#a lot harder that i think they were meant to?

[suguruspit]

Lockjaw

warnings: oral sex (f!receiving), come eating, Gojo is a certified munch, situationship, exhibitionism, masturbation (reader), semi-public sex, car sex, f!ngering, squirting, overstim, dancing around feelings, panties fetish (?), eating out with panties on

A/N: Gojo Satoru being a complete nasty freak and munch is something that is very special to me. He definitely uses those six eyes for inappropriate things don't even JOKE (this was a request :P)

It was a random hook-up that started his slight obsession. On and off for years, and this particular part of his kinky nature never came to light.

"I'm serious, Gojo." You snort, the tip of your finger swirling around the rim of your glass as you rest your chin in your hand. "I'm not the type of girl to lose my panties to the first guy who makes a pass at me."

Gojo studies you, eyes hidden under that thick black fabric as he hums, stretching his legs out as he stands up from his bar stool, holding out a hand to you as you raise an eyebrow in response.

"I'll take you home." A simple sentence, one that he says with such ease that you don't think anything of it, despite him practically begging to let him get you off in bathroom.

It's not like the two of you haven't shared a bed before, admittedly you'd been thinking about texting him a simple 'you free?' earlier before he'd walked straight into the bar you were in- but, he's just your coworker now.

Walking into that damn school and immediately thinking about The Gojo Satoru on his knees with his mouth buried in your pussy had made working with him a complete nightmare. There's only so many times you can excuse yourself to the bathroom to bury your fingers in yourself for some kind of relief. Thus; the ban.

"I don't know.." You eventually reply, your voice full of uncertainty despite the fact that your body is already up and moving off the stool, and you smile to yourself as Gojo wraps his jacket around your shoulders, leaving him in that ridiculously tight white shirt. "I guess you're a safer option than a random man."

"Gee, thanks." Gojo snorts, offering you his elbow with an exaggerated bow, making you laugh as you stumble slightly on your way back to the car.

It's cold out, which is part of the reason why you'd gone straight to the bar after your bad mission instead of just walking it off. Plus, there's nothing a little wine can't fix after Shoko has actually fixed you.

You shiver a little as you pull Gojos' jacket a little tighter around yourself. The cold air is making the wetness of your panties a lot more obvious, and your cheeks burn with both shame and alcohol as you walk unsteadily back to that fancy ass car you knew Gojo would have driven all the way here.

"You know," Gojo says with a joy in his voice that makes you wince. It's never a good sign when he's confident, even less when he's full on grinning like a shark down at you. "I know you've made yourself all messy just thinking about my offer."

Fuck. This was a trap.

"You've been avoiding my calls," Gojo continues, sniffing as he opens the back door to his car, patiently waiting for you to slide yourself onto the seats, which you do albeit a little hesitantly.

The cold leather against your wet panties has you biting your lip and Gojo just grins at you, leaning on the car door all cocky with his frustrating smirk as he asks you; "You sure I can't convince you?"

Your hand clutches your skirt a little too tightly, the black Jujutsu uniform that was built to be lightweight suddenly feeling suffocating.

"I meant it-" You start, as you look back at him with fluttering eyelashes and a semi-serious expression. You pout your lips purposefully as you spread your legs the tiniest amount, anticipation shooting through your spine as you notice him start to breathe harder. "My panties, staying on."

An odd hill for you to die on, but apparently it wasn't a hill that would stop Gojo as he's clambering into the back of the car and folding his long legs with a heavy 'fuck'.

You let out a moan as you look down in front of you, Gojo is balancing himself in-between the sets of seats so that he can be eye-level with your cunt, bandana pushed up into that messy white hair as his eyes practically glow in the dark car. It's electric the way he looks at you, and you bite your hand as he lowers his nose, breathing in the scent of your arousal with a low groan.

"Not a problem, princess."

"You're such a freak," You breathe out, but you aren't really one to talk as you feel yourself getting even wetter as he nips and bites at your plush thighs. You rest your head on the headrest as you shuffle your hips down, letting out a little sob as Gojos' tongue finally drags its way up your wet underwear.

It's perverted, the way that it gets you wriggling and writhing. That wet cotton sticks to you as he starts swirling his tongue on your clit, the texture of the fabric dragging against you with each movement making the pleasure all that more unbelievable.

It's wet, spit and slick noises filling the car as he groans and whines into your pussy, thanking you over and over as he palms himself, never faltering in his open-mouthed kisses to your pretty pink lacy panties, suckling gently over the slightly raised mound of your clit after at least ten minutes of teasing.

"Fuck, I-" You breathe out, the air so thick that your chest is heaving. Your thighs are aching from the way he's using both strong hands to hold them open, your hands buried in those snowy locks as you force his mouth to where you want it, practically riding his face in the back of his fancy-ass car. "Holy shit, I'm going to cum."

Gojo just nods desperately through your struggling words, jaw and tongue moving even faster as he whines with flushed cheeks and spit-shiny lips into you, his hand leaving one of your thighs to rub himself off, and that sight is what gets you shaking.

"Fuck, Gojo." You whine as you reach your peak, hips stuttering and fingers tightening in his hair. The sight of him sobbing into your pussy as his chest tinges pink and the front of his pants get darker has you staggering through a second wave, your orgasm dripping through your panties sluggishly and covering the back seat of the car. "Holy shit."

Gojo pulls back, absolutely wrecked. His face is adorably pink, eyes half-lidded as he looks at you with a satisfaction that has your heart stuttering. There's your slickness spread across his lips and chin, and he gathers it with his thumb just to push it past his own lips with a cocky grin, all teeth and charm as you curse.

"Still going to ignore me?"

And ignore him you did, or you tried.

But the stuffy conference room is getting unbearably warm as you shift in your seat, willing your throbbing cunt to stop as you avoid Gojos' gaze across the table.

He's sitting in that ridiculous way he does, ass half in his seat as he sits like its his own personal throne, long legs hanging over the edge of it as he makes a show of dragging his tongue up and down the popsicle he'd opted to eat in the middle of the meeting, much to your own dismay.

The incredibly boring old bastards just sneer at him with disgust as he joyfully sucks on his fingers, swirling his tongue to collect all that sticky juice that had dribbled past his lips and onto those long digits.

It's like your own personal torture, and you bite your lip and send a quick prayer that the ancient elders are too busy scolding your coworker to notice the way your own hand is buried in between your thighs, your skirt just long enough to cover the way your fingers are driving themselves in and out of your pussy.

As an elder starts talking about the newest development in the Zen'in council, you take the time to wiggle out of your panties, leaving them hanging around your ankle riskily.

Your cheeks burn and your heart is hammering as you glance around the table, eyes shifting between your unknowing audience as you force yourself to be quiet.

That pressure is building up your spine, your thighs aching as you shift in your seat, stammering out a quick reply as the man closest to your right asks if you need a break.

"She's alright," Gojo waves his hand as he replies, although you notice his ears are pink and there's a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. "Fed up of you old bastards, I'm sure."

You shake your head in disagreement, and your fingers are buried knuckle deep in your pussy as you stop for a breath, terrified to move in fear of being caught. There's juices leaking around your fingers, the chair slippery as your folds slide against the chair as you wiggle yourself, full of impatience despite your mental battle.

There's a buzz of your phone, and you bite your lip, glancing around you before deeming it safe enough to check. Your breath leaves you in a half-disguised moan that goes unnoticed around the table as you read it.

Gojo: don't stop now, I know ur close

You could almost cry as you lock eyes with him, and he just winks before divulging into another complaint about an improperly labelled curse. It all turns into background noise as you continue to bully your own cunt, wet walls hugging your fingers tightly as you get closer and closer.

Burying your chin into your chest as you start to reach your peak, tears burn in your eyes as you feel that familiar wet heat stirring in your gut. Fuck, not now.

You panic and make frantic eye contact with your friend across the table, but it's too late as you stutter and your fingers curl just right. Gojo's eyes widen slightly, and he's coughing just loud enough to cover the wet sound of your release flooding the chair.

Thankfully, the elders are already taking their leave, the nicest of them all wishing you better health as he leaves with a polite bow, and you just stammer out a weak 'thank you'.

The silence of the room is embarrassingly loud as you're left to shimmer your panties back on properly, the fabric wet with your own squirt as you wince at the wet-on-wet sensation, too caught up in your own head to notice the way Gojo has stalked his way over.

"What are you-" You try to complain, but it's stolen from you as he shoves your chair away from the table, already sinking to his knees in front of you, groaning at the way your juices spill onto his pants. "Gojo, please."

"Yeah," He replies hoarsely, already pushing his bandana up to keep his hair out of the way as he buries his face where you begged for it, his nose rubbing against your clit as you sob and writhe. "Fuck. You're too much, baby."

"Not your baby," You whine out as his tongue pushes against your clothed folds, making it even more wet and lewd than it already is.

You outright moan as his fingers peel the wet fabric to the side, one of those long digits sliding all the way into your cunt, curling up and finding that spongy spot immediately, already working on milking a second orgasm out of you.

It's embarrassing how fast that high is creeping up your spine, the way your clit pulses and the way your walls tighten as Gojo sets to work, that overly obnoxious mouth for once silent as its full of you.

The sounds of Gojos' sloppy make-out session with your pussy filling the silent room, and you bite your hand to stop yourself from crying out as your toes curl in anticipation.

It's always so intense with Gojo, those damn Six Eyes knowing every inch of your body biblically and hitting those pleasure points ruthlessly - all you can do is hang on as best you can. And that's what you do, shaking fingers weaving into his hair as you pull and twist and whine as he alternates between delicate circles and hard swipes with his tongue.

The sloppy and wet sounds of your pussy pull you out of that foggy haze, your folds slick and shining from where they're parted with Gojos' nose, his blue eyes focused on you as he pumps his fingers in and out to the rhythm of his tongue. You babble something incoherent as your orgasm builds, your back tensing as you feel that unmistakable wave.

Gojo just curls his fingers once more and holds the pressure, his other hand pressing down on your lower belly, making you practically shout as you gush down his forearm, the force of it almost making you black out as it lasts forever.

And he sweet talks you the whole time.

"So fucking good princess, fuck, look gorgeous-shit" He groans, eyes rolling back as he fucks his own fist, panting and looking up at you with pleading eyes and flushed cheeks. "Let me finish on you, please."

You whimper out a 'yeah, do it baby' and that's all it takes for that milky-white sticky cum to paint your stomach, some of it hitting your chin as you moan, taking in the way his eyes screw shut and his jaw locks as he strokes himself through it.

Gojo whispers out a hoarse 'thanks' before his forehead rests against your thighs, he kisses and bites them gently as he regains his breath, and you soothe the pulled locks of hair with your fingertips.

If only you weren't planning on calling in sick to completely avoid him tomorrow.

That plan only worked for so long, there's only so many times you can ask to trade missions before people start to get curious, especially Nanami.

"You won't work with him, and that's not what's best efficient for the entire team."

You groan as you walk, dragging your feet and hanging your head as you follow him to the hall. He's not wrong, but how do you tell your perfectly respectable friend that the reason you can't work with him is because you act like a bitch in heat whenever you see his stupid fucking face?

"Perhaps," Nanami hesitates as he speaks, that normally monotone voice breaking unevenly. You look up at him curiously, only to find him watching you kindly already. "You could try to transfer?"

To Kyoto? Yeah. No thanks. You scoff to yourself, hoping he doesn't pick up on it. If he does, he's too gentlemanly to say anything, unlike a certain somebody.

"It's alright, I'll talk to him tonight after some liquid courage." You affirm, hoping you sound a lot more confident than you feel as you reach out for the door with a shaking hand.

Tonight being the staff party that Gojo and Shoko insisted on. You'd be lying if you weren't a little bit hopeful, your best baby-blue lacy set sitting neatly underneath a low-cut black cocktail dress. Normally, you'd say this is how you always dressed for a party. And normally, Nanami would pretend you were telling the truth.

"You're too good for him." Nanami simply says as you both step in, already cringing at the volume level. Both Tokyo and Kyoto teachers had come together, meaning the more rowdy bunch from Kyoto were already leading the party. "If you need me, text. Try not to, though."

And with that, you're alone.

You hum to the music, swaying a little bit as you make your way to the drinks table without looking like it was your one and only goal. You probably fail, but Shoko is there to hand you a red plastic cup and grin at you as you sigh in relief at the strong smell emanating from it.

"He's gone to get ice." She simply says, rolling her eyes at your fake attempt to seem uninterested. "In fact, he's been a while. Check that he hasn't warped himself into a coma, will you?"

You startle a bit at that, cradling your cup to your chest as you read her face for any tells that she's lying.

"He's done that?" You ask doubtfully, but you've already set your cup down in preparation for the hunt down.

"Not since we were kids." Shoko shrugs, and then she's shooing you off.

It doesn't take long, there's only so many freezers in the building, and there was no way he as hiding in the main kitchen. No, he's in the stupid dorm kitchen that you all used to share as kids.

"You get lost?" He calls out to you as you curse at the cold air, hands rubbing your arms as you step through the doorway with an unimpressed pout. "Ice machine is taking a while, tell Shoko to cool her tits."

"Incredible," You mutter as you take in his outfit. Tight black pants paired with a cream sweater that's practically hanging off his sharp collarbones, his hair down for once. He also has those sunglasses on that you find hot, despite being nothing particularly special. "You're almost thirty, stop talking like a frat boy."

He pouts at that, faking a tear-wipe with his finger as he hangs his head. You resist a smile as you watch him, instead choosing to hop up onto the counter with practised ease from your youth.

"Can't you like, infinity it faster?" You ask, just to wind him up. All these years, an on and off relationship, and you still pretend to not understand his technique because you know that really gets under his skin.

"You suck." Gojo says as he sticks his tongue out, but you see the way his eyes undress you, the way he lingers his gaze on your thighs. You sigh, and shimmy your hips down.

"I'd offer to get undressed, but something tells me you'd prefer me to keep the panties on."

That has him freezing from his current path towards that sweet spot between your thighs, looking up at you like a deer caught in headlights. You just hum, spreading your thighs.

"Well go on then," You say nonchalantly, letting your thighs fall even more open, exposing the flimsy black lace that covers your pretty pussy, the sheen of arousal already evident. "You have five minutes before Shoko and Nanami come looking for me."

Gojo lets out a cocky laugh, pulling his sweater off as he rolls his neck. Those ridiculous abs already pulled tight as he crouches, looking up at you under those stupid sunglasses that you love so much;

"Plenty of time."

You just laugh through your own moans as he gets to work.

Gojo never thought he'd get the chance to taste you so freely, after you broke things off the last time he thought that might have been it. But he's Satoru Gojo, he wouldn't be himself if he didn't push his luck, especially with you.

The first time he eats you out with your panties still on, it's an accident. One of the last times you'd been together, you were wearing this honey gold set that had drove him crazy, his spit and your slick mixing so deliciously over that fucking lace that it unlocked something in him.

Then, you'd decided that what you both had wasn't working, and all he was left with was that pair of honey gold lace panties to work over his dick desperately as he chased that memory of the way you came with your panties half-stuffed inside you from his tongue.

