#It's safer to assume I didn't

[blushblushbear]

hihi!! can you write poe, cashew, and Cole general relationship hcs? ty!!!

*scurries away*

Poe:

he's very chill but committed

he's not the type to have your pic as his phone background

but he IS the type to have it be an artisty black and white photo of a handwritten poem that he wrote about you and also maybe there's a rose

his energy is very lax but don't let that fool you

he's INSANELY committed

will probably try and talk you into a cemetery date (it's just so Mary Shelley losing her virginity on her mother's grave ya know??)

will try and work some element that reminds him of you into his jewelry

would never ask this but he thinks it would be wicked romantic if you painted his nails for him

very interested in going new places and seeing new things with you

he wants to experience interesting places in this world but mostly he wants to see said places with you

the amount of poems he shows you are only the tip of the ice berg as far as what he actually writes

though he still is the most open about his writing with you

low key thinks about you a lot and regularly checks his phone for you texts and is constantly wondering if he should text first or if that would be too clingy...

Cashew:

IS the type to have you as his phone background lol

Poe is very smitten but subtle about it (until you get him talking which is it's own challenge sometimes cause he likes to keep to himself)

Cash is the exact opposite

the whole world will know seconds of him walking into a room that he's dating someone

has tons of pictures of you around everywhere

uses one as a bookmark

thinks of you all the time when reading romantic subplots

or plots

actually thinks about you a lot when reading

and all the time

loves to have a nightly call with you and talk about your days and what's going down in his most recent read (YOU WILL NEVER /GUESS/ WHO TURNED OUT TO BE EVIL)

tries really hard to do all the boyfriend cliches and does them all in earnest

sends you flowers quite a bit actually

he is just a little nerd who wants to be your Casanova so bad

also wants to see places and experience the world with you but unlike Poe it's like.... normal things (like Cash wants to go to the Eiffel Tower, Poe wants to go solo exploring through the catacombs of Paris/the court of miracles {ya know-- the place with all the dead people lining the walls! romantic! :D})

is always looking for anything fun or cute to do on a date with you

tries to write you poetry

it's--- sweet! :)

bless him

would never larp on his own but if invited to larp he would

also wants to go to a rein faire so bad

Cole:

oh boy this guy lol XD

seems like a very nice normal extremely devoted boyfriend

and he is

but he's also watching you sleep at night from your bedroom window and stole some of the hair out of your brush

"for personal use"

also tracks everything about you to the best of his abilities

keeps a list of everyone you regularly interact with 'just in case'

but also likes to randomly show up and do something sweet

he's the king of OH I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd say hi, I brought doughnuts!

everything he does is very sweet and attentive and thoughtful

well.... maybe not THOUGHTFUL

more like thought out

meticulously

also likes to hog your time as best he can but he tries to be subtle about it

will claim you loudly whenever being introduced to someone knew

'oh, yes hello, I'm Cole, their BOYFRIEND. It's nice to meet you."

is the listener in the conversations

he just loves taking you in

watching you constantly, hanging off your every word, keeping notes about the things that make you happy

I think you also take him aback every so often in ways he wasn't expecting

anytime you get very genuine with him or very loving or affectionate

he has this like--- it's like a weird sensation

like a weird euphoric rush

is it cause he likes seeing you at your most sincere and vulnerable??

or is this what being loved feels like????

is this what BEING in love feels like??????

it's pretty great! very addicting...

in his darkest moments he tries to think of you

you bring him a comfort he can't explain but has never really felt before

every now and then he just comes to you in a daze and clings to you

In one way or another, Cole's had a bad day

He gets a little scared how much he finds himself absorbed by you

and that fear hits him at the weirdest times sometimes

like you too were just having breakfast and this sudden feeling of inescapable dread came crashing in

but then you asked him what's up with that sweet little smile of yours and he's feeling okay again

lots of gifts that are little too personal

[omarwolaeth]

thinking 'bout how the lads interact with what the bracelets represent, especially in their decks

[brittlebutch]

have been thinking about Until Dawn again -- do we ever like, fully understand what Josh had planned for Matt and Emily? Like, did he steal/hide her bag or something to get them out into the woods? Or was that just some kind of coincidence that played out like he hoped it would?

[retiredteabag]

Sukuna assimilating to you

Synopsis: After discovering that Sukuna has been wide awake every time you nap together, you become embarrassed around him.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It is a scientific fact that when we are around people we love and trust, while in a healthy relationship, the release of oxytocin makes us sleepy.

Sukuna does not need sleep. He is the king of curses, able to continuously use his technique without ever becoming exhausted. When you first suggested that his chambers were "perfect for napping", he had simply raised a brow and considered what that could possibly mean.

You are like a weak creature to him. A kitten or perhaps a rabbit. And since you are never safer than when you are in his presence, you frequently find yourself growing sleepy when you are around him.

Throughout your strange relationship with the king, something that you loved most, is that there never needs to be words exchanged between the two of you. You were both contented to sit in silence. Frequently dozing off together, or so you thought.

You caught on eventually, that he was always awake before you. That his breathing pattern never really changed. That his face never relaxed more than it would if he had simply been sitting with his eyes closed.

One morning, after having stayed the night sleeping, you mumbled to him, "How is it you're always awake before I?"

He rose a brow at you, his upper set of eyes were looking into yours, the lower staring at how you lay across his bed sheets.

"I do not know your meaning." He grumbled out.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "You never sleep in longer than I do, one day I would like to wake up before you."

"I never sleep at all." He stated before you had even really finished your sentace.

"What?" Your breathy outburst echoed slightly in his bed chamber, "What do you mean you don't sleep?"

"I do not require such things." He turned his torso now toward you, all four eyes studying your face, you had quickly sprung up, seemingly miffed.

"So... so all this time, you've just been... laying there while I've been sleeping?"

"I suppose I have, I do not see how this matters in the slightest." "It matters because I've been... It's just been a big waste of time for you. Sukuna you should have said something." You're upset, he can tell. Your face is scrunched up, your blood is pounding in your veins. Sukuna, however, does not know what to say in this situation.

In all honesty, he figured you knew and were just including him. Did you really think he was that weak? Or could you simply not conceive of a restless existence? Whatever the answer, he had no response for you, expecting a shrug of the shoulders- you he would discover, would not so easily let go of things.

And how humiliated you were. How many HOURS had you spent sleeping with him, within his grasp, in his space for him to have been conscious the whole time? You tried thinking back, attempting to recall a time you had requested a nap when he was uninterested.

He had never uttered a word about it. Never turned you down. Sukuna was not a kind king, he rarely ever did things that were not out of necessity, and he certainly did not do things he didn't like. That, at least, was consolation. You knew he had not been suffering for your sake, but even so, it was embarrassing.

Sukuna, still, could not understand your sheepishness about the subject. He did not care to explain that time works differently for him, that his mind is not so simple as yours and does not require entertainment all the time, that he could sit still for years and not be bothered, and frequently did before you came along.

He assumed you would get over it quickly. In your time as well as his. But days passed and he rarely saw you. You took your dinner with other people of the palace and spoke with him in the most cordial manner. One night, he informed Uraume that they needed to prepare a dish suited for you, something that would entice you, and serve it to him.

He figured this would bring you crawling back to him, tail between your legs. Yet, you did not budge.

Odd.

You were wallowing. You knew it. He did not care to spend time, what? Watching you sleep? Of course, he wouldn't, but it hurt your pride, to know you had been taking up such huge chunks of time lazing about in his presence. Well, not anymore. You slept in your chamber and your chamber alone. Gone were the days of blankets on the engawa, gone were the days of resting beneath the kotatsu while laying your head in his lap, gone were the days of sharing his bed.

If ever he wished for someone to share his bed, he had a whole cast of concubines, though you knew they were never of any use to him, they were mostly just house staff with a fancy title.

The evening he finally decided enough was enough, you were in the washhouse doing laundry.

Your back was arched over a bin full of soapy water. Your hands working tirelessly on some cloth.

"Have you not circumvented me enough?" He spoke in a low and slow tone.

"Lord Sukuna." You bowed, clothing in your hands, suds up your forearms, you bent your neck as to not look at him.

"You will reply now." He raised a brow, watching your hands quietly splash in the washbin.

"Was there something you would like me to assist to?" You questioned. Your head was full of possible reasons for what the king meant by seeking you out personally.

"Do you believe that by not sleeping in my presence I would come to believe you do not require rest?" He spoke in an unserious tone, eyes unblinking.

"No, my lord." Now what was he playing at? Of course that wasn't your intention.

"Then you hide yourself from me because you no longer have time for your king, I suppose." He mused.

Oh, for heaven's sake, "No, my lord."

"I see," He bent down to look you dead in the eyes, "So, you must no longer crave my occupancy of your space. You must not desire my hand running through your hair? I suppose you have tired of staying in my chambers?" His tone remained deep but his eyes were dead serious now.

"I-" You began, but suddenly you felt the urge to cough, swallowing you tried again, "I wished not to preoccupy so much of your time."

"And you made this decision without enlightening your king."

You said nothing.

"You will eat with me tonight, you shall stay in my chambers henceforth." He rose in record speed, turning without a second glance your way, maids were staring wide-eyed at the king of curses as he halted at the entrance of the washhouse. You could not see, but there was finality in his voice.

"I wish not to waste-" You were cut off by Sukunas voice, his broad back still facing you.

"Your wishes do not interest me now, so it seems. It is my wish for you to spend your time with me." His steps resounded through the compound, your face slack.

The maids smirked, and with shocked faces, side-eyed one another. A couple entered the washhouse giving you big open-mouthed smiles, and patted your shoulder as they passed.

