#a waste of an hour but god is it funny

[vampistol]

God made a mistake giving me the power of editing

Og thumbnail LOL

[pinkfey]

my pos br*ther woke me up at 6AM bc he’s playing video games so fucking loudly and our walls are made of paper and no matter how much i tell him i need to sleep he doesn’t hear me through his headset 😐😐😐 i am just sitting here fml

[nouearth]

a sticky situation.

peter parker x male reader.

summary: peter has a major crush on his roommate: you. everything unravels when he walks in on you changing.

wc: 4.1k. genre: smut. warnings: holland!peter, sub!top peter, voyeur!peter, college!au, dry-humping, grinding, frotting, handjobs, kissing, peter's first time, dubcon, cumplay, peter and reader are shooters, characters are aged up!

a bite of the cold air shuddered your damp and nude body once you stepped out of the bathroom, cataloguing the tidiness of your shared bedroom after. your shoulders tensed when the heated air and cold draft clashed for an estate of your body. but by the way your muscles eased into the green towel around your waist, you’ve figured which side won the war. a warm cheer to victory buzzed in your head.

god, did i luck out with peter… 

you found yourself repeating that observation often these days. it’s only been two months into the semester, but you’ve already concluded that peter was leagues better than your previous roommate. though, the bar was low—he was kind of a homophobe. that guy was a walking proof of evidence that opposites, in fact, do not attract.

on the other hand, peter had proven that similar interests and personalities were the foundation of beautiful, growing relationships: both platonically and romantically. still, relationships were never that black and white—a grey area. a theory that will forever be tested on, only for the outcome to come out vaguer than before, you’ve realized.

peter was like you: friendly, smart, awkward at times, funny to some. you and him basically have the same qualities of a dog, but there was more to it. 

you both shared the same liking down to the genre of video games, the magic of fantasy novels, the cleanliness of a room, the color-coded organization of study notes, and more. 

from there, the similar line of characteristics began to blur. whereas you’d prefer to learn from experience, peter liked playing by the book—sticking to it if he could. peter liked red, you liked blue. he favored savory snacks, you devoured them, but preferred sweet drinks.

opposites attract—the theory was once again, broad in your honor.

difference and similarities aside, you were lucky to have peter in your life. the bedroom was colder before you went to shower, but now it blossomed with a gentle heat.

he knew you hated the cold after a warm shower.

taking the other towel, you dried off the rest of your body while you checked your phone for notifications: a missed call from a friend and a few emails regarding construction around the building you had your classes in.

seriously? still? it’s been almost a year already…

normally, you wouldn’t have walked into the bedroom like this, baring skin and all. but peter went to get food because you both have become familiarized with what they served as food at parties.

note to self: you cannot get full off alcoholic beverages. you and peter both tried two parties ago, and it ended with you two sharing the toilet bowl, detoxing your insides of that liquid poison the entire night. the only enjoyment that resulted from that night was learning that peter was a drunk-crier, and you, a drunk-dancer. your friendship had only leveled up since.

you slid on your white briefs once you dried off before shuffling to the other side of the room, browsing through your shared closet aimlessly: he took the left side, you took the right. it was always dim at those parties, so a nice outfit would be wasted. also, you somehow became a magnet for other people’s misfortunes. it took hours to get rid of the smell of this one girl’s vomit—you threw it out in the end. 

“no, no… it’s going to be cold later…” you cycled through your clothes again, sighing when nothing caught your eye. “guess i can wear this aga-“

“hey!” out of nowhere, peter’s voice sprung out from the side of the room, followed by a quiet thud, and you twisted your bare body towards the source out of fright.

“jesus, you scared me.” the closet door blocked your view of peter, and vice versa, but you presumed he was leaning against the frame—a habit you noted. “i didn’t even hear you come back.”

“sorry- what was i saying..? oh!” his shadow loomed between you and him, growing as he stepped closer to the closet. “did you want to eat now or-“

judging from the volume of his voice, you should’ve expected how close peter was when you shut the closet. “fuck!” you jumped back, eyes widening when he was practically chest to chest with you. “dude, you really gotta stop doing that.”

on a daily basis, you always looked up at him, but you never paid it much thought to how much taller he was. 

“sorry! guess everyone’s a little antsy with the- oh.” he paused.

“what?” you curiously looked up at him, catching sight of his wandering gaze. you were quick enough to follow it, flickering between glimpses of your bare body and face several times like a tennis ball. somehow, you didn’t puzzle the pieces between his shock and your curiosity until he backed away, skittish in nature.

you were in your underwear. still in your underwear. the barrier was the captor of your embarrassment, heat rosed your cheeks as you stood frozen. and with it, the barrier was also your savior.

 “oh- OH!” the size of your eyes matched his and upon realizing he’s been staring for far too long, peter cowered his gaze to the side, a gentlemanly hand blocking his sight as he further backed to the door frame, then blindly bumped his shoulder into the door. “i’m so sorry-“ 

“no, no! i should’ve knocked. i-“ he groaned out, pacifying the sting to his shoulder with his palm. “that was stupid of me, i’m gonna-“

that was another similarity that you both valued: privacy. 

before you could reply, he scattered off. for a moment, you felt hot in the face, in the neck, even on your chest. but it would only take a few more seconds for your skin to cool, comforted by the fact that you could’ve shown more—you didn’t.

when peter scrambled out of the room, his gaze fixated on the ground, to the stripes of his socks as they shuffled to the kitchen. 

but he never made it very far, because he was easily persuaded. either by his hormones, by the shape of your body, or by his closeted feelings about you. in the end, it didn’t matter because a tightening feeling conjured him back to his original spot—it was always going to be about you. 

he was silent in his footsteps, treading backwards to the bedroom as his throat ran dry—heartbeat equally.

tonight. i should do it tonight. are my feelings that obvious? god, i hope not. wait, no- they are! they gotta be… who the fuck wipes marshmallow off of your roommate’s lips and calls them cute?!

peter does.

as his thoughts ran rampant, clouded his regularly murky mind, you were in his line of sight, perfectly captured in the middle of his gaze—now stilled—awe-strucked while he watched you change. 

quick portraits of your thick thighs and calves came and went before they were completely masked by the slide of your shorts. then your stomach and chest; pliant, moist skin that layered over the contours of your body before being covered by a tee. he exhaled, then inhaled, smelling the scent of your shampoo and body wash, and he was delighted because you own that scent.

enraptured because only peter could have his senses triggered by you on a daily basis.

if peter could frame this moment, it would be an expensive endeavor that would sacrifice all the money in the world to find the most perfect materials that complemented your textured skin. your smooth body. your handsome face. 

you. that was all he wanted. 

peter had been trapped since the day he saw you unpacking your things into the dorm. sweaty from the sun, and you knew that, because you refused to shake hands with him until you insisted on washing up first. he wished you never did—your thighs looked better sweating under those shorts.

he’s had crushes before. one in middle school, three in high school. but they amounted to nothing, he never had the confidence. rather, he preferred isolating himself and admiring from afar. rejections had already been predicted, and he was used to the feeling of defeat. if someone were to accept his advances one day, then that would lead to a disruption of events—a catastrophic end to humanity—he joked.

you were different to peter. he loved how, for once, he didn’t have to be the one initiating conversation. he also loved how you didn’t use him for answers because instead, you would help him out with his assignments.

oh, is that professor warren’s class? I think i still have the textbook for her class… let me look. 

even when it would only take five minutes to grab a drink down the street, you still invited him. not out of pity like everybody once did, but because he was your friend. parties have never been your thing, but you accompanied them with him because it made him feel better—to know someone.

maybe since he’s grown more mature since then, but now that he was off on his own, it was up to him to predict his future. it was an advice you gave him one night, and he’s kept that close to his heart since then.  not the hate that had inflicted his mind, not his peers telling he wasn’t good enough for someone—but him.  

in his imaginary world, peter could feel the walls shake when he was around you. the buildings would then fall apart, the earth would scorch civilians and planetary life with heat, and the thundering rain would only make it worse. it was a morbid image. yet, if it meant that you truly liked him, then…

aliens, come do your thing. we insist upon an invasion!

peter wanted you. point, blank, period. it wasn’t his preferred way to confess, but intense sentiments of like, love, lust—all at the same time—ate him up on the inside, and he was scared of being devoid of feelings for you.

“i want… you,” peter muttered, and you jolted again, turning back around in case you misheard him. you were bewildered at the sight of him. once again, you didn’t hear his footsteps.

“what?” you shuffled nervously on your feet. the tension in the air was thick and hot now with the way he stared back at you, frightened yet assured.

“i want you.” there was credence in peter’s tone, and he neared to the door now. 

your eyes narrowed into the deep abyss of peter’s eyes as you sat on the foot of your bed, putting on socks. somewhere in your endeavors, you found a flicker of that familiar joke. “ha. ha. very funny,” you muttered bitterly.

it haunted you. as soon as you came out, you were taunted by those same exact words by your ‘friends,’ by your previous roommate. what made you different from them became a simple reason to cease empathy and kindness, and you were baffled that this was happening again.

maybe peter was like the others after all.

you avoided peter’s gaze in favor of the floor, the legs of your desk, your rug—anywhere but him—and you could feel the color drain out of your face, out of this room—deja vu. “look, i know it’s funny to you because i like guys and for whatever reason, straight guys like to flirt with gay men to get a reaction out of us,” 

the rug cushioned the weight of a familiar pair of feet, and you looked up, a great frown etched in your face when your eyes met peter’s. he towered over you, bewildered. “but it makes me uncomfortable. and it’s not funny to-“

he didn’t know what roused him. the pain in your voice made him want to apologize without any resort to excuses. the pout on your lips made him want to cradle your head, yet kiss you at the same time. the growing tent in his pants made him want to pin you to your bed, and simply ravish you.

it was all a blur. 

his impulsive thoughts became a reality once he stole the remaining words left in your distress, and clumsily swallowed them with a kiss. you didn’t have time to process his lips on yours because you were then pushed onto your back, stilted and surprised, as peter applied his weight on top of yours—his broader build shadowed you in welfare.

“pete-“ you groaned into the hot, breathy kiss, and despite the light attempts to push him away, you were compelled to return the wet exchange. breathlessly, you repeated, “stop, this isn’t funny-“ he kissed you again. all this time, you could’ve had him, but you deluded yourself into thinking otherwise. 

“i’m not laughing,” peter muttered, and his hips began moving into yours, aimlessly trying to alleviate the stiffness in his pants. “i want you.” his voice lowered—no longer a confession, but a demand. he rocked into you harder once he felt you throb under those tight short, and you slipped out a moan, memorizing the beat of peter that pulsated against you.

you remembered him being bashful when you two talked about your firsts. you weren’t completely inexperienced like he was, but you mentioned that it’s been a while since you’ve done anything remotely intimate. school was your focus, a relationship was your reward.

“peter,” you repeated again, he wasn’t listening. “peter.” he whispered a demand; to keep calling his name, and you couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the cliché line often heard in soft porn.

then, you cupped your hands around his temples to pull him away. he gazed into you with ardent hunger, almost annoyed that you ruined the trail of kisses he began leaving on your neck. “did you drink without me? because if you did, then i don’t think we should-“

“i didn’t,” he sobered on the softness of your lips, and like a flip switch, he snapped out of his fictional world of you. “fuck- i’m so sorry, i didn’t even ask you if you wanted to- fuck, i even forgot to say that i like you.” he ranted to himself, beginning to pull himself away. “this was not how it was supposed to go.”

infatuation had expanded into something beyond your control, and your feelings for him ignited even more. a wick bursted into powerful flames, and it warmed your body knowing that you two shared the same sentiment.

before he completely peeled himself off your body, you pulled him down by the neck, then pressed your nose to his, grinning. “I like you too.” a peck to the tip of his nose, then the center of his lips. your onslaught of fleeting kisses to his skin drowned him, pacifying every muscle in his body until it became jelly, and also making it all the more easier to roll him under you. 

“not exactly how i imagined my first date with you, but,” you straddled his lap, roaming your hands around peter’s chest, an asset of his you’ve frequently daydreamed about. “you sure?”

the applied pressures to your waist, then bottom should’ve been a definite measure of his answer, but he smiled up at you, guiding a steady pace of your hips to his groin. he was easily distracted, suddenly cascading his other palm up your shirt then down to finally feel the bare skin he had spent long showers jerking off to. fantasies had now been served onto a platter before him, and peter planned on devouring you, piece by piece. “please.”

“must have had a lot on your mind if you couldn’t even confess to me.” it was unusual to see him like this—absolutely enthralled by your presence, high off of it. aching for more of you with the way he pushed his groin into you. “how long have you been thinking about this?” being unusual always had negative connotations to it. 

you pressed into him harder, rubbing at his print with gallant grinds. not in this moment. 

he moaned, “far too long…” then fumbled with the waistband of your shorts before doing the same with the zipper. “you’ve been driving me crazy, especially these days.” it was a simple task, a daily labor that peter was great at, but his hands shook when his finger met metal. you chuckled, and placed a comforting hand to his cheek, stroking the soft skin with the amplest caress. 

take your time. i’m not going anywhere.

“mind sharing what you thought about then?” the only time you peel yourself away from peter’s groin was to help him slide your shorts off, then his jeans. peter lifted his hips, and you two were joined together again. aching together. “just curious.” you joked by pulsating your bulge, and he shyly laughed when he saw the restrictive twitch. 

felt it.

“well... where do i start?” peter’s warm hand rested on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your erection while delicately exploring your soft skin. “there’s been so many times where i just wanted to…” he was too ashamed to finish his sentence, looking away.

“wanted to…?” your body arced over his, placing a persuading kiss to his cheek, then neck. “what was it?” they lingered, sunk deep into his skin with the utmost affection, and he left the deepest, pleasurable sighs as if you withdrew it from him. you commenced his dilemma. “tell me what you thought when you first saw me. saw that i was your roommate.”

 “i...” peter began, and you could tell his nerves got the best of him, so you rocked into him again, begged with your hips. the position made it easier to feel all of him, press into his warmth more, and you couldn’t stop. wouldn’t. “i didn’t know what to feel. i was happy, that i had someone as kind as you…” you gleefully hummed, agreeing as you continued leaving kisses to his neck.

“then i was nervous, because you were so… cute. handsome. beautiful.” he moaned when you began to grind in slow, deep strides. your bulges squeezed and pushed one another, peter did the same, growing impossibly bigger against you. “but when i saw you in those shorts, sweating because move-in day was always on a hot day…”

“yeah?” you beckoned him to finish his sentence because you were closing your eyes now, remembering that very moment because you felt the same. the way peter’s chest, his muscles, were broad and stunning under his own layer of sweat, under his loose shirt, under that naivety that you would never have dreamed to think of him as such a…

“i just wanted to fuck you.”

pervert.

the shy smile he gave you messed with your perception of him. clearly, you’ve underestimated him all this time, and you kissed him again. “so, you only thought about pleasuring yourself.”

he quickly broke the kiss to defend himself. “wait, no! t-that’s not what i meant.”

“peter, relax.” your laugh calmly settled into a comforting smile, and you blindly reached down to his thick print, feeling and squeezing at whatever you can because you were desperate to explore him. “i’m joking.” his chest rose.

for the remainder of time, you spent it stroking peter through his underwear. dryly to his frustration, but he never told you because he wanted to experience you in every way. his lips never left yours, only parted to moan into your mouth when you shoved your hand into his briefs to sate your desire to feel him bare.

peter was big in your small hand. the weight felt suffocating to your palm when you grabbed ahold of his sack, fondling his balls, then stroking his cock again, and you were intoxicated in the way he melted under you, looked into you, begged for you to go faster. 

you did. who wouldn’t when he gazed at you with the most puppy-like eyes?

he had complete control of you now, because every action, every stroke, from then on had been a journey to his personal paradise. you didn’t care that you were left abandoned, that you were aching harder than he was. watching him was more than adequate.

both pairs of briefs and shirts have been tossed to the side now, and you maintained your straddle. it was riveting to watch how much bigger peter was when you took both of your cocks together and stroked. he practically enveloped you with the weight of his length, the girth of his shaft, and you wallowed in the fact that he was incredibly bashful about it. 

peter’s hand never left your body. he charmed you by his neediness. it was clumsy in execution, but he always squeezed a moan out of you with he felt your ass, your chest, your nipples, your thighs. “fuck, pete.”

everything about you was beautiful, incredibly more so when you caved into him as he dealt kisses to your bare skin and took his own turn at jerking the both of you off.

he was eager. delirious. hard, stiffening hard, against you, and you felt every vein pulsate the harder— the faster—he squeezed and stroked. you leaned back, hands planted to the mattress beneath you, then maneuvered your hips to the rhythm of his fist. you found a pace while peter kept you steady, and fucked into his fist, against his wet cock, sliming your dripping pre-cum together with the utmost fervor. 

“wait, (m/n),” he hiccuped, and his hold on you tightened, nails dug into your left waist but you ignored his plea, fucking steadily into his fist. “stop, i’m going to-“ they fell on deaf ears, and mouth agape, peter watched you with incredulity. you can feel his body flex, your balls smushed to his when you grinned up, your pre-cum sticking to his, his to yours, like a sick web. “s-stop, oh god.”

and peter unraveled before you with a guttural moan, finishing the rest of his plea with a blasting of thick and creamy ropes to his chest, like a cannon. the force was strong enough to have a few shots land on his face, then his hair, and then somewhere above because peter was a big shooter—a strong one, you’d passionately testify. “f-fuck, i didn’t mean to cum so-“

“holy shit.” you watched peter in all his glory, then in his embarrassment, while stilted on his lap and sweating, not taking notice of the delay of your climax because it crept up on you quick. a rocket broke the cloud in your thoughts with a boom, and you spilled all over him, shooting like fireworks. “shit!”

peter was your canvas, and it was your duty to paint him. debris of sex splattered everywhere, because you somehow found the strength to continue fucking yourself into the cream of fist, unloading and unloading onto him until you were dry, heaving and dripping.  

“fuck- I didn’t mean to ruin your sheets-” he mumbled, a blush stained his cheeks, and you joined in the warmth with a kiss, panting.

“where’s the fun in all of this if you aren’t going to stain at least one thing.” your brows raised at the wet stain on the wall above peter’s head, right below your wall-shelf, and peter’s gazed followed. 

he groaned, distressed by the evident he made. “fuck, sorry…” his bashfulness only endeared you even more. 

“it’s okay,” you hopped off his lap, stretching your arms into the air. “i’ll clean you up.”

“okay,” peter lay still, his hand cautiously held over his stomach to catch the drips of his cum and yours. it was fascinating to watch the mixture flow together, strands of it melding and un-webbing as he played with the sticky residue. it was the scientist in him. “my towel is on the- fuck-“

without a beat, you took his dripping flaccid cock into your mouth, sucking off any remnants of spunk. an unfamiliar taste you weren’t used to, bitter and salty. it wasn’t until you noticed how peter’s eyes glazed over you, half-lidded because he was in heaven now, that you found the taste of him delectable. peter’s caution for staining your bed sheets was disregarded, because he knew you’d clean the rest of him off. 

after you pulled away with a soft pop, he traced your wet lips with the cum on his fingers, then his knuckles, before he pushed one by one into your mouth. one finger at first, then two, then three, you moaned erotically around his digits as peter pumped, marveling in the eagerness of your mouth. he slowly pushed more cum into your mouth. the creamy residue gathered at the corner of your mouth at first but he made sure to scoop it back in, and continued doing so until he was polished clean. 

nothing was wasted. 

the taste of you and him spread in the warmth of your tongue, and you have never felt more intoxicated.

to peter, you have never looked more beautiful.

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. andif you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

[goldfades]

𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "STOP IM SO HAPPY UR MAKING PAIGE X WBB MEDIA MANAGER A SERIES BC I SENT IN THE FIRST REQUEST 😽😽😽 fic with paige and reader being out and a little wasted and getting interviewed by fellow college student about their relationship and working together etc. (could end in smut if u like ;)) // inspo: https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTL9fH1p1/" (love you nonnie thank you for giving me the idea to make this series, ur the best mwahhhh hope you enjoyed)

─ word count | 1k

─ warnings | so much sexual tension its bad, paige being possessive (in a cutesy way!), interviewer being kinda weird/suggestive, mentions of drinking/getting high, some language, nothing else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal @uraesthete @hello-nah817 @wanderlusturous and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

─ ev's notes | okay so this is kinda part of the manager series (if u guys want it to be) or if u have no idea what it is, thats fine!!!! i wanted to make it a standalone cus it felt better to me that way but whichever you'd like to read it, read it!! idk why that specific tiktok is my roman empire, it's just the way she talks and EVERYTHING makes me physically so like..... obsessed i don't even know, like GODDDDD im so attracted to her

YOUR FEET HAD begun to hurt an hour ago and your entire body felt sore, though you didn't feel very tired though.