When he'd gotten the chance to eat you out after that visit from the bar, he'd been so excited to get his tongue on you, on that rough lace, that as soon as you'd finished all over his tongue, that honey-sweet thick taste that drove him crazy, he'd cum in his pants like a horny teenager.

The second time he was more prepared, as soon as he'd noticed your beautiful flushed cheeks as you wiggled across the table from him, he'd used his Six Eyes to watch your every move, getting harder and harder as you got yourself off in a room full of unsuspecting old geezers. It took everything in him not to bust as you fucking squirted, his cough managing to cover that lewd sound that drove him crazy. As you got yourself through that haze, he'd told them all to get fucked and that he'd talk with them one-by-one at a later date.

Getting on his knees and holding your knees up as he cleaned you up through your dripping wet finish was the next best thing to being in you. And your reaction when he'd added a single finger? Fuck.

The staff party was his final straw, eating you out and holding your hips as you rode his face in your old dorms, even though you knew his perverted little secret. He knew he had to patch things up with you.

Currently, he's up to the hilt in you, rubbing soothing circles into the plush flesh of your thigh as you breathe through the sudden fullness of him. All that smart-mouthing you loved to do to him, gone the second he'd peeled the pretty purple panties to the side and slid right in.

Your walls are so tight, pussy so fucking perfect. And he tells you, whispers it right into your ear as he rocks gently into you despite the urge to fuck you raw.

"Shut the fuck up, Satoru." You'd moaned back, still as feisty as the day you'd met. He grinned into your shoulder, biting down onto your ear lobe as he tuts his disapproval.

"If you truly hated me, you wouldn't keep wearing these frilly little things." And he watched in total satisfaction as you turned a cute shade of pink.

Yeah. Fucking made for him, alright.

And if you used his black card to purchase as many lace sets as you could find, who was he to stop you?

[angelltheninth]

Minotaur Chases and Breeds You in the Maze

Pairing: Male!Minotaur x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, slight cnc, primal play, chase, size difference, rough sex, being manhandled, fear play, creampie, breeding kink

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: Writing this because my next book also has a minotaur in it and I feel inspired.

The game of chase you play isn't malicious in any way, you're not his sacrifice, you're his girlfriend, his lover

Still you give it your all to try to get away from him and out of the ever changing maze

Only he knows the real way out of there and he almost never chases you towards it all the time

It makes the game last longer

Deliberately waits for you behind corners and pulls you into a rough kiss every time, making your legs just a bit weaker, making you just a bit slower and a lot wetter

"I think you enjoy this chase, little human. That isn't just fear I see on your face, it's not fear that has your legs shaking like that. Keep running, that's right. While you still can."

Occasionally his big, rough fingers will run under your clothes and give your clit a little flick

Gets a little difficult for him to chase you with his cock raging hard between his loincloth

When he's finally had enough pins you to the ground, enjoying the way you buckle and trash under his grip and his body, as if you, a human woman, could ever fight him off

It's fun that you try

But nothing will stop him from pulling your dress of your body with one hand while holding you down with the other

"What's with that scream huh? It's not like anyone can hear you in my maze, other than me. I like it that way. Every sound you make is just for me, because of me. What other sounds can I get from you I wonder?"

Two of his fingers are too much for you at once so he starts you off with just one, thick and rough and like three of your own but still not as thick as his cock

Has to throw your legs over his shoulders so that him slicing his cock in isn't too painful for you

Forces your mouth open when you try to rob him of hearing you moan every time he gives a rough, heavy, deep thrust into your pussy

Constantly keeps one hand on your hip, softly caressing you

Grins as he sees your puffy pussy gripping his cock harder every time he pulls back

"See, I knew your body couldn't lie to me, no matter if your mouth tries to. I know your kind well by now. You're all the same type of whore. Don't be shy, don't be shy, let it all out for me. Or I'll make you. I'll make you come over and over until you learn to let go and give yourself to me like you were meant to."

Tilts your hips upwards so that when he comes his seed flows down your stomach, not just drips down from your already full pussy

Keeps you on his cock as you come, he wants to feel every ripple, every flutter, every little spasm your inner walls give as your whole body shakes against his

Puts his hand against your stomach and gives it a gentle pat as he puffs and squares his shoulders in pure pride and adoration that you managed to handle all of that

Waits for your eyes to clear up and for you to smile up at him before he leans down to kiss you

Holds you against him as he carries you, exhausted and spent, back to the big bed he made just for you

"You did so good for me tonight, my beloved, my wife. I enjoyed myself with you every much. Lets not put any more strain on you tonight, we need to wait and see if my seed will take. If not we can always do this again."

[dorabellingham]

Complicated

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when you're trying to make dinner but he ends up making an unnecessary comment that bothers you

request: yess!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a quiet night in your home, and you and Jude decided to cook dinner together. You were chopping vegetables while Jude stirred a pan on the stove. It was one of those simple and intimate moments that you loved, where the conversation flowed without rushing.

—You’re getting good at this, huh?

Jude commented, watching you wield the knife with precision.

—Only because you didn’t see how many fingers I almost cut off earlier.

You replied with a light laugh.

He laughed, exchanging knowing glances. You loved these moments with your boyfriend, where nothing seemed complicated or distant.

—Do you think we’ll be like this forever?

You asked, almost distracted, as you organized the vegetables.

—Like what?

Jude replied, turning to you.

—I don’t know... so comfortable. Like, even after everything we’ve been through, it seems like we’ve never lost that.

—Of course, babe. You’re my safe place. You always have been.

The comment made you smile, but before you could respond, Jude added something, distracted as he stirred the pan:

—And I’m lucky, because you’re not as complicated as other people I know.

You froze. The words were simple, but they sounded like a blow. It wasn’t what Jude had said, but how it sounded at that moment.

—I’m not complicated?

You asked, trying to hide the hurt tone.

Jude looked up, noticing something strange in your voice.

—That’s not what I meant. It’s just… I don’t know, you’re easier to deal with than a lot of people.

You dropped the knife on the counter, trying to process it. All you could think about were the times you felt like you were a burden to him —especially with your crises and the difficulty in adjusting to life in Madrid. That sounded like confirmation that you needed to try harder not to be a burden.

—Easy to deal with? —You repeated, your voice now lower. —Jude, do you have any idea how that sounds to me?

—Y/n, calm down. That's not what I meant. I just... —He ran his hand through his hair, clearly confused by your reaction. —I just meant that you're amazing and that you make everything seem simpler.

You took a step back, crossing your arms.

—But it's not simple, Jude. I'm not simple. I'm full of problems and insecurities. You know that.

—And I never said that was bad! —Jude exclaimed, getting closer. —Sweetie, you're human, like everyone else. But I love you precisely for who you are.

You looked away, biting your lower lip to hold back the tears. You knew Jude hadn't meant any harm, but his comment brought back all the times you felt inadequate, as if you needed to be "easy" to deserve his love.

—You'll never understand what it's like to feel like that. —You whispered. —Because you’re Jude Bellingham. Everyone loves you effortlessly.

—Hey, hey. —He held your arms gently, forcing you to look at him. —Don’t say that. Everyone can love me as a player, but who I really am… only you know. And you’re the one who makes me feel complete.

You blinked, letting out a stubborn tear.

—It’s just… sometimes I feel like I need to be perfect. That I can’t be a complication in your life.

Jude sighed, pulling you into a hug.

—Babe, you’ve never been a complication. I’m sorry if what I said made you think that. You’re the best thing in my life, and I love even the complicated parts of you.

You were silent for a moment, leaning your head against his chest as you felt the warmth of his embrace.

—I’m sorry for reacting like that. —You murmured. —It’s just that I…

—You don’t have to apologize. —He interrupted, kissing the top of your head. —I was the idiot. I should have thought before I spoke.

You stood there, hugging each other, while the smell of the sauce began to grow stronger. Jude pulled away a little, holding your face with his hands.

—You're perfect for me, Y/n. Not because it's easy, but because it's you.

You nodded, still feeling the weight of your emotions, but also the comfort of his words.

—I love you, Jude.

—I love you too. And please, let me know when I say something stupid again.

You laughed softly, wiping your face with the sleeve of your shirt.

—I think you already know when you say it.

—Fair enough. —He smiled and went back to the stove. —But for the record, I think I burned the sauce.

—Really? —You rolled your eyes, laughing. —I think we both need help in the kitchen.

Jude smiled at you, relieved to see you calmer.

—As long as I have you here, we can burn as many dinners as we need.

And with that, the tension was replaced by laughter and jokes, as you tried to save dinner.

[tennis-kittens]

Vamos, Rafa !

As you get ready to graduate from tennis, I’ve got a few things to share before I maybe get emotional.

Let’s start with the obvious: you beat me – a lot. More than I managed to beat you. You challenged me in ways no one else could.

On clay, it felt like I was stepping into your backyard, and you made me work harder than I ever thought I could just to hold my ground. You made me reimagine my game – even going so far as to change the size of my racquet head, hoping for any edge.

And you know what, Rafa, you made me enjoy the game even more.

OK maybe not at first. After the 2004 Australian Open, I achieved the #1 ranking for the first time. I thought I was on top of the world. And I was – until two months later, when you walked on the court in Miami in your red sleeveless shirt, showing off those biceps, and you beat me convincingly. All that buzz I’d been hearing about you – about this amazing young player from Mallorca, a generational talent, probably going to win a major someday – it wasn’t just hype.

We were both at the start of our journey and it’s one we ended up taking together. Twenty years later, Rafa, I have to say: What an incredible run you’ve had. Including the 14 French Opens – historic! You made Spain proud… you made the whole tennis world proud.

I keep thinking about the memories we’ve shared. Promoting the sport together. Playing that match on half-grass, half clay. Breaking the all-time attendance record by playing in front of more than 50,000 fans in Cape Town, South Africa. Always cracking each other up.

I’m still grateful you invited me to Mallorca to help launch the Rafa Nadal Academy in 2016. Actually, I kind of invited myself. I knew you were too polite to insist on me being there but I didn’t want to miss it.

And then there was London – the Laver Cup in 2022. My final match. It meant everything to me that you were there by my side – not as my rival but as my doubles partner. Sharing the court with you that night, and sharing those tears, will forever be one of the most special moments of my career.

Rafa, I know you’re focused on the last stretch of your epic career. We will take when it’s done. For now, I just want to congratulate your family and team, who all played a massive role in your success. And I want you to know that your old friend is always cheering for you, and will be cheering just as loud for everything you do next.

Rafa that!

Best always, your fan,

Roger Federer

[scary-grace]

(secret) santa, baby - part 12 of a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. A fic in 12 parts. Divider by @ wcnderlnds

i ii iii iv v vi vii viii ix x xi

part xii (opening presents)

“What?” Spinner asks anxiously. “Do you think it’s too much or something?”

“Um – no.” You’re definitely lying. You can barely see Spinner around the enormous box he’s carrying. You’re not sure if he can see anything, either. “I mean, it’s the last Secret Santa gift of the year. Go big or go home, right?”

“Yeah,” Spinner agrees. He sounds relieved. “And after what happened – she deserves something extra nice, don’t you think?”

“Definitely.”

You weren’t sure how Spinner would react to the news that Aiba and her boyfriend have broken up – or rather, that Aiba dumped him when she found out about the kiss. You know people who’d have been happy to find out that the person they’d liked from afar was finally single. But Spinner wasn’t happy. He looked so unhappy when he found out that Twice elbowed him and said he’d never seen anybody be that upset over good news.

Spinner stared at him like he was crazy. It’s not good news, he said. She’s really sad. Why would I be happy about her being sad?

Spinner’s a good guy, and you’re pretty sure the giant gift he’s carrying is something he bought before the mistletoe-day disaster. When you look around the ballroom where the party’s being held, you see a lot of giant gifts, enough that going all-out with the last gift must be a tradition or something. It’s a tradition, and you missed the memo. Your last gift for Tomura is small enough to fit in your purse.

It was hard to find, and you’re pretty sure you outed yourself as Tomura’s Secret Santa to Spinner in the process of figuring out what “video games” meant on Tomura’s list. Tomura apparently has a thing for retro consoles, and retro consoles only play old games. Spinner mentioned a game Tomura’s been half-assedly searching for since last year, and you decided to find it. It took a lot of time spent scrolling on Ebay and picking through thrift store discount bins, but you finally found it, and you even found an old console to test it on to make sure it worked. You were really excited to give it to him until you got here and saw what everybody else did.

But it’s too late to change anything now. You’re here with your tiny gift, and Tomura’s going to think you didn’t try at all. If he’s even here. “Do you know if Tomura’s going to be here?”

“Last I heard, yeah,” Spinner says. “He changes his mind last-minute about stuff, though. I can text him if you want?”

“I have his number,” you say. “I can do it.”

You can, but you won’t. You know Tomura hates parties, and you don’t want to put his maybe liking you to the test against how much he hates getting dressed up and going out. It’s what kept you from asking him yourself, even though the two of you have been texting more than two people who see each other every day at work really should. The only person who brought up the party was him, when he asked if you were going. You said yes, and then he asked why. There’s going to be free food, you said. And I want to meet my Secret Santa.

As far as you can tell, most people have at least some idea of who their Secret Santa is, but you don’t have a clue. Your Secret Santa’s never written a note to go with any of their gifts, and nothing about the gift-wrapping style – or lack thereof, with the first few gifts – has given them away. The only thing you know is that they haven’t been following your hyper-specific list to the letter. While everything they’ve gotten you has been on the list, it’s all been an upgrade from the versions you asked for.

So they’re generous and bad at wrapping gifts. That could describe half the office. You’d like to know who it is, and there’s free food, so you’re here. And if you might have dressed up a little more than you usually would for an office holiday party on the off chance that Tomura makes an appearance, you’re going to keep that to yourself. Nobody has to know. And you can have fun at the party whether or not he’s here.

It is a really nice party – probably the nicest one you’ve ever been to. The decorating committee went berserk, to the point where there are multiple live Christmas trees on each wall and food tables on either end of the ballroom, each stocked with its own chocolate fountain and champagne tower. There’s music, which Yamada apparently arranged for but isn’t actually performing. Yamada’s in a good mood. When you run into him while trying to grab a glass of champagne, he grins at you. “Next year. Acapella. Are you in?”

“Ask me next year,” you say. “Once the holiday spirit’s worn off.”

Yamada cracks up at that, snags two glasses of champagne, and speeds off through the crowd. You finally manage to separate one for yourself and get clear of the table. Half a glass of champagne later, you’re ready to mingle. Time to see if participating in the office’s holiday traditions as a way to make friends actually worked.

It feels like it did. People say hi to you, and when you stop to talk to them, it doesn’t feel awkward at all. You’re willing to admit that some of it might be because you’ve all been drinking a little bit, but at the same time, you’ve gone to office parties where people were drunker than this and still silent as the grave. Some of your coworkers have already found out who their Secret Santas are, and some of them are carrying gifts that look even more over-the-top unwrapped than they did when they were covered in festive wrapping paper. Maybe it’s better if Tomura doesn’t show up. You can find a bigger gift and leave it on his desk next week, and no one will have to know that you messed up.