That night Uraume made something you would go on to beg them to make for years to come. And when Sukuna pulled you prone from your seated position on his bed, he took a firm fingertip and stroked the space between your eyes, one of his enormous hands encircling your skull and massaging your temples with his thumb and ring fingers. He traced the bridge of your nose to your forehead, the way you would stroke a cat.

Perhaps he thought this would induce drowsiness but all it did was make you feel all floaty inside at his silliness.

And for the first time since that night, you slept alongside him. Within his embrace, and when you awoke, Sukuna's eyes were closed.

[foone]

Your posts are in an AI model

and then Tumblr decided to sell them to AI models.

Now, don't get me wrong, tumblr selling out the users to AI companies is bad, yes, they shouldn't do that. It sucks.

but don't lets get this confused: your posts were already in there. Tumblr selling them is about tumblr making some money and about the AI models having more exhaustive post collections. It's not about your posts being in an AI model, vs not being in one. That battle has already been lost.

Can you find your post on google? Then it's almost certainly in an AI model already. Think about it: These AI sites showed up before all the sites were making deals to sell their users' content, right? How do you think they built them in the first place?

They scraped the posts. Just like google and bing and such do when they build their search indexes.

It's a fundamental part of how the open web works: you want your posts on tumblr to be visible to users, right? You want them to be readable?* Like, look how much stuff broke when twitter changed their whole read-while-not-logged-in policy, ruining a bunch of thread links/NSFW links. And if it's visible, it's scrapable. That's what the AI models were built on.

I've done website scraping before (not for AI models, of course. I was doing search engines and website archival), this is just how it works. You hire a few relatively smart CS graduates and tell them "build me a scraper that'll give us a bunch of tumblr posts" and they go off for a month or two and come back with a database of a few billion posts, and you stuff that into your AI model. That's how they got all the deviantart and flickr and twitter and pinterest and so on posts. They didn't pay for them: they just took them.

They only ever pay for this shit because either:

they fucked up in such a way that the site might be able to sue them for taking rather than paying

They can buy them cheaper than they can finish taking them. Maybe they'd need to pay the CS grads for an extra month? well, that might be more expensive than just throwing the site a couple hundred thousand bucks.

ANYWAY: my point is, don't treat this "oh no tumblr is selling our posts to AI" like it's a big thing that might happen and it would be bad to happen. Yes, it's bad, tumblr shouldn't do this, this'll let AI models get continual updates of content for far easier than just scraping them would be, tumblr betrayed user trust, and so on...

but realistically, this is not a black and white matter of "if only tumblr didn't do this, then we'd be safe from AI models!"

Nope. We already lost that battle. I'm sorry, and it does suck, but that's just how it is. The avalanche has already started, it's too late for the pebbles to vote. * I'm assuming here that you don't run a private blog that's set to only followers or something. You'd be safer then, of course, but you're not really my target audience for this rant

[teaboot]

Okay yeah on one hand, my gender and sexuality and mental health has nothing to do with doing my job, so I get how announcing my identity and who I am / am not attracted to could be considered as "Inappropriate for the workplace".

That said, everyone who sees me (gestures to cis-passing, straight-passing, masking neuroatypical self in gender-conforming work clothing) and assumes, in the back of their head by default, that I'm a straight cis allo neurotypical person, so the topic has already kinda been brought up in a way. My saying "actually, no" isn't so much an abrupt announcement as it is correction of an assumption.

And correcting those assumptions is important, especially for persons like me who occupy positions of authority, who appear in court and in community conferences, with business owners and CEOs and at-risk members of the public, 'cause when I say, "these are my pronouns, I'm this" then people like me can feel safer, and people who aren't like me get to see that one of us exists in the real world and isn't some scary hypothetical phantom.

And in the future, when someone says "you can always tell who's trans" or "autistics can't hold down real jobs" or "bisexuals are flirty and promiscuous by nature" or "asexuals aren't real, they're just basement-dwelling terminally-online tweens", they can remember that one time they met me in a professional setting where I was who I was and the world didn't end.

So when they see someone who, by chance, does match the image of their stereotype, they'll know that's just normal human variation and not a universal role.

So, it's not so much that I want to "insert my deviance into the workplace"- it's just me saying, "look at me. I'm here. We're all here, and for every one of us you see, there's a hundred others that you don't. Because you don't know what we look like, and wouldn't know unless we told you."

The status quo, the closeted life, is, "becareful who you come out to, because you could be surrounded by enemies, and you wouldn't know until it's too late".

When I wear a pin, when I out myself in a small, subtle way, I say back: "be careful who you lash out at, because they could be surrounded by defenders, and you won't know until it's too late."

It says, "if you couldn't recognize me without this flag, then how many more of us might be out here with me?"

And the statement "you cannot attack me, we're safe here" should not be banned in the workplace

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

What about the Doors/Pressure shopkeepers trying to pretend they aren't giving their crush special treatment when in groups. Like, special inventory, discreet discounts, all that jazz

Jeff (Doors)

"Oye, I see what you're doin', Jeff. Thought you weren't one for giving out freebies."

*shrug*

"Don't play dumb! I saw you sneak the skeleton key into their bag! Even Bob's a witness!"

No matter what El Goblino says, Jeff will just wave off any accusations of him giving you "special treatment" whenever you stopped by the shop with your group.

While none of them donated to the tip jar, you were the only one who ever did...and even when you came back again and again, it was always you who showed him charity.

The rest of your group would just argue over what to spend their money on, try to rush ahead, mess with his radio, etc. etc.

But you trust Jeff, and he trusts you <3

So you get small discounts on his wares, and despite him not being able to speak, you could tell he's only looking after you.

The goblin jokes about Jeff's little "crush" on you...then he sees the entity's eyes widen and realizes "wait amigo,,I wasn't being serious do you actually like them?????"

He just shoos him away and will deny it to kingdom come, but it is true.

The moment you realized his feelings for you was when Rush attacked the shop once, and you thought you were done for-

When Jeff instinctively pulled you behind the counter and slammed the shutter down, keeping you uncomfortably close (yet somehow you've never felt safer).

When it's all over, he blushes and lets you go free.

You thank him with a small kiss on the forehead(?) and promise to see him again soon.

The next time you get duped by Dupe, or attacked by Eyes, Timothy, Screech, or a snare and need to heal...you discover a few bandaids in your pocket that weren't there previously...

Huh.

Wonder who gave you those?

Sebastian (Pressure)

Normally, Sebastian doesn't care to make personal connections with any of the expendables.

He's just there as their supplier before seeing them off on their journey, hoping they're putting his resources to good use.

But recently he's been seeing you more often, coming by with a new group or by yourself, trying your best to survive long enough to reach him.

Ofc, you've died to stupid things before (or maybe you're just trying to get all the monster documents..in which he's convinced you're some masochist), but you did have the most common sense out of your group and didn't try to annoy him.

The others just waste flash beacon charges on trying to blind the poor guy and stick the keycard in a medkit they couldn't afford...and for what?

Why do your "friends" do that? Are they stupid or something?

You tell them to stop, and it's...actually kinda nice to hear somebody willing to defend him.

People usually don't give a shit about the giant scary fish's feelings, yet for some reason you do.

Of course, Sebastian was reasonably suspicious about it.

"Are you acting this way just to get a freebie?" He assumes. "Because if you are, then you're definitely as stupid as-"

"No, I'd never do that to you." You shake your head. "You're here, helping us survive out there, risking a lot to get us those supplies...is it wrong for me to appreciate that?"

"......"

He goes quiet for a minute, but after the rest of your group leaves, he asks you to stay for a moment.

"You were looking at this Necrobloxicon for a while...you must reeeeally want it, huh?" He grins, flicking his tail where the book was strapped. "It's a rarity."

"I...can't afford that. I'm fine with this dingy flashlight-"

"It's yours for 70% off. Take it or leave it."

You do a double take. "Wait, wha-"

"70% off. Take it. Or leave it." He says through gritted teeth, impatient, only to smile when you accept the deal without further question. "Good. Now don't go telling anyone I'm offering discounts. That's your only one unless I feel generous. Capiche?"

"Gotcha. Thank you, Seb. This means a lot. I hope to see you again soon." You smile back, holding the spooky book tightly, and leave him alone with his thoughts.

And a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest-

Wait.

"Oh no....what the fuck am I doing????? That's it! NO more discounts for anyone, Sebastian!" He scolds himself.

Little does he know, he's gonna keep giving them out, but only for you.

[chainmail-butch]

As a transwoman in explicitly trans spaces I get treated like a wasp in a cup.

For example, I went to a speed dating event the other day. I'm pretty good at talking with people and dating apps suck. The venue had hosted other queer dating events including a sapphic event, which I had explicitly avoided. I did not want to roll those dice. But recently they held a T4T event which seemed like a much safer prospect.

I get there and its me, my roommate (transmasc, moral support) and my roommate's friend (transmasc-ish, also moral support). Apart from us there was one transwoman, one transman, and 3 AFAB NB Lesbians. Not a confidence inspiring turnout.

I spent the event making pleasant conversation, but as time went on I noticed that only the other transwoman and transman had really treated me normally. Everyone else was pleasant enough that I didn't fully suss out what was wrong until my roommate noted that they had all seemed a bit transphobic towards me. After that the pieces fell into place.

I can only assume its the masculine gender expression tied to the possession of a weapon (cock). I wasn't overly forward. I talked about a theoretical pet alligator, archeological digs, wind chimes, and architecture that I enjoy (Byzantine domes). Perfectly mundane and engaging topics. But I was treated like something unsightly. A task to be gotten through.

It hurts to show up to the event organized for people like me and still be excluded. I had avoided every other event for precisely this reason. I still found myself ostracized. This is not the first time this has happened.

I know that most of the people who follow this blog are cool. Believe it or not I've vetted each and every one of you.

You shouldn't need to be told this.

