.”

“That’s,” Xina turns and waits for a car to go by. She readjusts her gym bag. “That’s awesome, Hare-Hare.”

GymRat!Miguel who feels the mood shift by the time he drops Xina back off. He’s not sure what’s brought it up, but now he’s nervous about upsetting her more.

He taps on the wheel, after he pulls into a park.

“You sure you don’t want me to get you anything? You don’t need to go anywhere?”

Xina unbuckles her seatbelt, “Nope. All good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” he watches her close the door before he can even finish. “See you.”

GymRat!Miguel who obliges when Xina texts him the next day to switch up their study session location.

Miguel wanted to keep the busy calm of the 1st floor of the library but Xina insisted on giving him a change of scenery.

“It’s good for you! You stare at the screen all day when you’re coding,” Xina slams Miguel’s car door to which he sneer at her for. “You need to look up and smell the coffee sometimes.”

“You just want a reason to not do your work.”

Xina turns around and walks backwards in front of Miguel, “And that’s completely fine. We should live a little.”

She trips over the edge of the sidewalk with a yelp and Miguel is quick to catch her, the panic on his face evident.

“See,” she grins as she pulls herself up by Miguel’s shoulders. “Living!”

GymRat!Miguel who lets Xina order for him while he finds a table.

The cafe was bright, white wood accenting the walls with vines and plants adorning the area. Salmon pink brought a pop of color to the sandy-looking tables and fairy lights hung in the corners of the room.

Miguel’s eyes grew as he saw the variety of desserts on display, his mouth itching to take a bite.

“No, no, no. Go away. I’ll pick something you’ll like,” Xina blocks Miguel’s lingering eyes.

Miguel clicks his teeth, “If it’s not good, I’m going to be really upset.”

“I doubt it.”

GymRat!Miguel who walks deeper into the cafe. He’s dodging ceiling plants left and right, but he’s sure that the best seats are in the furthest of the building.

He shuffles around a corner, eyes adjusting to the sun coming through window.

He blinks a few times and takes in the spacious area.

That’s when he sees you.

He walks fast, the strides of his steps wide.

The closer he gets, the stronger the smell of peaches builds. The sun was shining down like it granted Miguel one the greatest gifts of his life. Its rays danced across the spot that you're in.

He gets to your chair and pulled it out with ease, the sound disrupting the hushed corner.

A pen falls to the floor, voices are cut short, and arms are flailing but Miguel’s nose is buried deep into your neck.

Your arms tighten around his neck and your voice skips across his ears.

“I-” a kiss across your face, “missed you so much.” Miguel looks at you like you hold the stars in the sky within your palm.

“You scared the shit out of me, Miguel,” you say with no really malice in your voice. Your thumbs run across his cheeks, watching as he beams at you. You kiss him once or twice, heart fluttering as your feet dangle in the air.

“I hope there aren’t many people picking you up in the middle of establishments,” Miguel mumbled across your lips.

“Guys, there’s people staring at us,” a voice creeps in from the side of Miguel.

Miguel’s eyes follow it to see a deer-looking kid with hoodie pulled up over his ears.

“Who is this?”

GymRat!Miguel who is introduced to Miles, your freshman classmate that you’ve taken in.

He’s sitting across the table nodding along to you as you rave about Miles’ work. The entire time, his right hand didn’t leave your left one.

“So,” Miguel chimes in when there’s a pause. “Have you both been coming here a while?”

“Nah, I just dragged her out here recently. She never leaves the art building when a deadline is near. It’s kind of depressing-“

“You know, Miles.” You're holding back an eye roll. “There are times when you could just not talk.”

“No, actually tell me more,” Miguel insisted, attentive.

GymRat!Miguel who hurries to help a struggling Xina when she rounds the corner with a tray full of goodies.

A cinnamon roll, a lemon tart, a tall purple drink, and some warm tea is placed on the table while you and Miles clear the area.

You sit up straighter to watch Miguel pick up the tea cup and blow over it. “Tea? No milk with a pinch of coffee?”

“Amor…”

Xina looks over to his cup, “Did you want something else?”

“No, this is good, I haven’t had this in a while,” he takes a sip and hums while explaining to you. “I’ve been on this sweet drink kick since she let me try her frappe last year.”

“That’s rich because you always hated it when I got those.”

“To be fair, you downed like four of those in one day. I’m surprised your body didn’t go into shock.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “Four in one day must have meant you were going through it.”

Xina smiles and nods her head, “Exactly. And I told him-”

“We’re not doing this,” Miguel grumbled and stabbed his fork into his roll. “Four was way too much and she was bouncing off the walls all day just to crash and throw up on my shoes.”

“I said I was sorry about that!”

GymRat!Miguel who cuts pieces of his dessert to feed to you. You look at him incredulously as he insists on giving you bite after bite.

“Is it good?” Miguel asks chewing his own piece. You nod and he grins, happy in the bubble he’s created.

When Xina reaches for his plate for a piece he slides it away with ease, a move he knows too well.

“Why can’t I have some? I bought it.”

“You didn’t even ask!”

“Neither did she!”

Miles leans over to you, “I feel like I’m watching a fight between me and my baby sister.”

Miguel is pushing Xina’s hands away from his plate while she laughs up a storm. You think that it does mirror something like Gabriel and Miguel’s relationship, but something about Miguel isn’t the same.

GymRat!Miguel who continues his Tom and Jerry act with Xina even when the food is gone.

They were bickering over some formula that you couldn’t begin to figure out by yourself. To Miguel, it’s easy. To Xina, the setup makes no sense.

“How did you survive Ivy League without me?” Miguel asks as he reaches over and erases an error on her page.

“Like I do anything else, with peace.”

“So what you’re saying is,” Miguel points his pencil at Xina, “you hate me and I am not needed for problems 4 through 10.”

“No!” she panics, pushing his pen back to the paper. “I need you to start this one. I don’t understand it.”

“We just did one like this, though. It’s just the imaginary number all over again.”

Xina groaned and slumped in her chair while Miguel just turned back to his on work.

GymRat!Miguel who peers up from his computer to watch you work. You eyebrows pinch as your wrist moves across the large sketchpad in front of you. Your hand is moving fast and you’re so focused. Miguel hasn’t seen you like this before. In your element.

He leans his head on his hand, cheek squished and staring at you like he’s never seen you, like you were something to be admired.

You were pretty today, a sweater with some cartoon on it and some jeans that flared out at the bottom. Your bunny necklace was dangling around your neck and your glasses were falling down your nose.

You push them back and a smudge of charcoal from moving Miles’ artwork gets on your cheek.

“Stare at her any harder and she might grow something freaky,” Miles whispers.

Miguel falters and grabs a napkin, leaning to wipe your cheek, “She has something on her face.”

GymRat!Miguel who tries to be even more discreet as he watches you fill up the page. It’s mesmerizing seeing what you come up with.

He’ll type a little bit then look at your sketches, he’ll click a few links then look at your face. Sometimes, you would catch him looking and smile at resulting in his heart picking up.

Occasionally, Miles would ask your opinion on something and you would give him pointers, the two of you discussing something about focal points and rule of threes.

Miguel just wanted to put his stuff up and listen to you all day.

“What are you working on?” Xina asks, her voice breaking the silence. She’s staring directly at your drawings, fingers tapping against her notebook.

You perk up and flip your pad around, “It’s some ideas for one of our bigger projects! The theme is reinventing a classic, so I’m thinking something like a spin on Lady Godiva with a haunted theme and darker palette. Or The Fallen Angel with a bird’s eye perspective of him on the ground.”

You took a breath and flipped the page, “And then there’s The Kiss which I wanted to actually do a glaze to really give it that ‘mosaic’ look.”

Miguel leaned in with Xina to take a closer look.

The sketch was exceptional to say the least. Miguel wasn’t too sure how the original painting looked, but your drawing detailed a woman wrapped in these angular, moving shapes. Her face was angled up and a far-off look adorned her features. To her right sat a man whose lips were on her neck and his attention solely on her.

It was soft, yet strong. How you managed to put so much intimacy onto a single page was beyond him.

The feeling of it was familiar and when he looked up at you, he knew.

Miguel opens his mouth, “It’s..”

“Boring.”

“Beautiful.”

He turns to Xina with a frown on his face as she flips back to the front page.

“I mean, I think one of the other two is better, you know? More of a twist on the originals. The last one feels safe.”

The table is quiet as Xina’s comment marinates. She’s flipping further into your book and Miguel promptly snatches it from her and closes it a bit harder than he needs to. Miles shifts in his seat, chewing on the straw of his drink.

“Can you explain why it feels safe to you?” your fingers pick at a nail.

She looks up, “Well, don’t you want to stand out? Out of the others, I don’t think this one is that unique.”

“The point isn’t to stand out,” Miles chimes in. “The assignment is about remixing a classic and all three of these do that pretty well.”

Your smile is small, “Thanks, Miles.”

“So which one do you think is better?” Xina asks.

“The last one,” both Miles and Miguel say.

“It carries the emotion of the original while also bringing more focus to couple rather than the abstracted cloth. You can see the love between them in a way that the original doesn’t have and it’s not even painted yet,” Miles talks with ease. “But! That’s just my opinion.”

“I think it’s powerful,” Miguel hums. “You should go with that one.”

You nod, thumbing over the corner of the pages.

GymRat!Miguel who watches Miles nearly fly out of the cafe.

Something about catching the bus to go see a friend perform.

“Poor thing,” you mumble. “He didn’t even buy the tickets yet.”

GymRat!Miguel who can almost see the stress coming off of you in waves the later it gets in the evening.

“Are you alright?” Miguel places his hand over yours.

“Yeah, I think I need a nap.”

“Need me to drive you back?”

“No, it’s fine. You need to drive Xina back.” You start to pack up. “I brought my car anyways.”

Miguel follows your movements, hands putting his laptop up as well.

He hurries to pull your chair out and you thank him with a quiet voice. He follows you from the table to the door to your car. The scene is almost comical the way he’s in your peripheral.

“Will I see you again soon?” Miguel leans on the hood of your car, body practically falling onto you in the driver’s seat. “We gotta set up a date.”

“I’ll see what I can do, baby,” you rub his face and kiss the kicked-puppy look off of his face. “I’ll text you once I get back.”

“Please.”

GymRat!Miguel who throws his backpack in the backseat and slumps over the wheel once he’s certain your car was down the road.

“What now?” Xina patted Miguel’s back. “You miss her again?”

Miguel just dug his head onto the horn, the effect alerting anyone within 50ft radius.

“Ok, ok,” Xina yanked him up by his shoulders only for him to drop back down again. She sighs and grabs the back of his head with a slight yank to his hair.

Miguel swats her hand away with a grit to his teeth and a pinch to his brows.

Xina only holds her hands up with a grin lining her lips, “Calm down.”

“You’re really annoying me today.”

Xina drops her hands and her smile falters. Miguel straightens up with an apology on the roof of his mouth before Xina picks back up with joy.