You cross paths with Tomura’s friends here. They’re all dressed up, probably more than anyone else at the party, although it looks more like they’re here for a costume party than a Christmas party. “Like it? It’s an Enji’s credit card special,” Twice says, tugging at the lapel of his purple suit. “He really wanted Dabi to come home for Christmas this year.”

“Did you?” you ask Dabi.

“Yeah, but I brought everybody with me,” Dabi says. Everybody. Even – “Shigaraki, too. He hates this shit, but he never misses a chance to stick it to somebody else’s shitty dad.”

“It was fun this year,” Magne says. “Fuyumi made us our own stockings and everything. That thing was nicer than any of my actual socks.”

“It sounds fun,” you say.

“Could have been worse,” Dabi says. He glances at you. “What did you do?”

You didn’t, really, which is the other reason you’re here – Christmas alone in your apartment was fun or at least peaceful the first few years, but lately it’s been feeling lonely. “Not too much. I just slept in and then came here.”

Tomura’s friends exchange glances. “Next year you’ll hang with us,” Twice announces. “You can still sleep in. We always show up late anyway.”

“You don’t have to invite me,” you say at once. You must have sounded a lot more pathetic than you meant to. “And Twice, you probably shouldn’t invite me to Dabi’s house –”

“First, it’s not my house,” Dabi says. “Second, I invite whoever I want. The more of my friends I bring, the more uncomfortable I make my jackass of a father. As long as you don’t hit on my sister –”

“Come on, that was one time,” Twice protests.

“Yeah, one time too many –”

You sidle sideways out of the conversation while they’re still debating exactly how many times one of Dabi’s friends have made a pass at his siblings. Dabi probably didn’t mean the invitation. You won’t count on it. But it’s nice that they’re thinking about it tonight. Hearing it makes you feel a little better, even if it’ll evaporate well before next Christmas.

The party ebbs and flows around you. Sometimes there are people dancing, but other times, the music quiets enough to let people talk. There are fewer and fewer unopened gifts floating around. You see Spinner still toting his gift for Aiba, which means that Aiba’s either not here or he just can’t see her around the box. The latter seems more likely to you. She’s really tiny. No matter where you look, there’s no sign of Tomura.

You do find Aiba, though, when you stop by the chocolate fountain. You can’t tell if she’s trying to hide. “Hi,” you say, and she looks up. “He’s not here, if that’s what you’re worried about. I haven’t seen him.”

“He said he wouldn’t come to it,” Aiba says. She looks like she didn’t sleep well last night, but her outfit’s on point. “I’m not worried about him. I’m just not very – fun right now. I only came to it because I wanted to meet my Secret Santa.”

“Really?”

“I thought the Secret Santa was going to be ruined because of – him. But then I found out it wasn’t him,” Aiba says. You nod. “And that makes it – nicer, I think. All the gifts I got were perfect, and none of it had anything to do with him. So there’s still one part of my Christmas that’s nice. I want to say thank you.”

Spinner had better have a game plan. “They haven’t come to talk to me yet, though,” Aiba says. She frowns. “Do you think they’re even here?”

“I know they’re here,” you say. “If you stay here, I can go find them and tell them to come over.”

Aiba nods. “Thank you,” she says. “And thank you. For the other day. That was nice, too.”

“No problem,” you say. “Just stay there.”

Courtesy of the giant present, Spinner’s really easy to find. You give him specific directions to where Aiba’s standing, tell him to take it easy, and wish him luck. As you watch him go, you find yourself wondering what’s in the box. Maybe you should have asked. It would have given you a better idea about the kind of thing you should have gotten for Tomura.

“Hey.”

That’s Tomura’s voice. You turn and find him standing behind you, a haphazardly wrapped present in one hand. You feel a temporary surge of relief at the sight. He got something small, too. At least you aren’t alone in totally missing the boat. But then you take a look at the rest of him, and the relief evaporates into something you can only describe as a kind of awestruck surprise. Tomura cleans up nice. Really nice.

Like the rest of his friends, he’s dressed up. Unlike the rest of them, he went pretty standard with it – black suit and tie, although he’s got a red cape around his shoulders. It should be incongruous, but he makes it work. He’s done something to his hair. Brushed it, maybe. Either way, it looks good. You can’t help but stare.

But even though he looks great – he has to know he looks great, right? – he doesn’t look quite comfortable. Maybe because you’re staring at him, and you haven’t said a word. “You look really nice,” you say, and a faint flush comes up in his cheeks. “I didn’t know if you were coming. I know this isn’t really your thing.”

“It’s what you’re doing,” Tomura says, and your face turns red, too. “I want to meet my Secret Santa.”

That’s you. You and your stupid gift that’s too small. “Right,” you say. You fumble in your purse and pull it out, then offer it to him. At least you did a decent job wrapping it. “It was me. I’m your Secret Santa. Here.”

Tomura takes the gift, then holds out the one he’s carrying to you. You did a decent job wrapping it; he probably needs both hands to get it open. “The wrapping on this looks nice,” you say nonsensically while he picks at the tape on yours. “You don’t have to open mine right now. You probably want to give this to the person you were Secret Santa for.”

“I just did.”

It takes way too long for you to figure that one out. “Wait, it was you?”

“You didn’t guess?” Tomura looks almost affronted. “I figured out you were mine days ago.”

“How? Was it my handwriting on the notes?”

“No,” Tomura says. He gives you a weird look. “I wrote on my list that I hate the cold, but I don’t tell anybody that. The only way you would have known is if you got my list.”

“Oh.” You would have thought the thing that gave you away would be bigger than that – like getting too familiar in your notes, slipping up and using his given name and not going back to his surname when you realized your mistake. “Okay.”

“You really didn’t know it was me?” Tomura’s stopped trying to open your gift for the sole purpose of staring at you. “I thought Dabi gave me away. When he was talking about how shitty I am at wrapping gifts.”

You vaguely remember a joke Dabi made. You really shouldn’t have had so much champagne. “Sorry. I should have thought about it a little more.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Tomura says. It’s quiet for a second. “A bad surprise?”

“No,” you say at once. “A good surprise. But – you could have just told me it was you. Then you wouldn’t have had to come to the party.”

“This is what you’re doing.”

“I know, but we could have done something else. Something you wouldn’t hate as much.”

“I don’t hate it as much as last year,” Tomura says. He nods at the gift. “Are you going to open that or what?”

“Yes,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Don’t say thank-you when you don’t know what it is,” Tomura says. “Just – open it.”

You don’t have any idea of what it could be. You know Tomura’s gone through everything on your list already. His wrapping job is easier to get through than yours. You peel back the paper and untie the ribbons and find yourself holding a hat.

It looks sort of like your hat. The one you gave him. But you found that hat on sale somewhere, ages ago, and this one is a lot nicer. Yours is just knitted, but this one has a soft lining, and the fabric on the outside feels like it might be water-resistant. It also has a goofy little pompom on it, which yours definitely doesn’t have. This isn’t anything you’d have bought for yourself. But you like it a lot.

You look up, ready to thank Tomura, and find him staring down at your gift, unwrapped in his hand. “You didn’t leave a note,” he says. “I like the notes.”

You’d facepalm if you weren’t holding the hat. “I thought I would just say what I would have said in the note to you. Face to face.”

He looks up. You’ve never seen that look on his face before. In fact, you’re not sure you’ve seen that look on anybody’s face – wary, expectant, maybe surprised, maybe hopeful. You should have planned what you were going to say a little better. Before you can say anything, though, Tomura speaks up. “How did you know about this game? I’ve been looking for it. Where did you even find it?”

“I found it on Ebay,” you say. “It wouldn’t have shipped in time, so I picked it up in person. I made sure to test it. It works. And as far as finding out about it – I asked Spinner about the kind of games you liked. I wanted to get it right.”

“I half-assed my list. Why would you try that hard?”

“I just – I don’t know,” you say. “I know Toga kind of bullied you into doing this. I wanted you to get something nice out of it. Sad Christmas might make more sense to you – and me, sometimes – but I thought it would be nice for you to have a happy one.”

That was a dumb thing to say. Tomura hasn’t told you a lot about his background – you’ve really only gotten close recently – but what you know isn’t good. It’s dumb of you to think that one video game and a handful of other gifts could rewrite any of that. You avert your eyes in a hurry. “Thank you for the hat. I didn’t mean to make you go off-list.”

“You didn’t make me do anything,” Tomura says. “I just thought you needed a new one. Since I’m keeping yours.”

Your heart skips a beat. “You are?”

“If you weren’t lying when you said it looked okay,” Tomura says. His hand brushes against your jaw, then applies pressure, turning you back to face him. He looks almost frustrated, but his face is flushed in a way you recognize. “And if you like me.”

“Do you like me?” you ask without thinking, and Tomura kisses you.

You’ve been regretting not giving him a real kiss under the mistletoe at work, but now you think it’s for the best that you didn’t. You haven’t had very many good first kisses, and you want a chance to savor this one. You wrap one arm around Tomura’s waist and pull him a little closer, and even though he startles, he keeps kissing you. He’s not hesitant, so you aren’t, either. There’s no way you’re going to be the first one to pull away.

When you do separate, it’s at the same time, and for what you’re pretty sure is the same reason. The music’s kicked back up. “Is that the stupid Grinch song?” Tomura asks, and you nod. He’s ever so slightly out of breath. He looks kind of flustered, but not nearly as much as you want him to. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“I mean, I could always sing All I Want For Christmas Is You again –” You see the face Tomura’s making. “I’m kidding. Where do you want to go?”

“I don’t care,” Tomura says. He unwraps your hand from around his waist, then keeps holding it as he leads you towards the doors. “It doesn’t matter, if you’re coming with me.”

The wind hits you in a sharp blast as soon as you’re outside, and you pull your new hat on one-handed. “Maybe somewhere warm?”

Tomura pulls on your hand, and when you turn towards him, he kisses you again. Now that you’ve got both your hands free and you’re not in the middle of a crowd, you can kiss him how you want to – one arm around his waist, your other hand gathering up a few strands of his hair. Tomura’s breath catches, and a moment later, so does yours, and although it takes a while for you to separate again, you’re both out of breath when you do.

Tomura doesn’t go far. His arms are tight around you, and when he answers a question you’ve almost forgotten, you can feel his breath against your skin. “I’m warm enough.”

the end

<- part xi

[rocknrollsalad]

rating: gen cw: drinking/getting drunk, high society expectations, cranky steve and robin, period typical homophobia tags: no upside down au, rich kid steve au, steddie and Buckingham double date, chirstmas parties, Eddie learns whats in eggnog word count: 2412

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written for the steddiemas prompt "eggnog" but it's a good week late, another victim of the plague I caught lol

“You better go collect your man,” Robin whispered, having appeared out of nowhere.

Steve hissed, “Stop calling him that.”

His eyes darted around the room, both to make sure he wasn’t heard. Robin was right, he hadn’t seen his boyfriend (who was definitely not his date tonight) in a while. Probably not a good sign.

“Well he is,” she scoffed.

“You are supposed to be my date, that’s the cover story. For you and for me. Doesn’t really work if you go around talking about how I really brought Eddie.”

It shut Robin up for a second, just long enough for Steve to enjoy the victory, before she said, “Tell your parents to stop being so uptight.”

Except the counter to that was the same as it always was. “And yours are so cool about it.”

Probably not the round and round Robin wanted when she walked up here on some high horse. One she had no business climbing on. She knew Steve was always a little extra stressed at these stupid dinner parties and that tonight was going to be worse. Instead of being supportive, it was almost like she was trying to sabotage things.

They could talk about it later. Right now, Steve apparently had to go find Eddie because there was no way Robin was saying that for fun. He was doing something. Probably making a run for it…which was smart. Steve could, at least, show him the best escape routes and let him know he didn’t take it personally.

Especially because it was a lot harder for Steve to make that run for it anymore. Ever since they’d brought him in from the kiddie room (which was actually the garage), his moves were tracked. Sure he wasn’t sharing one sad, toppingless pizza with a bunch of kids he didn’t know anymore but at what cost? At least the garage had video games…and no one talking about investments or how he should have gone to college.

Steve went off to find out what was going on with Eddie. Robin, in her endless helpfulness, decided to stay put and give no direction. It left Steve to go from room to room, asking everyone he could. No one had seen him. Something that was maybe a good thing? This meant he wasn’t standing on expensive furniture telling some amazing and elaborate story that would be wasted on these stuffy assholes.

Things got so desperate, Steve asked his mom if she’d seen Eddie. She always knew everything that was happening at these parties. Yet she hadn’t seen him. It seemed unlikely and a quick segue into tired reminders to not cause a scene. This one came with the bonus lecture of not ignoring his date because “no respectable woman is sidelined for a friend, dear.”

And nothing proved more that Steve’s mom didn’t see everything. Not only would he and Robin stick by each other through anything, she wasn’t even his actual date. Though, Steve did have to admit the only people in the world who believed they weren’t dating were them. Probably Chrissy and Eddie but sometimes Steve wasn’t so sure.

Moving on from his mom before he got roped into some mind-numbingly boring discussion, Steve ran into Chrissy. She was Eddie’s date who was really Robin’s date and had been folded into the group shenanigans. Which meant Steve was so ready to drag her into this quest. If he couldn’t have Robin, he could at least have help.

“We’ve lost your date,” Steve sighed, trying not to freak out yet.

“What do you mean?” she asked, instantly jumping to freaking out.

Steve linked their arms together and continued walking on, trying to think of where else he’d hide out. “Robin came up to me and told me to go collect my man. I thought he was doing something embarrassing but, like, I can’t find him. Do you think he’d leave?”

“No,” she cooed. “He’s been so worried about this night, there’s no way he’d leave you. He wouldn’t.”

Something that would have been so much more flattering if Steve had any fucking clue where the guy was.

“The garage!” Steve said, realizing the one place he hadn’t looked.

Chrissy didn’t say anything, just picked up her pace and they sped off toward the kiddie party. Of course. it was in the detached garage. Heaven forbid the kids breathed in the others, dad’s cars would lower in value at the mere thought.

So they barged through the door and onto the familiar path, still arm and arm, laser-focused on the only place it made sense for Eddie to be.

Before the door closed behind them, the soft exclamation of “Steve” was sung out and Chrissy and Steve both leaped into the grass, barely holding back screams as the voice startled them.

Steve easily moved Chrissy behind him as they both looked for the source of the voice, rather than some creepy old guy or party crasher, it was the exact person they were looking for. Both of them let out a matching, but quiet, exclamation for finding Eddie.

He was sat on a stone bench, leaning against the house, and smoking. Not only was he well hidden by shrubbery but Steve had expected to find him indoors. He needed that last glimmer of hope that Eddie was still at the party. And he hadn’t exactly left so that was…something?

“Hey man,” Eddie drawled out.

Steve’s eyes narrowed but he turned to make sure Chrissy was stable and had recovered from the little fright neither of them was going to speak about.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Chrissy said.

Resigning to her point, Steve nodded and went for the “what she said” shrug.

“I’ve been ri-ight here, baby.”

“He’s drunk,” Chrissy and Steve whispered to each other.

“Oh no!” Eddie cried out, dropping his head back. “Who told you?”

“I think you did, champ,” Chrissy laughed.