Address your internal biases. Please.

[ofswordsandpens]

actually I do want to talk about Sally Jackson a tad more because one criticism I've been hearing about her book counterpart more recently is "book Sally is one-dimensional: the perfect mother with no flaws" and that just has me biting my cheek because one part of her book counterpart that I always thought was ripe with discussion and didn't make it to the show is that Sally states that it was selfish of her to keep Percy close. It's one of the last things she says to him before she's "killed" by the minotaur.

And there's so much that we don't know about Sally because we view her from Percy's eyes. From his perspective we know that she's exceedingly kind, she never raises her voice to him or even Gabe, and she endured a horrible and abusive relationship to protect her son from monsters (of a different kind).

But there are things we can piece together from the text: Sally has known about CHB for a long time, apparently since before Percy was even born because Poseidon told her he wanted to send Percy there; she was told that it was a mistake for her to keep Percy close - who told her that, we're not sure, she only uses the phrase they; she's been in contact with Grover through out the school year; she knows that she can't cross the camp boundary line, which means either Grover or someone else (Chiron? Poseidon?) told her that, and that she understood that there was place that Percy would be safe from monsters.

And all of these little details are so interesting because it does make you wonder just how much she did or didn't know. Was her self assessment right? Was it selfish of her to keep Percy close?

On one hand, she kept him close because she loved him, alongside the fear that if she sent him to camp, she would be saying goodbye for good -- so is it even fair to call the act of keeping him close selfish? Or perhaps, much like Chiron, she assumed keeping Percy in the dark would be safer?

But on the other hand, Percy had been attracting monsters all his childhood, she understood camp was a safe place from monsters, and she had apparently been told explicitly that it was a mistake for her to keep him close.

And then adding in the factors of: Percy is her only family in the entire world, she's been suffering with Gabe for years, sacrificing so much in order to keep Percy safe when he's at home... but even that has a touch of sad irony because when we meet Percy in tlt, its at point when he's not really home at all -- he's been regularly sent off to boarding schools, so much so that he's internalized it as his own short-coming.

And all of this isn't to say "Omg Sally is actually horrible" or to assert definitely that she is selfish... but more to speak to the fact that in the books, she's not an all-perfect 2-dimensional mother. And her self-assessment of selfishness is something that is really interesting to explore and debate given the implications of what she apparently did (or did not) know about the godly world. I feel there's even an argument to be made that Sally being "selfish" could be a reflection of Percy's fatal flaw.

[aperrywilliams]

Little Big Secret (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator)

——————

Author Masterlist

——————

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: You’re 36 weeks pregnant with Spencer’s baby. What happens when you are about to give birth and need to contact Spencer while he is in a case out of town?

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Pregnancy and labor symptoms are described. Some strong words. If I missed something, let me know. It's a fluffy one. Dad!Spencer coming to light. The chaotic trio I love having their moment (Reid-Morgan-Prentiss).

A/N: I wrote this fic based on this request. I loved doing it! Let me know what you think.

——————

Being 36 weeks pregnant and stuck in your apartment trying to convince your non-born baby girl to stop kicking your guts is not funny. It's worse when the same scenario occurs at 3 am, and you are alone, unable to sleep in the last 24 hours, exhausted and sentimental because your boyfriend Spencer isn't home.

You won't tell him that, though. You convinced him to go with the team to Trenton for a case, telling him you would be okay and that baby girl Reid won't be here for at least two weeks. That's what your doctor said to you in the last appointment.

Reluctantly Spencer agreed, making you swear you would call him or your sister if anything happened.

"Relax, baby. Everything will be okay. We'll be here when you return from your case," you assured him. "You have to go while you can. Once this girl is born, you'll be stuck here and will get tired of us," you giggled. Spencer's eyes widened.

"What? No! Get tired of you? Never!"

"About that. Do they know why you are taking leave in the next weeks?"

"Not really. Hotch knows, but the rest assume I'll go to see my mom," your boyfriend shrugged.

You still find it unbelievable that the best-known profilers in the country haven't noticed one of their own has a girlfriend for three years and a baby on the way.

At first, you had your apprehensions about why Spencer didn't want his team to know your existence. You thought maybe Spencer felt embarrassed because of you or didn't consider your relationship worth enough for them to know. But your boyfriend assured you it was anything but that. He told you what happened to Haley, Hotch's wife, and the multiple times a team's family member has been exposed to danger because of their job. He wanted you safe. He wanted to protect you.

The only one who knew about you was Hotch, Spencer's boss. But he, better than anyone, could understand Spencer's reasons, so he hadn't said anything.

You understood it and accepted it, even if you both knew that at some point, your secret would not be a secret anymore. For now, it was safer like this.

Exhaustion was all you got now, and even you have been trying to bribe your unborn daughter with chocolates if she behaved and let you sleep. It seemed you succeeded as she stopped making a party in your womb.

You fall asleep thinking about how your life has changed in the past years and how happy you were despite how uncomfortable pregnancy was at this point.

The next morning you woke up feeling a little better. Sleep helped, but your body was still tense, so you thought a warm bath after breakfast was a good idea to relax your sore muscles.

You were finishing your pancakes when Spencer called you.

"Hey, baby!" You greeted.

"Good morning, my love. How did you sleep?"

You didn't have the heart to tell him how uncomfortable you were last night.

"Good. Everything is good here. How is the case?" You tried to direct the topic to him. Spencer sighed.

"I think we are close to catching the unsub, but it had been hard," he confessed.

"I know you'll get him soon," you assured him. Spencer chuckled. He loved how you were always rooting for him. You were his biggest fan.

"I hope so. And you? Our baby girl has been good? When I come back-" he didn't even finish the sentence when someone called his name in the distance. 'Reid! We need you now!'

A heavy sigh left Spencer's lips.

"I'm sorry, love. I got to go," he mumbled into the receiver, guilt dripping from his voice.

"Hey, it's okay. Don't apologize and go to catch the bad guy," you encouraged him.

"I will. I love you so so much. And I love our little one. I promise to make it up to you both, okay?"

"I love you more. We'll be waiting for you."

Despite your efforts to relax during your bath, it seemed baby Reid had other plans, like moving and squeezing your insides. You tried singing to her, telling stories, and everything that came to mind.

You gave up and hopped off the tub. You dried your body and decided to watch some TV. After a while, stuck in a random show, the noise lulled you to sleep without noticing.

Everything would have been perfect if it weren't for the fact that an intense pain woke you up suddenly. You didn't know the time, but the TV was still on. You tried to sit on the sofa, but the pain wouldn't leave you, so much so that it was hard for you to breathe. The twisting in your belly was stronger than you'd ever felt and scaring you.

"My sweet girl, I know you're eager to see us, but you have some days left in Mommy's womb, so try to be nice, okay?" You panted, trying to reason with your baby.

You weren't ready to give birth, let alone without Spencer.

But, again, baby Reid had her own plans.

Another sharp pang made you slouch on the sofa; this time, you felt something warm running down your legs. You looked down and saw the liquid drip onto the couch and slide to the floor.

Fuck. Your water just broke.

-

The morning was a rush for the whole team and the Tremont police. After an anonymous tip, they located the guy who fitted the profile and ended up being the unsub they were looking for. As he had a hostage, the team moved quickly to the warehouse where he kept captive his ex-girlfriend, the source of his rage. Before things went further, Rossi's shot ended with the unsub screaming in pain and the hostage a nervous wreck but unharmed.

Spencer couldn't believe it took them a whole week to locate the bastard, but it was finally done. So they returned to the precinct to wrap the last details and go home.

Spencer was pulling the case photos off the board when his phone started ringing. He saw it was you and hastened to answer. Usually, you didn't call him while he was working.

"Hello?"

But a loud grunt came to his ear instead of your sweet voice. Spencer's eyes widened.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?"

You barely could say a word, the intense pain reducing you to heavy breathing and whimpers.

"Spence-" you managed to say. "The baby. It hurts."

It didn't take a genius to figure out what was happening."Where are you? What's wrong? Where is Tania?"

Too many questions, and you had answers for all of them. But it was difficult to say a word with the pain cursing your body. After the contraction subsided, you could speak.

"My water broke. I'm home, and Tania doesn't answer. I don't know- ahhhh, fuck!!!"

Shit. You were in labor and alone at home. Spencer wanted to throw up.

"Baby, listen to me. I will call 911, but I need you to breathe, okay?"

"No! Spencer, don't hang up. I need you," you cried.

Spencer paced frantically in the room as Emily, Morgan, and Rossi looked at him, worried.

To call 911? Who the hell was he talking to?

"Reid? What is it?" Morgan tried to get his attention, but Spencer's brain was trying to make a plan to help you without stopping talking to you.

“(Y/N), please. I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me, please?"

JJ and Hotch entered the room at that moment. Both frowned when they saw Spencer pacing and the rest standing and waiting to know what was going on and what to do to help Spencer.

“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?"

You couldn't reply to him, crying in pain instead. Spencer thought he could die of panic.

"Yes. But I can't move," you sobbed.

Hotch didn't need much to understand what was going on. Grabbing his phone, he called Penelope.

Spencer was reduced to dumb and didn't know what to do.

"Garcia, I need you to call 911 and dispatch an ambulance to..." he paused and looked at Spencer, who was talking to you. "Reid," Hotch named. When he got no response, he tried louder. "Reid! Where? Where is she?" Spencer's face found Hotch's.

"At my place," he told his boss.

"Garcia, an ambulance to Reid's address. Report a pregnant woman in labor that needs to go to the hospital. I need you to go there too. Make sure she gets to the hospital alright. I'll give you more information later."

Pregnant woman in labor at Spencer's address?

Morgan, Prentiss, JJ, and Rossi shared the same confused looks.