“What I think you need is an awesome rager for your birthday.”

“No.”

“Why not? It could be fun!”

“I’m all partied out until next year.”

“Not even with your friends? People from your department? A couple of classmates? The robo nerds?”

“That’s robo rockstars to you.”

Xina laughed and buckled her seatbelt.

“I think it could be great, seriously. We’re doing it.”

Miguel only groaned and turned on the ignition.

GymRat!Miguel who wanted to use his Sunday for relaxation, a cheat day, maybe a game or two with Gabriel, Peter, and Winston.

Instead, he’s lying on his bed listening to Xina rant about one of her roommates using the sink as a trash can.

“Like we have a ridiculously expensive trash can that’s less than a foot away from the sink. It’s a simple spin and drop.”

“Ok, I get this is really gross, but don’t you have other friends you could bother?”

Xina pauses, and points her finger at him, “Hey, I’m here to help you out. If I wasn’t here, who knows how down in the dumps you’d be.”

“This isn’t helping me.”

GymRat!Miguel who answers his phone while Xina has managed to pull Peter into a game of Overcooked on his Switch.

“Hey, Ma.”

“Miguel! How do I connect your father’s computer to the TV? He found a movie that we could watch but the screen is so small.”

“He found a movie but can’t connect cords?”

“Just answer the question, mijo.”

Miguel sits up, prepared to spend at least forty minutes trying to explain what an HDMI cord is.

“Yeah.”

Xina gasps, pauses the game leaving a displeased Peter, and hops into the corner of Miguel’s phone.

“Hi, Mrs. O’Hara!”

“Hola, mi dulce niña! Hace mucho que no te veo. ¿Que tal te ha ido?“ (Hello, my sweet girl! I haven’t seen you in a long time. How have you been?)

“Más o menos, pero me alegro de verte.” (So-so, but I’m happy to see you.)

“No, Xina! ¿Qué tienes?” (What’s wrong?)

Miguel just plopped the device in Xina’s hand, “I like how you both started a conversation on my phone.”

“We’ve got important things to discuss,” Xina waved him off while she and his mother continued to fawn over each other.

Miguel just slid off the bed and joined Peter.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t get his phone back until curfew hours are around the corner.

Xina and his mom discussed everything from reality TV to recipes to her time up north. Xina left happier than when she came in which Miguel didn’t mind. He just wished he could have had the room to himself.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t see your message until he’s about to go to sleep.

“Baby”

“Let’s do something together on your bday”

Miguel unpeeled his eyes and typed swiftly.

“YES”

“YEESSSS”

“Best birthday ever already”

“Someone’s excited”

“I haven’t even said what we’re doing yet”

“What are we doing”

“Tell me please”

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease”

“Mmm”

“No”

“It’s a secret 🙂‍↔️”

“I can wait”

“That you are”

“Sometimes”

“😗”

“But mi luz I think Xina is trying to plan something too”

“Oh”

“Should we raincheck then?”

“NOOOOOO!”

“I can do both”

“I’ll literally split myself in two”

“You don’t have to choose”

“My gift is small”

“I want you to have fun on your special day”

“Can you come to the party?”

“I don’t want to miss it but I’ll have to see”

“If anything it’ll be much later”

“As long as I get to see you I’ll be happy”

“Good night bebé”

“Night!”

"Love you"

“Love you more"

divider by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: I have no notes other than school is starting back up so my posting schedule will be even more irregular. 🤠 Please bear with me.

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[strangersteddierthings]

The Interview

Inspired by this post by @xoxoladyaz. Read on Ao3.

-

Eddie wakes up to one single missed call from Gareth on his private phone.

No one calls his private phone.

He dials back instantly.

"Hey Eddie," Gareth greets. He sounds tired.

"What's up? What's happened?" Eddie asks, a thousand and one scenarios running through his mind. Gareth is in Indianapolis, and Eddie's thoughts are filled with only his uncle back in Hawkins.

"Nothing's happened that we can't deal with, or rather, that I've already been dealing with. But, uhh, there's an interview you should watch. Let me send you a link-" there's a pause as Gareth does just that "-and just call me back after you've watched it. I know we usually ignore the shit people say about us but this- it's different."

"Okayyyy," Eddie says slowly. "I'll watch it."

They hang up without goodbye because Eddie's just going to call him back after the video. Opening his messages he sees the link, and then Gareth sent a follow up text you need to watch from 12:32 onward.

The video is nearly two weeks old already, and YouTube shows him a face he knows. Robin Buckley looks older but it's definitely her. Her hair isn't styled much differently than she had it in high school, just above her shoulders and a little wild. She's wearing a three piece suit in emerald green, slightly oversized on purpose by the look of it. She's sitting in a chair, cradling a grammy with one arm, as the interviewer sits across from her.

Eddie taps the screen and drags the progress bar closer to the 12-minute mark and listens. He hears the tail end of Robin's response to some question about her album before the interviewer asks what must be the question Gareth wants him to listen to.

'So, I think everyone is dying to know if you and Eddie Munson are friends. You're both from Hawkins, Indiana. Isn't that correct?' the interviewer asks.

Robin's smile slips a bit, 'I- uhh, this is going to be unprofessional of me but I made a promise to someone regarding if I was ever asked about Eddie Munson. So, can I have one minute to make a phone call before I answer your question?'

'Oh. By all means, make your call.'

Eddie watches as Robin is brought her phone by someone who is probably her personal assistant. She wastes no time in unlocking it and finding whoever in her contacts list.

'No time for formalities. I've been asked about Munson. Can I tell the truth?' Robin's mic isn't strong enough to pick up whatever answer she gets on the phone but she shakes her head to whatever answer she's been given. 'I told you, I love you more than this career and I've already got the grammy. I'll handle the fallout. It's not about me. It's about you.' What follows is a few seconds of silence before Robin nods and says goodbye, ending the call and passing the phone back to the PA.

The interviewer's eyebrows are up to her hairline in shock. 'That sounds ominous. You think it's career ending?'

Robin grins and it's almost feral. 'Corroded Coffin's fans have always been ruthless, and perhaps a bit heartless, so what I have to say will certainly set them on the attack. To answer your original question, yes, Eddie Munson and I are from Hawkins. We even shared band class in high school, but that's the end of what connects us. We are not friends, but we once were.'

'Can you elaborate on that?'

'Our friendship ended ten years ago when he ruined my best friend's life for fame and fortune, and Steve's never really known a day of peace since.'

Eyes wide, the interviewer leans closer, 'Steve? As in, Hey Steve, Steve?'

Robin nods, 'Just the one.'

'Are you prepared to talk about how one song ruined your friend's life?'

'That was the purpose of the phone call. Yes, I think people should know the truth. Munson vented his bullshit breakup rage into a song and fucked off out of town. A week after its release, his fans doxxed Steve. He wasn't out to his parents, you see, and Corroded Coffin's fans, Eddie Munson's fans, outed him. They sent hate mail to his house by the ton, it seemed. The fallout from that- the aftermath-' Robin cuts off as her eyes water and she swipes at them, smearing some mascara across her cheek. 'I'm sorry. I almost lost my best friend, the platonic love of my life, that day.

'It's public knowledge, what happened, you can look it up online if you know what to look for. But it is also so incredibly personal. I want to be the one to say this because it's important. What you do in life, it has consequences, and sometimes those consequences are for other people. Whether you think it will, or not. I'd rather people hear it from a human voice, from someone who loves Steve, and not the journalist view. No offense,' Robin shoots the interviewer a sweet smile.

'None taken, please continue.'

'Steve was hospitalized, I won't give the details,' Robin says, in a watery voice as she's clearly trying to not cry at the memory. 'When Steve was finally released from the hospital, there was no one but me to pick him up. And he's going through this while nursing a broken heart. He and Munson had only been broken up for maybe a month before Hey Steve came out.

'In less than two months, Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. And to top it off, that man gets to become rich and famous off a venomous, hate-filled song about their breakup. It talks about Steve like he's coward for not willing to be out, yet, and how... what's the line, about conformity?'

'Conformity holds your leash, baby, so run to the end of your chain and bark,' someone off camera shouts.

'Yes, that, thanks. Accusing Steve of picking 'conformity' over his love. Steve wasn't picking conformity, he was picking safety! And the worst part? The hate mail has never stopped. Steve lived with me and my family for a few months after getting out of the hospital before the hate mail got too much, and someone showed up at my childhood home, looking for him, threatening him. They had a gun. It was traumatic. I was still in my senior year of high school-' Robin cuts off, taking deep breaths.

The interviewer reaches across to place a comforting hand on Robin's, 'I can't even imagine what that must have been like.'

Once Robin has composed herself, she says, 'sorry, this is a lot. I've had ten years to come to terms with it, and I've waited seven for someone to ask me about Munson. I didn't think it would be this hard.

'And it's not- I can't blame Munson, or Corroded Coffin, for everything that happened. He doesn't control his fans. But he's never said anything about the treatment his fans give Steve. And if they're like this towards Steve, are they like this towards all his other ex's? Does Munson not care, or, almost worse, does he not even know?' she stops again, getting a faraway look for a moment before looking at the interviewer again. 'I had to help Steve move again. Just last month. They're still finding him. Sending him hate. Doxxing him.' Now she looks at the camera directly, "Eddie Munson. Call off your fans. Stop playing Hey Steve at concerts. Isn't a decade of hurt enough?'

There isn't a lot that makes Eddie feel anything these days, he'll admit. A decade of fame has made him a bit cynical and callus. However, Robin had said something that made his insides squirm. He swipes across the screen, rewinding the video to hear Robin say Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. -ents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. The man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. Marry one day.

He pauses the video. That can't be right. That has to be a lie Robin is adding. To garner more sympathy or make Eddie, and therefore Corroded Coffin, look worse. Steve and he had been young and naive when they'd dated. There was no way they'd have ended up married, even if Eddie had stuck around Hawkins longer. Gay marriage wasn't even legal when they broke up in 2013.

Eddie unpauses, skips forward to the end and listens to Robin speak directly to him. Stop playing Hey Steve? The song that rocketed Corroded Coffin into the limelight? No way. And call off his fans? Like they're dogs he's supposed to control or something. The video ends and the YouTube algorithm shows him a number of react videos. Eddie clicks on one and falls down the rabbit hole.

At first the algorithm shows him responses in his favor. Videos made by his fans defending him, or strategically picking apart what Robin had said. Eddie wants to agree with them, he doesn't think he's done anything wrong other than live his life, but then.

Then a video of a guy wearing merch sold during their tour last year plays. He's on the right side of the video while a screen recording is on the left. It takes him less than five minutes to get Steve's past addresses found. And Eddie is... well, he's a little horrified at how long the list is. At the short amount of time Steve's spent in any one place is.

The guy in the video reads out the state, city, and how long Steve lived at each address. The longest one is when Steve made the jump from Florida to Maine, where he lived for 19 months according to the video, and that was years ago.