You were two and half redbull vodkas in and let's just say you were tipsy; you weren't quite drunk yet but you were definitely on the way. As you stumbled slightly through the sidewalks of the UConn campus, your only guide was Paige's hand on your waist. The combination of the alcohol and Paige's presence made everything seem surreal, like you were walking through a really good dream.

You felt giddy, that was the only way you could describe it. You were drunk, sure but mostly off of Paige's lingering touch. You were excited by it, as if every brush of her fingers against your skin sent a jolt of electricity through your body. The night air was crisp, but you hardly noticed as you leaned into her warmth, reveling in the sensation of her warmth.

Paige's laughter bubbled up beside you was infectious, pulling you deeper. You found yourself laughing along, not entirely sure what was so funny but not exactly caring either. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you in a bubble of tipsy euphoria.

You and Paige leaned against the railing, a cup in her hand as she gazed at you while you spoke about god-knows-what, she wasn't really sure anymore. She was zoned out until she felt a tap on her shoulder, to be met with a pair of new eyes.

Her face contorted into confusion as she sat up, glancing at you then back at the stranger. "Are you Paige and Y/N?"

"Yeah, what's up?" She replied quickly as she straightened up, a forced smile on her face.

He returned the smile gratefully, "I'm a big fan, uh... can we interview you two?" The guy spoke quickly as he glanced back at his friend, who was waving awkwardly.

Paige glanced back at you with a smile of her own as she waited for your approval. You nodded slowly as you glanced back at the guys as you surveyed the surroundings. "Just be chill, okay?"

He nodded as his friend pulled out his phone as he took out his phone and began using it as a microphone. He cleared his throat as he smiled, looking at his friend to start recording.

"Who are here with today?" He spoke as he brought it up to Paige's lips, then yours.

"Paige Bueckers,"

"And uh, Y/N L/N. By the way, she's not drinking alcohol," you added with a smile as Paige laughed.

Paige nodded and gestured to her drink. "I'm drinking a shirley temple, no alcohol."

"Yeah, we don't do that around here." The guy added with a laugh as the two of you glanced at each other, holding in your laughter.

Paige grinned, her tone amused as she played. "Y/N's here to keep in check though,"

"So you guys are actually close, like outside all the sports stuff?" He glanced in between you guys, noticing the close proximity between you.

You shared a knowing look with Paige. "Oh yeah, Paige and I are practically inseparable," you replied with a grin, your voice laced with fondness.

Paige nodded as she gazed at you, a smirk playing on her lips. "Yeah, Y/N's my girl, on and off the court."

You couldn't help but feel warm under her unwavering gaze as you laughed and averted your gaze back to the guy who was watching you two closely.

"As in like, best friend?" He clarified as he looked back at the camera with a laugh.

"What else?" Paige replied with amusement and slight agitation as she finally broke her gaze, a small laugh leaving her lips. "Obviously,"

"How is it like working together though, if you guys are really close? If I had to spend all that time with my best friend, not sure I would make it." The interviewer joked as he glanced back at the camera.

Paige furrowed her eyebrows as she laughed. "It's not bad at all, it's really fun. We hang out a lot, we get to go on trips together and share hotel rooms, it's a blessing."

She glanced back at you with a smile as you nodded slowly, feeling yourself draw closer to her. "Yeah, it is a blessing," that was all you could get out as you watched Paige wet her lips and laugh, turning away slightly.

You were pretty sure that the interviewer had caught on to the obvious tension but you didn't care at this point, you were lost in the moment, captivated by Paige. The interviewer's words seemed to fade into the background as you found yourself drawn closer to her, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement.

"Why do you wear Paige's jersey rather than anyone else's?" He asked, his tone laced with amusement as he watched you zone back in.

Paige's eyebrows furrowed as she looked at the guy, clearly getting annoyed by his stupid question. But before she could respond with a less polite answer, you did with a laugh. "I don't only wear her jersey, it was one time and it was because it was her first game back after her injury."

Paige's expression softened as she nodded in agreement, her irritation dissipating. "Yeah, it meant a lot to me to see her wearing my jersey that day."

The interviewer nodded before he glanced back at the camera before to you two again. "Okay, okay. Last question, do you think you could beat me in a 1v1?"

"Absolutely," Paige replied with a laugh as she grabbed your arm and pulled you away, beginning to walk off before the interviewer kept talking.

"Okay bet, whoever wins gets to take Y/N out," he called out, his tone playful as he flashed a smirk toward the camera.

Paige turned around to give him the nastiest glare of all time as she kept walking forward. "I already do that, bro."

You stifled a laugh at Paige's quick retort, her playful possessiveness bringing a warmth to your cheeks. The interviewer's eyes widened in surprise at Paige's response, clearly caught off guard by her boldness as he laughed, turning back to the camera.

You two just walked off as Paige's hand moved down back to your waist as you continued on your way. Despite the slightly heated exchange, you couldn't help but feel a flutter of warmth in your chest at Paige's possessiveness.

──── COMMENTS

cam 🎀 | this has to be their hard launch or something cus DAMN😭 ♡ 792

↳ user893492948493 | ngl i can't even deny it anymore and i was the biggest anti paige and y/n person OUT THERE

↳ lily :p | "my girl" 🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

Jake | is it just me or does paige like girls? ♡ 701

↳ ella :) | ????? yeah????

↳ Jake | this is news to me uhh

lovergirl <3 | okay what about sharin hotel rooms now... ♡ 432

ZM | bro why would u say that 😭😭😭 in front of PAIGE BUECKERS 😭😭 ♡ 1.1k

✌🏼💥💁🏻‍♀️ | am i interrupting something... 😰 ♡ 994

cailey ☀️ | okay who is y/n whats her instagram where does she go who is she is she dating anyone wow shes beautiful ♡ 2k

↳ 💯💯 | everyones collective reaction when they first see y/n

↳ cailey ☀️ | going through a rabbit hole rn brb, she's so pretty what 😭

↳ #1 swiftie 💍 | cailey watch out girl ur on paige's watchlist now....

🤗🤗 | the damn tension in air damn im not even y/n and i feel hot ♡ 118

Thomas W | they are both drunk as hell bro what is up with the laughing 😭 ♡ 1.2k

user83948928932 | bro met y/n l/n and paige bueckers and continued to ask the worst questions of all time ♡ 591

↳ uconn luvr | and paige was good with the comebacks like okayyy baee protect ur girl!!

↳ 💥 bow | they are not dating, can two girls just be friends anymore?

↳ uconn luvr | she literally calls her "my girl" in like the first 2 seconds of the video

Isabelle Reece ✨ | paige was too quick w that reply to just be "best friends" with her 💀 ♡ 903

↳ ur fav aries | bro i know she was smooth with it too like💁🏻‍♀️

y/n's bitch 💙 | idk who i wanna be more y/n or paige ♡ 252

↳ mikey 🤑 | theyre both so hot

↳ 🧚‍♀️ | mike ima have sit you down for this...

↳ taylor! | ohh... thats not...

Chris | shes cooking you respectfully ♡ 1k

i 💙 uconn wbb | if this doesn't prove y/n and paige are together idk what will

♡ 853

────

part 2?? cus i lowk wanna write smut for this now... lmk

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[slvttyplum]

what was supposed to be a fun haunted maze turned into something much more sinister, with your mouth being filled to the brim with cum while your pussy was being stuffed while you moaned around the dick that was in your mouth, the tip of the dick hitting the back of your throat every time. 

you knew it was a bad idea to wander around this maze by yourself, but you wanted to prove a point to your friends that you could get to the end before them because of how it was organized, which you did, but the reward wasn't quite what you imagined. 

two figures stood only a few feet away from you, almost hanging above you, making it much creepier. not too much light illuminated off their faces, but light blue eyes caught your eyes. before you could even put words into your mind and speak, they were already in front of you. 

a laugh sliding past your lips as you clutch your stomach once you got a good look at their faces, of course. 

"thing one and thing two, god, how couldn't i recognize those eyes?" laughing more but quickly stopping when you realize they weren't laughing; instead, suguru pulled and tossed you over his shoulder, slapping your ass, walking into a dark corner with only a slither of light. 

that's when this sticky mess started, stripping you of all your clothes and wasting no time to start using both of your holes, and that's when you realized the creepy attire they had on. 

satoru's face covered in white and messy colorful paint all over his face, mixing in the way a clown would have it. suguru, a funny cliche, had a ghost mask on, but with his long hair, he wasn't hard to recognize. 

as scary as the costumes and atmosphere were, you were still wet, almost slipping out your panties yourself if suguru didn't slide them off first, his mouth latching onto your clit while one of his fingers slid into you. 

satoru putting a hand around your neck and slowly sliding his dick in your warm, wet mouth, a soft moan sliding past his lips as he closes his eyes, emerging himself in the pleasure you were so quick to give.

everything felt so fucking good and oddly comfortable to be outside in a maze, until you realized there were two blankets covering the surface, a smile forming before satoru pushes himself further in your mouth and suguru adds a second finger, curving them as he slides them in and out. 

suffocated moans struggling to erupt from your mouth as they continued, satoru already releasing one load in your mouth and no plan in stopping any time soon; he only got more rough. squeezing his hand around your throat and suguru flicking his tongue against your clit. 

he needed more, adjusting himself and quickly sliding his pants and briefs down, lining himself up to your dripping core and sliding himself in, a moan sliding out. pushing your thighs up as he pushed deeper inside of you. your moans were trying so hard to come out, but satoru was working overtime in your mouth.

gargling on his cum and suguru pushing his load deep inside of you, a long drawn-out moan coming from him, continuing to give you deep strokes. you felt too good for him to stop, satoru feeling the same time. 

both of them stuffing your holes back to back, endless pleasure and ecstasy, your eyes rolling to the top of your head. what felt like hours of this, it finally stopped. laying there for a moment before you felt something warm being rubbed against your aching core. 

looking down and giggling, watching suguru with his pulled-up mask wiping you down, satoru leaning down and giving you a kiss before walking off. 

"we don't forget the freak shit you're into; we just wanted to beat someone to the punch."

[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | part four

you missed the paperwork that said joining the BAU meant having an unstable personal life, and Cat Adams is dedicated to making sure you know nothing is ever private

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: angst content warnings: fear of drowning, couples counseling, spencer's mommy issues, takes place during 15x6 "date night", pregnancy and miscarriage, stillbirth, sexual assault, way too many ellipses, suicide, attempted murder, reader's daddy issues, details from the dirty dozen plotline, mishandled apologies, a lot of yapping, near drowning, disassociation, self harm word count: 9.75k a/n: i hate cat adams so much but god she is so funny in this episode. also cat and spencer shippers are not welcome. why does he look so good in this gif. this is the extent of my coherent thoughts.

“I just made the bed,” you complained halfheartedly, still allowing yourself to be tugged over to the bed despite your protests.

Climbing up on the bed, you tucked yourself into Spencer’s side, so cold after getting out of bed that you wished you could absorb his body heat. “C’mere,” he muttered, placing his hands on either side of your waist and pulling you over him, the two of you meeting face to face. “Hi pretty,” he greeted, craning his head up to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

You smiled slightly against his lips, ducking your head so that your mouths never separated. Mornings away from the bureau were few and far between, so you weren’t interested in wasting a single moment. “Good morning,” you whispered before bringing your lips back to his.

When the phone started to ring, Spencer’s hands fell from your waist in disappointment. He leaned his head back while you rolled off the bed and handed him his phone which he begrudgingly answered, “Hey, what’s up?”

With the phone on speaker, you heard Emily’s voice ring through the phone, “We have a case, it’s urgent,” concern oozed through her tone as you pulled your blazer on over your blouse.

“Alright, we’ll be right in,” he responded for the both of you. Most of the time, they only needed to call one of you.

Emily cleared her throat, “Spencer, there’s something you need to know.”

The thirty-minute drive from the district to Quantico was silent. You decided to drive, not wanting to worry about the metro when there was so much on the line. Barely having put the car in park, Spencer was already flying out of the car and to the elevator.

Several questions rested like a weight on the tip of your tongue and part of you hoped that this was all part of a morbid prank, but you knew when it came to Cat, it was never a joke. Purposefully being the first two people there, you followed Spencer to where Prentiss and Rossi were waiting in the roundtable room, “Catch us up,” he said, walking through the doorway and beginning to study the information on the screen.

“Early this morning Garcia got an email from an anonymous server,” Emily began, looking between the both of you with concern in her eyes.

Dave nodded next to her, “She’s not obscuring her face, telling us she’s got nothing to hide.”

Next to you, Spencer nodded, slipping both of his hands into his pockets, “Any ideas on the victims or UnSub?”

Chewing nervously on the inside of your lip, you looked at the screen carefully. The photo displayed two girls, one of them a teenager, maybe eighteen, and the other couldn’t be much older than ten. You didn’t speak, waiting for the words that you have heard over the phone to be spoken in person.

“No, only the UnSub’s demand that we release Catherine Adams within twenty-four hours. I’m having her transferred here for questioning,” she informed Spencer, “But we have no illusions. This is just a game to her, we know that. The question is, do we want to play it or not?”

In your periphery, you watched the remaining members of the team funnel into the bullpen, each of them placing their belongings on their respective desks before setting up for the day. Glancing back at Spencer, you shrugged almost indeterminably, “Do we have a choice?”

Spencer met your stare before looking back at Emily and Rossi, “Could you guys give us a minute?”

The both of them nodded, switching off the screen before heading out, presumably to begin briefing the remainder of the unit. You listened to the click of the door, waiting for Spencer to say anything.

“I don’t want you in there,” he told you.

You weren’t shocked by his request. When he was released from prison he had wanted to keep you near, going so far as to have you fly with him and your sister to Mount Pleasant because after three months he couldn’t bear to be separated. However, he didn’t want you in the observation room, so you stayed on the sidelines while he spoke with Cat, only hearing bits and pieces after the fact.

Once you nodded, Spencer took a deep breath, “I don’t want her to be able to use you against me. If she even gets the slightest idea that you’re behind the glass… I don’t know what she’ll do.”

Most members of the BAU had their One. The one UnSub that would likely haunt them for the rest of their lives, for Emily it was Ian Doyle, for Rossi it was Tommy Yates, and for Spencer it was Cat. “I’ll stay in the bullpen,” you reassured him, “I won’t leave the building, but I don’t need to listen in.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, pressing a timid kiss to your hairline before looking over to where Emily was waving him over.

Grimly, you followed Spencer out of the roundtable room, armed guards pouring through the elevator, signifying that the eagle had landed. You stopped at the glass doors, nestling yourself behind a wall – you didn’t need to see her, and she didn’t deserve to see you.

“She’s a contract killer?” Matt questioned as Spencer, Emily, and Rossi headed to the interrogation room. The only member of the team who hadn’t been around while Spencer was in Millburn, and the only member of the team with no experience with Cat Adams. In your gut, you felt a tug of envy.

Penelope nodded nervously, “She’s much, much more than that.” Her voice wavered slightly. Garcia had her own issues with Cat Adams, months of living in the BAU had left her worse for wear, but it was the best option while being hunted by a group of hit men.

You watched the members of the team as their eyes followed Cat around the hallway. “She’s a black widow,” JJ clarified for Simmons, “She preys on men she can seduce. She thrives on psychological seduction.” Her words made your stomach flip as you remembered everything she had put Spencer through in Mexico and subsequently prison – it was psychological warfare, and he was being sent into the lion’s den.

Luke nodded along to the narrative, “She has a body count that she’s never confirmed, but it’s believed to be in the hundreds.” Last time you had given tallying them up a chance you had almost reached two hundred, but she was only being criminally charged with seventy-three counts.

“She’s one of the most dangerous criminals we’ve ever arrested,” Tara admitted, “and she is obsessed with Reid.”

The group took a collective breath when Cat was fully in the interrogation room, “He’s the only man to ever outsmart her,” you continued. As much as he hated to admit it, everything she had ever said to Spencer had hit its mark, and you felt like your insides were being shredded at the knowledge that he was in there with her.

You flipped through Cat’s prison records once you were sat at your desk, looking up at any slight moment at the hope that someone might tell you what was going on. The prison records were relatively tame outside of what you already knew about her and Wilkins and her involvement with Lindsay Vaughn, but something you hadn’t thought about was her baby.

Spencer had broken the hard truth to Cat that day in Mount Pleasant, she couldn’t be a good mother. Her psychopathy would make it so that she would grow bored with a baby the same way a child would bore of a doll. You wondered how she viewed her miscarriage. Some psychopaths had the capacity to mourn, but you weren’t sure Cat fell within that demographic.

Her medical record painted a horrifying picture. She had been so far along that the baby had been delivered stillborn. Your stomach flipped at the charts, closing them before moving to the kitchenette to refill your coffee.

On your way, you saw Spencer through the glass doors, changing course so you could catch him before he went back. You veered around the corner, not wanting to call out his name before he turned into an interview room. Lagging behind, you kept yourself hidden, feeling like you were intruding and starting to walk backward, away from him.

Until you heard a crash and a shout, at which point you pivoted and returned to the interview room. A few agents started rubbernecking at the door, trying to see what was going on, “Keep walking,” you ordered them, pointing away from the room.

Inside the room, Spencer had haphazardly discarded his tie on the floor before proceeding to swipe everything off of the bookshelf. He didn’t acknowledge you as you stepped into the room, he just paced, placing his hand on his chest as he tried to self-regulate.

You tried to go around him, wanting to pick up the fallen books before anyone noticed what had happened, but before you could, Spencer grabbed your hand and pulled you into him. Getting over the initial startle, you reached out your arms and wrapped them around him, “I’m right here.”

“I’m struggling,” he admitted to you, holding you tightly against him. His time in prison felt like lifetimes ago at this point, but the way he hugged you reminded you of the day he got out – the last time you had to deal with Cat Adams.

His openness about his feelings helped to ease your own anxiety, and you were able to look up at him and offer a comforting smile, “That’s alright. This isn’t easy.” You kept your eyes on him, readjusting his rumpled collar and messy hair, “Why don’t you go get some water? I’ll take care of this,” you offered, holding your hand up when he tried to protest.

Spencer left without a fight, and you tried to reassemble the books and trinkets in the way they had previously been before wiping your palms on your jeans and walking back into the bullpen.

The team was gathering in the roundtable room, exchanging information and proposing ideas, “The victimology’s off,” Spencer said, gesturing to the screen where the two girls were being displayed.

“How so?” Tara asked, raising an eyebrow and glancing between your fiancé and the screen.

He crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Two young girls. She’s never done anything like this before.”

Agreeing, Tara looked around the table, “She usually targets men that remind her of her father. Children, even adult children are off limits.” She turned to Penelope, “Do we have an ID yet?”

Waving a fuzzy pen in the air, Penelope sighed, “You would think a parent or someone would notice, but there’s nothing coming up in any of my searches.”

“What do we know about the partner who’s been helping her?” Rossi asked no one in particular, looking to anyone who might have an answer.

Matt leaned his elbows over the table, “It’s gotta be someone from her prison. She wasn’t in contact with anyone else. We can start with known associates who were recently released,” he looked to Garcia, who nodded astutely before typing furiously on her laptop.

You spoke up from the doorway, slipping Spencer’s discarded tie into your back pocket, “I have a list going of associates at Mount Pleasant, we can do some comparing and contrasting,” you offered.

“Oh, I do love a good Venn diagram,” Penelope concurred, smiling before scooping up her laptop and making her way back to the lair.

Taking her seat, you uncomfortably sat next to JJ, leaning your knees toward Rossi so that you didn’t accidentally touch her legs. “Okay, can I tell you what’s been bugging me?” Your sister asked rhetorically, “Every time we’ve gone up against Cat, there’s the presenting agenda and the hidden one. If she sticks to pattern, this isn’t just about going on a date with Spencer.”

You considered the idea of her not having a secondary agenda but she had already veered so far off from her usual M.O. that everything else needed to follow the arbitrary rules in her mind.

“Right now, she’s a fixed variable,” Emily counseled, “We need to focus on identifying the UnSub and her victims.”

At that, everyone parted ways except for you and Spencer, you stayed flipping through folders of research you had on Cat Adams, ranging from her time as Miss .45 to her years in Mount Pleasant Women’s Correctional Facility. Spencer stood, hands on the back of your chair as he looked at the pictures being projected on the screen.