"Baby, the help is on the way. Penelope knows and will help you to go to the hospital. She has a key, so don't worry. I'm on my way, okay? I'll call Tania too," Spencer informed you, moving to collect his things.

"Please, hurry up," you begged. As the call ended, Spencer turned to see his boss.

"Hotch. I have to-. I need to-," Spencer stuttered. Aaron nodded.

"It'll be okay; we are leaving now," he assured Spencer.

Morgan was the first to bring the elephant in the room.

"Can you tell us what's going on?"

Then, Spencer noticed the team hearing the whole ordeal.

"Uh. My 36-week pregnant girlfriend is giving birth to my daughter right now, and she's alone. I need to be there," Spencer succinctly explained as he dialed (Y/N)'s sister's number again without luck.

To say the team was shocked was an understatement. But there wasn't time to ask questions. They needed to move quickly.

Hotch was who took the lead.

"Morgan, you'll drive to the hospital with Reid and Prentiss now. I'll stay with JJ and Rossi to pack everything and follow you. The drive to DC is about three hours; make it two. I'll take care of the traffic police," he said to Morgan, who nodded, grabbing the car keys. "Prentiss, you'll get an open line with Garcia while she joins (Y/N) and takes her to the hospital. Now go!" Hotch instructed, now patting Spencer's back. "You'll get on time. Go," he told Spencer, who nodded and stomped from the room, followed by Morgan and Prentiss.

-

"Hey, Reid. We'll make it, kid," Morgan assured while driving on the highway, Emily as the copilot. In the back seat, Spencer couldn't stop bouncing his leg, worried about if the ambulance had already taken you to the hospital. On cue, Emily's phone went off.

"Garcia, you're on speaker," Emily announced.

"My lovelies, good news. I got your girl, boy Wonder, and we're heading to the hospital. Besides the pain, she's fine," Garcia recounted, and Spencer could breathe again.

"Can I talk to her?" Spencer asked.

"No, yet; they have her in the stretcher and with oxygen while monitoring her, but as we reach the hospital and will get her admitted, we can call you again. Nonetheless, she asked me to tell you she hated you for putting a baby in her. I really like this girl already," Garcia quipped, making laugh Emily and Morgan. Spencer's cheeks flushed.

"Garcia?" He sheepishly asked. "Can you tell her I love her and am on my way?"

Morgan and Prentiss looked at each other briefly. They still couldn't believe what was happening, but either way, they had a mission to accomplish: get to the hospital before you gave birth, so the resident genius could see his baby born.

"Sure thing. I will. I'll keep you posted," Garcia assured before hanging up.

Spencer could sense that Emily and Morgan were itching to cover him with questions, but knowing his nervous state, they were respectful enough not to say anything.

"I'm sorry, guys. I didn't tell you anything about (Y/N) before," he mumbled.

"And the baby," Emily added with a non-malice tone.

Spencer's face fell with embarrassment. They were his family, after all. And he kept this little big secret from them.

"But we get it, Reid. We do," Morgan ensured.

"Yeah?"

"Yes. We all know this job, and we want the best for our loved ones, keeping them safe," Prentiss said, turning to see Spencer, who nodded. "What I still can't believe is that you kept us in the dark for three years, and none of us ever suspected a thing. They should fire us," Emily added, making Spencer chuckle.

"What I can't believe is you were able to make someone fall in love with you," Morgan quipped, smirking and gaining a slap on the arm from Prentiss. "And get her pregnant! You have been having a game all this time, and I still thought I needed to be your wingman," Morgan scoffed.

"Worst wingman on earth. He had had to do all the work for himself," Emily added. The three laughed.

They were still with an ETA of one hour when Penelope Facetimed.

"Garcia! How is she?" Spencer rushed to ask.

"Hello to you, genius," Penelope greeted. "(Y/N) is already in a room. She's 7 centimeters of dilatation, so we're waiting," she informed, turning the camera to focus you on the bed, exhausted but relieved of being in the hospital already.

"Honey!" Spencer shouted as Garcia handed the phone.

"Are you coming?" you asked in a broken tone. You didn't have much energy at this point.

"Yes! On my way now. Morgan is driving us with Emily," he informed you.

"We're almost there, pretty girl!" Morgan yelled from the driver's seat.

You let a wary smile. Spencer only wanted to be there with you so he could hold you.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled.

"No. No. Why are you sorry? You have nothing to apologize for, okay?" Spencer hastened to point.

"Our little big secret is no longer a secret," you pouted, feeling guilty about the whole ordeal.

"Baby, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is you and our little girl being okay. Believe me; it's the only that matters to me. I'm sorry for leaving you," Spencer sniffled.

"I love you," you said, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"And I love you so much," Spencer declared, wiping his tears.

You both kept in Facetime for a while. Spencer tried to keep you focused on anything but the pain, though it was difficult when a deep contraction raked your body from time to time.

Spencer recited your favorite poems and stories and recounted your best memories together. As a natural thing, Emily, Morgan, or Penelope made questions and comments about the things you or Spencer said. That helped. You felt accompanied, not only by your boyfriend but also by the beautiful people who were taking care of you and him. If you ever thought Spencer's coworkers didn't care about him, now all those doubts are cleared.

"We're getting there in five!" Morgan announced.

"Garcia, please tell the staff Spencer is coming so they let him rush upstairs," Emily requested.

"On it!" Garcia chirped. “The doctor is here, so I’ll hang up. Boy Wonder, the third floor, hall to the left,” she informed before the call ended.

Pushing the brakes in front of the hospital’s entrance, Morgan turned to Spencer.

"Go, pretty boy. We'll be there waiting," the man assured.

"Go to see your girls," Emily added. Spencer’s eyes were full of tears.

"Thank you. Really, thank you so much," he voiced before climbing off the SUV and rushing inside the hospital.

-

The doctor announced you were almost ready to give birth now. Just another centimeter of dilation, and you’ll need to push. After he left, you squeezed Penelope’s hand hard. You weren't sure you could do this.

“It’s okay, pumpkin. You can do it. Spencer is already here,” she comforted you. Garcia had just ended her sentence when Spencer rushed inside the room, panting and looking frantically. When he spotted you, you could see the tears in his eyes.

“Spencer!” you cried. He quickly lugged to your side. Garcia sighed, relieved that he was there. Spencer held your hand now, kissing your temple.

“I’m here, my love. I’m here. I won’t leave again,” he chanted, stroking your damped hair.

It was Penelope’s cue to leave the couple alone. But before Garcia crossed the threshold, Spencer ran to her and wrapped her in the tightest embrace he ever gave her.

“Thank you, thank you. For everything,” he mumbled. Garcia could have started crying, but it would be time for that later.

“Anytime, my love. Now go back to your woman. We’ll be outside waiting.” A grateful Spencer nodded before joining you again.

You didn't reach the last centimeter until an hour later. Spencer stood by your side, chanting praises and pushing away your sweat with a cloth whenever you needed it.

When the time came, you were pushing with all the strength you left, but your little girl wasn’t doing it easy for you.

“Spencer, I can’t,” you sobbed. Spencer kissed your head and stroked your hand.

“I know you’re exhausted, my love. But you’re almost there. We’re going to meet our little girl. Want that, right, my little pumpkin?” he talked now to your belly. The waiting room is full of aunts and uncles, ready to see you. They already love you, even if they didn't know about you until three hours ago,” Spencer pointed, and you let out a little chuckle in the middle of the pain.

The feeling of being cared for and loved gave you the last ounce of energy you needed. In the next contraction, you pushed harder, ending with a loud baby cry. Your daughter was here.

When they put her in your arms, wrapped in a white blanket, you couldn't believe it. She was the most beautiful baby in the world—the best combination between Spencer and you.

“You did so good, my love. She’s wonderful, and she’s here with us,” Spencer said, voice full of emotion and tears freely rolling down his cheeks.

You couldn’t stop looking at her.

“Our little big secret,” you cooed. “You’re a lucky baby already,” you whispered to her. Spencer chuckled.

“Should I go to tell them?” He asked you.

“They will kill you if you don’t,” you quipped.

When Spencer showed up in the waiting room, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ were there too.

All eyes were on him.

“A 7 pounds, 2 ounces, and 19.6 inches healthy baby girl,” Spencer announced, the biggest grin plastered on his face.

The room erupted in cheers and claps, everyone taking turns to hug the new father.

Once everyone calmed down, Spencer cleared his throat.

“I want to apologize for keeping this from you. I don't want you to think I don't trust or care enough to tell you about the important things in my life. It's just- you know,” Spencer trailed off. Rossi patted his shoulder.

“We know, kid. We really do,” the older man assured him.

“Yeah, Spence. We understand. That doesn't mean it’s not a big thing, but we get it,” JJ seconded.

“We are just jealous because Hotch was the only one who knew,” Garcia scoffed.

“Boss privilege, I guess,” Hotch shrugged, making the rest laugh.

“Well, being (Y/N) and baby Reid not a little big secret anymore, we can meet them properly, right?” Morgan pointed.

“Oh, yes! Please! I want to meet my goddaughter!” Garcia chirped, and Spencer looked at her, frowning.

“Don’t look at me like that, doctor. I won the privilege when I held that poor woman in pain,” she added.

“Maybe you’ll be the godmother, but I’ll be the cool aunt,” Emily chirped.

“And I’ll be Papa Rossi,” David seconded.

Spencer shook his head, laughing as everyone on the team fought for a place in his daughter's life.

He was so happy to have you and baby Reid. But now his happiness was complete knowing he could share it, and his whole found family could be part of it.