And then the guy, he fucking starts to speculate about where Steve might have moved to next.

"We can't know for sure, but it looks like he headed back west? You can see from the last 3 addresses he's been just jumping state lines to the next place. I'm guessing Oklahoma, Kansas or Nebraska next. If Steve thinks he can try and ruin Corroded Coffin through Robin Buckley, then it's up to us to prove him wrong," the guy is saying, and Eddie thinks maybe this guy is just exaggerating but the comment section is already filled with other people saying vile shit about what they should send to Steve or what they'd like to do to him physically and-

Eddie clicks off the video, to the next recommended. The more he watches, the angrier they seem to get. He goes to the search bar and looks for new react videos.

He finds that everyone has an opinion. He watches videos where his own fans express their disappointment in him. They talk about how Corroded Coffin runs an antibully campaign and then allows their fans to bully an ex and for not calling out the ones doxxing people, wanting to know which was the reason - does Eddie not know, or does he not care? Eddie didn't know. Truly. But he can't help but wonder if he didn't know because he didn't care.

He'd written all his feelings into a song, and now that he's older, he can see that a lot of what he was feeling is an exaggeration and dramatization of what really happened. But the point is, he'd written out his feelings and moved on.

The man he thought he'd marry one day.

His stomach twists uncomfortably as Robin's voice rings in his mind.

He continues his spiral down YouTube until Gareth calling him again breaks through and he answers.

"How is this the first time I'm hearing about Robin's interview?" Eddie demands.

"You've got a damn good PR team, that's how. I guess you fell down the rabbit hole, then?"

"How'd you-"

"Is been almost 4 hours since we talked. Doesn't take that long to watch a 30 minute video."

"Oh. Alright. So, why did you want me to watch the video? Am I supposed to respond to Robin?"

"No. People don't actually want to hear from you. They want to hear from Steve. And that's why you needed to watch. 'Cause Robin's announced that Steve's finally ready to make a statement. Robin's going to post it on her Twitter. Tonight. So, we've got to be ready. If anything Robin said turns out to be true, we might have a problem on our hands. A slander lawsuit being just the beginning."

"Fuck."

"What a way to sum it up," Gareth chuckles into the phone before his tone becomes serious, "hey, how are you doing, though? With it all?"

He thinks about it, and how he really feels, before answering. "It's been years since I've thought about Steve, y'know? I... I've had that luxury. I didn't know.... Did you?"

"No. Hell no! I'd of said something. I mean, shit man, we run an antibully campaign 'cause high school was shit to us. If I'd known at all we'd have been telling them to fuck off. Harassment's just what they call bullying adults."

Eddie swallows. "Guess we just have to wait and see what Stevie has to say."

"I'd come sit on the couch with you and refresh twitter frantically but, well, Indy's a bit of a ways off. I'll call after Robin's posted, then?"

"Yeah, man. Let's see the damage," Eddie sighed. "Talk to ya later."

"Bye."

Eddie digs out his laptop and pulls up Robin's twitter page. He adds an auto-refresher extension and sets it to refresh every minute before opening his phone and pulling up YouTube again.

[mysticfalls01]

Princesa

(FC Barcelona x reader)

Ona moved to Manchester United to get more minutes and to learn a new style of playing to eventually seek the opportunity to join Barcelona back.

On her first day after the diplomatic signing protocol, it was time to meet her new teammates.

Her new teammates were still in the pitch after having finished their training session. While she was greeting and getting to know everyone the academy players starting training. Immediately her eyes went to the academy’s player with the number 12, y/n l/n. She saw the smile on your face and your natural skills for the game, even if it was only a practice session she could see your talent.

The academy trained after the first team so every day she saw you training, she knew that Manchester’s playing style wouldn’t let your skills develop to their full potential and she knew that she had to do something about it.

After three months in MU, and after doubting if she should do it, she sent her national teammate, Alexia Putellas a text in which she talked about you, your skills, your playing style and about how your true potential wouldn’t be reached if you stayed in Manchester.

When Alexia received that message, she knew that you must be special, she knew that Ona wouldn’t have risked sending her that text if you weren’t. She asked Ona to find out the academy’s calendar so a Barcelona scout could go to see you play.

You loved playing football and you wanted to train even more time than the scheduled time with the academy so after asking for permission you were able to join the first team training sessions thrice a week.

As soon as you met Ona the click happened. She took you under her wing. As time passed, she subtly started teaching you some Spanish phrases.

Barcelona’s scouting team were delighted with you after seeing some of your games, they realized that what Ona told Alexia was true.

When your season with the academy ended, they contacted your parents as you didn’t formally have an agent. When you learned about their proposal you immediately knew who had “recommended” you.

The next time you saw Ona, you asked her about it and all she said with a smile was “Well nena, I might have sent someone a text.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

After MU accepted Barcelona’s offer for you you asked Ona travel with you during the summer to Barcelona so you could settle down.

After helping you to settle down in your new apartment she presented you to her family as her new “hermanita”. Her family immediately saw why Ona had “fallen” for you and told you that if you ever needed help with anything to contact them.

Before Ona had to leave Barcelona to full fill the second year of her contract, she gave you Alexia’s number. “Hermanita, if you need help with anything make sure to contact Ale. She already knows that I’m giving you her number so don’t worry about it.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Moving to a new apartment and in a new city with only 17 was scary so when the first day of training with your new team finally arrived you sent Alexia a text.

“Hola Alexia it’s y/n, Ona gave me your number. I was wondering if you could pick me up to take me to the training session.” “Hola y/n! No problem, Ona gave me your direction, so I’ll be there in 15 minutes”

When Alexia met you, she felt the need to protect you, to guide you.

She gave you a tour of the clubs’ installations, gave you tips and helped you in any way possible. If anyone for any reason was rude to you, they were quickly met with Alexia’s glare, everyone realized that you were under her protection.

The team loved you, when they learned about you joining them, they were a bit skeptical about it but after seeing some of your highlights with MU academy they realized why you were joining them.

Bruna, Jana and you quickly became the chaotic trio. Patri and Claudia became your annoying older sisters. Mapi, Leila, Jenni and Mariona your crazy/cool aunts while Frido and Ingrid became your sane aunts. Aitana became your best friend even with the age gap and Alexia your team mom.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Being homesick was the worst feeling ever. Alexia quickly noticed that you were feeling down and she took matters in her hands.

Alexia invited you over to her and Olga’s apartment. She asked Olga to buy some fish and chips for dinner.

After training Alexia took you to her apartment, shyly you greeted Olga and the dinner started. You realized that you were going to eat fish and chips, you knew that it was Alexia’s way to comfort you even if it was with the most stereotypical British dish her intentions really warmed your heart.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A few months later the fans gave you the nickname of “La Princesa” not only because of your skills but also because someone did compilation video of moments between you and your teammates where Alexia babied you, Mapi got angry with a defender who had tackled you too hard, Frido was rubbing her sunscreen on your face before practice, a video where you asked for Ingrid’s help for your math’s homework and many other moments. Obviously, the video went viral, and you gained a new nickname.

You still FaceTimed Ona every day and in each talk, you told her about your every day in Barcelona. You couldn’t wait for her to join back the team.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

After a team bonding session at a restaurant, you were exhausted so Ale and Olga took you back to your apartment. Olga waited in the car while Ale carried to your apartment and used her spare key to open the door.

She changed you into your pijamas and tucked you into your bed. Before she left and closed the door, she gave you a kiss on your forehead and you sleepily mumbled “Bona nit mama”

When Ale heard those words, she couldn’t help but to grin and said “Bona nit filla” (good night daughter)

When she arrived back to her car she told Olga. “Amor, y/n just called me mama”

“How wonderful Ale, I know that you already see her as your daughter and took her under your wing. It seems that after all y/nn really is la princesa de Barcelona” Olga said before giving Ale a soft kiss.

"Amor, please remind to send Ona a thank you text"

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Part 2

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Best Kept Secret on the Grid || Part Two

GR, CL, MV, LH x fem!reader Warnings: angsty drivers, more filth (masturbation, smut) WC: 3k F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three

“Oh my word, what is going on?” David Croft, the official F1 commentator, was aghast at what he was seeing on the track in front of him and his voice echoed across the paddock from the loudspeakers. “This is looking like a repeat of Australia and nobody wants to see that again.”

You slunk down in your seat and pulled your hat further down your head. Maybe sending those nudes hadn’t been the best idea. It had been four weeks since the last race and to say you were feeling needy was a massive understatement. You hadn’t been able to stop yourself from sending your men some enticing pictures before the race.

“And there goes Gasly, into the gravel. We’ll have to see the replay on that but I think it was his own teammate that made contact with him. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it was Alpine on Alpine going into the corner and now Gasly will have a lot of time to make up for it. Ocon will be lucky if he doesn’t get a penalty for that aggressive move.”

You looked at the place board and saw the seven drivers who had already retired from the turbulent race. Max was one of them, and he was pissed.

You shoved the phone back in your purse and cheered with the rest of the grandstand as Lewis passed by, holding first position with 12 laps to go. Right on his tail was Charles but the real battle was taking place behind him for the third step on the podium. 

It was a dog fight between Fernando, Esteban and Lando with less than a second separating each car. You screamed louder than anyone else as they shot past the lap line and a few heads turned your way but you ignored them. You weren’t even in bed and these guys were making you scream. 

Another lap passed without incident but then the fight for third took a dangerous turn when Lando pushed Fernando wide and Esteban tried to take advantage by slipping past on the inside. Fernando ended up grazing his car along the wall while Lando thought he was in the clear only to clip the front wing of Esteban’s car and the two of them careened off the track. 

Shock rippled through the crowd as another three cars were retired and their drivers were pulled apart by the marshalls that were trying to clear the track under a red flag. It was messy and you could almost taste the testosterone in the charged atmosphere.

“I don’t even have words to describe this race,” David commented. “That will be the third restart and what a change that makes to the standings. We have Hamilton in P1, Leclerc P2, Stroll P3, followed by Sainz, Russell, Gasly, then miraculously both Williams’ and AlphaTauri’s drivers are almost guaranteed those much needed but elusive points - if they can just stay on the track and cross the finish line in one piece.”

You couldn’t sit and listen to the spectators around you any longer. They all asked variations of the same question - what the hell had happened to the drivers? Blue balls was the answer. That’s what had happened after four weeks with no racing: all those explosive male hormones were building and building, and your nudes had struck the match.

You had been messaging most of the guys over the mid-season break, exchanging scandalous messages and promises of what they could do the next time they were on the podium, but you had stopped short of meeting up with any of them - no matter how much they begged. Your pussy hated you for denying it the pleasure but the waiting only increased the anticipation and made the climax all the better. 

Plus the teasing was fun.

You slipped out of the grandstand and made your way to the motorhomes behind another fence for security. Ever since that first wild night you had received a Paddock Pass for every race and become a familiar face to the teams, though they never knew the extent of your ‘friendships’ with the drivers. 