Every time Cat Adams came up, each topic you even slightly associated with her resurfaced – Diana’s Alzheimer’s diagnosis, Mexico, Millburn, and now the two of you were just barely recovering from the fallout of your sister’s truth. You were overwhelmed, and if you were overwhelmed, Spencer had to be on the verge of some kind of breakdown.

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered despite the empty room, “Tell me what to do.”

You took a deep breath before turning your head and looking up at him, “I can’t tell you what to do. This is your decision.”

He sighed, lowering himself down in the chair next to you and resting his chin in his hand, “Then don’t tell me what to do, but I would like your input. Your thoughts, feelings,” he amended.

Smiling despite yourself, you looked over at him, “Someone’s paying attention in couple’s therapy,” you said lightly, setting your hand gently on his knee.

“I just need to know if we’re on the same page or if I’m going to mess everything up,” he said, bringing his free hand to where yours rested and threading your fingers together.

You leaned back in the office chair, shrugging slightly before you answered, “I think you should go.”

Spencer frowned, “What?”

“I think you should go on the date with Cat,” you iterated.

Clearly, that wasn’t what he had expected from you, “I don’t- You want me to go on a date with someone else?”

You flipped your file shut before looking back at him, “If I had the liberty to look at this situation as just your fiancé I would, but I’m not just your fiancé. I’m an FBI agent and I’m looking at these girls,” you gestured to the screen, “and I know that our best chance of finding them might just be sending you on a date with Cat.” You took a deep breath, “She always trips up and she always does it with you. It’s your call, at the end of the day, you don’t need to go if it’s not something you want to have to experience, but you asked for my thoughts, so there they are.”

Spencer looked conflicted as he considered his options, “I’ve- We’ve come so far recently. I’d hate to ruin all of that.”

Shaking your head, you smiled at his concern, “Solving the case has to come first this time, love.”

He nodded in agreement, standing up and keeping your hands intertwined, “Come with me,” he encouraged, nearly dragging you over to the interrogation room where Cat was. He opened the door to the observation room and brought you in with him.

You averted your eyes so that you didn’t have to look at her – possibly the only woman you would throttle given the chance – and just waited for Emily, who was getting more details.

Waiting for the door to close behind her, Spencer listened for the click before speaking up, “Well, what are her demands?”

Emily looked exasperated, sharing a look with you before responding, “She wants to go ice skating so she can skate circles around you. She’s wasting our time.”

And her own, you thought, Cat didn’t have much time to make an arrangement with Spencer, eventually, she’d just be sent back to prison. Ice skating would never get approved anyway. No matter how you try to spin it, no one would give her a blade.

The door opened, taking attention away from Cat and onto Penelope, who looked confused and mildly disturbed, “Okay,” she started, “Something weird happened, but it could be a lead. I just got a bazillion voicemail messages, all from the same address on Fourth Street.”

While Tara and Luke checked out the potential lead on Fourth, you stayed sat at your desk, listening carefully to the bustling office around you. Up in Emily’s office, you heard your sister and Simmons updating your unit chief, “We found the UnSub, her name is Juliette Weaver – it took the prison all of five minutes to identify her.”

You filtered through your file in front of you, looking for the information you had on Weaver while Matt continued speaking, “She was Cat’s old cellmate. Released from prison six months ago, off the grid a week ago.”

“What was she in for?” Rossi asked and you wondered if they knew how well voices carried into the bullpen.

Matt cleared his throat before responding, “Low-level possession, she took the rap for her boyfriend, but according to the warden, she’d follow Cat around like a puppy dog.”

Your unit chief hummed thoughtfully, “Easily manipulated. So, Cat groomed her, got her to take orders.” Much like she had done with Lindsey Vaughn, convincing her to destroy Spencer’s life – you wondered if Juliette considered Cat her lover too.

“It goes deeper than that,” JJ interjected, “Cat and Juliette have something in common.”

“Juliette’s dad killed her mom in a domestic dispute. Then he fled and was never caught,” Matt resumed, surprising you.

As you imagined the surprise on Emily’s face, she responded, “That’s exactly what happened with Cat’s parents.”

You watched them in the office as Matt set something down on Emily’s desk, “Yeah, so we did a little digging into Susan. We thought that she might’ve been Juliette’s mom, but she’s not.”

“She’s Cat’s,” Rossi realized.

Matt hummed in confirmation, “Susan Adams, unidentified cold case from 1987. She was found floating in the water on the Potomac. Thanks to that picture, the case isn’t cold anymore.”

Turning your attention back to the information you had on Cat’s former cellmates, you looked over Juliette’s personal information. There wasn’t much on her, but there were some details about her family – including two younger sisters. You would likely need Garcia to confirm it for you, but you had a good feeling that the two girls being held captive were Juliette’s sisters. If that was Juliette’s stake in this, you were no closer to figuring out what Cat’s endgame was.

Looking up at your computer, you thought about the first time Spencer and Cat had gone head-to-head. It had been almost four years to the date. You frowned at your monitor, “It’s an anniversary,” you whispered to no one in particular.

“What was that?” Luke asked from his desk, adjusting his Kevlar vest as he prepared to be the chaperone for the date.

Double-checking the dates, you turned to face him as you clarified, “Four years, almost to the date of the day Spencer arrested Cat.”

Luke nodded in understanding, “That’s why she chose now to act. It wasn’t just that she was running out of time, this was the perfect time for her to get into Reid’s mind.”

Scoffing, you gathered up your papers and walked up to Emily’s office, if Cat wanted to meddle, fine, but you could play her game too.

Four years, you thought to yourself. Spencer had been on family leave for months, and taking down Cat was his first case back. You wish you had known back then how much that case would affect the next four years of his life.

The team gathered when it was time, the remaining eight standing outside of the glass doors to the unit and watching and Spencer and Cat strolled through the hallway. She had been cleaned up, some poor agent sent out to find a date-appropriate outfit for her, and she was holding onto Spencer like he was a prize she had won at a fair.

Spencer’s face was blank. No, worse than that, he was completely absent. Separating himself from what was going on with Cat. It horrified you, every time you saw Spencer retreat into himself it made you sick to your stomach. You were grateful Luke was going with them, he was someone Spencer trusted to make the right calls.

For the first time that day, you and Cat locked eyes, glaring at each other in a battle of wills, “Don’t wait up,” she called out to you, winking before the heavy elevator doors slid shut.

Slowly, your group dispersed, going back to trying to figure out Cat and Juliette’s endgame. You looked at your files, but you couldn’t focus, you could barely breathe. Spencer would be safe. He was smart enough to evade anything Cat threw at him, but she seemed to chip at him every time they saw each other.

You swung in your office chair, trying to form an even semi-helpful thought as your sister came up to your desk, “Hey.”

Peeling your eyes away from the folders, you looked up at her, “Hi,” you responded, slightly confused.

JJ sat on the edge of your desk, crossing her ankles so her legs didn’t dangle, and she looked at you, blonde hair curtained around her face.

There wasn’t much for you to do until the date started and Spencer could fish for answers with Cat, but even so, you weren’t interested in holding a staring contest with your sister. “Did you need anything?” You felt like it was a gentle enough question, there was no reason for you to bring your hostile family relationship to work with you. Everyone knew there was something happening between the two of you, but no one knew precisely what it was.

Her eyebrows creased briefly, “I thought we could talk, just for a minute.”

You unceremoniously dropped your pen on your desk, leaning back and looking at your sister incredulously, “Kind of shit timing, don’t you think?”

“I invited you for dinner last night and you didn’t show up. Every time I come up to you at work you start a conversation with someone else,” she tried to explain herself.

It was exactly as she thought – you were avoiding her. You had no interest in repairing your familial tie, your thread of gold had frayed beyond repair. “I was busy last night, I told you I wouldn’t be able to make it. You’re the one who didn’t believe me.”

She sighed defeatedly, “Thursdays used to be your best night. You’d always come for dinner on Thursday nights like clockwork, are you telling me that changed overnight?”

You bit your tongue, but it wasn’t that you were trying to stop yourself from sniping at her, you were trying to stop yourself from telling her where you were last night. Thursday evening was your weekly couples counseling appointment and your sister didn’t need to be privy to the inner workings of your relationship. Besides that, none of this had been overnight – you hadn’t been over for dinner in months now.

For every single milestone that you reached with Spencer, JJ was the first person you told, but when you got engaged, she found out the news secondhand through Penelope. You knew you had hurt her. Maybe it wasn’t the same as her love confession, but you hurt her, and you couldn’t bring yourself to apologize. You weren’t entirely sure if you should apologize.

“I’m telling you that I didn’t snub you on dinner, JJ. I was busy, I couldn’t come,” you told her, keeping your tone level as you looked up at her.

Her expression soured, “How long are you going to be mad at me?”

Forever, if you could help it, but you couldn’t tell her that. Despite your anger, despite the sadness that thinking too hard about all of this brought you, you knew that you weren’t capable of holding your sister at arm’s length for the rest of your life. “JJ, I’m not-“ you cut yourself off. “When I found out that you were in love with Spencer, I promised myself that I wouldn’t hold it against you,” you lowered your voice, conscious of the bustling bullpen around you. “I’ve kept that promise. I can’t blame you for loving him when I know everything he has ever done that makes him loveable. I love him too. So, in whatever convoluted way you want to look at it, I understand where you’re coming from.”

She nodded in what seemed like agreement, “Ducky, I’ve known him for fifteen years, I couldn’t-“

“You see,” you interrupted her, “That’s where my understanding runs out. Just because you’ve known him longer doesn’t give you the right to come into our relationship and fuck everything up. Yes, Jennifer, you’ve known him for fifteen years, but you rejected him. You rejected him and ended up with someone else. Thirteen years after meeting Will, you told Spencer you were in love with him. Do you know how wrong that is?”

JJ’s shoulders slumped forward, “Yes, but-“

You held up your hand, stopping her from speaking, “No, JJ. There’s no ‘but’. What you did was wrong. You can try to justify it to me in whatever way you want, but what you did will always be wrong. It will always affect our relationship. Your love for Spencer is the ghost haunting our house and there are no Ouija boards in the world that can translate for me,” You cringed at your figure of speech, but you went along with it anyway.

“You’re engaged, so there’s obviously a way through this for the two of you,” she tried to argue, but you could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

Pausing, you picked at the dry skin around your nails, “Spencer and I had a really long and exhaustive talk a few weeks ago.”

She raised her eyebrows, “I know, I read the police blotter.”

You rolled your eyes, that hadn’t been a fun talk with Emily, but at least she prevented your dispute from reaching HR. “Yeah, we had a loud talk. We figured things out. We’re still figuring things out, but we decided that we’d rather do that together than apart.”

“I helped him pick the ring,” she confessed. “About a year ago and I thought… I thought he’d tell me before asking.”

Instinctively, your eyes flicked down to your left hand, “For what it’s worth, it was all very spur of the moment.”

JJ shook her head, “Why are you trying to comfort me right now?”

“God, JJ. I might be pissed at you, but you’re still my sister,” you snapped at her. “While I might want to, I can’t just cut you out of my life and I can’t stop myself from caring about you. If you want to work on our relationship, owning up to your mistakes is a good start. Spencer came clean to me and now we’re engaged, but that doesn’t negate the fact that this was broken in the first place. You don’t get to brush this under the rug.”

“You wouldn’t let me brush it under the rug anyway,” she retorted.

Your head snapped up to her, “Is that what you want? To forget any of this ever happened?”

She was quiet for a while before responding, “Yes.”

You pressed your lips together and studied her briefly, “Well, I can’t give you that.”

JJ opened her mouth like she wanted to say something else, but Emily beat her to it, calling out to you from the doorway of her office, “Do you have a second?”

The ceiling of your apartment was only interesting for a limited amount of time. You’d spent years in the apartment, tracing the patterns with your eyes just felt redundant now.

Emily had benched you. She disguised it as giving you the rest of the night off, but you were effectively taken off the case. She couldn’t claim it was a conflict of interest, everyone on the team had a conflict of interest with Cat Adams, but that’s what she thought it was.

You sat down on the couch, drumming your fingers on your denim-clad thigh while you waited for a phone call – you’d even take a text message.

Wallowing in your own boredom, you listened to the sounds of the city. Where the two of you lived, it was hectic during the day and became more manageable at night, but it was still the city. Cars drove by, sirens wailed, people chatted along the sidewalk, and people spoke in the hallway.

No, actually, people talking in your hallway was abnormal. Sitting up, you looked at the front door, considering going to snoop in on your neighbor’s conversation.

You didn’t even have the time to decide before the door opened, revealing Spencer and Cat in the middle of what seemed like a rather intense kiss.

He pulled away, looking into the apartment and seeming surprised to see you.

Standing up, your arms dangled limply at your sides, “Oh, Spence.”

Holding up a finger, he silently begged you to wait. You couldn’t hear anything that came out of his mouth, everything was muffled as you fought back the tears that were burning your eyes.

You didn’t talk again until Cat spoke to you. “What?”

She laughed slightly and you could hear your heart pounding, “Did it make you mad when I kissed your fiancé?”

You hated her. Your mother would tell you that hate is a strong word, and you still didn’t care, you hated her. “No,” you lied through your teeth.

Innocently, her eyebrows raised, “Why not?”

Four years. Four years of her haunting Spencer. You thought back to that first meeting at the restaurant and responded, “No offense, but you’re not really worth getting mad at.”

Her eyes lit up and even though you knew better, you were proud of yourself for striking a nerve. With a psychopath, that was a dangerous game. Before long, she meandered around the furniture in your home and sat in the reading chair, she looked at you, “Oh, sweetheart, we have so much to talk about. I’m so glad Spencie finally decided to introduce us.”

Anxiously, your eyes flicked over to Spencer’s. Worse than your own anxiety, he looked angry, an uncommon expression for him to wear. “It’s nice to have a real conversation with you,” you gratified her.

“Normally, Spencie and I, we spend our time together playing games, but tonight I want you both here to make a point,” she watched Spencer as the two of you waited for the ball to drop. “You could do so much better, because girl,” she turned to look at you, “You need to know the truth about him.”

Pinching your brows together, you looked at Cat, “What are you talking about?”

She smiled to herself, flipping her brown hair over her shoulder, “He told me that no matter what, he can’t get me out of his mind.”

“Everything I said to her tonight was a lie,” Spencer interjected, doing damage control on your relationship while Cat tried to take it apart.

Cat scoffed, “Did our kiss look like a lie?”

There was a time when Spencer was under the impression that he had been sexually assaulted by Cat in Mexico, and during that time, you were afraid of him hurting himself. You were in the lion’s den with him now and you had to rely on your gut. He wouldn’t kiss her unless it was his last resort. He wouldn’t do that to himself. He wouldn’t do that to you. Still, you forced yourself to look at him and answer her question, “No.”

“Thank you, now we’re getting to the heart of the matter,” she resumed smugly, obviously pleased with your response and she stood up, putting her hands on everything around the apartment. “You see, everyone thinks that Dr. Spencer Reid is- is just this nice, bookish, uh, genius who uh, always saves the day and has all the answers and has… zero mommy issues, right?” She pointedly tipped over a photo of Diana before she continued flouncing around the apartment, “But um, I know the real him.”

Spencer looked at her incredulously and you wished you could hear what he was thinking at that moment, “Yeah? Who’s the real me, Cat?”

She cocked her head at you, the faux pity in her eyes made you nauseous, “The real Spencer Reid throws women against walls and hisses that he’s going to kill them.”

He faltered and you knew she had hit her mark, “That was a very different situation.”

“Was it?” She challenged, looking at him for a rebuttal, but the vacant look was coming back to his eyes.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you met his eyes, “What is she talking about?”

You had been in Mount Pleasant that day. For all of the things she knew about, she didn’t know that you had been there, and you could use that against her, but you’d likely hurt Spencer in the process.

“You tell her,” Cat insisted, “She’s not gonna believe it coming from me.” With a flourish, she sat back down in the chair, crossing her legs as she watched her entertainment for the night.

Spencer pursed his lips, leaning forward as his eyes flicked between the two of you, “Just like tonight, she got under my skin and-“

“You threw her against a wall,” you finished, displaying your comprehension of the story to Cat and reminding Spencer that you already knew.

Cat stood back up, dragging a hand along your shoulders, sending goosebumps sprawling across your skin. “Don’t skimp on the details, Spencie,” she goaded him. “She deserves to know everything.”

The terrible feeling you’d had all day worsened as you realized where she was going with this. It was the natural continuation of the story for her even if it wasn’t the truth.

“She was pregnant at the time, and I knew that when I hurt her,” Spencer admitted, the shame he felt emanating from him in waves.

You’re not like that, baby. You’re not a violent person, you remembered telling him. You wanted to tell him that now, but she’d never let you.

Cat looked at you, a devilish glint in her eye as she rounded out her fabrication, “And the next day I miscarried. The end.”

Your breathing hitched as you saw Spencer retreat completely into himself, “What? That’s not true.”

Her head snapped over to him, “It most certainly is true, check my medical records.”

“That doesn’t- I would-“ He stuttered, but it was too late.

“Stop,” she interjected, nodding her head in your direction, “Look.”

You were choking on the truth. You wanted to scream at her and simultaneously tell Spencer that she was lying to him. The words weren’t coming out, the only thing you had were tears. They were streaming down your face as you looked at nobody and nothing, sitting on your hands.

No one said anything for a while before Spencer sat down, keeping his distance from you, “I’m sorry.”

“Notice how your fiancé is apologizing to you and not me,” Cat instructed you, you peered up at her through wet eyelashes. “Men are all the same, aren’t they Ducky?”

Spencer jumped to your defense as you blanched at the nickname, “Don’t call her that,” he snapped.

Cat inclined her head toward him, “What, are you going to throw me up against the wall and choke me or do you only do that to pregnant women?”

Of all of the things for Cat to know about you, your childhood nickname wasn’t what you expected. You looked at her and met her eyes through your bleary ones, “Why are you doing this?”

You regretted the question as soon as you asked it, but you couldn’t take it back now, “Because I want you to see it,” she explained. “I want you to see that he is no better than all the men you chase. All the men who have hurt you before.”

“Stop,” you pleaded, staring at the floor in front of you.

Cat crouched next to you, forcing you to look her in the eyes, “I can see it in your face. Why did you flinch when I used your nickname?”

Your nostrils flared, “It’s none of your business,” you insisted.

She laughed at your attempted assertion, “Oh, but it is. In fact, it’s my specialty. Is he nearby? I could send Juliette over to say hi,” she offered.

“Say yes,” Spencer interjected, “Give her what she wants.”

Glaring at him, Cat waved him off, “He wants you to get me to make a phone call so they can trace it. You’re so good, the BAU.”

You shook your head helplessly, “I never wanted to be involved in this sick, twisted game between the two of you.” Even still, you had never been given the choice. Emily sent you home under the guise of waiting out the date only for it to be a trap.

Cat mock-pouted, “Tell me your story, Ducky, and I promise I will give Juliette a call and those two girls will be safe and sound.”

And that was the end of it. You couldn’t let your cowardice cost those girls their lives – or whatever Cat had planned for them.

“Come on, little duck,” she prodded at you, “It’s story time.”

Spencer shook his head, “Y/N, it’s a trap.”

Scoffing, Cat sat next to you, “It is so tricky, isn’t it? I mean, who are you gonna trust? The lying, cheating, violent psychopath… or me?”

Desperately, you looked up at Spencer and his face fell as he realized what you were doing. “My sister gave it to me,” you told her.

Impishly, she smiled, “Jennifer?”

“No,” you answered, “Roslyn, and don’t interrupt.” You frowned, piling your hands in your lap as you searched for the story. “I don’t remember it, but when I was learning how to walk I… waddled. So, when I would walk around Roz would follow me and make duck sounds, and I would mimic her. She started calling me Ducky after that and it just stuck.”

She smiled at you knowingly, “That is so sweet. How could you hate such a heartfelt nickname from your dearly departed sister?”

You shook your head, “I don’t hate it,” you insisted.

Cat cocked her head at you, “Tell me,” she goaded. “Tell me or I ruin her life.”

Quickly, you looked up at Spencer and made sure he caught the slip up too. The two of you shared a suspicious look before you continued, “My parents put me in school early, I started kindergarten when I was four and I learned early that kids were cruel. They would follow me around and quack,” you laughed despite yourself, what had seemed heinous as a child would barely make you spare a glance as an adult. “One day, we were doing a class craft, and they put glue and feathers on my seat so they stuck to my skirt when I stood up,” you told her, recalling the way your poor mother had to leave work to help you pick feathers from your skirt.