-------

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine​ @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

[pseudowho]

Operation: Babymaker-- Grapple

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

💜 💛 Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💜 💛 Part 2 LINK HERE: Benchpress

💜 💛 Part 3 LINK HERE: Ditch the Party...again

💜 💛 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💜 💛 Part 5 LINK HERE: Honeytrap/Maid Café

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink, fertility/infertility discussion, playfighting gets sexy, physical restraint, assumed consent of established relationship, assumed teacher/student roles, submissive and breedable, hints of breath play, semi-public sex, PiV, fingering, cumplay 💛

You didn't expect to be thinking of your husband, while pinned beneath another man.

What was meant to be a simple capture mission for a wayward Curse user, had instead exposed a stunning weak point in your skills.

You'd expected Cursed techniques, not a fist-fight. This showed, when you'd been put in a chokehold, thrown to the ground, and felt the blind panic of the Curse user climbing on top of you, reaching down with a dirty little smirk, to put his hands around your neck. Images of Kento; smiling, his arms around your waist, reading in the sun-dappled grass, always victorious in hand to hand combat, flooded your mind, suddenly blinded by memory--

Thank goodness for the boy.

"O-oh shit-- Mrs.Nanamin--!"

You had barely a moment to register the nickname, before your deadly boy of peaches and punches dragged the Curse user off you. On your back, panting up at the ceiling, you listened to the coordinated thumps and grunts from the next room, as Yuuji beat the Curse user like a sack of flour.

Silence. Footsteps. Peach fuzz, leaning round the corner.

"...Mrs.Nanamin?"

"That's Mrs.Nanamin-sensei to you, kiddo."

Yuuji grinned, reaching down, and you let him pull you up. Your cheeks were flushed, angry with mortification, prickling beneath the crippling weight of being so weak. Yuuji looked awkward, rubbing the back of his head. You huffed to the next room, trying to drag the unconscious Curse user like a bag of potatoes.

You huffed again, angrier this time as you shouted to nobody in particular, the stress of memory coming out sideways.

"God, why am I so FUCKING USELESS--"

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

After the latest batch of negative pregnancy tests, your morale was low.

"Six months, Kento!" You cried, each month longer than the last as you flurried round the kitchen with tears in your eyes. Kento stood in silence, holding court for your rage and bitter tears, his arms folded across his chest.

You slammed the bin too sharply, swung cupboards open with a crack, flicked the kettle on like it was personal. Kento waited for your disappointment to abate, before he spoke, low and slow.

"...it's normal, my love. I know you're disappointed. But we'll get there. Six months isn't that long. Sometimes...these things just take time." You bristled, turning on him, your lip crumpling up.

"Are you not disappointed?" Kento looked at you over glasses that weren't there, reading, unfighting in a way that left you exposed. He walked to you, his words blanketing.

"Not with you. I haven't lost anything. I just have a little longer to look forwards to something new." Kento's arms slipped round your waist, a nuzzle against your ear, taking your vulnerability and cradling it in his palms. "Is that so bad?"

You deflated, the fight loved out of you. You looked at the pregnancy test on the counter, and its stark single pink line. You whispered, in part to Kento, and in part to yourself as he lifted you onto the counter, settling between your legs like it was home.

"...no. I suppose it's not so bad."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

When Nanami Kento had offered to teach hand-to-hand combat at Jujutsu High, they'd leapt at the chance. Principal Yaga bore down over Kento while Kento looked round in alarm, willingly signing the contract he had asked to sign.

These simulated fights, so much safer than the real fights, kept Kento closer to you in a way you needed, viscerally. He'd miraculously walked out of Shibuya with nothing more than cuts and bruises, but it did little to ease your terror of having almost lost him.

You searched the school, following the blue-fire feel of him in the air; you followed the trail, as if grasped by a yellow spotted tie, silkwrapped around the palm of your hand, pulling you to him. You found him, panting with sweatsheen arms, beginning to tidy equipment in the empty gymnasium.

Kento looked up as you approached; in a white vest, and grey joggers, barefoot, his hands were wrapped with white tape, dusty with chalk. With his sweatslick honey hair swept back, his crooked smile rerouted a droplet of sweat on the way down his jaw.

"Lover." Kento greeted, low and husky, his voice scratchy from the heat of simulated battle. You leaned against a stack of gym mats, smiling, in your own gymwear.

"Been beating up children again? Who was it this time?" Kento chuckled, gravelly, lifting a medicine ball to the side with shocking ease. Your eyes traced his bare arms, and the undulating shift of corded muscles there, thick and powerful.

"Fushiguro. He asked for it." You laughed, as Kento dusted his hands together, chalkdust puffing into the air. Kento smiled again, still crooked, huffing a laugh. "No, he really did."

"I should think he regrets that."

"He's learned some important lessons."

"Like, the way to Shoko's office?"

"Yes. Amongst others, I hope."

Silence sat between you both, as Kento leaned back against the gym mats beside you. He held court again, this time for your unasked questions.

"...Kento. I...need some help. I'm, uh...lacking."

He was silent, still. You looked sideways, to find his eyes roaming the length of your body, caressing. Kento still thrummed with the testosterone and adrenaline of the fight; you could taste it, rendered primal by nature.

"...are you? I wouldn't agree." He hummed, keen eyes now zeroing in on his favourite parts of you, undressing you. You tried not to shudder at the unexpected heat pooling between your legs. When you spoke again, your tongue felt thick, rendered stupid by Kento's biological warfare.

"I'm...dreadful at fighting. Hand-to-hand combat. I'm too reliant on my Cursed technique." The respect with which Kento listened did nothing to mask the disrespect in his eyes. His grey joggers left nothing to the imagination.

"And...you want to learn, I assume." God, that voice, so much rustier than usual, sent daggers straight through your--

"Yeah. Yep. Yes. You assume right. I need...need you, uh...to teach me." You chirped, shaking off that second heartbeat, turning to face him.

You continued turning, magnetised as Kento held your gaze. He walked backwards onto the gym-mats, still marked by chalk-dust art of the animated human form. You swallowed, and Kento's eyes swam with something altogether more dangerous than desire alone. He widened his stance, his hands raised in preparation.

"Well...why don't you show me what you've got so far? As a baseline." You blushed, suddenly awkward in your body as you walked over to the mat, facing him. Kento had schooled his facial expression to his usual flat impassive gaze, but noticeably more shark-like.

"Like...just...come at you?"

"Mhm. Hit me."

You raised your hands, awkwardly balling them into fists, taking a step closer. You flushed at the microflexes of preparation that rippled over Kento's body, suddenly burning alive as you cocked your arm back, and--

"Thumbs out."

"Uh...sorry?"

Kento looked over absent glasses again. "Thumbs out. If you hit someone with your fists in your grip, you'll break your thumbs."

"Ah...right, okay." Being taught by Kento made you run hot, strangely submissive in the assumed teacher-student role. The heat only worsened with the way he was looking at you, fuck, I'd be done for if he really were my teacher--

You jabbed, darting forwards, a fist straight towards Kento's face. In a split second, he dipped sideways, stepping into a grab, and looped your arm behind you as you gasped, his other arm in an arresting grip around your neck, his body flush to yours from behind. You felt his breath, hot against your neck, and you shivered from hairline to toes.

"Plan your second move." Kento murmured, his lips against your ear, grazing you...tasting you. "You left yourself...wide open."

"Wide...wide open." You gasped, your vision swimming with the power of Kento's forceful restraint, biology overtaking sense and feminism as your clit throbbed. "O-okay."

Kento hummed against your ear, releasing you with what you felt was the briefest reluctance. He barked at you, his face sterner now-- "Again." --his eyes burning into you as you prepared yourself.

You punched again, this time towards his belly with a low-blow. Kento grunted, and you squeaked as he took the hit without flinching, your hand hitting concrete surely that is a brick fucking wall not a man at all shit--

You felt your legs swept from under you, and landed flat on your back with a bam, crying out and wincing, before opening your eyes. Kento prowled around above you, panting with something other than exertion.

In truth, if you hadn't shown up, he'd have been fucking his fist in the showers. While fighting in itself did not thrill Kento, the resulting burst of testosterone in the adrenaline comedown left his cock rigid and pulsing in a way that pissed him off.

He had not been able to shower; had not been able to lean on his forearm, cursing under the hot water as he furiously stroked himself in his hand, and imagined it was your cunt instead, still yet to quicken his seed within your belly, leaving him feeling somewhat lacking in a way he would never let you know but god he wanted you round and full and blooming so he could fill you again and prove you were his and--

"You can do better than that." Kento growled, something twitching in his jaw. Your chest heaved, looking up at him with glistening doe-eyes that went straight to his cock. He turned as he paced, swallowing hard, running a hand through his hair. "Get up. Lie there on your back, and someone will pin you down."

You stood on shaking legs, wondering how Kento seemed somehow bigger than usual. He stood opposite you again, electrified and taut. The same current passed through you again, and again, and again. You wondered vaguely, how to verbalise how you really wanted him to fight you and to make sure you didn't win so he could take his spoils from your body just as he pleased with you pinned and wet beneath him--

You swung your leg, turning sideways as you kicked...straight into his awaiting grasp. Kento grunted, your ankle under his arm, and drew you in, reeling you in by your leg as you hopped, crying out.

He couldn't disguise the wolfish smirk on his face by this point, and you yelled, laughing, until he reached your thigh, dropping you to the floor and pressing himself between your legs with a satisfied grunt.

"Left yourself open aga--oof--" You took Kento by surprise, rolling him over with your hips, straddling him on the floor. Kento coughed, the briefest how dare you on his lips as he pinched your inner thighs until you gasped, flipping himself on top again.

"--c'mere-- stop squirming-- shit, when I get you--"

"--come on Mr.Nanami, thought you-- fuck-- thought you were-- meant to be good at this--"

Any serious attempt at an education had turned into playful grappling, all hushed giggles and gasps, and Kento's heavy breaths against your skin as he tried to pin you down, too squirmy for him, every inch of you brushing against his rigid cock in a way that drove him mad, growing brittle, more dominant by the second.