This probably wasn���t great. Steve went into panic mode immediately, ideas on what to do next sped through his mind followed by the consequences of each. A drunk Eddie was less likely to keep up the ruse, one he and Robin had organized so carefully.

It wasn’t time to come out, yet. Steve knew that time was rapidly approaching. Each and every day he had to lie about who he was with or what he was doing was another stab in the chest but at The Harrington Christmas Soiree? That was not the time. If they could just get into the new year, Steve would come clean, and probably get disowned, but at least it wouldn’t go down for “trying to steal the spotlight”.

Chrissy rubbed her hand between Steve’s shoulder blades. He had to be thinking awfully loudly right now. Where was Robin when he really needed her?

“I didn’t mean to,” Eddie pouted.

Steve watched Eddie pat around the bench and his own clothes, looking for his lighter. It was such a distinct move but it brought in this creeping feeling of normalcy with it. They’d done this before. Both drunk and sober.

As he had many times before, Steve reached into his pocket and got his lighter. Once he was close enough, he shielded the flame so Eddie could re-light his cigarette. Which he did with ease. The smoke billowed from Eddie and cleared both of their heads.

“How’s that work, though?” Steve asked. He then turned to Chrissy and leaned in a bit. “Could you go find Robin, remind her not to gloat, and maybe get a glass of water? In that order of importance.”

“She’s not going to gloat,” Chrissy said but it’s already an apology. They both know the truth. It’s part of Robin’s charm but it’s always extra annoying in moments like these.

“That’s the spirit, let's hope for Christmas miracles.”

They share a giggle that they’ve earned by being as close to Robin as they are and Chrissy disappeared back inside. Steve sat down next to Eddie and moved his hand so Steve could take a quick drag off the cigarette. He’s going to need it…or some of whatever Eddie had.

“Alright, what’s the story then?”

“Have you ever had eggnog,” Eddie asked. A question that feels wildly off topic but, again, he’s a little drunk so a coherent sentence is a great start.

“Yeah, it’s disgusting.”

“No-ooooooooo. No. Look, listen, I mean. It’s not. You’re wrong. Wayne makes it all the time,” Eddie leaned in closer, a hand cupped over his mouth as he whispered. “Every year.”

“Yeah, my parents do too. It’s nasty. The one in the punch bowl is the one you want.”

“Au contraire, that one has alcohol in it and I’m supposed to behave,” Eddie has his finger raised, wagging in the air like a cartoon teaching valuable life lessons.

“And so’s the eggnog.”

“Mmmmmm, no. I think I’d know that.”

“I…actually, yeah. I’d have thought you knew that too. Wait, so how– you know you’re drunk now, right?”

“Yeah but, ya know, we’re not telling Steve. He’s going to make me sleep on the couch for a whole week.”

“Sure,” Steve pressed his lips together and nodded. This was ridiculous and he kind of wished Eddie was just giving some rambunctious nerd speech. “But how’d you get drunk then?”

“Sabotage, obviously. The Harrington’s don’t want the heir to their throne with a commoner like me.”

“So they spiked your drink?”

“Totally.”

“Somehow complimentary you think they’d waste liquor on that,” Steve shrugged and he snatched Eddie’s pack of cigarettes to light one for himself.

“So it was Robin!”

“More believable actually. No, it was the eggnog.”

“There’s not alcohol in eggnog, Wayne wouldn’t give me it if there was.”

“Because you have to put it in, which my parents do.”

In a different situation, this would be funny. Steve might even find a way to laugh about it later but the guilt simmering in his chest for not teaching Eddie about which drinks had liquor is too strong to enjoy the laughable way his boyfriend accidentally got drunk.

All the solutions Steve had run through didn’t fit the situation anymore. They were likely both going to have to leave. Or worse, Eddie and Chrissy were and that’d ruin so many people’s nights.

Before he could think of a way to save everyone’s good time, Chrissy returned. Robin right behind her. Steve quickly stamped out the cigarette like Robin wouldn’t see and stood to talk to them.

He filled them in on the whole eggnog situation. It earned the appropriate level of laughter but once it subsided, they started trying to actually solve the problem. Eddie sat content on the bench, watching them adoringly as they worked out his fate. Steve had to give it to him, he was a very happy drunk.

“Hey, psst, hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey,” Eddie said as they were finalizing some plans to get him upstairs to Steve’s room and full of coffee.

“Oh my god,” Robin said, trying to shut him up.

Steve walked over, leaning into his space so he wasn’t towering over him. “Yeah, man. What’s up?”

“I just need you to know-”

“Oh boy.”

“I came in with a smoking hot blonde but she’s not really my date.”

With all the patience in his body, Steve let out a sigh that was every bitchy comeback he had rolled into one sound, and said “Yup.”

“You’re way better.”

“You didn’t even commit to that. At least hit on me. Ugh. Can you just be cool for like two more minutes?”

“Cool? Yeah? Yeah! I can be cool for so many minutes. Two, ten, six, eighty. I’m good at it.”

“You’re not, so we better do something quick.”

“We should fool around is what we should do. This place has to have so many rooms. I didn’t even peek in half of them.”

Steve turned around and looked at the girls, “I think we gotta leave.”

“You can’t leave your own family Christmas party,” Robin said.

“I’ve done it so many times. Chrissy and Eddie have to go because Eddie’s sick. You and me can work something else out.”

Eddie stood up and leaned on Steve. “You should have some of that eggnog. I guess they make it with alcohol here.”

“Will you stop acting like we don’t know each other!” Steve scrubbed his hand over his face.

Robin sucked her teeth, “Might be for the best, he won’t blow anyone’s cover that way.”

“But he’s being so obnoxious about it,” Steve groaned.

“Good thing he’s the only one being obnoxious,” Robin said, crossing her arms over her chest.

A pose Steve mirrored, “What do you suggest then?”

“Let him sleep it off. He’s right, there’s plenty of rooms here and all we have to do is tell the truth for once. He didn’t know there was alcohol in the eggnog.”

“I didn’t know. I gotta tell Wayne though, it’s way better this way.”

“Who doesn’t know,” Steve groaned. Not frustrated at Eddie for not knowing, not really, but stressed out by the situation and that had to go somewhere.

“What if,” Chrissy said with her shoulders pulled up to her ears. The meek injection spoke to her nervousness but she got everyone’s attention. “We joined Eddie?”

Eddie, who was draped on Steve’s back with an arm over his shoulder and idly rubbing Steve’s chest, hummed in approval. The comfort of Eddie’s weight had Steve forgetting everything they were supposed to be hiding as he melted into the comfort and contact.

Still, he and Robin voiced matching sounds of confusion.

“It’s not embarrassing if the ‘kids’ got drunk. It’s our first time here, they almost expect us to overdo it so…let’s overdo it. Eddie won’t be the one who didn’t know this or that, we’ll all just be young adults doing what’s expected of us.”

Steve pondered the plan. “We couldn’t go wild.”

“It’s not a frat house,” Robin said for Chrissy.

Eddie gave a soft “Yeah” that Steve knew was meant to mock Robin but came out like agreement.

“It could work.”

“It could be fun!” Chrissy cooed, jumping up and down a few times. Maybe they all needed to take the edge off here.

The hand that was on Steve’s chest now held his cheek as Eddie kissed the other one.

“Alright, alright. Let’s go have some fun,” Steve groaned, doing his best to act like he hated this.

“Finally!”

[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine - Chapter sixteen: "What do you mean Wheels up?"

Summary: Stephen's death and Emily's kidnapping are a hard blow to the team. Spencer and his wife haven't slept in over 48 hours and fighting is the only way to go, apparently.  Word count: 6.074 Warnings: Cursing, spoilers of Criminal Mind Ep S13 01, angst A/N: The Reids need a break from everything. And no matter wht you say, the "wheels up" scene is the cringiest moment in the entire show. Try to prove me wrong. 

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(Y/N)’s point of view

We waited for a few minutes in the hospital hall until our friends got there. We had called their family and let them know what was going on. Spencer seemed to be in severe pain, and there were too many reasons: lack of sleep, stress, hospital lighting… the fear our friend had been hurt, Emily was missing and Stephen was dead. My husband was clearly having post-traumatic stress syndrome, with no time to deal with any emotion he might have to face.

It got worse after talking to Rossi. He was refusing treatment until he spoke to Luke, Spencer, and me.

- “First, you, go through my pants pockets and find my keys. There's a little one there in a file cabinet in my office. You following me?”

The man had hit his head, was still bleeding, and looked at us like he was about to give us the secret location of the holy grail.

- “Yes, I’m following.”- Luke said, holding the keys.

- “Inside, there's Chicago Bears season tickets. When you get them, you call Matt Simmons. I promised him those tickets.”

So Rossi hit his head harder than we had anticipated. We tried to convince him he was under any drug effect, but he got so mad he called us “assclowns” and forced us to go to the BAU and do as he asked us. It was the only way he would accept treatment.

- “I can’t arrest him.”- Spencer said as we reached the bullpen. Luke and I turned to him as he covered his eyes with one hand for the hundredth time in the last half hour.

- “What are you talking about?”- Alvez asked him.

- “Scratch.”- my husband explained and made an effort to look at us- “The second I see his face, I am going to kill him.”

- “Reid, come on! No one could blame you, we all wanna end that bastard.”- Luke tried to ease the mood, but I knew Spencer meant it. He wanted to add something, but he covered his eye with one hand with a painful expression. I wanted to hold him and take him away from all that pain, but we needed to help our friends.

- “What's wrong with me?”- Spencer whispered as I kissed his hand. Neither of us had rested a lot, and his crazy hair showed how little time he had had to take care of himself in the last 48 hours.

- “I’m pretty sure it’s PTSS. You’ve been in hyper-vigilant mode for the last 48 hours, we haven’t slept, eaten or rested, and shit keeps going south.”- I replied and rubbed his arms. - “I would suggest you take some time off to deal with this, but we both know…”

- “I don't have time to process my emotional state.”- Spencer added and I just nodded.

- “That's exactly when you make time, right? You ask for help. There's no shame in that.”- Luke tried to help, but Spencer’s attention was lost.

- “Rossi's office.”

- “Yeah. I'll handle that.”- Alvez tried to continue talking, but Spencer stopped him as he started walking away.

- “No. There's someone in Rossi's office.”

My husband was right, Penelope and Agent Simmons were in the room when we walked in, and they immediately gesticulated us not to make a sound and to give them our phones. Once they put them in a little wooden box filled with Cuban cigars Rossi had on his desk, Pen finally explained:

- “Ok. Now that we are secure, I got that for Rossi last year. Not only is it a cigar case, but it's also a Faraday case. It blocks all radio and cell signals. I think Scratch might be listening to us with our cell phones, even when they're off.”

I felt naked as soon as I heard that. What had Scratch heard…

- “That explains why Rossi was so cagey in the hospital.”- Luke added- “All right. Let's find these tickets.”

But as soon as he opened the drawer, all we could see were files about Scratch.

- “What is this?”- I asked as I grabbed one and went through the pages.

- “Stephen was brought on board for one reason. That was to catch Scratch.”- Simmons explained- “That is his entire investigation into him. He kept all his records off-site, updating Prentiss and Rossi through hard copies.”

- “If it's off the cloud, Scratch can't hack it.”- Spencer added, making it sound so obvious it hurt I didn’t realize it sooner.

- “Have you guys read it?”- I asked immediately.

- “No. Prentiss ordered it compartmentalized, eyes-only clearance, but she also felt there should be at least one failsafe who wasn't part of the BAU who knew about it just in case of emergency. That's why Garcia called me.”

Emily fucking Prentiss was the best, no questions asked.

- “All right. Let's dig in. I mean, this may be our only chance at stopping this bastard.”- Luke grabbed a few files and started passing them around. I followed him and got ready to read and find my best friend. We had to bring her back and make Scratch pay for what he had done.

Spencer’s point of view

It wasn’t a good day, let's put it that way. The fact Stephen was dead and that it could have been anyone on the team was too painful to start analyzing. It got real. I had always been, but it reminded us we could go through the same any day on the field.

Monica, Stephen’s wife, called Luke and asked him to go with her to the hospital to see her husband for the last time. It broke my heart to even think that that could be my wife, visiting my corpse.

But I didn’t have time to think about it. We had to find Prentiss.

I knew my wife was trying to focus as well, but tears kept falling down her cheeks as she read the files from Stephen’s investigation. I wanted to comfort her, but again, we had no time to process, to feel sorry, to feel at all. We were against the clock, and every minute Prentiss was away was a minute I knew she was being tortured.

All I could do was read file after file and make a major effort to find a lead.

Until I did.

- “What? Prentiss texted Hotch?”- (Y/N) asked as she read the print I had found. Garcia stood by her side in the conference room and read the paper over and over again, still not believing what I had found.

- “According to Stephen's documentation, yes.”- I replied.

- “It must have been a coordinated attempt to share intel. Would Hotch have exposed himself like this?”- Simmons asked, looking confused.

- “No!”- me and my wife yell at the same time.

- “And neither would she!”- I added and continued talking as I wrote the last message on the board. - “I mean, she wouldn't rely on a hackable app, and she sure as hell wouldn't write, “A.H.,” in a text. That defeats the purpose of compartmentalizing the investigation.”- I rambled, starting to feel very irritated by the slow pace we had figuring out where Prentiss was.

- “It was a smoke screen.”- Garcia whispered, shocked.

- “Prentiss knew they had to triple watch their backs because Scratch has always had eyes and ears everywhere.”- (Y/N) added and crossed her arms on her chest, looking upset and tired as well.

- “Stephen had a background in counterintelligence. He must have designed this. He faked the Hotch side of the conversation to entice Scratch to make a move.”- I nodded at Simmon’s words as I turned and looked at my team.

- “The size and scale of which indicate desperation, a desperation he hasn't shown after a year of hiding, so why now?”

My question hung in the air for a few seconds, until (Y/N) said.

- “It’s clear that the last text hit a note on him. We know Scratch has been obsessed with Hotch ever since the very beginning. He has to be trying to get his location from Em.”- that didn’t help keep me calm at all, but I knew she was right.

- “(Y/N) is right, A.H. is a pretty big red flag. Maybe that's what brought him out.”- Simmons added.

- “Well, they used Hotch's initials in other texts before.”- Garcia suggested- “Maybe that’s not it…”

- “Then they found something else, something they knew would rattle him.”- I turned to read the message again when my wife asked.

- “What’s B-cap?

- “Geography maybe. I mean, it's mentioned in relevance to DC.”- I heard Simmom’s theory, but it didn’t feel right. To make it worse, my eye was still bothering me, I was feeling anxious and I couldn’t focus.

- “Maybe it’s a code name for a partner.”- (Y/N) suggested.

- “I can't see it.”- I whispered, annoyed. That shouldn’t be that hard. There had to be something there to help me decode those letters, and I couldn’t see it. It was so frustrating and irritating I had to deal with it alone before I snapped in front of my team. And my wife.

- “Hey, no. Why don't we kick it over to the team? Maybe they can suss out…”- Penelope was still talking when I started pushing her and Simmons out of the room.

- “No. No time. Get out!”