“Max isn’t here,” Tommy said just as you reached the door to the luxurious motorhome. 

You winked at the Red Bull assistant and pressed a finger to your lips. “I’m just leaving him a commiseration gift. It’s a surprise, so no blabbering.”

The busy man left with a shake of his head and you closed the door behind you, sliding the bolt into place so no unexpected visitors could interrupt you. 

Max’s bed was made with the precision you would expect from someone trained in the military, not a racer, and there wasn’t a single crease in the duvet cover. 

“You’re such a perfectionist,” you muttered before jumping onto the bed and messing it up. His scent still clung to the pillow and you grabbed it as you rolled onto your knees, shoving it between your legs before hiking your dress up to your waist. 

You grabbed your phone and set it up against the headboard as you hit record. “I’m going to miss you tonight, Maxy.” You sucked on your fingers before trailing them down your body and pushing your panties aside. “It could’ve been you I was riding.” 

You moaned as you ground yourself shamelessly over your fingers and his pillow. Your head fell back and you grabbed your throat, gently squeezing it as your eyes fluttered shut. 

“Oh, Max,” you cried out, rolling your hips faster until the wet sounds of your pussy filled the air and were definitely picked up by the microphone. “You’re going to dream of me tonight when you lay your head on this pillow. It’s going to make you so hard, you’re going to fuck your hand and imagine it’s my cunt squeezing you tight until you explode.”

Your words ignited the orgasm that had been building and you cried out as you came all over his pillow. Your body shuddered from the aftershocks and you tasted the release on your fingers, knowing it would drive him wild when he saw it. “Sweet dreams, Maxy.”

You made it back to the grandstand in time to see the final lap and you were on your feet screaming with the rest of the crowd as Lewis crossed the finish line first, soon followed by Charles and Carlos. You were giddy at the thought of sharing the three of them later and joined the mass of people as they began to make their way down to the track that was opening to the public.

You were well versed at having to push your way through the crowd and you knew you had time to get to the front since the winners were still on the big screen having their post-race interviews. You were only half listening to them as you inched your way closer to the stage. 

“There was a very competitive atmosphere out there today, why do you think that was?”

Carlos and Charles looked at each other before looking down to hide the knowing grin they shared but it was Lewis that answered the interviewer.

“I mean first and foremost it is a race, so it will always be competitive. But, I think, for me at least, it’s been a long four weeks off the track and we were all eager to get back behind the wheel and more importantly back on the podium.” 

“Speaking of podiums, it looks like our time is up.” He shook hands with Lewis, then Charles and Carlos. “Congratulations once again. Well deserved.”

You reached the front barricade as the guys climbed the stairs to the stage up above and their eyes scanned the crowd knowing you were somewhere among the throngs. Carlos spotted you first and slapped Charles’ chest before pointing your way. You blew them a kiss and gave them a wink, their smiles growing as they stepped closer to the glass balustrade. You crossed your arms and to anyone else it would have been an innocent gesture but from their vantage point it pushed your breasts to the very edge of your low cut dress. 

Your phone vibrated in your purse and since you weren’t all that interested in the national anthems playing you pulled it out. Your scoff was swallowed by the sound of the crowd and you searched the shadows around the cordoned off areas to find Max staring back. Even with the distance you could see the harsh cut of his jaw as he clenched his teeth and his arms were crossed defensively over his chest. 

You didn’t even bother to address the message he had sent, instead you replied with the video you had taken in his bed. You watched with a keen interest as he reached into his jeans and pulled out his phone. 

Blue eyes turned to black as his pupils dilated and he ran a hand through his hair, tugging the dirty blond strands while he fisted his phone on the other. His thumbs flew across the keyboard as he typed his response before turning his back and leaving the celebration while you started at the reply.

You're going to pay for that.

Mummy don't know daddy's getting hot At the body shop, doing something unholy

The heat on the dance floor was quickly soaring as hands roamed your body. Charles’ entire front was pressed against your back and controlled the sway of your hips to the music as his lips grazed your neck and he whispered filthy words for only you to hear. 

He wasn’t alone.

Lewis and Carlos’ bodies encircled you, obscuring your obscene display of affection from the dense crowd dancing to the music too. They were taking advantage of the disorienting strobe lights and the fact everyone else was in a drunken world of their own, it was daring even for them.

Charles pinned your hands behind your back, trapping them between your bodies, as Lewis stepped closer and used his thigh to push your legs apart. Cool air rushed in and kissed the heat of your pussy as your skirt rode up higher the more Lewis nudged your thighs apart.

“Hermosa,” Carlos groaned as he noticed the lack of lace panties beneath. “You forgot something when you were getting ready.”

You licked your lips and leaned back against Charles so your dress pulled up even higher and Lewis cursed lowly. 

“I didn’t forget anything.”

And when you want it, baby, I know I got you covered And when you need it, baby, just jump under the covers

Your cry was swallowed by the chorus as they descended on you. 

Carlos’ fingers were at your entrance, gathering the evidence of your need and using it to glide over your clit while Lewis and Charles left burn marks on your neck from the short beards they sported. Their hands cupped and squeezed and probed until you were lost to the overwhelming sensations and ready to float away like the clouds of dry ice around the room. 

“Unless you’re planning to fuck me on the dance floor, we need to go.”

“The idea has crossed my mind,” Charles admitted between sucking at the sensitive skin below your ear. 

“Time to go,” Lewis ordered before you could reach for his belt buckle, the only one out of the three men capable of using his head to think with and not his dick.

Carlos pouted as he pulled your dress back into place but he knew it would be coming off in a matter of minutes when he got you upstairs. 

The music drifted away as the elevator doors closed in the lobby and Charles pushed you back into Lewis’ arms. “Don’t let her move,” he warned as he dropped to his knees.

Carlos’ hand slapped over your mouth in time to smother the moan that was ready to fill the small elevator when Charles’ tongue teased over your clit. You squirmed as you tried to roll your hips, silently begging for more, but Lewis curled a strong arm around your waist and pinned you to his body. 

The floor levels ticked by and the higher they rose the closer you got to heaven. 

Everywhere you looked you were blessed with the sight of the men around you and their infinite reflections in the mirrored walls. Even when your head fell back in ecstasy you swayed under the image on the ceiling, spying Charles’ eyes that rolled up to look at you coming undone over his tongue.

Ding!

Charles rose swiftly to his feet, pulling your dress back into place before the doors opened and a body filled the doorway. He already knew what had happened from the dazed look in your eyes and the way Lewis had to support your unsteady legs by holding you against him.

“What the fuck, Max?” Carlos asked as he stepped in front of you, Charles too busy wiping his lips to speak.

You wouldn’t say you were shocked to see him somehow get your room number from the receptionist - he was a world champion - no one would say no to him, even if it was a breach of privacy. You actually found his tenacity extremely hot, that and the way he stood blocking the exit with fire in his eyes. 

“Mate, move out of the way,” Lewis said as he shifted you into Charles’ arms, though your legs were no longer trembling.

Max ignored them all and held your stare. “What’s my number, babygirl?”

You shook your head to try and clear the haze that your orgasm and the champagne had brought upon you but it didn’t work and you asked him confused, “What?”

“What. Is. My. Race. Number?” he asked, taking a step closer with each enunciation.

“One?”

“Good girl, that’s correct.” Max smirked as he came to a stop in front of Lewis and looked at you over his shoulder. “I think that means I won.”

“That’s bullshit, you DNF’d get over it,” Charles stated, knowing well enough the pain of missing out on a night with you because he crashed out earlier in the season. 

“Wait,” you said, stepping between the four of them. “What if he’s right? What if the reigning champ can have me whenever they choose, off-track too?” You circled around the group seeing them contemplating it. “After today's race standings you all have a shot at winning the championship.”

“Hang on,” Max interrupted but you held up a finger to your lips to silence him.

“My body, my rules. So, what d’ya say boys?”

Lewis, Carlos and Charles looked at each other for a moment before Lewis’ lips parted in a grin. “I’m up for the challenge.”

“Did you not see how fucking messy it was out there today?” Max asked, stunned by the turn of events.

“Fuck it, I’m in,” Carlos chuckled before looking at his team mate. 

“Max is right, it’s going to be an expensive season for repairs,” Charles said with a shake of his head before locking eyes with you and starting to smile, “but it’s not my money. I’m in.”

You walked out of the elevator, patting Max’s hard chest as you passed by. “This is what you wanted, big guy. Now, are you coming, or do you want to brood in the hallway all night?”

It was no surprise that he came, and came, and came again. 

All of the men were athletes and the stamina showed when they were ready to go round after round. You were an overstimulated mess when you collapsed on the sofa, a sheen of sweat coating your skin. You could barely think with your head on cloud nine and their cum leaking down your legs.

“Our little cum slut is cock drunk,” Max teased as he took a seat beside you and pulled your head onto his lap. “You have another round in you, don’t you, babygirl?”

The sofa shifted as Carlos sat down at the other end, his strong hands starting to massage your feet. “Let her rest for a minute.”

“Just because you have nothing left,” Max scoffed and turned your head to him. His thumb traced your swollen lips with a smirk before parting your mouth. “Some of us can go all night. Right, Hamilton?”

Lewis barely lifted his head up from where he lay sprawled across the carpet, his chest rising and falling fast as he caught his breath. He had absolutely ruined you with the fast pace he had set while he knelt behind you and fucked you until you couldn’t hold yourself up any longer. Charles had been there to keep you up on your hands and knees with a fist full of your hair, right before he filled your mouth with his cock to silence the screams of pleasure.

All Lewis could do was raise his thumb in response as Charles returned to the living room with an armful of water bottles from the minibar. He tossed one to each of the guys before kneeling beside your head and cracking the lid of another and raising it to your lips. The cool liquid quickly soothed your dry throat and chased away some of the exhaustion that had settled into your relaxed muscles. 

“Better, hermosa?” Carlos asked as his massage crept higher up your legs.

“Mhmm,” you sighed contentedly, letting your knees part for him. The temperature in the room rose rapidly and even Lewis found the strength to rise from the ground to drink in the sight. You might as well have just hung an open for business sign out and you chuckled at the hungry looks they shared. “Much better.”

Click here for part three.

Tagging: @slytherheign @alwaysclassyeagle

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined-----------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5, ch 6, ch 7, ch 8, ch 9, ch 10, ch 11, ch 12

MDNI-----------------------------------------------------------------

pairings: aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid

summary: in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest, youngest member

warnings: mentions of wet dream, fantasying of 2 guys, oral f receiving, praise, probably more im not sure

A/N: hope you beautiful humans enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3

also requests are still open for aaron hotchner and spencer reid & i would love love to write more so shoot me something :)

haappppy readingggg!

chapter eleven:

With a weary slump of her shoulders, Evelyn followed in Hotch's wake, her feet dragging the ground as though shacked by invisible weights. Her eyelids were heavy, drooping in a slow cadence, fighting the lull of sleep that beckoned with each laboring blink. Her lips parted in a slow, drawn-out motion that mirrored the sluggishness of her body. The latte sat in her hand, a supposed ally against the drowsiness, but her yawns betrayed its ineffectiveness as her eyes grew heavier still. The trip had been a marathon of activity--packing, the airport, the plane--all leading to a touchdown in Somerville just as the sun began to rise.