Kento groaned against your neck, panting, bear-hugging you.

"--got...haaah...got you-- now-- fuck, stop fighting me--"

You tumbled around each other, your hits growing more powerful as his hands shook with restraint. You tried to crawl away as he dragged you back by your ankles with a growl, pressing into you from behind, and you bucked, throwing him off. Kento cursed, spitting feathers as you kicked out madly, grasping your ankles and pulling them apart so he could pin you down with his hips.

You flipped yourself over with a squeak, trying to claw yourself away, and Kento took his opportunity. He crushed you to the floor from behind, caging you, one thick arm looped around your neck as his whole body heaved with effort.

You stilled, just a little mouse in his jaws, as you felt the twitching heavy length of him rutting lazily into your arse. You felt the blood drain from your head, all the way down to your pussy, leaving you plush and throbbing and ready. You clawed at his forearm, half-hearted, hearing him rumble against your neck.

"--got you...I've got you...fuck..."

"K-Kento...please-- please--"

You squeaked to feel Kento's sharp canines sink into the back of your neck, your squirming only drawing out his groan into something needy and desperate. You felt his other hand trail downwards, cupping the whole length of your pussy from behind, trying to feel the shape of you through your thin gym clothes. You shivered, gulping against his arm.

"Please what?" Kento groaned, his hand reluctantly leaving your pussy to start to inch your gym leggings down, pawing and kneading at the plush of your hips on the way. You shivered, submitting with a bite of the lip, choking out around his arm.

"Please...fill me up...Kento."

Kento groaned, low and long. You felt him nuzzle against the shell of your ear, dexterous hands now yanking your gym leggings down, flinging them aside with conviction.

"Again. Say it again."

"P-please fuck a baby into me, Kento--"

Kento clapped a hand over your mouth, cursing as your hot little breaths leaked out through his fingers.

"You...you only think you know how much time I spend obsessing over it." Kento whispered, husky with desperation. You shivered to feel thick, calloused fingertips begin to tease between your folds, pinching and rolling the flesh around your clit until you whimpered under his hand. "Every day, getting up for work, when all I want is your hips lifted on pillows, so I can fuck myself empty into you again and again."

You felt Kento's fingers increase in pace, rolling, massaging rolling your pert little nub between his fingers, pleasuring you completely, until the itch of bliss started to creep through your hips and belly.

"F-fuck, Kento...please just...just..." You squirmed, wanting to be stretched, and worn by him, placing your pleasure behind duty. Kento bit deeper into the back of your neck, pinning you harder in chastisement.

"Just...just...what? Just fuck you?" Kento laughed, a dry little scoff behind your ear. He pressed a lingering kiss to your temple, his fingers working with expert knowledge of your twitches and jerks, guiding you by the hand towards your orgasm. "No...we won't be like that. We won't...put aside enjoyment just for the sake of a positive test. No...you'll cum when I say you'll cum."

You mewled, feeling his hand clap over your mouth again to muffle it, shushing you gently, a cautious eye glancing towards the door through his shuddering breaths. Kento's grey joggers did little to disguise the heavy weight of his cock, swollen and needy, with beads of pre-cum gradually darkening the fabric around the tip.

"Be as loud as you like at home...but here? You already interrupted me coming in my hand in the shower--" Kento continued through your squeak of alarm, "--but I won't be interrupted again. Need-- need to cum inside you. Sorry...shit, feel so wet-- good girl--"

Your vision went hazy, your breaths fracturing. Your clamping thighs and arching did little to slow the pace of Kento's fingers, dragging you over the edge like you were on rails. Feeling him pinch and roll your wet fleshy clit, your pussy clenched around nothing as you came with a whimper and a cry, trying desperately to buck anything inside you.

Before you'd even finished your peak, you heard Kento cursing and growling, removing and then replacing his hand for just long enough to press his weeping tip to your entrance, and rub you through the rest of your pleasure.

You squealed aloud beneath the insistent pressure of Kento's hand, as his cock fucked in ragged thrusts through slick cheeks and puffy folds, before burying to the hilt with desperate urgency. Being filled partway through your peak, to the soundtrack of Kento's growling curses, turned your ecstasy lightheaded, your ears ringing as you felt him fuck against your soft spot, barely pulling out.

"...mmmfff...K'n...oooo..."

"Sorry." He gasped, not sorry at all as lights fizzed in his eyes. "Missed that. Bit busy...fuck--so tight--make you tighter--"

Kento kicked the ankles of your outstretched legs to cross, and groaned, deep and guttural, to feel you squeeze his cock even tighter. He bit into your shoulder, crushing you harder against the gym mat with his brisk, deep thrusts.

Kento didn't let you come down, his fingers continuing to rub from side to side over your clit, swiping over the sensitive nub and the deeper wings beside it with such speed, the pleasure burned as one, consuming you in holy fire. You clasped at the hand and arm over your mouth, twitching and convulsing with such savage pleasure, that Kento rendered you base, animalistic.

"--g-good girl...good girl-- shit, pussy sucks harder than y-your mouth...take it. Sh...shit-- take it--"

Your husband had been replaced, spitting dirty talk like venom, his handsome face twisted into something monstrous, needier than you'd ever seen him. Kento slammed into you as though he were a man who needed to prove something to himself-- to you.

You couldn't work out where one orgasm ended and another began, but Kento could. As you moaned behind his hand, your throat sore with whimpers, Kento gasped, shuddering as his thrusts lost coordination, yanked against the hook behind his navel.

"--that'sit...unngghhhhn f-fuck...I'm...I'm..."

Kento rumbled into broken groans, complete and fracturing above you, feeling his orgasm roll through him in thick, sticky waves. He only hoped, vaguely, that it was deep enough, or good enough, or simply enough, his lips pressed in reverence to your sweaty temple as he filled you in moaning pulses.

You panted together through your comedown, Kento's hold on you unchanging, but somehow transforming into an embrace over an arrest. You stroked his forearm, and jolted to feel his fingertips probing around your entrance, fingering the cuff of your flesh around the base of his cock, still buried inside you.

"--au-augh K-Kento...what--"

"Shhh...don't move."

As you stilled, trying to slow your heaving breaths, you heard Kento shudder and groan as his softening cock slipped out of you. His fingers waited at your entrance...waiting for something--

As soon as the thick ooze of his cum reached his fingertips, Kento caught it, fucking it back inside you as you squealed, mewling and clenching, hypersensitive. Kento hyperfocused on the squelch of your cunt like a man possessed, pressing his seed deeper and deeper.

"...just...allow me to..." He breathed heavily against your neck, pinning you down harder as you bucked and squirmed, "...make sure...that my cum is in exactly the right place--"

You stilled with a guttural groan when Kento's fingertips curled forwards, finding the dimpled opening of your cervix and urging his release towards it. Kento laughed, delirious, breathless in your ear.

"...shit...heaven's gate, hmm? Let's feel her suck it all up..." Kento snaked his other hand beneath you, releasing your mouth to primal gasps, and he had the audacity to tut at you when you whined, as he began working on your clit again, treading softly, gently. His first hand still plugged inside you, his wedding ring slippery with your cream, he began to rub your clit to orgasm again, eager to feel you clench and gulp his seed deeper.

"...got to--got to get tougher with this...shit-- can't stand...seeing you upset, I...get this in your belly if--if it's the last thing I do...you can take it, can't you? Mmm...proud of you-- good girl--"

You could do little but dig crescents into the gym mat with your fingertips, prone as Kento worked you with methodical madness, with both of his hands. Effortlessly, he pushed you past juddering hyperstimulation towards another orgasm, ruinous in its scope, making your belly ache with syrupy-sweet contractions.

Kento marvelled, his jaw going slack and eyes fluttering closed as he felt the twitches of your cervix against his fingertips, and the way your pussy sucked his seed upwards, his fingers ensuring it had nowhere else to go. He let you whimper and convulse this way, shuddering to think of his cum painting your womb.

"--give you a baby-- give you what you want...I...no more disappointment, I swear, I-- fuck, you goddess, I-- love you so much, lover, good girl..."

You flopped, dopey on the comedown, shivering as Kento reluctantly slid his fingers out of you, satisfied to see no more of his cum seeping out. He kissed you, overcome with longing, and peppering it over your eyes, your cheeks, your lips.

"I adore you." Kento intoned, and you believed every ounce of the weight of his love. You swallowed thickly, turning yourself to cup his cheek, faux-stern as his eyes glimmered down at you.

"You...were supposed to be...teaching me how to fight." Kento hummed, chuckling, enjoying the way your jaw dropped as he licked his fingers clean.

"Yes, well...another time, perhaps. For now...I'm sure the showers are free, Mrs.Nanami."

wonderful dividers by @thecutestgrotto

[tododeku-or-bust]

could you elaborate a bit on that post abt (not) wearing headphones in public/playing your phone out loud? i was under the idea that it was nice to not play stuff aloud bc ppl might have migraines or be sound avoidant, but didn't realize i might just be seeing it from a white perspective, and id love to learn more

All right! First, check this link out: Xochitl does a far more eloquent job of explaining the idea than I would:

I assume that you're specifically honing in on my tag about the "white right of comfort".

Okay, so here's the thing. You're allowed to find public noise annoying. I too, find public TikToks and music annoying! And if you have migraines and such, I can understand how it would be impolite and inconvenient.

But what you're NOT allowed to do, is feel entitled to the public and prioritizing your OWN comfort in it over everyone else to the point of DEMANDING that it conforms to you or it's "bad". Especially when there are things you as an individual can do to prevent this discomfort.

While this gross sense of entitlement is very first world American in nature, it is extremely White American in nature because white Americans actually have the social power to enforce what they believe is the "right" thing based on their own standards.