Next to you, Cat lifted a hand to her mouth, fake yawning as she waited for you to get to the man of it all.

“When she got home, I yelled at Roslyn,” You’d spiraled about this so many times in adulthood that you were surprised it had any effect on you anymore. “I told her I hated her. I told her she was a bad sister, and I wanted her to go away,” you admitted, fighting off tears again. “She skipped dinner that night and the next morning she… JJ found her. In the bathroom. She had slit her wrists with our father’s razor blade.”

Spencer’s brown eyes bore into you, reflecting the same sadness that you were sure was on your own face, “You were only four, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, you certainly didn’t help,” Cat snarked.

“Cat,” Spencer snapped.

Frustrated, you wiped under your eyes, “My dad blamed me. He told me he would give me up if it meant she would come back, and he’s maintained that sentiment ever since.” You knew now that there were other things Roslyn had been struggling with at the time, but part of you would always have the nagging feeling that you had a role in your sister’s suicide.

“So, you understand me,” she said matter-of-factly.

Confused, you lifted your head to look at her, “What?”

She scooted closer to you, “You understand why I’ve killed all of them. Those men,” she clarified.”

You looked at her, “No, Cat, I don’t understand you. I hate my dad, but I don’t want to kill him. I don’t prey on the deaths of the people that I hate, and that’s the difference between me and you. I want my dad to have to live with the fact that he’s a horrible person. I want him to live with what he did to me, to my family.”

Cat narrowed her eyes at you, “And he didn’t even visit you after you got shot.”

Out of guilt, you had assumed. His guilty conscience was the only thing that kept him away. After all, almost thirty years of telling you that it should’ve been you, the universe almost came through for him. “Give me the location,” you said, holding her to her end of the bargain.

Groaning, she held out her hand for your phone so she could put the location into your map. Once you had what you needed, you started making your way out, hearing her call after you, “Keep your head above water, Ducky!”

You kept moving, your feet moving beneath you even though your heart wanted to drop to the floor, you charged out the door, ignoring Emily as she tried to comfort you. Luke followed you out of the apartment building, neither of you speaking until you handed your phone to Luke, showing him the location. “Stay here, I’ll call the team and get them to meet here,” he told you, lifting your phone to let you know he was taking it with him.

Trailing behind him anyway, you got into the passenger seat of the SUV, “I have to go, Luke. It’s… I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced, but Luke generally wasn’t one to argue with you. “Okay, but I’m still calling for backup.”

It wasn’t a far drive, in fact, months ago this bridge had been a regular stopping point when you went on walks, but as soon as you stepped out of the car and heard the water running below you, you froze.

There were flashing lights all around you, and the only thing you could do was watch as Juliette held onto the older of her two sisters at the edge of the bridge. The younger girl was calling out for her sister. Vaguely, you heard Matt trying to talk Juliette into letting them go.

The little girl screamed as Juliette shoved her sister off of the bridge, putting her hands up once the crime had been committed. Luke called for search and rescue through his comm, and you watched the little girl, just as old as JJ when Roslyn passed away.

Keep your head above water.

You didn’t remember much about Roslyn’s funeral, it was mostly JJ straightening your dress and fiddling with her necklace, but that singular event had changed the entire course of your life.

The screaming continued even as you ran to the edge of the bridge, not garnering anyone’s attention until it was too late, and Luke shouted your name as you dove off of the platform.

Afterward, the first thing you would remember was the pain. You absorbed the shock of hitting the water through your arms, causing strain on both of them. The darkness of the water was just as you imagined it would be. That is, until you rose to the surface, met with dozens of flashlights shining down on you.

People called your name, but you just looked around the water, listening for splashing as you hoped to find Juliette’s sister.

There was a gasp behind you, the both of you treading as best you could, but the water was cold, and she slipped under. Impulsivity was never your strong suit, so you hadn’t really considered the way your hands would go numb until you put an arm around her waist, trying to keep her head above the water.

“Y/N!” Matt called from the riverbed, shining his flashlight over at you while you tried to support the girl. It wasn’t easy, you ducked your head under the water and pushed her up, the darkness of the water threatening to swallow you whole.

Hoisting her up, you felt your teammates pull her from the water and sighed, forgetting where you were.

You gagged on the water before reaching up your arms, letting yourself be pulled out. The shock of the air on your lungs was nearly as bad as that of the water, but as you coughed up water on the dirt, you heard the girl start coughing as well.

Her body would have been dumped right where Cat’s mother had been found, and that little girl would have lost her big sister, just like you did. It was the only thing you could think of as you were brought back to the BAU because Emily was insistent on debriefing.

“You dove into the water?” Emily asked before ordering one of the desk agents to go find something for you to change into.

Your wet clothes clung pathetically to your skin as you nodded, “Yeah, I did.”

Luke smiled next to you, “It was pretty impressive, actually.”

“It’s reckless is what it is,” Emily said, studying your damp state, “Go up to my office and turn the space heater, we need to thaw you.”

Rolling your eyes, you walked up to Emily’s office and opened the door, turning the knob on the space heater before sitting on the little couch in her office. Placing your ring on the coffee table to dry, you wrapped your arms around yourself. You waited for the desk agent to return with clothes and instead were surprised when your sister came through the doorway with a pile of clothes in hand. “Hey,” she said, lifting the clothes, “Fresh from the Academy laundry.”

She closed the blinds as you stripped down to your tank top, pulling the sweatshirt over your head before swapping out your pants as well.

“How do you feel?” She asked gently, standing across from you hesitantly.

You looked down at your new clothes, “I feel like FBI Academy propaganda,” you responded, sitting back down on the couch.

Raising her eyebrows, she looked at you intently, “I meant after… everything tonight.”

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you looked up at your sister, “It never had anything to do with Spencer,” you whispered.

She pursed her lips before sitting next to you, “Well, it’s always Cat’s goal to get under Spencer’s skin. She just chose to use you to do it this time.”

You would probably never know how Cat managed to know so much about you. Honestly, you probably didn’t want to know. This time next week, Cat Adams would be dead, and that would just have to be enough for you.

“I can’t believe you jumped into the river,” JJ said in disbelief, rubbing a hand up and down your back.

Shyly, you shrugged at her, “I saw a little girl about to lose her big sister and I couldn’t let her go through that kind of pain.”

Your sister nodded in understanding, “She was eleven?”

You nodded slowly, “And her sister was seventeen,” you whispered.

Part of you felt like you had been staring at an alternate universe all evening. “So,” JJ said, moving the conversation, “Spencer’s on his way back. He’ll probably want to talk to you, clear some things up.”

“Will you sit with me until he does?” You asked softly, afraid of her sniping back about forgiveness, but she didn’t. That wasn’t the way JJ worked, she just nodded, leaning back against the cushions and letting you rest your head on her shoulder.

She didn’t get up and leave until Spencer arrived, she went to meet him in the bullpen, and you waited for the moment someone told him where you were. There was a sensation you had never experienced before, but you felt so separate from your own actions. Despite your still wet hair, you barely remembered diving into the water.

You sensed another psychological evaluation in your future.

The rotating heater warmed you in waves as you listened to your team. They filled Spencer in on everything that had happened tonight, from Juliette’s sisters to Cat’s real plan. “She…” Spencer stammered, “She told me Y/N had a big decision to make tonight. Where is she?”

Blankly, you stared ahead at the heater, wondering what they’d tell him and what they’d save for you. “Well, she may have jumped into the Potomac,” Matt told him tentatively, his voice was gentle as he dropped the bomb.

“She dove actually,” Luke corrected, and you imagined him being proud of his redress.

Emily cleared her throat, ever the mediator, and finally answered Spencer’s question, “She’s up in my office getting warm.”

There were no more questions after that, but you recognized the footsteps as Spencer approached the office. His knock was timid, but he didn’t wait for you to respond before opening the door.

His hair was awry, you supposed yours didn’t look much better, and his breathing was uneven. A symptom, you assumed, of finding out you had jumped into the fourth largest river on the Atlantic coast. “Hi,” you waved nervously.

At the same time, he spoke, “I’m so sorry.”

There was no use in pussyfooting around, “Did you want to talk now, then?”

“Yes,” he answered instantly, “I can’t… I’m so tired of things looming over our heads.”

You sighed, folding your hands in your lap, “That cumulonimbus has been there for quite some time, hasn’t it?”

“I just cheated on you and you’re making cloud jokes?” Spencer asked in disbelief. At some point in the night, he had lost his jacket, leaving him in a rumpled dress shirt.

Turning to stone, you paused. Maybe it was the Potomac water that you had ingested, maybe it was the other events of the evening, but you had brushed off the kiss between him and Cat nearly immediately. “I guess I didn’t really think of it that way,” you admitted.

He leaned back on Emily’s desk, “All of these problems we’ve been having, and we were just beginning to make headway. I went and ruined it.”

Raising your eyebrows, you looked at Spencer quizzically, “Okay, well, now you’re catastrophizing.”

“I made a choice years ago that resulted in you facing one of your biggest fears tonight, you’re shaking, and your clothes are in a sopping pile on the ground,” he explained as if you weren’t well aware. “I don’t think you’re taking this seriously.”

“I think you just had a shitty night spent with a woman who has a knack for convincing you you’re evil, so you’re telling me how evil you are right now,” you responded, leaning back on the couch cushions. “You’re not evil and you’re barely a cheater,” you told him, “I’d love to lay out all of the evidence for you, but I’m exhausted and I’d rather we just go home.”

One look at Spencer told you that you weren’t going to be getting what you wanted tonight, the histrionics of your evening weren’t over. “I made you cry,” he said meekly. He said it like it was the worst thing he could ever do to you.

“I’m the one who told you to go! I might not be a genius, but I’m smart enough to have considered the fact that Cat would try to make a move.” Groaning, you covered your face with your arms, “Spencer, Cat made me cry. I had to sit back and watch her manipulate you into believing you caused her miscarriage.”

“You knew?” He breathed.

You nodded, dropping your arms and looking at him miserably, “Yes, I knew the truth, and it killed me to not be able to tell you.”

Waiting for him to respond was agonizing. You desperately wanted to apologize for not telling him as soon as you found out about Cat’s baby, but you didn’t think it was important information at the time.

“Oh, thank goodness,” Spencer finally spoke. “I thought… I couldn’t handle it if you thought that I’d-“

Quickly, you shook your head and waved your hands, “No, Spence. I knew the truth from the get-go.”

He was quiet, shuffling his feet on the carpet before he looked up at you. He opened his mouth to speak but second-guessed himself before sealing his lips and crossing his arms in front of his chest. Watching you for a moment, he spoke, “Do you remember when you asked me what my truth would’ve been? If Pinkner had asked me instead of JJ?”

“We should go to bed.”

“Wait, what’s your truth?”

“My truth is that I’m tired, we should go to sleep.”

Part of you wanted to ask if he wanted to do this now, after the day the two of you had, you’d be perfectly content with going home and leaving this conversation for tomorrow. Instead, you nodded, “Yes, you ignored it.”

Spencer chuckled nervously, “You had been spending weeks looking for a reason to pick a fight with me. I didn’t think you would accept my answer for what it was.”

“The truth,” you drew your own conclusion, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

Slowly, he knelt on the ground in front of you, “You were looking for me to tell you that I shared JJ’s feelings. You wanted me to say that you were my second choice, but that has never, ever been my truth. It never has been.”

Swallowing thickly, you reached your hands out and took his in yours, gently skimming the pads of your thumbs over the back of his hands, “Spencer, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he whispered.

“What’s your truth?” You asked him softly, approaching the topic like a deer in the woods.

He looked down at your intertwined hands, noting the fact that you had taken your ring off before he responded, “I’ve spent my entire life trying to live up to the expectations of others. I went to Caltech, then MIT, and then I was recruited to the BAU. Through all that, I was under the impression that I was letting people down.”

This was a familiar conversation to you. You once spent hours talking him off of a metaphorical ledge because he hadn’t cured schizophrenia.

“I’m not the perfect son, who sent his mother away a week after turning eighteen,” an action that had almost gotten him killed. “I’m not a perfect agent and I’m not a perfect friend because the expectations set for me are too high, but I’m not a perfect boyfriend or fiancé either. It’s not because you hold me to a certain standard, it’s because I failed you.”

Your eyes widened at his admission, “Spencer, no, you didn’t.” Your chest ached at the thought of this living in his head. He had been living while paralyzed by the weight of the expectations of others when he just wanted one thing - to feel normal.

He waved you off, “Do you remember what you asked me? On that date in the shooting range?”

Seven years ago, shortly after Emily left for Interpol, you and Spencer had an impromptu date at the shooting range. “I asked you not to break my heart.”

“And I have, haven’t I? Time and time again,” he asked rhetorically, not looking for an answer even when you wanted to prove him wrong. “You’ve watched me get shot, you’ve seen me in handcuffs, beaten, kidnapped, fired – and you’ve never wavered. You have loved me through it all, and I haven’t reciprocated fairly. I had never known unconditional love, and I think you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to it. I get put on this pedestal by everyone I meet and you’re the only person who has ever made me feel average. I know average is usually used with a negative connotation, but in this case, I mean it positively. You don’t have outlandish requests from me, all you’ve ever asked for is love, and I… I’m never going to be able to verbalize how much that means to me. How much you mean to me.”

“Spencer,” you tried to interject.

His eyes met yours, his brown irises slightly bleary as he looked at you intently, “I am so sorry. I’m sorry about your sister and I’m sorry about kissing Cat and I’m sorry about all of the ways I have broken your heart and if you… if this is where you need to call it, then I completely understand.”

“Spencer,” you echoed.

He tilted his head to the side, “What?”

You raised your eyebrows, “My ring is over there, on the coffee table, will you put it back on for me?”

“Do you mean it?” He asked, reaching behind him for the ring without waiting for your answer.

Holding out your left hand, you nodded, “There have been a lot of wrongs – from the both of us, but I don’t… I can’t hold the JJ thing against you anymore. You’re verifiably a genius. So, if you tell me that the only thing that would’ve pleased Cat is kissing her, then I’ll believe you. I trust you, and if I lose that, then I lose myself.”

He seemingly thought about it for a moment before responding, “It was the only thing I could think of, and I promise I will make this up to you.”

Smiling softly, you flexed your fingers once he slid the ring back on, relishing the feel of the metal on your finger. “Then it’s a good thing you’re only getting married once, it gives you a lot of time to make it up to me.”

“Did you have any ideas?” He asked a little too eagerly.

You beamed, “Oh, I have a few.”  

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[lovelettersfromluna]

Here are a few Love Island!Ellie head canons because god…with how this season is going so far? I need it.

an: This is truly written from a place of fun! This isn’t to be taken seriously AT ALL! This is a funny little Drabble I whipped up in line twenty minutes because I thought it would be funny after my post I made a day or two ago. This isn’t for anyone and is 100% geared to a very specific audience 😭 also if any of you are watching this season of Love Island USA, can we please chat about it in the comments??? What are your thoughts???? Anyways, enjoy!! 🤍

• First of all…queer Love Island??

• I know there’s a queer Ultimatum but…the chaos of Love Island is just something I need to see with a house full of women instead

• Let’s start things off by talking about you

• Your intro is most definitely the one that catches everyone’s attention out of all the other girls. You have a personality that hasn’t exactly been seen in the seasons prior to yours and something about you just feels fresh you know?

• Your intro song is After Hours by Kehlani don’t fight me on this

• I really like how this season started with the girls arriving at night rather than in the middle of the day? Makes an easier transition I feel, so it’s the same for this too I’d say

• You aren’t the first to arrive, so you and the other girls (who you are losing your mind over they’re all so gorgeous and you’re already mentally taking note of who you want to pull for a chat later) when the last few singles arrive.

• They save the best for last of course

• Ellie’s intro 100% paints her out to be the bad girl of the season. Like come on, those tattoos? That fucking face?? The icing on the cake is that her intro song is Bandit by Don Toliver

• When she’s making her rounds of introducing herself to everyone, her eyes on yours immediately.

• Because she knew there would be hot girls in the villa, but Jesus fucking Christ???

• Now, contrary to what you might think, you and Ellie aren’t actually coupled up that night.

• Because you’re here to explore connections! And as much as Ellie literally takes your breath away with that fucking look in her eyes when she first spots you, there are other girls here that you like too.

• And you can also tell Ellie’s type from a mile away, and you’d rather steer clear of that before making any permanent reservations and making yourself look like an idiot for millions of people all over the world to see (we see what Leah is going through with Rob 🫠 let’s avoid that shall we?)

• Ellie though, is relentless.

• Because in her mind, she sees things completely differently.

• Why the hell would she waste her time talking to other random girls whenever you’re right here! Sleeping two or three beds across from her with some idiot instead of her.

• She’s shameless with it honestly.

• She’s always pulling you to chat with her, long fingers lingering on the supple skin of your thigh as you two are sat in the big swing or on the bean bags.

• “why didn’t you wanna couple up with me out first night?” She hums out softly, her head resting on one of the brightly colored pillows as she pulls your legs into her lap (while the girl you’re couple with and the girl she’s coupled with are literally across the villa)

• You giggle softly because she’s wasting no time in trying to get you comfy enough with her to choose her for the next re-coupling and it’s making your head spin.

• In all honesty? You didn’t choose her because you knew the moment you coupled up with Ellie, you’d be spoiled for everyone else.

• And shit hits the fan basically overnight here in the villa, so you’d rather not put all your eggs in one basket on the first fucking night (you refuse to have your family watch you be an idiot at home)

• She groans when you explain that to her, pressing her forehead to your shoulder as her teeth nip at your skin, which makes you nudge her playfully because she is getting way too close and the girl you’re coupled up with is shooting daggers with her eyes at the both of you.

• It also is not helping that Ellie is wearing the cutest black triangle bikini top with a pair of shorts and it’s just…god…her body is fucking insane.

• Later that night it’s the same, you’re upstairs doing your makeup with some of the others girls, having a bit of a recap of everything while spilling a bit of tea and gossip on what you’ve all gathered throughout the day.

• The topic of you and Ellie is top of the list on what the girls ask you about the moment you settle down in your chair to start getting ready for the night, and it makes you smile shyly as you try to find the words to say.

• Especially since the girl thats coupled up with Ellie could walk in at any moment….

• “Yeah uh…I dunno….I really like her but I feel like I need to also explore connections, you know?” You explain, your words a bit muffled as you apply your lip liner onto your lips.

• “With the way she looks at you? Exploring connections won’t be that easy” one of the girls hums out, causing the others and yourself to erupt in a fit of laughter.

• Ellie is quick to snatch you away once again when you and the other girls come downstairs to meet with their couples, barely giving the girl you’re actually coupled up with the time to give you a proper hug and kiss after you’ve all cheered to your second night there.

• I’d like to think that Ellie really values her privacy in the villa, and even though it’s damn near impossible to actually get away from all eyes and ears, she tries her best any way.

• Her hands are interlocked with yours, your heels clanking against the wood of the stairs as she pulls you up to Soul Ties (YUUUPPPP IYKYK)

• She’s staring deeply into your eyes as she brings her cup to her lips, taking a sip of her wine before she settles back against the mountain of pillows behind you, her hands toying with the frilly fabric of your dress.

• “You know I wouldn’t wanna be with anyone else in here but you…right?” She hums out softly, fingers dancing along the exposed skin of your thighs.

• And you can’t help but bite back a laugh, because this seems soooo illogical to you! Like it’s only been two days at this point?

• Ellie groans when you try to explain this to her. “Yeah but it’s different…I’m with you all the time…it isn’t like things on the outside” she pouts out, clearly annoyed with the fact that you’re still keeping walls up with her.

• It makes you sigh softly, because at this point you know you’re only holding yourself back from possibly having the strongest connection in the entire villa, but you want to play the game right! You want to explore the connections that have been placed before you without any regrets.

• But then Ellie’s eyes are going low, and you can see her leaning in closer, her legs interlocking with yours as her hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and you already know what’s coming.

• Her lips are so soft, and she’s probably the best kisser you’ve ever had. It’s slow and sensual and the champagne in your system already has you buzzing a bit, a soft moan leaving your mouth as your hands go down to tug on her shirt slightly, her tongue working against yours.

• it’s easy in that moment to forget that you and her aren’t mic-ed up and there aren’t about a hundred different hidden cameras pointing at the both of you catching every angle of your face, because it just feels that good.