On the way over, Hotch had briefed her on the details of the case. A couple weeks ago, a polyamorous couple--two older men, and their shared partner, a younger woman--were found dead. Then, two days ago another household with the same victimology were killed. The coincidence wasn't lost on Evelyn as her mind wandered to that god forsaken dream that had haunted her since.

And on top of that, throughout the trip, Hotch's silence was a wall between them, broken only by the case details. Despite herself, Evelyn tried to profile him knowing it was wrong. Evelyn replayed the hot tub scene in her mind, a pang of guilt twisting in her gut. She couldn't shake the feeling that she'd crossed a line, even if it was unintentional... right? Her head was a battlefield of jumbled thoughts and creeping doubts, all clamoring for attention. She blamed the fog in her brain on the lack of sleep.

 Evelyn, under the weight of Hotch's intent gaze, gave way to a yawn so extravagantly drawn out it seemed less a sign of fatigue and more a playful challenge to his enduring patience.

"Stop staring; it's too early for judgment," Evelyn murmured, her eyes slits of defiance as she ambled after him towards the station. "This is just my face before the caffeine kicks in. It gets better, I promise."

Hotch offered no reply, merely casting a glance over his shoulder at her. The warmth of their close encounter in the hot tub enveloped his thoughts, an unwelcome yet intoxicating recollection. He wrestled with the memory, a guilty pleasure, even as he held the door open for her. Yet, he steeled himself, shoving those dangerous reflections to the back of his mind, all too conscious of the professional boundaries that he dared not to cross.

"Okay, Hotch, I get it, we can't all be as chatty as me with zero sleep. But come on, give me a smile, or at least a grunt," Evelyn coaxed, her laughter not quite reaching her eyes. "Anything to show you're still with us."

There was a pause, a look from Hotch that cut through her words, heavy with unvoiced thoughts, before he turned and walked away, his back a silent command to keep up. Evelyn's expression dimmed, her lips curving into a faint frown as she trailed behind him. The team's warm welcomes echoed around them as they entered the conference room. Evelyn's smile spread across her face, skillfully painted on to mask the twinge of disappointment that Hotch had left.

The moment Spencer's eyes found Evelyn, a soft blush bloomed across her face, and she offered him a smile tinged with complicity, which he mirrored back, a small but significant lift to her mood. The brief contact of Spencer's hand grazing her shoulder as she passed was enough to deepen the shade on her cheeks as she fought to maintain composure. 

"How was Miami hot stuff?" Morgan questioned, as his arm sling around her shoulder with a teasing squeeze.

"Hot," Evelyn declared, her hand theatrically waving in front of her face in a mock fan, while her elbow lightly collided with Morgan's side. "Nearly had me seeing stars. Poor Hotch was this close to performing CPR," she said, her words a deliberate prod as her eyes sought out Hotch's, hoping for any form of reaction.

"I'd say it was less about the heat and more about you neglecting to eat properly," Hotch commented dryly, his words carrying a hint of reprimand, but hey at least he was talking.

"Well, we really shouldn't dwell on the past," Evelyn said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Speaking of meals," JJ added, sliding a blueberry muffin towards her with a knowing smile. 

"You're a saint, JJ," Evelyn said, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the food. "I'm this close to giving you a thank-you kiss."

"As tempting as that sounds, you can actually thank Hotch for this one," JJ laughed as she nudged her. "He made it clear--no breakfast for you means a mountain of paperwork duties for us."

Evelyn's tension eased a fraction as she shot Hotch a teasing smile, her heart fluttering at the gesture. "Well, sir, rest assured, I strictly adhere to the 'no kissing the boss' clause. It's somewhere in the fine print, right?"

Evelyn's cheeks took a shade of pink at her own words, hanging in the air, laden with the what-ifs she couldn't quite push aside. Hotch's eyes, sharp and discerning, momentarily betrayed him, darting to her lips before he caught himself.

"Agent," he cautioned, his voice low but clear. Evelyn quickly raised her hands, a silent truce, as Hotch redirected his attention to the team. "What do we have?"

"At this rate, they'll be naming the next HR workshop after you," Morgan murmured, barely containing his amusement. 

"What if the unsub is part of a group like this themselves and feels wronged by it?" Rossi muses out loud, his fingers tracing thoughtful patterns against the stubble of his chin as he stands, back pressed against the brick wall.

Reid paced slowly around the table, his fingertips grazing a file as he passed. "It's possible," he began, his voice a soft murmur, eyes narrowing slightly. "The specific targeting and overkill suggest a perceived slight or trauma associated with such relationships."

Prentiss gave a firm nod. "Let's not rule out the possibility of the unsub viewing these groups as a threat to their moral or social beliefs."

"The female-centric dynamic could be important too," Evelyn tossed out, her steps halting beside the pictures of the victims.

As she pondered aloud Spencer found himself focuses intently on her face, her nose scrunching ever so slightly in thought--a gesture that drew a fleeting smile from him as he cast his gaze downwards in hopes no one else noticed how he looked at her. 

"Maybe the unsub feels wronged by the idea of a woman being the main focus? Or it could be jealously. Someone who wanted into a group like this but was rejected," Evelyn continued. 

"Or the opposite," Hotch contemplates, his brow furrowed in thought. "Someone who was in a group and cast out." He pauses, hands clasped as he leaned forward. "Let's dig into the background of the victims and see if there's a common thread."

The conference room was steeped in the day's fatigue, the air heavy with the tang of frustration and the stale scent of coffee. The team had returned from their respective tasks--interviews, crime scenes, and calls--all roads leading to dead ends. 

The room's stillness is shattered by Garcia's voice emanating from the screen. "I've got something," she declares, the pixelated glow casting an ethereal light in the dim room. "Both triads belonged to an ultra-elite society known as 'The Labyrinth.' It's like Fort Knox meets Fight club--no one talks about it, and no one gets in without an invite. I mean, you don't even want to know the lengths I went to find this in the first place."

"I mean, if the society is as exclusive as P says," Evelyn begins, her hand sweeping through her hair in a fluid motion. "Then the unsub is likely also part of it or they have resources that could get them information on it."

Garcia's voice bursts through the speaker. "Prepare to be dazzled," she trills, the clatter of her keystrokes punctuating her excitement. "The Labyrinth is rolling out the red carpet for a gala tomorrow night at the old Whitmore Estate. And you, my darlings, are virtually invited to the ball."

Morgan hunches over the table. "So, we need a cover," he states, "We can't just show up at the doorstep and demand to look around; it'll spook the unsub."

"Evelyn and Reid could blend in," Prentiss nods. "They fit the profile of two of the victims. Maybe they can draw the unsub out." Evelyn's eyes widen as she glances towards Spencer.

JJ chimes in, "And maybe Morgan could--"

But Rossi interrupts, shaking his head. "No, the second male victim's profile is different--older, more experienced. It's more Hotch's profile."

A crease forms between Hotch's eyes, a shadow of concern etching his features as his protective instincts surge to the forefront, coupling with a deep-seated unease about the unfolding plan. A delicate warmth crept up Evelyn's cheeks, her pulse quickening at the thought. The idea of going undercover with Hotch and Reid, a scenario plucked straight from her wet dream, sends a shiver down her spine and her thoughts into a tailspin. She opens her mouth, to joke it off, but it dissolves into a muddled string of half-formed words, leaving her with a bashful silence.

Hotch's words falter, a rare hesitation flickering across his usually impassive features. "I'm not sure if this is the best course of action--," 

Emily interjected swiftly, her words slicing through Hotch's protest. "Hotch, we may not get another shot at this. Using you three as bait isn't ideal, but it might be the only way to corner our unsub."

Hotch's eyes settle on Spencer, who gives a firm nod. His gaze than shifts to Evelyn, and though he resists the urge to analyze, the rosy flush of her skin and the accelerated pace of her breath betray her feelings. It's a jarring contrast to the professional distance he's been striving for. Hotch's nod was there, almost imperceptible, but the frown that follows is deeply etched, a clear sign of his disapproval despite his acceptable. 

The room hums with a focused energy as the team pores over digital and paper archives alike, each article detailed events like this and of the couples who frequent. Garcia curates a comprehensive collection of profiles detailing the Labyrinth and its attendees, while JJ and Morgan sift through social media for the gala's guest list. In a corner, Spencer and Rossi huddled over a cluttered desk examining the blueprint of the Whitmore Estate.

Meanwhile, in a makeshift office provided by the local police chief, Hotch and Evelyn are deep in study. The walls, now a gallery of whiteboards, are dense with the scribbled complexities of polyamorous relationships and the backgrounds of the victims.

"I've come across open relationships in case studies, but an entire society? That's a statistical outlier if I ever heard one--Spence would have a field day with those odds." Evelyn says with a soft shake of her head.

A faint arch forms in Hotch's brow, a muted signal of surprise to the informal reference of Reid. Catching the lift of Hotch's brow, Evelyn quickly adds, "You know, Hotch, the silent treatment isn't going to work when we're undercover," she started with a tilt of her head. "You've going to have to convince everyone we're together soon, remember? So, you might want to start practicing liking me now."

"I'm not giving you the silent treatment, Evelyn." Hotch remarks, his countenance flat, eyes reflecting any readability. 

"Sure, if you say so," Evelyn replied, her eyes thin slits of skepticism. "But if you're not up for this, Rossi could step in. We need to be believable, or people could get hurt."

"That's not going to happen," Hotch assets, his gaze unwavering, the firm set of his jaw sending a flutter to Evelyn's core. "I've played the part before; I can do it again."

"Then what are you so worried about?"

"I just want you to remember boundaries, Evelyn." Hotch reminds. "The seriousness of this cannot be understated, and I need to know your focus will be on the right aspects of the plan."

Hotch could see the subtle crumble of her face, the faint twitch of hurt that flickered across her features. She masked it swiftly, her voice laced with feigned indifference. "Understood. I'll try to keep my inevitable swooning over your pretend affections to a minimum, sir." The lightness of her words contrasted sharply with the hurt in her eyes, and Hotch felt an immediate ache in his stomach for causing it.

"Evelyn, that's not--" Hotch's voice trailed off, the hardness in his eyes giving way to a rare vulnerability. His fingers twitched with the need to reach out, to smooth away the creases of pain from her expression, but the opportunity slipped away as Rossi emerged at the door.

"Hotch, can I see you for a second?" he asked, gesturing subtly with his head.