- “What?”- Garcia looked at me like I had just asked the most random thing on earth, but I kept gently pushing her and Simmons out.

- “Get out. Sorry. You too, chipmunk, please.”

- “What? Why me?”- the way (Y/N) stared at me was both hurt and confused.

- “I'm sorry, but get out.”- I kissed (Y/N)’s forehead as Garcia grabbed her computer, Matt took the folders and I closed the door behind them.

I needed to be alone and focused. I was exhausted, but there was no time to rest. Prentiss was in danger and I had to make an effort and figure out that message as fast as possible.

(Y/N)’s point of view

I stared at Spencer pacing in the conference room for almost an hour. It was killing me because I knew how much he was pushing himself to get the right answer. He felt responsible, he was taking the burden all alone, and it was painful to know he wouldn’t even let us help.

- “Did he even sleep?”- Garcia asked and held my hand, trying to comfort me.

- “No more than an hour. Morgan stopped by with donuts.”

- “Yeah, he told me he wanted to catch up with him.”

- “I didn’t get time to hug him. I really need a hug from Morgan right now.”- I whispered and Pen held my hand tighter.

- “This I might be able to help with.”- Matt Simmons said and pointed at the text on the screen- “Prentiss’ last text had to do with Honduras. Scratch's last known sighting before tonight was Honduras.”

- “Right, and we thought Scratch fled there.”

- “Right. Prentiss asked the IRT to contact our Central American sources just to see if we could find anything. Now, we never did. We also never stopped to ask why Scratch was in Honduras in the first place.”

- “Clearly, not for the baleadas.”- I whispered and stood up. I needed to move to keep my head focused because I was both falling asleep and losing my mind sitting there.

- “Reid will figure this out.”- Garcia said with such conviction I felt hopeful for a second.- “He's really amazing at this kind of thing.”

That was the moment my husband picked to toss a book against the window, shocking us all. He was like a madman inside that room, with crazy hair and crazy weary eyes. I ran over and stormed into the conference room with Matt and Garcia. But before I could ask Spencer what the hell had happened, he started talking:

- “B-cap is short for Banisteriopsis caapi.”

- “What the hell just happened?”- I asked, but he ignored me and continued explaining.

- “It's a plant, specifically a hallucinogen that's found in a tea called ayahuasca.”

- “We worked on a couple of those cases, I think. If I remember, it's like peyote.”- Simmons added and my husband nodded and continued talking.

- “Yeah, in multiple ways. They're similar legally in that taking them is considered a religious practice, and pharmacologically, they're similar in that both drսg cause you to hallucinate intense, geometric patterns and vomit a lot.”

- “Ok. What does this have to do with Scratch?”- Garcia questioned, still looking shaky after the book-throwing scene.

- “Well, Scratch has a cocktail of disassociative drugs to induce delusions, but a mathematical mind like his would always be looking for ways to tweak and improve the formula.”- my husband explained.

- “Ok, so he wanted to get this B- cap and use it against his victims?”- I asked him and he nodded.

- “Exactly.”

- “So he went to Honduras to look for it. He then brought it back to DC to experiment with it. Stephen and Emily came to the same conclusion and tried to pretend like they were hot on his trail.”- Simmons summarized Spencer’s idea as my husband came up with a plan:

- “We need to track down all practitioners of the ceremony in the district... Shamans, gurus, overnight religions that just hung their first shingle. He could be using one of their volunteers as a partner, either witting or unwitting.”

Penelope, Matt, and I nodded, but none of us moved. Spencer frowned and stared at us confused.

- “What?”- he asked us.

- “You threw a book at a window. It was jarring.”- Garcia whispered, still shocked.

- “It took me sixty minutes to deduce what should have taken me sixty seconds, and if Emily dies because I was too slow, I'll be throwing a lot more than books.”

And just like that, my husband stormed out of the conference room. But I wasn’t gonna let him throw a tantrum and make me feel bad about it. So I followed him.

- “Stop it!”- I whispered/yelled and grabbed his hands to force him to turn and look at me, as he reached his desk in the bullpen.

- “What? Working? I don't think it’s a good idea, all things considered.”- Spencer hadn’t snapped at me at work in a very long while, though it didn’t surprise me. He was exhausted, but so was I, and I wasn’t throwing things around.

- “Stop trying to do this on your own, Spencer! We are a fucking team!”- I raised my voice ‘cos I didn’t have any more patience to deal with him.

- “I know we are, but I need to focus! This is the kind of thing I am good at, and I am failing!”- Spencer’s voice was hard, he was almost yelling and I was glad the bullpen was mostly empty.

- “You are failing at being a team member! We are all worried sick about Em, not just you!”

- “Don’t you think I know that?! I am worried about JJ, Rossi, and Tara too! And they are not here to help us solve this case, so it’s just us two, who have barely slept or eaten, plus Garcia and Simmons!”

- “Exactly! Not just you! So fucking let us help!!”

- “I need to do this!”- Spencer argued and I nearly lost it.

- “Why don’t you take a trip to Mexico behind my back again then, maybe that would help!”

- “Oh! you were waiting for a chance to throw that to my face!!”

- “Stop it!”- Penelope grabbed our hands and forced us to stop yelling at each other.- “I love you both, and I know you are not at your best, so please, for your family’s sake, stop arguing right now!”.

- “Can you tell him he is being a jerk?”- I replied and Penelope nearly gasped. - “He is! You know he is!”

- “So are you!”- my husband argued and Garcia was now officially shocked.

- “You are making me act like a jerk!”

- “Time out! Both of you!”- Garcia raised her voice- “You are going to sit in the conference room and fix your problems while me and Simmons are going to find the ayahuasca dealer who is covering Scratch, and we won’t talk to you until you have talked like adults and not the annoying brats you are being!”

- “We don’t have time for this!”- Spencer argued as Garcia started pushing us to the conference room.

- “Then make time for this!”- she said and slammed the door behind us. She locked us there, forgetting (or overlooking) the other door in the room, wide open.

- “This is crazy, we should be after Scratch!”- Spencer complained as I sat at the conference table and stared at him, pacing back and forth the room.

- “We? Don’t you mean you, Spencer?”- I crossed my arms on my chest and stared at him as his face changed.

- “Why are you making such a big deal about it? I am good at figuring things out! Period!”- my husband stared at me, crazy hair, weary eyes, exhausted, and angry. I was sorry I was being mean, but I couldn’t hold it. He was in so much pain he kept covering his right eye with one hand, still struggling with his vision. And yet, he refused to stop and ask for help.

- “I know you are good at it! You are good at fucking everything, Spencer! But that doesn’t mean you have to figure it out all alone! You can’t just throw us out of a room ‘cos you need to think, and you can’t fucking slam books at a window and not expect us to be worried!! What the hell were you thinking?!”

I stood up and waited for his answer. He looked at me and simply raised his arms, like asking me a question.

- “You know this is not our regular case! This is not a normal situation! We are worried, frustrated, and exhausted!”

- “Spencer! I know that!”

- “Then why are you nagging me?”

- “Because I am tired of feeling you keep pushing me away when things get hard like I can’t handle shit!”- I yell and finally take the anger off my chest- “You don’t ask for my help! You wanna solve everything on your own! I know you wanna keep me safe, but it’s so frustrating ‘cos I know I can help you and you don’t fucking let me! Ever!”

- “You know I trust you! You are an amazing SSA!”- Spencer tries to explain, but I don’t let him go on. I groan in frustration and shake my head.

- “Not here! At home! You are your own island! I know things haven’t been at their best lately! I know having your mom has been challenging and I feel incredibly guilty because I told you it was ok to bring her home with us! But I just want to help! And you never let me in!”

- “(Y/N), I’ve had to deal with my mother alone my entire life!”- Spencer yelled like it was groundbreaking news.

- “Not for the last ten years or more, Spencer!”- I replied and felt almost insulted.- “I’ve supported you, loved you, and helped you with Diana since we were friends! I’ve loved her since we met!”

- “But she is not your mom! She is my problem! My burden!”- Spencer’s voice shook as he finished that sentence, and covered his eyes one more time.

- “We are not married just to fuck and raise our kids! We are married to share the good and bad things! I’ve told you a million times, that we are in this together! Whatever “This” is! Stop pushing me away or I’m actually gonna go away! Is that what you want?”

Spencer stared at me after I finished shouting. He seemed hurt, not angry, not upset, he looked at me as if I had just shot him, and he had never seen it coming.

- “I love you with my life, but we can’t go on like this.”- I whispered and took a few steps closer to him. Enough yelling, we really had to start moving in that conversation and fix things- “This whole situation showed us how much work we still need.”

- “(Y/N), all I’ve ever wanted to do was to protect you.”- my husband sounded so wounded as he said those words, and I felt guilty for having that conversation, though I knew we needed it.

- “I know, but ironically, you keep hurting me in the process.”- I replied and took another few steps closer to him. He held my hands and rested them against his face, cradling his cheeks.

- “I know I’m stupid when it comes to feelings… I’m sorry.”

- “Were you planning to tell me about Mexico or did you actually think you could keep it from me forever?”- I asked him and he took a deep breath before replying.

- “I really wanted to tell you. I've felt like shit since it happened.”

- “Did it just happen once?”

- “Yes. I planned a second trip but never made it.”

- “Why didn’t you? You felt guilty?”

- “That, and the kids got sick that weekend. I could never leave you alone with them.”- Spencer confessed and he closed his eyes as if the thought brought him pain. He looked ashamed. - “I’m so sorry.”

I wrapped my arms around Spencer and he held me so tight against his body, I had trouble breathing for a second.

- “I hate when Cat Adams gets into my head.”- I whispered against his chest and my husband kissed the top of my head.

- “It was my fault, I let her get too close this time.”

- “Fuck yeah you did, she even sat on your lap.”- I looked at him and he caressed my cheeks carefully and slowly as he stared into my eyes.

- “I did what I could to get my mother home safe.” - Spencer’s voice was so apologetic my chest tightened as I heard him.

- “I know… but it doesn’t mean it was nice to hear, or watch.”

- “You know you are the only woman on earth for me.”- he added quickly as he raised my chin with his index finger, forcing me to lock eyes with him.

- “Derek might add other planets to that list as well, Space Boy.”- I teased and Spencer sighed, nodding.

- “True.”- he held me a few more minutes, letting the whole argument sink in.- “I don’t want to push you away.”

- “I know… it comes naturally when you are under pressure. You shut everybody out.”

He didn’t say anything else, I knew what he was thinking. A part of him wanted to apologize, the rest of his brain kept thinking about Emily. I sighed and looked at him, as my hands tried to fix his messy and crazy hair a little.

- “We’ll figure it out. Now let’s bring Em back.”

Spencer’s point of view

(Y/N) and I were still reading some of the files with Scratch’s intel Stephen had collected over the recent months when our cell phone rang. We both read the text, it was an address. Matt and Penelope had a location. They were on their way.

- “We are ten minutes closer.”- I whispered and my wife dropped the file on the table.

- “Hurry!”

We both knew we shouldn’t be doing that, neither of us had slept, I could barely see with one eye and my mental health was… unhealthy, to call it somehow decent. I was ignoring all the signs of burnout, anxiety, and panic attacks because I didn’t have time to deal with it. And my poor wife was unquestionably exhausted.

I kept the AC ice cold, trying to keep (Y/N) awake as she drove. The cold could help her stay focused, because it has a stimulating effect on your body, helping to counteract drowsiness, as well as improve mental clarity and alertness.

- “I’m fucking freezing.”- she whispered.

- “I’m trying to keep you awake, chipmunk.”- I replied and rubbed her leg.

- “I’m about to start singing all the Frozen songs.”- I chuckled remembering Raven would force us to watch that movie at least once a week back then. Even my mother knew some of the songs.

- “Did you double-check your bulletproof vest?”- I knew I had checked it myself, but I had to ask again.

- “Yes, you?”

- “Yes.”- she parked and we basically jumped out of the SUV.

- “You take right, I take left.”- I suggested but my wife shook her head even before I was done talking.

- “We are not splitting. We walk in together and walk out together. Is it clear?”

- “Yes ma'am.”

We rushed inside and less than a minute later, we heard the first gunshot. The place was a three-floor warehouse. We ran toward the sound, in hopes of finding Emily. My wife was right behind me, both our guns pointing around us the entire time.

And then, I saw her, Em, running up the stairs as Scratch tried to catch her.

- “FBI!”- I shouted and pulled the trigger. But I didn’t get him, I couldn’t even focus my gaze. He shot back, and I had to take two steps back, pushing my wife behind me to keep her safe.

- “Are you ok?”- I whispered as she nodded.

- “Are you?”

- “Yes, let’s go, Emily is on the run.”

We went upstairs but didn’t find anything. Instead, we heard Alvez’s voice from the first floor and decided to regroup with him.

- “Prentiss!”- I yelled as soon as I heard another gunshot. I was on edge, ‘cos I knew at the sight of Scratch I wasn’t going to talk to him, I wasn’t hoping for an interrogation or even to see him rot in jail. No. I wanted to be the one to put a bullet in that man’s head. I needed to see him bleed and get cold to be sure no one else in my family was ever going to be threatened by him.

- “Lower your weapon, damn it!”- Prentiss whispered as I found her and Matt behind some boxes on the first floor.

- “Where is Scratch?”- I asked immediately.

- “He is upstairs.”- Em whispered.- “Tag in here, Simmons and Alvez can box him in.”

- “No, I need to go find him.”

- “No, no, no, Spence. Please. I need someone I know is real right now, all right?”- Emily begged me and my wife moved closer to her and wrapped her arms around her. Simmons took his chance and ran away to catch Scratch. When my wife moved from Emily, I wrapped my arms around Prentiss and held her close to me.

- “Are you ok?”- I whispered as Prentiss nodded and tried not to cry.

- “Do you wanna go to the car?”- (Y/N) asked.- “This whole floor is clear. Scratch was alone here. Cocky bastard.”

- “Yeah, I need to get out of here.”- Emily replied. I held her and helped her walk as my wife grabbed her from the other side and supported her weight too,-

- “Scratch is down.”- we heard Alvez’s voice on the monitor a few seconds later.- “I repeat, Scratch is down.”

And though the nightmare was over, I didn’t feel relieved at all.

- “He fell, trying to escape.”- Luke explained to us as we stood next to the body. It made his death real, but it didn’t help with closure. It felt oddly wrong. The bastard was dead but all the pain he had caused was still here, hunting us. Knowing he was gone wasn’t enough to make it go away.

Coming back home to our kids was all we needed. That day, after visiting the team at the hospital, and dragging Emily along for a check-up, we went to Sofia’s and spent the rest of the day with our babies and my mother. Raven was so happy to see us she didn't let either of us go the entire day. Not even for nap time. (Y/N) held Vincent most of the time, she didn’t want to let him go, even when our 22-month-old wasn’t very excited to be stopped from running around.

- “We need time off from work.”- my wife whispered as we both lay on her old bed, holding our sleepy babies close to us.

- “We do.”- I replied and moved my hand from Raven’s back to my wife’s leg, rubbing it carefully a few times.

- “Maybe permanently.”- she added after a few seconds. But I didn't have an answer for those words. Not yet at least. So I just closed my eyes and sighed, ready to fall asleep.