For many cultures around the world and for many people of color, noise in the community is a GOOD thing. It's part of being a community. I feel safer if the people around me feel safe enough to be outside, to exist and to be, visibly in public.

And you got to understand, while many white people think they're genuinely in the right for believing that being loud on public transit or in the public is worth enforcing as a "bad" thing, people of color have literally already been killed for it. A Black teenager was shot in the face for playing music that a white man didn't like. A Black mentally ill man was murdered in front of EVERYBODY on a train because he was having a mental breakdown. This sort of policing ALREADY HAPPENS to us. Hell, even white gays with any sense of community should be aware of how queer gatherings would be shut down for "noise" (when in reality it was bc it was homophobia).

And now people want me to empathize that YOU'RE oppressed by... noise? On Public Transit?? IN PUBLIC?? Kiss my ass lmao.

I've been on trains where a man was legit growling at me like he wanted me dead. Another i saw Teens high on crack. Another where people beg and people sleep and people listen to music. And you know what I did? I turned my OWN music up and went on my way. Because at the end of the day, the only person I control is me!

And if people were REALLY concerned about others welfare, they would COMMUNICATE. no one is willing to say "hey, I have a headache, do you mind-" bc they're afraid of the rejection, so it's easier to demand "well EVERYONE SHOULD BE LIKE ME". Mhm. Learn to confront your issues. But you're not "unsafe" bc music. You're just annoyed, and you'll get over it.

In summary it really gives me "I can give you something to cry about" energy. Bc y'all swear y'all don't understand the existence of an HOA but here yall are replicating the same Karen behaviors, and y'all don't even realize (or maybe even care) how racist you sound. But why would you lmao, that makes you uncomfortable! And damnit, you have a right to comfort!!

[writingoddess1125]

Jessica Rabbit Effect pt. 4

So a lot of people have asked what if Crocodile & Mihawk found out about Buggys hot wife. So here we are!

Previous <<<

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Masterlist <<

• Buggy would be dragging his feet and reluctant on letting you go.. Truthfully he wanted to keep you on his little island village were you could live in ignorance and bliss. (Cause he's possessive)

• However it seemed some things couldnt be helped-

• Especially after your kidnapping attempt. So he felt safer dragging you with him to the Cross Guild meeting-

• "I'm so nervous" You admit, stepping in land as he kept you close.

• "Don't be- You'll be fine. I promise nothing will happen" He stated confidently, you assuming because these men were his friends- (While Buggy ment he'd kill to make sure no one harmed you)

• Once inside you saw them- And you damn near were ready to run back to the ship..

• They looked so much scarier in person!

• Craning your head up to meet the two massive men- Your nerves now all over the place as they just seemed to stare down at you.

• Hard-

• Your hand instinctively squeezing Buggy for reassurance.

• "Croc, Hawk- This is my Wife (Y/N)" Buggy said calmly with a hint of irriation in his voice at having them meet you at all, keeping a secure hand on your waist as you smiled softly at the two infamous men, still a bit nervous.

• "It's lovely to meet you both"

• Sir Crocodile and Mihawk exchanged puzzled glances as they stood before Buggy's wife.

• Perplexed-

• This pretty women was Buggy's wife?- Sure they had both heard rumors that she was apparently attractive but they assumed this was just Buggy's dramatic words floating around.

• However you were actually gorgeous!?

• Crocodile muttered, "Lovely to meet you as well-" Migawk nodding in greeting to you.

• "I know its a bit short notice me coming here and all, vut I made you both some gifts as a gesture of kindness" You say so sweetly as you reach into your bag and pull out the nice gifts for both of them nicely wrapped in colored tissue paper. Mentally praying Buggy's information was correct.

• Both Guild Leaders took the gifts in question- Still assuming something about this was fishy as both slowly ripped the tissue paper to take a peak at what you'd made.

• You had made a beautiful silk orange gold puff tie for Sir Crocodile since Buggy kept saying he was wearing a 'scarf' as a tie (But you knew better that it's a Puff Tie and not a scarf)

• And for Sir Mihawk you made him a white ocean cotton button down with front frills, you didn't make it as dramatic as you typically made Buggys but it was a incredibly pretty and beautiful shirt that would be comforble to wear whenever.

• Both men stared at the gifts, like they were trying to figure out what sort of trickery this was.

• "You made these?" Mihawk questioned at first,

• "I'm a seamstress" You state calmly, a bit worried they wouldn't be interested. However smiled when Crocodile complemented your craft and the quality of the tie.

• Once inside the main meeting room, conversation flowed naturally, You chatting up both men so they could become familiar with you. Even telling them the story of how you and Buggy met all those years ago.

• "Are you wanted to married him?-" Crocodile mused, taking another drag of his cigar.

• "Of course! He's so sweet afterall" Buggy looked miffed by Crocodiles words and the fact you gushed so much-

• Mihawk was the most interested in you however, taking sips of wine as he looked over you calmly.

• "Would you reconsider your marriage for a more suitable option?-" He so bluntly asked which made you blink in total surprise.

• "HEY!" Buggy yelled, Wrapping a protective arm around you as he began to yell at Mihawk for daring to 'hit on' his lovely wife- His temper definitely getting the best of him.

• Buggy throwing a full on tantrum now as he pointed a finger at Mihawk and screamed at him. The yellow eyed man grabbing his sword in warning-

• You flushed in embrassment and patted Buggys arm gently to calm him down before he got chopped to bits. "No No- I'm very happy in my marriage and love my husband dearly. I wouldn't choose anyone else-"

• Buggy stopped his little tantrum and seemed to be soothed by your gentle hands and soft words.

• Both pirates respecting such a loyal trait and moving on from such conversations.

• Both Guild Leaders found you quite enjoyable- You had wonderful humor, great in terms of conversation and essentially made up for everything your husband lacked.

• Work did take place however, Buggy and the two men talking over strategies of wealth and gaining a greater sense of power between them all.

• They did however find it irritating they couldn't beat Buggy's ass like normal- Seeing how it would upset you and the man seemed to be practically glued to you.

• By the time for you and Buggy to retire, Maps, Plans and even money had been exchanged-

• As the meeting delved later. Food and Alcohol was served, which left you full and a bit tipsy. Leaning your head on Buggy's shoulder as you soon fell asleep against him.

• "(Y/N)? Buggy said softly, claiming his arm to properly secure you against him as he saw your sleeping form.

• "Seems it's time to go our separate ways" Migawk said calmly, having finished off 4 bottles of wine himself and not too far behind you in terms of sleep. Crocodile wiping his mouth of the crumbs with a napkin as he set his near finished cigar on a ash tray.

• "Yes.." Buggy said softly, scooping you up with care.

• "....Since my wife is asleep- I need to say this to you both"

• Buggy didn't look at the two of them just stroking your hair as you slept- "I will only speak this once... If you two hurt my wife or make her upset in any way- Death will be the kindest thing I can give to you"

• They had always know Buggy hid his true abilities and simply didn't take things seriously- But they saw you were his only button.

• His only weakness-

• No words were exchanged, but a silent agreement seemed to settle on the three men.

• You were off limits.

• Buggy carried you out of the meeting hall, taking you to his private quarters so you could rest properly. Already mentally mapping out changing you into your nice PJs-

• The two men left behind watching their peer leave with his prized wife. Crocodile muttered, "How did Buggy manage to snag such a pretty and sweet wife?"

• Mihawk, equally mystified nodding in agreement.

• "It's a mystery as profound as the Grand Line itself."

Extra!-

"I can't believe those dirty bastards got you to make them clothes!" Buggy yelled, stomping his foot dramatically as he watched you sew at a purple and gold vest which clearly would belong to Crocodile by the large size.

You sitting in your favorte chair, dressed in comforble clothes as you continued to work into the evening in the home you shared with your dramatic husband.

"I make all your clothes" Gesturing to his low riding pajama pants and socks he was currently sporting. He waved this off with a dramatic eye roll-

"That's different your my wife and I still pay for your time since it's important! and they shouldnt get it fre-"

"They are paying me Buggy Boo" You cut him off quickly, taking the winds from his sails as he stopped mid rant.

"Eh?" He said confused, not knowing what you were talking about. You reach into your vanity next to you and handed your husband the letter both men had slipped you when you'd first met them in the guikd hall.

"They have me a lump some for 5 peices of clothes for each of them. 2 pairs of trousers, 2 shirts and a special item for each. For Crocodile he wanted this vest Im working on- and for Mihawk to restore a coat he liked" You explained, Buggy raising a brow at this news as he opened the letter quickly and read over how much they offered for such peices.

....

"GAHH!-"

Buggy yelled as he fell to the ground foaming at the mouth at seeing the large number.

15,000,000 Beri for each man....

He couldn't complain-

Well not about the men paying you so handsomely but about having to become the grumpy delivery man for his wife once the clothes were finished.

When he went to the meeting handing his two peers the clothes they had specially bought from you in the nice boxes youd always packed everything in.

Both men quick to open them and look over their new purchased goodies. Mihawk immediately putting on the repaired coat after seeing its quality- which was better then when he bought it.

"Tell your wife I'd like to make another commission when she has free time- I'll pay double" Mihawk said smoothing out the coat and seeing the nice gold pattern on the sleeves and nice red satin insides of the inner coat.

Crocodile adjusting his orange Puff Tie and he nodded in agreement and went through his box with great satisfaction. "Same for me as well-"

"I fucking hate you both..."