Hotch offered a silent nod, his gaze holding Evelyn's for a moment longer than necessary, his eyes etching a mental image of her--the tilt of her head, the unresolved tension in her shoulders, before he reluctantly turned to follow Rossi. Spencer, shadowing Rossi's steps, pauses at the threshold, his gaze fixed on the departing figures. With a soft click of the door closing, he turns, the hush of the room settling around him as he turns to Evelyn.

He steps behind her, his hands coming to rest gently upon her shoulders. Evelyn tips her head back, her eyes lifting to meet his. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and soothing.

Evelyn's laughter bubbled up, slicing through the heavy air. "Had a moment with Hotch. Pretty sure he was subtly hinting that I keep my feelings in check as if I'm incapable of that."

Spencer's lips curled into a half-smile, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Hotch tends to get a bit tense with these high-stakes operations," he reasoned, his thumbs tracing soothing circles on her shoulders, easing the knots. 

Evelyn melts into the warmth of his hands. "That feels good," she sighs, her head gently reclining in contentment. "And tell me about. I'm the one who's going to be all up on my boss and coworker. Talk about awkward."

The thought of sharing Evelyn with Hotch sent an unbidden rush of blood straight to his cock, a visceral response that caught him off caught. He clears his throat, a subtle cover for the fleeting thought that, perhaps, the idea isn't as disconcerting as it should be.

"At least with you I don't have to pretend."

"I don't know, I think additional practice might be beneficial." Reid says, his fingers edging closer to the delicate skin of Evelyn's neck, prompting an involuntary hitch in her breath. "My room tonight? Purely for preparation purposes, of course."

"Dr. Reid, w-what are you suggesting?" Evelyn managed to tease out, despite the gentle pressure of his hand on her pulse point making her senses swim and her focus waver.

He leaned in, his head tilting to plant a gentle kiss in the hollow of her neck. "You're smart enough to deduce it," he murmured softly against her skin, the words almost a sigh, "missed you."

A giggle escaped Evelyn, and she nimbly evaded his grasp. "Spencer, we're practically inviting an audience at this rate."

"Which is precisely why I'm saving it for later, just wanted you to give you a preview, sweetheart."

The remainder of the day unfolded without incident, with Evelyn buried under a towering pile of research papers, its weight causing a dull throb behind her eyes. Every detail was meticulously arranged for tomorrow--the tickets secured, the outfits chose, the escape routes mapped. However, no degree of preparation could quell the fluttering feeling in the pit of her stomach. This is precisely what led Evelyn to Spencer's hotel door, perched anxiously, her knocks rapid and insistent, her gaze sweeping the corridor for onlookers.

The door finally creaked open, and Evelyn breezed inside, her voice a soft tease, "Took you long enough." Spencer, with a quick glance over his shoulder, closed the door with a silent snap.

Spencer's laughter echoed through the room, a carefree sound that made Evelyn pause. "Sorry, I was in the shower," he said, a sheepish grin on his face. 

It was then that Evelyn really looked at him--his hair damp and tousled, clinging to his forehead, chest bare, skin dotted with water beads that caught the light, the soft material of his pajama pants hanging from his hips. Her eyes lingered, almost hypnotized by the sight, and rendered mute. 

Evelyn's lips parted, ready to unleash a clever comeback, yet only a soft, airy giggle escaped. Without thinking, her arms encircled him, her heart thudding erratically from the sheer nearness of him.

His fingers tenderly framed her face, his laughter a comforting hum. "Evelyn, you're going to get all wet," he teased, thumb softly grazing her cheek.

"That's what I'm counting on," Evelyn replies, a coy smile on her lips as she lets her hands wander down his chest, her fingers flirting with the edge of his pants. "I believe I was promise there would be a rehearsal on the agenda this evening."

"Mmm, is that what you want baby?" He questioned teasingly, his hand guiding her gaze to his with a soft tug at her locks. "Be the good girl I know you are, get undressed, and get on the bed."

Evelyn's eyes sparkled with anticipation, her feet barely touching the ground as she hurried to the bed. Her gaze locked with his and with deliberate care, she pinched the hem of her shirt, swiftly gathering the fabric and sending is flying across the room in a fluid motion before she attended to her pants. His eyes followed her every move as he inhaled a sharp breath, his thumb brushing against his bottom lip. Her gaze followed down to his pajama pants and the tent that was growing within them, excitement growing in her chest. 

She carefully turned her back towards him as she hooked her thumbs around her pants and underwear letting them drop to the floor. She crawled on to the bed, arching her back in an exaggerated motion, giving Spencer a full glance at her glistening pussy. She turned quickly, resting on her elbows as she smiled sweetly at Spence who was all but drooling at the sight.

"You're so good sweetheart," Spencer exhaled, each step towards the bed measured, the corners of his mouth lifting at her eagerness, "so pretty."

Evelyn's legs instinctively clasped together in a silent plea for relief as a wave of warmth surged through her cheeks and pussy.

"Take this off, baby," Spencer commanded, the sound of his tongue clicking in disapproval as his fingers drummed a soft rhythm against the material of her bra, "Wanna see all of my beautiful girl."

She quickly complied, sitting up just enough to unclasp the pesky thing. His large hands splayed over the expanse of her thighs, coaxing them open as he settled between them, his gaze penetrating as her tits bounced out of the cups of the bra. "God, you're so pretty sweetheart."

A soft moan escaped Evelyn's lips as she squirmed on the mattress, "Spencer, need you."

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, his hand moving closer to her heat, fingers tracing back and forth in a tantalizing motion. "Gonna take such good care of you baby."

His thumb began to rub slow circles on her swollen clit, Evelyn's breath hitched, her hands frantically searching for something to grasp on to, landing on his wet curls. He teased her slowly, his fingers moving across her soaked folds. Evelyn felt as though she could see stars as she watched Spencer begin to plant soft kisses up her thighs, getting closer and closer to where she wanted him. 

She jutted her hips off the mattress, her fingers curling around his hair as if to move him towards her throbbing cunt. "Evelyn, patience teaches us to regulate our emotions. Neurologically speaking, it's linked to serotonin levels in the brain, did you know that pretty girl?"

"Spencer, please, baby put that good mouth to use."

Spencer let out a soft laugh before placing his mouth to her clit, sucking as if it were his full-time job. The moan that released from her was loud and unrestrained, her body thrusting against his mouth. His tongue curled into her, eating her out like it was his last meal on earth.

"Need you to be quiet, baby. Hotch is on the other side of this wall, don't want him hearing you, do you?" Spencer asked, his voice muffled. "Or maybe you do? Is that what you want? You want Hotch to know how I treat this pussy?"

Evelyn's body trembled with pleasure, her hands grasping against the cool sheets as if to steady herself. His hands wrapped around her thighs, pulling her closer as if to suffocate himself between them. "I-I,"

His tongue lapped greedily through Evelyn's folds, her cunt trembling against the pressure as broken moans escaped her lips. He met her eyes, peering up from his position devouring her aching pussy. 

"Spencer I-oh, fuck, I'm so close," Evelyn moaned out, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as she humped against his face, his nose brushing against her clit every so often. "I can't, I'm gonna-"

A knock at the door caused Spencer's motion to freeze, a panicked gasp releasing from Evelyn's lips as her orgasm dissipated into thin air.

"Reid, are you up?" Hotch's voice, firm and unexpected, pierced the silence. Evelyn's mind was a whirlwind of foggy thoughts, her body reacting before her brain could catch up. Beside her, Spencer's limbs flailed in a hasty attempt to feign alertness, both like deer caught in headlights.

"Oh my god," Evelyn hissed, her hands flying to shield herself. She leaped from the bed, her eyes darting desperately around the room for her scattered clothes.

"Just a second!" Spencer called to Hotch. Meanwhile, Evelyn snatched the nearest shirt, one of Spencer's and yanked it over her head. It was a clumsy dance, one that nearly ended with her sprawled on the floor, tripping over the bulky obstacle of his go-bag. "Get under the bed."

"Under the bed?" Evelyn's voice was a hushed blend of disbelief and urgency. Spencer returned her gaze with an unwavering stare. "God, you're lucky you're so good with that scholarly mouth of yours."

"Radio waves... they're the longest wavelengths in the electromagnetic spectrum," Spencer began, his voice a low hum as he paced the confines of the room. "First predicted by Maxwell in 1864," he continued, more to himself than to Evelyn. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "And they--"

He was cut off as Evelyn interjected. "Spencer, why are you giving me a physics lesson right now?"

"I'm trying to, uh... calm down."

Evelyn's gaze traced the path of Spencer's, her eyes light up at the sight of the tent still evident in his pants. A soft giggle escaped her lips, a delicate sound in the quiet room. Their eyes met once more, and she exhaled a prolonged, "Oh," the syllable stretching out as brought a hand to her mouth.

"Just get under the bed."

Evelyn's laughter was a soft echo, quickly muffled as she deftly maneuvered herself under the bed. Her breath caught in her throat, the only sound the creak of the door swinging open.

Spencer was met by Hotch, his figure framed by the hallway's dim light. "Reid, can I come in?"

With a subtle clearing of his throat, Spencer managed a casual tone, "Uh, yeah, sure, of course."

He swung the door fully open, his expression carefully schooled into one of practiced composure. Hotch stepped over the threshold, his eyes sweeping over the room. Spencer's gaze flitted after his, a silent prayer of gratitude that the room bore no trace of Evelyn's clothes. 

"I just wanted to talk to you about tomorrow," Hotch stated, his voice betraying none of the scrutiny his eyes had just performed. 

"Sure, what's up?" Spencer asked, the words slightly pinched at the edges, his voice climbing a register.

Hotch's arms locked across his chest like a barrier. "This undercover operation is delicate, and we can't afford any... complications."

Spencer swallows hard, his eyes darting to the bed for a fleeting second. "Of course, I understand."

With a casual lean against the desk, Hotch's features relaxed just perceptibly. "I know you understand, but it's not just about the operation. It's about perception too. Evelyn's already under a bit of scrutiny."

An awkward cough escaped Spencer, a clumsy veil over the tension he felt, knowing well that Evelyn hung on every word. "Right," he responded, an unspoken understanding that they were discussing her father.

"Gideon set a high bar, and it's clear Evelyn is rising to meet it," Hotch begins, his voice steady, a tinge of pride in his tone. "She's carved out her own space on this team, a fact we all recognize. But rumors don't always favor the truth, and any suggestion of her involvement with another agent could be damaging..."

"There's nothing unprofessional going on, Hotch," Spencer quickly countered, his voice a swift defense. 

Hotch raised a hand, a gesture of pause and consideration. "I'm not accusing you of anything," he clarified, his voice firm yet fair. "I'm just asking you to exercise caution," he articulated. "For her sake. She has a bright future, and it shouldn't be jeopardized by baseless chatter."

Under the bed, Evelyn's brain was in overdrive, dissecting every word, her mouth suddenly dry. 

"I understand."

"Good," Hotch affirmed with a supportive squeeze on Spencer's shoulder. "Goodnight, Reid."