(Y/N)’s point of view

Stephens’ funeral was something I wasn’t ready to deal with. I still felt overwhelmed by everything that had happened, and I didn’t feel prepared to face Monica, his wife. When I saw her sitting with their two kids, I kept seeing myself instead, crying over Spencer’s casket.

I didn’t know how to deal with the angst that that image produced me. I just held my husband’s hand tight as we stood next to Penelope and Simmons. Speeches were said, and people spoke about Stephen’s incredible career, his brilliant mind, and his good heart. All the things we were never going to share with him.

Somehow, Emily was strong enough to say some words at the ceremony. Being in a cemetery wasn't doing any good for anyone’s mental health at the moment, but we loved Stephen too much not to be there to say one last goodbye.

- “We never get to say good-bye the way we want, and when we deal with a loss so sudden and cruel, our emotions can overwhelm us.”

Prentiss’ voice was clear and strong. I bit my lips to stop crying, and Spencer wrapped an arm around me, kissing the top of my head.

- “Stephen Walker was a good agent, but he was a better man. He made the world a better place, and we can honor him by doing the work he never got to do.”

He never got to watch his kids grow. He never got to kiss his wife one more time. He didn’t get to retire, have a life, catch Mr. Scratch, and watch how he made the world a better place. There were too many things Stephen didn’t get to do, and all that ‘cos a psycho killer murdered him. I just sobbed and hid my face in Spencer’s shirt. He held me tight and didn’t let me go during the entire ceremony.

I couldn't even talk to Monica, I was too affected. However, I watched Emily and JJ talking with her, so after they lowered the casket and most people were gone, Spencer whispered in my ear:

- “Ready to go?”- and I just nodded.

- “Prentiss asked us to meet her at the BAU.”- Mat announced to us as we started walking. I didn’t want to go there, I wanted to go home and be with my kids. But I knew if Em wanted us to go to the BAU, it was serious. It wasn’t a meeting at Rossi’s after something had emotionally affected the team, it was formal.

When we walked into the conference room, Emily was waiting for us. She stood alone, like taking the room in. God knows how fucked up she was after being taken by Scratch, we had very little time to talk to her. We had little time for anything and everything at that moment. Rossi stood by her side as we all heard her saying to Matt.

- “I wanted to thank you for all of your help.”

- “Well, it was good to be of help. Ever since the IRT went down, I've been sitting on my hands waiting for a new assignment.”- he replied with a short smile.

- “We should sit down tomorrow. We can talk about that.”- Em suggested with a nod.

- “I'd like that.”

I don’t know why knowing there was a chance Matt joined the team made me feel better about my constant thoughts of leaving. Maybe ‘cos it meant someone else could step in and take our place.

- “So we all need to discuss what Peter Lewis' death means for this team.”- Emily was in full chief-of-department mode. Spencer, who was standing by my side, held my hand and intertwined our fingers as he kept looking at Prentiss.

- “It means that Hotch can come back.”- Penelope suggested, which I hadn’t thought about to be honest. Would he like to come back to this job? A job I didn’t know if I wanted anymore?

- “Yeah. We spoke to him. He was relieved that he and Jack were out of danger. They're out of Witness Protection, but...”- Rossi paused as if he didn’t want to break our hearts with the truth.

- “He's not coming back, is he?- JJ finished his sentence and David just nodded.

- “He loves being a full-time dad.”- Prentiss added- “He never got to do that before, and, let's face it, in this job…”

- “There's always gonna be another Scratch, and he's lost enough.”- Rossi’s words were somber, but filled with honesty. Of us all, Aaron Hotchner was the one person who had been forced to sacrifice too much for the team, for the victims, for the benefit of the Bureau. He deserved a life out of that madness and just be happy. Who knew? Maybe Beth could take him back after all those years.

- “We all have.”- Tara pointed out and looked at me. Of course, she knew I was a mess. But to be fair, we were all destroyed after those last couple of days.

- “Yes. We have, which is why the director has ordered us to take some time off from handling cases.”

At that moment right here, I felt like a whole brick wall had been lifted from my shoulders.

- “But before we all leave, there's one last thing I need to say.”- Prentiss continued talking. - “Scratch got deeper into my head than I care to admit, and the only way I was able to stay sane was by repeating a mantra, two words. You know what those two words were?”

- “Fuck you?”- I asked, but Prentiss shook her head.

- “Wheels up. It saved my life when I wasn't sure I was gonna make it because it reminded me that you were out there fighting, so take your rest... You've earned it. But when we get back, wheels up, Matt.”- Em turned to Simmons and he looked at Rossi for a second before answering:

- “Wheels up, Emily.”

- “Wheels up, Tara.”- Prentiss asked and I closed my eyes for a second, feeling the anxiety filling my body. My friend was about to ask us all one by one if we committed to the team after our weeks off and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life.

- “Wheels up.”- Lewis replied with a short smile.

- “Wheels up.”- JJ said before she was asked to answer,

- “Wheels up.” - Penelope did the same, and her voice cracked slightly.

- “Wheels up.” - Luke added

- “Damn right, wheels up.”- Rossi gave it a twist and then turned to my husband. His hand was still holding mine and I gave it a little squeeze. He looked at me and then at the people around us and finally nodded as he replied.

- “Wheels up.”

And then, they all stared at me. I didn’t know what to answer; I was feeling my peers’ pressure. So I opened my mouth and before I knew it, I heard myself saying.

- “Wheels up.”

And I immediately regretted it. 

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[chugging-antiseptic-dye]

Seventeen as Chinese Idioms 🥢 :

Scoups: Love the house with its crows (ài wū jí wū) Meaning: Loving people as they are/ with their flaws Scoups is the epitome of fully and utterly loving someone. Flaws? Weaknesses? Those are what makes you who you are. If those were 'fixed' you would not be the same person to him.

Jeonghan: The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind (tángláng bǔ chán, huángquè zài hòu) Meaning: Not realizing the hidden danger when focusing on small gains Jeonghan is someone who looks at the big picture in any situation. He is always ready to threaten, cajole, plead, adapt, compromise, etc. to achieve his goal. Here, he is the oriole or the hidden danger. He waits till only one move will ensure his victory.

Joshua: When the sandpiper and the clam fight each other, it’s the fisherman who benefits (yù bàng xiāngzhēng, yúwēng dé lì) Meaning: To take advantage of a situation/conflict Joshua works harder and smarter. Why bother to get into a troublesome situation when he is going to win either way? He values his peace way too much. If you watched nana tour, you would see that both him and Jeonghan wanted to destroy Mingyu's meringue but when Jeonghan splashed a tub of water on Mingyu, Joshua just ran away :3 He is not getting into a fight, thank you very much.

Jun: A crane in a flock of chickens (hè lì jī qún) Meaning: An astounding person in a room full of mediocre ones Three words can explain this idiom perfectly: Jun's stage presence. Even if we forget everything else, his stage presence is out of this world. Carats are so lucky that Jun chose to debut in Seventeen instead of becoming a full-time actor.

Hoshi: A lion uses its full strength even when hunting a rabbit (shīzi bǔ tù, yì yòng quánlì) Meaning: Giving your best effort in everything Hoshi gives 200 percent energy in everything. Dance practice? Stage performance? Going seventeen episode? Some random skit? Tiktok challenges? He never underestimates anything related to his career as an idol and he even gives his all into having fun. He is one of a kind.

Wonwoo: Those who eat with one chopstick will stay hungry (yòng yīgè kuàizi chīfàn de rén shì è de) Meaning: Finding balance in life It's one of my favourite Chinese sayings. Food is meant to be eaten with two chopsticks and life is meant to be lived in a measured way. Nothing too extreme or too unbalanced. And Wonwoo is someone who understands how to balance his public life and private life. He surrounds himself with lots of hobbies and yet no one will catch him slacking when it comes to his career.

Woozi: Having love, drinking water will fill you up, without love, eating food will leave you hungry (yǒuqíng yǐnshuǐ bǎo, wúqíng shí fàn jī) Meaning: Love makes everything bearable Jihoon has so much love to give and it shows when he looks at his members and in his songs. He is the epitome of sharing hardship and happiness together. He is not afraid to work from the bottom if it is for someone/something he loves.

Dokyeom: Freezing into three feet depth can’t be done in one day (bīngdòng sān chǐ, fēi yī rì zhī hán) Meaning: Taking things step by step/ Rome was not built in a day If this idiom doesn't describe Dokyeom, I don't know who else it does. He has been constantly taking vocal lessons for more than ten years. He practices his vocal exercises everyday. Dokyeom does not give up nor does he rush. He improves at his own pace.

Mingyu: Fall in the moat and you’ll be wiser next time (chī yī qiàn , cháng yī zhì) Meaning: When one makes a mistake, one knows what to avoid Here, I was leaning more into how Mingyu wants to experience everything even once. Maybe some of them were bad experiences or maybe in hindsight he realized that some of them were mistakes. But I don't think he still regrets anything though. He lives in the moment.

Minghao: Cherish a broom as if it was gold (jiā yǒu bì zhǒu, xiǎng zhī qiānjīn) Meaning: Appreciating small things in life Minghao's mindset of finding joy in small things is one of my favourite things about him. His aura screams contentment and mindfulness. I truly believe that he, literally, cherishes his broom/vacuum as if it was gold.

Seungkwan: Three parts fate, seven parts hard work.” (sān fēn tiān zhù dìng, qī fēn kào dǎ pīn) Meaning: While destiny is written, it still depends on you Everyone knows how hard Seungkwan promoted Seventeen when they were rookies. He is the personification of hard work. Fate has nothing on him. He would fistfight it if he could.

Vernon: Pretending to be a Pig to eat a Tiger (bàn zhū chī lǎo��hǔ) Meaning: Hiding one's real strength Most of the time Vernon trends for being funny or for 'Vernon-ing' but not for his skills or talents. I am not saying people don't appreciate him or that he is actively hiding himself. It's just he is not known for them. He writes, produces, sings and his rap flow is so unique. He was almost in the performance unit!! Man is so underrated, I swear.

Chan: Crouching Tigers, Hidden Dragons (wòhǔ cáng lóng) Meaning: Talented people hiding from view Chan has a Santa alter ago and his magic bag is hiding all the skills Chan has. Cause what do you mean he can act, sing, dance, rap, be a professional comedian AND play the piano. He is chronically offline because his real life goal is to be the best in everything!! Every new thing I learn sends a shock to my system.

[art2464]

For the next few episodes it continues like normal. Winter is their big sibling, there’s no universe in which they’d do something so terrible, so Ozander and Ophia just ignore the elephant in the room whenever they’re home, they are in Hardcore denial mode.

Then something happens and Winter gets outed as Cloudweaver. Ophia immediately goes on the defensive, asking how Winter could do such an awful thing. Ozander on the other hand, is just trying to hold back tears. This is their big sibling, why would the person who pushed them both to enter into the academy be a villain?

The main question the partners ask is Why? Just why?

To which Winter tells them it’s a long story.

Cw: Child abuse, running away

Well, the best way to start this is at the beginning. You two weren’t born yet, but our mom and dad… they fought a lot, and I learned to hide in the closet. They weren’t good people, but I was young, what choice did I have.

Then you two were born, and I realized it was my job to protect you. I taught you everything I knew, how to walk, how to talk, how to avoid our parents wrath. I took the fall for you two where I could. If you broke a toy playing too rough, it was my fault. If you were too loud and it woke them up, it was my fault…

Then one day I… I overheard mom “joking” about killing us. And I realized… she could, it’s not like anyone would come looking if we stopped existing. That was the day I vowed we’d run away. It’s nothing short of a miracle we made it out before they knew we were gone.

Ophia: “Wait, why didn’t you go to the police?”

Winter: You don’t think I didn’t try? When I told them what happened they said they needed to get the second party involved. I knew what that meant and booked it before they could send us back.

Ozander: “Well what about odd squad? They would have taken us in.”

Winter: I tried odd squad. But as soon as I mentioned why we needed protections from the villains in question… they kicked us out because of our bio family.

Ozander: “Are we-?!”

Winter: “I kept on running we lived on the streets for a while. It wasn’t easy, but we were safe. I tried CPS, hell I tried every child welfare agency I heard of but no one saw past the fact that I was a child. I’d gather change on the ground and buy us a small piece of food a day. It wasn’t much but it kept us alive.

Then one day about three weeks after, I was searching for change when around the corner I saw a villain (noisemaker I think) surrounded by odd squad agents. I could have walked away but I knew he was just trying to get by, same as we were, so I kicked over a trash can giving him enough time to escape. In return for my kindness, he offered me one in return, a place to stay.

Winter was coming, things were going to get harder than they already were. So I accepted. They gave me a job, I was the diversion, and in turn for doing well, we were given a home, food and safety. When I felt safe enough to tell them about what happened, they started my training.

Ophia: what training?

They started trying to activate and then control my powers. They trained me for a few years then I was sent on missions to cause oddness. Afterward I traveled the world on business trips, creating everything from pienados to spaghetti storms.

Ozander: But why push us to get involved in odd squad, why volunteer to help so much? Wouldn’t that just increase your chances of getting caught?

Winter: I needed a backup plan, if they ever found us, and the villains couldn’t stop them… I needed you two to be safe. I need you two to stay safe, odd squad takes care of its agents, if you were agents you’d be safe.

Ozander: Who’s they? And what was that about us being related to someone odd squad doesn’t take in?

Winter: … our parents. They were the old leaders of the villains, they got kicked out pretty fast when I came forward with what happened.

Ozander: Didn’t you say they were dead? As in we have visited their graves every year for the past decade, kind of dead.

Winter: That was a lie… I didn’t want you to get curious and get hurt.

Ozander: That wouldn’t have happened!

Winter: That’s what happened here.

Ophia: Where are they now?

Winter: I’m not certain but from what I know they’re locked in a lead box, in the middle of a mountain. But I know if they ever escaped…. I try not to think about that.

Ozander: What about now?

Winter: ?

Ozander: Are you still working for the villains.

Winter: No. Remember when I had that accident? I told you I got hurt at work, not necessarily a lie but not the full truth either. On my last mission, I was out creating a massive storm, Odd Squad attacked. I got away mostly, a piece of debris had hit me. I had to get it removed and on my x-ray they found my hip impingements. One thing led to another and another and another and when I was getting fitted for crutches I realized I couldn’t do this anymore, not that they’d have let me.

I also realized that if I was going to quit, I needed to make a clean break. So I erased my information from the seamstress’s books. Sold our place, bought a new one, changed my name, transitioned and put all of my villain stuff into a box and hid it in a wall. I became someone unrecognizable to those who knew me before, who at most could say I looked familiar.

And that’s it, you know the full story now.

Ozander: That’s It?!!! That’s all you have to say for everything you’ve done?! *is standing up, yelling*

Winter: yeah. I don’t regret it, creating those storms gave us everything. I do regret all of the innocent people who got hurt as a result though.

-Miss O is knocking at the door, they’re forty minutes over the interrogation time allotment-

Ophia: Get rid of them.

Winter: What?

Ophia: If you created all of the pienados and spaghetti storms and weird weather in the world, then fix it, get rid of them.