• But you’re quick to break the kiss once you remember that everything is being recorded, and you’re still in a fucking couple

• And even though you’re honest with the girl you’ve coupled up with about the kiss, and you explain to her that you’re still opened to getting to know her, in true Love Island fashion, your time with Ellie doesn’t stop.

• It goes on that way until the next re-coupling, and obviously your choice is saved for last because the anticipation of it all has been growing and your storyline seems to be the one that the viewers at home have been the most eager to watch.

• Of course, you choose Ellie.

• Not only because you feel the best when you’re with her, but also because leading people on just feels icky, and you don’t want anyone to perceive you as that sort of person.

• Ellie is over the moon of course, her hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you in close the second she’s sat next to you around the fire pit.

• And even though you’re sharing a room with like twelve other people, you get the best sleep you’d gotten in months when you’re sleeping next to Ellie.

• not before a kiss or two is shared before you sleep though 😌

• And that’s how things go for a while! You and Ellie are viewed as the most solid couple for quite some time, the camera always catching you and her lounged out by the pool talking about your families, or her bringing you breakfast in the morning when you’re getting ready with the others girls.

• “Yeah…my dad would love you. I bet you he knew I’d go for you the second he saw you” she hums out as you two are cuddled up on the swing, which makes you giggle softly. (Joel 100% struggles watching his daughter make out with someone else’s daughter every night but he does see how much Ellie likes you)

• Ellie frowns deeply as her eyes scan the fridge and the pantry of the out door kitchen as she’s outside with some of the other girls. “All they have are fuckin’ avocados and eggs?” She huffs out in annoyance before she settles on whipping you up some avocado toast and filling up your water bottle.

• She’s awkward when she brings it up, shy smile on her face as she peeks into the makeup room, eyes scanning the space for you. Her expression instantly brightens when she spots you pulling your hair up into a pony tail, making her way to you to press a kiss to your head before setting your breakfast down in front of you.

• “Didn’t know if you were hungry…so…yeah…” she mumbles out softly, which makes you giggle softly before thanking her and pressing a kiss to her cheek.

• The viewers at home and your fellow islanders quickly mark you and Ellie as the “married couple” of the villa.

• HOWEVER

• What’s Love Island without a couple of bombshells?

• You can’t stay too comfortable in a place like Love Island, especially when you hear that familiar ping coming from someone’s phone.

• It’s yours, and it happens when you’re out by the pool with a few other girls, trying your best to give advice with the relationship issues that they’re having.

• “I’ve been keeping an eye on you from the outside…but now it’s my turn. Meet me out by the beach for a surprise. And wear something pretty…..

Xoxo Abby”

• The girls you’re sitting with erupt in squeals and giggles, grabbing you and shaking you as you sit there in awe, your mouth hanging open as you stare down at the phone, reading the message over and over again.

• Ellie is on the other side of the villa looking as if she’s ready to kill someone, because who the fuck is Abby?

• You obviously have no choice but to go, and while you’re upstairs getting dressed with the other girls you feel a bit excited? Nervous? It was your first time outside of the villa in almost two weeks and it was for a date with a fucking bombshell??

• Once you’re finished getting dressed, you make your way downstairs to talk to Ellie, because you know you have to.

• Wrapping your arms around her waist and pulling her close makes you feel bad, because it’s easy to forget that the producers are obviously trying to test your relationship with Ellie and see which one of you will break first.

• But that doesn’t make it feel any better.

• “I’ll miss you…I’m sure it’ll be fine…she probably just wants to shake things up here” you assure Ellie with a soft kiss to her cheek.

• She frowns softly as she nods, pulling you close to her chest before she sighs, her feelings clearly in shambles as she stares into your eyes.

• “Yeah…have fun…” she mumbles out softly before she presses a soft kiss to your lips, letting it linger for a moment before letting you go.

• You desperately hope that this girl is a raging asshole who you’ll hate the moment you see her.

• But would she even be a bombshell if she wasn’t perfect?

• Abby looks like a fucking goddess sitting on the beach waiting for you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever seen muscles like hers before, and something in you wants her to show you if they’re just for show or not.

• WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU ARE SPOKEN FOR

• Abby hits all the marks. She makes you feel comfortable, she makes you laugh, and she manages to make your cheeks and ears warm up every time she sends another flirty compliment your way.

• “So…I see you’ve been coupled up with Ellie…how’s that been?” She asks you gently, the gentle ocean breeze blowing through her pretty blond hair, making your head fucking spin.

• You’re honest with her. You tell her that you and Ellie have been very solid since the moment you’ve coupled up. You explain to her that you didn’t choose her in the beginning for the sole purpose of knowing just how attached you’d get to her when you were actually coupled up with her.

• “Yeah um…I think I’m falling for her actually” you mumble out shyly as you stare down into the bottom of your glass, watching as the bubbles of the champagne rise to the surface only to fizzle out shortly after.

• Abby hums softly as she nods at your words, taking a sip of her drink before she speaks. “She seems cool…but it’s early days, yeah? Still exploring a bit?” Abby asks hopefully.

•When you look up and lock eyes with her, you feel the air leave your lungs, because god she is so fucking pretty. Her pink lips are tugged between her teeth, and it makes you have to swallow back a whimper.

• And like an idiot that is charmed by the beauty of this actual goddess, you fucking nod.

• She chuckles softly before she nods with you. “That’s good to hear baby…” she hums softly before she leans in and kisses you.

• Would she be a bombshell if she didn’t kiss you on the first date???

• Back at the villa, Ellie is losing her shit.

• Because everyone is asking her if she thinks you’ll fold, and if she thinks this is a test to your relationship that you’ll pass, and it’s making her want to fucking throw up.

• And now she’s starting to feel the heat of this fucking show, because none of this would’ve been a problem if she had met you on the outside.

• She’s in the middle of pacing when you and Abby come back to the villa later that night, the sound of the group of friends you’d made squealing once they spot you and Abby coming in through the balcony.

• Hand in hand.

• That’s right, Abby brings you back into the villa, with her fingers interlocked with yours.

• Ellie wants to throw herself into the fucking ocean at that point.

• Her confessionals are filled with her groaning and bitching about how she could never compete with Abby, and how her muscles are probably fake anyways, anything to discredit the girls goddess fucking physique.

• you obviously pull Ellie for a chat once the others pull Abby to get to know her, because even though she chose you for the date, the others want to get to know her the moment they see her.

• But even as you talk to Ellie and try to console her feelings, it really all boils down to you and which one you feel the most connected to.

• So? Who would you choose?

[acid-ixx]

lovefool by the cardigans

— series concept ft. soft yandere dc! x bimbo/himbo reader

soft yandere! dc characters x himbo/bimbo/careless reader... who's just a bundle of joy to be with... where all the villains have an agreement to never mess with you, hell even kidnap you occasionally from the arms of the heroes just to hear you rant endlessly about your 'mundane' life as if you weren't just abducted... where the heroes would quite frankly sometimes have to put you in some sort of human leash because you wouldn't literally panic if there's a gun pointed against you...

the urge to make a shitpost/romcom series just because i listened to lovefool by the cardigans... no idea of platonic/romantic but i'm just moving on with the flow... a bit more on the romantic side ig...

i'm going feral at the thought of a wild goose chase with you, because one second you're bundled up in the arms of the justice league, each one of them scheduled to strictly watch over you, another is stationed near the door as they'd be the one to get you anything you want or need— then suddenly you're at a villain's lair that houses all the bad guys and then oops! you accidentally inhaled the scarecrow's fear gas but you're not reacting?! is your mind filled with air...? all your response was a quirk of your eyebrows and a question that's just "is there any signal here? the league told me to call me if i'm in any trouble...?" which then you would quickly take back and instead would smile at them like some goons didn't just threaten you with a knife to your neck just because you screamed, calling the scarecrow's mask a sack of moving, possessed potatoes.

originally, most villains would whisk you away from the arms of your vigilante babysitters but then they discover you're just a bundle of joy who laughs at the shittiest joke anyone could make, who snorts at their 'funny' antics and words, who grins when they take pictures of you to use as bait that you're being held hostage. it kind of goes to the point that their original plans all go to waste and they decide to just, take you all for themselves. they don't even know how you were able to survive being thrown around carelessly by the shoulders of big, muscular men, but they're more jealous at the image of you giggling and running your hands through muscles arms and toned abs; so they took it in themself to be the ones to guide you through your now makeshift room, hoping you would fawn over them with those cute stars in your eyes...

and if you were taken back into the arms of the vigilantes? oh god, the heroes can't even scold you because you'd be already hugging the next person in the room, babbling endlessly about your adventures with the villains and ignoring their seething envy with just how much you brag about how some are "too hot to be evil! i think i can change them!" because why are you talking about some randoms who just kidnapped you for their own gain when you have them right there? no way are you now getting out of their sights, them trying so hard to even distract you from going outside because "it's just too dangerous to be out there, boo! you're safe with us."

and you just nod your head with that toothy grin of your! are you seriously unaware of how much the richest of the rich are willing to pay for just an hour of your already shining presence? hell, you're just too... out of it, to the point you'll be the one who discovers their secret identities just by accidentally noticing details that nobody with functioning thoughts would even think about.

"batman! you must be bruce wayne, right?" you randomly approach him one day, with a foot tapping the floor impatiently. you stare at him like you had made a scientific discovery.

"... how do you know...?"

"'cause you're both hot and rich and whenever i get a feel of mr. wayne's abs, they're the same size as yours—!" and you continue to guess his children's identities all correctly with a quip of how hot they are or how you wish one you were fit and toned enough to have honkers as big as them...

... that night, you're spending it in the batcave with bruce and his children trying their damn best to brainwash you into keeping their identities a secret, to which you reply with a nod and an airheaded smile. but then the moment they remove you from the straps constricting you in a comfy bed, you'll be running off to alfred, ranting about how you can't believe that you guessed their personas right and if he knew it all along too...

huh, guess that's what makes you all the more charming.

a/n: please do comment or send in asks if you're interested in this as much as i am... i wrote this in quick succession and altho i am planning to make this series a shitpost one or a lighthearted romcom one, i rlly want to amp the yandere-ness hehe. it was fun writing this albeit it being written in about 10 minutes or less. ignore the header ill change it soon 🫦

[venus-haze]

Stakeout (Billy Butcher x Reader)

Summary: Ever since you started working with Butcher and The Boys again, life has been exciting, invigorating—and stressful. During a stakeout, Butcher mixes the personal with the professional to help you relieve some of the tension you’ve been carrying around.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. Takes place vaguely in season 1. Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content involving semi-public fingering, light degradation, and voyeurism (Butcher is insane. So is Homelander.)

You hadn’t been on a stakeout in years when Butcher asked—demanded, really—that you come along with him to keep an eye on Vought Tower overnight. Something about letting Hughie get some sleep while you two tried to keep tabs on A-Train’s comings and goings. It was easy enough to see through his bullshit, but rather than call him on it, boredom from your day job and curiosity of what he had up his sleeve made you agree.

Butcher at least had the decency to pick up some snacks from a bodega near your apartment, mostly beef jerky and bags of chips. Kept the radio low on some classic rock station, the two of you sitting in near silence across the street from the tower for the better part of an hour. His car hadn’t changed much from the last time you were in it. Except for the new pine tree air freshener—though new was a stretch. It’d long since lost its scent, but the blue wasn’t as sun-bleached as the old one. Funny, the things you remember.

“This feels like a waste of time. Even if we were here to spy on A-Train, which you and I both know we’re not, there’s no way we’d be able to actually see him leave and come back,” you finally said. “And Homelander wouldn’t leave out of Vought’s front door unless he was doing some publicity to appeal to us plebeians.”

“You got a point.”

“So what’re we doing here?” 

“Y’think the cunt can see us?” he asked.

“Who? Homelander?”

“Yeah.”

“Isn’t the point of a stakeout that we’re not supposed to be seen?”

“S’why I’m asking, love.”

You sighed. “Unless he’s somewhere we can’t see him, then I guess not.”

“Perfect.”

He put his hand on your knee, his fingers inching their way up your pencil skirt. You didn’t have time to change out of your office clothes when Butcher picked you up at your apartment. Even though you were back with his crew, you hadn’t quit your day job just yet, working for some stupid startup that somehow landed a contract with Vought. Gave you some insight into what they were up to, at least made your presence in the tower the least suspicious of anyone else, able to say you were there for business.

You shifted in the passenger seat a bit. “Butcher, what’re you—“

“Tryin’ to help you relax,” he said, his fingers brushing your clit through your panties. “You’ve been tense as hell lately.”

You chewed on your bottom lip. He was right. Linking up with Butcher again after so many years gave you a renewed sense of purpose, but with that came the stress, the late nights, the close calls. In the comfort of his car, just the two of you where no one else could see, maybe you could let him take control for a while.

“How tense, Butcher?” you asked, leaning back in the seat. “Tell me.”

“Workin’ yourself too hard for a bunch of sorry pricks,” he said, his voice low and husky as he tugged at your panties. You lifted your hips so he could pull them to your knees. “Can’t have that when I need you now, yeah?”

You nodded breathlessly as he slid two fingers inside you, pumping them in and out slowly, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. His gaze, dark and intense, always had a way of making you feel acutely aware of his attention on you, even when you weren't looking at him. Sometimes unnerving, but in cases like this, utterly exposed despite being fully clothed.

“Been a long time, huh? You miss this? You miss when I'd take care of your cunt?”

“Yes,” you moaned. “God, Butcher, keep going.”

“Thought of callin’ you a few times the past few years. You were always a good fuck,” he husked, his lips, his rough beard brushing across your neck and jaw. “Look at you now, people walking by, and you don’t give a damn who can see you, long as you get off, huh?”

“Butcher—“

“Bet if I’d taken my cock out instead, you’d have sucked me off. Take it all like the cockslut I know you are. You fuck anyone else the past few years? They know how to treat you? Know how to make you feel good?”

“Yes—No—I don’t know.”

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re pretty when you’re close. How close are you, love?”

“Fuck—I’m close. I’m so fucking close. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” you babbled, choking out a moan when he slipped a third finger inside you. “Keep going, just like that.”

He was pushing you, knew your limits better than anyone, and as much as you hated to admit it, you needed it. Hadn’t realized until then how long it’d been since you’d really been fucked until he curled his fingers inside you, and your brain felt like someone poured soda over it, your skin burning for more.

You didn’t care who saw, all you cared about was getting there, and you were so fucking close it made you screw your eyes shut and cry out in frustration. Jesus, no wonder you were willing to jump back in when Butcher showed up on your doorstep. Everyday was bland, the same old bullshit. There was plenty of bullshit when it came to Butcher and whatever harebrained schemes he came up with, but it was a hell of a lot more fun than typing up reports and sitting through meetings.

“C’mon, love. Put on a show. Let me hear ya.”

You opened your eyes, only to catch Butcher staring out the windshield. Following his gaze, you let out a panicked whine upon seeing a red glow honed in on you, long enough to be sure he was watching. You came on Butcher’s fingers with a perverse moan, pleasure coursing through you as you dug your fingers into the console. You threw your head back, your hips jerking upward as you rode out your orgasm on his hand. 

Butcher was relentless when he wanted to be, and you weakly tapped out, squeezing his muscular arm, whining a bit nevertheless when he pulled his hand away. Sparing another glance at the windshield, the red glow was gone. Homelander was gone.

You told yourself it was the surge of fear-fueled adrenaline that brought you over the edge, not exhilaration at being seen, being caught in such a vulnerable state by the most powerful supe in the world. Definitely not. But you kind of hated yourself for not feeling more humiliated, instead, as you obsessively replayed the scene in your head as Butcher drove down the street, you were thrilled by it. 

Still, he should’ve fucking warned you, given you some kind of heads up. You held your tongue until you were sure the sound of traffic would hide your voice from any superpowered hearing.

“You fucking prick!” you hissed, smacking his shoulder. “You banked on Homelander being enough of a pervert to watch us?”

“Killed two birds with one stone. You feel better now, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reluctantly conceded.

“Attagirl.” He grinned. “I think I know where the cunt’s going.”

You balked. “I can’t look him in the eye after this.”

“You kind of already did.”

“Fuck you, Butcher.”

He glanced at you again, squeezing your thigh. “I’ll make it up to you later, love. Don’t you worry.”

[callme-darling]

Please imagine asking Attorney Vincent Renzi for help after his successful case, begging him to represent you in court and that you're willing to pay with any means he wants just for him to take your case🥺 💦

anon YOUR MIND !!!!!

ok but i can see this being a hidden fantasy of his🫢 like not so much something that he’d genuinely go for in his career, but in the bedroom, as some sort of roleplay? oh my god yes. (please note: this got away from me and i couldn’t stop thinking about vincent being confident and teasing and aidnjsnsjdn)

any means

word count: 1.8k

warnings: smut, vincent x fem reader, coercion (?)—not really, but idk what else to call it, dom vincent, whole lotta flirting and teasing (my fav), some thigh riding/grinding, not proofread

vincent comes home after a successful case—a major one at that, so it’s a huge win for his public image. but for whatever reason, he just can’t seem to relax. maybe it’s from spending the past four months in a near constant state of stress, or maybe it’s the lingering anxiety of the next case, and the next case, and the next case.

whatever it is, it has him sat at the dining table with his head in his hands. his shoulders are tense and you can tell he’s in his head, undoubtedly plagued with overthinking.

you walk up quietly behind him, the house suspended in a tranquil stillness as the hours dip into the late evening. from behind him, you softly place your hands on his shoulders, the lean muscles flexing slightly under your touch. with the diligence of quiet devotion, you work the tightness from his neck and shoulders, fingers soothing the ache before slowly trailing down the front of his chest. you lean more into him, your chest against his shoulders as you bring your lips to his ear. your voice is gentle, a playful lilt in your tone:

“what’s wrong, mon cœur?”

his shoulders rise slightly as he inhales, his palms falling from his face with a sigh. from your angle, you admire as he rubs a hand down his face, his high cheekbones made more prominent as he sucks in his cheeks a bit—a habit that alerted you of his stress.

you wait for him to reply. your hands come back up to massage the nape of his neck, and you can’t help but want to try and find some way to make him feel better.

“i can’t help but think of what’s going to be next. we won this one, but i want to win the next one too, and the one after that, and the one after that…” he sighs again. “i’m tired, but i feel like i should be preparing.”

“for what?”

“i’m not even sure.” he runs a hand through his silver hair, and you catch the way his eyes glow in the dim light of the lamp. “but it feels like a waste to simply sit here and wait.”

you keep your voice soft and your touch even softer as you continue massaging up his neck, your fingers gently combing through the hair at the back of his scalp. “rest and relaxation are part of your job too. you can’t work well if you don’t have balance.”

you watch as he closes his eyes, leaning back slightly into your touch. he has a faint smile on his face.

you quirk a brow, a small grin tugging at the corner of your own lips. “what’s so funny?”

“hm?”

“you’re smiling.”

at that, his smile broadens and you can see the faintest bit of a toothy grin starting to break out. he shifts so that he can bring his arm behind your waist and pull you to stand at his side. vincent turns in his seat to face you, his eyes smiling gently up at you. “i just had a thought, that’s all.”

“what kind of thought?”

“i thought of something that would combine both work and relaxation.”

you tilt your head slightly, an inquisitive expression on your face. “wouldn’t that be counterproductive?”

“you haven’t even heard what it is yet.”

you shake your head a little with a snake roll of your eyes, smile biting at your lips. “okay, fine, what’s this idea of yours?”

you can tell he was proud of whatever it was, from the way his eyes shone and smile was full of confidence. his hand on your waist fell to your hip while his other hand fell to your thigh, his fingers tracing small nonsensical shapes across the skin.

he seemed to pause for a moment, eyes peering into yours with a mischief you hadn’t seen in a few months. the look had your stomach submerged in a pool of heat almost instantly.

his voice was lower now, only by a fraction, but the minute difference meant all that much more to you. “i just thought what it would be like if you were my client.” he watched you as he spoke, undoubtedly noticing the way your thighs twitches under his fingers.

you lick your lips quickly as you gather your thoughts, cheeks beginning to flush as the temperature in the room shifted, but you willed yourself to match his confidence. you stepped even closer into his space, one leg positioned between his as he remained in his chair, eyes glimmering up at you.