"Yeah, you too."

next

taglist: @aceofspades190 @nonamevenus @lukesaprince @doigettokeepyou @tequilya @carley12041 @satellitelh @greatdinosaursalad @malewife-cas

[otakubimbo]

You Don't Know Me

Gojo x F! Reader

You're just some hot bimbo who needs help with their advanced college classes right?

Context: Cussing. Misunderstanding. Typical Gojo Behavior. College AU. No curse.

next

Today was the beginning of your sophomore year of college. You would probably be more excited about this if you weren’t lost, again. Your newfound friend, Shoko Ieiri, just showed you how to get to all your classes this semester. The two of you became fast friends over the summer since you were both pre-med and had taken the same summer classes. You found her hilarious and cool, and she enjoyed your positive and calm personality. Just last week, she showed you around all the buildings you were supposed to be at for your classes because if there is one thing people can say about you is that you are directionally challenged. No matter what it seemed that you were always getting lost, that’s even how you initially met Shoko because you were lost and luckily, she was going to the same classroom as you.

Reluctantly, you reach into your pocket pulling out your phone and hitting her contact.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” She didn’t even bother with the pleasantries and got straight to business.

“No!” You started and you could hear her try not to laugh at you on the other end of the line, “It’s just that I wanted to make sure that I knew exactly where the building was at, ya know, a second opinion some may say.”

“Hmmn, a second opinion? Alright,” She takes a drag of her cigarette. Who the hell starts smoking before 8 am? “Where are you right now?”

You look around at any landmark you could use to give her your location, “By the dining hall.”

She sighed, and you knew you weren’t even close to the right building “You need to be near the library, which is on the other side of campus.”

You groan, realizing that you’re going to be late on your first day. You hated being late, even if professors gave students a pass on the first couple of days to navigate around campus, you prided yourself on your punctuality despite your inability to figure out how to get where you are going.

“Alright. Got it. Thanks, Shoko.” You say as you begin your long walk to the other side of campus.

“Yeah yeah. We still on for lunch?”

“Yeah of course. You know I got that 11 am physics but after I’m free.”

“Cool, so around 12? Yeah? You gonna need help finding it?” She teases and you roll your eyes even if she can’t see you.

“Bye Shoko.”

“Bye,” She laughs before hanging up.

Eventually, you make your way across campus only a few minutes late, not even missing the 5-minute grace period. Even with the directions that you were given, when you enter the lecture hall you do look around a bit confused just to make sure you were in the right location.

“You look lost, pretty. I don’t think you’re in the right place.” Your eyes shift to the voice coming up behind you. Your brow furrowed because you thought you would be able to follow these basic directions Shoko gave you. You look back at your phone and your schedule just to make sure. The white-haired man in front of you scans over your body from head to toe while you look. You had a figure that a lot of women would pay for, and you weren’t shy about flaunting it. Currently, you were in a pair of low-rise jeans, thong showing of course, with a V-neck crop top that displayed multiple chest tattoos on which a letterman jacket sat on your shoulders. Your hair was in a slicked-back bun that had your coils neatly tucked away in the back, a fresh dye job of a dark purple. Every inch of visible body parts was shimmering brown from what must be some sort of body butter you used which made you smell like heaven, a mixture of cinnamon and vanilla.

He thought you were stunning and just knew a pretty girl like you couldn’t be in the same organic chemistry class he was taking. Especially with the way you looked, a girl who looks like you, like a bimbo, on top of the fact you looked absolutely lost.

You finally looked up from your phone, catching his eyes wandering your body but brushing it off because of course he was,

“No this is definitely it, I’m sure of it.” Your words did not come out as confident as you wanted them to, “This is advanced organic chem with Professor Sho right?” You bite your lip hoping that you were right so you wouldn’t have to go looking for the correct hall. His eyes widened at you in surprise when you said what class you were looking for.

“Yeah, this is it.” He says in a confused tone which makes you a bit confused, but you brush it off.

“Whew great.” You say and turn to go take a seat in the middle of the lecture hall. You were so happy you made it to the correct place. The middle was the best place for you, since you had accommodation that allowed you to record the lectures and it was best if you sat in the middle. If you sat in the back sometimes the audio would cut out on some parts and sitting too close sometimes gave feedback, so you found sitting in the middle to be the perfect spot for you.

As the professor begins his lecture, you are in your little world that you didn’t notice that boy you spoke to earlier watching you over your shoulder. Something about you intrigued him, you weren’t even paying attention, just doodling in your notebook not taking down a single note. Yeah, he wasn’t either but that’s because everything came so naturally to him that he would be fine regardless. On top of the fact that you didn’t even attempt to fawn over him when he spoke to you, all you cared about was whether you were in the right class or not.

After the lecture was over, you grabbed your things and stopped by the boy you met earlier to thank him again.

“Oh hey” you call to him getting his attention, he looks up at you while he’s packing his stuff. “Thanks again for letting me know I was in the right place, I’m terrible with directions. Kaneko, by the way.” You extend your hand out to him.

He smirks up at you, finally, you were going to give him the attention he just knew he deserved from you. “No problem, Gojo.” He reaches out and shakes your hand. You grin back at him. “Well, see you are. Bye” you say letting his hand go and waving to leave. Now he was left, stunned by your absence because surely you had come over to flirt with him. But no, you just wanted to thank him and then left. He was left watching your hips twitch in those too-tight jeans, gazing at the rhinestone of your thong leaving the doors of the lecture hall. Did you think you were out of his league or something? He had looks and brains, no way was he out of your league. This annoyed him to no end, and you had no clue what you even started with him.

Luckily, for you, you were able to find your next class with no problem and by that you mean you asked someone beforehand while you were getting your morning coffee, and they gave you impeccable directions. So, you were in high spirits by the time you met Shoko for lunch at the dining hall.

“Aye Meya” Shoko calls to you for you to come have a seat with her already at a table. You happily bounce your way over to her table.

“How do you always manage to look so great even when you have 8 ams?” she asks in an annoyed joking tone.

“Every morning when I wake up, I think to myself ‘What if I died right now? What kind of outfit would I want to be stuck in for the rest of my life’ that’s how I get the energy to put myself together in the morning. The last thing I want is to be an ugly ghost.”

This made Shoko almost shoot her drink out of her nose as she laughed at you.

The two of you enjoy the rest of your lunch together and then separate to continue your respective schedules. This is the routine that you two keep for about a month or so now and midterms are coming up soon. During this time, little did you know that Gojo's interest was getting more piqued on you. The two of you only said the occasional ‘hi’ when you saw each other in class but that was it. He wanted so badly to have a conversation with you, but you never seemed the least bit interested but today would hopefully be different. As you leave the lecture hall for your morning coffee Gojo stops you.

“Oh hey, what’s up Gojo?” You ask, taking your AirPod out of your ear, and smiling at him.

“I just wanted to ask if you needed a tutor or anything for the midterm coming up?” he asks nonchalantly with his hands in his pocket. Your brow furrows as you look at him confused.

“No, I think I’m good.” You giggle. Why would you need a tutor? The lowest grade you had gotten in this class so far was an A- but he didn’t know that.

“You sure? I really don’t mind.” He attempts to insist, hoping that you’ll let him.

“Yes, I’m sure. Thanks, though I guess.” You say beginning to walk away putting your AirPod back in.

“Wait” He stops you again, “Are you being tutored by someone else?”

Now you were starting to get a bit irritated but not trying to let it show because maybe he was just trying to be nice and there’s no reason to be mad about that.

“No. I’m not but again thanks for the offer. I gotta go.” You say as politely as you can, giving him a small smile as you leave making an exaggerated movement in putting your AirPod back in, in hopes he doesn’t ask again. He sighs frustrated as he watches you leave.

“There’s no way she can’t be interested in me” Gojo complains to his best friend, Geto Suguru, in their shared apartment, flopping onto his bed.

“Are you talking about the girl in organic chem class?” Geto asks kind of uninterested, focusing on his own studies since again midterms were coming up.

“Of course, no one else is worth my time. Kaneko Meya”

Geto puts his pen down after hearing him say your name, “That name sounds familiar actually.”

“Like you know her familiar?” Gojo asks shooting up from his position on the bed.

“More like, know of. Hold on horn dog, let me see something” Geto remarks as he pulls out his phone pulling up instagram to scroll trying to find what he was looking for. “Bingo.”

Gojo suddenly appears over his friend’s shoulder. It was a picture of Shoko at some type of restaurant with the caption “On a date kind of nervous <3” and Shoko was tagged in it. The original poster is none other than you, TheGirlY/N.

“She’s dating fucking Shoko?!?!” Gojo yells in despair. Geto laughs at him as he keeps scrolling. “No, she isn’t look.” He shows Gojo the comments.

ChainSmokerShoko: Meya stop saying this! This is why I can’t get a girlfriend!

TheGirlY/N: No, it’s fun and this isn’t why you can’t get a girlfriend. Love you bestie! <3

ChainSmokerShoko: REPORTED

Gojo sighs in relief when he realizes that you aren’t dating Shoko but now he had to find a way to convince Shoko on how to get to know you better. He grabs his own phone to pull up your IG and scroll through it. There were a lot of photos like the one Geto showed him that had pictures of Shoko across from you at a table with similar captions, “just having dinner with the loml’ ‘me and bae out of the town’ and each one with Shoko complaining and you laughing her off. Other pictures were of just you, cute selfies, photos of you during summer, pictures of your notes and aesthetically pleasing set ups. You took part in thirst trap Thursdays a lot it seemed. Fuck, you were absolutely gorgeous to him.

“She is definitely out of your league. No wonder she won’t let you tutor her.” Geto teases as he’s also going through your IG.

“I’m probably the hottest guy on campus, we are in the same league” He scoffs turning back to his own phone.

“Did she even ask for tutoring?”

“No but look at her, and plus all she does in class is doodle and look frustrated. AND this is advance organic chem, there’s no way she doesn’t need help.”

“You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover Satoru.”

“Yeah, whatever” Gojo says before he decides to follow you on IG.

The funny thing about it is that Geto had met you before, at a meeting with the National Honors Society. You had a GPA that was higher than his and Gojos but he wasn’t going to tell his friend that, he was going to have to learn the hard way. Especially since you were the only reason that Shoko wasn’t failing out of her pre-med classes, you saved her during the summer break and if anything, you should be tutoring Gojo.

You always took it easy on the week of the midterms to not stress yourself out in every way, you can’t retain information on a stressed brain. But Gojo knew there was no way you were going to pass the midterm so that would be his opportunity to swoop in and assist you with helping get your grade up.

Now midterms were over and as always you got in class early, already doodling on a piece of paper while you waited for class to start. You knew that you would be going over the midterm today, so you don’t have your usual setup out since there weren’t going to be any lecture notes to copy down.

“Hey Y/L”

You hear Gojos voice as he takes the seat beside you, which you find a bit strange since he always sits in the back, but you don’t mind.

“Hey Gojo” You softly smile at him as you continue your doodles. You were just doing some chibi art today, confident in your grade from the midterm.