Winter: I can’t.

Ophia: *visibly angry* why not.

Winter: I can’t create, nor destroy weather, that’s not how it works. I just channeled it, using my paintbrush to redirect it into what I wanted. I can’t get rid of them because the elements already mixxed, creating their own unique product that cannot be undone. Like mixing blue and yellow, you get a new color that cannot be separated back into just yellow and just blue. Even if I had my paintbrush with me.

- I’m not sure how I would continue that scene, but I do know that things would ramp up quickly since Cloudweaver isn’t part of the Villain union and not entitled to the benefits. I remember contemplating having them end up in a psych ward for a bit, but I wasn’t comfortable with the route that ended up on. I also considered a two time villain battle, starting with a confrontation against the Dad who’s inspired by Frantocio from Billie bust up then a follow up against the Mom who’s mood swings would play a large part in her power(s). The long term effects of that abuse on full display for Ozander and Ophia to view. The Villains and Odd squad team up to defeat them, with Winter having to pull out the paintbrush one last time to defeat them. And then that’s the end.

I made a playlist of songs that inspired it, here’s the link:

And since I’m posting this final ish part on Christmas, merry Christmas everyone.

So, if I told you all about some odd squad OC’s would you be interested? Keep in mind, I made these as a young child long before Otto and Olive got their own headquarters

[helpmyinterestsareverywhere]

Didn't have "crying over The Sarah Jane Adventures" on my 2024 bingo card but here we are

[faaun]

it's just not going to work it feels bad but it has to happen but breakups that happen when nothing in particular has gone wrong and it's just an issue of like...paths in life/compatibility etc etc, where otherwise you actually rly do love the person, are so hard !! like i care for u i still want to be ur friend it just wont work in a romantic way !!

[rivilu]

I want an origins remake/remaster so bad it's not even funny

[theworldvsyoshiko]

In the aftermath of the raid of people trying to kill Manny, I discover that one of the enemies had a Doomsday Rocket Launcher and thankfully didn't get to use it.

The colony wealth is like $160k right now. What the fuck Perry.

[lostalioth]

𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫

→ premise: sometimes logan’s age showed more than it normally would and so just once you called him an old man, affectionally of course. Well he was determined to show you he wasn’t one.

→ pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, nicknames [baby, sweet girl, princess], daddy kink, both reader and logan use old man as a nickname, oral [f receiving], unprotected sex, established relationship, slight overstimulation.

→ a/n: the pictures/moodborad above are purely for vibes :) you can imagine any logan pretty much for this fic i think. this is mt first time writing logan so sorry if hes out of character and sorry for any mistakes this was written and proof read at 1am.

Logan wasn’t the type of man to be insecure about his age, his body and face didn’t necessarily show it like how it did on others obviously. He was well aware he was way older than you, he was much older than most people. His age showed more with his taste in music and movies, even in some of the outdated slang he frequently used.

You were currently laid up in your shared bed with Logan. You loved being curled up in his lap, your head resting on his chest cuddled up against him. A cigar nestled between Logan's lips, him periodically puffing out smoke. One of his arms lazily resting over your body holding you against him. An older movie was playing on the tv in the background, the volume was high enough for you to hear it, however you could hardly pay attention. Your mind was too lost in how domestic and old timey it all was, the feeling making your heart flutter.

“You know this was my favorite movie, well one of 'em used to watch it all the time” Logan's gruff voice breaks you from your train of thought.

You look up at your boyfriend and smile softly, his gaze fixated on the black and white images flashing across the screen. You chuckle softly and reach up towards his neck to thread your fingers through the hair at the base of his skull. An action that Logan has come to love and even crave on the days when life gets just a little too much.

“You're such an old man” your voice breaks his focus , it was teasing and full of affection as you said it. Logan could clearly hear it, and your statement was correct and didn't bother him, however he couldn't help the little plan forming in his head to mess with you. Shaking your head lightly you turn your attention back on the television.

“Ya’ wanna say that again sweet girl?” He leans his head down, all his attention now glued to you. His words came out almost mockingly instantly making your gaze snap back up to him. He grabs ahold of your chin so that your focus and your eyes stay on him. You knew that teasing tone of voice like the back of your hand by now and what it meant. It made the flutter in your heart drop to your stomach, his arm that was wrapped around your body tightens. You can feel him starting to grow harder against your thigh, making you squirm a bit in his grasp. You swallow hard, your voice suddenly caught in your throat. Logan watches as your pupils dilate and that sweet smell that he's become addicted to fills his nose, giving away your own growing arousal.

“Cause i'm thinkin’ you just called me old princess” He cocks his head to the side in a teasing manner, his lips breaking out in a smirk. Still not being able to find your words you shake your head ‘no’ causing him to chuckle deeply. “No? cause i think ya’ did baby, yeah i think you called me an old man” His words come out in almost a growl as he leans forward, pushing you down on your back. His body now perfectly nestled between your legs as he hovers over you, pinning you down with his weight. His large rough hands holding onto your hips, one slowly drifting and pushing up the t-shirt you had on. A t-shirt that looked an awful lot like the one he's been looking for all week.

“Maybe i did.. but you are an actual old man Logan, you’re much older than me baby” Finally finding your voice you attempt to explain yourself, though you knew he wasn't actually upset by your comment. His strained cock pressed against your clothed cunt being more than an indication of that. Your damp panties and his jeans doing nothing to stop him from feeling the way your pussy was throbbing already from his teasing.

“Yea? Well ima show you just what this old man can do huh” He questioned, barely giving you a moment to answer. Wasting no time he has your shirt pushed up revealing your bare tits and his other hand pulling your panties down your legs. Sliding down your body and the bed he slowly kisses down your exposed chest and stomach until his head has made it between your spread thighs. “Logan..” you whine softly, your eyes glued to his every move as you grow more impatient. A rush of cold air hits your lower half when he finally rids you of your soaked underwear.

That damn smirk not wavering from his face as he grabs ahold of your thighs and nearly growls when his tongue finally laps at your pussy. “Fuck i dont think i’ll ever get over just how fuckin’ good you taste baby” his words come out a bit mumbled as his face is buried between your folds. “Lo..” you whine in embarrassment at his statement. Your slick had coated his face in seconds, though it was clear he could care less, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. Even biting the nub softly causing your hips to buck up against his face, his scruffy facial hair rubbing your inner thighs. He groans against you and grips your legs tighter pulling you closer to his mouth.

“Daddy…fuck!” You gasp softly and moan at the sensation and tighten your thighs around his head, Logan's favorite thing was to feel your plush thighs squeeze his head. His adamantium skull being able to take the pressure. You can feel him smile against you at both the name and the action. “Atta girl, princess. Such a good girl for ya’ old man” he praises, his deep voice vibrating through your body.

Letting your clit go Logan pulls away for a moment, dropping his grip on one of your thighs as well to bring his hand and spread apart your lips. Leaning his head back a bit he spits on your pussy, his saliva sliding down to your throbbing hole. “Fuck she always looks so pretty sweet girl” he hums in approaval and admiration at your pussy. His eyes finally lift back up to your face, he takes note of your already blissed out look. “No cuming til I tell you baby, ya’ got it?” He questions, a small smile on his face that was covered in you.

“Yes daddy” you whine, your voice coming out a bit soft as you were taking the time he was giving you to catch your breath.

With a small smack to the side of your ass he dives his head back down, sticking his tongue out flat and licking a strip up the center of your cunt. Growling and burying his face between your legs again he laps and sucks at your clit and folds. Your hips having a mind of their own buck up against his mouth, nearly riding his face. His hips rutting up against the bed of their own accord as well, his precum now leaking through his boxers a bit. His cock straining against his jeans as wonton moans and whimpers leave your lips. Your eyes screwing shut in pleasure as his tongue every now and then pushes inside you and his nose nudges your swollen nub.

You could feel your climax quickly approaching, pushing your fingers through Logan's signature tufts of hair and pulling his face closer. “Fuck- Lo…Daddy please” you moan out pleading with your boyfriend to let you cum. He squeezed your thigh and groaned roughly against you, you knew that was his way of saying ‘not yet’. You whine and tug harder on his hair causing him to let out a small muffled moan. He pulls his face away a bit and with his hand that wasn't squeezing your leg he slips two fingers through your lips, collecting his spit and your slick together. Continuing his attack on your nearly now oversensitive clit he slides his thick soaked fingers inside you stretching you slowly. The rough pads of them instantly finding that spot deep inside you.

“Daddy I don't- uh shit! I don't know how much longer I can hold on, please Logannn!” You moan and whine out his name as your hips thrust back against his skilled fingers and rut against his face. Your high teetering on the edge as you try your hardest to hold it back. “Cum baby, cum on daddy's face princess” he commands and in an instant your body responds and allows your climax to hit you head on.

A string of curses leave Logan's lips as he laps at your cum as it leaks out of you, broken whines and small moans leave yours as he draws out your climax a bit longer. Finally emerging from between your legs, his lips swollen and pink, the whole lower half of his face covered in yours and his combined mess. Heat floods your face a bit at the sight, though your boyfriends still got that smirk glued to his pretty face. The dynamic of you being nearly entirely naked and him still entirely clothed caused an ache to settle back in your core as if Logan hadn’t just made you cum.

He makes his way bad up your body, quickly pulling off his shirt as well as finally pulling yours up and over your head, definitely leaving you entirely naked now. Leaning down, pressing his crotch right up against yours, his clothed bulging cock nudging open your wet and sticky folds. His lips hover over yours as his hand slides up your side, the other brushing over your breast before it’s wrapped around your neck and pinning you back against the bed. He squeezes your neck softly making you let out a whimper.

“You were saying baby?” His voice comes out deep and a bit hoarse as he questions your previous comment again. “Not callin’ me an old man now are ya’ sweet girl, noo cause you cant even talk” he mocks, a small smile on his face as he rocks his hips up against your pussy, the rough material of his jeans stimulating your abused bundle of nerves setting it off again. Your slick creates a wet spot on his jeans the more he grinds his dick against you.

“Won’t do it again i swear daddy, you're not an old man” you whimper softly as your hands grab at his arms and hands, your fingers rubbing at his knuckles where his claws rip through the skin. When his fly zipper brushes your clit you let out a short moan and move to grab at the waist of his jeans tugging, trying to get him to take them off. Tears lightly coat your eyelashes as you bat them at Logan. He scoffs softly and shakes his head at you as he lets go of your neck to undo his belt and the buttons to his jeans, pulling off his belt and jeans. You watch with a sparkle of excitement in your eyes, your chest heaving in impatience, hands wandering his body and rubbing over his muscly arms and board chest. He tugs his boxers down his thighs as he grabs your legs, wrapping your thighs around his waist. His tip leaking precum is redden and twitching as he rubs it through your lips before pushing at your hole.

“Come on princess, apologize for it” he goes painfully slow as he pushes inside you. “Apologize nicely for calling daddy an old man” he grins and brings his hand up to your boob, brushing his rough thumb over your nipple. You gasp softly and whine, wiggling your hips both in protest and to try and get him inside you faster.

Realizing he won't keep going further til you apologize, you give in. Pulling him down and closer, you wrap your arms around his neck and look into his eyes. “I'm really sorry for calling you an old man Lo, i didn't mean it i promise. You're not an old man daddy” you whine and brush your lips softly against his. “Oh fuck, you’re so sweet on me baby i love it” he growls and thrusts inside you hard as his lips crash against yours. You moan out loudly the sound muffled in Logan's mouth as his hips snap against yours. His cock thrusting deep inside you, hitting that spongy spot making your brain go foggy. Kissing you hard and passionately as his hands roam your body not being able to stop himself from touching you everywhere, you're all his anyway.

“My sweet, sweet princess, takin’ it so good from your old man huh?” He groans and presses his forehead against yours as your hips bounce off his. All you can do is frantically nod and mumble and whine about how good he feels and say yes daddy. Your nails digging into his back and running through his hair.

Logan may be an old man but he was your old man and he definitely didnt fuck like one. He knew how to keep up with his sweet little young girlfriend.

→ a/n: hope you enjoyed my loves, PLEASE SEND ME LOGAN REQUESTS< MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND IM CURRENTLY OBESSED WITH THIS MAN

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Recount Your Kids, Batman

[A loose continuation to this post]

Talia doesn't visit the Wayne manor. At least not regularly nor officially. All the batkids and Batman know she comes sometimes, just to check up on Damian and maybe bother Bruce from time to time, but this is the first time she has ever shown up to a dinner.

And, as they all take their seats, she gives Damian a long curios glance. Then, she looks to Bruce.

"Is that everyone?" She asks, easy and lighthearted. One might think she is simply not acquainted with the number of Wayne children or that she is teasing Bruce on the sheer amount of them. But Damian is looking down to his plate, and Tim knows for sure Talia keeps up with Wayne's head count, and Dick is fairly certain Talia would never tease Bruce, at least not so subtly.

It could have been some sort of a hint at Jason. If he was not here, that is. But he is, for once, so this is really all the family at one table.

"Yes?" Dick tries, looking around the table just to make sure. Steph and Babs are not here today, but that's definitely not what Talia could have meant. Bruce also looks just a little confused, which is a nice change of pace since he looked guarded and on edge from the very moment Talia showed up.

The woman hums, her eyes studying Damian. The youngest bat keeps his gaze down on his empty plate. No one really understands what's going on, but they all feel like there's something important and heavy hanging in the air.

Then, Talia stands up and turns to Alfred, "We will be dining later. It has come to my attention that kids are a lot more secretive than I thought," she explains cryptically and smiles at Bruce, "Beloved, will you come with me to the training grounds? I have something to show you."

Bruce doesn't move for a long moment, and Talia's smile becomes almost gentle, "It's about your son."

At least that makes the man move.

When they get down to the Cave - since Talia insisted this was not a matter that could be resolved in the manor's training room - it's not only her, Bruce, and the little bat there, of course. The whole family was way too intrigued, and some were even alarmed.

The most alarming part, though, was the fact that Damian had been uncharacteristically quiet on their way down. Yet, when Dick looked to Cass, she just shook her head slightly. The boy was not worried. To Cass, he looked almost resigned, if a bit displeased.

"Your sword, Damian," Talia commands, and the boy presses his lips into a thin line.

"This is not necessary, Mother."

"It is," the woman looks amused, but there's an underlying layer of concern to her tone.

"...Yes, Mother," Damian nods his head on what feels like surrender and takes his katana. Not the training one, the real blade. Bruce makes a soft, alarmed grunt, but Talia waves him off.

"Not to worry, Beloved. I will not harm our brethren."

She doesn't take a stance, nor does she pick out a weapon, simply lunges for Damian as soon as they are both on the mats. Two daggers seem to appear in her hands out of nothing, and, contrary to her words, her aim is towards Damian's neck. The boy blocks, jumps away, and blocks another attack.

Tim steps closer, "You can't just-"

"Step away, Drake," It's the first time Damian has spoken to them since they've sat down for dinner. His voice is tense, but not derisive. If anything, it sounds a bit tired.

Talia lunges for him again, faster, meaner. Metal clings against metal.

"You understand this can not keep going, my child," she tells the boy, startlingly gentle on the contrary to her definitely dangerous strikes.