“oh? and if i was your client… would you represent me for free then?”

he chuckled, and you had to hold your breath to keep composure. “oh darling, i’m no charity worker. even a pretty girl like you would have to pay.”

your hand is in his hair, playing with a few strands of the soft silver, tugging only a teasing fraction as you speak, “and if i have no money?”

his hands both made their way to the back of your thighs, cupping the skin just below your ass, his fingers lightly gripping the plush skin. “then i suppose you’d have to find another, suitable form of payment.”

you could feel the heat emanating from your core from only a few minutes of flirting, but there was no denying the effect he had on you.

you bring another strand of hair between your fingers, angling his head back slightly as you made a face of rumination, bottom lip pulled gently between your teeth. if you were going to play this game, you were going to play it to make sure he won, no matter the depravity of your words.

“the great attorney vincent renzi…” you bring your face to hover a couple inches above his. “how could i ever get such a great man to support me?..” you let your lips ghost over his.

“flattery would get you nowhere.” you could feel his lips twitch into a smirk as his eyes watched yours intently.

you give him a faux pout, still nose to nose, his grip on your thighs tightening ever so slightly.

“but i would do anything to have the most handsome counselor of france represent my case.”

“anything?”

“anything.” your voice was barely above a whisper, the heat radiating off your entire body was near oppressive. “anything maître vincent renzi wanted.”

“such as?”

the octave of his voice had your brain short circuiting, and it took everything in your willpower not to clench your thighs right in front of him, under his attentive touch.

“if you wanted to touch me, i’d let you touch me anywhere. if you wanted me on my knees, i’d stay there for hours.” you swallow, breath stuttering softly as excitement tingled down your spine. “however and whenever, you’d want to use me, i would let you.”

vincent seemed pleased with that answer. he was leaned back slightly still, his posture slouched a bit as he relaxed more into the chair, his hips closer to your legs as he brought a hand to his mouth as if to strike of pose of mock contemplation.

“is that so… i suppose i may accept such an offer, however…”

you hold your breath. “however?”

he sits up again, his face directly in front of your chest, both hands on the back of your thighs again. he stares up at you, piercing blue eyes silently challenging you. “you don’t seem very convincing.”

you bite back a whine at his damn composure. feeling your neediness build up, you finally say fuck it and take hold of one of his hands from your thigh and bring the palm to your chest. your knee kneels on the chair between his thighs as you lean over him.

the wrist in your palm flexes slightly as he teasingly gropes at your chest, just enough to make you pull your lip between your teeth.

“is this supposed to convince me?”

the cool vibrato of his voice had your thighs clenching together. “please vincent.” you whisper, voice breathy and bordering on a pathetic whine.

he only chuckles, hand gripping onto your breast more firmly as his other hand pulls your waist closer so that you’re straddling his thigh. his touch his mindful now as he deliberately pushes the fabric of your bra aside, his fingers quickly finding your nipple and rubbing it over your shirt.

“tell me, would you really become so desperate as to let me take advantage of you like that?”

maybe it was the way he so easily took control of you, or maybe it was the look in his eyes, or the diligence of his touch, but you knew without a doubt you were not above letting him fuck you for compensation if it would be like this.

“yes,” your answer was breathless, nearly moaning. you felt him flex his thigh under your pussy, “fuck- yes. i’d let you use me just like this.”

you noticed how his chest rose and fall with bated breaths, his hand on your hip slowly encouraging you to rock your hips along his jean clad thigh. as you begin to rock your slick core over his jeans, you felt his words warm against the side of your face, his lips tracing the shell of your ear.

“such a pretty girl like you… who thought you could be so dirty—practically selling your body.” your breath shuddered as he began to trail love bites down the side of your neck. “would you do this for just any kind of services? would you let the mechanic fuck you for free maintenance? or the professor for good grades?”

you grind your aching clit against the muscle of his thigh, whimpering as he bit marks into your sensitive skin. “n-no.. no, only you.”

“only me?” he pulled his face away from your neck and brought a hand to your chin, his fingers holding it as he studied your expression.

his eyes flicked from your half lidded eyes to the flush of your cheeks before finally landing on your bite-swollen lips, blushed a pretty pink from your teeth. the pad of his thumb swipes across your bottom lip, pulling it to the side gently.

“suppose if it’s only for me, i’d accept such an offer.” he pulled your chin so your head was angled down slightly. his eyes met yours again, his pupils blown. “so go ahead and show me what this good girl would do for me in return.”

[prettyboykatsuki]

oliver talking his partner through it and calling him d**** god your brain is so huge my stomach hurts thinking about this. he’ll never tell you he loves you to your face and tries to fuck you more like he hates you because he doesn’t want to get too attached but as you’re getting close he’s all in your face and your neck, teasing you, biting your ear and softly begging you to tell him how you feel, how it’ll be better for him if you tell d**** just how close you are and how much you need him. takes you over the crest so sweetly, and continues rolling into you, chasing his own. his kisses are nonstop and so overwhelming, and he knows they are but he just really needs to connect with you like this. never the first to say “i love you” but unfortunately (in his opinion) he expresses it in so many other ways. sorry.

but i crumble completely when you cry | a. oliver

✮ tags ; DADDY KINK, afab + fem!reader, situationship!oliver, hooking up, unresolved romantic tension, p in v, praise, soft sex, it gets emotionally strange, riding, creampies, unprotected sex, under-negotiated kink in a sense though oliver is very careful

✮ wc ; 2.2k (i dont want to talk about it)

✮ a/n ; anon im going to haunt your dreams for putting this absurd image into my head when i dont even go here im crying screaming throwing up ive been thinking about it for hours. hours of my life wasted on this guys dick. upsetting!!!!!

also i do not write this often and do not plan too again any time soon so if ur seeing this and thinking about following me for content like it i would not recommend!!!

✮ synopsis ; you don't trust oliver with your heart or your feelings. nor do you expect anything from him.

but it's hard not to lean into him when he decides to cradle you so gently.

Your relationship with Oliver is both very ambiguous and very clear.

There's a line drawn, and you both steer clear of crossing it in your interactions. Oliver is fun. He's attractive and charming, a massive flirt but just genuine enough to be interesting.

It helps that he's hot. Physically, he's got an unreal build.

He's an athlete, so he's big. Wide chest and strong arms, thick thighs and the height to top it off. He's 6'3, and he's sexy (and his dick is huge) - and you sleep with him because of that. You don't date him explicitly because he's a womanizer. If you'd met when you were a little younger, a little more naive - you might've tried to dog-train him into being your boyfriend.

Because on top of the immaculate dick, he's fun to be around. He's funny, he drinks well, he's not a scumbag in the ways that turn you off.

You're old enough to know better. You have a career. You're too busy, and too jaded about love to try and fix whatever weird shit he has going on. So even if the two of you harbor some sort of emotional or romantic feelings for each other, you're smart enough to not get invested in those feelings and smart enough to have no expectations.

Oliver is your fun. He's your sneaky link, your weekend off. You come to him to blow off steam. You have rough, fast sex and it's good. Sometimes you chill afterwards, and you'll indulge each other in some physical affection but other times you take your shower and leave. It's a good time, and you know well enough not to ever ask him for any of your emotional needs. You have your therapist and girl friends for that.

Normally, when you're having a rough week - it's prime time to go to him. He'll fuck you a little harder than usual, and sometimes he's nice enough to kiss it better. But it's still, very distinctly, never crossing that boundary.

But some weeks, like this week - shit is bad. Not just stressful bad, but everything in the fucking world that could go wrong, is going wrong bad. It's not the kind of thing you can get over by compartmentalizing and even when you try to do your usual thing it doesn't really work.

You're trying right now - to get over the fucked up week you had. And you're turned on, but somehow - it's still not enough to get you completely out of it.

Oliver pauses mid stroke, in missionary - hetero-chromatic eyes staring you down as your thoughts are somewhere else completely. You don't notice the first time he stops, or the first time he calls you.

And he only gets your attention by cupping your face and making you look at him. You startle as you cast your glance his way.

"What's with you?" He asks, though he's not pissed or anything "Not feelin' it? Want me to stop?"

"No, you don't have too."

"Not what I asked," He chastises, letting go of your face "Not having your full attention is making me go soft,"

This makes you laugh, and Oliver cracks a smile seeing the tension melt off your face if only slightly.

"I'm cool with stopping." He assures. You let your hand reach up to his shoulder.

"It's not like I want to stop, necessarily? Like I wanna do something to get my mind off it and sex feels like the best option, but you know how it goes sometimes," You say, trying your best to avoid the emotional baggage of your words "We can stop though. I'll pay you for your wasted time," You tack the joke on at the end to ease the tension.

You're expecting him to pull out and stop, or maybe challenge himself into fucking you so good that you forget. Something more quintessentially Oliver than what he does do.

He gives you a blank look first, than a laugh that is a touch too sincere for you to be comfortable "That bad of a week?"

You're suddenly in dangerous territory. Somehow, this strange intimacy makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You swallow thickly, the emotions coming over you so quick you end up looking away.

"Yeah. You know. It's fine, but you know."

"Mm," He says. He leans into your space. His breath is warm and his stubble tickles your skin as he whispers in your ear. You feel your breath hitch. And the air feels heavy "Wanna try somethin' else?"

"Like what?"

"A surprise," He says first, and find your stomach tightening. A hollowness in your nerves "Gotta trust me."

"You're scaring me." You joke.

"I'm a sex expert, you know?" Oliver says, humming against your skin "If I can't remedy your little problem with my dick, it's bad for my street cred. My yelp reviews will tank."

"You're such a dumbass."

"Do you trust me?"

You don't know how to answer. Yes, for the most part. Not with everything, but with your pleasure at least. Whatever this is, it doesn't feel the same. But you say yes, anyways. Oliver kisses your jaw in reply, then he pulls out.

He flips position easily. He ends up on his back, then he grabs you to rest on top of him. You're not sure what you're expecting. He holds you by your hips as your sex hovers over his cock. His thumb is rubbing circles into your skin as he sinks you down slowly onto him.

You only stare at him, mouth opening as you feel him stretch you open for a second time.

You're more aware of it this way. He's so thick, and so intrusive - and normally, you're feeling that in hard strokes. Fast and rough, like something knocking into your cervix. But like this, he's hitting a deep angle. You can feel every curve, every inch, as you come down slowly.

He keeps you there. For longer than you'd expect. Just keeps you, settles you, holds you gently. You stare at him as he grabs your hand, locking your fingers. Your first instinct is to panic, or crack a joke - but there's an intense look in his eye that shuts you up.

Uncharacteristically gentle, you find yourself frightened. Oliver's hands reach for you again. They hold your waist and slide up the planes of your body. He holds your tits in his palms and squeezes.

He does this a lot, but there's not usually this much touching. This much foreplay. It's grabby, a deeper pressure. He doesn't...feel you, in the way he is now. You stare at him, and he looks back at you so fondly you feel a strange urge to pretend it never happened.

"Play with your clit," He says, though there's no urgency in his voice.

Deep and smooth, the timbre in it has you shaking. You listen, on auto-pilot as you play with yourself clumsily and build a slow pressure. He just watches.

"C'mere, baby. And don't stop touching yourself."

Another pause. It's not the first time he's called you that. He likes to call you all sorts of things when you're fucking, and baby is one of the few. But not like that. Not like this. He gives you a lazy, self satisfied smile and encourages you by placing a hand on where he can reach on your low back.

You lean down, and Oliver tucks you into his chest. He's warm, and strong - and smells so good, like musk and cologne. Your free hand is on his chest, as he grips your hips and fucks up into you.

"That's it," His voice is pleasant to your ears. It feels funny to you "Just gotta listen to me."

He starts fucking you slowly. It's a familiar feeling, a pleasant stretch that dulls into a euphoric fullness. But it's never been this slow before. Each thrust is slow, and punctual, and so deep you feel yourself gasping. It's not enough to push you over the edge, but it's enough to make your mind feel a little numb.

You think he's going to keep at you like this, maybe edge you to take you out of it. But he doesn't. He keeps his pace.

"Had a hard time this week, didn't you, tough girl?" He mumbles, so low it doesn't feel real. You feel your heart start to race. You feel your throat start to close around something, choking "Did a good job and came to me. Gonna let me take care of it?"

You stumble. You aren't sure what to say, you nod and hope he feels it. He laughs a little. You can't be sure if you're fucking Oliver or not.

You know it's him but he's never been like this. Not once. Not ever.

"Gonna let daddy take care of you?" He says, though it's tentative. Your breath hitches. Something strange overwhelms your senses "Tell me, baby."

"Uhm," Your first reaction is a sense of resistance, an immediate pull away. Not that you hate it but you aren't sure how to adjust. You squirm, but you don't tell him no. You feel like you can't in this state "Uh-uh,"

He keeps surprising you, pressing his lips to yours where you hover over him, tender as he ups the pace of his thrusts.

"That's what I like to hear," He almost sounds proud "You'll hurt your head if you think too much. And I'd be a bad daddy, letting that happen, yeah?"

A vulnerable, foreign sensation drives you to speak "You're not bad in that way."

He laughs "Just in other ways, right?"

You giggle "Uh-huh."

"But not in this one," He repeats, very carefully. He fucks into you harder now, pays extra special attention to you. It's all for you, is what he's saying in a language completely foreign yet somehow so known. One only the two of you will ever know fully, confined in the four walls of this room "Daddy is good at taking care of you like this, so you should let him do just that. Tough girls always need their daddies, hm?"

It's what ends up tipping you up over the edge. You cling to him, succumbing to whatever weird space the two of you have fallen into you. Suspended in this odd sense of comfort that Oliver has thrust you in unannounced.

You don't trust Oliver with a lot, and this is more than what you should ever find yourself giving. In the back of your head you think you should pull away.

But he's comforting. It feels good, and strangely feels safe - and even for all the ways he's awful, you trust he'd never do anything bad to you. Even if it's a blip in the timeline, for now it's what you need. A blurry cross into your emotional needs that translate into your physical ones. Too much and so overwhelming, you hug closer to him and take a deep breath.

"Mm," You let yourself lean into him. Just this once, you promise yourself. "I wanna cum."

"Want it a little harder?"

"Mhm,"

"Then Daddy will give it to you a little harder, yeah? Anything for you." He says, and you try not to think to deeply on what that really means. Because even in this state you know it's not nothing, but you should never pry "Daddy can give you anything you want."

"Yeah?"

He chuckles a little as he fucks into you hard. Fucks into you how you need. You're wet enough, and wondering if you were always so into being doted on. Or if it's just the fact that it's Oliver. Another thing you decide to overlook as you zero in on the sensation of being pistoned from underneath. You're soaking. The room noisy with the sticky noise of Olivers cock penetrating you over and over, skin hitting skin as his hips press against your ass. His grip is bruising but not intentionally, his chest huffed in pleasure.

He's just as close as you are, you know all of his cues. You play with your clit faster, sensitive bud throbbing hard as all the blood rushes south. Your mouth has fallen open as the slow, thick desire coiling and culminating into something cosmic. Something big and heavy, but not too fast. Not a crash landing like you're used to.

But a single weight, the force of a star dropping to Earth. You figure Oliver is the gravity in your universe, holding you down so you don't float too far. You want to cling onto him for much longer.

And somehow, you're inclined to think he would let you.

"Oliver," You say his name as it builds, then decide on something else "Daddy,"

"I'm here, baby," He says back, like it's all he has to say for everything to make sense when nothing about this does "I'm right here. Let go."

So you do. You cum hard, and it comes in long never ending waves. Too much. It makes you collapse in Olivers arms, both arms coming around his neck as he continues to fuck you through the aftermath.

"Gonna," He voices, rasping as his thrusts become sloppy "Shit. Cumming, shit."

He cums with you, cums deep inside like usual and you mewl at the feeling of being filled with hot, sticky seed.

When it's over, you're almost afraid to look at him. When the tensions settled, and his chest goes back to it's steady breaths - you wonder whats going to happen next.

"Wanna stay like this for a while?"

You nod.

"Mm. Sleepy."

"Stay like this, then. I'll wake you in a little."

"So you can kick me out?" You joke, trying to pretend nothing is different. He pauses.

"Just to shower," He whispers, hand resting on your lower back "Sleep."

There's too much to think about. Tomorrow will be strange. You let yourself succumb to your own exhaustion.

"Okay."

[billiedeansbitch]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞 (𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑)

(𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐖𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

Summary: The one where in Larissa sex life is no longer boring or Larissa took chance on a young shapeshifter who had a massive crush on her.

(AO3 link in the title)

A/n: after what it feels like a year of depression (lol) part three is finally done. (It's the longest chapter by far so buckle up)

<<PREVIOUS PART

It had been two weeks since she found out that she might be, as ridiculous as it sounded, carrying your child in her womb though she was still in the shadows of disbelief and that the results were something of an error because how? Just how…could this all make sense? Even with the results she paid hefty for wasn’t at all convincing. Were there some lessons she missed in the anatomy class that could somehow explain this phenomenon? 

It felt cruel and sad, being played like this, it was her body yet it felt like it wasn’t her own. She was supposed to feel it, right? She should know like all the women who were able to predict their pregnancy by trusting their instinct—maybe her instinct wasn’t that strong enough to feel the changes going on or if there were any to begin with but her period was late. She missed it and that was enough for her to worry.

But alas, Larissa gave her mind a rest, choosing to not dwell on the matter; her days went as normal, nobody suspected anything, not even you. The sex continued, and it was great. She was living her best life…supposedly.

When morning came and the sunlight swept across the walls through the gaps of the curtains at seven in the morning on a wednesday, Larissa was up and about managing through her routine that she had so religiously been doing ever since she could remember.

The coffee was left brewing in the kitchen for later while she took her time in the bedroom, picking her clothes, the accessories she’d wear for the day, her perfume, what kind of wrist watch she was in the mood for and so on. Again, everything was normal like it should be.

Sated with the outcome of her makeup, she gave herself a once over through the mirror. She then slipped her kitten heels over her stocking clad feet, feeling them in since they were new and fresh out of the box.

Looking past her shoulders, she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander to her already made bed. Only three days ago you were lying there on your stomach, clad in nothing but her shirt that was obviously too big, swallowing your form until the tops of your thighs as you “innocently” read a book from her shelf.

It could have fooled her by the way the space between your brows creased but upon seeing the cover was turned upside down she knew you were only doing it for show or maybe you were bored out of your mind that your last resort to ease yourself was by doing something remotely childish.

Larissa made it a point to tell you that you were “reading” it wrong as she crossed her bedroom to grab a set of underwear from her drawer to which you told her that it was on purpose, that you were testing out how far you could read them upside down. She hummed, a smile unfurling on her lips. The woman was inexplicably drawn to you that even this did nothing to change her mind about you.

She let you be, hearing your soft murmurs in the background as she slid some clothes on. It was funny to think that only half an hour ago you were rearranging her insides and whispering filthy things into her ear making her own cum spill down the bedsheets. God, she was missing you already and there was no way she was able to deny it by the way she felt her chest squeezed.

The kitchen smelled like coffee when she entered the space, its aroma was so rich it nearly made her salivate. She needed it to start with her day knowing well that her body required it to function and stay alert, yet in the midst of pouring herself a cup, Larissa halted feeling a strange turn in her stomach and put the pot down. What little she had poured was wasted away in the sink.

Instead, she grabbed something to snack on: a mix of nuts that she had been liking as of late. She then left the house early and opted for a concoction of fresh blended fruit juice as well as two medium sized blueberry muffins from the roadside cafe on her way to Nevermore, she also ordered a loaf of their special banana bread with the intention to share it with the Nevermore staff and a slice for her, too, just incase she got hungry in the middle of work which she often did these past few days.

–

“Good morning, Principal Weems.” Enid, ever the sweet girl she was, greeted Larissa in the hallway on her way to the teacher’s lounge holding the goodies in one hand as the other held her drink.

The bounce in Enid’s step was enough for the woman to feel sort of amused. She reciprocated the smile and she greeted her, too.

“You look glowing, Principal Weems.” The younger woman chirped, still smiling. Larissa felt blush creeped to her cheeks. It wasn’t odd for Enid to rain people with compliments, it was actually her brand, and Larissa wasn’t a stranger to it as she, herself, had received it plenty of times yet she found herself dumbfounded particularly by this one. Her, glowing? Of course, she kept her appearance as sophisticated as one could muster while running an entire school of outcasts but glowing? No amount of makeup or creams or moisturisers she lathered her skin with could make her glow unless Enid was lying. Or buttering her up for something she wanted to ask as a favour from her later.

Before the woman could react, Enid was saying goodbye and breezed past her to catch up with her friends in the end of the hallway.

She brushed it off and headed to the teacher’s lounge.

This time it was the new professor who complimented her whilst taking a slice of banana bread for herself. Larissa could only stand right there and smile.

One by one they all had their piece, the last one to grab was Professor Vladimir, moaning when he took a bite. Larissa felt pleased by everyone's reactions, it was as if she baked it herself.