[jewish-vents]

I'm so tired of goyim assuming I'm a goy because I'm black and assuming they can talk shit about Jewish people in front of me or with me. My ancestors converted because in New Orleans, in the old days, the only people who didn't treat them like shit were Jewish people. Nobody else paid them fairly or talked to them with basic respect. And because they were respected, their minds were open and they realized the beauty of Judaism. They found a spiritual home and converted. I feel like I continually go through the reverse realization, where I see the ugliness of the world en masse. Goyim will stand there and go, "well, there are some people who are Jewish and racist" as if that'll make me leave Judaism when they're blanketly, uniformly ethnocentrist and hateful themselves. The worst any racist Jew has done is ignore me. Hateful goyim want to straight-up murder me. They want to murder all of us. The fact that I have a little bit of visual camouflage is just making me more aware of it, not less.

The way people act when they think you're one of them and not one of (((those people))) is incredibly telling. I don't think anything has made me want to be more observant as much as seeing how goyim in the South are acting right now. The right is trying to "save" all of us by converting us to Christianity, the left wants to murder us, and the centrists are smugly parroting their same old lines about how if we were all secular (culturally Christian) atheists (who didn't observe any Jewish holidays or practices) then the world would know peace.

No. All of those ideas are wrong. And I am not here to shit talk my own community with you, even if it'd be safer to do so. I would rather be unsafe with people who care about me than safe with people who want me to either radically alter huge parts of myself or outright die. I don't want to hang with people who have looked at Hamas' atrocities and said "it's fine, it's resistance". I don't want to hang with people who think they have to "save" me.

People get mad because I won't talk to them or I leave the room but honestly it's taking all my self-control not to yell at them when they start saying hideous, unfounded garbage about Jewish people. Trust me, you want me to walk away. You don't want to know the things I might say otherwise.

I know Hashem said not to fire back at people talking shit but it's hard. It's so hard. I don't want to become a hateful person. I don't want to lash out at other people. But month after month of this is wearing me down. I just want people to go back to pretending to respect us. Just go back to talking shit in private and not to my face. Please, goyim, that's all I'm asking.

.

[sha-n-dowbannedlol]

Lucifer — Horrified looks from everyone in the room but I'm only looking at you

CW: uhm? fire? reader is in an arranged marriage

It has been more than a year now since you asked Lucifer out of curiosity and slight amusement:

"What happens when you enter a church?"

You look up from your D.D.D. to find that the demon you were speaking to didn't even look up from his paperwork, continuing to write.

"Do you catch on fire?" you jokingly ask,

"Yes." he responds, much to your surprise. with his eyes still glued to the paper on his desk, he continues on to explain, "But it's not like the flame hurts me. If anything, it's just inconvenient because I can barely see anything."

You didn't know whether to believe his words or not back then, but you certainly do now—a whole year after you returned to the human world, a whole year after he broke things off with you.

Gasps resounded in the building at the sound of someone kicking the church doors open, followed by ear-piercing screams from a few guests and others yelling about getting water as all the horrified eyes were focused on a single point; the flaming figure walking down the aisle.

"I said," the figure seemed unphased by the commotion he has caused and the roaring flames engulfing his being, "Stop the Wedding!"

You didn't know what to feel. At first, you felt horrified, anyone would be when they see this sight before them. But at the realization that it was your ex-boyfriend—whom you still love very much—you felt a mix of relief and annoyance.

Relief at the delay of your marriage with this man you barely even know, and annoyance because what in Diavolo's name is he doing here now?!

You didn't hesitate to walk back down the aisle, your soon-to-be husband and the priest too stunned to even try to stop you. The chaos inside the church suddenly became background noise as you met his crimson eyes—even if it was quite hard to see through the roaring flames.

"Lucifer," you hissed when you were only a few feet away from him, "What are you doing here?!"

"I'm here for you," He replies, he reaches his hands out in hopes of touching you which prompted you to flinch away from the flames—a gesture he misunderstood and mistook as rejection. His hands fell back to his sides and you can't even discern the look on his face with the fire blocking your view.

"How did you even know? I didn't.. I didn't tell anyone from the devildom."

"Ah.... Mammon punched me..." He informs you, his voice is low and quite embarrassed. For the second time that day, your eyes widen in surprise. Mammon? He did what? But before you could voice out your surprise, he continues.

"He said you were sobbing over the phone, and immediately assumed it was because of me. I was... worried. I asked Solomon to check on how you're doing here and-" He stops, and based on the movements of the flames, you assume he's looking around in search of the white-haired sorcerer. "He was the one who told me about this."

"And what do you hope to achieve?"

"To convince you to come with me."

"Weren't you the one who told me to find my happiness in someone else?"

"I did." He admits, "But you're not happy with him, are you?"

You turn your gaze down and away from his own, and your silence was enough of a response for him. As you continue to look down, his flaming hand came into your view, palms open and facing upward.

"Come with me." His deep voice was tempting you to take his hand, "Or not. It's your choice, darling."

You study his glove-clad hand, and as much as you want to take his hand, you were scared that it would just burn you and lead you to a world full of pain—literally.

You can turn back to safety and take your fiance's hand—the safer option wherein you're sure that you wouldn't get hurt, where you wouldn't have to turn your back on your family and not disappoint your parents.

Or you can take the risk and take Lucifer's hand—embrace the roaring flames and turn your back on everyone else, burning the bridge that once connected you to your family, to your parents, to the future they planned just for you.

You could've taken the roaring flames on Lucifer's hand as a bad omen, it was as if the universe was yelling at you to not hurt yourself by going back to him and you, yourself, already knew that. You should turn back. You should go back to the altar. You shouldn't come with him.

And with a deep breath, you finally made your decision.

....It doesn't hurt.

That was the first thought that popped into your mind when your bare skin met Lucifer's glove, and just as he said, the flames do not hurt. If anything, it was warm, a stark contrast to the coolness of his gloves as his fingers wrap around your hand once again.

You finally look up, a genuine, fond smile had made its way to his face now, before pulling on your hand.

"Let's run away,"

[dameronology]

home (frank castle)

warnings: a little bit of frank being depressed but that's about it. probably language too? i don't even notice anymore.

this is the first thing i've written in so long and it's very short buuuut i hope you like it

--jazz xx

You could always tell when Frank had had a bad night.

The signs were clear as soon as he got home. Boots thrown to the side with a loud thunk (he would apologise for the noise in the morning); body haphazardly hitting the mattress beside you as he let out a huff of exhaustion. Normally, his hands would be on you before he even in bed. He had to sleep with his chest pressed to your back, arms wrapped tightly around you, any signs of breaking free met with intense refusal until the morning. You felt safe but he felt safer.

Tonight was different. You heard the crash of shoes, and the thump, thump, thump towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you but instead of his hands, you were met with Frank's back to you. It was tense, littered with pink scars and red ones, and fresh cuts and bruises. You could have reached out, but you didn't want to push it. A few years ago, before you, before this, before he'd learnt love again, he probably wouldn't have come home at all. He would have stayed out til the crack of dawn, fighting, fighting, fighting; fists beaten to a pulp and every part of him rigid and exhausted to his very core. Frank had learnt now: when he got really bad, he had to come home. When the going got too tough even for him, it normally meant it was the end of night. You were just grateful he had come at all.

You said nothing; just a small sigh. For him, for you, for whatever the morning would bring.

10AM came quickly. It was a Sunday, so Manhattan was nice enough to wake a few minutes later than usual. The silence in your bedroom was quickly filled with the sound of horns and brakes and the yells of the outside world. You didn't have work that day, thank god. That meant there was no rush. Frank could rise whenever he wanted.

Except - fuck - you had forgotten to turn off your alarm. It came blaring out your phone as soon as the clock struck on the hour, vibrating across your bedside table and onto the floor with a loud thud. Frank, being the world's lightest and potentially most dangerous sleeper, quickly rose. His hair was getting longer now, so it was tuftier in the mornings. You would have laughed if your chest wasn't so heavy.

You quickly hopped out of bed, sheepishly picking up the phone.

"Shit," you muttered. "Frankie, I'm sorry."

He let out a grumble, rubbing his eyes. "It's okay. I had to wake up at some point."

"Are you okay?" you quietly asked. "I know you're not but...I gotta ask."

Frank didn't say anything - instead he just sighed. Then, he opened his arms and ushered for you to come back to bed. You did so without hesitation, dropping into the sheets beside him. Strong arms wrapped around you instantly, holding you to his chest, one hand cupping the back of your head. You'd always found irony in the fact that he had to be the one to hold you when he was upset. No matter how shit he was feeling, Frank was always the big spoon. His ability to protect you was the one thing he could control. It was the one thing that made him feel a little okay again.

"It was a really rough night," he quietly admitted. "I'll be okay, sweetheart. I just wanna take it easy today."

Frank said nothing else. What he had said was beyond anyone else's wildest dreams; this was coming from the man who made a point of closing himself off, from refusing himself love and anything good. You were the only person he would ever say anything too. It was safe to assume at any given moment that he wasn't okay, but he was a little closer to it when he was with you.

The rest of the morning went like a ghost.

You moved around each other with ease; his small touches lingered - a hand on your back here, another on your hip there - and you could tell he was coming back around. Sure, he burnt the first three pancakes and didn't realise the milk was out of date til after he'd poured it into your coffee, but he was being Frank. You would have been more worried if he'd cooked properly or made good coffee.

You'd moved to the sofa by midday, dirty plates piled up in the sink and Max snoring on the rug in the middle of your living room. Die Hard was playing quietly in the background (Frank argued it was an all year round movie). You were sat between his legs on the sofa, large thighs either side of yours and arms wrapped around your front. He had his head resting on top of yours, giving you the occasional squeeze with his legs and arms.

"I love you," Frank quietly murmured. He pressed a kiss to your forehead.

You turned your head to look at him, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "I love you too."

"I'm sorry for being quiet last night. I didn't mean to ignore you."

"You don't have to apologise," you hummed. "I'm just grateful you came home."

"I'll always come home."