Damian doesn't answer.

The rest of Batfam are forced to simply watch the encounter: Damian is mostly on defense as Talia goes for him, harder and harder with every hit. Until, without any warning, the woman strikes for Damian's arm, making him drop his katana, and-

A few things happen at once.

Talia lunges for Damian's throat. Bruce jumps onto the mats so fast that he almost trips. Tim yelps.

But Talia's blade doesn't strike.

A figure of another child, eerily similar to Damian and wearing the League of Assassins uniform, is standing in front of the littlest bat, two crystal clear blades in his hands, blocking the dagger.

Bruce halts midstep. The rest of the family holds their breath.

But Talia simply smiles and drops her daggers, backing away and looking at the boy between her and Damian with a fond gaze.

"Danyal," she greets, and the boy huffs, lowering his weapons. He doesn't drop them - they simply dissipate in the air, turning into tiny snowflakes.

"Mother," he greets back begrudgingly, and his voice is the exact replica of Damian's. A clone? No, because Damian reacts to him nothing like he had to the clones, simply clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes.

"You could have simply asked, Mother," he comments, taking a step forward and stading near the other boy. Danyal. When standing side by side, they look nearly identical - same facial features, same posture, same hair, even if Damian's is a little more tame.

But Danyal's eyes are just a few hues off. Still green but lighter than Damian's.

"I assumed if you have spent years living here and never bothered to mention your brother, I would need a little more than asking, my love," Talia doesn't laugh, but it sounds like she wants to. Both boys roll their eyes, perfectly in sync.

Hold the fuck up, brother?

"Huh. I thought you died," Jason mentions offhandedly, and the whole family whips their heads to him. Yet, before any of them speak, it's Danyal who answers.

"I mean, I did? Kinda?" He waves his hand in the air and shrugs, and he acts so unlike Damian while also simultaneously having his face, that it makes Tim shiver a little.

"You-" Bruce starts, seeming to finally find his voice, but the boy cuts him off.

"I'm not actually yours," he snorts at Bruce's facial expression, "Yeah, I know I look like I am. Blame the ghost sewers, Chronos, and my stupid ass for making decisions while not being fully awake."

There is so much to unpack in that sentence that no one has the barest of ideas on where to start.

Damian curves his lips down in a sneer.

"The longer you stay there staring, the colder the dinner will be when we return," he reminds them, and Danyal suddenly perks up.

"Dinner? Can I join? It's been ages since I've had anything home cooked," he smiles, like there's some kind of an inside joke in that sentence. Damian rolls his eyes.

"The food doesn't come alive in this household, Danyal."

"Bummer," the boy looks a bit disappointed, but not too much. "And it's Danny, for the thousandth time."

Talia picks up her daggers, hiding them somewhere in her clothes in an unnoticeable motion. Then, she gives Bruce a small, if a bit sly, smile.

"You can not call it 'family dinner' if not all your family is there."

[obsesssedblerd]

"Who's your new teacher?"

Synopsis: Toji meets Megumi's new preschool teacher and immediately develops a crush.

Pairings: single dad! toji x f! reader

Wc: 2.3K

Contains: plenty of fluff, crack, a tiny bit of angst, megumi is four, tsumiki is seven, toji is still toji (but like he's soft for his kids and he takes care of them), reader is a preschool teacher, reader and toji are around the same age, toji being soft, mentions of shiu, shiu and toji work together, shiu being an idiot (lol sorry he'll get love in another fic) , everyone is happy bc I said so

a/n: omg, first fic, we made it! barely proofread, sorry for mistakes. also, tysm for 1,000 followers here! the other two fics that were on that poll will be coming soon!

update: pt 2 here

-------------

Toji’s Fushiguro’s muscles ache. The job he took was harder than he anticipated, and it took way longer than it was supposed to. After confirming that the payment from the job is in his account, he calls Shiu Kong so he could check in on the kids. “About damn time,” Shiu scoffs when the line connects. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t hear from you until sunrise.” 

“Job’s done,” Toji says as he gets into his car, settling into the drivers’ seat with an exhausted sigh. “I hear the TV in the background. Better be cartoons or something age-appropriate.” 

Shiu laughs. “Of course, what else? ‘M not getting cussed out by you. Anyway, you comin’ back with Megumi? Can’t believe you took him on the job with you. Once you’re back, I can get out of here.” 

Toji’s heart nearly stops. He sits up in his seat, gripping the phone so hard that the screen nearly cracks from his strength. “The fuck did you just say?” 

“Huh?” 

“Megumi isn’t with you?!” Toji’s voice booms in the car. On the other line, he hears Shiu gulp. “I… I thought he was with you.” 

“You idiot! I asked you to pick him up from preschool around the same time you pick up Tsumiki from her school because I knew this would take a while!” 

“You did?!” Shiu asks, and then it goes quiet; him more than likely flipping through his messages to double check. “...Shit,” he breathes out. 

Toji inhales sharply, then exhales shakily in an attempt to calm the rage, and even the fear that pools in his gut. “If anything has happened to my fucking son, Kong, I will murder you and make your death look like an accident. Keep an eye on Tsumiki.” 

“Fushiguro, I swear, I-” Toji hangs up before Shiu can explain himself further, then he starts the car. 

He grips the steering wheel hard, and his breathing picks up as his mind spins with every horrific scenario possible. The preschool closes at six thirty. It was close to nine. He didn’t see any missed calls from them. On a normal day, he’d be done before work with plenty of time to pick up his four year-old son, but today’s job was far more difficult and required more time. 

The car speeds down the street leading to his destination. He’s half-expecting to see Megumi sitting outside with his backpack, clinging to his dog plushie and crying. Or worse, he’s not there at all; because this world is full of terrible people, and they won’t hesitate to steal a small, unsupervised boy. His heart aches at the thought, and he shoves it away before he feels the need to throw up. He’ll be okay, he thinks to himself. Everything is going to be fine. 

—

When Toji arrives at the preschool, he rushedly parks lopsidedly in the lot, then exits the car. His eyes scan the steps leading up to the front, and when he doesn’t see Megumi outside, he rushes to the door. 

He sees a security guard in a booth, and before Toji can even ask any questions, the guard gives him a small smile and nod, pressing a button that unlocks the door to the preschool with a click. Toji’s shoulders slump in relief. They were expecting him. That meant Megumi is still here and safe. 

Toji nods back at the guard in thanks, and rushes down the dimly-lit hallway. He sees a light coming from a classroom that still has its door open, and he slows his steps when he hears a child giggling. His child. 

Then it’s followed up by a beautiful, melodic laugh that makes him stop in his tracks. It’s a lovely sound; one that his heart skips to, and one that gently rings in his ears even plenty of seconds after it stops. 

Toji peeks into the classroom to see Megumi comfortably resting in a pillow fort, and you, kneeling beside a lamp and using your hands to make shadow puppets on the wall to entertain him. “Alright,” you say softly as you rearrange your hands and fingers. “What’s this one?” 

You smile as you watch Megumi hum thoughtfully, and Toji is transfixed by you. Who are you? Where did you come from? Since when did Megumi get a new teacher? Why is your smile so bright and so beautiful that the sun would envy? Why is his heart beating wildly in his chest at the sight of you? Fuck, why is he staring? 

“Ooh!” Megumi gasps as he figures out the animal you made with your hands. “Rabbit!” 

“Correct, great job!” You reach forward and give him a high-five. “I think you’ll really like this next one,” you say, and Megumi giggles again as he sits up, completely focused and ready to guess. “Ready?” You ask, and the boy nods. 

Toji crosses his arms, quietly leans against the door of the classroom, and watches, unaware of the soft smile that creeps onto his face. When you put your hands in front of the light, and the shape of the animal displays in front of Megumi, he squeals excitedly and stands up. “Doggy!” He shouts with a wide grin and pulls up his favorite dog plushie that he takes with him everywhere, imitating the sounds a dog would make. You break out into laughter, and Toji nearly stops breathing so he can fully take in the sound of it again.

Beautiful, he thinks. You’re so fucking beautiful. 

Megumi’s eyes flicker towards the door, and he gasps before running as fast as he can towards Toji. “Papa!” 

“Hey, Megs.” Toji kneels down, hugs the small boy against his chest before picking him up in his strong arms, sighing in relief as he runs a hand through his dark hair. He’s okay, and he doesn’t look too upset that he was here for this long. “I’m so sorry I’m late. Are you alright?” 

“Yeah!” Megumi pulls away, then gestures towards you, who watched the tender reunion with a sweet smile. “Ms. [Y/L/N] played so many fun games with me!” 

“Aw, I’m so happy you had fun, Megumi.” You take a step closer so you’re standing in front of Toji, slightly lifting your head upward to meet his eyes due to his height. “We tried calling you, but your phone went straight to voicemail. Megumi said that it does that sometimes. He took a nap earlier, but I’m sure he’ll be sleepy soon after all of those games. I also gave him dinner earlier.” 

“That’s… I just-” Toji struggles to find words, especially when you slightly tilt your head to the side and blink slowly. He exhales, then snaps himself out of his daze. “Thank you so much,” he says. “Are you new? I swear, I’m not usually this late.” Great. Megumi’s pretty teacher might think I’m just the worst parent on this damn planet. 

You nod. “Yes, I’m new. Today was my first day with this angel,” You use a finger to gently boop Megumi’s nose, and he smiles, shyly burying his face into Toji’s shoulder, “and the other kids. I figured you might’ve been held up at work or something. It’s okay. Things happen. Besides, he’s such a well-behaved kid. I didn’t mind spending this much time with him.” 

Toji places Megumi on the ground, then gently taps his shoulder. “Let’s grab your stuff, okay?” As he helps Megumi pack his backpack, Toji bites back a smile when he sees you watching him out of the corner of his eye. He notes the way you fiddle with your hands and avert your gaze after catching yourself. 

You walk over to your desk and open a drawer, pulling out three suckers from a sealed jar. Once Megumi had all of his things packed, you kneel before him, handing him the suckers one by one. “Here you go. One for you, one for your sister, and one for your dad. I can tell he works really, really hard.” 

Toji doesn’t hide his smile this time; it was impossible, especially when Megumi accepts them excitedly. “Candy! Thank you!” He hugs you gently, and you return it, rubbing your hand up and down his back. “You’re so welcome. Thanks for being so sweet today. You made my first day so fun.” 

A muffled gasp coming from outside has the three of you looking towards the window. Toji sees Tsumiki’s face squished against the glass with her usual, excited smile, and Shiu Kong standing beside her, looking relieved when he sees Megumi safe and sound. He purposely avoids Toji’s glare. 

The sound of Megumi’s small yawn gets his attention, and Toji’s gaze softens when the boy rubs his tired eyes. “Aw, ‘m sorry. It’s past your bedtime. Let’s get you home.” He leans down to pick him up again, and once you have your belongings, the two of you leave the building together. 

When you three make it outside, you face Toji and Megumi. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Megumi,” you say quietly to him, who is slowly beginning to drift off. Then you look up at Toji, who is softly smiling at you. “And I’ll see you tomorrow, too, right?” You ask.

“Yeah, you will.” 

You wave goodbye, and Toji makes sure you get into your car safely. “Hey, Megs,” Toji gently shakes Megumi as he watches you drive out of the parking lot. “Do you know her name?” 

“Ms. [Y/L/N]” 

He chuckles. “No, kid, her first name.” 

“I dunno,” Megumi mumbles before closing his eyes and resting his cheek on Toji’s shoulder. “Sleepy, papa.” 

“Ah, there they are!” Shiu exclaims, and Toji would’ve thrown a punch if his son wasn’t in his arms, and if his seven year-old daughter wasn’t happily skipping towards him. “Hi, papa!” 

“Hi, sweets, how was school today?” 

“Good,” Tsumiki says, then grins mischievously as she points to the spot where your car was just a minute ago. “You like her!” She teases. “You wanna hug her and kiss her and give her chocolates!” 

“Alright, you.” Toji rolls his eyes and laughs softly as he uses his free arm to lift up a giggly Tsumiki, then presses a kiss to her forehead. “Both of you should be in bed. Let’s get home.” 

“Aw, okay.” Tsumiki then leans forward to gently kiss her sleeping baby brother’s cheek. “Night, Gumi.” 

Toji secures both Tsumiki and Megumi in his car, and then faces Shiu, who is smiling nervously. “Well, look at that. Megumi’s doing great and you even developed a crush. How cute. All’s well that ends well.” 

“Very cute, but guess what?” 

“What?” 

Toji finally throws a swift punch at Shiu’s jaw, greatly holding back his strength so it wouldn’t break. Shiu stumbles, then groans, cupping his face with his hands. “Okay, fine, I deserved that.” 

“Damn right,” Toji says as he opens the door to the driver’s seat. “See you later.” 

—

Toji almost never stresses about his appearance in the mornings. After all, it was just dropping off the kids. But this morning, he frets over which shirt would look better with the jeans he picked out, if he should wear a different type of cologne, or if he should slick his hair back. 

All because he’s seeing you again. 

He decides to skip the new cologne and go for his usual, simple one, dresses in a dark shirt to match the jeans, and also ditches the idea of slicking his hair. Once the kids are ready for the day, he leaves early and goes to a coffee shop to pick up a medium cup of coffee. First, he drops Tsumiki off at school, then he takes Megumi to preschool. 

Toji spots you almost immediately. You were out in the front amongst the other preschool teachers, parents and their kids, wearing a gorgeous yellow top and simple blue jeans. When you see Toji and Megumi approaching, you pause your conversation with your coworker and walk over to them. Toji decides that he likes that, and that he loves the way you kneel in front of Megumi to meet his eye level, telling him good morning and asking if he was excited for the day. 

You raise to your feet, Toji hands you the cup of coffee he purchased earlier. “For you,” he says, “As a thank you for everything yesterday.” 

“Aw.” Your eyes light up as you accept the cup. “Mr. Fushiguro, this—” 

“Toji,” he corrects softly, and he ignores the way his heart stutters when your smile grows. 

“Well, Toji, this is lovely. Thank you so much.” 

“I never caught your name last night.” 

You tell him your name, and Toji tests it once. From the way you shyly avert your gaze, he can tell you that like the way it sounds in his voice. Megumi clears his throat, and Toji looks down to see him staring up at him, his brow raised in suspicion. “You never stay this long. Don’t you have to go to work?” 

Damn, kid. Thought we were on the same team. 

You laugh as Toji rolls his eyes and sticks his tongue out at Megumi—a gesture that the four year-old returns immediately. “Well, he’s right, gotta get going,” Toji says, looking back up at you. “I’ll see you later?” 

“Yes.” You nod, then point to the warm cup in your hands. “Thanks again for the coffee. Have a great day at work.” 

“You too.” Toji then gently ruffles Megumi’s hair. “Be good.” 

He doesn’t realize how big he’s smiling until he’s back in the car, and he sighs as he remembers Shiu’s words from the night before. A crush. That word seems so silly. He’s not a teen in high school. Toji looks up just in time to watch you take Megumi’s hand and lead him inside the building with the other children, and he chuckles to himself as he starts the car up.

Maybe “silly” was okay when you’re this pretty.