The little nudge on her arm pried her mind off of her thoughts, it was Professor Vladimir eyeing her, it was something that let Larissa know that she should leave now or she’d have to put up with his teasing.

“What’s the special occasion?” He had this irritating habit of wiggling his eyebrows up and down while he gave her smile that was just as ridiculous. “Had a good lay, Rissy?” She knew that nickname was coming and yet she had the audacity to be shocked and eyed him dirty.

“Do me a favour and shut your mouth, Vlad.” It was spoken discreetly low that only he could hear it. Looking around, Larissa felt eased seeing everyone was busy conversing amongst themselves.

Alexander Vladimir was her friend, a gay guy that had this exceptionally good facial harmony even with the moustache that made Larissa want to shave it off herself. They had been friends since their own time at Nevermore, and now, here they were, still friends though Larissa doubted it wouldn’t be for long if he kept pestering her with his comments about you. (Oh yes, he knew about you.)

It all started when he caught you one afternoon creeping out in the hallway, Larissa’s lipstick smeared on your skin and hair was a little bit tousled. It wasn’t rocket science to figure that you were both fucking, he could never judge one’s happiness. He had taken so much pride knowing something else not many were privy to. It made him lose his goddamn mind and since then he never stopped harassing her with questions and teasing.

And although Larissa wasn’t ready to spill her secrets out, it oddly felt good to finally talk about you, to have someone listen to her as she gushed over and over how amazing you were as a person but of course it didn’t all happen in one seating during tea time. He coaxed her out of it and in return, he divulged his recent rendezvous with the groundskeeper. To this day, Larissa felt traumatized from all the information her friend should have kept all to himself.

“Tell me, love, have you done anal? Or sixty-nine ‘cause girl, you are fucking glowing. You aren’t keeping her hostage under your desk or tied to your bed posts, are you?”

Larissa nearly did a spit take, though she quickly recovered and schooled her expression. She did a quick sweep around before jabbing her elbow to his side earning her a yelp.

“Girl, you can deny it in ten different ways and I ain’t gonna believe you. Who cares if you do? I don’t. You can keep her all year long over or under any surface of your office and I wouldn’t dare say a thing.”

Okay, that was it. Larissa’s nostrils flared, eyeing down the man. If he could casually talk like that with all these people in the room, no doubt Larissa could casually wring his neck as well but the thought soon vanished when another teacher joined their space leaving Larissa fuming underneath a calm expression.

She put a practiced smile on her, looking sweet and all as if in her mind she wasn’t thinking about murdering her friend.

It was Mrs Bowen, the music teacher, rubbing her very swollen pregnant belly in front of Larissa. A belly that Larissa could swear wasn’t as prominent as it was now when she last saw the woman, she couldn’t even recall if she sent a congratulatory note or anything.

Subconsciously, she placed a hand flat on her stomach, mimicking the other woman.

“Mrs Bowen! It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages. How far along are you again? It looks like you’re ready to pop!” It was Vlad who broke the ice first. Larissa stayed silent, pensively rubbing her thumb on the soft spot of her belly.

“Almost eight months. I’m carrying triplets.” She made a show by pushing her belly outward.

“Damn that’s a horde! How many positions did you do with your husband to conceive not just one but three?”

The high pitch chuckle broke Larissa out of her trance, removing her hand and letting it fall on her side to appear as if she was smoothing her dress. Thankfully everyone was well occupied to notice the gesture.

“Just one. It runs in the family you know. My husband is a quadruplet.”

“Wow…okay, wow. Really wow.”

“Congratulations on the babies again, Mrs Bowen. ” Larissa said finally.

“Thank you, Principal Weems. I kinda want to ask you, well, I was gonna drop an invitation at your office but I can’t climb two flights of stairs like I used to anymore so I’m just gonna say it. It’s my baby shower this upcoming holiday break. I know it’s quite early but my husband and I decided it’s for the best.”

It was plain as day that the impromptu invitation had caught her off guard, she blinked a few times, she didn’t even realize her jaw was clenched and her brows were raised, as her breath was suspended.

She looked at Mrs Bowen’s face, then down her engorged belly, then back up to her face again. She had no qualms with the pregnant woman, hell, Mrs Bowen was the sweetest, most down to earth living person she encountered in this godforsaken town, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be in a…celebratory mood?

“That’s—” it felt like her voice was caught up in her throat “—that’s wonderful. I, um, I have to check if my schedule is clear but I’ll keep it in mind.” she said, putting a practiced smile on her face. She wanted to leave.

“Excuse me, I have to go. Have a lovely day for both of you and see you around.”

–

Larissa sat in front of her desk, the drink she had was forgotten on the table letting the condensation from the melted ice drip.

Seeing Mrs Bowen in her state made Larissa think about herself. It made her heart beat faster, the image of herself with a big protruding belly was unnerving enough as it was and it was made worse by the thought of how, just fucking how, was she going to go through all stages of pregnancy. Not that anything was confirmed yet, but she just couldn’t help herself.

And it terrified her. The future terrified her. If only she could just pull out the test kits she had hiding in her drawer and piss on it, wait for some goddamn five minutes, and be done. She would at least get a grip of what was really going on, though it felt like it wasn’t that easy.

Maybe a part of her was already hoping no matter how much she denied it while the rest was just scared of the disappointing truth but wouldn’t it be better? You were young, free spirited, you often gush about how you’d want to travel the world and explore. You had a full life right ahead of you and she was not selfish to ask anything of you but she knew you were not a terrible person, you wouldn’t just leave.

Thinking about it made me nauseous. It wasn’t supposed to get this serious. None of these were supposed to happen.

She was fucking turning forty-four in a few months, and this kind of dilema was absolutely not she was expecting at this age.

That day she decided she was too overwhelmed and unwell to properly function so she gave into her whims and she went home and spent the rest of the day in her bed wishing you were there to hold her.

–

Eventually it was the end of the week with a long weekend ahead, Professors were gathering their belongings to spend weekends with their families for those who live far away, and students were getting ready for whatever plans they had for the weekend.

She watched from the balcony how the thick crowd dispersed until few of the staff were left roaming the grounds, only then did she summon herself to collect her things, deeming herself ready to go home.

In the middle of applying a fresh coat of lipstick, she couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by the silence, the hollowed feeling that lingered in her chest. She didn't know how the thought got to her but she imagined a gummy smile welcoming her home with a tiny pair of hands opening and closing, too eager to grab a fistful of her clothes. The smell of baby powder and cologne as she buries her face on the crook of a little one’s neck and then you…

She thought about you kissing her and helping take her coat off. She thought about spending her Saturdays in her backyard, lounging on a massive picnic blanket under the tree, indulging the day with books and some wine, and then you’d be both surprised because your daughter just took her first step, and her heart was clenching, a proud smile displayed on her face while you were absolutely freaking out because what if she fell flat on her face?

(Okay. Fuck. Goddamnit)

The sound of the drawer slamming closed harder than it was necessary reverberated in the room. She was hot on her heels, ushering herself into the bathroom, leaving the door open, she held two pregnancy tests with a firm grip.

With bated breath, she sat on the toilet and used the first stick.

—

When you arrived on a Saturday morning, Larissa had just come out of her bedroom. You were still in the hallway, your overnight bag hanging on your shoulder, two paper bags occupying your arms. On your way, you took it upon yourself to buy groceries not wanting Larissa to think you were freeloading off of her or abusing her kindness, plus you thought about cooking for her instead of feeding her take outs.

Your eyes lingered to the way the flimsy straps of her baby blue nightgown that hung loosely on her shoulders, it made you feel things, and when they went south noticing how it was cut mid her thighs, giving you enough skin to ogle at. You couldn’t possibly contain your hunger for her. Her skin looked supple, rosy around the cheeks and freckles around her shoulders going down the length of her arms.

Her nipples peaked from the chill of the morning, and the sunlight casted on her skin gave an ethereal kind of glow. You couldn’t ponder how this was real. How she was real.

Before taking the groceries to the kitchen, you dropped the bag in the hallway, mentally noting to pick it up for later, “I let myself in again thinking you were still probably asleep.”

You walked up to her and she met you halfway. There were bags under her eyes denoting the lack of sleep, and her eyes, they look tired and conflicted.

The groceries almost fell when she surged forward, hands cupping your face, pressing a kiss on your lips and knocking out your breath. You wanted to grab the back of her neck, pull her deeper and kiss her harder. You wanted to reciprocate her obvious longing but you couldn’t unless you wanted spilt milk and raw eggs all over the floor.

“Mhmm, later. I need to put this away first.” So with that, you reluctantly pulled away, sauntering over to the kitchen to put the bags on the counter where she followed you, not letting herself be away from you and it made your heart clench.

Larissa kept the distance between you within an arm’s length, leaning her back on the counter behind you, watching you take the fresh produce out of the bag one by one but there was a lot packed in one bag and you didn’t think you had the patience to put them away, not if she was looking at you like that, not when something felt wrong.

The eggs were the last thing you pulled out and set on the counter. When you faced her, she had her lower lip worried in between her teeth, “Baby, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

She shook her head, stepping closer. The instant you opened your arms, your bodies collided. She rested her forehead against yours, “Sorry.”

You brush a strand away from her face, letting your fingertips linger around her jawbone, “It’s okay. I missed this, too.” you told her, getting a sense that it was the reason that made Larissa emotional, and to think that missing you had this effect on her made you want to wrap her in your arms more; to never let her go.

You offered her a wink, hoping to enlighten her and kissed the tip of her nose, it usually earned you a chuckle or a kiss in response but right now, Larissa only sighed.

Your mind circled back to how you thought her eyes looked very tired, and they still were, missing its shine. You could barely see yourself reflecting in them.

“How about you steal a couple more hours of sleep, hm? As soon as I’m finished putting the groceries away, I will lie with you and then after you have your rest we’ll have breakfast. I’ll make waffles, you like that, right?”

It took her a moment to reply, her eyes watching you closely like she had many times before after sharing an intimate moment that left you both emotionally vulnerable.

“I missed you.” she said, cupping your face. The pad of her left thumb grazed the corner of your lips, stroking the skin tenderly.

“And I missed you a whole lot more. So, so much. I have been thinking about you day and night. Most of my dreams were about you which is embarrassing because even in my sleep, I was obsessed about you.” That, thankfully, made her smile even just a tiny bit, barely perceptible if you hadn’t been this close to see it.

“Do you mean it?” She asked and you gave her a reassuring nod.

“Yes, I do. Now, let’s get you in bed.”

In between the conversation, you felt yourself closer to slipping from what you really wanted to tell her, though you held back and managed. It still felt early to say it and you were afraid of how she’d react. There were too many what ifs and none of them were doing you good. So, as long as you didn’t say it, you still had a chance of still being with her and protecting both of your peace.

Looking away, to shake the thoughts off, something caught your attention interestingly enough. On the bench at the end of the bed, you recognized the neatly folded clothes. They were your pyjamas. She must have been expecting you last night, you knew she had this habit of preparing both of your clothes whenever you were staying so it wasn’t completely random to find them there.

In that moment, from where you stood, you were struck with just how much Larissa deeply cared for you. It was palpable from the things she did for you, for what she had sacrificed by far. Because you knew a woman in her twenties being seen in public with another woman twice her age would have had people to turn their heads, and it was sad because it would only take a second for them to judge you, but mostly her. In their eyes she was a predator that preyed on the young. It would do less damage on you even if you were the one who pushed yourself to be with her.

She had a reputable image that she was putting at risk for you so if that didn’t speak volume of how much she was willing to do to be with you, you would be a goddamn idiot to still think that this woman didn’t feel the same way as you do if not more.

“Darling?” Her voice reeled you back at the present moment, she was already in bed, laying on her side with her head propped on her hand.

If your heart could grow every time you think you love her, it would have been massive, uncontainable even. Yes, yes you love her.

“Just give me a second,” You shed your pants, followed by the shirt you have on, then you reached behind you to unclasped your bra which soon fell on top of the messy pile. At this point, your body was on autopilot, acting according to what felt necessary.

You needed her to know that her effort hadn’t gone to waste. You took the simple white tee from the bench, sniffing it briefly. It smelled like her. In fact, the whole room smelled just like her, and you basked in its scent, in its comfort that it gave you knowing that as long as you were in this room you were hers and she was yours, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

You joined her after, sliding into the warm soft sheets and into her awaiting arms. You throbbed to be this close to her all week long, nothing could make up for it, not the facetime calls or the voice messages, or pictures. They all did manage to fill in at least an inch of your longing but nothing could quite beat having her next to you and breathing onto her skin, feeling her pulse beneath your touch and her lips against yours.

She was the pleasure you couldn’t deny yourself from. Every single bit of you was latching like vines around her unwilling to release itself. You craved for the sweet taste of the mornings where her smile ended up on your lips, before you were lapping up the coats of her essence around your fingers and swallowing it.

The silence stretched for a while, the words you wanted to relieve your chest from stayed caged; guarded within your ribs. You wanted her so much you wanted to do this right and you would…just not right now.

Everything was in motion when you blinked, your breath coming in deep, expanding your lungs with the sickening burn. Her scent filled your brain with a high level of dopamine making you feel fuzzy all over.

“What happened to putting away the groceries first?” She asked, a mild tone of amusement apparent in her voice, shifting herself so you could lay your head on her arm.

You snuggled forward, hiding your face on the crook of her neck, “Change of plans.” You breathed out. You then sling an arm around her waist, bridging whatever gap was left until you were all flushed against her with your legs slotted in between her thighs. “Would you rather I do them now?”

“No. I want you exactly where you are right now.” And to prove her words, Larissa wrapped her other arm around you, trapping you into her hold then she hummed, threading her fingers along your hair.

You smirked against her skin, feeling the light satisfaction her answer gave. “That’s what I thought.” And for sure she must have felt it or something because she playfully pinched your arm.

Repeating the process of combing through your hair, you grew silent, your breaths were evened and relaxed, even the tension she noticed the moment she held you disappeared. For a second there she thought you had fallen asleep, which made it kind of funny because you were the one who insisted she was the one who needed some sleep, but she wasn’t going to tease you now. Perhaps, you were just as tired as her, she couldn’t ponder how you could get up at the ungodly hours of the morning and drive two hours to get here.

That was until her skin was met with the warm wet feeling of your mouth. The sensations she adored had rendered her eyes closed. “Darling,” Her hips bucked in the slightest way. It felt like encouragement on your part, as well as the way her back arched causing her breasts to thrust forward. And you couldn’t keep it in yourself anymore, you detached your mouth from her clavicle, continuing your exploration to her mouth and kissed her while you palmed her breast over the silk.

She paused in the middle of the kiss, brows knitting together. You felt her hand cupped the back of yours stilling your movement, “Be gentle,”

“But I’m being gentle?”

“Extra gentle, honey.” You nodded, leaning forward to kiss her again, and your hand resumed working on her breast, “This okay?”

It took her a minute to answer a simple “yes...” it was breathy, almost sounding unsure, but she pushed herself, nibbling on your lip before you had the chance to overthink her tone and you kissed her back with feral need.

The pleasure was slowly building instead of pain, and it went on, until eventually you were yearning to have it in your mouth. With a simple yank on the neckline of her nightgown, her breasts were freed and exposed.

The sight of her nipples hard and rosy sent blush all over your face, it was like seeing them the first time again. But what really tipped you over the edge was the way they looked fuller, more supple and round with new veins visibly showing.

Her fingers in your hair grew slack before they found purchase on your shoulder when your lips suddenly took one nipple in, and it was chased by a muffled cry.

Pushing your shoulder back, she looked down, surprised by just how sensitive and sore she was and it hadn’t been a minute since having them in your mouth.

Wide eyed, you asked, “Sorry, did I hurt you again?”

“No, they’re just quite sensitive.” she was rubbing the nipple with her thumb to alleviate the tingling.

“I’m really sorry.” The fear of hurting her again extinguished your desire, even if it was unintentional you couldn’t erase the pained expression she had.

“I told you it’s okay.”

“Maybe we should stop? Or are you hungry? I can–” Larissa grabbed your wrist before you could get out of bed.

“No, no, not hungry, though a few hours of sleep sounds appealing now.”

You returned back to your previous position, “I’m sorry to cut your fun, sweetheart.” She dropped a kiss on your forehead, her thumb rubbing your brow to soothe the frown on your face, “I’ll make it up to you later, is that alright?”

“We don’t have to do anything later if that’s what you’re hinting at. I’m content to just lay here with you and spend the rest of the day rotting in this bed.”

“Oh, is that right?” Larissa chuckled at your choice of words, pressing a kiss onto your hairline.

“Ahuh, I’m okay. Now, will you turn your back on me please, and let me spoon you?” your voice was muffled by the soft skin of her chest when you murmured.

“Did I hear you right? My baby wants to spoon me?”

My baby. Your chest tightened at that. “Please?”

You both exchanged a look with smiles invading both your lips. Without another word Larissa turned her back on you and you gladly offered your arm for her to rest her head, while the other hugged her waist from behind.

Quickly, you were both engulfed by the blissful comfort of silence, hushing the pestering thoughts that loomed. It settled your heart at the right pace. You ever wondered if it ever felt the same way for her.

And as if she could read your mind, she held your hand and brought it to her chest letting you feel her heart thudding softly on your palm. You took that as the answer and smiled.

“Good night, my love.” You nuzzled your nose on the side of her neck like a cat, smelling traces of her body wash and perfume, some of her shampoo as well. Your brain was so fuzzy it didn’t question the last two words.

Meanwhile, Larissa’s heart leapt to her throat.

–

The last time Larissa had locked herself in her office’s private restroom, pacing back and forth with her head pulsing, was outreach day. She was barefooted, she had an unlit cigarette in between her fingers thumbing the filter, too tempted to lit the stick.

And yesterday, she found herself in the same situation. She paced along the black and white tiles with her arms hugging her middle. She had an impending headache so she stopped and pressed her back against the wall. She closed her eyes for a minute, feeling the coolness seeping to her back. She would probably regret this right after but she was far too emotionally stressed to care. She then dramatically slid down until she was sitting, the length of her legs stretched out, one ankle over the other.

The beating of her heart was too damn fast, her tears welling up the corners of her eyes until her vision was a blur and it all came leaking down her face.

On the counter, near the sink, two white test kits laid parallel to one another showing identical results.

Larissa laughed when she picked it up again, staring at the two visible pink lines.

[igotanidea]

Mysterious box: Jason Todd x reader

Warning: a little innuendo, but generally it's supposed to be funny, cause it's hot outside and I'm suffocating.

***

She was sitting in her work, praying for the hours to pass quicker.

Honestly the day was closer to hell than anything else.

Chair was uncomfortable pressing into her back.

Hair was sticky due to the excessive heat and lack of air conditioning.

Y/N could almost feel the beads of sweat running down her back, sinking into the crack.

Disgusting!

And yet, the boss didn't seem to care, sitting in his state-of-art office equipped with all the technology to keep him untouched by the weather and separated from the hoi polloi that his employees were.

Prick!

As if she (and the whole office to put it bluntly) didn't know that what the boss was doing behind those tightly closed doors had little if anything to do with working.

Rather making personal calls and chatting on facebook while his peons worked their asses off.

Y/n's annoyance started increasing in direct proportion to the heat outside (and inside). Finally, losing the last remnants of self-control and dignity and missing the fact that she needed this job, the girl raised from her chair, ready to march into her supervisor bubble and shove some things up his face even if that meant getting sacked or-

"Miss Y/N Y/L/N?"

She spun around at the sound of her name, reacting instinctively.

"Yeah, that's me."

"I got a package for you." the man that suddenly became much more real to Y/N's haze brain and slowly turned into a deliveryman put an acknowledgement of receipt under her nose. "Can you sign this?"

"But - I didn't order anything-'' she frowned, over analyzing whether this was some sort of scam.

"It's already paid for."

"By who?" the frown grew more stern at those words.

"I don't know, maybe you have a secret admirer?"

"I'm taken-"

"Look. Miss. honestly. I don;t care." the guy finally started to get irritated. "This has your name on it. And the price is settled. So could you please try to not make my job harder and sign it? Please?"

"Oh." She blushed a little, realising that she was behaving like a proverbial Karen. "Yeah, sure, of course, I'm sorry." With quick motion her signature ended on the paper.

"Thank you." He seemed to be relieved at her change of attitude and quickly rushed out the door, muttering something about whiny girls.

And now she was stuck in the middle of the office open space, with the biggest package ever, wrapped in red paper with an elegant leather ribbon adorning it.