“How did you think you did on the midterm?” He asks you to try and gauge if you were concerned or not.

“Eh I’m sure I did fine.” You shrug casually. Yes, you were confident, but it wouldn’t matter what grade you got, it just matters what you do after. You didn’t stress but you strived to be better always.

“Well, I’m sure I aced it” He says cockily grinning at you. You just nod your head at him unimpressed with his boisterousness. “How about we both look at ours the same time when they get handed back?” He comments trying to get more out of you.

You give him a small giggle that makes his eyes light up, the sound was music to his ears, “Sure, if you want to” The idea to you was silly but why the hell not.

As soon as the midterms were handed back out, both you and Gojo had yours facing down until the professor said to look over it and if you had any questions today was the day to ask, as he would be going over anything people didn’t understand.

“Alright, you ready” Gojo asks, hoping that you would beg him to tutor you once you saw his higher grade.

“Ready” You giggle at him and the two of you flip your papers over at the same time. A wide smile spreads upon your face as you see the A + plastered at the top, all the chemical compounds that you doodled repeatedly coming to being usual, you had them memorized by muscle memory. You look over at Gojos paper and see that he received a B+, which is still a great grade.

“You did good. Good job” you say earnestly smiling at him, but all Gojo heard was condescension.

“You got a better grade than me?” Gojo says more to himself than to you.

“Well I mean — “You start before he cuts you off.

“How did you get a better grade than me?” He continues and your smile drops from your face, he didn’t even let you answer before he starts ranting. “All I ever see you doing is doodling in that fucking notebook of yours. I was even trying to get to tutor you because I just knew you needed help and was going to fail.”

You were immediately taken aback, why would he say that to you? He didn’t even know you.

“What?” You question, your voice breaking a little.

He looks at you, angrily “Are you fucking the professor?”

“Excuse you?” You must have heard him wrong because there’s no way he just asked you that.

“That’s why you’re always dressed like that. You must be fucking him 'cause there’s no way you got an A + on this hard-ass midterm and did better than me.” He spits as he snatches your mid-term, comparing the answers. Your body moves on its own as you stand up, the tears threatening to escape. Your arm goes back and you punch him square in the jaw, usually, you would be against hitting someone but the rage and hurt that just came over you had your body moving on autopilot. At the sound of your fist connecting with his jaw everyone’s head turned in your direction as blood flew out of his mouth.

Your body was shaking with rage, “you do not FUCKING know me. I worked hard for that grade you condescending prick. I’m sorry that your walnut sized brain can’t comprehend someone who looks like me getting better grades than you. Get the fuck over yourself. Do not EVER speak to me again, don’t even LOOK at me again. Fuck you, you blue eyed freak.”

You grabbed everything but your notebook that had fallen when you got up to punch him and ran out of the lecture hall. You knew Shoko didn’t have a class right now, so you make your way to your shared apartment trying your best to hold back your tears until you get there. Unfortunately for you, you get lost on your way there. Fuck. You think you’re on the wrong side of campus when you quickly turn around running into someone.

“Oh Shit. I’m sorry. Excuse me.” You get out trying not to meet whoever you ran into gaze.

“Y/L?” the person asks, holding your shoulders gently. It was Geto.

“Oh, hi Geto right?.” You meet his eyes, and his face grows concerned as he nods at you. “I was just trying to get to my friend Shokos apartment, can you help me? If not that’s fine, I’m sorry to bother you. I just…. Im just… a bit lost.”

He can tell that you are on the verge of tears, you look completely lost and not just directionally, “Yeah sure, she’s a friend of mine too I know exactly where that is.”

He doesn’t ask you what’s wrong just guides you to Shokos apartment. When you get there, you immediately throw yourself into her arms and try not to cry just yet until you’re sure that Geto leaves.

“Y/N?? What happened? What’s wrong?” She asks rubbing your back, death staring at Geto.

“I didn’t do it. I just walked her here.” He says hands up in surrender.

“Yeah, I ran out of class and got lost trying to find your apartment and ran into Geto. He said you were friends, so he helped me here.” You confess into her shirt before turning to Geto, “Thank you by the way.”

“No problem,” He says awkwardly for a second before checking the many notifications that he received on his phone while walking you here.

Seven missed calls from Stupid Satoru

Text From Stupid Satoru:

I fucked up. Fucked up big time. Call me back! Please!

“I gotta go. I’ll catch you later Shoko and Kaneko.” He says giving you a sad smile before he leaves. Once the door is closed, you immediately break down into Shokos arms.

“Hey, calm down. What happened?” She questioned between your sobs.

“I punched him and then I cussed him out in front of the whole class. Now everyone’s going to think i’m some crazy monster I already have enough trouble as it is because it seems like no one ever wants to talk to me but he just made me so upset. I just did it before I could even think. Then I ran out of class and then I got lost. Luckily I bumped into Geto, I didn’t even know you were friends and he got me here.” You say feeling better after your little crying spell, wiping your tears.

“You punched someone? Who? You’re not exactly telling me what happened.” She asked, her voice full of concern.

“Remember the guy I told you about who kept insisting he tutor me?”

“Yeah, I remember. That shit was weird.”

“Well, we got our midterms back and I got an A+” you say and Shoko cuts you off with congratulations, she saw how hard you were studying for the test, you barely left your apartment for a week. “He got a B+ on his and I don’t know why he was so upset that I got better than him, but he was. He said there was no way that someone who looks like me should have gotten a better score than him, claimed I don’t pay attention in class, and that I must be sleeping with the professor to have gotten such a good grade.”

“He said what?!”

“Yeah and that’s when I punched him” You say with your head down, Shoko squishes your face with both of her hands making you look at her.

“As you should of” She says proudly, she knows you are more of the docile type especially since you actually did know how to fight, you didn’t like using your strength on others unless for self-defense.

“Do I look dumb, Shoko? I dress this way because I like too, and I know I can come off as a bimbo sometimes especially since I’m bad at directions but do I seem dumb? I don’t want people to think I’m dumb, especially not to think I sleep with professors for good grades. I try so hard, you know that, and I just have finally gotten comfortable with myself….” you trail off unable to finish your thoughts, you just felt like complete shit.

“No, you’re just hot and confident and that idiot is an idiot. I know how smart you are. Shit you’ve helped me study with your immaculate notes all summer, you’re one of the smartest people I know. Being hot doesn’t make you dumb, that’s just a stupid stereotype, and the fact that he believes that is idiotic.” She attempts to comfort you.

“But then I cursed him out, said he had the brain the size of a walnut, told him never to talk to me again, and called him a blue-eyed freak.” You confess with a sigh, you really didn’t like how mean you were even if he deserved it.

“And he deserved it… Wait you called him a what?” She blinks at you a few times, hoping and praying you aren’t talking about who she thinks you’re talking about.

“A blue-eyed freak…. I know it was mean, but he started with me first and just….” You trail off, now feeling horrible about what you said.

“No, no, I get it. I would have said worse. It’s just that…. What was his name?” She asks through gritted teeth.

“Gojo Satoru”

[avoxrising]

The Feral One • Ch 26

Finnick x Y/N

Series Masterlist Link

A second chapter today as promised

Content Warnings - injury, surgery, mention of psych eval

An hour feels like forever as you watch the one you love slowly fade away. You’re passed out again by the time Peeta returns with a medic.

“I could only find one,” he pants, trying to catch his breath. “There were a lot of injuries due to the bombs.”

The medic kneels down to take a look at you. Your blood was still black, worrying the entire group.

“Please,” Finnick pleads. “You have to help her.”

“There aren’t enough of us right now to handle this,” the medic shakes their head. “Half of our unit died to the bombs this morning.”

“Can you radio for someone? Anyone?” Finnick asks.

The medic was able to call for an armored vehicle to come pick you up. They didn’t have any medical supplies but they could drive you to the hospital.

Finnick holds your limp hand the whole way, refusing to let you leave him.

It’s been 12 hours with no news. The doctors immediately rushed you into surgery when you arrived, not even letting Finnick come with you.

Finnick sat alone in the waiting room of the hospital. Peeta had been taken in for a psych eval and Katniss was in the ICU. Boggs was dead, the Leegs were dead, Prim was dead… (Gale was unfortunately not dead)

A gloomy aura hung over the capital that day. The rebels had won but at a high cost. Finnick didn’t know what he would do with himself if you didn’t make it.

“Finnick,” someone states as they nudge his shoulder. The blond looks up to see Johanna in front of him.

“Jo…” he replies. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard what happened…,” she starts. “I needed to be here. They flew me out from thirteen.”

“Thank you,” Finnick hums as his friend sits beside him.

The two of them sit in silence for hours, Finnick periodically dozing off in his chair.

Johanna nudges him awake when the doctor comes out.

“She made it through surgery,” the doctor states, causing the victors to let out a sigh of relief. “She’s in a medically induced coma for the time being. She’ll need to have another operation in a week to remove the mass in her brain.”

“What mass?” Finnick asks.

“The timer…” Johanna mutters.

“We don’t know exactly what it is,” the doctor explains. “We do, however, believe that it’s the cause of her sudden illness. The doctors are in contact with Mr. Latier to devise a safe plan of removal.”

“Can we see her?” Finnick asks.

“I’m afraid she’s in a quarantine until her immune system rebuilds strength,” the doctor responds. “We need to check you for injuries but after I can set up some chairs outside her room for you.”

Physically, Finnick was fine. The doctors gave him some fluids and treated some cuts but released him soon after.

He wanted to help you in any way he could. The hospital was running short on blood so he donated some. Unfortunately it couldn’t go to you but Johanna’s blood was able to.

The doctors did a full body scan on Johanna and determined she was clear of any capital additions, meaning she could donate blood and tissue to you. She spent every moment with Finnick, only leaving to grab him some food.

Mags and Annie called daily from 13 but weren’t able to come to the capital yet. District 13 was working on assigning the victors places to stay in the capital until Snow’s execution but they weren’t ready. There was still a lot of cleanup to do.

Beetee flew in two days before your scheduled surgery. He showed Finnick and Johanna the brain scans and explained in technical terms how they were going to extract it without triggering any reactions.

“My hacking abilities allowed me to gain access to the experiment database of the capital’s military lab,” he explains. “A similar experiment was done on some rats around 60 years ago. Luckily we do not believe removing it will cause any further damage to her system.”

“What was it designed to do?” Johanna asks.

“I believe the experiment was designed to trigger a rabies-like reaction in the subject; resulting in their death. However, I hypothesize that the process did not complete itself in her due to the amount of blood she lost. The reaction is transported via the bloodstream so it ceased when there wasn’t enough blood left to continue it,” he explains. “She’s lucky she got here when she did. The doctors told me they’ve never seen someone that low on blood survive for that long. I’m optimistic that once we gain access to the medical equipment in the military hospital she will heal fairly quickly.”

“Thank you,” Finnick responds.

“We’re victors,” Beetee states. “We look out for each other.”

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