Having all her colleagues' eyes on it.

Right. Cause nothing livens up a shitty day like putting the attention onto someone else.

"What is it?"

"Who is it from?"

"Can we see what's inside?"

"Come on Y/N, unwrap it here!"

The voices started attacking her from every direction, but she knew better than to react or - god forbid - subdue.

Using the moment of commotion as her coworkers began to close in on her like zombies starved for entertainment, she quickly grabbed the box. Diving between the stretched arms and the thicket of legs, Y/N miraculously managed to reach the bathroom, locking the door behind her, finally getting a moment of peace to inspect the gift.

***

Jason sent her the set of 10 Dior body care products...

Which must have cost a fortune. And as she started to unwrap all those little vials and boxes, her eyes bore into a note.

Princess,

Last night, when we were "busy" I noticed your skin being a little dry. Hopefully, this little set of things will remedy that problem. Use it tonight. I'll be sure to drop by your place around midnight.

Shit.

She felt her hands shake a little at the innuendo, but that was not everything.

And don't you worry about the price, sunshine. No money in the world can compare with the way you feel wrapped around me and the way you're skin brush against mine. Want you all soft and wet tonight... I got so many ideas of how to make sure those products won't go to waste...

Oh...

She was so right to get inside that bathroom.

Because the stain on her panties had absolutely nothing to do with the weather and temperature. 

[jerreeeeeee]

Balance fic recs

some of my favorite balance fics. various ages, popularities, and lengths. i’ve been wanting to do a rec list for a while!

caramel by nevereverever

The first time Taako is left alone, it isn't pretty. But their lives are stuck in a loop and people come back and die again and again and he wonders if there will ever be a time when he doesn't have to fear being left alone.

2.7k, Taako & Lup Lup dies one cycle and then, years later, she dies again. But she always comes back. Hurt/comfort of the best kind.

Warmth by noxic

"It was a well-known fact among the residents of the Starblaster that Lup, Barry, and Taako slept in the same bed more often than not. It was one of those things that they just did without really talking about it."

2.1k, Barry & Lup & Taako The BLT fic of all time. Quality platonic adult sleepovers.

Taako the Matchmaker by @fantasysamsclub

In which Taako tries to set up his sister. Events take place during Stolen Century.

11.1k, Blupjeans & Taako Taako tries to set up blupjeans. Miscommunication ensues. Very sweet and funny.

red fishing line by @anistarrose

A routine performance of Sizzle it Up goes nightmarishly wrong, and at Lup’s bedside, Taako feels helpless. And when a red-robed guest appears before him, Taako doesn’t know how or what to feel at all.

3k, Barry & Lup & Taako Also the BLT fic of all time. Excellent subtle Taako characterization, and my favorite depiction of the familiarity-but-not of being voidfished. Warning for major character death.

Sunny-Side Up by @barry-j-blupjeans

And the world? The world loved Taako. For once in his gods-damned life, people loved him. They didn’t care about all the flaws, they didn’t care where he came from or who he was before. They loved his food and they loved him. No one would ever quite be at Taako’s level and that was something he thrived on. There would never be anyone who could measure up. Taako deserved this happiness. He worked for it. He wasted his fucking life away for it.

5.7k, Taako A wonderful character study, revolving around the role food plays in Taako's life. Fairly minor but impactful characters like Sazed and Taako's aunt are utilized in a very meaningful way. So well-written and warm. Warning for brief suicidal ideation.

On the Deck of the Starblaster by @papergardener

“What the… what are you all doing? We have work to do!” It’s a justified reaction, Lucretia thinks, to finding your entire crew literally lazing about on deck not an hour into this new cycle. “This one's on me,” Taako says. “It’s a new trend I like to call: taking a fucking break.” Cycle Nintey-Five. Everyone’s maybe not doing so good and could use a little warmth.

6.5k, Lucretia & Taako Near the end of the century, Lucretia is feeling rough. Taako pulls her out of her funk and initiates a much needed rest. Fantastic characterization, of Lucretia as a whole, and the loyal, warm side of Taako. Warning for mentions of a suicide attempt and suicidal ideation.

leaving, as an injustice by @anistarrose

When Mavis is eight, she starts finding her Dad asleep on the couch in the morning. Sometimes, he’s even all the way out on their tiny patio, with his head slumped onto a pillow atop the chess table, and bags beneath his eyes. In one of their following games, he tells her about tactical retreats.

4.7k, Mavis & Merle A study of Mavis and her relationship to Merle. Incredibly insightful into criminally underrated characters. Excellent Merle characterization.

Permission by vaguenotion

She’d been doing this on and off for the last hour, as if daring the men to catch up to them. Daring them to fight her. Every time seemed like a final stand. Here is where I will meet them, her shoulders said, hiked up around her ears. Here is where I’ll make them pay for what they’ve done. But then Taako would grab her hand, and she would turn and see the bruising on his throat, the blood drying on his brow, the tear in his shirt. And she would grip his hand in hers and together they would keep running.

12.6k, Taako & Lup My favorite depiction of the twins as children, both in character and realistic. Beautifully atmospheric, with so many small details that make the setting feel so real. Warning for assault and harm to children.

Come Hell or High Water by @nillial

“Taako,” Hurley asks, “where’s your magic umbrella?” Taako looks behind him. He had tossed the Umbrastaff in the path of a neighboring vehicle, which was beginning to catch up to them. He sees them now, far in the distance, and he sees his Umbrastaff, too, lying dangerously close to its wheels. As if on cue, he watches the tires crush it to pieces. “Whoops,” he says. - Lup is trapped. And then she isn��t. --- In which Taako breaks his umbrella during the Petals to the Metal race, unknowingly freeing Lup, who is almost immediately captured by Kravitz. After becoming a member of the Raven Queen's retinue with Kravitz as her trainer, she has two missions: 1) find her family, and 2) ruin Kravitz's afterlife. A story about enemies becoming friends and lost families finding their way back to one another.

197k (currently), Lup & Kravitz Incredible characterization. I love the way Lup is written. Hilarious shenanigans, sweet friendship-building, and terribly sad sometimes, because it dives deep into the reality of Lup existing in a world that's forgotten her.

Very cold water on a very hot day by @keplercryptids

Sometimes a family is a nerd who can't swim and the crunchy-haired watersport inventor who teaches him how. Surfer lingo required.

3.1k, Barry & Taako Deep dive into the beach year. Excellently in character, well-written dialogue, and a beautiful depiction of their growing friendship.

Children of Atlas by @papergardener

They’ve survived the apocalypse and now as far as they know, they’re the only ones left. Perhaps it was inevitable that they’d consider… repopulation. Lucretia writes up a weekly schedule to try and address that. Absolutely no one is happy with this.

76k (currently), IPRE crew The premise for this one is incredibly offputting, but I'm so glad I gave it a chance. The characterization and quality of writing is absolutely wonderful. I also love the attention to detail of the realistic difficulty of just surviving. Fantastically atmospheric, this fic dives deep into the uncertainty and fear of the first cycle, when the crew are all strangers, and the love that turns them into a family. Warning for extensive discussion of sexual assault.

Emissary Davenport by DragonWrites

A series of stories where Captain Davenport is secretly an emissary of Garl Glittergold, Gnomish god of pranks. And when you're a serious-minded captain on a mission to save all of reality, having a cheerful trickster god as your unexpected patron can get a little strange...

300k, Davenport A series of four works set in an AU where Davenport is an emissary to the leader of the gnomish pantheon. My absolute favorite depiction of Davenport, ever. The first three works are explorations of Davenport as a character and the relationships between people and gods in a DnD world. The last, Lost Gods, is the best fanfiction I've ever read. I can't express how good it is. The attention to detail among myriad plot threads, the building of themes, the characterization across just about every single character in Balance, all come together to create 223k words of a genuine masterpiece.

[staarri]

𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨 — 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡.

c.  scaramouche

character(s) are friends with reader, gn!reader, angsty-ish, scaramouche is still in the fatui, this is a work of fiction

      fluff     ,    love letter     .      word count : roughly 0.9k

t. @aventurne @tragedy-of-commons @yvnaology @nyoomiin

Scaramouche is not an easy man to love. He’s busy, constantly busy, awake even during the most ungodly hours of the night and constantly rubbing at his eyes from his exhaustion. It’s no surprise the Fatui are overworking him again. What’s funny is that he’s sitting at his desk, a pile of papers on the right side–all reports from his underlings–were unnoticed; all of it, even the chirping of the birds as the sun rose and showed the start of a new day, Scaramouche was stuck on a piece of paper in front of him with the words that reads, To my dearest.

There's no way he can capture your beauty on a cheap piece of parchment . He should’ve bought something expensive instead, like a new set of clothes he thinks you’ll like. But lately you’ve just seemed so distant. He needs to reach you somehow. You’ve been driven away by the lies his mouth spills and now, he’s suffering with the consequences, and not once will he ever say it to you, but he needs you to stick with him while he tries to better himself.

So here he is: a fountain pen in hand, wasting his time with something so.. childish. Who writes letters anyway, isn't it something you did as a child towards someone you liked? 

Call him a child then. Call him old-fashioned, traditional, and in love. Call him whatever you like, because in the end he’s yours, and he’s always been. 

He’s let his thoughts linger for too long and suddenly it's 7 am. His eyebags have never been worse and his mind is tired, not from his job, but from this stupid letter he’s made no progress on. To my dearest should be good enough, right? I mean, you were easy to please. He was sure that it would be more than enough for you. 

How tiring. He says, mindlessly scribbling on the paper, jet-black ink scattered all throughout and splattering around the words. Was he angry? Not at all. Frustrated, yes, but for a good reason–to think he did this just because you two were friends was infuriating. Shouldn’t you two be something more?

You were pretty, far too pretty for him to describe. Scaramouche thought his vocabulary was wide enough, but this letter alone has him searching for the words he once knew. Your eyes, leaving him feeling small in a never ending forest and your smile–god, your smile was intoxicating. It would give light to the things he’s been hiding from you this entire time. Your laugh–your voice, sweet and soft, loud and oh-so clear. How you’d bring it down to a whisper when you feel embarrassed about admitting something, how your nose scrunches up when you laugh or when your smile lines just seem so fitting for someone like you.

What was so special about you? 

You were like the sunset on the beaches, glowing. Absolutely stunning, ethereal, lighting everything in a bright orange, his eyes becoming a mix of brown and a dark blue. He’s different around you, he's a completely different person. From the color of his eyes to the racing of his heart, to the feeling that he wasn’t getting enough air whenever you hold his hand–but you’d do it in a friendly way. You don't squeeze his hand too tight, you let go when necessary and don’t leave any kind of touch lingering for far too long.

Scaramouche is not an easy man to love. He’s bad with words and he can’t tell you the things you want to hear;he can’t provide you with the touch you crave, he can’t make up his mind. One moment he’s thinking about just giving you a whole bag of mora for you to use for your next trip, the other he’s thinking about finishing this damn letter that has plagued his mind ever since you first whispered the fact you appreciate him.

There’s no way he can treat you right. There’s absolutely no way he will be perfect, that he’ll be the partner that’ll leave such a mark on you. But god, ask for the world and he will give it to you. Name one thing and when you wake up it's right at your nightstand. Choose the ring and its design, he’ll get a matching one that you yourself decided on as well. Just say the word because he is a child in love.

So here he is, an envelope in hand. Going to the nearest flower shop to buy something that will still wilt under the sun after a few days. He will not love, and can’t love the same way as you, but he will learn how to. 

Call him stupid;call him an idiot for falling for someone he knows is way too out of his league. But that’s all he is, and it's far too late to change that. He might lose you at some point, and that's really what scares him the most. 

Suddenly he’s standing at your doorstep, ringing the doorbell and you’d be confused who in the world decided to bring you a sunflower and a piece of envelope in the middle of the day–you don't recall ordering anything. 

He didn’t even get to sign it.  Maybe next time he can get it right… for his dearest.

characters belong to their respective companies. everything is written by staarri - do not steal, reupload, translate, modify or feed my work to ai.

[yenqa]

ADVANTAGES

in which…

on jay’s live, fans point out a stuffed animal on his bed, one that seems to be the other piece to your notorious missing pair. as imaginary pieces start to connect for fans, the viewers beg for some kind of interaction. and though you and jay have never met before, why not use this situation to your advantage?

warnings : crying, panic attacks, depression is depicted but isnt really said, lots of bad self talk, food/eating, having no appetite, just lots of bad mental health talk and depictions, hurt/comfort, god this chapter is PACKED

wc: 1829

i’m sorry that i couldnt be your teenage dream.

not proofread!

☆

It had been a week and a half since you had seen anyone.

Well other than the cashiers at the local grocery store but that made you look even more pathetic. 

You haven’t been well, at all.

It was a horrible sight, honestly you couldn’t even look at yourself in the mirror without cringy. You had no productivity and had planned to do nothing for as long as possible. 

You were surprised your body hasn't exploded yet, since all you had ate was instant ramen or the three meals you could cook total. 

Today was one of the worse-r days. Three hours into the new day but your mind couldn’t seem to sleep one bit.

You had zero appetite, your room was a mess, it was worse that you couldn’t even sleep away the days even though you were so tired. Your eyes were glued shut at night but your body couldn’t stop fighting the feeling of sleep. 

So here you were, eye bags almost able to give the color purple a run for its money, and so puffy it felt like a balloon was stuck in there. But your eyes hadn’t shed any tears, instead you felt like nothing. Like you were just floating around with no purpose or any feeling at all.

The empty feeling in your head made you unable to do anything but scroll on your phone, letting hours after hours pass by rewatching your favorite show at least a billion times. It seemed like the world had gone gray, like the world was ending and you were the only one feeling it.

A part of you screamed at yourself to get a grip, to stop being so dramatic and realize there are still good things in life. 

You tried to get better, you really did. You had researched on how to get over this drought but you never could. So every night you would lay in your bed, trying to figure out what was wrong with you.

Mornings have always been your least favorite part of the day. But it seemed to get worse with every second that passed. 

Realizing you still had a whole day ahead of you seemed utterly impossible to finish, but still you would reach your hand out to the finish line, only to miss every time.

You had six hours until it was the appropriate time to wake up. You couldn’t call anyone for help, you couldn’t text anyone in the middle of the night. It was your burden, so you had to keep it to yourself and hope and pray it washes away over time.

Your phone has been your only sense of livelihood during your dull days. If you had been wasting hours after hours at least you had been doing something. 

Before you could think of the consequences, you had thought of searching yourself on the internet, just for fun. You clicked on the first source, hoping that someone would see your side of the story.

No it was not fun–you wish you could warn yourself because the title of the article read; “All you need to know about Y/niora and why she’s trending”

We’ve all seen the names “Y/n” or “Y/niora” trending on X, who is she? Some might wonder. In this article I’ll be going over everything she’s done wrong, and why fans hate her for it.

Y/n is a popular streamer on twitch, known for her funny commentary and her boyfriend Jay, but recently she’s shown a darker side to her.

Her boyfriend, Jay, is also a twitch streamer, a much more popular one at that. He’s known for his good looks and his random reactions that have us crying with laughter, but why would he date a nobody like her? 

If you’ve seen Y/niora’s X account, you can see that she posts provocative photos of herself, things that only lead to temptations of male fans. Fans speculate this is the reason they met, saying that she seduced him and used him for money, fame, and views.

If you know anything about streaming, you know BlueJay and his friends. Who stole the internet's hearts with their looks and cute personalities. But things start picking up between Jay and Y/n when she posts their matching stuffed animals, officially presenting their relationship to the world.

This seems to be a bad move on Y/n’s part, as her facade starts slipping through and we get to see her for the calloused person she is. 

She continuously shows her disinterest in anything he’s saying. Making him repeat everything he’s said to her. This strikes up the question, does she really care about him or her fans?

Arguments of this exact topic have been trending among fans, some saying

You closed your phone before you could read anything else. Flipping your body over you could feel tears start to form in your eyes, your vision goes blurry and your breath starts hiccuping. 

Wiping your wet cheeks, you start to panic when you feel like your throat is closing up, placing your hand on your chest to try to calm yourself down. 

That clearly doesn’t work. As you swear you can feel the walls closing in beside you. In a last effort to stop your ugly sobs, you open your phone once more, your breath quickens when you open the phone app, calling the person that you need the most right now.

The ringing on your phone shakes you more, “Please answer, please answer, please answer.” You croak out desperately, glancing at your window to realize it’s the middle of the night, and he’s probably getting the nice sleep he deserves. 

Unlike you who only makes things worse, and can’t even get a wink of sleep at night.

You sob harder after the fifth ring, realizing that he’s not going to answer. And you have to do this on your own–

“Y/n? Are you okay?” His voice brings relief to your ears, that’s until you realize the state you’re in. 

“Jay I’m so–so so sorry for calling you this late.” You rasp out, “I just don’t know what’s wrong with me, I can’t stop shaking and crying, I just–fuck” Bringing your hand up, you grab a fist of your hair, not knowing what to do or say.

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah, I am.” You choke through, words barely coherent.

“I’m coming. Stay there, okay?”

“Okay.” 

His tone is so soft it scares you. How could he be talking to you so sweetly knowing the mess you made? How could he be talking to you so sweetly knowing that you are burdening him at such a late hour?

Your throat tries its best to keep your hammering heart inside your chest, but it closes up, your breath is so uneven you're not even sure you’re breathing at all. 

That is until you let out a soft apology into your phone, but it’s covered by your staggered breathing, and the sound of you stuffing up your snot back into your nose.

The silence coming from him is apparently meant to drive you insane. Because the nausea of it all starts to get to you, your condition is crippling so you can’t even move from your curled up position on your bed.

You can hear your door slam open, eliciting a strong flinch from you. 

Your heart seems to be racing too fast for your liking, almost like it’s fighting to get out of your chest. “Jay?” You mutter, as you can see his dark silhouette standing through the doorway. 

Before you can actually decipher if the man is actually Jay or just some random burglar who found your spare key, you feel his arms wrap around your body, tucking your head into the space between his neck and shoulder. 

You conclude that it’s Jay’s warmth you’re feeling right now.

For a second you feel safe, for a second you feel like he’s just hugging you, not because you are literally having a panic attack. 

That snaps you back into reality. God were you really having a panic attack over an article? That you chose to read? 

Feeling your chest tighten and your eyes water up, you tuck your head impossibly deeper, letting your tears and snot get all over his shirt. 

It’s grossing you out how you can physically feel his shirt dampen with your tears, but you’re too focused on figuring out how to breathe rather than the mess you made on his shirt.

“You can let it out, or you can just cry, I don’t mind.”

You sob even harder than you were before.

He’s so warm. He’s so warm. And you have no idea why it’s the perfect descriptor for him. 

“Jay,” You mutter, being muffled by his shoulder, “I’ve ruined everything.”

His arm rubs your back gently, “You haven’t ruined anything, pretty.” He whispers, talking like if he speaks any louder you’ll crack into hundreds of pieces (you actually might but that’s not the point).

“I have! You can’t even deny it without lying,” You hiccup, “I mean—I’m trying so hard, but I can’t do anything right.” You pull your head back to look up at him.

He stays silent, letting his hand cup your face, wiping away any tears that fall down.

“And I’m so tired. I’m so tired of doing everything I can but still being hated for not doing enough. I mean who wouldn’t? I can’t even cook a proper meal, it just goes to show how hopeless I am.”

“Y/n you can’t possibly think about yourself.”

“I can because it’s the truth.”

He tucks your head back into his shoulder, “Y/n, not being able to cook a proper meal is okay. Some people never learn how to cook an egg.”

Your breathing calms down slightly, you let out a small chuckle, trying to stay forever in his warmth.

“I’m sorry for calling you here so late, I know you’re tired from streaming or something.”

“I could never stay away from you for too long, even if it’s in the middle of the night.”

Letting out a breathy smile, you look back at his face, a small smile spreads through his face looking at you.

Your eyes were tired, for the first time in a week your body was tired. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you, Jay, seriously.”

He gets up from your position, you feel the absence of his warmth even though he just got up, he’s about to walk out the door when you build up the courage to ask, “Can you stay? Just for tonight?”

Looking back, there's a smile on his face as he replies “Always.”

Walking back to you, he lays himself under your blanket, tucking you in before wrapping his arm around you, he pulls you into his chest.

And for the first time in what felt like forever. You fall asleep, in Jay’s arms.

☆

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yenqa > um title is reference to teenage dream by olivia rodrigo! umm hope u enjoyed while i ripped my heart out and put it in my writing… thanks!

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